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Wolf and I

Summary:

Not everyone is pleased with the reign of their new king. Undefeated, undeterred the man is rising to power, with his heart withered a long back there is little to thwart him. But even his enemies are not without ways.
Thousand years apart is a woman who aches for lost love, for mistakes that could not be amended. But when her most ardent wish comes true - it is not in the way she hopes. Instead she ends up on the opposite end of the balance, thrust into a game of power, politics, emotions and more. At stake is the life of the man she loves, to save him or damn him is a choice she has to make.

Chapter 1: Enemy's lair

Summary:

The emperor visits an unwilling bride.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Clip! Clop! Clop! Clop!

Hooves beat against untrodden snow. Flakes swirl in breeze and silver of dawn is breaking. Before moon vanishes a lone wolf howls its farewell.

Railings move. Wheels turn. Heavy gates of the compound of Kangs crack open.

Flags, dump in snow yet proudly flapping in the wind are the first sight for the guardsmen. Like stains of blood against the pristine white of the snow - reds, blacks and golds ripple in the air.

A distinct shout of an order - a last pair of hurried footsteps later, the men in black sink to their knees, hands grasping swords, heads bowed in deference. Snow continues to fall - on their bowed heads, resting like ashes atop their shoulders.

The brilliance of the snow pricks against their eyes, still their gazes never rise to meet the man who dismounts his stallion - majestically black, similar in color to the blowing midnight robes of its master.

There is a choir of greeting - a chant of loyalty and then Shinju sinks into silence.

The emperor has arrived.

Kang Shin the clan leader curls and uncurls his fists. The balance of power has been toppled rather swiftly and rather unexpectedly. There bowed in snow for a man who had once been a boy under his thumb - Shin tries to fight the growing feeling of intimidation. Fear is best hidden - a corner of his mouth twitches - an emotion for a more private setting - similar to disgust -

His eyes flickers up to the object of his thoughts, an unconscious but foolish action on his part for his gaze remains rooted there - on the pitless darkness of his monarch’s gaze. The man belongs in winter of Shinju as much as he is home at the gold dragon throne, his face is carved in ice - lips pressed into a thin line - slightly crooked. There is a patronizing tenor to his gaze as it sweeps over Kang Shin and the man deliberately postpones uttering the next word.

“Rise,” he says in the end, once the cold had found its resting place between the gaps in Kang Shin’s spine. “Dear uncle..” the endearment spoken without true feelings of affection feels like a veiled insult.

There is no common blood between them. Theirs is a bond that was forcefully forged by an edict of a king long gone. Kang Shin grits his teeth, for all that he had lost to that man and then his sons. One by one. He tries not to think of his sister - of her precious child. Of his own sons killed in pointless wars. He tries but fails to forget that all the sacrificed prestige of his clan was to finally sink into his knees in front of a discarded Yoo, a disgraced Wang.

He takes his time rising, swallowing the bitter words rolling on his tongue like bile, until finally meeting the eyes of the emperor is inevitable. Just like Shin - he has not forgotten much, his eyes tell him. They plunge into the man like pricks of ice - wrenching deep into his soul with a searing hatred.

“You bring blessings to Shinju, your majesty!” Shin plays his part and hopes that the emperor will do the same.

A corner of the emperor’s mouth twitches, a shadow crosses his eyes.

“I shall take your word for it,” he says breezily, walking past the clan leader down the path swept free of snow and leading to the stone built insides. Kang Shin stands outside in the snow storm for a moment longer and as if collecting an afterthought, shakes his head and follows after his monarch.

His own safe keep suddenly feels like a lion’s den, where the growling hungry monster awaits. Shin knows his wit is all that lies between certain death for three generations and himself. It is with that thought he shuffles in, wheels of his mind already set in motion. The emperor has already settled at the seat Shin usually occupies and watches him with the calm of a predator waiting to spring upon a prey.

He doesn’t dare utter the commonplace apologetic term ‘I deserve death -’ for he fears the baster- emperor - might agree. Instead he bows low, folds himself into the humblest possible and opens his mouth -

“Where is she?” The emperor beats him to it, his tone remains icy, and had Shin dared to raise his head he would have noticed his eyes remain frozen too.

“Your - your majesty?” The silver - tongued man stumbles over his words and in another time the emperor would have been amused. Instead he raises an eyebrow.

“Your daughter - dear uncle, I wish to see her.”

“I cannot believe - after all the disgrace she had brought upon - why would your majesty want to ruin your day by setting your sight on something so foul…”

“Am I to be held answerable to you?” The emperor draws out his words slowly, deliberately - watching their effect in the pallor of Shin’s complexion.

“No - no! Of cause not - your majesty!”

“Very well then -” the emperor rises his voice once more. “Call her.”

“She is - she is still recovering, your majesty.”

There is a pause in which Shin fools himself into believing that he has finally deterred the emperor. He however, rises to his feet instead.

“Take me to her - then.”

“Your majesty! But - but -”

“What is the matter dear uncle?” The emperor rounds upon him, hands clasped behind his back. “Was she not proposed to be my bride? Would it be immoral of me to see her? Or is this the part where you confess to a greater scheme?”

**

It is the silence that wakes her up - for that kind of void belongs in nowhere but her dreams. The world where she desperately wished to return, but could never grasp in the realm of reality. Ha Jin waits, eyes closed and pulse pounding in her ears. She waits for a sound of heels on marble - a tick tock of a clock - a buzz of a mobile or the screech of a car.

Nothing comes.

Instead in the stillness that surrounds her - somewhere in the distance a wolf howls and she freezes. It has little to do with the chill slowly curling up her toes, or the sound of wind outside - but the realization that sinks in slowly.

No - it couldn’t be.

No. No.

Her purpose here was done. That was the answer she was given.

Done. Dusted.  

A king no longer needs a kingmaker. No matter how much she ached for the man she loved. In his life she no longer had a part to play.

Her tears had dried up a long back - her aching heart still throbbing from time to time. Her pleas still fresh in her mind.

“I need to go back to him!”

“You can’t,” she was answered. “Your role has ended. Your body burned. You cannot return.”

Shifting between mist and rain - sleep and dreams - the darkness behind her closed eyelids feels warm. She wonders, filling the silence with her thoughts, she wonders what this was - an imagination? A delusion? Another universe that has pulled her in? Another time frame?

Whatever it is - she resolves to herself - she will not challenge the fates. One thousand years worth of heartbreak was enough. She did not have it in her to go through the same yet again.

In the darkness a hand brushes over her forehead and a voice speaks.

“Perfect my Rose, you’ve done so well.” The voice is willfully distorted, as if to keep away an identity. There is no real affection in the touch that wipes her forehead. “My little obedient Rose… I wouldn’t have believed someone could accomplish so much with a single cut across the skin. But you brought the dragon all the way into your den… Perfect - perfect!” The voice coos and cackles. “Keep your thorns sharp my darling - and play your part. The hunt begins now - the beast is coming!”

Notes:

Hello! :-) So this is another one of those drafts that I've decided to flesh out - in hopes that you will like it as much as my first attempt. This is mainly a time travel fic, the ins and outs of that particular aspect will be dealt with at a later point. As you can see it is set at a time after Hae Soo's death. It will not follow historical events other than loosely touching a few. And I must tell you before you regret it later - I know of Gwangjong only as much as Wikipedia does.

Chapter 2: Lost soul

Summary:

He is not the same man she left behind.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It is not her So - she chokes on the thought. Not him, but a shell of the man he used to be. Gwangjong - the word fills her mouth like acid that she cannot swallow. Her mind is plagued with a vision she had long forgotten - of the blood thirsty monster of her prophecies - and she wonders, guilt stricken, if it had been her, if she had scraped off all emotions from his being.

Coldness radiates from him - as if he had brought winter along his wake. He does not look at her, but she could see it in his stance - on his tensed jaw, weary shoulders, pressed lips - his detest is stark.

The flimsy draperies of slate black sway between them - obstructing her view for the sake of modesty - like smoke from a doused fire. And she yearns to tear it off - reach out and pull his gaze towards her.

“Look at me!” She wants to scream. “Tell me what happened to you?” She wants to demand - beg - protest - until she reaches some deep part where he is still her So. Some part of his soul that remains warm beneath all the carved ice. Instead her fears clog up her throat, creeping up her airway and pricking behind her eyes. She fears his answer - you - you ruined me!  

And the Kangs are planning to kill him.

She had never learned it before - how deep the loathing run in their hearts. Ha Jin thinks back to the voice that had roused her from sleep - in this game, she is merely a pawn to lure him out, a siren singing from the rocks. This woman who shares her face - is supposed to lead him to his end. That much she absorbs from the vague words.

Perhaps that is what had drawn her back, a purpose for her to exist, to save him - from them - from himself.

The old woman who brushes her hair calls herself Ah Ri, she has served her aunt - the concubine Kang herself before she was given the responsibility to groom her - the young daughter of the clan leader. Her fingers are veiny - knotty and wrinkled, and her lips spawn poison.

She talks of Gwangjong in the darkest of terms. She talks of the slaughter of her brother - an adviser to the emperor - the second to minister of defense. In words that leave her trembling Ah Ri paints a picture of blood and gore, of when the emperor killed him with his own sword - an spectacle for his entire court. There was no trial - no inquiry - no explanation. He had killed many more - Ah Ri rasps, pulling at her hair as she braids it - will kill many more, if he is not stopped. His hands are dripping with blood of people who had built this nation along with his father - she should remember that - she should never let those hands touch her. She should never allow him take control of her clan.

They had no intention of offering him a bride - to have another concubine Kang in Shinju. They want to compell him to take her back to Songak - an envoy of death - a spy - a court lady. 

Ah Ri speaks of witchcraft, of enchantments she had employed to give her that face. The only face that would make the beast pause - that would make him fall at her feet, lay his heart in her palm. There she is to choke him bit by bit - tightening - twisting - squeezing until the end. Her words leave Ha Jin gasping for breath herself - wondering if it was the same enchantment that had pulled her into the body of this unknown woman. Wondering what would have happened if it had not brought her - if this woman - who looked like her had none of her feelings towards So. Would death come to him wearing her face?

But it is not Ah Ri or the Kangs that worry her - for had that been all to it he would be safe once he leaves this cursed place. The emperor has no business to visit Shinju - again. What worries her is how perfectly the Kang girl has been taught to imitate her - who among Kangs could have that much of intimate knowledge about her, when in her previous life she had never interacted with any of their clan. Does it mean Ha Jin thinks reflecting back to her life as Soo - that there is someone back in Songak who wishes to use her as a weapon for regicide?

What they plan to play is a mind game. She is to act like Soo without any memories of the emperor. A girl who looks like her, speaks like her, has views similar to hers but is not her. The lady Kang has already intrigued the emperor by her act of insubordination - slicing her wrist just like before. She had woken up to their jubilant celebrations of success. He was coming. She had his attention. Seeing him - perhaps - her old memories would return... they suggest with wicked glee. What would the emperor deny to his old lover? 

It is that curiosity that makes her hold her silence - for as Ha Jin she would never find the truth, never trace the strings that bind her back to her puppeteer. So she wears the mask fate has handed her - wears it in silence drinking up all the details they offer her, playing her part as their weapon.

Forgive me So - she thinks for herself - deceiving is the only way to save you.

“You sent me a letter cousin,” he calls her back to the reality. Never had his voice been so cold addressing her that she shudders at the ice twisting around her spine. “A death you chose is better than a life chosen for you - they were your words, correct? Or is it your aunt’s subtle way of letting me know that death is preferred to a marriage to me?”

“You killed my brother -” she tells him, her voice faint like the wind swaying the curtains. Tell me it’s not true - tell me you had reasons - she wishes in silence.

“You will address me as ‘your majesty’,” he picks on her slip, in a tone as sharp as a blade. It is the time she had spent back in her world pulling her back - slowing her down. Her memories of Goryeo are too faint to remember every norm that had been once drilled to her core by lady Oh.

“You killed my brother, your majesty,” she corrects herself rather bitterly. Does the title matter to you so much?

“His actions warranted it.” His honesty is brutal. “Are you aware yours could extend to three generations?”

His aloofness frustrates her, frustrates her enough to colour her tone.

“Would you kill me for making a choice for myself, your majesty?” Weren’t you the man who once told me there is no point in living like that? Or has the years changed you so much that you have forgotten yourself? Those words she swallow just as he turns to face her. Look at me - she implores in silence, the words she cannot speak aloud for she knows that they are listening in - judging her performance - It’s me - Look at me! So instead she speaks words that would rile him up, or perhaps bring their past to his mind.

“I choose not to be a pawn of a power game, I choose not to follow the fate of my aunt. I refuse to be a bargaining chip - used and forgotten and never seen again! I refuse to be touched by hands stained in my brother’s blood! I -”

His sudden movement drowns the rest of her words. He snatches her wrist - ripping apart the flimsy excuse of a curtain - pulling her closer in a swift unpredictable move.

Up close his eyes burn and her throat is dry, he stares into her eyes with a fury that makes her teeth rattle.

“You would rather wait for that traitor to bring back an army from Khitan and wed him?” He growls and her eyes widen. Which traitor did he speak of? Slowly he notices the shape of her eyes - his gaze shift and rake through her face - his grip slackens letting her hand drop back to her side. He stumbles a step backward - eyes never leaving hers.

Before he moves further she grips a fist full of his robe, giving into the temptation to hold him - and for one confused moment he allows her to.

“So…” his name spills from her lips in a sigh of longing as she drinks in the face that she had resigned never to see again. “So - I -”

“How dare you!” He barks, breaking free of her hold, pale and shaking.

“So…”

“I see it now -” he tells her, corner of his mouth twitching. “So this is your scheme?”

She refuses to believe that he is lost to her for she reaches for him again, desperate and eyes brimming with tears.

“Touch me again -” he warns in a low dangerous tone. “And you will regret it - lady Kang.”

He leaves her to collapse on the ground, a silent sob choking her breath. He leaves without giving her a chance to explain - fists curled in fury, steps heavy and stance guarded. It is then that she realizes that her mistakes continue to haunt their lives - the secrets she had buried had grown into poisonous trees.

She had never told him who she was, how she came to Goryeo and now - he is no longer willing to listen.

Notes:

A long story short - She does look like Soo. I wouldn't want it otherwise. Only, So won't buy it that easily. ;-)
Open to your thoughts, who do you think is plotting regicide back home? Will Soo ever find out?
On a different note - you guys are super awesome! I mean it's been less than a week and this tiny fic crossed 100 hits! Thank you so much!
I might not be available in the coming week - have sudden arrangements that conflict with my updating schedule. Accept this as an advance apology gift :-)
See you soon!

Chapter 3: Threads that bind

Summary:

Of people - his and hers.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Loneliness bleeds in from the cracks he leaves open on his wake. Ha Jin feels the winter in her bones - the darkness that trails after him - that threatens to consume him - she feels it creeping up her throat and choking her breath, leaving her own sob come out a broken whimper.

She doesn’t hear the maid enter and only realizes her presence when the girl’s hesitant hand grabs her shoulder and gently shakes her awake. When her bloodshot eyes flickers upwards to her face - the maid collapses on her knees immediately. Ha Jin frowns at her. The veneration of the Kang servants towards their lady is still unfamiliar to her - for some reason in the young woman’s pale face what Ha Jin sees is not loyalty, but fear.

“Yes?”

The girl shudders at her voice and bows deeper that her forehead grazes the ground. Ha Jin scoots away from her, getting to her feet. She is oblivious to what Lady Kang made of such displays, but she finds them uncomfortable. “What is it?”

Tears drain down the young girl’s face as she starts to beg.

“It’s Young Sun, Agassi -  Sun Young beseeches to see you again!”

“Sun Young?” she rolls the unfamiliar name on her tongue and the woman flinches at her indifference.

“I deserve to be beaten for daring to say this - but for old time’s sake Agassi - you may never see your childhood companion again!  Sun Young- Sun Young won’t make it through the night…”

Reaching out Ha Jin clasps the trembling hands of the young woman - making her wide eyes look into hers with amazement.

“If you order me Agassi,” the girl says hesitantly. “Da young would take you out… Only if you tell me to. Da Young could help you escape.”

“Da Young -” when she speaks she chooses her words carefully. “Take me to her.”

On their way, Da Young tells her about her sister - Lady Kang’s childhood companion Sun Young. She bites her lip to the rising questions as they trot through the snowy terrains not wanting to rouse suspicions on her authenticity. The young woman had been banished from the Kang compound after falling ill during the epidemic spell that took her aunt concubine Kang’s life. She wondered what Young Sun wanted to tell her. Ha Jin knew little about the Kangs - or their secrets. She could not have imagined what waited her in the dilapidated cottage of the sick woman. Da young called it the grace of Lord Kang to provide her with a roof - the common practice was the banish the infected to the mercy of wolves in the wild. But it wasn’t compassion - rather compulsion - Ha Jin realizes once she arrives.

Young Sun has a child.

The baby malnourished and sickly as it is, wails on the rags. Its mother beaten by her own ill health hardly has the strength to hold it. The illness had robbed her beauty - the woman has too wide eyes set in a too narrow face. Her cheeks are pale and her lips cracked. There is no warmth in the hands that squeeze hers when Ha Jin helps her to lay down. In that weary face and teary eyes she sees reflections of too many women she lot - of Myung Hee and her painful love, Of Lady Oh and her broken heart and of her own determination to live.

“Da Young -” she speaks softly. “Bring me water - warm. There must be some mint leaves in the bag I brought - bring that as well.”

“Agassi -” Rasps the woman, she sounds so worn and ragged that Ha Jin could hardly believe they were of the same age. “There is no need to. You came - it is enough for me.”

“Young Sun, I know what I am doing - this will offer you relief.”

The woman holds her hand tighter in both of hers, clutches it against her heart. She feels its weak flutter against her palm and her own eyes prick with moisture.

“No…” she insists, choking back a sob. “Agassi - you cannot save me. But - but - I beg of you. Please - please - save my baby.”

“Young Sun…”

“Your brother would not have acknowledged her - still she has the blood of Kangs. It would be a sin if they kill their own.”
”My brother -”

“Believe me - Agassi -” Her voice breaks and her breath hatches. “Please - please have mercy!”

Something about her tone makes Ha Jin shivers. Her prayer is not for a friend. She tastes the fear in her words. She wipes the face of the woman who had her eyes closed, her brows frowned in thought.

Young Sun thinks the Kangs are behind her misfortune. Young Sun thinks she is aware. Young Sun wants her to forgive the child. Exactly what kind of a woman was lady Kang?

Ha Jin picks up the wailing baby in her arms, the warm weight makes her heart ache with memories of her own little girl. She rocks her gently shutting her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. Her heart burns with yearning. For the first time since waking up she finds it impossible not to think of her baby and she wonders if Jung was taking good care of her - was she grown up - will she remember her? When she opens her eyes again they meet the mildly curious eyes of Young Sun.

“Agassi…” her voice has grown weaker as she holds out a trembling bony limb towards them. Ha Jin returns to her side, still clutching the baby to her bosom. “Thank you…” her eyes grow distant and the hand falls limply back to her side. Her lips still move hardly making a sound.

“Tiger - flowers - phoenix - shadow…” she murmur and her eyes snap open again. Young Sun clutches a handful of her collar and draws her closer. “Don’t trust her!”

“Who?” She gets no answer, as she watches life vanishes from the depth of her eyes. “Young Sun? Young Sun? Who?”

Da Young barges in, throwing the door open.

“Agassi! They are coming!” She gasps. “The soldiers are coming Agassi!”

**

Fate always chose her kin with cruelty, Ha Jin thinks as she escapes into the blowing winds. Her feet dig in the soft snow and eats at her speed. Her heart pounds in her ears and against her ribs. Still she pushes herself forward the baby clutched against her chest. Behind her voices rise and wrack the silence of the night. The soldiers arguing with Da Young who wants to send her sister off in peace. The guardsmen carry orders from Lord Kang - to set fire to everything that the diseased woman has touched - everything including the baby. The inhumanity rattles her soul.

“The other one escapes!” Shouts one of the men, fear nips at her heels and she trots on the snow faster - icy blast of wind pushes her back, whips her own hair against her face - only her fury keeps her warm and keeps her going.

There had never been a chance of out running men on horses. She holds her ground when they surround her, their spears pointed at the child clutching a handful of her escaped strands in its tiny fist.

“Give us the child!” Orders the man heading the group. “And leave at once!”

“No!” She stumbles backwards, eyes never leaving the man’s face. “No!”

“It has been condemned to death!”

“Take me to lord Kang!” She speaks with all the authority she could assume. “I will speak to him myself.”

“Lord Kang has already given our orders!” The man snorts. “What else would a woman speak with him? The child is contaminated - it must die in order to end the plague that took noble consort Kang’s life!”

“Young Sun did not have an epidemic - no does the child!” Winter air burns in her throat as she screams. “You are mistaken!”

“Do you wish to follow it?” There is a dark edge to the man’s voice and as she stumbles further back - another of his companions grab her from behind, locking her elbows immobile. From her unwilling arms they rip the child away, she claws at them, a scream of despair scraping her throat. The man slaps her across the face - his companions chortle when she loses her footing in the ankle deep snow.

“Orders are to leave none -” the man says, grabbing her by the hair. “And it extends to any sympathizers…”

“Leave me! I am the lady of Kangs! I said -”

Splatter of blood on her face drowns away her words. The man gargles on his own blood before collapsing on the snow, she scoots away when he falls face first towards her. A dagger sticks from the back of his throat, its wolf engraved hilt gleaming ominously in the moonlight. The rest of the guardsmen are perplexed for a moment shocked into a silence by the sudden - brutal demise of their leader. That moment’s delay is fatal. They barely make out the whirl of dark robes as their offender pulls free its weapon and plunges above the knee of another, his sword finding the heart of a third with a sickeningly wet sound. The man spins and his blades swing, a deadly dance that cuts through several of his enemies at once. Blood blooms in the stark white of the snow and Ha Jin clasps her hands over her ears - teeth sinking into her lower lip silencing a scream - around her guardsmen of Kangs lay scattered like some obscene crop and she could barely lift her eyes to seek out the man who fell upon them like some angel of death.

He does not give her reprieve enough to catch her breath. Instead rough hands grasp her waist and hoist her into a horse, with an arm secure around her - the low command spoken to the horse curls into her ear. Warmth spreads over her at the sound of that voice for she knows very well to whom it belongs.

**

Endless plains of whiteness roll into distance and hurts his eyes with their blinding contrast. Chun keeps his eyes narrowed, searching for any signs in the stillness. Two of the guardsmen follow at a distance, tension simmers between them, so does fear. He had given the men an earful once he realized they had been unforgivably negligent in their duties. Still there is no sign of the emperor.

The chill pricks at him, Chun being a child of much warmer lands finds the winter of Shinju uncomfortable. Unease prickles under his skin. The emperor had not slept the night before. Knowing him for several years as well as he did Chun could make an educated guess on what kept him awake and the knowledge did not please him. By midnight - he had vanished.

The guardsmen eye Chun with fear mingled admiration, he is much younger than they are - still the only warrior to be personally trained by his majesty when he was still a prince. His story circulates in whispers, of when the prince had rescued him from fight arenas of later Jin as a ten year old child. Chun had followed the prince since - to Songak - Seokyung and beyond. Now that his prince sits on the throne it felt only right that Chun still followed - the right hand man. He is his majesty’s eyes and ears in the force and the men guarded their tongues around him.  

Chun cares little for their opinion of him. His majesty had been nineteen then, when he saved Chun from death - ever since, his life had been the emperor’s. Chun does not like Shinju - it has little to do with the uncomfortably frosty nights. It feels like they are standing at the jaws of a trap, waiting for them to close. The unease that prickles his skin is that of a prey feeling the predator’s eyes. He would not lose the sight of the emperor in terrains like these - which he is uncertain belonged to friends or foes.  

“Please -” he waves at the men, “go back to guard the empty chambers.”

The fury that sized him when he realized that they were not even aware the king is gone had made Chun feel afraid - he would have committed murder, still would - if the fools had failed to guard his monarch.

The frosty air fills his lungs in an uneasy breath as he is reminded of the possible reasons for the emperor to vanish. He recalls their first glimpse of Shinju and a fragment of a conversation at the cliff edge that overlooks the compound of Kang’s nestled in the valley below.

Chun had nudged his horse forward, following after the flicker of black from the emperor’s mount in the vast snow.

The ground steeps and ends in a slide of ice, pricks of crystallized water hang from the edge of the cliff like giant teeth of an open mouthed monster. Perched on the top of it - he finds his monarch. Fine snow dusts the fur he wears, layers of his cloak blowing in the wind. His trained eyes spot the tension on his shoulders from far and the pressure of the white knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword.

“Your majesty,” Chun greets as he dismounts.

“Chun - ah,” he replies after a moment. “Have you seen the wall of Kangs before?” he gestures at the gates in the distance - the crunch of wheels turning as it opens. “The real Shinju lies beyond - the common folk - the sick - the starved at the mercy of wolves in the wild and the wolves inside the wall.”

“I have not, your majesty.” Chun says intrigued. “I thought they take people in during the winters?”

“They do - from the front gates - from the back they throw out the undesirable.” The note of disdain is apparent in his tone that Chun cannot help but ask.

“Why are you here - your majesty?”

“To think Chun - ah. To see…”

“What exactly your majesty plans to see here?”

The emperor does not reply, instead Chun notices that his attention is elsewhere. In the distance he hears the first traces of chaos and sees the guardsmen gathering at the gate.

“The trap and the best way out of it.”

Chun knows in the present that the emperor plans on investigating the Kangs. The marriage is only a veil on his real motives. The fortress of Shinju had proved to be impenetrable to outsiders - he had made them invite him in. Only the Kangs had their own traps laid down to entangle him otherwise. Still he knows that woman his majesty searches for - the mistress of young lord Kang - is out here somewhere. She is the only person left who could supply them with the information they want. Chun knows - Kangs would not make it easy.

He is hardly surprised when he finds the emperor finally - drenched in blood and heaving for breath. What bewilders him is the petite woman in his arms.

“Chun - ah,” he dismounts swiftly at the sight of them. “They’ve been a step ahead of us.”

He had already seen the flames in the distance.  

“They must not know your presence out here Peyha -” Chun bows yet he cannot help but watch the woman clutching the reins with one trembling hand. On the other arm she clutches a bundle against her body. The emperor follows his gaze and meets her eye. Chun feels the shift in the air.

“They will not.” He replies finitely.

 

Notes:

My addiction to mystery bleeds into everything. This is more of a pace setting chapter - boring I agree - but necessary for what for the events to follow. Bear with me as I build up the foundation for - hopefully - greater things! :-)

Chapter 4: Black Rose

Summary:

Can she save him from herself?

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The eyes that had pulled her in holds her in place. Once she had charted their depths, counted each fleck of caramel that swims the bottomless black - now she drowns again in uncharted waters. The emperor helps her dismount once she had handed over the baby. The young man at the head of the imperial guard holds the child awkwardly his posture too rigid for the task.

His hands on her waist are too familiar that it takes effort not to lean in. The tension in the air helps anchor her senses yet Ha Jin allows a second for her palm to press against his heart. He indulges a moment longer than she had expected before prying her hand off rather cruelly. The blood that coats her palm is still warm and she speaks before processing the thought.

“You are injured!”

Mid movement of turning away from her, she bunches a fist full of material from his sleeve, causing the emperor to still and turn around sharply. A miscalculated move it is - that brings them too close, the tendrils of their exhale entangle in the winter night. Unconsciously she clutches tighter, as he looks down upon her.

“You’ve crossed a line too many today, cousin,” he speaks slowly, in a voice reserved for her. There is a daring look in his eyes which she ignores in favor of his pallor.

“Your majesty is bleeding!”

“I’ve killed people!” He snaps, but does not pull away. “I’m covered in their blood.”

She feels it a moment in advance - the fault in his steps and steadies him with her other hand before he loses his balance. Protocol be damned - her arm remains supporting him and she raises her chin - looking straight at Chun who averts his gaze.

He tries to fight it, the drowsiness that comes in waves, the woman’s arms that cradles him. But it feels so familiar, so very comforting and he feels wretched and heavy and unable to fight off her indulgence anymore.

Not her - not Soo - but his judgement is growing hazier with each passing moment. So sighs and watches his exhale rising like smoke, feeling her pulling him closer, supporting his weight, his head settles heavily against her shoulder. He feels her pulse racing and snuggles against the fragrance of peonies in the crook of her neck. Soo never smelled like peonies in winter, instead she would smell like teas that she brew, flowers that she dried, smoke and herbs. He tries to push her away.

“What are you people waiting for?” She demands them furiously. “Help me take him to the compound!”

Chun steps forward a hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Allow me, my lady -”

Her eyes flare.

“No!” She snaps, suddenly defensive. “I will not leave him in your hands.”

“We are under orders lady Kang,” Chun tries to keep his frustration from showing, concern for his king and the doubts about the woman who had the face of another bleeding into his words. “His majesty is not to go back to the Kangs in this condition - please step away.”

“His majesty will have to order me himself,” she holds her ground and her eyes dart to the man himself. Worry knots at her brow and she concedes to Chun’s arm supporting the emperor instead, although her grip remains.

“Take me with you.”

“Lady Kang, that is not -”

“He isn’t supposed to bleed that much,” her voice shakes and she dares not remove her eyes from Chun’s. “You need to stop the blood. Where you want to take him - is there a physician?”

Chun swallows thickly and watches her for a moment longer.

“Are you volunteering to treat, lady Kang? What are your merits? How can I trust you with the son of heavens?”

“Watch over while I work,” she offers, her wide eyes unblinking. “I don’t mind your blade hanging over me.”

Her words are followed by a pause before Chun’s grip loosens around the hilt of his sword.

“One misstep lady Kang, you won’t be the first woman to taste my wrath…”

**

An army - an army in Shinju.

The thought is stuck in her head from the moment she had first seen the flag - less, expense of bare tents. He had brought an army into Shinju with the Kangs being none the wiser. She credits it to the years he had spent in the wildness of the terrains - that So knows the landscape well enough to find the exact place where the mountains could hide a troop from the hawk eyes of the great pass. Nestled between two peaks in the valley bellow they are safe from the harsh winds of the unforgiving winter and the white tents are camouflaged in the blanket of snow.

He means to war - her hands tremble as they tear off the last layer of blood drenched clothing. The sight of blood pouring from the cut at his shoulder makes her brain curl - Chun looks up sharply at the hiss that escapes her lips. The cut is deep, but no sign of clotting worries her. It has been closer to an hour since the injury was sustained she thinks with a sinking heart.

“Alcohol!” Her voice rings sharp. “Do you have alcohol?” Chun frowns, but nods briskly.

“What of it?”

“We need to suture the injury.”

“Absolutely not!”

“I’ve -”

“My lady is a daughter of a militant clan,” Da Young speaks edgewise, breaking their burning eye contact. She was caught by the guard for trailing after them and now sat with the baby.

“Get out!” Chun snaps without looking at her. Da Young jumps to her feet but still lingers long enough to add, “she knows what she is talking about. She is no stranger to battle wounds!”

Her words makes Chun exhale but at the same time makes Ha Jin’s breath hitch. She had been operating on autopilot, too engrossed in concern to pause and reconsider her actions. The half formed thought is drowned by the harsh breathing of the emperor. She places a hand over his heart, feeling the flicker of a misplaced beat and looks over at Chun.

“You need to hurry.”

It is when she twists the last knot of the perfect surgical seam that the truth strikes her. Those words - those decisions - those all too perfect movements, they belong to a stranger - the daughter of a militant clan who was familiar with battle wounds. It was not Ha Jin who saved So, but lady Kang. Exhaustion makes her thoughts turn darker and she feels the weight of another’s memories pressing into her conscious. It was not like Hae Soo, who was merely a name that she borrowed. Lady Kang is still very much a part of her. She feels emotions that are not her own nipping at her psyche, slowly creeping up, twisting around her own desires.

She chokes on her words when she makes a move to hold Chun back as he leaves, finally dropping his guard against the woman who saved the life of his monarch. Instead her eyes dart back to the pale, sleeping man.

The intensity of the hatred that burns her scares Ha Jin. There is ice running up her spine as the cruel thought shifts in her head. Blood thinners - he has been given blood thinners. Too much of it, too strong a dose. A mere cut could kill him. It takes no skill - it takes no power. The stage had been set for her.

Her own hand seems to her like a pale, vicious spider - stretching out to pick the dagger that she used for cutting the thread earlier. It had all been good for earning the trust - making the stage for this moment. So good - she inhales sharply - there is no need to taint herself further. The murderer of her brother was right there - at her mercy.

Her grip clutches around the hilt - fighting against her own need to stop it, a growl escapes her at the sheer power it takes to overpower the other half of her conscious that seems to care - that seems to love.

She brings it down with all the wrath she could master - she pulls it back with all the energy she could find. Her arm shakes violently but still come down like a stroke of lightening -

A grip on her wrist holds off her movement.

Her wide, frightened gaze meets the open eyes of the emperor. He gives her no time to regroup. There is an energy to him that has been etched to his very soul and is drained away with no amount of blood he lost. He flips them around with the cold edge of the blade pressed against her throat.

Notes:

Unlike in the event of Ha Jin becoming Hae Soo, Lady Kang is not completely gone and sometimes she is able to influence and control her own body. I hope its not too confusing, think of it as two souls fighting for one body. I guess one might need an exorcism soon.. ;-)
This was scheduled for 24th, sadly I'm out of town and suffering a bad network connection. I hope this is enough to be forgiven for my long periods of absence. :-) :-)

Chapter 5: King's Bane

Summary:

No one wearing a crown comes in the name of peace

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

She is a woman of terrifying beauty, with skin white like jade and hair inky coils of darkness… She wears dark grayish fur and in his nightmares they are always drenched in blood. The woman walks to a beat that seems to sync with and sink into his pulse, throb against his temples and run along his spine. Chill settles into his bones when she looks down at him, tearing through the shadows that hide him from her. In front of her, he is a cowering child, feeble, helpless and too small and his adoptive mother is a giant - growing taller along with his fear. She stretches out towards him a hand that drips with blood and her lips curl back into a snarl; an animalistic screech escapes her - curling his brain, crushing his windpipe - splitting his eyes open.

So wakes up, in time to hold the blade that wavers in the air. He overpowers her without a thought, still in the thrall of his nightmare and sees the same murderous intent flash at him through the mask of his lover’s face. Breath hitches in his throat - just like the first time he had seen her…those wide eyes, those trembling lips - and that dearly beloved face - he tires to catch himself from the very last ends of his senses. His grip goes slack against the soft palpable skin of her throat under his fingers as he sees the glint of evil sink into the deep abyss behind her glistening orbs and vanish - leaving them brimming with fresh tears. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist pushes the steel against her neck, forcing the blade to remain there as she catches his gaze.

That look - blessed heavens - he had seen that look before, had been brought to his knees by that look before. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away, reining in the pounding heart that tried to tear through his ribs.

“It hasn’t ended for me…” She had told him once - breaking through his cold facade with that look. It had led to terrible things - beautiful but terrible things.

A trick. He reminds himself. Swallows the truth forcefully. A trick.

The steel breaks a hairline of red and her exhale is harsh.

“Cousin -” he forces the word through his mouth.

But her hold is relentless. It is as if the woman that holds the blade against her own throat with defiance and the woman that speaks have two different motives.

“Don’t -” she gasps from a pain that he does not cause, but feels nevertheless. “Hold me here - whatever it takes - let me go…please - let me go!”

“Peyha!”Chun’s call is full of alarm and it makes his grip jerk, drawing a darker line of red against the warm white of her throat. The younger man drops to his knees without a further thought and speaks with his eyes on the ground. “The lady of Kangs saved your majesty’s life - this official begs you, not to misunderstand her actions.”

The young woman slips away from his hold - away from him, as swiftly as his gaze moves from her to Chun. He turns in time to see her rushing out, fingers clawing at her throat and leaving a choked sob behind.

“I thought I was clear enough when I said nobody was to touch me?” He does not bother to grant Chun leave to rise before pausing the question. Instead he frowns, lips pressed into a crooked line. “What made you think the order excluded the lady Kang?”

There is a pause in which the young man looks bashful. So cares very little for his discomfort. Chun knows - Chun knows why he does not trust the imperial physician. Chun knows - Chun knows and still -

“Chun - ah, I’ve asked you a question.”

“This official was worried for your majesty’s life…” Chun says slowly. “And lady Kang insisted -”

“She is not who you think she is -” the emperor says, rising to his feet. His stance is unsure for a moment, before he winces flexing his arm, stretching into his full height. “Don’t let her face fool you Chun - ah. ” He repeats his words, slowly, in a low voice reserved for himself. “Don’t let her face fool you…”

**

A cut barely there on her skin, stings against the cold. She puts as much distance as she could manage between him and herself before collapsing, sinking to her knees on the thick - cold snow. Her teeth clutters against a sob and hot tears drain down her frozen cheeks.

She had almost killed him - with her own hands - by her own will.

The thought still hums under her skin, now dormant, taken over by a much stronger force, Ha Jin’s feelings for So - but she is uncertain for how long it would hold on. And the uncertainty frightens her.

She is not Hae Soo. The bitter truth claws at her relentlessly. She is no longer Ha Jin either. This woman - this lady Kang wanted nothing of what Ha Jin desired. She has to leave - she decides with her next ragged inhale. Until she learns what it means to be lady Kang and how to control this new identity of hers, she would cause nothing but danger to So. She has to leave.

“My lady…!” Da Young rushes to her, wrapping her up in her own cloak - threadbare as it is. Her words rattle as she twists down to help her back to her feet.    

“Da Young - ah,” she clutches her work worn hands, suddenly realizing how soft an unfamiliar her own palms are. “Get me home! Let’s go home.”

The girl watches her with wide eyes and seems to capture the fear reflected in her features. They rise together, hands clasped and exhaling smoky air.

“Ye - Yes Agassi!” Stutters Da Young nodding earnestly.

The snow crunches under their feet as the guardsmen surround them, they had barely taken few steps further and the chill finally settles in her bones.

“What is the meaning of this?” It is a battle in itself to keep her voice steady, when she knows the answer to her own question. She knows too much, to walk away unbarred. She has seen too much of his secret for So to allow her free passage back to the Kangs.

She expects to see Chun and nurtures a sliver of hope to talk around his determination. Instead the men bow and part, making way for their monarch. Unconsciously Da Young takes a step back - her hand slips away from Ha Jin’s. The young woman sinks back into her knees, trembling half from fear than cold. The same fear makes her immobile as Ha Jin stares at him approaching - numb to Da Young’s grip at the rim of her sleeve, tugging her down.

He is yet to don the imperial robes, she notes absentmindedly. Instead he is clad in the grab of a general - a lord of the mountains with thick fur on his shoulders.

“What are you up to So?” She silently wonders.

He steps closer and closer yet. Holding her gaze with a mildly amused one of his own, he stops when she could feel the heat of his breath on her face.

“Accept my apologies, cousin - I’ve been negligent of your service,” he speaks smoothly but she feels the sly edge. Her feet retreat on their own accord. He holds her by elbow before she could move further. “Allow me to make amends.”

She bows automatically.

“I wouldn’t dare - Your majesty. There is nothing to make amends for. It is my duty to make sure of your safety on my father’s lands. But I am rest assured now. Please allow me to return home without causing worry to my lord father -”

“Stay cousin - it is a request.”

“Please I beseech -”

“It is a request now - next it will be an edict.” He cuts her off and the guardsmen close in. “Which would you prefer dear cousin?”

Her eyes burn against the cold, rimmed with red as she looks up at him. It is a look that she knows of unforgiving determination and Ha Jin feels her heart pound uncertainly.

She means to kill - she thinks in despair - I must take her away from you. She had thrown him away once - though the mere thought feels like heartache now, Ha Jin knows she will not survive causing him harm. She had not survived a broken heart once - his blood on her hands feel ten folds more fetal. She makes no attempt to retain the tears that hang heavily on her lashes - under the weight of her conscious her knees buckle. She collapses on a heap of skirts, a clumsy curtsy of despair rather than respect.

“Please…please…”

It feels like physical agony even when he knows it is not her - even then - he can barely stand the sight of her despair. So clutches his fist, clenches his jaw and turns away, squeezing his eyes shut. Still her sobs trail after him. His mouth twists at the irony of it all. Soo - ya - he thinks - they used your face to lure me into this. That is what they think you are to me - a weakness - a distraction - as if I’d walk into a deathtrap without knowing.

He sighs. He would willingly go to hell to keep her warm, but he would never allow them to use her as a weapon - this bloodshed - he thinks - they brought it upon themselves. They wanted a battle - he would give them a war.

He fails though - he fails to ignore her. Tear his thoughts completely away from her. It makes him feel wretched and he despises himself for every second of it. Instead of walking away he wraps her in his own furs. Helping her rise back to her feet.

“Do you love him?” It is a question he cannot help but ask, his lips curl in spite of himself. He feels bitter - a feeling so familiar. Somewhere in the very depth of his soul he is still the boy who watched from the threshold as his mother coddled a newborn brother - completely immersed in him to notice her other child. Each moment the pause drags on he despises himself for daring her answer. It is not even the woman he loves - only a reflection of her - and yet he burns in the acid of his own twisted emotions.

Do you love him enough to risk it all? Allow yourself to be used like a pawn? Are the questions he wants to ask, but he dares not. He hasn’t forgotten Chae Ryung. Hasn’t forgotten Soo’s accusing eyes, that burned into his soul.

“It was love - love is not a crime.” He hasn’t forgotten her words. And he does not think he ever will. He wonders if she ever realized how toxic love could really be. Or how twisted. He wonders what Soo would do - would she promise to spare the life of the man who wants to take his own life? Would she have forgiven a traitor for he was loved?

But then that is where his world is different from hers. His standing tragically more brutal. Forgiveness is a luxury that he could not afford. He sighs. She would have condemned him had she been here. That is why he was a king and she was not a queen. A bitter truth that he has came in terms with. Nobody who wears a crown comes in the name of peace. It is but a dull ache. He has learned to live with the knowledge that he is a sinner in her eyes. He was never allowed the chance to redeem himself.

Instead he offers what he has more than enough to spare - solitude.

“You are in my protection lady Kang - I simply cannot allow you to return to your father and warn him of his impending doom. I entertain no other intentions towards you. Your virtue is safe. You have my word.”

Notes:

I guess you see it shaping up now - the plot - hmm?
It is not the usual cocktail I'm rather nervous about the reception of this story to be honest, but as always people who are shady, have their own reasons, if you allow them time to explain. :-)
PS: I'm working like a slave on a research paper - forgive me if you don't see me as often as I would love to. :-)

Chapter 6: Envoys of death

Summary:

To choose him is to choose his darkness. He leaves her in no doubt.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

His words hang in the air as if he places a weight on her shoulder - like the furs that drowns her petite frame - like the hand he places on her head. It remains there only for a second before the emperor turns away from her, their conversation closed even before she forms her words. He waves a hand at the guardsmen as he leaves, making the men withdraw - Chun follows him, a thoughtful step behind, opening of their conversation trails behind for her to catch.

“Just a child…” She catches the self loathing in his tone.

Ha Jin draws in a piercing breath of frosty air and stumbles backward allowing Da Young’s arms to steady her. She can feel the eyes of the guards even after they had withdrawn weighing her down and suddenly fur that the emperor placed on her shoulders makes her suffocate. Chun returns a moment later, looking more reserved and respectful than before.

“It’s getting colder, my lady, you should rest inside. If you allow me - your accommodations are through here…”

Da Young’s hand curls into the material at her elbow, tugging gently so that her eyes drift towards the girl. She shakes her head softly, her eyes large with worry. Ha Jin covers her palm with her own and squeezes in a reassuring gesture before turning to Chun.

“Thank you!” She bows a little attempting to smile. Despite his reservations Chun thinks she is graceful. He clears his throat and leads the way, keeping that particular thought to himself.

“It’s going to snow before dawn -” he tells her when he takes his leave at the mouth of their tent. She says nothing as she draws the folds of her fur cloak tighter around herself and nods before entering.

It hurts to look at Chun’s face and find him looking at her as if she is a stranger. Ha Jin remembers him - fondly - as a child who used to tail after the fourth prince. During the peaceful years after crown prince Mu’s accession to throne she had often stumbled upon them sparring in the early mornings. The memory makes her think of stolen moments that feel too beautiful to be true, of So’s fingertips trailing down her throat or the warmth in his eyes as they light up in the first rays of sun. Their sparring sessions would always conclude when she makes her presence known, Chun would often throw her a dark look full of jealousy whenever the prince kicks him away. A chuckle escapes her lips making Da Young perplexed.

“”Agassi?”

A lone candle flickers in front of a small circular mirror and the air is moist and hot. Ha Jin sighs when she catches her reflection. Now both of them looks at her with reservations and doubt. She knows what they see. She sees her own face with the same distrust. The youth unblemished bu the hardships that had scarred her soul leaves her unsettled. Her cheeks are fuller, her face is paler, her hair thicker and darker. There is something unearthly perfect about her features - as if they merely mask something wicked lurking just beneath the surface.

“Agassi?” Da Young calls her again, a gentle hand at her shoulder. “Agassi - you need to run away.”

She turns too fast that the candle is swept off to the floor and they sink into darkness. Ha Jin can no longer see Da Young’s face. But her small hands reach in the darkness to tug at her sleeve - pulling her along to exit the tent under the cover of that temporary darkness. The young girl takes the fur cloak the emperor had bestowed off her shoulders, just before they walk into the night. The camp is too busy to notice them - or Da Young keeps them from running into anyone. Instead they reach the very edge of the tent lines, where the ground steeps. In the distance is a frozen river, that marks an ominous edge to their vision.

“You need to run away Agassi.” Da Young repeats herself with conviction, squeezing her hands. “After tonight is gone - you will never get the chance again.” There is frost in her voice and Ha Jin shivers.

“His majesty gave his word,” she contradicts, softly. “Nothing is happening Da Young there are so many to vouch for it.”

Da Young’s eyes glisten in the lights of distant torches, her lips twist in pity of her mistress’s naivety, her blissful ignorance.  

“And how many will, exactly, Agassi? The alliance with the prince won’t stand if word of you spending night at the emperor’s compound reaches his ears.”

Her eyes are cynical as they bore into hers. Ha Jin tears her gaze away to the miles of ice stretching ahead of her.

“The ice is still thin -” Da Young continues. “That’s why the army cannot cross yet - but we can manage it Agassi! Even though I cannot take you home - you will be safe once you reach the prince. His highness will not let you become emperor’s woman.”

The harshness of her own inhale startles Ha Jin.

“There is an army on the other bank?”

Da Young shakes her head. “You can’t wait anymore - Agassi - you need to go to the prince! Agassi! AGASSI!” Forgetting her previous stealth Da Young shouts after her, when Ha Jin suddenly sprints away, too preoccupied in her own thoughts. “AGASSI!!

**

So bolts the urge to crush something and instead bites the inside of his own cheek. The rusty taste of blood soothes him a little. Gripping a corner of the large table where several scrolls of geographical illustrations la scattered he exhales slowly, steadying himself.

“Bring me alcohol!”

He hates what he has become. He hates being unable to come in terms with his own nature. Perhaps - he thinks rather darkly - the late dowager queen had been right when she called him a monster. He tries to focus on the pain, dull as it is, that prickles against his shoulder. The stitches sting under the bandages and he feels a little lightheaded. He focuses on that and tries to forget her face. It does nothing to improve his condition that she looks so much like she did so long ago - a memory etched to the fabric of his being rises like a fresh wave of acid - of her youthful face, full of smiles as she stretched out to catch the falling snow. He had felt overwhelmed then, his heart brimming with unknown tenderness. The palace had destroyed her - he hasn’t forgotten. His father had destroyed her - condemned her to that fate. He had never seen her smile with that abundance again. His throat tightens and he gasps for a breath. He is about to do the same thing again. With each step he takes towards her, the deeper he walks in to the hell, the further he drifts from salvation. He could never forgive himself for this particular decision.

She loves another - he clutches onto that particular prick - plunging it into his conscious as deeper as it would go. He is about to ruin her chances of a life with that man forever - once again. Even the knowledge that it is not the same woman can console him no more. It doesn’t matter really, he had still done the same thing. Even worse perhaps, for he has no love to offer her either. At least he had loved Soo - somewhere down the road she had loved him back - jagged though their beginning was - he never doubted the honesty of her feelings.

What right did he have to exercise such a brutal power over someone’s life? He despises how his brain offers him thousands of justifications - shrouded in perfectly innocent claims of greater good. He knows it is greed - nonetheless - the same twisted, ugly hunger for power - to seize it and keep it - the chain that binds him to throne.

She is perfectly right in her place to hate him - despise him - even wanting to -

“How dare you!”

He turns just in time to seize the figure that bolts towards him by her elbows. Behind her enters the guards she had torn through to reach him, falling to their knees, exclaiming apologies. For a moment he expects to see the retinue barging in after - and recalls a split second later that he had dispensed with them to uphold his disguise.The entire debacle leaves his head throbbing. Instead his gaze is drawn to the eyes that are pooling with fire. She doesn’t allow him to remind her of the etiquette, frankly it doesn’t seem like that she cares much of the consequences of acting so brazenly in front of her monarch. Something about her attitude, that slip of curtsy catches him off guard - there is only one other woman who had such spells of insanity.

“Battle -” he catches distantly what she is babbling about. “Going to battle - in such condition - tactless - reckless - and -” she utters a set of words that makes no sense to him. So shakes his head slowly, trying to clear his mind. He is feeling lightheaded again.

“Cousin -” he says slowly. It doesn’t seem she registers his voice. “Lady Kang - impudent woman!” He raises his voice in the end until it drowns away her rattling speech. The guards grow pale and she exhales, her hands trembling slightly as senses return to her. “Have you forgotten your place? I am your -”

She sinks to a low curtsy before he completes his words, but still dares to cut him off.

“Your majesty cannot go to battle.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow despite himself. Her gaze flickers up into his for a fragment of a second.

“Please -” her voice shivers, draining itself of any courage she held into as she catches the shift in his gaze. “One cut might -”

“GET OUT!” She jumps at his voice and turns white, getting to her feet shakily. He stretches out a hand to hold her back. Goosebumps trail across her slender arm from where he grips her wrist. “Not you - cousin,” he adds in an undertone before turning to the guards. “I said, leave us!”

She heaves a breath as he draws her close, a sheen of perspiration gathers at her brow.

“I could take your tongue for what you just did -” he draws out his words, watching their effect on her pale face. “Don’t test me too much cousin - I might not find you amusing anymore.”

She doesn’t reply.

“Are you afraid now cousin?” Dissatisfied, he pulls her along with him - out of the tent - past the guards - he strides across the camp tugging her by the wrist. “Look around as you walk,” he tells her. “What is it that you see?”

He doesn’t stop until they have arrived at the edge of the camp, the very place where she had left Da Young. But he goes further, until the camp is faded into a thin line behind them before he releases her. “Why do you think the army bares no sigil? Why do you think they are here on your clan’s territory?” It never occurs to her before he emphasizes. He watches her darkly as understanding dawns upon her. “Why do you think you are here?”

“The enemy -” she says slowly. “Your majesty wants him to think this army is my father’s - my father -”

“Is in cahoots with them.” He completes for her, with an statement that leaves no room for doubt. “The moment they mistakes foes for friends is enough to annihilate them. What do you think I’m going to do once my suspicions are confirmed?”

Breath hitches in her throat. “The man you love - your father - what do you think will happen to them?”

He falls silent for a moment and sees the darkness that crosses her face.

“Are you really worrying for a man who is about to kill them all? There is no need of this pretense between us cousin, you hate me. It doesn’t matter. Keep no doubts about what I am going to do - I do what I say - nothing will stop me.”

He is barely finished when the black clad man tears through the night towards them, lips drawn back in a snarl and eyes blown wide. She sees him before the emperor does and the reflex comes to her automatically. She pulls out the short dagger that she knows it concealed in the emperor’s belt and plunges it into the leaping man. The blade sinks between his collar bones with a sickening sound and warm liquid squirts across her face.

Before she draws a breath more men appear, clad in black and prowling towards them. There is a sharp clank as the emperor unsheaths his blade and hooves clutter in distance before Chun gallops towards them, cutting through the men that block his path.

It takes the two men a few brutal seconds. Ha Jin stumbles backwards, heart stuck in her throat and her hands trembling. The once pristine snow is drenched in blood and she stumbles over her own feet. She cannot lift her eyes to observe their progress, for she cannot tear her gaze from her own blood drenched palms. The thick liquid is still trickling up her arms when she raise her hands. Blood - blood that she had spilled. A life that she had taken - without a thought - without a pause. Without remorse.

“Lady Kang!” Someone is screaming, she barely registers. Her brain has gone numb. Somewhere along the retreat she had dropped the dagger. Ha Jin looks up just in time to see the man approaching her with his blade waving, to see the murderous intent in his gaze. For a moment she wonders if she had earned it after all. A man - she had killed a man.

The emperor’s blade finds him before he finds her, he runs the man through and leaves him to drop on the bloody snow. There are splatters of blood across his face and a strange expression.

“Cousin?” He reaches out for her.

She does not respond.

“Jang Mi?”

He crouches down and places a hand on her shoulder. His touch makes her look up at him and something breaks inside her. She gasps for air and a whine escapes her parted lips.

“Are you hurt lady Kang?” Chun hoovers over them and neither reply.

“Come -” his voice is brisk, as the emperor rises and hoists her to her feet. Her feet wobble and his arm encircles her waist, prompting her to lean against him. It hurts to breathe and her stomach turns at the sight of the mutilated bodies. Somewhere among them is the man she killed. Bile rises up in her throat. The emperor’s hand is insistent on her cheek as he turns her face away, allowing her to burrow into his chest, bury her head against his heartbeat. In the silence dotted with the pounding of his heart, she hears him speak - his tone indifferent.

“Kill any messenger pigeons - and find me Kang Shin.”

Notes:

Jang Mi is lady Kang's given name. That is why she is called Rose in chapter one. :-)
I've split this chapter in two - the sheer length once I finished daunted me.
I'll see you again soon with the remaining part.
Meanwhile tell me your thoughts on everything so far - how do you find it - too dark perhaps? I'm afraid it is a phase we must cross to get to brighter things :-) hopefully you'll hang around!

Chapter 7: Spiderweb

Summary:

Soft and inviting - the insect never knows when it has left the safety behind.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Your majesty - your majesty - Your -” he hardly pays attention to Chun’s voice, hesitant as it is tailing after him. Instead he sets her down once they had entered the tent, depositing her trembling frame on the makeshift bed in his tent. It is then that he cuts in.
“Water - warm!”
Her hands stained with blood, refuse to leave their grip on the fur around his neck. Her eyes wide and unseeing stare over his shoulder. So tugs off her hold gently, before taking that shaking hand in his own and starting to rinse the frozen stains off her palm. He feels the shiver that runs through her at the first touch of water - jerked out of her trance - her eyes flicker into his.
He brings a cup to her lips, its cold edge pressing against her mouth insistently.
“Take a sip - it will help you sleep.”
Doubts that Ha Jin knows are not her own rise within her, she turns her face away. His fingers curl around her chin rather forcefully.
“Drink.”
Their eyes meet over the rim of the cup and her gaze traces the faint edges of the scar that runs across his face, the makeup worn off by the events of the night. It is barely visible, like a shadowy mountain range in dusk rising against his sharp features, he watches her with concern. Her throat tightens with unexpressed emotions and she allows herself a sip of the bitterness that he offers.
For a moment neither say anything. The clear water of the wooden basin runs red as he scrubs up her arm, rubbing her skin raw. She winces slightly, a harsh exhale escaping her parted lips.
“Don’t try,” he says abruptly when her lower lip starts to tremble. “You will never forget him - the man you killed. How he died. How the soul faded away. The life leaving his eyes -”
“No -” her voice is barely audible and he chooses to ignore it, cruelly, continuing undeterred.
“It gets better - you won’t remember the rest of them - it all turns into a blur after sometime. Just the first kill - the moment that tainted your soul - it remains - clear - vivid -”
“STOP IT!” In the stillness of the tent her voice echos, drowning her own thoughts into a confused blankness. Her chest heaves and she stares at him, trying to catch her breath. “Stop it…” the words leave her lips in a whine next and tears starts to fall. “Stop it - stop it!”
She snatched the rug from his hands and starts to rub her forearm on her own, clean though they are now, she feels tainted. Her moves are frenetic, rough and irregular enough to break her skin. His much larger hand covers her own and stills her movement, when the first trace of red appears.
She moves instinctively, reaching for him, waving her arms around his torso, laying her head against his shoulder. It feels familiar and somewhat soothing that she postpones thinking of the consequences of such action. He goes very still for a moment, before his other arm wraps itself around her. She bites her lip, trying to contain the sob that wracks her frame.
To Jang Mi it feels like a miserable surrender when it is him that consoles her.
“Hush,” his voice is softer than she would have imagined, his fingers thread through her hair, fingertips gracing the back of her neck. “Hush…”
Exhaustion claims her and her eyelids begin to droop, wary of her surroundings, of the man beside her, she tries to fight the waves of calm that comes to take her under and curses the unfamiliar feelings of warmth that rise and rise until her own conscious is suppressed completely once more.
Ha Jin blinks stupidly as her thoughts blur, basking in the unexpected warmth that So offers and the initial pain ebbs away, if only a little. She wonders if he would share the story of his own experience like the eighth prince had once done - to ease the darkness that had befallen her. It was a story that she had heard before however, the story of his first kill. Her head falls heavy against his chest. In her memory she recalls offering him similar comfort, with his head on her lap, her fingers stroking his head as he spoke of that one guardsmen, with a mole under his left eye, that his mother had sent to murder him.
“I’m sorry -” her words slur and in her haze she is not sure if she had spoken aloud and his fingers still on her hair. “I’m so sorry…”
“About what?” He asks suddenly.
“You were a child…so young, afraid, scarred. Too young to face it all - alone. To feel like this -” There is a pause and she wonders why she is talking about it. She wonders if the fresh tears pooling in her eyes are for that abandoned boy from so long ago. “I always wanted to tell you that - it wasn’t your fault. Wanting to survive is not your fault. That man - he is no better than a beast - there is no choice when a beast springs at you.”
Her words draw out and she sighs, burrowing against him, her eyes closed.
“I’m sorry it happened. I know you meant it when you tried to wake him up - all night, until they found you the morning. I know - I know you’ve never forgiven yourself, never forgotten. But I know you didn’t mean to - I know and I’m sorry.”
She speaks no more as sleep takes her under and So remains immobile for a moment longer. His thoughts as frozen as his muscles, he dares to let go of the air he inhaled.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Your majesty -?” Chun reappears, head bowed to avert his eyes. “Kang Shin is here.”
He exhales slowly and allows himself a moment more, simply to even out his pounding heart beat before he eases her off his embrace into the mattress.
“What about his reward?” He asks, stretching up to his full height, as he strides off to join Chun in exiting the tent.
“Waiting for him,” Chun replies promptly before falling silent rather reluctantly.
“What is it Chun - ah?”
“It is audacious of me to say -”
“Speak freely.”
“Your majesty it’s about lady Kang. The soldiers are wondering - it is natural of them to notice - though entirely not their place to speak about - I mean your majesty carried her back to the compound -” Chun rattles to a stop and inhales deeply. “The men say she has bewitched your majesty.”
His smirk in response is sharp as the edge of a knife brandished in the darkness. The emperor clasps his hands behind his back.
“Ah?” He says rather craftily. “And what do you think Chun - ah? Do I look bewitched to you?”
Chun stands still in his tracks for a moment, staring at his monarch unabashedly. It comes to him slowly, the realization. That overt display of affection may not have been impulsive - instead a calculated move - means to an end.
“Seems like I have invoked the god of rumors…”
The emperor clicks his tongue, shaking his head rather troubled. There is however a wicked gleam in his eyes that betrays him. “Let’s not keep Lord Kang waiting - shall we?”
**
“Peyha -!” The man plasters himself to the floor, before his monarch could notice the sheen of perspiration that covers his face, or his eyes that had begun to twitch. The party that escorted him had taken their time, allowing Kang Shin a proper glimpse of the mighty army gathered at his threshold, bearing his colors, but loyal to none but the emperor himself. Inwardly, he curses his foolishness to think - even for a moment - that he had out mastered a man who had fought wolves with his bare hands. A fool he had been to think he would not walk out alive once more.
“Peyha!” he could but only pray that he had not outlived his uses. His words are cut short when something heavy and jingling falls into the ground in front of him. Raising his gaze just a fraction Kang Shin notices it is a jade sigil, bearing the Kang court of arms.
“Explain!” Bites out the emperor, too agitated to take his seat, instead opting to pace in front of Kang Shin, unsettling the man even further as he tries to keep track of his boots.
“I - I don’t understand.”
“Who carries that seal?” There is a pause, a bead of sweat hangs from Kang Shin’s brow and he dares not wipe it off. “Answer me lord Kang!” The emperor speaks rather softly, his words a hiss that reminds Kang Shin of a serpent, coiling around his windpipe, tighter and tighter until his very air is cut off.
“M- my g - garrison commander, your majesty.”
“He is dead.” There is no remorse in the emperor’s tone. “Tell me Lord Kang, was your garrison commander acting under your orders when he launched an attack on me?”
“Your majesty!” The man protests loudly. “The Kangs would never! The Kangs are your majesty’s family!”
The emperor actually grins at that, though there is no humour in his twisted lips.
“Bring in the chest!” He calls out and two guardsmen carry a heavy chest inside the tent. They deposit it right in front of lord Kang and leave after making their bows to the emperor. “Family? Open the chest lord Kang - take a look at the reward I have prepared for you.”
The man tries his best to hide the tremor of his fingers as he lifts the heavy metal latch and opens the chest. His eyes widen in horror - and he takes one shocked step backwards before collapsing on the ground. It is only the many decades Kang Shin had spent in the battle field that keeps him from retching. When he looks up at the emperor - he seems unmoved.
“Is it to your satisfaction?”
“Your majesty - I -”
“Do you know the offence of lying to your monarch lord Kang?” He takes a step forward and places a casual hand on the chest lid, uncaring of the gory sight inside. “Should I add your head into the collection?”
”Your majesty - I beseech you - I -”
“The army you concealed from me - you thought you concealed from me - the soldiers you claimed to have died in the epidemic - the camp you claimed was a plague house - it is gone lord Kang. These men were loyal to you till the end, even in death their heads belong to you. The rest have knelt for me and would fight for your cause no more.”
The chest is shut with a snap.
“But you know of this already - don’t you? You’ve seen the camp burning - with your own eyes. Is it then that you decided to take the final gamble? Send a man baring your seal to attack me? Tell me lord uncle - is there one man who you think would manage to cut my throat?”
He crouches down to the level of the trembling man, teeth bared in a sneer. A predator that pounces upon a cornered prey.
“Shall I drag every living soul baring your name and execute them right this minute?”
“Mercy Peyha!” Cries the man. “Mercy! Mercy! This servant - dares not - this servant never meant to touch your imperial majesty!”
The emperor says nothing - but merely raises an eyebrow.
“The garrison commander was sent to kill off that traitor of a daughter I’ve sired.”
“Do you know you are confessing to have threatened the life of my woman?” His voice is slow and poisonous.
“Your majesty - I did not know! This ignorant - this lowly servant thought she has ran away. Blinded in love as she is - daring to insult your majesty by trying to take her own life - now that she could not attain the man she wished for - and when I found her missing from the main house - I was convinced she and that fool of a slave has ran away. It was all I could do to save my - and my clan’s name lord - please - please understand.”
“You exchanged jades with him - did you not lord Kang?”
“A grave oversight on my part Peyha! Had I known the man had so many schemes running in his mind - I would have never allowed our names to be joined, even for a moment. If I may be frank your majesty - it is because the exchanging of jades have happened that I could see no other way to escape the treason - save my daughter - other than offering her up to your majesty. For an engagement with a prince could only be overridden by an imperial summon.”
“And the army?”
“I wanted to hide my men in fear that they would be coaxed into a cause against your majesty and I gathered forces only in an event her ex - suitor comes to create troubles at my daughter’s departure.I fear it has already happened Peyha - this old fool could not save the prestige of his glorious ancestors. This old fool - deserves death!”
So that is how you will play uncle - So thinks, laughing inwardly at how predictable the lord of Kangs has become. Only he no longer wishes to crush the man under his sole, instead he could see that lord Kang is yet to outlive his use. The fish that he wishes to fry is bigger - that sprats like Kang Shin might actually serve a purpose. Do you think I do not know your schemes - he muses - only you have played into my hands- lord uncle. Enjoy this what you think is victory - enjoy the pot until the water boils.
“Your daughter saved my life,” he says slowly, pretending to consider. “Twice.”
“I would not dare beg you to forgive her youthful ignorance Peyha -” the old man takes the bait. “But if you would allow her to live - she would serve you till the end of her life.”
Ah - would she now? A court lady? You take me for a fool that would take a blade back home and leave it unsheathed?
“Prepare for the marriage ceremony.”
“Peyha?”
“You heard me - dear uncle.” I’d rather keep your blade under my pillow.
“But - but - surely she doesn’t deserve the honor. Surely - it is -”
“I leave it at your choice lord Kang, whether you want your daughter to be made a concubine or a consort - for take her I will - with or without your ceremony.”
“Peyha…” the man utters weakly. “Your benevolence knows no limits!”

Notes:

Exchanging jades is a custom I've burrowed from a Chinese historical novel. It is sort of an engagement ritual if my understanding is correct.
This would be the last update for a while - lets say, mid August. It depends on how fast my research paper is done. But at least not for a couple more weeks.
I wanted to bring this to a proper place to pause, I hope I've done that. And your interest will remain until I return.
Have fun, keep reading! :-) :-)

Chapter 8: Mask of Devil

Summary:

She thinks worst of him - he cares not.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She dreams of his eyes crinkling into half - moons as he smiles at her. But then again - it is not his eyes that she sees. They are set in a face smaller, glittering with wonder as they stare up at her, rounded and sparkling as his eyes never had. Ha Jin knows those eyes - remembers them with an aching heart that sinks with every thought. They are the eyes of her daughter.

Scent of melting wax and pinewood drift over her hazy thoughts. Ha Jin blinks drowsily, borrowing deeper in to the familiar folds of that scent, filling her lungs with memories along with air. The silk smells of So and days of yore. The haze clears up as she lifts her heavy lids, flickering lights of candles creep up to greet her, the heavy blankets slide off her arms when she sits upright.

Cries of a baby stretches into the reality across the boundaries of her dreams. She reaches out instinctively, before remembering her place - her identity and her situation. Somewhere beyond her reach, the child continues to whine. The emperor’s tent in dimly lit and secluded. The maps from before had been cleared away and Da Young rises from the shadows once she had noticed Ha Jin was rushing towards the entrance.

“Agassi!” She calls after.

“The child -” she doesn’t pause, the young girl follows with equal haste. “Where is the child Da Young?”

The guards do not spare them a second glance as they walk out into the night lit by cackling fires. The sky has lightened in to the deepest shade of ink from pitch black and stars are waning.   

“Agassi?” Da Young sounds puzzled, but Ha Jin had already found the source of cries and enters another tent where a senior court lady is trying in vain to contain the infant. The woman with lines of patience etched to her face pauses when they enter, her face quite indifferent but for a faint trace of surprise.

“Court lady -”

“Give her to me -” she cuts off her words, knowing she was about to call her by a name of the past. The woman hesitates for a moment.

“My lady I’m under imperial command not to -”

“Imperial command?” the words hang in the air, Da Young shifts uncomfortably beside her. “I am lady Kang and that is my brother’s daughter. What interest does his majesty has on my brother’s child?”

“You are mistaken lady Kang,” the court lady contradicts softly. Mistrust colors her gaze when Ha Jin relieves her from the child although she allows her to do so. The baby, with her wide eyes teary and scrunched up, tries to grip her nose. She shushes it gently, pressing the softness of her face against her pulse, where her heart beat would rock her to sleep. The baby continues to be agitated, fisting and pulling at her hair and starts to suck on her fingertips.

“’Ah -” she murmurs softly. “She is hungry.”

Da Young mutters something incoherent to the court lady, who continues to eye her with suspicion - looking subservient and innocent. The older woman lingers for a moment longer before leaving them with the child and moving out. Da Young watches her with a peculiar expression of her own.

“They’ve recognized her,” she says slowly. “It will do us no good to lie any longer Agassi.”

Ha Jin pauses mid movement of rocking the baby and looks at the young girl who shifts uncomfortably once more as if waiting for her to lash out.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they realize your involvement Agassi, you could still deny any knowledge. The emperor cannot openly question you without admitting he had lost his ward. The Yoo prince would not take it kindly. After all nobody could link you to anything the prince had done unless -”

“Da Young - what are you talking about? This is your sister’s baby!”

“That’s what you made her think - Agassi we both know it is not true.”
”It is not - what - she told me herself - before she died!”

Da Young’s eyes fill with tears as she stretches out an arm to gently tug her sleeve.

“Agassi - have you - have you truly forgotten?” Tears hang from her lashes and her lips tremble. It seems Da young had not believed of the gaps in her memory like Ah Ri had done. Still she speaks slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word. “Agassi - this baby is the emperor’s ward, the prince brought her here. It was you who gave her to Sun Young to keep the matters under wraps. Sun Young grieving the loss of her own baby would naturally fall into delusions - she was ill. Not everything she spoke of is true.”

Her hands shake and she clutches the baby tighter. A fear twists fast around her heart, tightening until she has to gasp for breath. Ha Jin stumbles a step backwards.

“Da Young - no. No. It cannot be!”

Had she lied to a dying woman and made her believe another’s child was hers, just to cover up her own crime? And this baby - this baby -

Suddenly she feels too afraid to look at her. The eyes that had seemed too large in a bony face - suddenly seems familiar. Scrunched up in to half moons as she whines for attention. Their gleam is gone. So is the pink of her cheeks. She is too light in her arms and too far behind in her growth, gaunt in a manner only a motherless child would be.

Dear lord - what has she done?

“This baby,” she feels cold and her words stutter. Unconsciously, she holds the child even tighter, against her heart that is wrenching in agony. “This baby is the emperor’s niece?”

“Have you remembered Agassi?”

An anguish filled exhale rattles her frame.

“What happened to the prince - her father? Why would she be the emperor’s ward?”

Da Young’s shoulders slump as hope leaves her frame. Still she answers in a low tone reserved only for her ears.

“Obviously she is a hostage - the emperor could be cruel like that. He controls his brothers by holding what is dear to them. Why else would the Yoo armies heed the emperor’s call - it is because -”

Armies - hostage - cruel. Words reel in her head and her lungs burn. Cruel. Cruel. Cruel.

What have you turned into So?

“Cousin?” As if conjured from the anguish of her thoughts the emperor walks in, followed closely by the court lady who had left before, and his own entourage of guards. “Why do I always find you in places you do not belong in?”

She does not dare to look at him, for her eyes are burning with unshed acid. She does not dare speak for Ha Jin knows not what she might end up saying. Only, she clutches the baby tighter as if to shield her from the eyes of the emperor. Her mind is still whirling, consumed with rage and pain that simmers unable to vent out. She is malnourished - she is older than she looks. An year - is that how long has passed since I’ve gone. What have you become in an year - what have you become to your own blood?

If he had noticed her silent rage, he does not comment. Instead the emperor reaches out and strokes face of the child with a finger, before Ha Jin could step away - pull the child farthest from his reach, the infant grabs his finger and puts it in her mouth.

He looks mildly amused, and she despises her own heart that deceives her into seeing the warmth in his eyes. A lie - she repeats in her thoughts - a lie. You have changed. You are no longer the man I loved. It burns her heart, for she had dreamed of various alternatives where he cuddles his baby but none so tasteless - so cold. Everything seems like a deceit.

Hostage. Army. Cruel.

She pulls the child away and speaks tasteless words.

“Forgive her, your majesty. She is too young to realize who you are.”

A monster. Is that what you’ve turned into?

“It sounds as if you have a very clear opinion on my identity,” he might no longer be the man she knew, but he reads her effortlessly. “Enlighten me - cousin.”

“I am too ignorant to attempt -”

“Very humble of you. But I would like to hear what it is that you have just swallowed rather bitterly.” He strokes the fire that threatens to burn the last strands of her control. Her eyes flicker, still burning into his.

“Your majesty is our ruler; the son of heavens,” she holds his gaze that bores into hers, and something snaps inside her. “We are but pawns to your will.”

A collective gasp sucks the air out of the room and Da Young falls to her knees, forehead pressed to the cold hard earth.

“Peyha - forgive my lady, she did not mean any offence.”

“Your lady can very well speak for herself,” he sounds as indifferent as ever. “Is there anything more you’d like to add to it - cousin?”

“Please my lady -” urges Da Young. “Explain you did not mean it. My lady!”

“She is an infant -” her voice trembles. “She knows nothing. From someone with your majesty’s experience - for someone who knows what it is to grow up a pawn - I would never have imagined such cruelty.”

“Oh - I’m sure you know quite well how cruel I am - cousin. Did your prince mention how I had poisoned my own son?”

Her inhale is harsh and it burns in her windpipe.

“Yes -” the emperor hisses. “And to uphold my own good name I’ve executed your beloved brother for it - hmm? That is not all I’ve done. Perhaps - your prince was abiding by the call of greater good when he abducted my niece. Is that what you are taught in these mountains? At least I did not try to kill an infant - perhaps - your wise old father has his own reasons for attempting that - huh? Should I ask him? Or do you think it was I that starved her - is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of your majesty!” She cries in despair. “I don’t know - anymore. Your majesty is no longer the man I knew.” The man I loved.

He steps closer to her and stares down at her for a moment longer. His eyes trail slowly over her flushed cheeks, her frame heaving for breath, and rests at her burning eyes.

“You never knew me to begin with, cousin.” He says finally, before snatching the baby off her hold. “You have no right to touch the emperor’s ward.”

“Please -”

A hurried footfall drowns out her words.

“Lord Kang is ready to depart your majesty,” announces the guard that marches in. She barely registers his words, instead her arms remain stretched out to reach the baby.

“Please -” she mutters again, hot tears draining down her face.

“Good bye cousin,” he says coldly. “We shall be seeing each other soon.”

**

“Agassi…” Da Young tries to sooth, her small hand rubbing her back. “Please cry no more! You can hardly breathe.”

“Why is he so cruel?” She chokes on her words, pressing a fist against quavering lips. “How can he be so cruel? Who poisons their own child? Who would -”

“His majesty is distrustful of everyone - he is a cruel man. It should not surprise Agassi. This is why I suggested -”

Her words are cut off when the sedan bumps, Da Young who is walking beside her, with a hand holding hers, has to stop until the men who carry her regain their balance.

“Why I suggested you to go to the prince. Alas - it is not possible anymore. The lord has given his word. Agassi would receive the imperial decree for marriage soon. It is not a fate anyone deserves…” Her words trail off full of sorrow. “He is incapable of love. The empress herself lives a bane of a life - mistreated, mistrusted, with a sickly heir.”

Da Young shifts again noticing Ha Jin’s eyes on her.  

“It is not only the Kangs that are being punished Agassi - the Yoos are no better. He hates his own brother over the late lady Hae.”

Something pricks under her skin.

“Lady Hae?”

“She escaped his clutches didn’t she?” Da Young continues, prompted by her interest. “He couldn’t stop her - I don’t think it sat well with the emperor. I’m sure he considers it a stain on his honor - that a woman -”

“Da Young!” The tenor of her own voice scares her. But suddenly, her perspective shifts.

“The emperor did not force lady Hae. She was never held against her will -”

“What do you know of it Agassi? She never loved him - the prince -”

“The prince lied.” She rubs her throat trying to ease her breathing. “Your prince lied. And the emperor is right - whatever his schemes for his niece are - it is us that almost killed her. How long was she here Da Young? How long was she with your sister?”

What have I done? For a sin I am partly to blame for - did I condemn him thoughtlessly? He doesn’t know - her breath hitches - he has no idea. It will kill him if he finds out. So would never - how could I believe that of him?

Da young never replies, instead her eyes widen and she screams. Tearing the night and shattering the soft sounds of their own trail through the thick snow - horsemen appear, wearing the robes of night and anonymity.

Blades wave, sharp and silver and blood flows in streams.

One of the black clad men reaches out for her and darkness takes her under. She is lifted, tossed and pulled - the fainting stars last of her visions.

Guilt - regret - love - bleed into her thoughts. She should have told him - Ha Jin thinks with the last of her failing conscious - she should have told him. And her lips move in silent prayer.

“So…!”

Notes:

If you've ended up hating So (fine - I did somewhat want that) but it is all a big misunderstanding that he is in no hurry to clear. You'll know in the next chapter.
I'm addicted to posting I guess, couldn't help myself :-) This is split in two, part two I shall post when time permits.
See you soon!

Chapter 9: Betrayal

Summary:

A woman who knows her worth is a dangerous thing.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It is not the man of her dreams that appears behind her closed eyelids, heavy with sleep that she finds it hard to lift them. Jang Mi is uncertain of her own feelings - for the longing has started to feel very much as her own, an ache long settled at the core of her heart - a gap that no other could fill. She doesn’t know him - but at the same time her skin tingles with the memory of his touch, her lips sear with an old kiss. The guilt, the love, the passion - they are not her own, but are as real as the deep rooted affection she feels for the baby she was forced to leave behind.

The numb spark of pain wakes her up and a whine slips from her lips. Her head is splitting and for a moment she sees nothing but the darkness. It comes back slowly, the memories hazy for they were Hae Soo’s - veiled in sleepy confusion, she recalled the riders - the attack - the pain. Her body stiffens on its own, coiling with tension, ready to spring into action. Instinctively, even without opening her eyes she reaches for the knife she usually carry tucked into the folds of her dress - before remembering, where she left it - at the emperor’s compound.

“She is waking up…” someone says, a voice that sounds close enough for her to deduce that the speaker is peering down at her. “Those ruffians could have killed her - no sense of propriety - is that a way to treat a lady?” Da Young she recognizes after a beat.

Her eyes open blearily and she finds that she is indeed right, for Da young sits by her bedside, complaining loudly to an ashen faced woman she did not recognize.

“Where am I?” She sits upright as soon as she gains their attention. Her eyes circle her surrounding - low tent, blowing wind and the woman who bows low - who wears the white and jade green of -

“Hae clan?” She wonders aloud. “Identify yourself!” She addresses the unknown woman. “How dare you drag me - the daughter of Kangs into this - what is this place?”

“Agassi -” Da Young lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jang Mi inhales deeply and rounds on her.

“Since when are you colluding with them?”

“Agassi,” Da young speaks again, her voice deliberately lowered and soothing. “I would not dare. The Haes are friends - they are trying to help.”

“Lady Kang,” the unknown woman chooses that moment to speak, her head still bowed low and her eyes never rising to meet hers. “Lord Hae is an ally of the prince, he is willing to speak with you - if my lady so wishes.”

The two woman watches her with cautious expressions and she feels the tension in their lowered gazes, stiff spines. For a moment she wonders what was the use of pretense for she is certain that the decision has already been made for her. Jang Mi was many things - a fool she was not. For her who was travelling with the entourage of her father to be taken so easily, could it be possible that her father was unaware? Of cause he would swear it to the emperor - but she knows the truth in her heart, he had allowed it to happen - allowed her to be taken. Doesn’t that mean he wishes this to happen? Wishes her to be tossed from side to side in this dangerous game of power he is playing with two dangerous men?

A bitter smile twists her lips. Lord father - she thinks - is this your way of testing me? If so, this daughter will not disappoint. I will not allow you to abandon me to safeguard yourself. 

“Lead the way!” She says, drawing herself up to her full height. Before the exit the tent, into the pale gray of the dawn Da Young offers her the furs. Their weight on her shoulder reminds her of the man who had wrapped her in them - of his cold eyes - of his cruel indifference. She shudders.

The lord of Haes is a cousin of the late lady Hae - whose face she had burrowed. The prince’s first love - or so she was told. Now that lady Hae’s memories had begun to bleed into her conscious she found herself conflicted. She had dared to give up on her very existence to attain this man’s love - yet he had not even trusted her with the entire truth. Am I only a pawn to you too?

The thought feels burdensome that all men in her life wants to play her across the board, dragging her one way or the other as it suited their schemes. She had never felt that before and Jang Mi was not entirely sure if it was her own thought or not. Surely the grief and longing - the part of her that still worries over the baby is not her own, but as the time passed the lines were beginning to blur - she was not certain where her own psyche began or ended.

Hae Hwan rises when she enters. Yet she has eyes only for his battle attire not his polite smile or the kind welcome.

“Lady Kang,” the man is distant yet warm, maintaining the perfect manners as he greets her. There is no hint of recognition at his cousin’s face that she wears.

“Lord Hae, what is the meaning of sending hooligans to abduct me?”

“Abduct - or my dear you are gravely mistaken,” chuckles the man. “The gentlemen I’ve sent to escort you used to be decorated officers of his majesty’s army, and of cause I am merely acting on the expressed wishes of prince Daejong.”

“Prince Daejong?”

There is an unease when the man smiles again.

“Is lady Kang unfamiliar with the new name the prince has taken? It is the name in which the north would crown him.”

For the time being she pardons that little secret, for her heart is beating wildly in fear for the man who dares to chose himself a reign name when the emperor is still very much in power.

“Those were military men?”

“Of cause they would die for the prince’s cause.” Assures Lord Hae, “they would die for the man who would reclaim their rightful positions that had been snatched from them. It is time that the wolf that calls himself a dragon learns that Haes would not be crushed so easily - their roots run deep. It is not an easy task to uproot the house of Hae, not when his own blood is mixed with ours… Lady Kang we would make saffe passage for you to go to him - before the day is done.”

Fool - oh fool! She thinks with a sinking heart, tears prick at her eyes. For all the bitterness she had held against him, So was trying to distance the child from the fate of her disgraced clan. She had indeed been a fool who had forgotten the times they lived in.

“You speak of the emperor’s niece?” She manages to hold her tone and look at the man in his eye. “Isn’t she a member of Chungju Yoo?”

The gleam in the man’s eye tells her she has miscalculated something. He pours her tea and subtly shakes his head. His voice is lowered as if speaking of something rather scandalous as he replies.

“The emperor never sanctioned a marriage between his brother and my late cousin. The previous king’s decree is one thing - it is always an imperial edict that sanctions a marriage of a prince.” The porcelain tinkles when he offers her a cup. “It was his subtle way of extracting revenge - for my cousin would never be the official wife of the prince - without his expressed permission - and her child - her child would take our clan name, instead of her father’s.”

“You tell me he is a man of grudges…”

“He is - look how he still seeks to punish the Haes for the audacity of a woman long gone. Our dealings with Khitan could not have harmed goreyo the least - still…” The man trails off meaningfully. “We are branded traitors - stripped from positions - no emperor had ever dared to look down upon our illustrious clan.”

“Lord Hae -” she rises as she speaks, her mind already made and her heart already burning. It was typical of her father to make her choose between life and love - of the two men who ruled her life. She could of cause take lord Hae on his word and go to her prince. But he would assist her in the hopes of taking her father’s army - there was no army left to give. Despair devours her. Was that all she was worth - a few hundred men? “Allow me to go back to my father -”

“Lady Kang - the prince -”

“The prince is far away, I must shelter my clan from the storm that is nearer.”

“But my lady -”

“What do you think the emperor would do to my people when he finds out that I have eloped with his brother - if he is indeed a man as cruel as you speak of, who holds a grudge against generations for a woman long gone - what would happen of my father?”

“I give you my word lady Kang - he will never be able to touch your family, with the help of your father’s forces and the prince’s army we will vanquish him.”

“Do it -” she tells him, unmoved at the face of his earnestness. “Then we shall talk lord Hae - but do help me return home as of now.”

There is a pause and the man sighs after a moment.

“It is your father’s fortune to have a daughter as loyal as you are Lady Kang - give him my greetings.”

He gives swift orders to his men to prepare for her journey, though it is not in the direction that he had hoped. She bids him farewell and allows Da Young to fall into steps behind her. Still her shoulders stiffen when the young woman places a hand on her shoulder.

Now I know where your loyalties lie - it was you who reports on my moves Da Young - it is you who made them want to test me… she thinks as she walks.

Hae Hwan watch her leave, his eyes narrowed.

“What are your orders my lord?” Asks the man beside him.

“Kill her.” He says dismissively. “If she is of no use to our cause she must not aid the enemy either. The emperor must not tie familial ties with the Kangs.”

Outside - allowing one of the men to help her into a horse, Jang Mi shudders at how cold her own thoughts are. Slaughter - she knows - that is what she is ridding towards. But then again it is the test her father wishes to set her - if she is indeed Jang Mi these men would not manage to touch a hair on her head. And if not - well, he has no further use of an enchantment gone wrong.

Discreetly, she wipes off an icy drop that dangles from her lashes. The man she had chosen to fight her father for has already condemned her to death - without a thought of remorse. There is only so much the emperor could do and she was certain, killing her was not one of his intentions.

Forgive me love - she thinks, bitterly. For the person I love most in this world is myself and I shall live, one way or the other.

**

 

Notes:

I can't believe I gave Jang Mi an entire chapter - but girl! She never disappoints me. I'm sure the chapter wasn't all that interesting since it was mostly conversational - still it is much needed groundwork on plot as well as lady Kang. What do you think of her - care to share your thoughts? :-)

Chapter 10: Unveiled

Summary:

Truth - sweet and bitter

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Three needles pined into her collar is all that she has. Jang Mi eyes the men that are supposedly escorting her to safety, judging the bulging weight of weapons that they carry. A short sword - a dagger - a carving knife; she can imagine the orders Lord Hae might have parted with, their motive is not just to kill but destroy - her beauty, reputation and chances of being a queen. She postpones worrying on that account, for a woman taken by bandits as the world would know it by now - is no candidate for the inner palace. It is her father again, forcing the hand of the emperor - his ambitions for her are always placed in the unassuming insignificance of a court lady.

Snow crunch under the hooves, and the naked branches of the first tree line looms closer. Frosty air burns in her lungs and she notices the leer with which the men eye her, from corners of their crooked eyes. Their route is well thought - to suit their sinister motives. It is the same that she takes advantage of. The path narrows, forcing them to flank around her. Then narrows further, forcing the two men in front to take lead. Another man rides by her side and another a pace behind.

She acts then.

The three needles barely cause a flash of silver as they sink into the pressure points of the man beside her. Three in quick succession forms a line down his spine. The moment his arm loses its grip, she snatches his sword and plunges it into the man behind her. The rough, ripples hands grab her shoulders as the man groans in pain and drags her down her agitated mount.

The fuss of the horses alert the two men in front just as the blanket of snow over the leaves of fall, makes a soft landing. Cold is a whip against her cheek yet she springs back to her feet, pulling free the bloody blade with a stream of sticky red. In the meantime the two men had closed in and from the stillness of the frozen woods, more footsteps start to beat.

The men chuckle at her sudden immobility.

“We come prepared - lady Kang,” says one of them - unsheathing a carved dagger. There is a sinister gleam in his eyes. More numbers appear from the gabs between snow leaden trees.

She hits him with her elbow between the gaps of his collarbones, managing to spin away with the blade only gracing her neck. The sting covers the prick at her nape, and it takes her by surprise when she feels it mid movement.

Her legs give out, as weariness takes over - draining them of life, draining her of control over her limbs. She topples over in the snow, taking a blow across her face - feeling the copper of blood against her tongue.

“It is not only you who know their way around wicked needles…” the man she had sank her needles into, stops when he comes close enough to sneer. One last needle of her own three still in his hand. He fiddles it between his fingers before pricking below her ear. “Sleep - in peace!”

**

There is a drum pounding in her ears and she realizes it is her own heart. The blocking of vital energy does not have the desired effect on her - Jang Mi, savors the surprise on the man’s face only for a moment. Still, she is very much immobile and the man kicks her ribs to turn her over. Blood from the broad sword in his hand drips on her throat and trickles down.

The sound of snow crunching under feet is louder and she feels the vibrations of many people approaching. The man compared to his dirty teethed, rough companions has an appearance of an elite. An official - or - she recalls the fluency with which he handled the needles - a physician.

The man beside him looks around in alarm and the man waves a hand in dismissal.

“They are with us -” he reminds loftily.

“But the girl is ours -” the other supplies covetously.     

“The corpse should be recognizable -” he says thoughtfully, moving the blade away from her face, she stares at him until her eyes start to burn. “They said nothing else -”

The man rises the blade and lowers it against her throat -

“If you are thinking of begging for mercy - now is a good time, lady Kang - perhaps we could reach some sort off understanding…” his voice is full of dark suggestions and she would have strangled him had her body allowed. Instead she watches the man, imagining all sorts of gruesome endings to his worthless life when he raises the blade again- it doesn’t matter if the caress had drawn blood.

“No ? How unfortunate…”

The man splatters blood before his words are trailed off - and his sword sinks into the ground to break his fall, he falls nevertheless, with an arrow sticking from his back. His companions are less fortunate for arrows in quick succession finds perch on their unsuspecting bodies. The men break into the clearing, foes instead of friends her fiends had been expecting. To her wonder though - they wear the colors of Haes.

Jang Mi coughs as the effect of the needle begins to wear off, the clotted blood tearing free from her airway. She pushes the man that had fallen over her, but finds unable to pick up herself.

Instead someone grabs her shoulder.

“Allow me -” says the stranger.

He helps her to her feet, with a hand around her waist, his gaze however resolutely avoiding her eyes. Her legs wobble - lifeless - limp. The man continues to support her leaving his men to deal with the aftermath of the assailants.

She tries to struggle off her hold, unsure of the intentions of his intervention. The man, proves to be more powerful than she is. His face is battle hardened, his skin weather worn, there is something familiar about his face.

Jang Mi gasps.

“You - you - you are -”

“We are not very far - let me take you to the emperor.” He says and adds after a thought. “My lady.”

“Fourteenth Prince?”

**

He tries to carry her, without a word. But Jang Mi’s dignity would not allow such helplessness, instead she leans on his support and walks by herself - pain-striking though it is. Among her overlapping memories Jang Mi tries to understand when the juvenile Jung of lady Hae’s thoughts had grown into a double edged sword. She is not naive enough to believe that the two brothers would have reconciled, no word of such has ever reached them. But as she watches the hard lines of the man’s determined face - she begins to appreciate the brilliance of her monarch’s scheming. Her prince would never see this coming. This betrayal would catch him unaware. He has so much of his hopes pinned on the bitterness between these two full brothers.

What he knows not is how deep the link that binds them together runs. Her prince - always fails to appreciate the depth emotions drive men, he has never realized the true value of the child he had stolen from safety.

Loyalties of the fourteenth prince would never waver, not unless they hold his daughter at their power. They do not. Not anymore.

Darkness rolls at the corners of her vision, when they meet Chun at the entrance to the camp. There is a hard look in his face but he greets the prince with reverence.

“His majesty is livid,” he says simply. Prince Jung nods grimly and allows Chun to lead them in his arm around her still supporting her to move. They merely take few paces when she sees him and breath hitches in her throat.

The emperor has donned his full armor, with his hair pleated off his face. It highlights the blade like lines of his jaw, and somehow makes him look sinister than usual. Instead of terror that radiates from him, when his gaze sweeps over her, something warm stirs at the pit of her stomach, spreading over until she stumbles over her own wobbling feet. There is an allure to the man’s darkness and Jang Mi is startled out of her trance when his steel clad fingers clasp around her elbow, restoring her balance and at the same time pulling her away from the fourteenth prince.

The emperor does not spare her a glance, though he supports her effortlessly. Instead his eyes remain on his brother.

“Are they dead?”
”All of them,” Jung says simply. “I’ve kept Kim Chul Hyun alive -”

“Good - we have unfinished business.”

He turns away, dismissing the prince with no further words but he calls after.

“Pyeha -” he stops only for a moment. “Can I - May I see -”

“I do not enjoy repeating myself - brother. You know that very well.”

There is no emotion in his voice and Jung says no more. It is when she stumbles again that his eyes drift towards her.

“Where is your slave?”

Da Young - she has not thought of her since. Jang Mi wonders for a moment how deep would their betrayal run. Was it Da Young who told them to take her down with her own needles? Or was it the prince himself? It is in the moment of confusion as her thoughts run back and forth that the emperor lifts her into his arms. This time Chun does not protest as he carries her inside - nor does he follow.

The stings of cuts against her skin starts to make themselves known once she is settled down into the quietness of the emperor’s compound. Jang Mi rubs a hand against the blood caked on her throat as she gulps.

“What happened to my father?”

“He is injured.” The emperor replies stiffly and turns to look at her. “I will send lady Noh to help you with dressing your wounds - rest well, cousin.”

“Your majesty -” she calls after him, causing him to pause at the entrance of the tent. “The fourteenth prince - he saved my life. As a token of gratitude I beseech on his behalf. Please allow him to visit his daughter.”

She gets to her feet rather unsteadily, watching him with cautious eyes. He almost makes a move to reach her but holds himself at the last moment.

“And what shall we do to the man who put you in such danger?” He asks in turn, rather softly. She would have pretended to be ignorant but the visions are too raw in her mind. The reminder makes her stumble and claw at her throat. “What shall we do to the men who dared to touch you?”

“Nothing happened -” She speaks tasteless words, knowing full well they are of no effect. She chokes on her own words, crushed under the schemes of her father, who would push her into a corner like this simply to achieve his own ends.

“Sit down -” she realizes only when he speaks that he had moved closer, one of his hands resting on her shoulder. He pushes her gently into complying and takes off his heavy armor. It seems like a replay of an earlier hazy event, when the warm wet cloth presses against the stinging cut at her throat.  

“I can give you that medication again - it might help to sleep it off.” He says as he cleans the cut, and dabs away the excess water. “But it won’t take away the pain - nor the memories. Nor their faces.”

She grabs his wrist, forcefully, gritting her teeth.

“They did not touch me.”

He watches her in silence for a moment and in that moment she is aware of how unruly her appearance must be, with her disheveled hair and torn clothes. Although the prince had come just in time, it does not mean that the men who held her at their mercy had been in any way honorable. The prince had planned this - her prince. Her father had wanted this. And tears prick at the back of her eyes - at how powerless she feels against their scheming.

“It is none of your fault even if they did.”

And suddenly, it dawns upon her, as to why he had been so meticulous about leaving none alive.

“Your majesty -” she speaks slowly. “Still wishes to marry me?”

The warmth that had stirred within her begins to grow, rapidly and powerfully.

“It doesn’t matter to me, cousin - it makes me no better man, that I know what it means to be a pawn.” He tells her, as he dresses the cut on her throat. His rough fingers leaving tingling sensation on her skin. “Don’t for a moment deceive yourself into thinking that. I am far worse than you can begin to imagine.”

In the pause his words leave, he stands up once more.

“Lady Noh will attend to you.”

 

Notes:

Not much happenings here as this is the left over of the last chapter. I'll see you soon, with a fresh update! Hope you had a fun read nevertheless. :-)

Chapter 11: crack in the wall

Summary:

Sunlight creeps in from a tiny crack in the wall.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A pawn’s pawn - Ha Jin thinks as the last tendrils of lady Kang’s control dissolve from her thoughts. That was what she has become. Gone is her illusion of control for she now knows she is but a puppet - with her strings firmly held in the hands of another woman who chooses when to take over and when to allow her free rein. To think that she would take her away from So was to delude herself. Instead she had been helping her to break through the walls So had put up around himself. Lady Kang was simply indulging her, in her own ploy of survival.

It feels like waking up from a long dream after struggling to crack open her eyes - and the memories of the events lady Kang had gone through are not lost on her. Ha Jin learns one thing about her puppet master, no matter how shrewdly she tries to conceal her own psyche from merging with hers - it is her will to survive. Her emotions seep into the fabric of Lady Kang’s conscious with ease of dye on canvas for she has never allowed herself to feel.

She pities the lady Kang and she fears her. She fears what a woman raised like a weapon could do - for a blade would cut ultimately, no matter how shiny or elegant it is made. At the moment the lady of Kangs is a blade without a master.

There is no stopping of the wedding.

But perhaps Ha Jin could still block her paths leading to So - it is the last she could do to save him. What brings them closer is the traces of Hae Soo that he finds in her - as long as she makes sure there is none - lady Kang would not get closer enough to pose a threat.

She resolves to consider it a redemption - resolves to a life devoted but devoid of him. He must live - it is all that matters.

The court lady Noh - turns out to be the older woman in charge of her child. From her time as Hae Soo, Ha Jin is not familiar with her. The woman has sharp yet cool eyes, and a thin mouth pressed into indifference. She allows her to her own thoughts as she helps to dry her hair. Her hands are rough for a inner palace worker and Ha Jin wonders briefly if the guise of a high rank female official was just that - a guise. Could it be that the emperor had placed a spy by her side?

“Your hair is elegant - lady Kang,” she speaks in the end, combing through the thick tresses of midnight. Ha Jin watches the light shift though the sleek locks and conjures a smile - trying to retain doubts that are not her own. She knows the unease of this discovery is not her own, still it sticks to her like a second skin, uncomfortable but unable to peel off.

“Thank you, court lady Noh,” she smiles softly. “Which palace do you originally work for?”

Lady Noh’s hands never stop, braiding and piling sections of her hair in to a half updo.

“I’m assigned to his majesty’s personal retinue.”

Where did she come from - Ha Jin wonders but do not ask. It is a question she cannot ask without arousing suspicions for a girl from mountains has no means of knowing she is an unfamiliar face. Lady Noh had barely finished adjusting her hair when another - younger and junior court lady bustles in, the wailing baby in her arms.

“Apologies your ladyship - court lady Noh - I tried - I really did. But you know she dislikes strangers and it’s been a long time -”

Lady Noh shakes her head with a look of warning flashing in her eyes. But Ha Jin is already on her feet, reaching out for the child - who willingly though agitated snuggles against her bosom.

“Strangers?” She addresses the young woman.

“Lady Seol hasn’t been in company of the fourteenth prince for a long time,” court Lady Noh answers cautiously. “Babies have little memory.” When Ha Jin turns to her, cuddling the child - who was now calmer - she finds the sharp eyes watching her with amusement.

“Have you raised any siblings - my lady?”

It is her familiarity with the child that surprises her, Ha Jin chooses not to reply and asks instead.

“How old is she - Seol - you said?”

She wonders if it was a name Jung had chosen. For she had not made it up to her baby’s naming day - but it warms her heart nevertheless. Seol - her flake of snow.

“This is her tenth month,” lady Noh reaches out, trying to coax the baby to come to her arms instead. The child clutches to Ha Jin, pulling at her collar and starting to suck on her blouse. “And she is not feeling like being a lady at all today - hmm?” She asks Seol in a tender tone. “My lady give her to me - she is ruining your dress.”

“It is of no matter -” Ha Jin chuckles, genuinely this time. Seol’s cheeks are fuller from the last she had seen, she thinks as she strokes their softness. “I’m not much of a lady myself - today. We shall be wild things instead - ah Seolie - would you like that?”

Seol looks at her, with eyes so much like her father’s and her mouth half open, staring transfixed as she laughed.

“Lady Kang - the fourteenth prince wishes to speak to you before he departs,” the junior court lady addresses her. Lady Noh shifts closer and places a hand on Seol’s back.

“His highness must want to thank you for speaking to his majesty, you should go - my lady.”

Ha Jin looks down at the child, with her tiny head pressed to the softness of her bosom and pauses.

“Can I take her?”

“My lady -”

“You may come with me,” she doesn’t allow lady Noh to protest. “I give you permission to attack me if I pose any danger to the emperor’s ward.”

“But my lady his majesty has been very -” Lady Noh pauses as her eyes drift down to the child watching how her eyelids begin to droop as Ha Jin bounces her lightly. There is something about this young woman that she cannot pinpoint which pulls the child in, and at the same time which makes her warmer towards her. Lady Noh cannot find heart to pull them apart.

“Let me accompany you - my lady.”

Even though she allows her heart small victories over her rational mind, lady Noh never forgets her priorities - or the words of her monarch. One scratch on her - he had said. One - you will answer with your life.

She feels the steel of her concealed weapon and signals the junior court lady Han - Eun Mi to follow. They exit together, Lady Kang carrying the child and the two court ladies a step behind.

Jung watches them arrive and tries to stump on the melancholy rising within him. It seems he is not the only one who finds it hard - exceptionally so - not to find traces of a woman dead and gone. Seol looks so peaceful, he thinks with envy, she has almost forgotten him but had accepted her with open arms.

He tries not to be bitter about it and return her polite smile.

“Your highness.”

“Lady Kang - I stayed behind to express my gratitude and my good wishes. I won’t be able to attend the wedding. If you would allow me I could offer my respects now before leaving.”

“You can’t!” She says quickly, taking a step back. “The imperial decree has not been written yet - I am not yet worthy of such honor.”

Jung watches her with a peculiar expression and his eyes shift to the child.

“You know well to gather allies - lady Kang. I’m sure it will come handy in time to come.”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

Jung smiles at her tact, it is one of his wolfish smiles that makes her recall long lost times. Ha Jin feels her eyes prick a little.

“Let us hope you will never have to find out either. Even if you do - this prince owes you a favor, lady Kang. Never hesitate to call upon it.”

How could I - why would you - she thinks with a heavy heart. Why would you place yourself to be used so easily..

“Thank you - your highness!” She says and she hopes that he hears the weight she places on her words. “Thank you for everything!”

Jung looks at her sheepishly for a moment, unsure what she meant and through his rough exterior she sees a glimpse of the boy he had once been. Seol chooses the moment to lean over and pull at one of the many tiny plaits in his hair. She laughs, pulling at it with wonder. Jung joins in, before bending down to meet her eye.

“Are we friends again?”

“Weren’t you always?” Ha Jin chuckles.

“No -” grins Jung. “This lady here is holding a grudge for leaving her behind. We are currently having peace discussions right Seolie?”

The baby babbles and claps her hands, still clutching at his hair.

“It’s a beautiful name,” she tells him slowly. “Seol…”

Jung straightens up, a shadow crossing his face.

“Imperial older brother named her,” he says gruffly then catching that she had seen his momentary expression tries in vain to smile. “It is a great honor.”

Her heart tightens at his words and he misreads her expression. Unconsciously her hold on Seol tightens. He named her - So had named her. Does that mean - that he - perhaps he - knows?

**

Without context they make a picture against the snow covered backdrop. Light flakes swirl in the air as the man and the woman share a smile, their words hushed as she bounces the child as a reflex and he allows the baby to play with his hair. Across the yard he feels cold biting against his heart.

“Your majesty?”

Hastily So tears his gaze away, biting the inside of his cheek. Recoiling as he realizes what his feelings had been a moment ago.

“Did he talk?” He asks instead, fixing his gaze upon Chun, who watches him with a curious look. They start to walk away at the same time.

“Nothing of substance,” replies Chun, hurrying to keep up with his pace. “He is well versed in medicine and knows how to block pain - most of the torture techniques are lost on him.”

“Is that so?” He says slowly, lips pursed. Chun glances at him worriedly, noticing the vein that pulses at his temple. He did not enjoy it when his monarch works himself into a temper. Particularly these moments that felt like the calm before the storm.

“Perhaps - we need to get reacquainted.”

“Your majesty -”

So speaks no more, instead he turns and stares at Chun coldly, jaw clenched and hands clasped behind his back. Chun swallows.

“Right away - your majesty.”

“Very well - and Chun - ah,” the emperor adds as he walks away. “Tell the fourteenth prince to return to his position before he is missed. I don’t want Haes learning anything is amiss.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Temperature is dropping - see if princess Seol is warm enough.”

A slow smile curls Chun’s mouth as he watches the black clad figure that walks away.

“Of cause - your majesty.” He mutters, turning back to glance at the fourteenth prince and lady Kang. “Of cause.”

Notes:

In this universe Soo had died soon after Seol was born - like real soon.
Again a split chapter - I kept the darker part away from this sweet one. See you again soon! :-)

Chapter 12: Ruins of fallen

Summary:

The world crumbles around them

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Pity - you are beginning to lose my interest…” there is a no mistake of the murderous tenor to his tone, but it comes in the veiled insult of a soft lazy drawl.

One man is sprawled in the dirty snow, his fresh injuries distinct even in the limited light of torches. He heaves for breath, from effort lost in a pointless battle as the other man crushes his heel further into his ribcage. Pain - burns in his lungs and clouds his eyes.

“You do not need me to tell what it means for you…” The emperor seethes as he takes a step back, and folds his arms across his chest. A faint sheen of sweat makes him glow ghostly in the torchlight and his eyes are hard, dark and unamused.

There are no bindings that keeps the man in place. Of cause they had been fighting a moment before - Kim Chul Hyun thinks of a spider playing with his food - giving it the delusion of a last chance to fight for life. But he knows better - there is no blocking of pain when one is moving, for there is no numbing of his senses if he needed that to attack and dodge making his greatest skill invalid in front of his greatest enemy. The emperor was nothing if not a cold blooded killer.

A sneer curls his lips revealing blood stained teeth.

“You will die soon…” he takes satisfaction in uttering those words. “Soon everything will return to its rightful place…” His puffy eyes travel the parameter of his vision, watching what kind of an effect his words had on the people who were watching the spectacle of his death.

There are shadows in the eyes of the men watching, but he cannot be certain if they are of fear and doubt. Behind the emperor stands Chun, with his lips pressed into a straight line - hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. Only too eager to step up and finish the job his master has started.

“What makes you think that frightens me?” The emperor is unmoved as he watches the effect of his earlier strike bring blood up to clog his throat. The anger that radiates from him is as cold as the snow under the injured man. “Is it because you think you and I are alike? Do you feel it now Chul Hyun? Do you feel fear?”

There is a crack of breaking bone when he is kicked again and the man wheezes - splattering blood.

“Where is the map?” The emperor asks slowly and the man continues to wheeze, curling and twitching as he watches with darting eyes. “Why don’t we talk about that?”

“Wouldn’t you ask me for an antidote? Aren’t you worried for your own life - ” A dark chuckle escapes his mouth. “What - afraid your men will hear? They will know?” He raises his voice, blood dripping from his mouth in thick streams. “Your emperor is -”

The emperor crouches down and grabs his neck, fingers digging against his windpipe. He chokes on his words and stares at the blood drenched face of his death, its beauty marred by an ancient knife stroke.

“Kill me and you will never know who spies for me here…” he wheezes out.

The emperor grins in reply, in a deranged and wicked way.

“Does that matter? With you gone - strings of the puppet will be cut. I want them to hear” He hisses in the man’s ear. “I want them to see - how traitors will be dealt with. Perhaps your spy here will relay the information to your prince?”

“My prince will kill you!” The emperor actually laughs at that, laughs as he pushes the man further towards death - his eyes never waver from his face. “He - will - kill …” dark spots dance across his vision and he falls back in snow.

“No you won’t!” Snaps the emperor. “You will stay awake for this… What do you think - right place? Your prince’s right place is on the throne? Where is your right place Chul Hyun?”

“He will be a far great ruler -”

“You believe that? You believe your prince and his handful of traitors will do that?” Twisting the man’s arm, he allows the bone to feel pressure to its threshold before cracking. The man howls in pain. “I am the master of hawks, you think there’s a place I don’t have eyes in? After so many years as a rat do you think they are only a handful? How long do you think it’ll take your prince to kill each - You think I do not know what your prince is doing right now? What Chul Hyun - is he so afraid that he needs to send poison before he meets me in battle?”

“Afraid?” coughs the man. “Afraid of an heir - less,pretender who stole his throne?”

There is a pause and the man sneers. “Yes… why don’t we talk about it - the so called crown prince - he won’t make it - there is nothing under the heaven that could stop….”

The emperor leaves him, twitching on the ground and stands up. His eyes briefly rests on Chun.

“Dispose of him.”

**

Court lady Noh watch with disapproving eyes as Ha Jin finishes changing Seol into her sleeping garments. They had surely spent far too much time playing in the bath than in the old lady’s protocol. Still the baby was in high spirits, gargling and laughing as the lady tickled her belly. Lady Noh was in no doubt the lady intended to keep her over for the night - her shoulders slumped with exhaustion when she imagined the argument approaching.  

She doesn’t even ask, instead carries the baby into her own makeshift bed.

“You know Seolie a long time ago there was another girl named after Snow - would you like to hear her story?”

The baby yawns, waving her hand and trying to catch her nose. Ha Jin kisses her palm and nuzzles against her tummy, blowing air, making the baby laugh.

“Lady Kang -” Court lady Noh starts, in a soft but firm tone only to get thoroughly ignored instead she begins to sing softly, patting Seol as she does. It is a song court lady Noh has never heard before - unfamiliar yet soothing in words that makes no sense.

The baby yawns again - her eyes drooping and Ha Jin smiles as she sings one of the old rhymes her mother had sung for her. It feels like a dream come through for a moment that she does not care what lady Noh thinks about singing foreign songs.

“Agassi -” lady Noh stops abruptly and instead draws in a rattled breath. “Your majesty!”

The tenor of her tone makes Ha Jin jerk stopping mid stanza to look up and the chill settles in with an old sense of foreboding. She scrumble to her feet, gathering the child as she goes, holding her tiny face buried in her neck so that she would not see.

He is drenched in blood.

“Soo yah -” although he makes no sound she reads it on his lips.

And there is that lost look in his eyes. Her heart aches as she reaches closer and he stumbles on his feet. Ha Jin does not need a reminder to know that someone had died at his hands. It is written all over him - written in blood.

“Court lady Noh - you can put her to sleep. I will attend his majesty.”

 The old woman looks at her in astonishment only to find her eyes locked with the emperor, she does not move her gaze as she shifts the child. No one moves for another moment.

“My lady you can’t -” Begins the old woman. She doesn’t want to think of the scandal.

“Take her away!” The authority in her voice makes her shiver inwardly, lady Noh however speaks no more as she takes the child. Seol protests sleepily, but complies anyway, lady Noh scatters away, swinging her a bit, lulling her back to drowsiness.

“Your majesty -” she turns back to him after a brief glance spared to watch them leave. He is still watching her with that strange expression. It’s the song - she realizes a heartbeat too late - he recognized the song. He staggers closer, still holding her gaze.

“Your majesty - I -”

He collapses, his head on her shoulder. Her arms come up automatically, holding him as they both stagger backwards. His grip on her is painful, his breath burns her neck.

“So?”

“Could you not bear to have her with me for a minute…” he rasps, his breath smells of wine and blood. “Am I that repulsive?”

“You are drunk - and hurt,” she settles him on her pillows. He holds her when she tries to move away.

“Soo - yah…”

It is not his grip that stops her, it is the agony in his voice. She places a cold hand on his burning forehead and peers down at him.

“Did you pull at your stitches?” Worry color her tone. “You are bleeding again!”

“Doesn’t matter…” he slurs.

“Foolish man!” She bites out, slapping away his hand and standing up to fetch some supplies to redress his wound.

His eyes are closed when she returns and she thinks he had fallen asleep. It is a wonder the pain allows him that she makes effort not to make a sound as she settles beside him and gently unties his robe to reach the injury.

He grips her wrist as soon as he feels the first searing touch.

“You are right - you were right…”

She holds his hand down and continues with what she had b5een doing. The blood frightens her and she would not dwindle on it. Ha Jin did not want to think of losing him again.

“I can never be a good father - never -”

She wipes matted hair off his forehead and allows her touch to linger.

“Hyohwa is dying...and I cannot save him. It was meant for me - it was meant for me.”

“So -” she mutters, holding him close, clueless how to sooth him. He allows her, in a briefest moments of weakness, snuggles closer. “Your majesty -”

“Don’t call me that…” he murmurs against her neck. “It’s cursed. I’m cursed. I killed my son!”

“’It’s not your fault -” she hushes, rubbing his back. “Not your fault.”

“And I killed the only man who could have saved him - I killed him just now.”

Hot tears hang from her lashes and she buries her face against his shoulder. She thinks of a bleeding sunset, when he believed he had killed Yo, and feels pain coiling around her soul all the same. There was too much venom - there had always been.

“I couldn’t let him go - so many would die… but for that I fed a child poison from my own bowl…”

As he slurs into sleep, meaning of his words starts to dawn her. “It was meant for me… poison from my own bowl… Did he tell you - that I poisoned my own son?  Hyohwa is dying…”

Meant for him - it was meant for him. The blood thinners - the death they had planned for him. The little prince was merely a casualty in a hunt for a bigger prey.

“Oh So…” she mutters to herself. “Is this what I left you for?”

Notes:

This chapter left me exhausted I donno why.
You'll find prince Hyohwa in Wikipedia, but I've only taken the name. :-) Ju is not born in this universe - not yet. I have different plans for him.
See you again soon!

Chapter 13: End of path

Summary:

It is a betrayal she is yet to comprehend

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Soo - yah,” he murmurs, seeking for her in the darkest depths of his dreams. The hand that she takes his pulse from, clasps hers, fingers digging into her supple skin. He remembers it as if a dream of its own, her breath on his skin - the faintest touch of her lips. A sting on raw skin, a brush of a hand and distant whispers of forgotten vows. The pain drowns it all and desperation conquers him.

He needs her.

It is the truth, in its ugliest form. He had never buried her and still carried his love, like a wound that was yet to heal and instead pierces his very soul from within. There could never be another woman. The curse of loneliness takes him down, in spite of his own judgment - he gives into that beloved voice assuring him he had no fault, gives into her homely embrace, and allows himself to fall into what must have been a sweet deception.

He is tired of reminding himself that she is gone.

“I’m here…” she says instead. “I won’t leave. And you can’t leave me either - I won’t allow it…”

He wonders if she knows what her loss had made of him. Those months of maddening grief had almost cost him his life and everything he had worked for. It was then the traitors had gathered their forces while he was blind to all but his own pain.Her fingers rake through his hair, massaging his scalp, muttering soft, low words lost on him. For a moment it feels warm and the bitter separation had never happened and she was still there, soothing him after a terrible nightmare.

Then it comes back in a punishingly swift blow. He pushes her away recoiling at his own powerlessness. It is Yeon Hwa all over again, wearing a mask over her face as well as her intentions, trying to lure him into believing she is the woman he loved. And in those disgustingly bleak moments he does - almost.

His touch remains branded on her skin even after he had forcefully removed her. Ha Jin stumbles back and blinks furiously against the rejection that brims in her eyes, pricking and burning like acid. The thought that simmers, stark against her conscious is not her own.

He was led to kill her brother… As lady Kang despairs Ha Jin tastes the betrayal in her mouth. They had lied to her - they had deceived her. Her brother was led to his death by someone else. All those months, keeping her hatred brewing, she had believed the emperor had wanted his own son dead. But - her eyes darts back to the broken man - she was misled. The person who had poisoned the emperor had poisoned the child - prince. Traitors - traitors and lies, she feels like drowning.

Ha Jin had barely collected herself when Chun barges in, sword unsheathed and pointed at her. For a moment she expects him to run her through, but then he retains himself and stills, staring at her, eyes wide.

“Lady Kang - his majesty -” his eyes shift and finds the emperor.

“You need to call the physician,” Ha Jin tells him. “His wound has reopened, he needs help -” as she talks she notices the color leaving Chun’s face. “There is a physician right? Lord Chun? This camp has a physician right?”

He drops his gaze and nods stiffly.

“I cannot call him.”

“Why - you -”

“I’m under imperial command lady Kang. His majesty’s condition must not be divulged to anyone - especially not to the army.”

“Do you realize -”

“I do!” He cuts in. “Believe me I do. But we have spies among us, though they cannot pass information to the enemy across the river at the moment, it will not stop them from spreading discord among the men. The men will panic, my lady - you must understand.”

“That’s why he came, isn’t it so?” She says slowly. “To dispel the rumors? Does this battle mean more than his life?” Her voice rises in spite of herself, clouded with worry and disbelief. “That’s why he didn’t allow me to tell him before - he already knows about the blood thinners, doesn’t he?”

She allows the tears to fall, as she turns to watch him.

“Does he want to die?”

Chun doesn’t reply and she wishes it is not what she thinks - not that she had led him to this - into thinking that death would be better than the life she had condemned him into.

“Call his majesty’s entourage and tell them to begin a night vigil - nobody is to enter.” She dispels a breath before clutching her fists.

“My lady -!” Chun exclaims, she watches him calmly, willing not to waste anymore time.

“Go to that physician and bring me his acupuncture needles. Be discreet if you must, I need to slow down his circulation.”

“Bu - but,” stammers Chun. “A night vigil?”

“Do you have a better idea to stop anyone from knowing?”

“Lady Kang -” Chun starts again, tips of his ears turning red. “Do you even know -”

“I’m not a child lord Chun - I know very well what a night vigil is. Otherwise I would not have suggested. I am the emperor’s betrothed it is not immoral for me to spend the night with him.”

“Lord Kang would -”

“Needles - now!”

She exhales and sits back down on the bed, reaching for his hand - trying to find some courage to hold onto. His palm is clammy and his fingers dig into the supple flesh at the back of her palm. Ha Jin sighs and closes her eyes, allowing Jang Mi’s knowledge to seep into her mind. She wonders only briefly why the other woman allows herself to be used so, but her thoughts are no longer open for her understanding. Instead she merely shapes Ha Jin’s own mind to suit her own. She relaxes if only a little - for now, their purposes were similar. For now, she would trust Jang Mi.

**

The consequences follow. It is not like she had not thought about it. But Ha Jin is still learning about the Kangs and their ruthlessness has new shades to it every encounter.

The slap stings and she tastes copper on her tongue. She does not need a mirror to see the bruise blooming against her cheek. The eyes of Ah Ri burns with fire and she clutches her fist, retraining herself from dealing another blow.

“How dare you…” she asks slowly, seething and murderous. “…sleep with your brother’s murderer?”

The anger cuts but something ten folds sinister simmers inside her. It is a fury that is hardly her own, a rage that is cool as ice but burns her nevertheless.

“Just as my lord father dared to send me to his bed.”

The woman growls and grits her teeth for a fleeting second Ha Jin wonders how could she exercise so much of an authority over her own lady. But she finds no surprise on the part of Jang Mi, instead there is fury that drowns her wave after wave. She realizes it is not the first time it had happened - the bitterness that washes over her belongs to Jang Mi. This woman had been cruel - deriving her power to discipline her from the lord Kang.

Ah Ri is not a simple maid, as Ha Jin had thought first. She is also the mistress of Jang Mi’s father - and rules in his stead as he lies injured and indisposed. Hatred rises on her throat like bile.  

“Where did my Rose learn to talk the language of street rats?” She clicks her tongue. “Bring the whip…Let us see how you marry the emperor - You little fool!” Her knuckles whitens around the end of the whip, and it cracks against the ground. “You ruined us all!”

Ha Jin flinches when the whip cracks again, but instead the woman approaches her, her breath heaving. “Had I not been clear enough - when I told you the marriage must not be consummated? Had I not been clear enough when I told you what your object was? What do you hope to achieve by siding with a dying man?”

Dying man? She stares at her with fury and hardly masked bewilderment.

“You knew!” Her inhale is harsh and she stumbles a step backwards. “You knew -” something breaks inside her as she tries to sort out her thoughts. Ah Ri - no, the betrayal that breaks Jang Mi somehow runs deeper. She is not thinking of her father’s mistress - but something else, something sinister that she hides from Ha Jin. “You killed my brother!”

It comes to her like a bolt of thunder, the poison - if Ah Ri knew of the poison it means she was also aware of the plot of planting it. The very plot that her brother was accused of. Her brother - they had killed him just to win over her father’s loyalty. Just for an army. Just for some power.

“He called you mother -” she says with disgust. “My brother - how could you? How could you!”

The woman does not get a chance to reply, instead the voices outside disturb them, pushes them into a silence simmering with sparks of rage.The maids push the doors open and the entourage fills inside headed by an eunuch in official blue robes.

“Kang Jang Mi, receive the imperial decree!” His raised voice drowns their thoughts. Ah Ri bows, her hand with the whip shakes before she lowers it. Ha Jin feels her lips curling cynically.

She kneels and extends her hands as the decree is read out.

By the mandate of heavens given to me, I Gwangjong the fourth emperor of Goreyo proclaim Kang Jang Mi, daughter of Kang Shin, is of virtuous conduct and carries herself in gentle dignified manner suiting a lady of her station. As a gratitude to her services to the nation and in honor of her prestigious clan, she is hereby decreed to enter the inner palace. Bestow title imperial consort of third rank. Bestow…” The eunuch takes a deep breath and starts to narrate the list of dowry, before ending with a sigh. “…and ten servants, decreed by the emperor himself.”

There is a pause of utter silence before her forehead touches the ground. It feels like an ending, more than a beginning of sorts and her mind is clouded with Jang Mi’s disappointment. The hands of the man she loved were stained with her brother’s blood and her own kin was mixed in the plot. Ha Jin holds that thought for a brief second - kin?

“Kang Jang Mi accepts the decree - long live the emperor..!”

As she rises, with the scroll of deep red clutched in her clammy hand, the eunuch and the retinue kneels before her.

“Greetings to consort Kang! May fortune favor your grace!”

Notes:

It is to be noted that Jang Mi might not be entirely truthful about her feelings to Ha JIn, she has the reins, she may choose which part to reveal. therefore - Ah Ri remains a mystery, I hope no one asks me why lord Kang needs an old mistress!
Hope you enjoy the chapter, do let me know.
I'm really grateful for all the views and comments and votes. Only, I'm not able to update as much as I'd love to, real life is strangling me these days!
See you soon!

Chapter 14: Blunt edge

Summary:

A new game begins.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He feels like a sinner. Even through the haze of pain and fever, that brief moment of weakness is branded into his conscious, when he had indulged himself into seeking solace in the arms of a trickster. Shutting his mind against the needs of his heart, denying himself the reality and wanting to believe in a decadent fantasy. It feels like an insult to his love to all that she had ever meant to him. He had almost thrown it all away, in a moment of desperation.

He wakes up with his head on her lap, one limp hand curled into his hair, in mid motion of combing through and the other clutching a handful of his robe. For a moment longer, he indulges himself, his head heavy with sleep and she smells of roses and smoke - something milder that reminds him of Seol. He could for a fragment of a second close his eyes and imagine - she is the same woman, the woman he yearned for.

She had fallen asleep in a stiff position. Head leaning against her own shoulder and neck twisted into a painful angle. Once elegant braid of hair coming loose to tickle her cheeks with escaped strands. Her lips are slightly parted and pulse throbs against her milky throat.

He could still remember the moment her eyes blinked open. He had only realized it then, that he had raised a hand to caress her cheek involuntarily. His hand hang in the mid air, as their eyes meet. For a moment she watches him before reaching out to trace those jiggered lines of raised skin, now bare on his face.

Something snaps inside him at her daring - at how far she goes in laying down her trap. Trick after trick of pretended affection.

“Get out!”

She doesn’t move for a moment.

“Did you not hear me cousin?” His voice is dangerously low. “Leave!”

Without a word she snatches his wrist and feels his pulse, as if the words had not been spoken, she checks his temperature with her other hand.  

“What are you trying to do?” He cannot help but ask. “What elaborate scheme have you come up with this time?”

“What about your majesty?” She questions back. “Disregarding your life in this manner, what kind of a wicked scheme would that be?”

It occurs to him slowly, the needles, the smell of herbs in the air - he looks at her with doubt and disbelief. The unmoving shadows outside, of his entourage standing guard confirms it for him.

Despite the weakness that makes him waver, he scrambles to his feet, throwing off the support that she offers.

“Did you stage this?” He could not believe a woman could scheme to this extent - with her own honor - for a bit of power.

“Your majesty?”

He wishes to strangle her, but cannot bring himself to, for she looks - with her lips beginning to tremble and eyes brimming - he cannot face her. From all ways of self destruction he had gone and chosen the most decadent one. What hurts is how tortuously familiar she looks to his most ardent desire. The fabric is light, rustling - it is not the auspicious red, but a more indulgent - deeper shade of wine that contrast against her white marble throat, drawing attention to each flutter of pulse. The layers are elusive and modest, but instead shifts and casts alluring shadows against her curves.

“It is not what your majesty thinks - please -” she tugs at his sleeve, not daring to touch him anymore. “Please, allow me - I can treat you. Please - just this once - trust -”

“I will never trust a Kang.” He snaps at her bitterly, shaking himself free of her hold. “You can dispense with that dream.”

“You don’t want to be healed do you?” She shoots back.

“It should make you happy - the biggest obstacle in your prince’s way to throne - his birthright huh? Heaven itself is aiding him by removing it. Shouldn’t you be jubilant cousin?” He cannot help but sound cynical. “Or do you wish to speed things up - has it been too much waiting already? Or do you wish to have the satisfaction of -”

“Stop it!” She shrieks, clutching her fists and shaking. He draws a step closer, eating up the distance between them and snatching up his blade as he moves. The sound of steel makes her flinch.

“Why don’t we end it here - now,” he suggests slowly, making her grip the blade in her shaking hands. It is pressed between them, the edge towards him, still the chill of metal makes both of them shiver. “For all you’ve spun, you’ve earned the chance - dear cousin - let us finish this tonight.”

She is trembling, trying to pull away from him, break free and instead he reaches out to caress her face.

‘Don’t let me think you’ve started this night vigil with something else in mind.”

She drops her gaze and breathes through her mouth, with the threadbare distance between them, he could taste the fear in her exhale.

“Look at me -” he hisses and his fingers curl around her chin forcefully. He could feel the steel pressing closer, still not with enough strength to break skin. He raises her face, bringing his mouth closer. “It is you who came to me. I will not have you imagining any other man.”

“Let me go…”

He clicks his tongue, disappointed.

“Is that the best you could do? I was told you could take on four armed men all by yourself - with just three needles. Was my brother exaggerating then?” He traces a fingertip across her cheekbone. “I’m giving you a chance cousin - to end it without restoring to trickery. Seize it. It could be your last.”

“I’m trying to heal you -”

“And I don’t believe you - I think you are trying to get closer enough to strike right at the heart.” His hold on her tightens almost painfully. “Beware, cousin - any closer, you will belong to me - utterly - forever. Haven’t you heard how hard it is to run away once you do?”

Her eyes flicker, but the fear he wants to install in them does not appear.

“We both know that is a lie.” She says resolutely. “It is not me, but you are the one pretending.” The distance he leaves between them, she crosses it herself, the blade clutters on the floor. “Pretending to be heartless, pretending not to know me - pretending as if you don’t feel anything -”

“Stop deluding yourself.”

“Stop avoiding my eyes!”

“Do you think I would believe you -”

“Do you think I would?”

“You are afraid of me.”

“And so are you!” She is so close now that he could drown in her eyes. Her hands come up to cup his face and they tremble no more - as her fingertips caress along his cheekbones. “You are afraid to accept the truth. You are afraid that I am what you think I am -”

“Cousin I’m warning you -”

“You are willing to follow me into death but not willing to open your heart again. You coward - you -”

He never moves consciously, but sanity had deserted him a long before. Instead, he is filled with grief, guilt and fury that he cannot bear it anymore. Instead his fingers thread through her hair and pull her inexplicably closer, before his mouth descends, ravishingly insistent - seeking and recoiling at the same time, shuddering with the ferocity of the passion that simmers in each brief touch, he kisses her - despite himself. Her hands remain cupping his face, caressing his jaw as she kisses him back. Many folds softer, gentler and lingering - each caress of her delicate lips leave him feeling like brute.

The taste of her is achingly familiar, their movements synced as if it was a rite of old they had half forgotten. It is the copper on his tongue, where his teeth had drawn blood from her lip and the moisture of a tear smudged on his cheek that brings him crashing back to reality.

Many years later - he is still the brute who had forced a kiss on his beloved. The realization crushes his soul under its unforgiving weight. She sways a little as he breaks off, her eyes unfocused and her hold slack on his robe.

It must have been her first kiss - he thinks with a sinking heart, taking in her swollen lips, smudged with a trace of her own blood - and he had ruined something that could have been beautiful.

He turns away and fetches the discarded outer layer of her robe, wrapping it around her frozen figure with care. She holds his wrist before he draws his touch away. Her eyes flicker into his.

“I won’t allow you to die,” she says, there is a fire in her eyes that makes his throat run dry. “Test me if you must - but I will not allow this futile stupidity.”

He chuckles despite himself - for how childish she sounds, sure of herself, blind to everything else.

“I would wish you luck cousin.”

“You would come to me yourself.”

“We shall see…”

The bitter look of self loathing in his eyes is hard to forget. She is still struggling as she accepts the greetings from the kneeling subjects. Still reeling from shock she is, when Chun walks in, with another scroll of crimson and gold.

“Your grace,” he bows, eyes lowered and keeping his distance. “I come bearing words from his imperial majesty.”

“Lord Chun -”

“Park -” he corrects her. “I am an adopted member of the Park clan, under his majesty’s protection. You grace may address me with that name if it pleases you. His majesty wishes me to retrieve a precious possession of his in your keeping.”

“I brought nothing that do not belong to me…” She wills her head to beat slower as she lies through clenched teeth.

“Think again your grace - his majesty wants me to remind you, consequences of stealing from his majesty would be fetal.”

“I wouldn’t dare - lord Park. Please relay my words to his majesty, - if his majesty believes I am capable of such - trickery.” She replies with his own choice of words, avoiding Chun’s eyes and turning away to hide a smile. “He may search and recover it himself.”

Notes:

I split this because the chapter turned out too long for my taste, will post the rest as soon as I edit. Meanwhile, what do you think is this precious possession of his majesty that is supposedly missing?
See you soon! ;-)

Chapter 15: Playing with fire

Summary:

She begins a dangerous game and odds pile up.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Kang Seo!” Her voice shakes with suppressed fear and her breath rises into swirls of mist. The forest sinks into a wintry silence each time she stops to breathe. “Kang Seo!”

Beneath the snow that she steps into, the soaked leaves from fall are slippery, it slows her down and there are no signs of the boy. Jang Mi’s worry for her step brother bleeds into her conscious, though she would not believe it of So, Chun had been elusive in his words. Ah Ri had begun to wail the moment Chun had mentioned her brother was with his majesty, a thinly veiled threat as he inquired about the lost possession and the woman had begun to curse her - for misfortune she seemed to bring upon them, for disgrace and for making her brothers pay for her petty mistakes. Chun had barely raised a brow at her and reminded the woman, rather coldly that her grace was to be properly addressed, if the lady valued her life.

Still Jang Mi had not allowed her to wait around to see the results of that particular conversation. Though illegitimate and not eligible to inherit the clan title, Kang Seo was the only sibling she had left. She would not permit him to be dragged as a political pawn, neither would her father.

“Kang Seo!”

An arrow wheezes past, whipping her with a gust of air and making her still on her tracks. A sound of clapping sharp in the frosty air trails along. She stumbles upon them soon after, breathless and tripping over her own skirts. Kang Seo turns with the bow in his hand - a wide smile splitting his face in two. Nose turned red from cold and eyes sparkling.

“Third Sister!” He exclaims waving the bow in the air. “I hit the target!”

She doesn’t reply for a moment for her eyes remain fixed on the man standing behind him, on his dark gaze that seemed to size her up.

“Consort Kang,” he says gruffly, placing a tactful hand on the boy’s shoulder. She swallows painfully, realizing how dry her throat had suddenly become.

“Your majesty,” she says, walking measured steps towards them. “I was looking for my brother - his mother is worried.”

“He will make a good archer,” he is yet to look away from her. “He has your first brother’s talent.”

“When the time comes,” she reminds him. Not now. Not yet. “Kang Seo, why don’t you return ahead of us? Your mother is looking for you.”

The boy pouts, looking between them with hardly masked displeasure.

“Please third sister - I’m yet to hunt foxes! Imperial brother in law is going to take me!”

“Kang Seo - yah, you cannot refer to his majesty like that -!” Her voice rises with anxiety and she reaches out a shaking hand too grip into her brother. “Apologize to his majesty now !”

“This is not the palace - some etiquette can be overlooked,” his unwavering gaze makes her shift uncomfortably. “Kang Seo, why don’t you go ahead with lord Park? He is the best fox hunter I’ve ever seen” The emperor suggests lightly, bringing her attention to Chun who had followed on her trail. He steps up to lead the boy away, answering in a mild voice to his excited questions. She watches her brother, skipping to match the older man’s long strides.

Her attention is drawn back by the faintest touch of a fingertip trailing down her cheek. The raw skin stings under the cool touch and she flinches as her eyes flicker back into his.

“Who did this?”

She turns her face away, there is no trace of Seo, Chun or the party they led away. Only the emperor’s retinue lingers around, averting their gazes.

“He is nine. Must your majesty do this?” She cannot help but ask. The power of her clan is already his to claim, she had given it away freely with that one swift decision. With her father indisposed and all her legitimate brothers gone, there had only been the matter of her marriage between his right to control her clan.

“I was four,” he reminds her and she notices that his eyes are no longer on her. But distant and colder. She shivers at the chill of his voice, the indifference that cuts her open. He was the same man who had told her bluntly that he did not trust Kangs. So he will do what his experience would demand of him. “I shall not have another Hae clan at my borders.”

He makes a move to walk past her and then stops as she speaks.

“What will happen to Haes?”

“What happens to all traitors?” He questions in turn. “They chose their own ending.”

“Then why did my people not follow after my brother?”

A pause stretches after her words and the emperor turns to face her. Something flickers across his dark gaze as he regards her.

“Are you asking to be executed, beloved consort?”

There is something simmering between them, an answer he is not willing to give and she is not willing to give up on. The step she takes towards him is an unconscious one.

“I am asking only a logical question, lord husband.”He blinks at the intimate address and she takes the opportunity to take his wrist. “How are you this morning?”

He plays along for peering eyes, his larger hand covering her small one.

“First decide whose side you are taking dearest, your brother’s or mine?”

She says nothing as she allows his wrist to drop, his pulse is steady enough for her to take a moment of reprieve. She sighs.

“Let me see your aim,” he signals for a bow and hands it to her himself. She takes the bow with unsure hands, the rough wood strange against her fingertips. Running a hand over it once, she looks up into his measuring look.

“You have bow - cut hands,” he tells her bringing attention to her unnaturally hard fingertips. “I’d like to see the fruits of all that training.”

She fumbles with the bow string for a moment, before tying it properly and pulling it back, turning towards the target Seo had been practicing on earlier.

“Your mind is elsewhere,” his voice curls snugly around her ear as he adjusts her shoulders. “ If you are wondering - I am not going to change the decree due to your petty means -” he says after a moment. “You’ve made your choice the other night - now bear the consequences.”

The smile that curls her lips is a bitter one. Does he think she had made that move in hopes of getting herself demoted to a court lady? Perhaps Jang Mi would have done that - but Ha Jin?

“You think so bitter of me Pyeha -” The bow quivers and the arrow is released. She doesn’t waste time on watching its progress, instead turns her eyes on the man behind her. His hand cover her own on the bow - pulling it with a strength she would not have possibly mastered alone, the pretence keeps their conversation locked between his lips pressed to her ear.  

“What other reasons could you have of stealing a book you cannot possibly read?”

“I can read it.”

They shoot and he turns to her. She could see the tension at his jaw, the fire in his eyes. The arrow is still quivering in the dead center of the target.

“Do you think I could be so easily played cousin?”

“Test it for yourself - your majesty. You’d know if I could or could not possibly make up the contents of that - precious - book.”

“You truly have no idea what I could possibly do to you - do you?” He asks darkly. “I don’t tolerate deception and you are already on thin ice.”

“Aren’t your majesty intrigued to know why I’d take such risk?”

“Are you that desperate consort Kang?” His tone turns sarcastic. “Haven’t I made myself clear enough?”

“What will one more night do to your majesty’s resolve?”

He steps closer, still holding her gaze. Steps closer enough for her heart to start racing. In the cool morning the misty swirls of their breath mingle. He takes the bow off her hands and hands it to someone from his retinue behind them.  

“I shall grace you tonight then, consort Kang,” he tells her slowly, eyes darkening dangerously as they roam her face. “Prepare yourself well.”

**

They soak her in a bath of crushed roses until her skin is tender and rubbed raw. She recoils self consciously from the touches of so many women attending her and they do not seem to mind - instead they are insistent, meticulous and indifferent. A room full of strangers who dresses her up like a doll, in soft - gossamer robes of wine red, delicately embroidered in satiny black - his and her colors entwined sensuously.

She doesn’t allow them to touch her face. Eun Mi is the only one that she recognizes and she holds out a hand when she approaches with lip rouge. She would rather not wear blood on her lips - tonight.

“I don’t want them.”

The young court lady, a trainee from damiwon most likely, looks at her with pity - almost ready to explain to her the ways of the capital that mountain - bred women like her would not be familiar with.

“But your grace, the emperor -”

Might like his women with painted faces - so that it becomes easier to forget they are human - or ever a part of his life - but that is exact opposite of what she is looking for.

“I’d do my own makeup.”

The woman concedes after much coaxing, and watches with a careful eye as she works on her face - perfect as it oddly is, she had never found it so hard to work with her own familiar features. Eun Mi watches and notices her preferences -

“Are you to attend me from now on?” Her question makes them young girl jerk. “Court lady Han - right?”

“Yes - your grace,” the girl bows. “Under the supervision of court lady Noh.”

“How is Seol - princess Seol?” She corrects herself almost immediately.

“Lady Seol is teething -” Eun Mi smiles, “it makes her more fuzzy than usual.”

“Perhaps - sometime later tomorrow, you could bring her to me.”

“Your grace - I don’t think -”

The announcement outside drowns her refusal and Eun Mi offers her a shaky bow as she withdraws.

There is a stale flavor to it all, despite the scented candles and their flickering lights. He ignores her greetings as the eunuchs undress him, peeling off each layer of heavy imperial attire to the much simpler - white garments.

“Enough -” he stops them mid way. “Consort Kang will attend me.”

They bow and withdraw themselves, routine actions that are repeated until they became tasteless. The closing door makes her hands tremble a little.

“Is that wine?” He inquires a moment later, watching her pour the thick red liquid. She tries to ignore the doubt that laces his words.

“It’s hibiscus tea,” she doesn’t look up at him as she replies. “It cures illnesses of blood.”

His hand pauses on mid - movement, causing her to look up at him. When she does, he is watching her with a strange expression.

“This is what you’ve planned?”

“Whatever your majesty may think of me - I’m too proud to humble myself for a man’s attention - even if the man is the son of heavens himself.”

He chuckles a little.

“For all your claims - aren’t you staking too much on me already - beloved consort?”

She shakes her head allowing a small smile of her own.

“The fate of my people are in your majesty’s hands - I’d dare not let them down.”

“Good -” he sips a little from the bitter liquid. “For a moment I thought you’ve changed your intentions.” He sips again before frowning. “Where is the book?”

“I’ve promised to read it to your majesty - but your majesty would have to uphold the other end of the bargain.”

“Let me guess - to allow you to treat me for every night you read it? Why do I feel I’ve heard that before - the maiden telling stories to the blood thirsty king in return of her life?” There is no humour in his voice, though his lips curl. She smiles softly.

“Your majesty remembers.”

“I’ve never forgotten,” he tells her, briskly. “One of the reasons why you can never replace that person.”

She swallows the bitterness with effort before smiling again.

“Three wishes - I’ll read it all, as long as your majesty wishes.”

“It still depends on whether I believe what you read or not - dearest.”

“Three wishes.” She pushes no further. His brows frown.

“What are they?”

“I want princess Seol -”

“Not possible.”

“Your majesty must allow me to treat -”

“I shall think about it.” There is a pause and he leans in curiously. “And the third?”

“I will be allowed to accompany your majesty into battle.”

Notes:

Finally we arrive at the place where the story truly starts. It took me fifteen chapters - still I hope you are enjoying the slow steady ride.
Tell me how this goes - waiting to hear from you!

Chapter 16: Purgatory

Summary:

A hell of her own making.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Instead of rouge and powder she wears a mask of will. He considers her in silence and finds her unreadable. After taste of crushed hibiscus lingers on his tongue, slightly nutty and buttery but no longer bitter.

“My men have sworn their blades to me…” he says quietly, setting down the cup. Her eyes are molten gold in the light of scented candles. “Sworn their lives to me. We’ve risen from blood and dust together. Can I trust your blade consort Kang?”

I will never trust a Kang - she is yet to forget his words.

“I have no intention of killing,” she says lightly. It startles him how steady her gaze remains, unblinkingly fixed upon his. “I must assure myself that your majesty is in no imminent danger. I’ve pledged my life to you - Pyeha, I must ensure that I made the right choice.” She doesn’t contradict his observations, instead speak soft words that fail to convince him.

“You speak well but your eyes - they tell a different story,” the words escape him even before he had carefully evaluated them and cause her to blink, draw her lashes against the doors to her soul. “There is murder in your eyes.”

She draws her fingers into a fist as he speaks, nails curling into flesh vengefully. He reads enough to lean in and clasp that tensed fist in his own palm making her shudder and look at him. There are tears pricking her eyes, born not of sadness but anger and resentment. He reads her too well that it starts to scare him. For he is no longer certain who sits in front of him - a love he lost or a stranger he is drawn to, a trap or salvation. She watches him with the eyes of his lover and his heart begins to pick up.

There is a commotion outside, that invades the momentary peace that had befallen them. Footsteps, voices an urgency that had breached decorum. Still they do not approach him until he raises his voice himself.

“Who is there?”

The head eunuch Kim shuffles in, head bowed and eyes never rising from the ground, he whispers a few words only for his ear. When the emperor looks at her, his eyes are aflame - it makes her shudder for she had never seen such fury in his eyes.Despite himself he chuckles humourlessly and gestures for the head eunuch.

“We ride out,” he rises with the short command and she follows suit disoriented. His eyes are heavy on her, crushing her very soul. There is a trace of that bitter laughter lingering at the corner of his mouth. “Well played - cousin.”

“Your majesty - wh - what -”

“Your loyalty is impressive,” he tells her slowly, venomously, and the doors are thrown open this time with no ceremony. Court ladies - or she thinks they are - dressed in black march in. “Seize her!” He spits out the two words as he fetches his robe from where it lies in a neat pile, without sparing a glance at them as the women corner her and seize her by the wrists, crowding around her and pressing her by the sides. There is none of the gentleness from before as they push her forcefully down on her knees. Hands that remain on her shoulders forcing her into submission.

“Pyeha -”

“As I said, your loyalty to a man who almost killed you is impressive - then again, I’m not a man who understands love.” His fingers curl around her chin forcefully. “From the moment you returned from Haes I should have known. It must have been hard - huh - pretending to care - pretending to sacrifice - for a moment back there, you almost had me convinced.”

She meets his gaze, as it bores into her, willing him to see the truth of her oblivion.

“What have I done?”

“Accompany me to battle?” He hisses. “So that you could plunge a knife on my back?”

“Pyeha -” The hold of the women twisting her arms are painful and her eyes are pricking with fresh tears that have nothing to do with the pain. The distrust in his gaze hurts her thousand folds more. “I don’t know - I’ve never -”

“Stand back!” The women draw away, making her stumble on the ground. “To lure me out - you really left no stone unturned, tell me - cousin, did he promise you a crown?”

Her breath hitches and she doesn’t even make a move to stand up. Lure him away? All that she had done to make sure he is treated away from lurking spies - lure him away - did that mean, that the enemies had crossed the frozen river?

“Seol - Seol -” The worry engulfs her and takes her under, until she could breathe no more. Her baby - stranded in a camp swarming with foes!

Something snaps inside him as he swoops down on her. Even without touching, simply with his exhale branded into her skin she finds herself burning.

“Don’t dare take her name with that filthy tongue.” His words are low, spoken only for her, but there is no mistaking of the fury behind them. She had never known So was capable of such hatred and for the first time fear flickers through her eyes. Still she cares little for her heart is stuck in her throat. To think that her baby was trapped in there - where the war had broken out - she finds that she couldn’t breathe. Instead she throws caution to the wind and her hands fist around his collar.

“Where is my baby?” she gasps.

In return his fingers curl into her hair, bringing her closer - until she could see nothing but the acid in his eyes.

“If anything happens to my daughter,” he growls. “Anything - anything at all - I’m going to skin both you and your lover alive.”

As swiftly as he had pulled her closer, he pushes her away, rough and uncaring as he straightens up. Unease coils up inside her partly her own and partly that of Jang Mi’s - Ha Jin is on her feet unconsciously, reaching out to hold him before he walks out. Even when she knows that everything between them has gone up in flames - any trace of trust that was hard earned turned to ashes - she could not bear the thought.

“Please…”

It must have been the abruptness of her action that for a moment too long, he allows her arms to encircle around his middle. It is the closest they’ve been in a long time and the furthest away at the same time. He stands unmoving, unyielding as she presses herself against his stiff back.

“Let me come too…Please I’ve to see - my - my baby -”

She feels his pulse, thrumming in worry and agitation, it emits from him in waves, the pure undiluted hatred.

“Take this woman away and lock her up,” he says coldly, gritting his teeth. “I do not wish to see her again.”

They peel her away instantly and he shakes off his sleeves before striding out. She struggles with their insistent hold, blocking her view, her path towards him.

“Pyeha! Pyeha!”

He pauses at the threshold but never turns to look at her.

“Pray for her to be safe - for you will rue the day we met if I lose another child.”

The door closes with a bang and he is immediately swarmed by armed men, Chun at their head. So stops for a moment, his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. His own pulse too loud in his ears that he could hardly form a coherent thought. In a long time - he had not felt more furious or more afraid. It clenches him in a hold of vice and eats away at his rationality.

“We found evidence of communication from her rooms your majesty,” Chun sounds resentful himself as he hands him the half burnt paper - the message short and precise. “The slave you asked me to look into seems to have already made it to the other bank.” He stares at the paper in his hand - the words mocking him in their glory. Too convenient - too clean. He frowns.

“Make sure consort Kang does not leave her rooms - nobody lays a hand on her - I will be doing the interrogation.”

“”Pyeha -” Chun hesitates. “The bureau of justice -”

“No - not yet. Do not touch her for now and make sure she doesn’t harm herself.” He sees the doubt on Chun’s face and feels the misgiving in his own heart. “If she is indeed guilty I want to kill her myself.”

**

They drag her soon after the imperial guard had withdrawn. They drag her deep down and despite her heart clenching and unclenching with fear for her baby - for So who might have ridden to certain death, Ha Jin cannot help but shudder. The darkened passageways and the frozen ground beneath her feet seem to materialize the most brutal of her nightmares around her. Ghosts of torture, blood and pain - of broken bones that never healed, of court lady Oh walking towards death with a bitter smile - head held high - claws at her unrelentingly bringing her feet into halt on their own accord.

They don’t stop, and push her forward - until they lock her in the unseeing darkness. She hears the footsteps walking away, the many doors they’ve walked through being locked once again. The air is pungent with the odor of decaying lives, blood, sweat and urine. Her knees give away and she collapses on the icy ground, curling into a trembling ball.

Her heart aches and her eyes burn. In the darkness she is again Hae Soo with threat of gallows looming over her. Gasping for breath and rocking herself she rests her forehead on her knees and toes of her bare feet curl. Her tears are the only streak of heat running along her frozen cheeks.

Her lips tremble and scratches on her skin sting against the chill. She squeezes her eyes shut and wills the fears away, they coil around her tighter the harder she tries and her heart begins to ache, burning for breath. So - he had once stood between her and death and now - when she circles back to the same depth of despair, it is he who passes the sentence. It is he who sends her to the embrace of her nightmares.

She closes her eyes and tries to reach for Jang Mi for she needs to know if she really deserves this ending - if unknown to her, her hands had committed the sin she is accused of. The rose of Kang is not without thorns. Ha Jin knows - she has tasted her hatred before.

If it is so - she thinks shuddering - if she has unknowingly caused her child harm - plotted in bringing about so many deaths - she would walk to gallows herself. Or perhaps - chill settles on her shoulders - would it be So’s blade? Even in the darkness, she recalls the scathing look in his eyes - there was no mistaking of his wrath.

But then, in the darkness she tries to look at her fingers, feeling them quiver, her teeth begins to clatter. The gossamer robes do little against the chill, the winter - punishingly cold wraps itself around her like a shroud. And her heart begins to ache, exhausted as it tries to pump non existent warmth into her veins.

The memories that flood her mind are no longer her own.

In the darkness a boy is screaming. His agony is palpable and the air stench of burnt flesh. She shudders, peeping through a crack in a door, standing far away from the ghostly light of a single torch that burns. The boy screams again and again and then some more.

Then the sounds change. Words become more distinguishable. The boy calls someone over and over. Trying to wake up - calling - calling -

She realizes it with a jolt, the memory that must belong to Jang Mi is of the first kill she had spoken of, the guard that had come to kill So. Then the boy - Her thoughts swirl and curl with new found fears. It is the same place - locked and dark, the dungeons - does it mean there is some other way to enter the underground prison of Kangs?  

There are chains that rattle and footsteps that approach - she turns and runs away, on silent toddling feet - away - away - away

Ha Jin wakes up as if she was falling. Her eyes are burning and her tears had long dried up. The chains rattle for real - and in the darkness she hears the swift sound of fabric brushing the ground. Disoriented, she turns around, round and round, getting to her feet clumsily. Her bones had frozen over and she almost collapses again, before they adjust to her weight.

The laughter in reply is soft.

“Ah Ri?” Her throat is sore, her voice rough.

“Is my Rose faring well? Ready to face the blade of the man you chose?” She speaks with loathing, with hardly disguised malice.

“Did you do this?”

The woman clicks her tongue and her fury begins to boil.

“For a bit of power you would harm a baby?”

“Asks the woman who used the same child to steal its mother’s face -” poison drips from the tongue of the woman. “If the child is harmed it is none of my doing - tell me Rose, have you forgotten the terms of bargaining with the devil.”

The chill that coils around her heart has nothing to do with the winter the pain makes her clench a hand around her heart and gasp. Suddenly, it feels as if someone is strangling her, invisible fingers that crush her windpipe.

“Need I remind you what happens if you go back on promises made?” The woman hisses. “Life for a life - that was the bargain. You did not care then - for you wanted to kill the emperor so badly. But now - now…” she clicks her tongue again, disappointed, repulsed. “Now that he has beguiled you - thralled you into a whimpering - needy - toy - have you forgotten the price of saving his life?”

She taste the blood on her mouth as it blocks her airway, the pain comes from nowhere and sets her veins on fire. The screams that she hear, it takes a while to realize they are her own.

“He lives - you die. You live he dies. If you save both - the sacrifice will die…have you forgotten who the sacrifice had been? The very thing that lady Hae’s soul had any greed for - the only thing that bound her to this world even after she was gone - have you forgotten - have you forgotten why the prince brought the child to you in the first place?” At the startled silence the woman laughs aloud. “Fear not - my darling Rose - we have the entire night left. Once I’m done with you, you will remember everything and I will deal with this pesky soul that’s bothering you once and for all...”

Notes:

I'm yet to edit this - forgive a mistake here and there. I won't be available until Monday and I couldn't bear to keep you waiting for so long without an update. Will edit as soon as I return. Wishes for a good weekend in advance! :-)

Chapter 17: Ties of blood

Summary:

Till death do us part

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Red welts curled around her wrists sting in the wintry air and a shiver passes down her spine. Fear curls a little tighter at the pit of her stomach. It hurts to keep walking when snow burns under her bare feet and she could barely feel her toes, it hurts when the ache in her bones is stroked by the cold like a vengeful flame - searing her conscious. Jang Mi seethes somewhere beneath her conscious, her fury venomous and powerful.

Angry at Ah Ri, who reaps benefits of another’s scheming - the plot, she is aware is much bigger than torturing her for few names that she knows not to give. The plot is to take her out of their path, the only woman who could perhaps reverse everything they had done. Irony is that the very man she set out to save ordered her to be uprooted.

She is unaware of the time she had spent in the eternal night of the dungeons. For when she finally finds the shifting stone that opens a track between the walls - leading into a tunnel and crawls - for she could barely fit inside it, outside the night is falling again.

In the bluish dusk, she collapses in the snow, groaning and face first. The frost licks her cheeks cruelly, acidic against the cuts in her arms. Her ribs are on fire and her eyes - puffed and bloody, sees very little. For a moment she allows the silence to settle over her - allows the betrayal to set in - allows the truth to sink. She could barely walk.

You live - he dies. Both live - sacrifice dies. 

Tears burn behind her lashes. She couldn’t afford the price of this second chance. It feels achingly familiar - the melancholy that she cannot shake off. She thinks of lady Oh again - walking to her doom with head held high. She thinks of her own cries of despair as she tried in vain to reach her one last time. Had I known - she remembers thinking - I would never have wanted to live. But now that she knows - now that she knows…

Her thoughts are incoherent and feverish. She thinks of So - of his eyes burning with detest, she deserves it, for breaking him over and over. Still, she knows it would kill him if she allows his misunderstanding to take her life. He would not live it down if his blade is compelled into taking her life. She thinks of Eun - thinks of So’s agony. To die the easiest would have been to confess - let the fate take hold of reins - but she would not put him through it again. Even when he does not know - now - she plans of taking the secret to her grave - once again.

Ah Ri had been right about one thing - greedy she is. She thinks of Seol - the soft, happy, toothless Seol - and she couldn’t help but sob. Her heart aches and her body is barely moving - and she collapses again after a few staggering feet. It is then that she hears it, the war cry of a woman. The horses tearing through the snow - and the night is not so quiet anymore.

Jang Mi rolls her over, into the shrubs, out of sight, and through her bleary eyes she watches as the woman dismounts. It takes her only a few moments to recognize her - the older woman who had been strict but kind, concerned about her child. The court lady that she had realized was not really a court lady. But would that mean - would that mean -

Before she exhales, she notices that she was right. Clutched in her hand free of sword, is Seol. Three companions follow her, their blades also drawn, but it is not enough - never enough when the assailants are far too many. Ha Jin watches until the first offensive blade manages to touch lady Noh - exquisite though her skill is - the men corner her with their sheer numbers. One of her companions had already fallen and the other is flocked by attackers of her own.

It is Jang Mi’s knowledge of battle that urges her and she plucks a blade for herself from one of the fallen men. For that moment, she no longer feels the aching bones - or thinks of her own inexperience - in her eyes, she sees only Seol - her face white and eyes wide. A faint cut on one of her tiny arms.

Fury like she had never known before boils inside her and she growls, cutting across the first man that comes her way. Lady Noh pauses for a moment, as she watches her move, but relaxes into her deadly dance after a moment, leaving her to guard her back. They stand back to back, with the numbers of assailants cut down to half.

“Consort Kang?” She pants. There is a trace of pain in her tone.

“Lady Noh - are you hurt?”

“Can I trust your blade - your grace?” It becomes clearer as the woman hesitates, the hand that holds the blade shakes a little. “Consort Kang?”

“Yes.”

She waits for the woman’s acid test, but it doesn’t come. Instead she turns around, plunges her sword into the man who comes to attack her, pushes him back and holds her shoulder.

“Can you ride?”

Ha Jin pauses only for a moment - only for a moment does she think about her own pains, cuts, bruises and aches. She nods. Seol comes willingly when Lady Noh hands her over, Ha Jin clutches her baby close, drawing comfort from her beloved presence.

“Go!” Lady Noh continues to fight, holding them off for her. “Go west -” she shouts, “West is safe!”

As she ride, her heart in her mouth it begins to snow. The horse, unfamiliar to her, neighs and protests, slowing down. And new assailants begin to join the chase, arrows are released and wheeze past her. She shifts Seol, to her front and ducks low herself - ahead the forest grows thicker and branches wind closer. The agitated horse throws them off, when an arrow finds its marks on its hind leg.

Ha Jin groans using her own body to soften their fall, still Seol begins to cry - hitting her with soft clenched fists. The men follow, jumping off their horses, they close in, blades drawn.

“No - Seol - shh…” She presses a kiss on her cheek and rock her a little, before heaving her over her shoulder. She allows Jang Mi to take over as she pulls out her blade. For her child - to get out of here alive.

Jang Mi wonders why the weight of the child feels so comfortable on her shoulder - her own heart is heavy with emotion. She knows the odds are bad - she knows it as she takes on the first two men, parrying and waving her way through their blades. But still, she blocks the attacks made at the baby with her own body - uncaring of damaging her already slim chances of making it through alive.

She does not dare play with her opponents. The cuts she make are clean and lethal but so are the ones that she suffer. The last man standing falls to her blade but slashes across her thigh before he collapses - the groan she swallows, tears she blink back. But she cannot help but stagger - stumble - the man takes advantage of the momentary weakness and plunges his shorter dagger fished out from his ankle into her side just as her own blade finds his heart.

There is a frozen laughter on his face - as he falls back in to the snow washed red from the blood of his companions.

**

He is done with kindness, of yearning for it and dealing with it both. Instead he had learned ruthlessness like the back of his palm - the cold cruelty which makes it easier to live and deal with the pit of vipers he is supposed to govern. He would not beg for something that is denied, instead he would carry out his duties with the rigidness he is required of. Wang So has settled his scores with fate to bear the bane he had fought and won without a second thought.

He had survived her loss - barely - as a shell - true, but he has survived. Or so he thought. Tension coils inside him, tighter and tighter, until his muscles strain with it and his veins burn. He thought he knew better than to be deceived. He had been overconfident - too trusting - too blind. Blinded by his own need to believe even for the briefest second of a wistful dream that she was all he needed.

He battles with unease all the way back, the coil inside him, the breath clotting in his throat. It is fear, nerves and … guilt. He still burns where she had touched him. My baby she had said. My baby…

He thinks of the words recovered from her chambers, communication with the enemy. The message in his brother’s writing instructing her to lead him away from the front lines - tonight, it said, they will come. He thinks of her eyes, clear and unblinking as they held his, I’ve pledged my life to you - she had said.

The men had appeared from nowhere, Chun fills him in as they dismounts. It tallies with the decryption, it had to be tonight. They attacked as if they knew of the camp’s layout - as if they knew, where lady Seol would be, as if they knew, the emperor was not there. For none of them had attempted to break into the imperial compound. The unknown assailants were being chased now - into the forest, all of them would soon be captured.

His brows knit as he listens. Many callouses jump at him from the narration. He says little - as his eyes take in the dead, scattered in the bloodied snow - the open unseeing eyes, the broken weapons.

“Princess Seol?”

“Safely removed as ordered - your majesty,” Chun pauses on his account for a moment to reply. So heaves a breath, he knows lady Noh would not disappoint him, so easily. Loyalty to him is ingrained to her since decades, both of them are too battle worn to show their true concern to each other, but he knows that even to date - she sees him as the bloodied, bruised boy of yore.

He is many things but not a fool. He realizes where he went wrong as soon as he examines the tracks on the snow. They had not crossed the river. He crouches down on his knees and examines the snow - disturbed from the battle yet traces of hooves remain. He tunes out Chun’s words and instead focuses on the marks left behind by the assailants.

“I’d like to see the maid who discovered the message -” he says abruptly, stretching back to his full height.

“Pyeha?”

“The assailants did not cross the river - they came from west - the same way we did.” And the fear begins to burn anew - he had sent the child the same way - he had sent her to a certain death. He clutches a hand over his heart, bunching a fist full of robe as he heaves a breath.

“Pyeha!” Chun reaches for him with worry.

“No -” he does not allow him to touch, instead grits his teeth against the pain. Allows the knowledge to torment him - he had done it. He had done it again. “How many chased after them?” So continues to sound patient, but there is a crease between his brows and his jaw is tight. Chun swallows.

“They were many Pyeha…” He mumbles.

“Do we have enough to defend this ground - right now?” Chun remains silent, eyes downcast. “Lord Park!” When the emperor raises his voice and addresses him by his official title, the younger man knows that he has made a mistake. “How many men do we have?”

“Less than hundred -”

Chill settles him like a shroud, hard to shake off. His mouth twists at the irony, after all his opponent had always been a master mind.

“Send word - order retreat and rank the lines,” He orders. “The Hae forces are coming.” He stops and whistles sharply, calling his mount.

“Pyeha -”

“I need to make sure Seol left safely - she must not head from one blood bath to another. I shall return with the rest of forces - hold ground however you can -” His words drown into his own rising astonishment. He freezes and Chun following his line of sight turns around.

“Consort Kang?” The words he does not have are supplied by Chun.

So does not waste his time as he rushes towards her, thoughtlessly, almost instinctively. She is barely a silhouette in the darkness - but he sees her staggering - sees the precious bundle in one of her arms - the dripping blade clutched in the other. She freezes when their eyes meet and drops the blade, breathing through her mouth with difficulty.

She takes a step towards him and falters, before clumsily dropping to her knees, offering the child for him to take - a tribute of sorts in her trembling bloodied hands. His own hands shudder for he knows not what to expect, he dares the worst, judging by her appearance.

Her lower lip trembles the moment she loses contact with Seol. He barely heaves a sigh, clutching the child against his heart - trying to convince his cynical heart that he has not lost her. The baby yawns and tries to reach his head piece. His eyes are no longer on her.

“Save - her -” she groans - stretching a hand towards him. Blood splatters out of her mouth. She bends over, clutching at her abdomen. “Blood thick and dark seeps through the gaps between her fingers. “My - my -” He shifts the child and reaches for her, supporting her as she falls. Her head lies heavy on his shoulder, blood trickles down her lips.

“It’s fine - you will be fine.”

“My baby -” she mutters. “Our - baby.”

Notes:

I could only get half of it edited. Will post the rest soon. Finally - war is coming. I had enough of waiting - what about you?

Chapter 18: Shelter

Summary:

Regrets that are time bound.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Snow dusts over her fluttering lashes and her eyes grow distant. He feels her pulse faltering as her heart lies so close to his and the hand that clutches on his robe slips before he catches it in his warmer - larger hand.

“Should have -” she mutters. “Told -” When he moves to lift her she shakes her head vehemently. “No!” She croaks, “leave me - leave...”

“She can’t ride - Pyeha,” Chun says softly, watching them with worry. “Her grace would only get worse…”

He pays no heed to either of them, instead to the task at hand. Before he mounts he places her on the horse, where she tips over, cheek pressed against the mane. The stallion stands still, awaiting its master solemnly bearing her weight.

“Pyeha!”

“I will tie her to myself, to minimize the movement - and the child too. She can’t be treated here - neither of them will be safe here. I need to leave.”

“Your majesty -”

“Give me one night Chun - ah, I will return with the rest of the forces - hold on for one night, for me.”

Chun holds his gaze, drawing in a breath to hold his own nerves and nods clenching his jaw.

“I won’t fail you - your majesty.”

When he begins to ride her face is ghostly pale and her eyes are closed. Other than the faint movements of her shallow breathing he feels no movements from the body limp against his own. Snow blows on their faces and the temperature continues to drop.

“Consort Kang -” he calls her doubtfully. “Cousin? Hold on - hang in there.” She does not respond. The several folds of cloth that wraps around her tying her to him are drenched in blood.

“I’m slowing you down -” she says after a pause, her words choked and far in between. “Orabeoni…” she coughs and leans her head back on his shoulder. “It’s of no use.”

Jang Mi knows that the end is drawing nearer. There is a falter in her pulse that keeps growing and the blood loss is dulling her senses. Soon her heart would tire out and her senses have begun to shut off. She no longer sees even when her open eyes burn against the snow.

He freezes for a moment at the intimate address from an age gone, Jang Mi surprises herself when she finds it on the tip of her tongue. It has been an age since she called him so. They were never close, never allowed to be close. And she hopes - that one word would shatter any illusions he nurtures of her being the woman he once loved and he could be persuaded into being more rational and opting to give up on her. But his arm only tighten around her after a fraction of a second.

“Stop playing with me!” he hisses in her ear with a quiet fury that burns her.

“I’m not -” she wheezes. “I’m not Hae Soo…”

For once Hae Soo agrees, for she must die - she is not longer expecting to entrance him with any hopes.

“You’re my wife.” He says finitely.

“Hurts!” She groans through gritted teeth trying to ignore his reply. She knows she had given away a little too much in her fright - revealed her identity in an irretrievable manner. But she seeks to remedy that before the logic fails her. He must give up - she must make him. For if she lives - he dies.

She holds the thought for a moment knowing it is not her own. But then she is no longer certain who she is - Ha Jin - Jang Mi or Hae Soo. All that she knows is fear and pain and a darkness that looms closer and closer with each leap of their horse.

“Just a while more…” his voice is distant, drowned by the winds.

“Yes…” she breathes. “It won’t hurt for long - it will dull away - soon - soon.”

“Soo - yah!”

“No - not that - no - that is not my name.”

“Soo - don’t go.”

She smiles, the heat that seeps through his clothes is non existent, but his scent lingers in the back of her mind.

“I’ve never given up,” it gives her a strange closure to murmur those words, instead of writing them down in letters that resembled his too much. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I just couldn’t - hurts! It hurts!”

She is dimly aware of dismounting, of arms that carry her, of voices in the background. Suddenly sheltered from the storm outside she begins to shiver feverishly, her teeth clatter together. A soft hand rests on her forehead, a mild voice speaks.

“She doesn’t have enough blood to keep her temperature.”

Blindly she clutches at that hand and holds that stranger.

“My baby? Seol? Seol?”

“Lady Hae,” the soft voice laments. “She is quite alright, rest - rest now.”

“Who are you - where - where is my baby? Where is So?”

“Call his majesty!” The soft voice orders as it fades away.

His lips ghost over her brow. It is a touch that she would know from anywhere, of her skin brushing against his, the uneven lines of his scars under her palm.

 “So!” She gasps, burrowing into him. “Stay - stay.” There is an urgency in her tone, in her mouth that presses against him. “Stay - it won’t be long.”

He snatches her wandering hand and presses her knuckles to his mouth, holding it there, blowing warmth on her skin.

“No,” he hums. “Not today.”

“You came,” she sighs against his chest, drowning in his steady heartbeat. “You got the letters - I - I thought you wouldn’t come.” She swallows thickly. “I thought you hate me.” She feels his shudder before they press closer. He holds her head buried against him as his hands rub warmth into her skin.

“Don’t talk -” he says softly.

“No - I don’t have much time. You must know. That’s why I -”

“I know - I know already.” He murmurs in her ear, a soothing hand running down her back. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to steal her - she is yours - as much as mine. I just - I am afraid.” She chokes on her words. “Do you hate me?”

She sounds so insecure - hesitant and small that he hates himself. It is a chaos to think that she is there - in his arms, talking as if all the regrets heavy on his shoulders had never come about. So closes his eyes, trying not to think about that urn of ashes, nestled in her last prayer tower.

“I don’t.” He manages to utter.

Her hair spills over them as she shifts uncomfortably and he has to hold her to make sure she doesn’t pull the bandages. He smooths his palm over her shoulders. She is not as cold as she had been, still she shivers at his touch.

“Let me warm you - Soo - yah.”

She says no more and as she settles down to a fragile sleep, he eases her on her back, keeping an arm around her, and his fingers pressed to her pulse point - just so that he could make sure, she is alive.

Outside he could hear the sound of snow crushing under soles as his men gather. They would march at first light. Unaware and unperturbed she sleeps in his arms, pale and barely conscious. He was promised she would live - if this night passes and he would make sure that it will - no matter what it takes.

“You promised me -” he murmurs against her hair. “I haven’t allowed you to die yet.”

**

She wakes up heavy eyed into a hazy world. The view spins a little before it settles into a humble room, streaming with sunlight and a pair of large curious eyes staring down at her.

“Lady Hae?” Says the girl, in that same soft voice she heard before.

“His majesty?” She vaguely recalls his embrace from the night before and could still catch a trace of his scent on the blankets cocooning her. But - sinks her heart - he is nowhere to be seen.

“Imperial uncle rode to battle - I’m princess Gyeonghwa, how are you feeling now - lady Hae?”

Rode to battle? She processes it slowly, with a chill that shrouds her. And Geyonghwa - she eyes the teenage girl with wonder. The niece he was forced to marry. Does that mean - her eyes travel the room once more - that she was in a monastery?

“Kang -” she says slowly. “My name is Kang Jang Mi - your highness. I am grateful for your unbound kindness - but, how many days was I asleep?”

“Three.” Though a little puzzled the girl still replies and noticing the disappointment crossing her features add rather quickly. “Imperial uncle did not leave your side until you were out of danger. He - uh -” Gyeonghwa turns slightly pink. “He kept you warm - lady - Kang.”

“And the battle - what of the battle?”

The girl pauses and reaches out to squeeze her hand.

“I heard the Haes perished, but the Ryus have joined the uprising and Khitans are crossing in.”

“Ryus?”

“I heard my eighth uncle has married one of my aunts from the Ryus, and dowager queen Jeongdeok has a blood debt with imperial uncle - only they’ve kept it quite for so long.”

“Princess - please, what has happened?” She cuts across her musings desperate for coherent answers.

“The imperial forces are trapped between two armies of equal caliber.”

Notes:

I'll explain slowly in the future chapters - of Ryus and what interests they hold, especially the so called blood debt. This is the rest of the chapter I promised to post soon - as for the next installment it will take time. Sorry in advance. :-)

Chapter 19: Cards in the sleeve

Summary:

Scattered pawns decide the game.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She wakes up with a twisted conscious, her own entwined so finely with that of Jang Mi’s that she can no longer call herself Ha Jin - or Hae Soo. But a trace of nightmares, ridden with the pain from before, remains and reminds as the bitterness rolling over her tongue left behind by the concoction she forces down her throat - Jang Mi is no longer the enemy. Jang Mi would endure until she extracts her revenge from the real culprits that led her brother to his death. And she knows its not the emperor.

Gyeonghwa doesn’t understand but still allows her out of bed when she learns that her restlessness cannot be otherwise cured - allows her to pursue the old texts from the library of the monastery. She had spent two days going through strategies and battle records and fitful nightmares.

By the sunset of the fourth day, real news arrives. It comes in the form of lady Noh, ridding a weary horse and looking weather beaten. Her face is hard and her expression dark as she bows in greeting. Ha Jin only takes a moment of relief in knowing that she is safe. For she brings with her the shadows of uncertainty and a cold jade ring that burns in her outstretched palms.

 “Sea route?” She repeats blankly, once the old lady finishes her report. “His majesty wants me to - leave?” The smooth stone of the ring glitters in the setting sunlight. She has seen it before and knows by virtue the bearer of it could command the emperor’s subordinates anywhere. To trust such power on her - she finds herself distraught.

Lady Noh bows.

“I am under imperial command to get your grace and her highness the princess out of this place - before the Khitan forces breach the wall of Kangs.”

Her throat burns and she raises an unconscious hand to press there.

“Khitan awaits at the wall?” Lady Noh nods, but does not meet her eye. “What holds them?”

“The weather - a storm has them in a deadlock and the prince has demanded a duel instead of forces meeting in the open field.”

“A duel - with whom - his majesty? When he has the upper hand - why would he demand a duel? Why would his majesty agree?” Lady Noh pauses as she forms her words making Ha Jin agitated enough to rise from her seat for she knows the answer to her own question - he wishes to make an spectacle of his victory and earn himself the title of a king slayer. “This consort commands you - do not lie to me!”

“His majesty is pressed for time - the fourteenth prince is gravely injured. Without his aid - the scattered forces of Hae cannot be commanded and without them the Ryu forces cannot be held - there is no option of meeting in the open field for the time being.”

Ha Jin paces the room fiddling with her ice cold fingers. Is Jung really injured or is he dispatched on a secret mission elsewhere or - her heart trembles to ponder - or turned against the emperor.

“Your Grace - either way, this is no longer a place for a consort or a princess. Your grace must make haste and leave, once reaching Silla grand princess Nakrang would offer her protection - she is the older blood sister of his majesty and the closest of his remaining siblings, her loyalty is assured. With his majesty’s thumb ring your grace have the protection of the shadow forces.”

One of her hands is still pressed against her pulse point and she battles guilt and fury. Weather - she does not think so. For she knows the prince better than that - he takes joy in this - in prolonged anticipation. He is waiting for her. Waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her to return. Waiting for her to kneel - now that he holds the stronghold of her clan in his fist.

She thinks of the many maps they had gone through in that brief period of engagement, the many late night discussions of the plains and the rivers and the battles of yore. How to hide a force until one wishes to - he learned from her and brought the Ryus to her threshold. She sucks in a breath. Her blood boils.

But why duel a man who is far superior in martial arts - why stake it all on one trump card of the poison running through his system? No - it cannot be that simple - the prince she knew would not be so predictable. There is something else - something that stays his hand, pushes him to personally take action.  Makes him fear the loyalty of his own forces. The Ryus - Ryus - what is wrong with the Ryus?

“Does her highness the prince consort accompany the prince?” Lady Noh frowns at the abrupt question void of context, Ha Jin allows her to think it is petty jealousy for a man who was once pledged to marry her. Where did they marry - she ponders anew as she waits for the answer. In Khitan? Does that mean the princess of Ryu left with the prince - who accompanied her - the mother or the sister? “Lady Noh - has anybody seen the other Ryu princess - sister of the prince consort?”

Lady Noh shakes her head in the end. “Both sisters arrived from Khitan together, but nobody has seen them since.”

“Am I allowed to ride - your highness?” She asks finally, from the silent princess Gyeonghwa. She nods and Lady Noh stands up looking pleased.

“We have time to move slowly - and -”

She waves a hand.

“Lady Noh,” when she turns to the woman her eyes are hard yet she takes her hands warmly. “I leave my daughter in your hands for the time being.”

“Your grace -!”

“Take her to Silla -” she presses forward. “I won’t ask you to protect her with your life - you must live for her to survive. Stay safe and guard her well.”

“Your grace - please!”

“And before you go, there is a letter that you must dispatch for me - it is of utmost urgency that this letter reaches prince Beak Ah before nightfall.”

“Grand prince Anjong?”

“Yes - yes him,” leaving the hands of the older woman she clutches her own, closing her eyes for a moment. In the time gone lot of things had changed. “Use the shadows forces - or any means that you have,” she adds, clutching the cold ring in her hand. The fury that takes holds of her keeps burning, she tries to hold on to it. It is a fantasy of the prince to think of hunting her with her own traps and she would take pleasure in shattering it - piece by piece under her sole.

“And I must go to my lord husband.”

**

The snow swirls and licks him with tongues of frozen flames and his nostrils fill with the stench of blood. Jung takes time to open his eyes allowing each aching bone to account for itself. The pain - he had been taught is a good thing - for pain means that he is alive.

He had always known the Haes would not take his betrayal laying down and the arrival of Ryus had been unexpected. With his brows wrinkled he thinks of how harmless that subordinate of west forces had seemed before he had plunged a knife into his shoulder blade and slashed him across the lower abdomen. In the thick of the battle - he had not expected that. Jung thinks with a frown, he is still an amateur learning the art of being a traitor.  

A colder hand presses itself against his forehead, making his eyes snap open at the peculiar sensation. He blinks a few times before his vision clears itself.

“You’re alive,” speculates the stranger - a boy possibly in his early teens, wearing white fur and an expression that Jimong would sometimes wear while he polishes his handicrafts.  

“Get lost!” He hisses, too pained to actually shove him off. The boy looks at him incredulously.

“I saved your life - young master, you’d do better to watch your mouth.”

Slowly with his muscles aching from the effort, Jung sits up straight and looks around him at the scattered frozen corpses of fallen soldiers. The boy still lingers, like an overgrown white fox. Jung pulls out his dagger from where it is strapped at his ankle - the only weapon left on him and points it at the boy.

“Who are you?”

The boy snorts.

“As if you can manage to kill me - get on your feet first huh, we’ll talk later. Your army is finished either way, if you want to save your life you’d have to walk all the way to the Khitan camp.”

“Why would I -” Jung breaks off, thinking on his feet. Haes, he is wearing their colors. This little nut thinks he is one of their numbers. Of cause now that he looks - the little nut is indeed wearing the colors of the Khitan underneath the white fur. As the boy watches him thinking a slow smile curls his childish mouth.

“And perhaps I will accompany you.” He tells as if offering him a great service. Jung scowls.

“Where is the Khitan camp?”

“In the north of cause!”

His scowl deepens.

“Where is the north- where are we?”

 For some reason the jubilant expression on the boy’s face dims.

“How could I know…” he mumbles.

“Are you lost your self?” Jung curses. “Who lets kids ride to battle anyway?” He asks of no one in particular.

“Hay - I’m not a kid!” The boy protests angrily.

“Oh - and how old are you young master - twelve? Or is it thirteen?”

Jung hisses, sarcastically as he sticks the dagger in the snow and stands up with the help of it, clutching a hand at the cut on his abdomen. The boy does not reply, instead follows his limping trail, in the horizon scouts flying black are visible. The boy ducks behind him.

“Scum - they are back again!” his voice is muffled against Jung’s back.

Jung frowns, before reaching for his war horn. He is well aware of his own failing health to ascertain that he and the little nut would not make it by themselves. Plus if he is not very wrong the scouts are out looking for him.

The boy hits his shoulder - partly he had underestimated his strength and partly the little nut finds his injury to pound on, Jung bents forward groaning.

“Has your wound festered and made you go silly?” The boy asks reproach fully. “They are the emperor’s men you buffoon!”

The boy turns to run and it takes all his remaining energy to hold him down. The chaos attracts the scouts faster than the war horn would have. The boy curses like a sailor, some colorful words that Jung is sure are foreign - probably the tongue of Khitan. He twitches and kicks and yells like a lady.

“I saved your life!”

“Well you made a mistake -” He tells him, smirking despite himself. “Another reason why you are too young for the battle field.”

The hooves close in and stop.

“Your highness? Your highness - prince Jung?”

Suddenly the boy goes still and Jung sighs, straightening up, pulling his tally to confirm his identity. The men looks delighted and relieved, before dismounting to help him.

“And this is?” The scout frowns at the white fur ball.

“My squire - as useless as he is.” Jung says bitterly as two of the scouts pick up the kicking struggling boy. “Bring me to the emperor - I have a report to make.” He moves to follow the scout and stops for a moment to mutter in the boy’s ear.

“There debt settled. You’d do well to keep your mouth shut - if you want to live that is.” He takes joy in watching the ugly expression that crosses the still babyish face of the little nut and waves his hand. “No need to be gentle with him - he is in need of a few lessons.”

He chuckles in spite his pain.

“Urghhhhh!” The boy yells after him.

Notes:

I'm pressed with heavy work commitments at the moment and suffering from bad network - the rest of this chapter will take its sweet time to update. Sorry in advance!
PS: I had fun writing Jung and the little nut! :-) :-)

Chapter 20: Sheep skin

Summary:

She makes no claims of her heart.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

We are similar - you and I… her conscious hums with each step she takes down the deserted hallway. The winter hushes up the awaiting doom until the compound of Kangs is shrouded in silence. She leaves a trail of snow dusting off with each flicker of her cloak, swishing behind her. The walls are strangely made of stone - sturdy enough to bar both the winter and the war. Inside as she walks an occasional soldier who crosses her path stands at attention and bows - they are her father’s men - the thought is familiar as much as it is strange - men who owe her their allegiance before the monarch.

Then of cause there is Chun.

“Your grace,” there is guilt in his face, regret in his tone. “Are you quite well?”

“Very well, thank you,” she smiles at him. “I prayed for your safety in the field lord Park - and that of his majesty. You are his majesty’s right hand man.”
She makes a move to leave him with that, but he holds her back with more words, more worries.

“Your grace - you are not supposed to be here…” He sounds quite uncertain himself that one elegant eyebrow is enough to fluster his resolve.

“This is my home - Lord Park - whatever it is that you are implying?”

“There is a war outside, your grace.”

She sighs.

“I’ve noticed.”

“Your grace -” he calls after, head hanging low. “His majesty will not allow entry, he has refused the physicians as well.” He sounds like a child complaining to a mother and she fights the urge to laugh at his tone. There is worry darkening his features that soaks her spirits until heavy. “His majesty should be resting - we haven’t had a moment’s reprieve since the battle begun -”

Her brows knot and frown but she merely nods.

“I’ll see to it that his majesty rests well. Thank you, lord Park.”

It is then that she makes her way over, but her feet does not lead her to the emperor. Jang Mi’s motive is another. Her conscious continues to hum as she enters what are supposedly the chambers of Lord Kang’s daughter.

In that life you were betrayed by a friend, who robbed you of your life, I was betrayed by a friend too - who led me to sacrifice my fate…

In her hands the silk feels exotic, delicate and heavy at the same time. Each stitch of golden thread, each pearl, sewn in, by her own hands. Jang Mi thinks cynically of how naive she had been as she embroidered that wedding dress - a trousseau she would never wear.

Your friend used you. My friend used me. Your friend and the man you loved. My friend and the man I loved.

Her fingers trail over the peacock, at the seam of the skirt, the symbol of Kangs, in its golden glory - spreading out a fan of pearl scattered feathers - and twirling into clouds and flowers before the design entwined around tiger heads with vivid detailing in blue - the mark of Hwangbos.

Both of us are left with nothing. Both of us, cannot return to that life.

You became Hae Soo. You ran away. You choose to start anew.

But I cannot.

Her hand clutches a fist full of the delicate silk and allows the tears to fall.

I will not go. Instead I would chase her away. I would finish what she had started. I will take it all - the greed of which made her play this diabolical game with me - I shall have it all.

Forgive me - you do not deserve to be used. But neither did I. I have no other purpose - no other motive. I want the place that is hers and you shall take me there.

Let us bargain - your love, your child - my ambition, my revenge. You shall have it all and so shall I.

Who was it? Ha Jin asks desperately as the voice of her conscience dies out, leaving her head buzzing with ideas that are not her own. Who was the friend that betrayed you? The princess of Ryus? The eighth prince? The hatred she feels is venomous and faceless, Jang Mi does not bother to explain, instead lays out her wedding dress with careful fingers and smooths away creases on the delicate silk. Her finger tip traces the tiger once more and thinks of the man who had played her on his palm while planning marriage to his half sister all along.

Why should I fight your wars if it is she who sits on your throne? Tonight I’ll rid the last of threads that bind me to you. She thinks bitterly.

“Your grace?” It’s Eun Mi, approaching her rather cautiously. Her eyes are full of appreciation as they travel the excessively beautiful embroidery. “It looks elegant - your grace! I’ve never seen double sided embroidery before.”

A dry chuckle bubbles out of her lips, as she trails an unconscious hand over the precious stones.

“Yes -” she says. “Too precious not to wear once - before burning once and for all.”

“Burning your grace?” The young girl frowns, rendered speechless by her skepticism.

“Help me dress,” she says rising, ignoring the question.

Tonight I give the last of me and wear your guise forever.

The war has begun.

**

The torches wave like overgrown fireflies in the pitch black night. Yeon Hwa clutches her cloak tighter and sucks in a breath. The winter is dry and void of snow, unlike the reports of North that keeps her awake at ungodly hours. The flickering light of the torches cast distorted shadows of her retinue on the cave walls - the queen and her two closest companions as they slowly move forward.

“Your majesty,” the older woman, her court lady since young speaks in hushed tones. “We could still turn back.”

“Silence,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “I will not have second thoughts. The crown prince must live!”

“But Wanghu mama -”

She turns and scowls, the ice of her glare freezing the woman on her spot. The younger court lady, who trembles and makes the torch light dazzle as a result takes a cautious step backwards.

She makes sure to scald them with her glare long enough for them to feel its heat before smiling rather sweetly, her cheeks digging into dimples and eyes flashing. The older woman starts to tremble as well. Queen Demok is still young and beautiful enough to justify all the sonnets in her name, still there is an edge to her beauty that makes one shiver, cower and yield. And most dangerously, she knows it very well.

“Follow me!” She says no more as she turns on her heel and marches on, until they reach a clearing, where the cave widens enough into a room, lit with candles, and rippling shadows of light reflected by the water. There a woman kneels, her dark robes half soaking in water that pools in the cave but she cares nothing of that matter.

“Your majesty, my queen -!”

“Is it done?” Yeon Hwa waves away the greeting, instead her eyes roam around taking in the talismans that hang from the walls, more that are written on the cave walls and the floor.

The woman - a shaman - rises to her feet slowly.

“In a moment - your majesty,” she replies as she burns a talisman on candle flame, swirls of red smoke rise in sync with her words. “A life will be tied with a life - one shall live - one shall die.”

Yeon Hwa heaves a sigh as the woman closes her eyes muttering under her breath as she burns another talisman.

“Mama -” the old court lady mumbles beside Yeon Hwa. “This is treason -”

“A father who dares to kill his son should hope for no less -” Snaps Yeon Hwa. “I want his life in exchange of my son’s. There is no other way for Hyohwa to live.”

“But - but - didn’t she say, his majesty’s star is too bright. If this backfires - god forbid if it does - your majesty will -”

“Lose it all -” the shaman completes the words of the old court lady. Her eyes still closed. “It is so, turning the wheel of fortune has its detriment, what rises falls - and rises again. But your brother will not die - tomorrow.”

Yeon Hwa allows her lips to curl, more than that she does not ease her heart. After all, there is a limit to her trust in all that is unseen.

“Do it.” She says, finitely.

The last talisman burns into red smoke and the shaman bows.

“It is done - by the sunrise this nation shall have only one sun.”

 

**

He peels off the last blood soaked layer with a groan to reveal the bleeding shoulder. The blade that had run through had rendered the plates of armor useless. So casts them away with a grimace. Before reaching for the jug of water - still mildly warm - with the intention of chugging it over his head.

“Don’t -!” His arm freezes mid - movement at the abrupt voice. Knowing full well who it is, he does not bother to turn around. When explicit instructions had been given, no one but mistress of the compound of Kangs would dare enter.

“Excessive water festers wounds,” she explains as her fingers replace his on the jug. “Allow me - your majesty.”

Her palm is warm on his sweat drenched back, a touch so soft that makes him shiver and recoil at the sense of vulnerability it invokes. A moment passes in silence in which - he imagines - she notices the scars strewed across his back, her sigh is almost inaudible against the pounding of his own heart.

“The cut is shallow - a broken sword? Any deeper your majesty would have need stitches. It is extremely foolish not to get a physician’s opinion.” She keeps talking, her tone light almost indifferent as she presses a soaked rug on the streaks of dried blood staining his biceps, rubbing them away, her breath fanning the nape of his neck. His throat tightens at her proximity and he turns his face away.

“What makes you think I would pardon you for disregarding my decree - consort Kang?” He asks gruffly.

“I never received such decree,” she replies. “May lord husband forgive. ” There is no regret in her tone, no fear - instead she continues to tend to his shoulder, making light comments about what herbs to be used, what broths to be boiled. She keeps talking until he hears no coherent words but a hum of her soft voice buzzing in his head.

His fingers hold hers still, so does his gaze when he turns around.

“There is no need of this charade - it will be over tomorrow,” he waits for her eyes to falter and continues when they do not. “Decrees of impostors have no value - I am certain you could reach some sort of -”

“I will bow to no other king,” she cuts him off abruptly. “Whatever tomorrow may bring - I’ve made my choice.”

His eyes sweep over her face, and slowly trail off - taking note of the exquisite dress that she wears, the dazzle of its reds and blues and the glittering threads of gold.  

“The only decree that I received was the one proclaiming that I was to be the emperor’s woman -” she speaks slowly, giving him time to comprehend each word. “And that I have accepted - your majesty may choose now that I am here - to accept or reject your bride.”

“Is this you closing your eyes and letting the fate take its course?” He asks slowly, half in wonder, phrasing her own words from yore back towards her. “For a woman who had made up her mind you talk too much - cousin.”

She blinks, her throat suddenly too dry to swallow her words.

“I’m afraid.” She admits softly and fiddles with her own trembling fingers. “I - I don’t know what to expect - I -”

His hands are much larger when they grasp hers, warm calloused fingers entwining with her own.

“Stop pretending,” his voice is quiet. “I know who you are.”

“Hae Soo?” She chuckles. “I’ve forgotten how to be her - I’ve forgotten a lot of things.” It feels easy to confess, when she doesn’t have to hold his gaze. Even though his breath fans her face and he is closer than he had been in a while. It feels like ridding herself of a weight.

“I shall remind you,” he breathes against her ear, making her shiver at the peculiar sensation. “Every single thing.”

“I’m not her -” her voice shudders, trailing off into a whisper when she looks up at him.

“To me you are,” his insistence begins to wear her down, his arms snake around her waist. “I’ve tried to deny it before - I’m too exhausted.” As abruptly as he held her, he moves away. “Go - cousin, leave!”

“Your majesty -”

“Don’t jest with dying men - leave,” he pauses and draws in a tattered breath. “If you don’t leave now - I will destroy that identity of yours. I’ll turn you into her - in every possible way. There is nothing I cannot do if it is to get her back - you know nothing of my greed. Go - unless you want to lose what is left of yourself.”

He does not move or address that fact that she is so afraid that she finds it hard to form words. What does it mean? What would it feel like to lose herself? Jang Mi shudders and her heart twists.

It is too hurtful to give oneself to a man who would love her but never love her in the real sense. But to that last breath he had been fair - the door was open - there was no ensnaring trap, no sugar coated words. She was in no trance - under no compulsion. It was she who wanted him, wanted him like a drug - fuel to her ambition - reason to survive.

The door was open. It was she who did not leave.

Her hand trembles before reaching out - resting on his shoulder - a touch that trembles - a step that falters.

“Make me yours and I shall lose myself willingly.”

Heedlessly she heeds the call of void and jumps into the abyss.

“I am yours - body and soul.”

And she makes no claims of her heart.

Notes:

This chapter has one more part to go. I will post it soonest possible. Do share your thoughts - as ever, I'm keen to know! :-)

Chapter 21: Talisman

Summary:

She loves him to her own detriment.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“You’re freezing.”

Her eyes snap into his as he rests a warm palm on her cheek. True enough, she is cold under all those exotic layers. The chill originates at the very center of her soul, spreading throughout until her lips tremble. The memories of two souls are too heavy a burden to bear - regret and resentment and guilt choking her breath as she looks up at him.

“There’s a storm outside,” she says, trying to focus on her words instead of his fingers trailing across her cheek towards her hair, threading through their luster, picking off an occasional pin that fastens her coiffure. He purses his lips at her words, looking displeased - his fingers stop their work as he pauses to think.

“You came on horseback?”

She nods, looking down at her hands, unsure where to put them she fiddles with her fingers. It has been too long that she had not been lying when she said she had forgotten what it meant to be Hae Soo - too long that her nerves are on fire, each so finely tuned to his movements that each of his exhales make her shudder in anticipation. It has never been so highlighted, she had never felt so much at the same time found herself so utterly helpless.

“Let me ask you something,” he says slowly. “I’ve always wondered. If you did not mean the things you said -” he pauses and swallows as if she had placed something bitter on his tongue. “Things you said back then - why did you leave? Why write letters from far when we could have talked things over - when I could have - surely - surely you didn’t believe I’d abandon you?”

“I was afraid -” her voice trembles so much that she fears he makes no sense of her words. But still, her gaze is so heavy that she cannot raise it from her hands, dare to steal a look at his expression. “We were together but the distance was growing. You were going to a place where I couldn’t follow. I was afraid that you would start to hate me someday…for I couldn’t change and become the person you wanted. I was afraid you’d get exhausted protecting me every time - someday you’ll get sick of me - someday you’d see me as a burden - I - I couldn’t -”

His fingers dig under her cheekbones bringing her gaze to meet his with insistence - she chokes on her words.

“People change - feelings change. I was greedy - I didn’t want us to end like that - I - people get tired of me easily -” I don’t know how to please them - I don’t know how to love. She swallows the last of her words, the worst of her fears.

“Why come now?” He asks abruptly and she notices his lips are still pursed into that thin crooked line of displeasure.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone…” she tries to smile, but it feels so artificial that her muscles hurt. She tries anyway. “I’ve made peace with it - with that fear of mine - someday when - if - you don’t want me anymore I’d just -”

“Go?” his hold on her is so tight that tears trickle down her eyes. “Leave me again and go?” His voice is low and dangerously so, as his eyes bore into hers. “Who on earth has given you the right to break me apart over and over again?”

“I won’t go…” She mutters. “Not unless you chase me away.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You are not allowed to leave even then,” his fingers rake her face with a greed that burns in her veins.He pauses a breath away from her lips. “No - because you are mine - selfishly, thoughtlessly - utterly mine…”

She expects pain - expects him to return all the hurt she had ever caused, the last breath that escapes her parted lips is shuddered and hushed before his mouth descends on hers.

Ever so gently his lips caress hers, his tongue running along the edge of her mouth before plunging in, making her sigh, her senses filling with his breath, his taste, his thoughts. His hands leave her face, trail down her throat - fan over her shoulders and smooth down her arms, to entwine with those trembling fingers, rising them and placing her palms on his chest.

She shudders at the contact, at the intensity of need that flares through her when they break apart. The mere touch of her fingertips brushing against him, makes her insides coil - tighter and tighter until she has to gasp and catch her breath. His eyes are darker, hooded with desire and his fingers encircle her wrists, slide over to caress the sensitive skin on her forearms with a thumb.

“Touch me,” he says.

Beneath her palm, his heart skips a beat when she moves - ever so slightly - tips of her fingers brushing across the jagged edge of a scar running underneath his collar bone. Down she trails her fingers, stopping only when he draws in a sharp breath.

It is against the palace protocol - she remembers abruptly. No woman - not even the queen, could touch the monarch so freely. Not even the queen could remove the middle robe. There is no skin on skin contact - no king would make themselves so vulnerable in front of another person.

“I’m…” she trails off, drowning in his eyes when he moves closer, removing the last ornament from her hair that the coils tumble down, caressing her cheeks, framing her face, easing her scalp of the burden.

“Forget the protocol,” he breaths in her ear nipping gently at the soft flesh there, fingers trailing down her nape. “I need to feel you.”

“So…” his name spills from her lips in a thoughtless frenzy as she draws him closer, unfastening his hair, with fumbling fingers. He kisses her lightly below the ear, and traces a path down with his mouth tasting the soft expense of her throat, making her hiss at the occasional graze of his teeth. “Ah..!”

The silk rustles when she slips out of her outer robe, it pools at her feet, trapping her momentarily. His fingers work on the intricate ribbons that holds her skirt and pauses, regarding her thoughtfully, a hand on her midriff.

“Your injuries -?”

She rests a hand on his, eyes seeking as she replies.

“I’m fine.”

His hand runs down her spine, drawing her closer. There is warmth in his eyes that overwhelms her.

“It will hurt -”

“I’m fine,” she says a little more firmly. “I’ll be fine - it’s you - you are with me.”
The need that burns her - she could hardly bear anymore. The distance he keeps between them, she crosses it herself, hands on his back tracing each raised line of imperfection down his spine. That last layer - he removes it slowly, allowing it to slide down her body. The first touch of his palms on her skin makes her shudder, goosebumps dotting the trail that he explores. His fingers pause on the first jagged edge he finds on her back and her breath hitches.

Slowly, he feels for more and finds another - another and more. She winces when he reaches a particularly raw spot.

“Your majesty -”

He spins her around, cutting off her words abruptly. Spins her so that her back faces him, her back with those unseemly scars.

“They whipped you?”

He remembers that night when she had rescued Seol - remembers her bare feet and the welts on her wrists. He had not noticed it then, she had been too injured to begin with. His orders had been clear enough, not to touch her apparently it had not been so.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not your majesty’s people - it’s -” she swallows, thinking of Ah Ri and her father. It was nothing new. “It’s -”

He walks around and stands facing her. She clutches at the untied layer of clothing, until her knuckles turn white. His hand cups that fist, rubbing over her knuckles gently.

“Let me see.” She doesn’t move. His hands are gentle but ever so insistent. She shakes her head, trying to step away, but they are on her back, running soothingly along her spine. His head ducked and breath ghosting over her bare shoulder. “Let me see…” he presses a tender kiss there, making her shudder.

Her grip falters and the silk slithers away. He makes no comment when she cowers against his broader frame, instead presses her closer and lifts her so that he could carry her to lay down on the bed.

He is too mindful of her injuries, as he lowers her to the pillows, adjusting them so that she doesn’t pull at her bandages. She watches him cautiously as his eyes drink her in she raises a hesitant hand that hangs in the mid - air, suddenly unsure to touch. He takes it and presses a kiss on her wrist, before lowering himself beside her.

“You are beautiful - as always.”

She closes her eyes as their lips meet, a faint trace of moisture clinging to her lashes. He kisses her with more urgency, tasting and exploring, and she sighs her own hands failing to draw him as closer as she desires.

No one has treated her with such gentleness, no one had called her beautiful before -so genuinely - so intimately.

They fit like two pieces of the same puzzle, his hard planes against her soft curves. He flips them around, lying underneath her as she gasps in surprise.

“Take the lead,” he tells her, his hands on her hips. “I’m yours.”

“I -” her cheeks burn, she does not dare move. “I don’t know - how -”

He kisses her again, softly, guiding her hands over himself. She allows him - to guide her, move her as he wishes. But then she learns how the simplest of her touches makes his heart skip. And she seeks out his sensitive spots, brushing her lips over them, tasting the salt of his skin, shivering in turn at his callous hands kneading her softness.

There is a fire under her skin that he keeps stroking, kissing her mercilessly, sparing no inch of her skin, until she is aflame with mindless want, withering, gasping, clutching at him. His mouth closes over one of her taut nipples and heat pools at the pit of her stomach.

“Pyeha - please -” she is unsure of what she begs for, but she aches for it. She needs him desperately - the closer he gets, closer she wishes to draw him and he caresses her right where she aches, setting fire to the ends of her nerves.

“Call my name -” his tone makes her insides curl with delicious tension.

“So - So…oh!”

Stars burst behind her close eyelids and he smooths kisses over them, nipping at her throat and pressing his lips on her jaws over and over again until her heartbeat calms, and her eyes flutter open. She caresses his face and he kisses that palm, moving over to take a tear that escapes her eyes between his lips.

“I want you -” she gasps, “So - I -”

He says nothing, fingers digging into her hips, as he guides her. She tastes the salt on his lips and he swallows her gasp of pain, running a soothing hand over her spine, he kisses her tenderly as he moves to sheath himself in her warmth. He takes her deep and slow, prolonging their pleasure, wanting to feel her more anything else. Breaking their kiss he buries his head in the crook of her neck and allows a groan to vibrate against her glistening throat, falling freely at the pinnacle of pleasure. She is real - warm and soft in his arms, her taste lingering on his tongue and her breath singing in his ears.

“My king -” her lips trail down his face ardently, reverently. “My love…my So…”

“Yes -” he murmurs adoringly. “Yours - always, yours.”

But then, she speaks no more - her head lies heavily on his shoulder and her heart beats erratically against his.

“Soo - yah?” She does not reply, he pulls away to look at her questioningly. Her lips are slightly parted and her complexion ghostly white. Fear, coils inside him. “Soo -?”

Cold - she is still icy cold, even though her skin had been burning a moment before. He lowers her to the pillows and taps her cheek gently. Her lashes flutter, without opening and her lips move. He presses his ear against them to listen to the faintest of her whispers.

“Talisman -” she murmurs. “I’m - your - talisman. Won’t let you die. Won’t - my So - my - mine.”

“Soo - yah!”

As he watches blood trickles down her nose, forbiddingly dark against her milky complexion.

“Pye - ha…”

Notes:

There may be slight mistakes, I'm worn out after a long travel and sleep deprived, please ignore them for now. Will correct once I return home. The long chapter finally ends. Do share your views, I'm always eager to know! :-)

Chapter 22: Foes of Foe

Summary:

They may not be friends still a common flag rallies them.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She is full of broken promises - a storm full of cutting winds that each encounter leaves him bleeding anew. And every time he prays for just another moment with her. Every time he makes peace with his broken pieces. Every time, he rejoices that they are under the same sky.

The small white hand resting limply on his palm, cold as her heart, he caresses it with a finger tip. A gentle caress that is so full of greed that he finds it hard to breath. He had fallen in love with such a hurtful creature and knowing so, still he seeks to hurt himself on her sharp edges - yearns to kiss her thorns.

There is a faint flutter of pulse beneath her skin, he presses his fingers there, as if to grasp her life line and speaks indifferently, as if his heart is not breaking. She is not his only bane.

“Bring me consort Kang’s shadow - I need to know everything she had done since recovering her consciousness -” he pauses, giving the head eunuch a meaningful glance. “Now!”

“Spies will not be needed,” a new voice - one that he had not heard in a while, speaks from just outside the threshold. Even before he turns, he knows that familiar dialect picked up from the travelers. “Imperial brother,” says Baek Ah, dusting off snow from his travel worn shoulders before performing a bow.

Time - he realizes, had healed very little of their wounds. There is a bitter note to his brother’s smile, an imposed distance in the way he handles himself. Respect - perhaps, but no affection. As he rises from her bedside, the night seems like a walk over thorns - a cluster of painful recollections. He nods at Baek Ah. But the latter has no eyes for him for a moment, instead his eyes remain upon her white face, mildly surprised and a lot more thoughtful.

“This is lady Kang?” He speaks softly. “Remarkable…”

“You were informed -?”

“I heard intriguing things,” Baek Ah tilts his head and takes a tightly wound scroll from his sleeve. “This is the most intriguing of all…”

His brows wrinkle as he takes in the penmanship very much like his own, each stroke of brush so hauntingly familiar that for a moment he pauses to recall ever writing those words. They do not belong to him. “This rose of yours is vicious, imperial brother. I’m merely her messenger.”

The letter is after all addressed to him, in his own writing. In his hands it feels ominous - as if a foreshadowing of another separation.

Do you remember the night Pat Pat burned? You owned my life since then. It is so hurtful of me to have forgotten that. So hurtful of me to steal your love, use her as a weapon against you. I’ve been blind, I’ve been cruel. And I am so very jealous of her for I’ve never been in love. And now it is too late to put it right for she is me and I am her. She would never be that pure hearted girl you loved - for my soul has tainted her. But there are other things I can repair. Other things I must repent for. I brought this war - it is I who should pay its price. It is cruel of me to make use of you for that. But I have no choice - I will not have your death on my conscious. Forgive me - for I must steal this one night, you may have all of my life in exchange.

He stops at that, heart wrenching painfully, and looks at Baek Ah.  

“What has she done?”   

**

The north winds are harsh and frosty, it agitates the horses and whips against the fur they wear. As they slow down against the backlash of the wintry wind lady Noh looks at her once more.

“Your grace - this is not safe - you are -”

“They will curse the emperor tonight -” her teeth clatter against one another. “I will not take that chance.”
”But - your grace how can you be certain?”

She says nothing, her lips curl bitterly. It is she who had arranged it, she thinks ever so darkly. It is not something she would share with lady Noh - the tales of her foolish, fantasies of loving a man who could understand complex schemes of her mind. At least his intelligence - she notes - had not been a deceit. Instead, he had perhaps been far more wiser than she ever imagined, more cunning and more manipulative that he could make such a mockery of her. She had never been anything more than a weapon. Perhaps it is time for him to learn of her sharpness himself.  

“You may set off for Silla once I reach the mountain top - lady Noh. The astronomer will send me off.” She says instead and wonders briefly what this meeting would be like - the older man had influenced her fate more than once. But ironically his own life is no better - banished to the isolation of the desolated temple she wonders if Choi Ji Mong regrets his choices. Gathering her fur tighter around her shoulders she steps inside, in search of the man who had once crushed all her expectations of a happy ending. What of my star now - she wants to ask him - would it suffice?

His eyes are lighter - waned with age, but the spark of recognition is ever so bright. The man puts down the weathered scroll he had been pursuing with unconscious hands.

“It is you -” he says slowly.

She holds his gaze for a moment, reining in the urge to laugh at the expression that crosses his face. It seems cruel to torment the man - but she feels a flicker of glee at prolonging her explanation. They were never bosom friends - with Jang Mi’s inclinations they may never be.

“Something is different -” the older man mutters.

“I’m not her.” She tells him shortly.

“What kind of a dark magic did you -” his tone is accusatory as he closes in.

“A blood charm - but it is none of your concern -”

“How could you - who did you use - so greedy -”

She closes her eyes and breathes in sharply.

“They are going to kill his majesty - tonight.”
That effectively silences the man who is still frowning.

“His majesty does not wish to see me,” he says after a moment. “I’ve been expressly ordered - commanded - not to -”

“Astronomer Choi - I would not have come here if I am to turn around. Can you or can you not counter such curse?”

“Perhaps - but it takes time.”

She allows the silence to drag on, allows the man to scrutinize her features.

“I never wished for you to die,” he says softly. “I’ve caused you pain - but I -”

“You wanted me away from him,” she amuses herself with how dry her words sound. How indifferent she feels of her heartbreak. “I’m not leaving him again. Neither am I losing him and if you ever - ever felt a flicker of guilt - you will help me.”

“Why would they curse his majesty - I’ve heard the battle is tilting in their favor.”

“The eighth prince is always concerned with his image - he wants to be a benevolent king in the hearts of people. Already his so called movement is frowned upon - by challenging to a duel - talking of saving armies - he is winning hearts. But if it is his opponent who does not honor their agreement - it will give him a good cause to take up arms. We do not have time.”

“Then we have to divert,” he tells her. “It has a price.”

“Everything does.” Her tone is bitter. “Tell me how to become his talisman.”

Ji Mong does not reply immediately, instead he watches her with squinted eyes.

“And what if I fail?”

“Still his majesty will live - and win.”

“How can you be certain of victory?”

“I’m a Kang - astronomer, war is in my blood. By sunrise the nemesis will have no forces.”
**

His heart feels stuffy, as if something bad he is unaware of is happening. Wook wipes his eyes and stands up from the side of the bonfire. The flames licking up on logs make him uneasy. He inhales sharply and recounts once more. It had been timed well. Everything was going smoothly - too smoothly.

It was hard to convince the Ryus once they had started on the path of revenge. He had no option but to strike at their roots to take the reins into his hands. Only for the sake of their daughter’s protection would they stop. He had staged it well - convincing them that his wife the princess of Ryus was in the emperor’s captivity when in reality she has been escorted to safety along with her sister.

Only - he thinks with unease. He should hear back from them by now. The silence bothered him. He muses if Yeon Hwa had executed her part of the bargain - the details neither Khitan not the Ryus knew of. It was not just his might or the men that he wished to engage in battle. Truly - horned by his experience and her meticulous thinking - Jang Mi had come up with a exquisite plan. Pity for her to forget it - pity for him to lose her. She was an asset of value - perhaps - he thinks darkly - he is still not too late. Jang Mi that he knew of is too selfish to be truly loyal to a man - any man - even the son of heavens.

A Gisaeng laughs too loud at some joke the Khitan commander had made and the waves of cackling that follows breaks his thoughts. Wook frowns, the men were making merry to hard for his liking. The entertainers fawning over the battle hardened men, too colorful and bright for his liking. He retreats into a darker corner and scowls further trying to suppress the discomfort knotting beneath his ribs as a scout approaches him.

He gestures the man to speak, watching the spectacle by the bonfire. The commander of the Khitan army, a son of a prince - drains his wine before beaming at him.

“Your majesty,” he says with an exaggerated bow.   

“Your highness,” the scout hesitates and Wook tears his eyes away to focus on him.

“Yes. Did princess consort reach safely?” He asks in a low tone.

“Your highness -” the man does not raise his eyes to look at his inquiring gaze. “Her highness - her highness the princess consort -”

“What of her?” Wook grows impatient and the discomfort almost chokes his breath. “What of her?”

“Sire - the men guarding her has all perished. There is no sign of either princesses.”
His ears ring, slowly Wook pinches the bridge of his nose, where a throbbing starts.

“What do you mean?”

“The princess consort is gone - your highness.”

Notes:

Again the first part of a long chapter. I'll return with the next part. On a different note, do forgive the delays these days. My schedule is air tight when we reach the end of the year. Still I try to keep updating at least once a week, it saddens me but I have no option.
Do share your thoughts - they do inspire faster updates! ;-)

Chapter 23: Spark

Summary:

It takes a little to start a fire.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Delicate things are the deadliest - her father had said once. He made it sound so casual, merely heard over the clatter of chopsticks and the chatter of his men. But his eyes rest on her with a weight she cannot shake off and she knows - she was raised to be a weapon before a person. A wandering monk had predicted she had the destiny of a man - of blood, war and power. That was the meaning Kang Shin made of it; he never wanted a daughter anyway. Especially not if it demanded the life of his wife in return - of so many sons he could have had - had she lived.

He had a wicked way of achieving what he wanted for the twisted man that he was. He believes he knows what he is doing - though she knows he does not. It is not him that made the prince of Kangs the horror that he was - Jang Mi had seen the battle hardened man who sneaks him away at times - but her father, haughty as he is - believes differently.

She keeps his secret to her own detriment. At least that - she thinks - warrants her call for help.

Of cause the logic had only occurred to her much later, in the safety of the walls of her ancestors. There, stranded on the dry lands of late autumn, freezing just as the sun vanishes behind the mountains, her mind had been entirely blank.

She should have known - she thinks - breath rising in mist that blurs her vision. Her brothers never intended to hunt. It was more of a well staged assassination and she was only hindering them. Older brother Seo Kyeong was not there - had he been, the rest of brothers - step brothers - she corrects herself - would not have dared to take it too far. Brother Seo Kyeong was too far to come for her aid anyway and those sons of Ah Ri had never been too fond of her.

They were merely gathering the wolves, chasing them towards one specific, unsuspecting target - an injured kid would only slow them down.

“Why don’t you run along and go home?” They make it sound so easy, as if they don’t know that the trail of blood she leaves by dragging her foot - limping her way back - would only call the wolves. It is what lingers in the backs of their heads, the worry that they would mess up their little trick - she could very well see it in the dark looks they share.

“My father will kill you!” She screams at them, with all the vigor of a nine year old. And the brothers - step brothers - laugh. “Brother Seo Kyeong will kill each of you!”

The closest horse neighs and stands on its hind legs - the one that had thrown her down - it only makes her scream and scoot back and they laugh harder.
”You can’t ride. None of us can walk you home - either you go, or wait here for us.”

“The brat -!” They chuckle as the gallop away. “Serves her right.”
She thinks little of them, limping away from the clearing. The revenge she will plan later and savor it when they fall at her feet - for that she must survive first. The sharp pain running along her shin does not help the matters. On her ankle where the jaws of a rabbit trap had closed over her foot, is a hole that keeps bleeding - she could barely feel her toes.

A wolf howls - howls again - closer that she hears the rustle of twigs under its paws; it howls again. And She begins to run.

**

The little white hand clutches a fist full of blankets and her brows frown in sleep. Blood trickles afresh from her nose and her complexion turns whiter.

“Wolves…” her lips move and a ragged breath rattles her frame. She reaches out and grasps his wrist ever so suddenly. “Orabeoni -!”

Court lady Han spills a little water as her hands tremble with the rag that she soaks to wipe her brow. Her eyes widening in alarm. The emperor however, remains unfazed at her incriminatingly intimate address. Instead, he holds out his other hand to take that dump cloth.

“You may leave,” his voice is quiet.

Eun Mi bows hastily and scuffles off, one last worried look stolen at the ailing consort. Her knuckles turn white with the strength of her grip and her lips part in a silent scream. “Please - don’t go…”

The nightmare - he had been told - is thousand times darker and terrifying than the real memory of her fear. Silently - he curses Ji Mong - it is all but an experiment to that old man - so easy to say that it is entirely her lot to fight her fear. The curse differs from person to person - and its outcome too - differs.

“Is she in pain?” He had asked, trying to rein in his temper. Baek Ah, who brings words from the old man does not reply for a moment. He takes the hesitation as his answer. “How much?” He asks, clenching his jaw.

Baek Ah shakes his head and shrugs.

“She is not Soo - you do know that - don’t you, brother?” he looks at him with pity and hardly concealed displeasure. “Soo is -”

Gone… He gestures for silence before the wretched word escapes his lips. Baek Ah watches him cautiously. There are words that he cannot rely. Words that would only invoke the emperor’s wrath. But he struggles to put them to the back of his mind, the words Ji Mong had spoken to caution him.

“Don’t take instructions from her -”

“What -”

“Your highness I mean it - have you heeded her plans for anything involving this battle?” Baek Ah fidgets, under the all seeing eyes of the older man. He sighs. “You have… What have you done?”

“She means to help,” he says uneasily. “She means to save him.”

The older man shakes his head.

“There is blood in her hands - blood, war, destruction. She will change the path of everything - its no good. No good!”

“Ji Mong - aren’t you over reacting - you helped her yourself!”

 “I had no choice - his majesty must live.”

Baek Ah’s smile dims, his expression frozen.

“You mean to let her die?”

“You don’t understand - its no good - she will erase the names of kings to come - it’s no good - she is no good. God forbid if she conceives a child - conceives one now - all will be lost! A child conceived on blood and battle..!”

“Tell Ji Mong -” the emperor’s voice recalls him from the memory of that tense conversation. “To make peace with his Gods.”

“Imperial brother!”

“I will not spare him - if she does not wake up.”

He thinks of Baek Ah’s expression, the flicker of fear that he had seen in his eyes. He wonders what Ji Mong had filled his ears with and is distracted for a moment. He thinks of her letter - of her twisted words that bleed of pain and darkness.

It is no sacrifice - no. It is a bargain I’ve made with heavens, for I wish to go against them - crush the fate they’ve written for me with my bare hands. I wish to ruin the woman who calls herself my friend, I thirst for the blood of the man who fooled me into loving him. They killed brother Seo Kyeong and they must pay for it. And I stake my life on the curse they’ve placed upon you. I place the decision on tomorrow’s duel, the last choice I leave upon the heavens. If you win - if the curse fails - and I wake, I would take it as them accepting my bargain, approving my revenge. If they do not - if indeed you are cursed to fail and I’ve failed to defy that curse, I’ll take it as the heavens after all blesses the sinners. And I shall follow you, lord husband, into the netherworld.

We are meant to be together for better or for worse. It will probably be worse, I knew it the day Pat Pat burned. 

Still we shall survive - you and I... or perish together.  

**

He is not some demon as they make him out to be - nor a beast of wild inhumane ways. He is just a boy, fifteen and awkwardly tall, his frame yet to fill with flesh and harden with battle. He carries her - one of his tormentors - on his shoulders - without a bargain, without a price. She clutches at him, her fists full of rags that he wear, head buried on his back, and eyes squeezed shut. His cloak is wrapped around her, threadbare as it is. It smells like him - of pine wood and dry grass and autumn and it comforts her strangely, in a way her father’s embrace never does. They had planned to set the wolves on him and she had unwittingly joined in - even when he says that he will kill her himself if she does not stop whining, she can’t find it in her to hold a grudge - not when he chooses to carry her, instead of leaving her behind as a offering to appease the beasts that chase after him.

Unlike those brothers of hers.

When she calls him Orabeoni - she means it - despite everything her father had ever taught. And with that, she secures his protection, unknowingly. The only Kang to have ever accepted him as something more than an animal - a brother - the first of them to call him that - he would not have allowed a scratch on her, if it is in his power.

“Let go,” he says gruffly, “get on the tree!”

“Can’t -” she protests when he pushes her up, hoisting her so that she could hang by one of the high branches and swing herself up. It comes as natural as breathing, after all they were children of the wild. “Don’t go! Don’t -”

The wolves are no longer howls in the darkness, but ghostly eyes that blink upon them, glowing with hunger. They are too many, closing in, she could hear them pant, scratch the ground - prowling - waiting -

“Don’t go…!” She clutches at his neck, face white and eyes wide. Clutches at him and refuses to let go. He tries his best to wrench her away, but she has a grip as strong as her will - or he lets her believe that.

“Are you a monkey?” His tone is exasperated. “Stop strangling me!”

“I don’t want to die…” she says, trying to swallow the knot in her throat. “I don’t want to die.”

“Get down!” He says abruptly and he crouches at the same time, allowing her to ease off his back.

“What are you going to do?” She asks him in a small voice. There is still a little possibility that she entertains, of him leaving her in the claws of the wolves. Instead however, he kneels to look into her eyes.

“You are not going to die!” He makes it sound so very certain that she believes him. The weight of his hands on her shoulders keep her frame from trembling. “We shall survive - you and I.”
”What are you going to do?” She repeats her question.

“I’m going to start a fire.”

**

He does not recall passing out on the map he had been examining, trying to determine the routes open for any assailants who had intercepted his wife’s procession. The storm had erased all possible clues of their movements leaving Wook to relay on his experience and knowledge to work it out. The shadow forces - is the only conclusion he manages to arrive at.

They are men of wind and dust, hardly seen, never heard of - and only ever loyal to the dragon throne itself. Wook had never come to posses their control - not during his father’s reign or that of any of his brothers. The rumour had it that the force was never loyal to Jeongjong - seeing him as a traitor - a usurper. The rumour says Hyejong made them swear allegiance to his fourth brother a long back - first step of an abdication that he could never go through. The shadow forces - that kept Jeongjong awake and relentless during the entirety of his reign - fearing they had followed him everywhere, watched his ever move and reported to his fourth brother in his exile.

Wook wonders now - if it had indeed been so. If they were all been watched, by those shadows. It creeps up on him like a nudging doubt, and curls around his conscious like a fear and refuses to let go - the feeling of eyes on the back of his head.

Watching. Waiting. For him to make a mistake.

And he had made a mistake.

Seo Nui was gone.

For one disoriented moment, he wonders what had woken him up. He looks around, blinking, trying to gather his thoughts. There are screams outside. Voices - rising and falling and silences full of panic. Wook scrambles to his feet and knocks a tumbler of wine down.

One of the guards rushes in, two more follows him.

“Your highness -” the man seems to observe his face carefully. “Are you quite well?”

“What is the fuss outside?”

“A plague has broken in the camp sire, the soldiers are panicking!”

“A plague - ?”

“One of the gisaeng had been hiding it - lord, the woman has been killed already. But some men are ailing - some fear they’ve caught the disease, the others want to save themselves by killing off the possible infected…”

The man’s voice is drowned in a yell outside.

“The eighth prince!” It is the commander of the Khitan forces. “Prince Wook! Come out! I hold you responsible for this discord - come out Daejong! Come out!”

“The Gisaeng - where were they from?” He knows it is too late to ask that question. But the nudging doubt, forces his hand. The man hangs his head low and shakes his head. But Wook thinks that he knows - of cause he does - with his ears ringing with the chaos outside, he could think of only one person who could have sown discord among his men so swiftly.

That woman never misses - that rose of Kangs.

“DAEJONG!!!”

Notes:

Second part of that chapter - we still have the duel to look forward to.

Chapter 24: Queen

Summary:

She is falling into a hopeless love

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The scroll that he had tossed away hits the ground with all the wrath he could have mastered. So clenches his jaw, suppressing the undeniable urge to crush it under his heel by gritting his teeth instead. Gnawing, he turns to Baek Ah, who wisely avoids his gaze.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Jung is yet to rise from his curtsy, the weathered look of determination on his face makes Baek Ah worry for the life of the fool. He had long ago given up patching the hostile siblings, yet, after all these years he still had belief on Jung growing up someday. That someday - might still be eons away.

Jung had returned a while ago, thankfully safe and sound - yet, he had brought a storm of his own along with the news of Seo Nui going missing. The abduction, even if staged would be blamed upon them. Neither the emperor nor the older prince needed Jung to explain the implications or the mind behind the design. Obviously the scheme came straight from Wook. But, as Jung points out, it is an opportunity in itself - if one knew how to make use of it. The gratitude of Ryus - the possibility of breaking their alliance with Wook.

Only - Jung chooses the moment to place a price on his loyalty and propose a bargain. His daughter in exchange of what he knew. The place where the assailants kept the princess of Ryu, Jung being aware of it was a blessing and a curse for the fool had no concern of his own life.

“Imperial brother,” Baek Ah says warningly, a second before So could leap at the throat of the younger man. “Hyungnim…”

So stills with almost a superhuman effort before exhaling loudly, knuckles of his fist turning white with swallowed rage.

“You can’t have her,” he says in the end. “There is no bargaining on that.”

“She is my daughter!”

“Jung -” Baek Ah reminds him, but the younger man is beyond himself.

“My daughter! Not a toy you could steal away under pretext of visiting -!”

The reference - made to an incident decades ago, was made childishly so, as if Jung had still held that grudge over his lost toy dragon ( his mother had especially commissioned it for him!) for so many years. The emperor gives no sign of remembering.

“Fourteenth prince,” his tone is cold and indifferent. There is a cruel tilt to his mouth. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation with me?”

“Jung - apologize -”

“If you want it ugly it could be arranged - with evidence that you would not imagine to survive. But I’d rather not execute a brother for lying to his monarch...”

Jung does not move, or speak for a moment. He sighs before speaking up.

“I gave her my word.”

“She was a fool - to go with her schemes you are a bigger fool.”
When he looks up at the emperor his eyes burn with indignity.

“You think its her -don’t you? Do you think you’ve got her back?” Pity, curls his mouth skeptically. “Pyeha, she’s making a fool of you!”

“Jung - ah,” Baek Ah moves to step up and drag the insolent idiot away physically if he has to, but So turns to look at him - his eyes suddenly so cold that he gives up the idea.

“And the entire SongAk is aware -”

It is then that he proceeds to produce a scroll one of his men had handed him on his way. Now that he had thrown the caution into the wind, Jung decides, there was no deep water that he was afraid of to step into.

“Don’t you call yourself the master of Hawks your majesty? The sole commander of shadow forces - didn’t your shadows bring this to your notice?”

Baek Ah bites the inside of his cheek, the news had indeed reached them, it was he who blocked Chun due to the much pressing concerns of the approaching battle. A mistake - it seems - that had returned to bite harder than he thought.

As the emperor peruses the memorandum, Jung does not remain silent.

“They call her a witch - who had bewitched you! Who had cursed the crown prince! That sort of woman will raise my daughter?”

“You will not insult consort Kang in my presence!”

It is then that he tosses away the scroll.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asks Baek Ah.

“If she was really Soo - she would never have returned to you.” Jung says, rising to his feet without leave to do so, his bow of parting barely lowers his gaze. “I see that we shall not reach an understanding Pyeha, please accept my well wishes for your victory tomorrow...”

“Hyungnim?” Baek Ah calls worriedly.

“Find the source of this rumour,” the emperor tells him.

“Imperial brother - isn’t Seo Nui more important?”

“Even if you send men, she won’t be at the place Jung thinks she is -”

“Hyungnim - you didn’t?”

“No. It was not me. But I believe she must have reached Ryus by now.”

Baek Ah lingers still, instead of withdrawing. So feels a pain building up behind his eyes.

“Yes?”

“You mustn’t let them paint a target on her back, imperial brother - Soo or not, she saved your life.”

“I won’t leave her behind.”

“Is there a better way to dispel the rumor that she has bewitched you? Hyungnim, there is no difference in taking her to Songak and throwing her to wolves, must you always allow your greed to win? Must you always kill -” he stops himself a tad bit too late and swallows thickly. “Forgive me, Pyeha - I will withdraw first.”
**

If she was really Soo - she would never have returned to you.

His words, twist their way into his psyche like a rusty nail someone had hammered into his heart. With each hit, sinking a little deeper, causing a little more pain.

If she was really Soo… If she was…

He still sits at her bedside, watching her pale face - watching her lips mumble silent words. Her lashes flutter, her fingers seek him.

If she was really Soo - he keeps thinking.

Tendrils of cold seeps in from a window left open somewhere and the feeling of frost coiling under her skin is the first of her wakeful thoughts. She tries to hold the last of her dream sipping through the gaps between her fluttering lashes, allowing a sliver of light in.

The last of flames - of wolves - blood and him - dissipates into the abyss of her conscious.

Fingers withdrawing from where they held into her wrist, caressing the back of her palm as they slip away is the second of her thoughts. Unconsciously, she tries to hold back, her own hand reaching out blindly in pursuance of the traces of warmth that lingers branded upon her skin.

He rises from her side like a shadow, merging into the darkness that is tainted blue with the approaching dawn. Words are lost on her dry throat and he does not pause for her to call out.

Must you always kill - If she is Soo - she would never return… Must you allow your greed to win?

There is a crack somewhere between them, even her half conscious mind feels the rough edges he leaves behind. Something broken - something ugly. The unease that wells up chokes her and the first sound she makes is somewhere in between a gasp and a cough.

His steps pause.

He shall not throw her to wolves - but there is a bit of wolf inside him too…

The moment gives her all the hope, even when he doesn’t turn around, even when he doesn’t come to her. It is Eun Mi who comes instead, to help her to sit up, to drink some water. There is pity in her eyes, in the touch of comfort that she offers her. She speaks rather slowly, as if her words could break her. As if, she despises being the messenger that bears ill news, still she tells her.

He will not see her again.

As if - she would give him the choice.

The storm has dissolved and the silver of dawn dusts the night. There are no doors in the Kang compound that are closed on her - even when she is barely standing on her feet. The cold walls balance her, homely under her palm. His back is turned, in the process of donning his armor, waiting for an eunuch to assist him.

The entourage notices her first and they pause - though none of them announces her. It seems the decree if there ever was one has not been made known to them, for none stands in her way. She takes the tray of metal and leather from the hands of the bowing eunuch and approaches him on unsteady steps.

The first brush of her icy fingers across his nape makes his eyes snap around, yet she doesn’t meet his eyes, does not pause in her actions.

“Women of Kang dresses their men for battle,” she tells him, deft fingers adjusting his armor. “It is believed to bring blessings. I shall not compel you to see me, your majesty - please keep your gaze straight ahead.”

For a moment it looks as if he wants to speak, but then, he tilts his chin up and complies with her request, eyes barely sweeping over her once before facing ahead - over her head when she steps around to his front. She fixes the breastplate and the heart - shield before allowing her palm to linger - a layer of cold steel between his heart and her touch.

“I won’t apologize,” she says then. “For I’d rather you live to resent me - I’d rather -”

“You used me.” His words are so bitter that they make her flinch. There is no trace of warmth from before, instead he addresses her as if a stranger. “No woman has ever degraded me so.”

“ I chose you,” she corrects him, patiently. “Over myself.”

“And never thought if I could live with that -”

Her breath shudders, unknowingly, she reaches closer.

“Must we part on so bitter terms - lord husband?” She swallows thickly, but the knot remains on her throat, the acid in her eyes. “I’ve heard of the decree - you wish to leave me behind. I would of cause comply with your wishes - guide your clan, hold your walls - raise your children.”

The last of metal clicks together and she steps back.

“Will you give me Seol - or am I condemned to be deprived of all forms of love?”

Still, he says nothing.

“Very well,” she says biting back a sob. Tears that she has no control over, rain down her cheeks. “Very well. ”

A step further back, her heart tightens with pain, causing her to clasp a hand over it and gasp for a mouthful of air.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t please you - I’m sorry I’m not her - I’m so -”

The steel and leather engulfs her ever so suddenly. An embrace into which she drowns, breathless with his mouth against hers. He tastes of despair, longing and barely concealed desire. His lips cold yet so yielding - caressing her with reverence, fingers raking over her cheeks, dipped in her tears - drawing searing lines down her throat. Her skin catches fire under his fingertips and her lips part in a gasp, allowing him to plunge deeper, teeth worrying at her fuller lower lip for one scalding moment before sucking gently - soothing the broken skin with the warmth of his tongue. His breath shudders in defeat, as his walls collapse and he gives himself willingly - taking all that she offers.

Breaking the kiss his forehead rests against hers, inhaling sharply. She caresses his face, looking up at his closed eyes. Love wells up within her so strong that it frightens her. He feels the shudder that passes down her spine, beneath his palm and his eyes flutter open.

“You are cruel,” he tells her, his voice rasp, drunk on her kiss. “To make me love you so much…” He kisses her jaw, trailing his lips down her throat, holding her close and simply breathing her heartbeat in. “You’re cruel - so very cruel.”

“So -” she moans, fingers locked in his hair. “So -!”

“I can’t lose you,” he murmurs against her throat. “I won’t survive it. Forgive me - for I - I will kill anyone who dares to take you away.”

“You must let them.” She says finally. He moves away, frowning. But she reaches out, brushing her fingertips against the creases between his brows. “You mustn’t stop them when they are making mistakes. Your war is mine - lord husband, I shall always be by your side.”

**

She keeps the smile on her lips, until he leaves, until the very last footstep of his entourage vanishes on the waking sounds of the compound, before stumbling back. The back of her hand that she presses against her nose sealed in blossoming taint of blood.

Things he does not know - will not hurt him. After all, it is not her that he loves, it is Hae Soo. 

The smile that curls her lips is bitter and salty with her tears.

At least he will not lose his love and she will make memories in exchange.

Notes:

Don't misunderstand me - I ship So - Soo as hard as possible. But somehow I've made myself cry with Jang Mi. She is my baby after all!
Do share your thoughts! :-)

Chapter 25: Ghost

Summary:

The shadows rise and veils are lifted.

Notes:

Somewhat dark themes.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The cold if possible only increases the strain on the wheels, they whimper as they turn opening the walls of Kangs to the world buried under snow beyond them. The storm washed skies glitter in pristine white, a feeble yet sparkling sun rising to greet the world. A lazy snow flake stranded without the breeze to carry it lands heavy on her shoulder as Jang Mi watches from the watch tower, several levels above, as the king’s party rides out.

The general shout of the men rise in a wave of high spirits, mint in the fresh wintry air and she inhales a lung full of it, her grip only tightening on the unpolished wood that serves as the banister. Even among all the men clad in metal and leather - even set against the eyes watering white of the snow - her gaze picks him out instantly and stays on him despite the old and familiar ache that stirs up in her. It could very well be the last time she ever see him - Hae Soo despairs, while Jang Mi’s thoughts are more bittersweet. She had watched him leave more than once from this very spot.  

Among his men, So is distinguishable due to his posture, his shoulders taut and back rigid, one hand holding his sheathed sword up in the air, the tassels of carmine swinging in the wind - while the other hand holds the reins of his stallion. Around him the men fall into formation. He is not at the head of them. Instead they prowl around him like a pack of wolves heeding their leader, guarding the parameter at the same time. The wintry air settles in her lungs, he does indeed ride out like a Kang despite every word her aunt had ever spoken.

She thinks of the old woman - still beautiful in her ice cold way, until the very last moment and the shiver that runs down her spine has little to do with the winter morning. Instead she is reminded of her cold eyes - gray brown like a barren ground frozen in mid winter, she is reminded of the anger that sparkles in them, the madness that stirs in them. And the irony - or fate - had brought her to stand in her shoes. The lady of Kangs - the emperor’s woman.

“Your grace?” Eun Mi’s teeth clatter, as she climbs up the slippery steps leading to the guard chamber. She stands behind her lady, hands clasped to stop them from shivering, urgency that had brought her all the way up, warming her cheeks red.

“Hmm?” Jang Mi is yet to tear her eyes away from So, though the distance had grown rapidly between them. In another moment she would see them no longer.

“Your grace if you please, you must come - at once!”

A blink and he is gone, swallowed by the endless whiteness that hurts her eyes. Jang Mi turns finally to face the shivering girl.

“What is it?”

Before Eun Mi could speak the chaos downstairs alerts her. The raised voices and stumbling feet, heavy against the wood.

“Where is the witch?” That voice is unmistakable - and she gathers her skirts to descend when Jung barges in - huffing and heaving, cornering her against the rough wooden banister.

“Your highness!” Eun Mi cries in protest, staring wide eyed at the young man’s raised hand.

Jang Mi however does not move, her body had suddenly gone stiff as she watches Jung with a frosty glare.

“Touch me -” she says stiffly. “Touch a hair on my head - you answer to his majesty, your highness.”
Her eyes move, slowly from Jung’s murderous expression to his hand frozen mid - air, and she straightens up.

“Your highness is a guest at my home, I would not wish to cause any disrespect. I am however, your imperial brother’s wife - My honor is his majesty’s honor. I implore your highness not to forget that.”

“That is a conversation I shall have with my imperial brother -” Jung hisses, reaching out to grab her by the shoulder. “Come with me!”

**

She has not ventured into that courtyard since her aunt died. The bare boughs of the huge tree in the middle of the snow covered lawn looms over them like a gangling old giant - part ghost and part dying - ominous nevertheless.

Jang Mi grows in a breath as she is pushed inside.

“You’ll never leave these walls…” she recalls the dying woman’s wheezing words, as she wiped her brow. “Never. Trust. A. Man. He would never take you with him.” She is lost in a world of her own, speaking to no one in particular - as if uttering cryptic words of a future only near dead could see.

“Are you cursing me - lady aunt?” she had tried to sound indifferent, as if with her dying breath the woman of her nightmares did not manage to scar her battered conscious. Look Jang Mi - she thinks to herself - she can hurt you no more.

But her hand shakes each time she touches her skin, white like jade - too white - too cold - inhumane. She thinks of her whip, of her crazy wails, of her claw like nails and whispered threats - of flames - blood - wolves and hunger.

“My Rose -” Wheezes her aunt. “I’ve made you a weapon - not a doll. No man takes a weapon for a wife.”
She thinks of her prince - of his soft smiles - of his promises that make her hold her ground against this insane, cruel woman.

“Then why did you do that? Why would you raise your children like that?”
Her eyes are closed, her lips twist cruelly.

“You are thinking about the dog again -”

Jang Mi swallows.

“I do not.”

“It was you who send your brother with him - asked your brother to follow him. Who else but you should bare the weight of his death?” She wheezes on, knowing full well where her wounds are still raw, where she bleeds endlessly. “And yet - you think of that dog - again and again. It is good that he won’t make you a queen after all…”

“Then why do you trust him? You help him yourself? Why would you help a man who is ultimately going to betray me?”

“You’ve never been a part of the bargain - you’ve never - I would never trust you to take his life. You care about that dog too much. It is only the prince that trusts you - he knows you not, I do -”

“You don’t!” she snaps, rising abruptly. “You don’t! I would never forgive a man who killed my brother! I would never forget Seo Kyeong!”

“Prove it - I shall believe it then. Prove it - my Rose - show me your thorns…”
The words die on her memory and she draws in a harsh breath, finding her balance, tasting metal on her mouth. Eun Mi holds her with gentle hands thwarting her fall. Baek Ah is there, looking at Jung rather disapprovingly.

“Is that a way to treat a consort?” He snaps in a low voice, before turning to Jang Mi. “I am sorry about my brother - consort Kang, he behaves petulant at times.”

“I take no offence - your highness. His highness saved my life once - we’ve been on friendlier terms before.”

“Before I realized how wicked your scheme runs -” retorts Jung.

The annoyance stirs within her and Jang Mi bites back a retort. The fourteenth prince indeed has a temper of a child, it is very apparent that he is ruffled with being deprived of Seol - being declined his offer of bargain. While Hae Soo would understand Jang Mi would not willingly offer herself as a venting target.

“Exactly how wicked - your highness?”

“Consort Kang -” Baek Ah, intervenes his voice placating. “This is your home - we have but little to say in the matter.” He gives Jung a pointed look before continuing. “However - I’d like to hear an explanation as well.”

“Grand prince Anjong -” she says slowly, the ominousness of the place starting to weigh on her. “What has happened.”

“Your father’s mistress is dead.”

**

The chill creeps over her skin, like hairy tentacles that make her shudder - brushing against her neck - running down her spine - as her eyes takes in the vision. The rigid body, the open, empty eyes - skin peeling off - bluish purple.

“She’s been dead for a while -”

“Of cause - since she dared to torture her,” Jung mutters darkly in the background.

“No -” Jang Mi says blankly. “No -” she looks at Baek Ah. “She is been dead longer - is she not? Longer than a fortnight - its the winter that keeps the corpse intact.”

She hears herself speak, yet the words hardly make sense to her. There is something more sinister her brain is working on - something that makes it hard for her to breathe.

She had been died since the beginning of the winter. Since before Hae Soo woke up in her body - before the emperor arrived - before … before her aunt died!

“No - dear lord!” She mutters to herself, turning rather swiftly, walking as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Don’t let her flee!” Jung yells. It is Baek Ah that holds him back, he falls into step beside her still - keeping up with her fast strides.

“Lady Kang? Consort Kang? Jang Mi? Soo - yah?” She halts when he holds her back, a hesitant hand at her elbow. “Where are you going?”

“If you must - hold an inquiry,” she says quickly. “But I need to leave - I need to get to his majesty!”

“Why?” Baek Ah insists, his eyes boring into hers. “Why?”

“There is no time to explain!” She throws her hands in the air, beside herself. “I’ve been blind - I’ve been hoodwinked - his majesty is in danger!”

“You are not persuading me - consort Kang…”

“Then how shall I?”

“I suggest you start by taking a deep breath and trying to elaborate…?”

“The eighth prince will not honor the bargain - I planned him not to show up for the duel. He won’t with no army backing him - with Khitan deserting him and Ryus at loggerheads over the princess consort scheme - I thought he won’t come -”

“Then - what now?”

A dry laughter escapes her lips.

“It has never been a battle between them. It has always, always been a battle in her hands.”

“Jang Mi?”

“She said she will not trust me with something so vital - she was speaking the truth.” She exhales deeply and turns to Eun Mi, her eyes burning. “Tell the stables to bring over my horse, I must go at once.”
”Jang Mi?”

“The Duel is going to happen. I must go there - one strike too deep could be fetal for his majesty. I must go there.”

Notes:

This is first part of the core chapter - where we finally break into the crux of the story. You might find it confusing now - but trust me it will all fall into place at its own pace. As for why I killed Ah Ri - so easily - that's something for you to think over, until I return with the next part.
Do share your thoughts - I love hearing from you!
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 26: Turncoat

Summary:

The enemy returns with vengeance.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The wind is cutting - invisible icy blades of steel that stings with their intensity. Upon the blinding snow, on barks of naked trees, the sun bleeds crimson - a call for blood that every battle field must adhere. Beyond lies the hunting grounds of Kangs, the barren land home to wolves and other hungry predators. It is a grave for the weak to be buried unmarked and un - celebrated.

The distance between him and the army that waits grows, and so does the unease that stirs inside him. Involuntarily So thinks back to a similar chase - a hunt which ended with his sword buried in his brother. He thinks of the cursed guilt that threatened to drown him, even when he knows - then and now - that the fate was very much deserved.

In the duels of Kangs men hunt men, mounted on their warhorses. As many die crushed under the hooves of giant stallions as they die at the tips of arrows and spears. Even when he knows that Wook is a master of archery, he had not imagined his scholarly brother opting for such barbaric battle.

“Hiyaah!” It takes effort to pull back the animal to a halt, it neighs in protest, large hooves scraping the snow before it stills. The silence of the forest swallows them and So cannot see him anymore. The unease grows heavier, a coiling python at the pit of his stomach.

Wook should not know these terrains well enough to vanish on him. He listens, his eyes straining, trying to ignore the unease that riles up his wind pipe. It was in his eyes - the first misgiving that he noticed. It reminded him of seeing Soo once again at the compound of Kangs, how an unfamiliar expression had changed the familiar features. There is something devilous lurking beneath the skin of his brother.

The next misgiving was the Ryus.

They had taken the field beside him instead of against him. It surprised So very little, though he knew little of the dowager queen, the richest of his many step mothers, he knew her late son the ninth prince well enough. It will hardly surprise him if their blood changed color, for that was how apt they were at changing loyalties. He is yet to hear the explanation, but he is certain it will be something along the lines of a youthful mistake of his step sister. Well, he is looking forward to see the dowager queen on her knees anyway.

But it bothered him, no matter how willing he is to belong it is a fruit of Jang Mi’s scheming, it did not sit well. No - it felt like a pre - staged plan leading to a goal they could not see. So thinks of the bitter expressions of the Ryu men, the vile glances they threw at the few guards that accompanied Wook. There was some disquiet there - only he is unable to put his finger on the crack.

So shakes his head, it matters a little. He had long since mastered the art of pitting dogs against dogs, and taking a wicked amusement in watching them rip each other apart. The Ryus had given him the opening he needed, it would be amusing to pit them against the Hwangobos - when the time comes.

The forest remains silent, the snow muffling the softest of sounds. The unease is heavy in his chest and he continues to listen, holding the reins - clutching at a spear. He never hears the sound, it is a different sense, a prickle in his skin, a shift in the wind.

He turns sharply, the spear leaving his hand well before his eyes lands on the target. The man with the sharp spike buried inside him collapses from his perch on one of the tallest trees. A man that is not his brother - an armed man that was lurking in the arena of the duel.

The disturbance irritates the horse and it raises the front hooves, neighing, pulling at the reins. As he struggles for balance, his ears pick out the sound of cutting air. The three arrows, he misses by sheer instinct - it only works to rile the horse further. The next arrow is not even intended at him, aiming to take his mount on its hind leg.

So clucks his tongue, irked more than he was worried and skips the stallion forward, giving into its need to put distance between itself and danger. Of cause, he thinks, Wook has never played by the rules.

He pulls out the bloody spear as he rides past the fallen assassin, ducking another stray arrow, the scattered assailants mean a little when he knows the man he ought to be hunting.

Ahead of him, the cluster of trees open into the hunting grounds of Kangs.

**

He does not want to be a traitor - Jung tries to quell the feeling that seems to overwhelm him but it grows with each breath he takes. The emperor would never give him his daughter… The bargain was his last option, the only way left for him to reach out to his blood brother. But… He paces, trying, and failing, to direct his thoughts away from treason. But… he wants Seol and he was running out of his options.

The boy they dragged from the battlefield is screaming still, banging on the cell he had had him closed in. The sound thumps against the throbbing of his head.

He could kill someone - anyone - just to vent the frustration that was slowly eating away his senses.

“Let me out! Let -” the yell dies abruptly when he pushes in the door, striding inside, unsheathing his blade and pointing it at the throat of the boy who reddens with rage.

“How did you know - she is dead?”
”Huh? What?” The boy splatters.

“When I was going to search for Ah Ri, you said it’s not going to work, you said dead can’t talk.” The boy doesn’t reply. In his wide eyes he could see him searching for lies, building up excuses. “Khitan is working with Kangs? Is that it? Have they promised land beyond the river to the enemies? TALK!” He barks, straining to grasp the last of his patience. “Or I’ll cut off your tongue myself.”
”I don’t know -” The boy says stubbornly. “I have no idea.”
”Then how did you know she is dead?” He asks furiously.

“She - I -” the blade presses closer and the boy gulps. “I’ve overheard the prince and the Khitan commander talking about it - one day at the camp.”

Jung exhales.

“What about it?”

“She was their correspondent at the Kang compound. I don’t know - they said the real woman is dead.”

“Then who is the spy? Where is she now?”

“I don’t know!” The boy chokes his voice breaking as he swallowed a sob. “I don’t know alright? Will you take that damned blade off my throat?”

“I’m thinking about it -” Jung tells him. “But I think you’ve served your purpose.”

“No!” The boy squeals high pitched like a girl. “No - I could be of use.”
”Oh?”

“Tell me - what you want?”
Jung pauses for a moment - a dark thought crossing his mind. Suddenly the words are heavy on his tongue that he couldn’t get them out. Still, the thought twists itself into something ugly and clingy. The boy was not one of his men - foolish though he was - nobody could trace him back to Jung - not even the shadow forces.

“I want you to stop lady Kang -”

“Consort Kang?” The boy corrects him automatically. Jung flinches, as if suddenly realizing he had spoken out loud. The boy goes on. “Stop her from what? Going after the emperor? Wait - who are you supporting really?” His eyes shine suddenly, as if they were co - conspirators. “Not a king’s man are you?”

“Forget I said that -” Jung snaps, turning around to leave. “I order you to forget it.”

“Wait!” The boy calls after him. “I could do that - I really could.”

He does not stop - but - neither does he lock the boy back inside.

**

As soon as Wook loses his mount, So jumps off his own. The open lands blinding with their snowy blankets crowd on him with shadows of past. He tries to shake them away, the memories of wolves and fire as his opponent bares his teeth with a growl.

The blades clank and the force runs like a sting of fire along his muscles when they lock their swords. There he sees it again.

The flashing look of venom in the eyes of his step brother. His eyes have changed, So feels his breath catch - those eyes - he knows them, even in the deepest pit of his nightmares.

“No -” The misstep, makes his opponent gain an advantage over him. The short dagger the man pulls from his back, slashes across his thigh. They spin apart, scraping snow with their heels.

“Are you afraid - brother?” Wook asks, his voice drips with malice. “Does this place make you shudder? Does it remind you of old times?

He feints to right and twirls around aiming for ribs, the weak points of armor, So parries him off, instead the hilt of his blade finding the gap between Wook’s collar bones. The man hisses, pushed back by the force of that blow - giving So the distance he needed to swing his blade as he spins on his heel, cutting a slash across Wook’s arm and sinking a short knife into a vulnerable point of his armor at his side with an arm he stretches blindly to his back. When he completes the turn, returning to his original position, he has to dodge the dagger he had plunged into Wook, now dripping with blood the man throws it back at him - snow at his feet tainted in red.

The moment he shifts his eyes to the blade that flies past, Wook barrels into him, his weight adding power to the blow - it carries them both backwards into the snow - where the dagger had previously landed.

“Perhaps -” says the man, reaching to pull out another blade. “It is your fate to die in these fields…”

So pulls free the dagger on the ground, just in time to block the pointed blade hurling towards him. The steel clanks and Wook groans, pushing at the locked blades with all his might.

So feels his view spin, and a point of darkness looms at the corner of his vision. He blinks, straining himself to push off the weight of the man on him - but he feels it fast, the feeling that runs along his limbs, draining him of strength.

Poison? He thinks. His blades are poisoned.

It takes him all the energy he has to hold the locked blades with one hand as his other hand turns Wook’s own blade against him. The man groans - momentarily blinded with pain, but as if possessed he continues with his attack, with that worthlessly short blade pointed to his heart.

His vision blurs.

And he hears the wheezing of an arrow.

**

It is a precise little arrow, not of a bow, but blown by a pipe. Jang Mi knows the kind. There is no sign of her horse other than the tracks it had left as it ran away, riled up by the arrow - and the ankle deep snow only slows her down.

She burns with rage that she cares little for the size of the boy, she knows very well who had send him. It only enrages her further. It takes her a whine from the kid, and the burning raw skin of her fist to finally gather her senses. There is a deep red bruise on the boy’s jaw and she is yet to release his throat.

Jang Mi draws in a breath, her eyes burning.

“Why? Why?” She implores, letting her nerves take over her senses for a moment. “If this foolishness of yours costs me anything - anything that I hold dear - I will skin you with my bare hands!”
She feels the boy shudder, but then her breath hitch. The boy is no longer looking at her, but it does very little to distract her from the sudden realization. Jang Mi loosens her grip, scrambling to her feet. Her eyes wide and her breath heaving she points a shaking finger at the boy.

“You are no squire!”

The boy pulls himself to his feet, a tentative hand nursing his cheek.

“Hello - lady Kang.”

“Mun Hye? Princess - Mun Hye?”

“I heard you saved my sister - is it the old ties that you still care for or was it a part of your husband’s scheme?”

“Mun Hye - yah! Where have you been? Why are you dressed like a boy?”

“Can you ask me that?” The girl snorts, still very much boyish,still very red with anger. “Where ever were you when I was being sent to Khitan - oh right - you were getting married yourself!”

“Khitan? Mun Hye…”

“It was only the eighth brother that came for me - only he helped. And you are still here - married to that wretched man and asking me why I’m dressed like a boy? Why don’t you ask your dear husband?”

“Mun Hye!” She tries and fails to keep her voice from rising. “Watch your tongue. I’ve been looking for you - I’ve even send - what do you mean you were sent to Khitan?”

Mun Hye sneers, her fists clenched.

“Why don’t you ask your beloved husband if he has not decreed that I was to be married to that - that - rotten - old - fool from Khitan?”

“He will not - no - Mun Hye you’ve been lied to.”

“Oh? And you take me for a toddler that I would speak of a decree I haven’t seen? Who do you think I’ve been hiding from all this while?”

“If the emperor really mean to send you as a tribute to Khitan, believe me - you wouldn’t get the opportunity to run away.” Jang Mi breathes. “And what - the prince had come to Khitan for your rescue? You silly thing, how do you think he got an army from the enemies - if he went to advocate your release?”

Mun Hye exhales slowly. “He didn’t even know I was there. Eighth brother had no agenda in helping me - It was only later that he realized I was in disguise and took me into his own personal guard.”

“Oh - and the Khitan gave him an army just like that to fight for his claim?”
”I - Stop manipulating me!” Mun Hye yells. “It was the emperor - it was him! I saw his men - they came to take me -!”

“I’m sure they did, but I’m not very certain on whose orders.”

Mun Hye is silent for a moment.

“Do you know that the attack on your sister was planned by your dear brother in law?” Jang Mi presses on. “You can ask your sister, if I speak the truth when you meet. This marriage decree has been staged - if I’m not much mistaken - to get your mother’s support for his rebellion.”

“I saw the decree!”

“There is another person with a royal seal - you fool! Or do you claim you saw the dragon seal?”

“The queen -” Mun Hye’s voice is barely a whisper. “The queen did this?”

Jang Mi shakes her head at the hopeless despair on the girl’s face. She wishes to tell her that she had been helping the wrong side all along but she is pressed for time. Her bones ache from the fall and she limps involuntarily, dragging her way through the snow towards the arena.

“Jang Mi!” The princess - who had been a friend once upon a time, calls with less venom. “Jang Mi - yah.”

“I don’t have time for this -” Jang Mi bites out, without turning.

“You shouldn’t go -!” Mun Hye pulls at her elbow, forcing her to grit out a painful scream as is brought to a halt.

“Mun Hye -” She tells her. “Don’t force me to forget our good relations.”

“If you go now - you are going to be in a great peril,” the girl says seriously. “I don’t believe you -” she adds then. “Or that wicked man you’ve gone and married. I care less of whether he lives or not - heavens forgive me - but I’d give this one last friendly advice to you. If you want to live past this day - you must run away. Because after today, even that - that husband of yours will not be able to protect you.”

She brushes off Mun Hye’s arm, her eyes burning as she turns to face her.

“If he dies - I’ll die fighting beside him!”

“You don’t understand - fool,” says the younger princess. “They are not going to kill him.”

**

The arrow finds its mark and sinks into the man’s heart. His screech is inhumane and his blood splatters on So’s face, as his dead weight collapses on him. There are hooves, cluttering, galloping towards them. So Pushes the man away and clasps a hand on his throat, trying to gulp enough air.

Then he goes very still, eyes on the approaching horsemen.

“Guard the emperor!” Someone shouts, as the man with the bow dismounts. The men march in, surrounding him as he staggers back to his feet. His vision is still blurry but he recognizes the on coming man well enough. It bothers him more than he cares to ponder.

The man sinks to his knees.

“Pyeha!”

“Who are you? What in the devil’s name -”

“I’ve been framed -” Wook looks up at him, his eyes pleading yet clear. “All this while I’ve been held prisoner - while this impostor - this doppelganger had been ralying men for a wicked cause - joining hands with the enemy - bringing them upon our sacred soil - I’d never -”

“Lies!” Growls So, “you take me for a fool?”

“I deserve death, for I should have come earlier - I should have somehow broken free - I would not recent you for sending me back to house arrest either - imperial brother - but I speak the truth, upon my honor, upon my life.”

“Do you know the consequences of taking a false oath?”

“Your majesty,” Chun calls over, pulling his attention to the body of his opponent being hauled over. They turn the corpse so that they could see the face of the man - the blood drenched features seems to melt, change before their eyes.

“Sorcery!” A soldier screams, jumping back, eyes wide and lips shaking. “It’s the devil!”

Chun turns and gives the man a look, shutting him up. By the time he turns back around, the dead man had morphed into a complete stranger. Only Wook would recognize him as the scout who brought him the message of princess consort going missing - but - his lips curl a little disdainfully, it is nothing that he would speak of.

“Pyeha,” he says instead, his tone innocently curious. “Would you believe me now?”

So closes his eyes, heaving a breath.

“Or is your majesty ensnared in their charm too?” Wook speaks before he could open his mouth. So’s gaze shifts to him and Wook drops it eyes, hiding the flashing calculation in them. The men had heard enough, the men would talk - their imagination would fill the gaps. He was the savior who saved the life of their monarch, If So speaks against him - if he - but utters a word to shield her - they would think of him enchanted. “Of cause -” he says slowly. “You wouldn’t know - it was the Kangs that held me prisoner.”

Notes:

Seo Nui and Mun Hye are originally princess of Ryu clan. (You can learn more about them and their spouses in Wikipedia) however I'm not going to get all the history facts - this is going to be historically inaccurate where it suits my plot. :-P
What I've developed is that ninth prince was a son of the dowager queen of Ryu. There is a Won in the list of her children but I'm not certain if it is the same guy. Anyway, I've imagined he is - and that is the blood debt between the queen of ryus and So who ordered the execution of her son.
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I'm so very sorry for the long - unexpected delay. I'm ill - so to speak, cod weather never agrees with me. And then flu comes with its full package. I've been advised to stay away from screens for a while cause they hurt my eyes.
That aside - as a peace offering there's 1k more than the usual chapter, I hope I'll be forgiven for this and any future delays with that. :-)
Do tell me how you found Wook turning tables/ Mun Hye revealing herself? I'd like to hear your thoughts!
Cheers!

Chapter 27: You bury me

Summary:

Love is the most beautiful form of greed.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Pain that sears through him, of poison sinking its claws into his circulation, surprisingly leaves his mind clearer even as his vision falters. So notes the way Wook’s eyes linger a moment too long on the dead impostor’s distorted features, the detached and almost inhumane indifference he expresses. It is then that he realizes that the fate has come a full circle back to its beginning.

A cup of poison.

A misplaced blame.

He must get to her! The need is a sudden flare that staggers him backwards under its burden. He thinks of her, pale and bloodied -thinks of her soft hands peeled rough by hard labour - he must get to her - now! 

That was how the ending began, running its full course into several, long and dark years of trials and suffering with few moments of light and love scattered all over just enough to keep them alive. So that the end would be all the more excruciating.

Nothing much has changed. Nothing much will, unless, something is done about it.

Wook looks at him hopefully, sharp eyes appreciating his injuries. Are you counting the time I’ve left? So thinks, noting the calculation apparent in his eyes. Playing the good brother, trying to step up to shoulder the burden when I falter?
He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking venomously of how Wook had failed him once, when he had placed his trust - his life - in his hands. How he had failed her… and still had the nerve to claim of her love for him. No - not again. Never again.

It takes all his strength to hold his ground, when all he wants is to rush to her, but he knows it yields nothing - no - he must think like a king.

“There are assassins in the forest,” he raises his voice instead, ignoring the kneeling man for a moment longer. When he finds Chun’s eyes, there is a silent command in his gaze. He sees to it that Chun stiffens and nods, briefly, before commanding his men.

“Spread out, search and terminate. Do not spare one!”

“Brother - Pyeha?”
Now that only Chun, Wook, and the handful of royal guard remains, the spectacular mass of witnesses dispersed, So could see the beginnings of displeasure coloring Wook’s complexion.

“The Kangs are my people - I was their prince, I am their lord, you wish to suggest that my own clan are traitors?” He words it carefully, neither overtly concerned nor angry, simply cold enough to make the other man shiver.

“Pyeha,” protests Wook. “Despite your feelings, they have never considered you family - Kang Seo Kyeong despite being your cousin, despite being second to your lord of defence, did he not betray you?”

The eloquent words make him smirk, years he had been kept away from the court had made Wook rusty.

“So they’ve kept a captive up to date with court gossip, have they?”

“Pyeha!” Wook interjects, displeasure coloring him darker, as he goes over the conversation once more in his head, realizing where he went wrong. “You do not believe me.”
”You may rise,” So says leisurely, sheathing his sword and ignoring Chun’s hand stretched out to take it, straps it back on to his waist. “Trust is not something I give away freely. So far I see no reason why your story is to be preferred to any other. Honestly, it is all quite fanciful to believe that my uncle or my wife knew of a place in these terrains to keep you imprisoned that I’m yet to discover. If they did, how am I to believe you are not another impostor?” So takes a wicked pleasure in seeing Wook gulp, and presses on. However you will have your say -” he gestures for silence when Wook opens his mouth, “ - in full court, at a trial - with witnesses.
”Peyha -”

“You accuse my clan - you accuse me. Out of respect for your lady mother - and your sister, I shall allow you to keep your head.”

He takes a staggering step away, turning on his heel before Wook would notice the pain that makes itself known on the pressed line of his mouth.

He must go to her.

“Pyeha! Lord Park!” Some of the men reappear, their blades blood smeared and struggling to catch their breath. “Some of them has moved out, there are trails in the snow…going towards…”

Soo!

“Your majesty!” Chun calls after him, but he does not wait a moment longer. If it happens again - if she is hurt again - if he loses her again - heavens know, he will not survive.

The plan has never been to win the rebellion after all. The plan is to reinstate Wook to his previous position, of trust and heroism - the savior of king. What better a way than to frame the Kangs into treason - what better way to do that but the lady’s own confession?

They would kill her - of cause he could see it - kill her and stage it a suicide, snapping under the burden of her own guilt when she realizes that their plans have been thwarted by the eighth prince - of cause - it will only be too easy.

In front of him the snow blurs and darkness edges from the corners of his vision. There is a hum - inside his head - that grows louder and louder, like drums pounding beneath his skull.

Find her! Get to her! Find her before them!

Something twists inside him, tighter and tighter it coils as he realizes that perhaps he might not make it up to the compound of Kangs, he thinks of her eyes - brimming with tears, the cold touch of her palm against his heart, their farewell in the morning that now seemed an eon away.

Soo!

He finds her closer by, and his heart reprieves a sigh, even though she is cornered by men clad in black, too many of them than he could have taken on at the moment, with just an arrow blowing pipe in her hands. Their eyes meet and her mouth opens in silent scream, eyes widened in surprise. He sees one of the assailants closing on the occasion - blade raised high.

No - not her!   

It takes all the strength he could muster to ride into the mob of armed men, brandishing his spear through the man closest to her and to hoist her into his mount. The agitated animal needs no urging to spring forward and his sight spins, there is a taste of metal leaking into his mouth.

The men tries and fails to chase after - there is some commotion there, a distraction that does not register in his mind. He thinks it matters not, for she is safe - she is…

“Your majesty?” Her voice is small, but full of alarm. It brings to his attention that the reins are slipping from his grip. The warhorse is going too fast, gathering speed on the slippery snow.

His head is heavy, his vision is foggy and his senses are filled with the scent of peony in her hair.

“Soo…” he mutters, heaving against her, cheek pressed against hers. He feels her taking the reins from him and wonders distantly if she would be able to handle the huge warhorse. But then her cool palm is on his clammy cheek, his eyes flutter close.

“Can’t go back…” he mutters. “Won’t lose you…”

“So…” he is uncertain if it is her voice or his imagination. But he hums nevertheless. “Where do you want to go?”

He doesn’t reply immediately for he feels drowsy and comforted in her presence. Distantly it reminds him of so long ago when he had drank poisoned tea that she had poured for him.

“No - no, no,no!” He could hear her murmuring, a chant that seems to lull him further into that blessed oblivion. “So! So!”

“Hmm?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t want to go…” he tells her. “Not yet. Don’t…”

**

His omission does not allow him peace, Jung knows as soon as he realizes that the boy is gone - gone to stop consort Kang as he had ordered. Knowing the events that might follow, he finds it hard to breathe. It is the price a traitor has to pay - playing for both sides for so long, he had come in contact with more vices than he could probably bear - and the offer had been tempting. He could have had his daughter, had the life he so yearned for - away from all the demands of the crown. But - but - Wang So was his brother - the last that he had left. And she loved him - whatever Jung told himself these days. She would never forgive him.

He urges his stallion to go faster, as fast as the snow would allow. His eyes water at the brilliant white that surrounds him as he tries to pick out trail of that little nut. He must find the boy - find him before he commits what he sets out to do.

Even from a far, he knows they are assassins and for a moment he wonders if the boy could summon some of his traitor buddies to aid in his cause. No - he dismisses the thought the next moment.

No - they are not friends of his - and there is no sign of the boy either.

He shoots a few arrows to take down the men that obscures his view, unsheathing his sword with the time he gets. There is a growl vibrating deep in his throat as he takes in the events unfolding before him.

He would play no part of this dirty game - not even for Seol.

There is a loyalty grained into him that he could not go against despite wishing to, so very deeply, a curse that he cannot overcome - Jung thinks running his blade through the first traitor that comes his way. Blood splatters on his face and he allows a war cry to curl his lips, twisting around - slashing across the ribs of the next man, sinking into the thigh of the next.

It is then that he finds him, crawled into the shrubs that keeps him sheltered from the bloody struggle around him. The boy is shivering with blood smeared on one of his cheeks.

He gets to his feet when their eyes meet, knees wobbly and teeth clattering. Jung recognizes the dagger clutched in his hand - had seen it before in the possession of consort Kang. Before he could speak the boy throws the short knife and for a moment Jung thinks it is meant for him.

But the dagger finds its target beyond his shoulder, one of the many men he had cut down who had his blade raised in attack, collapses on the ground - the dagger planted between his eyes.

He tears his eyes from the obscene corpse of the man sprawled on the snow to look at the boy, who sways on his feet.

“He took her -” he stammers. “Someone took her!”

Jung steps forward to steady him when he stumbles, it is then that he frowns, the pieces of puzzle clicking into place.

“Who are you?” he asks her. For he knows now that the boy is no boy, it is a girl cleverly disguised. And from her distress he realizes that she is no enemy of consort Kang. She struggles against his hold and breaks free, although she has to press her hands to her temples as her view spins.

She knows too much - Jung is reminded suddenly. The young princess of Ryu should not be allowed to escape alive.

He had always imagined her differently, the half sister he had never met. In his imagination she was dressed in silks, with pleated hair dressed with ornaments. Another Yeon Hwa perhaps - or a pale, fidgety creature like her older sister. But the girl who stands before him is anything but that.

“Mun Hee?”

He makes a guess, and knows he is right when the girl flinches.

Notes:

Ya'aburnee - is an expression of love in Arabic, that is to mean 'you bury me' or to be more specific that I do not wish to live without you.
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Chapter 28: Family

Summary:

Loyalties that change with tide

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The wind holds its breath and Yeon Hwa sighs. She had never fancied the lush fields of Hwangju, for their time back with her mother’s people had always been tainted with the stigma of indignity they had been chased away with - a crime her mother had not committed but blamed on her nevertheless. Her memories in Hwangju are always associated with bitterness, the chasm that separates the girl she had been and the woman she became. Hwangju was that exile of transition.

There were good things that came from the exile though, she allows herself to remind. For one, her mother had learned that she had to fight for survival, to handle the weight of crown that was placed on the other woman’s head. Her mother had never been a warrior - nor quite the plotter queen Yoo had been, yet the insignificance and subservience are cards that were never played by a woman any better. With distinguishing herself for her gentleness and good heart, the Hwangbo queen and gathered all the enemies of her enemy to her camp, rallied behind her - at some point, at her beck and call even without them consciously knowing so.

The Haes, the Kangs, the Ryus across the hills, Khitan beyond the river…Hwangju is connected to all the clans in one way or the other and it was where they began to establish connections - spread the good will. And now - they are all clawing at each other, a fire she had started with one spark. Yeon Hwa shivers again, gathering furs wrapped around her shoulders, closer yet. Her sleep deprived eyes sting with the glare of snow - and she keeps glancing at the hopelessly gray skies. It had finally snowed the night before, bringing with it the cursed cold and inconveniences associated with winter.

She tries to keep up appearances - the queen waiting to greet the emperor as he comes victorious, but her shoulders hunch, her eyes droop and she cannot bring herself to forget the horrors of the night before. Disappointment, claws at her. Her boy is dying. It is time that she accepts it - like she had accepted her mother being exiled, as she had accepted the long dark years of adolescence spend in Hwangju. But she had never learned how to do that.

He would be one year old in little less than a month. Would he reach that milestone at least? She thinks desperately, oh how would she live on, with this hole in her heart - where guilt is burrowing deeper and deeper in? Her nails peel at the skin on the edges of her thumbs, restless, until she draws blood. No - it wasn’t her. It was him! He poisoned her boy, her poor, poor boy - she should have known, that man could never have any love for anything associated with her - no, it was all a pretence, to extract his revenge. Oh curse him - and his grudges! How long has it been since that wench died?

Or, has he found out? The little doubt had been nudging her since that incident - Yeon Hwa closes her eyes with a shudder. Her face pales as she sees the flash of a sword before her eyes, slitting a man’s throat - dripping with blood. No - it is not possible is it? Not after so long - it’s almost an year. No - but - but what is he trying to find in Shinju?

“No,” she mutters to herself, a white hand clasped against her trembling lips. “I should not think of that.” It has all been taken care of and so will everything else, she lulls herself. She has the best aid possible, everything will go her way. If the curse cannot kill him - she shall do it. Her boy will live, she will make him a throne of bones if she has to.

One of her ladies tend to the burner, poking at the coals until they glow like rubies and the old court lady brings her a hand warmer.

“You should not stand in the wind, your majesty,” she says softly, as Yeon Hwa warms her hands.

“I’m waiting for word - how is the crown prince?”

The old woman watches her with a sympathy that she hates and slowly shakes her head.

“Still feverish, the physicians have not left his side.”

Yeon Hwa nods stiffly, clasping her hands to hold on to some warmth as she turns away.

“Where is that woman?” She asks then, her tone burning with suppressed fury. “Has she been found yet?”

The old court lady shakes her head yet again, there is blame in her eyes, Yeon Hwa can very well see. After all she had been nagging all the while not to trust in shamans. That old fool - who cannot see that her boy is at stake here.

“I’m afraid she has left the night itself, nobody had seen where she went…possibly after realizing the magnitude of what she did…”

“The Ryus, she must have gone to them -” Yeon Hwa breaks off suddenly at the sound of hooves, her ladies scattered around the lawn gather closer to their queen as the envoy breaks through the gates of the estate.

It has been a while - she thinks to herself as her eyes set themselves upon her brother approaching. There is no warmth stirring in her heart at the sight of him, and she notes the same coldness in his eyes as well. They were no longer siblings to each other but pawns at the disposal of one another.

Her heart sinks as the men come to a halt.

“The emperor? His majesty? Where is his majesty?” Her tone rises a notch, seemingly hysterical at the sight of her traitor brother instead of her husband. Hysterical she is, but not at the thought of Wook’s victory - for that has never been their motive.

Yeon Hwa crosses the lawn to stand in front of Wook, her eyes flashing and hands balled.

“Where is he?”

“The emperor did not accompany us,” Wook tells her, is tone mild yet full of warning.

“Did - not -” Yeon Hwa repeats blankly before stepping closer. “You were supposed to bring him here! How could you - possibly - lose him?” She hisses, restraining herself with effort from shaking Wook.

Wook shoots her a warning glance, trying to place a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“You must hold yourself together - your majesty.”
”The hawks,” Yeon Hwa says. “Where is that lord Park?”

But before any of the guardsmen would answer her, there was a shrill scream from inside.

“The prince! The crown prince!”

**

There is a woman, seated in the shadows, drawing smoke from a long stemmed ornate pipe. She draws in a particularly long breath and her lashes flutter close, before she parts her lips and puffs out a ring of smoke. Her eyes are red when she opens them, as if they burn with the intensity of her gaze. The woman looks decadent, with regal features frayed with age. Rouge is thickly applied to hide the darkened tone of her lips and they remain perpetually twisted, her eyes heavily lined with kohl. The dowager queen Jeon Deok, looks pleased with something that particular evening.

“Yeon Hwa - Yeon Hwa, when will your play end…?” She asks, eyes still closed, tendrils of smoke trails from her nostrils as if she is an angry dragon.

The woman before her, plasters herself on the floor, her shoulders visibly shaking.

“It could not go wrong - your grace, I’ve done everything - every possible thing correctly…yet…”

“Somebody has stopped you - somebody has to. A blood curse you say, to the father through the son?” She does not sound disappointed. The woman on the floor seems to realize the same, she raises her head a fraction and glances at the dowager queen. “If I’m not mistaken - only blood itself could block it?”
”It is not possible - his majesty has no other children…”

“Oh you may never know with men -” the dowager queen waves a dismissive hand, blows another ring of smoke. “You’ve done well - Shin Young, I’ve expected nothing less when I send you to the queen.”

Shin Young - the shaman Yeon Hwa had employed - finally raises her head. There is a mute surprise on her face, she does not voice it but the dowager queen reads her well.

“Ah - I lost a son to the schemes of that woman and her brother, it is only fair that she loses one too.”
”Your grace -?” Shin Young says blankly. “I thought you are an ally of the queen…”

“It is Seo Nui who is blindly in love, not me. I’ve send men to fetch you from there before the queen orders to skin you alive, doesn’t that speak of my mind - Shin Young - ah, I consider raising pigs for slaughter beneath me.” She sets aside the pipe and stretches out a bejewelled hand to gesture for Shin Young to rise. “You are one of my most valued assets - I still have uses of you.”
”I wouldn’t have aided this war at all if not for Seo Nui - at the time, it was better to leave the events to play out as you had rightly suggested. Now that the eighth prince  himself severed ties between us - it will cure her lovelorn heart.”

“His highness has severed the ties?”

“Oh well, if he is going to deny ever plotting treason - he could not possibly have married Seo Nui could he?”

Shin Young steadies herself, blowing a silent breath.

“Your grace had known all alone?”

“I’ve been a queen for more winters than Daemok has lived, she is yet to find a trick that fools me. It may be the order of the king - but who led Won on that path of destruction? Who was to profit from all that treason?”

“So your grace do not resent the emperor?” Shin Young takes the information with wonder, for there had been no questioning of the dowager queen’s fury when the decree found her.

“I detest him alright, but I do not want him dead just yet,” queen JeonDeok shrugs. “You must never let your fury control you - my late father used to say. Good man he was - made good use of all his daughters.”

“Then why did your grace allow things to -”

“There is profit - there was - you may never reach the sheep unless you don sheepskin.” She sighs and reaches out for her pipe. “Hwangbos will pay for their deceptions…What Ryus need is a queen - pity Seo Nui ruined her chances.”

“Then - princess Mun Hee?”

The dowager queen snorts.

“You need not look that far -” queen Jeon Deok blows a ring of smoke in Shin Young’s face. “I think I already have just the person in my mind - but you have to aid me in this Shin Young - ah, you would won’t you?”

“Anything your grace wishes,” Shin young bows, “Anything at all.”

“Come -” there is a guest you must attend to.”

The dowager queen rises, her perpetually twisted lips flattening into a thin smile.

**

His face is white - it is all that she could think of. The cold outside had numbed her mind so much so that she did not feel the fear she knew is twisting - coiling, tighter and tighter with each minute. Her hands are tainted red by the time she peels off the armor. And they tremble - oh they tremble that the metal slips from her grip and lands on the ground.

She has no eyes for that.

“So - god no - please!”

She could have dealt with the bleeding, but the poison - her mind whirls. It is all that she could see, the dark and thick blood that oozes from the arrow hole, poison!

Instead she focuses on his face, her cool palm pressed against his cheek. And she implores as her eyes blur with tears.

“Please - wake up!”

“Soo - yah…” He rasps restlessly.

She cannot bring herself to reply, instead resting her forehead against his, she caresses his face.

“Stay - stay - stay,” she chants against his skin with her eyes shut. “I did not mean it when I said I want to forget it all - I did not mean it, I did not know. I didn’t imagine it would hurt so much - please - please - God, spare him - spare him for me!”

Just beyond the threshold, Jung stills abruptly, and turns around, leaning against the wall - white faced. Mun Hee watches him with mild curiosity, it had been a whirl wind of events, from assassins to fleeing, chasing and escaping. Now that they were here - firmly shut from the storm ranging outside, under a roof of her people - she wondered why she still felt on the edge - unsafe.

“What is it?” She asks, scowling at Jung.

He shakes his head, looking quite ill himself as he balances himself with a hand on the wall.

“It is nothing.”

She wishes to inquire him further - but never finds the chance. Instead footsteps are approaching them and inside Jang Mi rises to her feet, pulling out the emperor’s sword with a flash.

Mun Hee winces at the look on her mother’s eyes as they sweep over her, taking in her disguise and finally rest on Jang Mi. She raises a heavy eyebrow, looking midly amused.

“This is not quite the greeting I had expected - consort Kang,” she tells her, voice aloof. “Will you draw blade on your aunt?”

Behind her shoulder, Shin Young appears, fumbling slightly and pale with nerves. Jang Mi’s knuckles turn white around the hilt of the sword.

“Oh heavens!” Exclaims Jeon Deok. “Put that away you silly girl - I would hardly assassinate the emperor under my roof. Shin Young knows the poison addling him.”

 

Notes:

Its a little twist I've added for the convenience of my plot, that JM's mother was a lady from Ryu clan. Thus making Jeon Deok one of her maternal aunts. :-)
This is sort of a transitional chapter, with nothing much happening but necessary for the development of the story.
Do share your thoughts!
Thanks for reading :-)

Chapter 29: Moon

Summary:

Survivors are cruel.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The knife hisses and Shin Young sees little more than a flash of silver before it flashes past her - sparing her by a hair breadth before sinking into the wooden frame of the door shut behind her. It stills her heart nevertheless and makes her quite breathless for a long moment. It had been a while since the confrontation between the dowager queen and the consort of the ailing king and she had not quite expected the attack upon her reentry.

The woman in question - consort Kang sits by the emperor’s bedside, looking pale herself now that she has removed the outer robes of inky blue and the furs that hid her pallor. There is no expression in her face - Shin Young thinks - she is not going to leave his side. Instead, her eyes are drawn to the glimmer of silver in her hand and Shin Young flinches involuntarily. Another knife - dainty yet pointed, is being tossed between her slender fingers.

“Your grace,” she says, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“You were the one -” she replies, continuing to toss the knife. “You cursed him?”

“I -” Shin Young rushes to her side and busies herself to inspect the wound. “This is no curse -” she says then. “The poison - it comes from a flower - that grows in abundance around here. Few knows of its lethal properties - the dried filament looks deceivingly similar to a certain spice -” she rattles to a silence when the cold blade touches her throat.

“Your mistress speaks of me?” Consort Kang whispers. “Has she mentioned how cruel I could be?” She adds when Shin Young nods silently. “Yes - very well.” One of the slender white hands pick up the untouched goblet full of concoction that Shin Young had brewed for the emperor - the antidote. Shin Young blenches at the sight.

“Your grace -”

“Your antidote is spiked with the essence of another flower - the favorite of your mistress is it not? A mere drop mixing with blood could make a man a slave to its addiction - tell me - Shin Young, does my aunt take me to be a fool?”

“Your grace -”

“Attempting to kill your monarch is punished by death are you aware? First they would beat you to an inch of death - skin you alive - before chopping your head off. I’ve been hearing most creative methods of torture recently - so Shin Young, should I spare you the horror and finish it off right now?”

“Her grace the dowager -”

“Will live - she has that uncanny ability doesn’t she? But who would save you - Shin Young? Who would avenge your sister?”

The young woman blinks - dumbfounded at the words of the consort.

“Your grace?”

“You have her eyes - Sun Young - your sister? It was your mistress that send her to be my companion. There was another - a little traitor - Da Young?”

The younger woman trembles and consort Kang pauses only for a moment.

“I was there when she died. It was too late for me to ease her passing. But the poison, I’ve recognized well enough. Whatever your mistress must have told you - it had nothing to do with the plague and nor was it my father’s order that took her life.”

“Then what could possibly…”

The blade presses closer and moves away.

“I’m trying to find out the same. If you are to be a spy - Shin Young - choose your side wisely. I am not a merciful creature - contrary to what many believe. Pose a threat to his majesty again - I will rip you apart!”

“Your grace - I -”

“Make it again. The concoction.”

“Thank you - your grace!”

Once she is gone Soo presses her fingers to the base of her throat, gasping a little, applying pressure where her pulse raced. It is not easy, the words she had spoken leaves her tongue scalded and her heart racing. Fear, she realizes, makes her cruel in the same way it does to any survivor. She reaches for his hand instinctively taking it between her palms.

“We shall survive,” she mutters, pressing his fingers to her lips reverently. “You and I.”

**

The storm whistles in her ears and Seo Nui could only draw her cloak tighter over her head. It is important, she reminds herself. Her life - her future - depended on this one journey. She must make it to the prince - her prince - before the tide turns.

She would not believe it for a moment, that Wook would betray her. It was not the man he was, no - it is not possible that she had learned of his true motives so very late. It is not possible that it had not truly been love, but a wager of the game of politics being played around her all this time. It is not possible. She will not believe it. And she will not let her mother annul their marriage, by the emperor’s order.

It had been almost impossible to escape the Ryu guards once she had been returned to her mother. No matter how many times she had tried to explain that it had been agreed between them, that she had not really been in any danger but being escorted by the prince’s personal guard to a safe location - her mother would not take her word for it.

Seo Nui gritted her teeth. This was her last opportunity to break out of that woman’s iron clenched fist. She was not going to let it slip by.

If Wook plans to ingrain himself to the emperor’s good graces she knew exactly where he could be. The journey - though it was an utter madness to try in such a weather - is a short one. She could almost see the black wall of the Kangs ahead. Almost - in all the swirling whiteness. Or perhaps it is her imagination.

“A rider!”

She hears it faintly, a sound that is barely there in the howling winds that takes away its power. But Seo Nui knows it is a shout - a shout from the guard towers. A blessing - she tells herself as her teeth clatters. A blessing.

She cannot bring herself to sit straight on her mount, as her face is buried in its mane, gathering the scraps of warmth that does nothing to stop her jaws from locking themselves.

The course - she tries to think. The wall - was it ahead - somewhere around - has she missed it entirely?

The cold - the snow - she hears her teeth rattling in her head. The prince - Wook - Wook…

There are warm hands peeling her off the freezing horseback, voices and people that surround her.

“Wook…” she thinks aloud. It is him that holds her and she sinks - deeper and deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

“She’s freezing!” A voice comments. “Send word ahead.”

“To the dowager queen - your highness?”

There is a pause, but the palms rubbing warmth into her cheeks never stop.

“No -” the voice breaks off. “To consort Kang, use the shadow channels.”

“Wook?” She mutters uncertainly. A lot of the passing conversation makes no sense to her.

“Yes. You are safe… safe…” confirms the voice and she believes him and allows the darkness to swallow her whole.

**

“She glows,” mutters Shin Young. It is a chant that comes to her unbidden as she drains the poultice for the emperor once more. “She glows.”
She hasn’t forgotten the words of her mistress, the dowager queen of Ryus. She is to be the companion to the consort - the spy to the dowager. The young woman shivers. The gaze of the consort travels down her spine like a chill.

“She glows.” She mutters again and Shin Young knows the plans of the dowager will come naught. The plans the mistress had finally shared with her. Her plans for the emperor - for the princess and the consort. The woman she had known since long - only focuses on the benefits - the wealth - the power. She would discard a son to save her neck, throw away a daughter to save her clan. A niece - did not matter much.

But - Shin Young thinks. The time itself will change its path tonight. That woman - was not to be crossed. That woman was not to be cursed.

“If you are to be a spy,” she had said. Shin Young thinks with trembling hands. “Choose your side wisely.”
As if - she draws in a breath. As if she has a choice.

“She glows -” Shin Young mutters again. “She glows like the moon.”

Notes:

If you look through the facts you will find another prince whose birth name is Wook. That will be all I'm saying on the matter. ;-) It is an AU anyway. :-) :-)
Shin Young, Sun Young and Da Young are originally slaves owned by the dowager queen of Ryus. Since they are slaves they don't have a family name. But since I wanted to draw attention to the connection, I choose them names that look somewhat similar. Perhaps the dowager named them so.
Do share your thoughts and please bear with the short chapters and unexpected delays for the time being. Winter semester is beginning to kill me. :-)

Chapter 30: Sinking

Summary:

He is all she has to win or lose...

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The smell of burning earth sears its way into his lungs. It reminds him of the autumn grass - easily catching fire and the wolves the flames keep at bay - and a girl singing. 

It is a song of the mountain, brought across the hills by their ancestors. A song about them, the riders, fighters, and miles upon miles of high grass. 

It is a prayer - she says - that keeps them safe. He indulges her, anything that keeps the fear away. 

“You shouldn’t have come -” he bites out. Gratitude is a strange feeling, even though she has done little to save him he appreciates the thought. While her step brothers conspire to murder him she had taken the initiative to warn him. 

The girl rocks herself, curled under the threadbare cloak, chin on her knees. Her song comes to an abrupt halt as she considers his words. 

“You said PatPat was a friend,” she says slowly. In her wide blown eyes he could see the silhouette of the burning tree. He remembers - he had had her climb the tree once.  PatPat had saved her then. And he burned it. He knows what she means. 

“Sometimes you can’t save everyone,” he tries to shrug off the burden of guilt. 

“He was a friend.”

“That’s what friends do - they protect other friends.”
“Orabeoni?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to be a PatPat.”
“You won’t.”

“But you said you can’t save everyone.”

He turns to look at her. Only her face is popping out of the cloak, tinted in gold firelight. 

“We shall survive,” he tells her with conviction. “You and I.”

She watches him for a moment longer - unblinking as if weighing his words and then she turns away and resumes her song picking up from where she left off. Her voice is soft, childishly blunt and he allows it to wash over him as they sit huddled on a stone perch - a cave entrance. The world below tumbles to flames. 

 

**

Consciousness comes in wisps and she is singing again. His first thought is of her as his last had been. In between, in the gaps of his conscious, her words fill in. They are incoherent, more of a chant than a song. But still they conjure images of hills - grass and wolves - 

He blinks against them. 

The golden glow of candles reminds him the yellow eyes of wolves - blinking, prowling - bidding their time. All he can see is her unbound hair and the smudges of ink on her fingers absentmindedly stroking his hair. He realizes she is praying, to their gods of hills, there is a catch in her voice, a weight of unshed tears. 

She does not realize he is awake. He shuts his eyes to the comforting darkness, allowing her another moment of oblivion and feels her lips press against his for the briefest of moments. 

Her sigh curls into his ear and her fingers are cold trailing over his face. There is a greed in that touch, mixed with a bitter note of finality - a farewell. It sears something within him - part desire and part something much more deeper - a forewarning. He must not let her go.

“My king,” she murmurs, forehead pressed against his, “my sins should not malign your name.”

His breath hitches and he coughs quite unexpectedly. His throat is on fire and he gasps for a breath. 

Her eyes snap open instantly, reaching for him with trembling fingers, offering him water to sip, soothing his parched throat. Suddenly he is confronted with the open greed in her eyes, watching him with hunger and longing of an eon burning behind her lashes, caressing his features as if to etch them permanently in her memory. There is elation of seeing him well and awake but then there is also a painful misgiving flicking in the shadows. Once his eyes stop watering, he observes her more carefully. Unease settles heavy on his stomach and he trails a hand across her cheek, threading his fingers into her hair, holding her wandering gaze on his eyes. 

“What is the matter?”

A flash of a painful thought crosses her expression and she bites her lip, shaking her head. He moves to sit up as she draws away from him. 

“Nothing - it is nothing.”

“Must I order you to speak truth?”

“Hyohwa is gone,” she closes her eyes before the words escape her mouth. Her fingers curl on the bedding, fists clenching. “I’m so sorry - so - so sorry!” Her voice breaks, as she scoots closer and leans her head on his shoulder. 

He feels numb for a moment - frozen - blank - empty. It is then that he realize he is clutching her shoulder, fingers digging into her flesh with a bruising force. It must hurt - he thinks - he must stop - but finds himself unable to unclench his fingers - unable to do anything at all. 

She says Hyohwa - not the crown prince - she calls him for what he was - a baby, an infant, not a contender, not a faction, nor the other woman’s son. 

“When?” He asks her, it takes effort to form that word. “When?”

“Morning of the duel.”

“We never had a celebration for him,” he says suddenly and her fingers move into his hair. A soothing pressure against his scalp as she brings him deeper into her embrace. Buried against her pulse he tries to swallow the guilt. “We never feasted for his long life - we never -”

“Shh -”

“I’ve been a cruel father.” He does not want to be consoled, or forgiven, not when he has wronged someone who did not even understand he was being wronged. His son - that tiny - precious boy! “He always seemed so warm - I can’t imagine him being cold - I -”

“Your majesty did not cause his death,” she says slowly detaching herself from him. “I did. And for that I must be punished.” Her eyes are red and she clasp her trembling fingers together. “It is fine - I’m fine,” the words that she mutter are not meant for his ears, he hears them anyway and holds her back when she tries to move away. She clasps a hand over his trying to free herself. 

“I did use witchcraft.” She says bluntly. “It is true. I’ve tempted with fate and caused a poor child to die in my stead. It cannot be forgiven - I cannot be forgiven. I was blinded by hatred, I didn’t think - I couldn’t - I must offer myself up for adjudication.”

“No.”

“I killed your son!” She exclaims. 

“No. You failed to save him, perhaps, we both did. But you saved my daughter. You saved me. I haven’t forgotten.”

“You don’t understand!” Despair, it takes her under. It is too much a burden to bear that Jang Mi finds it possible to give up on the only thing she had ever wanted; her revenge. She would not want it at the cost of his life - the thought, the realization makes her catch her breath. Wasn’t that what she was doing - choosing to die for him? So that they won’t find a ground to turn the accusation against the emperor? When had it become so natural - so absolute? “It’s me or Seol.”

“Ji Mong was here.” He says. It is not a question, merely an observation. 

“He brought word of the terrible news - and he is right. For a moment all I wanted was to snatch everything from her for what she did to me and I didn’t think of the consequences - I didn’t think of the innocents bearing burnt of my actions. I’ve been evil - lusting for things that do not belong to me. If I don’t give up, he is going to tell the queen. He will - he is too greedy of keeping the history unchanged.” She snorts, for a moment not caring that he would find it odd to have his present referred to as history. His grip only tightens around her wrist. 

“Fate does not belong to him either -”

“But I -” she squeezes her eyes shut unable to utter the words that ailed her conscience. There was blood of an infant on her hands, she bites back a sob, until she tastes the sting of metallic blood on her tongue. “I’ve threatened to torture a woman for following orders! I’ve manipulated someone’s despair to ensure my own safety - I - I’m so corrupt - I’m not worth the risk -”

He presses the knuckles of the hand he had been holding tightly to his mouth, cutting her off abruptly.

“I forbid you to leave the line of my sight.” His tone is firm.

She swallows thickly and stares at him, her mind suddenly blank. For a second she catches herself expecting him to pull her closer despite her own resolve to put distance between them. Instead she finds herself focusing on his thumb caressing the back of her palm, as he watches her with avid focus. 

“I can’t lose her,” her voice breaks. “I can’t lose you.”

Her breath comes short, her heart picks up. 

“You mustn’t…”

“I’m not going to lose you again,” he states, quite plainly. “I haven’t quite forgiven myself for failing you once. It will never happen again.”

“It was my own heart that killed me,” she tells him slowly. “I was sick, I was dying.”

For some reason his jaw clenches, and he trails his fingers lightly across her jaw.

“Indulge me this once -” he tells her. 

“But Seol -” She looks away refusing to meet his eyes, knowing full well she would have to keep her tattering resolve intact. 

“Daemok knows about her.” It feels like he had emptied an ice bucket on her head. She jerks back and stares at him numbly. “She had always known.”

“How - why -”

“It was the physician -” he pauses and grits his teeth. “The physician that I sent for you...” His breath shudders. “I am always the reason - my sword - my meal - my -”

“No - your majesty,” she cannot bear the ghosts in his eyes and reaches out instinctively. It is of Eun that he thinks - forced to die at his blade, it is Hyohwa - and her.

“It was slow poison that you thought was medicine.” He tells her bitterly. “I knew it too late - I - all I could do was take Seol closer, Chingju is not safe for her.”

She is numb still, yet her arms wrap around him when he reaches for her. He is warm and slightly feverish, she notes when they press together. 

“I don’t want to lose anyone again,” he mutters against her throat. “Not to her, never to her. Don’t go - don’t go…!” 

His arms around her tighten desperately. It is a grip of a man drowning in his own bottomless sea of melancholy. She strokes through his hair helplessly, admitting to herself that she could not leave him in such a state. He was ill, injured and in pain. Still, he had ridden out that day to get to her - take her to safety, at the risk of his own life. She could not possibly throw it all away in a bout of guilt.

Her heart weeps for the poor child, for her own shortsightedness at not guessing Daemok would hang the boy in the other side of the balance. But as he had said, she was not the one who had committed that last inhumane act of cruelty. It was Daemok. How could she - how on earth could anyone?

But the woman had power and a court at her beck and call. She had Ji Mong who would testify for her and against Jang Mi - anything to get her off the path. Then there was Seol to protect. There was Shin Young - the only person who could fight off what was coming - who could save the emperor. Above all - there was So. 

The wolves were gathering and the path ahead was dark. It was no longer about revenge, or retribution. Finally, it was about survival. She draws him closer, he had fallen back to a fitful slumber, still holding her close, burrowing into her warmth. He was all she had - to win or lose. 

She starts to sing again, slowly, meticulously, the age old words of her ancestors. She prays - and she prays.

Notes:

This is sort of a page break, a section of the story is officially done.
I like to indulge myself that Hae Soo could be a victim of another plot. There was a lot going on in that palace.
Anyway, I'm really sorry about Hyohwa but I had it planned this way from the beginning.
With that said, the most important of notes, you won't hear from me for a while. I'm having exams again. :-( probably around Christmas we'll see each other again.
In the meantime have fun, enjoy winter and I really hope you will hang around to see this to the end with me though I take long to update unlike I did before.
Thank you so much for being the wonderful readers that you are, and for keeping me inspired!
Until we meet again!

Chapter 31: Atonement

Summary:

A change of heart.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chun arrives at twilight with three other men buried under heavy cloaks accompanied by the Grand Prince Anjong. It is the last she had seen of them, after greeting them at the courtyard and expressing her gratitude for honoring her invitation. Jang Mi has no interest in the King’s council, not at the moment, there is instead a pilgrimage to be made.

The soft cottony snow is a kiss upon each stone she chooses with care. Stacking them one upon the other, she tries to gather her thoughts or retain her tears.

“You are beginning to forget your roots,” her hand stills for a mere second before continuing and Shin Young lays a cloak over her shoulders obediently. “Your grace,” she adds. “You are losing yourself and turning into her with each passing day.”

Jang Mi wonders for a moment if it is meant as a warning - as if she is supposed to guard herself against the inevitable. She shakes her head then.

“I’m planting new roots,” she says. “It does not matter who I am, there is no battle between us.” It is no lie, for she is as much Ha Jin as she is Jang Mi, both lives her own, both lifetimes worth of memories - happiness and pain.

“Is it worth - your grace?”

Instead of laying a new stone she catches a snow flake allowing it to melt against the heat of her palm.

“I’ve uprooted the fate Shin Young - it is the best I could hope for,” her words are slow, weighed with thoughts. It is what the confrontation with Ji Mong had made her realize. The price of this second chance. By crossing the distance of an eon between them she had robbed So of his fate - his world of its certainties. “Bring candles for me - will you?”

The old man with all his accusations and guilt trapping had taken the only reassurance she had held to. The history has changed. Ha Jin knew that much herself. The prince should not have died. The lady Kang should not have become a consort. And now - as she had once known for certain, had taken shelter in the knowledge - there was no certainty that So would succeed in his endeavour - that he would survive - live the long and fulfilling life she had read about. Now there were no facts from then to depend on - no way of knowing the future - no place to return to. That future - where she had been Go Ha Jin who was betrayed by her friend and lover has vanished on the heat of her choices. No - this moment and each moment to come, will be as fresh as the snow falling over her. Untouched, unseen - unforeseen.

She could do nothing but pray like anyone else living in the moment.  

Or she could bear the weight of her choices as Ji Mong had challenged her and weather it through, build them a new fate from scratch - like she was building herself. Neither Ha Jin - nor Jang Mi, but someone in between. Someone who belongs in this era of blood and deceit.

The candles burn against the snow melting into the stones she stacked in prayer.

“Will you grieve alone?” His voice makes her jump, her eyes fluttering open. She might have taken longer than she realized for the council to have adjourned and the emperor to join her.

Her hands tremble as they cover the flickering candle light against the wintry breeze. No words occur to her. Shin Young had left, leaving the candles within her reach and the emperor joins her, picking up a candle thoughtfully.

“You consoled me but would not allow me to do the same?”

Baek Ah might have told him - or perhaps it was Chun.

“This grief is not your majesty’s,” when she finds them, her words are bitter. “Nor would Hae Soo mourn my father,” Jang Mi doesn’t mean to say that and only realizes she had spoken aloud when the emperor stills. She deliberately looks away, biting back on her anguish. So would not mourn him - her father had been anything but horrible to him all his youth. But she - how could she - “and it is the way of mountains. We are loud in joy and -”

“Quiet in grief…” He supplies quietly himself.

She could taste blood where her teeth sink into her lower lip, keeping a shuddering sob at bay. He had asked her to make her choice, had warned her that staying with him would mean to lose her identity as Jang Mi. It had not mattered then. And she wills herself not to crumble now.

But the loneliness rise in waves, threatening to overwhelm her. It is another outcome of her choices. Another life she had taken. And now - she is the last of her family -  apart from a brother her father had never acknowledged -the last Kang.

She opens her mouth to apologize that he had to see this after everything they had agreed upon. She is to be Soo to him, Soo not Jang Mi. But instead he wraps his arm around her, drawing her closer to the warmth that radiates from him and effectively steals the words at the tip of her tongue.

Wordlessly and despising herself for craving it so, she snuggles into his embrace, fisting a hand full of his robe. He says nothing. But there are fingers stroking through her hair, running their length down the back of her neck and spine.

“I heard you refused to go when the message came.”
He feels her shudder and draws her closer. She feels lighter in his arms, ragged, worn, exhausted. He wonders if he had done that to her, broken her spirit as he had once extinguished the light of Soo’s eyes.

“They wanted to use the news to draw me out, it was not funeral rites but a questioning I was summoned to.” something akin to her voice offers. So sighs. He contemplates for a moment if he should admit that he heard, that he knows, of how the Hwangbo forces had swarmed the Kang compound under the pretext of searching for the emperor. “The summon was written under hand of the queen’s brother.” His silence as it etches out prompts her to keep talking. “He has an axe to grind with me.”

“You’ve restrained his wife.”

She draws away from him staring intently at her candles. The light burns her eyes, prickling them with tears that refuse to fall.

“The dowager queen tried to burrow my hand to poison your majesty. I wanted a harness to rein her in.”
She says no more as her vision blurs and So finds himself swallowing. He muses briefly if she realizes what she had done. Simply for the sake of protecting him for a handful of days she had thrown away everything that could have shielded her from the brewing storm - her clan - her aunt - her last chance to escape. And he knows the unspoken part of the bargain as well. He had not seen her since regaining his conscious - since the night she had spoken about Hyohwa’s death. It was always an overenthusiastic agent of the dowager queen that tended him, as if to highlight her good will - the extent of her welcome.

The candle light tints her in gold, each escaped strand that frames her face a fine thread that glitters. It is not ignorance he realizes, she knows perfectly well what she had done. His heart tightens at the thought - he knows exactly why she had done that.

He had once told her there was no need of pretence between them, that he was aware of her contempt for him. But it was no longer a charade of survival - there had been no certainty that he would survive and save her in time, that he would see through the antics of the dowager queen to distance them. She is still the girl who had jumped walls and climbed a precipice to warn him of wolves - save him. And he is aware of this emotion as well.

“This is not a mourning,” she says then. “It is atonement.” Her head is bowed hiding her tears. “I’ve always been a failure of a daughter. I led them both to death. I failed them all. Lady Aunt spoke true words, I am the doom of a clan.”

The heat of his palms sear against her frozen cheeks. It is a touch that comes quite unexpectedly that she stares at him, at loss. There is a tenderness in his eyes that fills her with a strange longing. Not for me - she tries to remember - for Soo. But it becomes harder as his thumbs draw circles on her flesh wiping a trace of moisture away.

“Please…” her voice is a murmur. I beg you. She is unclear if she implores for him to continue or to stop, her thoughts - intentions and needs blurring into one another. “please…” she says again.

She tries to think of her father - surrounded by enemies and left undefended by his own daughter - she has no doubts about how his last moment would have come about. She tries to summon enough guilt to drown away the tide of emotions rising.

“You’ve forgotten the way of mountains,” he says gently. “We don’t grieve alone.”

“I am alone,” she exhales, the realization settling, the loneliness crushing. She thinks of Kang Seo, sent away from war for his safety with Seol and lady Noh, and her lips tremble.

“No.” His fingers dig into her flesh insistently. “You have me. I do not grieve him, but I grieve your loss.” And I am indebted for every feeling I cannot return.

Her head settles heavily on his shoulder and she closes her eyes. There are shadows of weariness marring her features and he wraps an arm around her. “Let it go,” he says. “Rest.”

She tries her best but the tide drowns her. There is warmth in his embrace, tenderness in his eyes and she feels safe. She feels loved. For a moment greed fills her soul, wanting - needing - longing - it drowns her. For a moment she forgets their bargain, forgets her revenge, forgets the ambition for which she dealt her life - and wants to be the acquirer of that love. She wants to be Hae Soo.

“Forgive me,” she mutters crossing the distance between them and presses her lips to his with a sigh of regret. She expects rejection, steels herself against obvious hurt. Just once - she consoles herself - just this once, allow me this once.

Instead his arm wrapped around her draws her close. Her mouth parts in a gasp of surprise and what was intended to be a chaste peek, grows deep. His hand cradles her cheek, his mouth insistent on hers, gentle but lingering, swallowing her exhales, inhaling for her. And she finds herself ablaze, every nerve end searing with want, alive, awake and burning. He strokes the flames, slow and calculated - each caress of his sword - hardened fingers making her toes curl.

When they break apart, she is trembling, clutching at the fur on his shoulders and thralled by his darkened gaze.

“You are cold,” he says, his breath fanning her face in warm clouds.

“Your majesty is cold too.”

She tries to laugh it off, pull away - put that moment of weakness behind her. But something keeps her rooted on the spot, unable to tear her gaze away, unable to draw her hand away from touching his face, her fingers from trailing the faint edges of the scar running under his eye.

She recalls Shin Young’s words from before. “There will be child - a prince - his father in spirit - his mother in resilience.”

He takes her hands and blows hot air on her palms and she shudders again, overwhelmed, trying to withhold the words that she yearns to speak.

“Be with me tonight,” he voices the unspoken. “I wish to hold you.”

**

She falls asleep easily, as if the weight of several sleepless nights had finally engulfed her. Spent and content, wrapped in him, cheek pressed against his throat, he could feel each stir of her exhale upon his skin as he lies awake. Try as he might, So cannot bring himself to sleep.

He is ruining her. She is in love with him and the realization that he may never return the feeling suffocates him. It is not her he seeks, or wants, or finds it agonizing to part with. It is not to her his heart belongs. It is the part of her that is Hae Soo - his Soo. But it is not just to use someone in this manner - like a cure, an addiction, the only salvation - as a medium of having the woman he loved in his arms - especially not a woman with a live beating heart of her own.

And he knows exactly how Hae Soo might have felt, when she told him she had never wished for his heart. He fears exactly that - for she was won over, though it took time, though it almost killed him, he won her over. What if - his own heart one day betrays her? No - he cannot love her, no matter how much he is indebted to her. He cannot - he will not.

And she doesn’t expect him to - it hurts him more. I am alone. She had said. She had apologized for feeling, for grieving her father - for being her. He swallows.

I don’t want to be a Pat Pat…

She had ever only wanted to live and not to be betrayed and he had wanted to sacrifice her so that Soo could return. Still she chose to be his human shield. Soo would never forgive him for the monster he had become.

She stirs in her sleep, pressing herself closer to him in the process and warmth washes over him along with the need to protect her.

He will see to it that she is untouched, unharmed and unscathed. Even if he could not - would give her the love she deserves, he would make her a queen, it is the least he could do.

**

Yeon Hwa stares at her hands. They are caked with blood - dried and deteriorated in color, but the pungent smell is still there. There is a buzz that fills her head, drowning her thoughts and numbing her mind. She feels the same blood staining her face - in splatters, streaks that have dried up with time.

She had killed someone. She cannot remember who. She cannot remember why she wears their blood. But she remembers the feeling of taking a life, remembers the exhilaration that had filled her. Like some potent wine. That thought is not hers. No - she shakes her head, fingers trailing over her hair. That thought wasn’t hers.

It is only beginning. Now all the tracks are covered.

There is someone in her head, she thinks hysterically. No - it cannot possibly be. It is this haunted establishment - this compound of horrid Kangs - playing tricks on her mind. It’s her grief, her guilt, it’s exhaustion.

But why is she so dirty? Why is she covered in blood?

She wants to screech. But good sense stops her.

She is not the first to lose a son. No. But perhaps, she will be the first to avenge it.

She knows it is not her own thought, but for once she doesn’t mind. It is right. She thinks, wrapping her arms around herself and slowly rocking herself into calmness. It is true.

There is someone who deserves death above all.

**

 

Notes:

Uh oh I donno what to say. I guess it is quite self explanatory. But your thoughts are welcome!

Chapter 32: Saudade

Summary:

All he could do is set her free...even when nothing weighs heavier than her absence.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He fears of awaking her, as he gently brushes off the creases between her brows. It should not have come to this - that he fears the mere thought of hurting her. It has nothing to do with the charm, if there ever was one, that washed from the gold of candlelight she looks so crushingly beautiful - that his own selfishness suffocates him. He is ruining her… in the most devastating way possible. And he wants it to stop, wants to stop her from burning herself to light up the darkness within him. It has to stop… and he must be the one to do it. 

So squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, or trying to, going over everything once again. What he remembers first is Baek Ah’s pressed lips, the displeasure he tries his best to keep from showing. It is he who brings the shaman, the woman Jang Mi tries hide - the woman who had cursed him and who swears her loyalties have since changed. And she explains why he heals so quickly, why he never quite feels the pain he expects.

“It is what a talisman does…”

He thinks of the nightmares that no longer presses into his conscious, the non - existent itch of healing wounds. And he thinks of how pale and worn and lost she looks, crushed under a burden that did not belong to her. 

“What must be done to end it?” He manages to ask drily. 

“Distance…” the woman replies evasively.  

It feels like a physical ache, considering the possibility. He knows nothing could be as heavy as her absence. Having survived her departure once, he wonders if he could - 

“No,” he hears himself. “Not possible.”

The woman has a gaze that makes him shift. It reminds him of his stepmother. The sort of indifference in her eyes makes his skin prickle with unease. She watches him, silent, calculating. Not lowering her eyes like she ought to in front of her monarch. He chooses not to comment on that. They need the woman, need her to testify for them. She would be his trump card, once that time comes. 

Then with a slow movement she takes out a silk pouch and hands it to Chun, with trembling fingers. 

“Your majesty is not the only thing killing her.”

She stirs at the faintest brush of fingertips and her lashes flutter, lips parting in a sigh. “Soo,” he mutters to himself, a chant to anchor himself before the greed drowns his good sense in possibilities of him and her. “Forgive me.” They are but tasteless words. She had been lost to him for ages. “I can’t let her die…forgive me.”

Distance of body and heart. 

I am about to do something cruel.”

**

“Get a grip of yourself!” Yeon Hwa shudders at the tone of her mother. Standing at the darkened doorway, looking like a shrunken tree she watches her with disapprovingly cold eyes. Yeon Hwa blinks, as if waking up from a trance and wipes her hands once more. 

The blood remains - sticky, sickly and glaringly obvious. She feels dirty. She rubs her palms together, rubs them until they start to ache, until her mother snatches up her hands in mid - movement. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” She says. 

“There’s blood -” her tone sounds blank as if she comments on weather, and it makes her shudder again, inwardly. “There’s blood on my hands.”

“There’s nothing on your hands girl - pull yourself together!”

Leaving her hands the old dowager queen sizes her shoulders and shakes her, until her teeth begins to clutter. 

“You don’t have time for this - Daemok, wake up!”

The title that she hates, scratches against her ears. It makes her flinch and her mother’s grip loosens. 

“The Ministers are gathering - they need a queen to bow down to, you can’t lose them Yeon Hwa. You get but one chance before his majesty reclaims his place.”

“Hyohwa is gone.”

“Yes. And his killers must be punished. You have the sympathy of the court. You - the grieving queen - not the consort they are yet to see. Use it. Use them. Use this chance. Size the power before he returns.”

She exhales and closes her eyes. 

Power. Isn’t that what she had desired in the first place? Now that it was in the tips of her fingers - she draws in a breath - her mother is right, she can’t let her ghosts win over. 

None of it would matter, once she gets through this last line of fire. 

“He is going to oppose it.”

“He can try,” it is Wook who answers. He bows when their eyes meet. But she barely feels a sense of respect. Instead Yeon Hwa feels cold as she watches her brother approach. As if she is a bystander she watches the glance that passes between her mother and him. 

They have a different scheme - you are not aware of. Says the voice inside her head and she frowns. Poor queen of another’s play…

“We expect his majesty to oppose the law on sorcery. He would of cause try to stop consort Kang from being punished. It is only then that the court can be convinced that he is under her spell.” Wook explains, his words slow and calculated. “Let him do it, your majesty. It will incapacitate him faster.”

Yeon Hwa clutches her fists and wills herself to believe that this is what she wants - what she needs. The justice for her baby, peace for herself. But the feeling of her mother’s eyes on her is a weight that she cannot shake off, and the queasiness that fills her from the inside making her feel like she is wearing an ill - fitting skin is yet to wear off. 

“Prepare a bath for the queen,” her mother orders the ladies waiting upon her just as Wook takes his leave. “And perhaps some camomile tea?”

**

She dreams of her aunt, her face pale - her sunken eyes , blood dripping from her talons. She laughs at Jang Mi - strings of pears hanging from her hair chiming along. 

“My darling rose,” she says, stretching out a hand. The ice of her tone runs down her spine. As one talon smudges blood over her cheek. 

“No,” she murmurs. “No - you are dead.”

Concubine Kang’s mouth curls mockingly. 

“Tell me Rose, does it please you to sleep with a dog?”

She refuses to answer, refuses to get any closer to the woman who looms over her like a distorted shadow, even as her talon digs into the flesh of her cheek and draws down a painful trail towards her throat. The hand wraps itself around her throat and chokes her breath, making her rise her watering gaze to meet those cold - inhumane eyes. 

“You deserve what is coming…” she hisses. “Oh yes - you do!”

She laughs, laughs and laughs some more. 

It is the after echos of her laughter that she wakes up to, cold and shivering and alone. It feels somewhat ominous that she could still hear the laughter inside her head. Jang Mi jumps when Shin Young places a cold hand over hers. 

“Good morning your grace,” she bows as if avoiding her eyes. There is a smile curling her lips. “His majesty wishes to meet you in the courtyard. He advised to dress warmly.” The young woman moves away, carrying boxes wrapped in silk as she speaks. 

“What are they?”

“Gifts, your grace -” it is a new voice that answers, a voice she had not expected to hear. 

“Court lady Han -” her voice shakes as she acknowledges Eun Mi. She is a welcome sight, but then again, her appearance means that the emperor has decided to lift the concealment on his whereabouts.  

“Your grace,” Eun Mi bows again, beaming with unconcealed happiness. “It is a blessing to see you once more.”

“Is everyone here?”

“Yes, your grace, lord Park has re - summoned the emperor’s retinue.”

“And the gifts?”

“Wedding gifts - your grace, from the noble clans. Congratulatory gifts on your wedding.”

The unease settles over her like a shroud and Jang Mi swallows thickly. It feels like jaws of an invisible trap closing around her and she shivers involuntarily. 

“The Parks, the Ohs, the Ryus and Hwangbos…”

“I need to see them,” she says abruptly. She would be damned before a chest wrapped in silk incriminates her. “Each of them.”
“Of cause your grace - but you’ve received an imperial summon,” Shin Young chooses her words carefully. “If it pleases you, you can check each gift once you return.”

An involuntary sigh leaves her lips as she closes her eyes. So - wouldn’t do that to her, would he? No - he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not after everything. 

He is going to betray you… words of her aunt haunts her waking hours. Jang Mi shakes her head. 

“Help me dress,” she says, swallowing the knot forming in her throat.

**

Her mind is doomed to be occupied by a single obsession, that had written itself into everything she did, everything she saw and everything she dreamed of - including her fate. Her father had always wished a throne for her - but Jang Mi had craved nothing more than a passion - to thrive and be in present - to live. And So incites in her a yearning so strong to exist that he had her heart in its entirety at his disposal. Yet he looks at her as if he had just realized what love is. It hurts, leaving her to wonder how many lifetimes it would take for them to find their way to each other … if ever. 

And six steps were all that was left between them. Six steps of deep, untrodden snow. He could stretch out his hand and touch her - she could do the same though she chooses not to. For once she wanted to be a first choice, she wanted him to make a move to approach her. To choose her, knowing she is not Hae Soo.

He stands in the line between giving up and seeing how much more he can take. It is one thing to know what he ought to do, another to go through with it. She is changed, he sees it in her eyes, feels it on her skin, hear it in the catch of her breath when he reaches out to brush his knuckles against her cheek. She is too far gone to survive the heartbreak. 

“Your majesty summoned me?”

“I’ve been contemplating over what gift would suit you consort Kang.” He tells her, as he leads her away from her ladies with a warm hand on the small of her back. The formality of his tone makes her feel cold and somewhat disappointed. 

“It is my good fortune to be wedded to your majesty, what other gift would this consort dare to desire?” She replies him in kind, with monotonous words that makes her feel no warmer. 

In the line of her sight horses are saddled and waiting for them. It is only when they had approached the restless animals that he mutters in her ear. 

“Daemok has summoned the court.” So takes the reins from Chun with a silent nod and the younger man steps away with a brief bow towards her. She notes the wariness in his eyes and tries to keep the weight his words had placed on her from appearing on her expression. Out loud he says different words, fingers stretching through the stallion’s glossy mane. “It is hard to find something you lack, to constitute a gift but then -”

He takes her trembling fingers in a warmer hand and leads her to stroke through the lavish coat chestnut. “I thought of freedom.”

She tries to smile, but instead of stroking her gift horse her fingers interlace his. Jang Mi knows that the only event in which a queen could summon court is when the emperor is indisposed - or dying. To have Deamok summon the court was to indicate…

“Ride with me,” he says turning her to face him. “It’s a lovely morning.” He leans across her to check the straps of harness and offers in mild whisper. “I’m playing the part of an indulgent king.”
And she - his indulgence. 

Instead of a fetal injury if it is a young woman that holds him with Ryus at Jeongju, even after the battle that required his presence is over, it would indeed discredit the queen. Yeon Hwa would not take the stigma to her honor lightly.

The air is minty and freezing as they ride out. Chun accompanies them at a distance, followed by a handful of the king’s guard. Jang Mi asks no more, but instead her heart feels like a heavy weight at the base of her throat. 

“You are afraid,” she does not recognize that feeling until he names it. 

“Let’s stop,” her voice rattles. “I - I don’t wish to go any further.” she completes, pulling back the reins and forcing her mount to a stand still. His eyes are on her when she lifts her gaze to meet his. “Let me hear them, the words you wish no one else to overhear - your majesty.”

“You are wise enough,” he tells her, with no trace of emotion from before. “You already know, cousin.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, inhaling deeply the burning icy air. 

“Are they planting evidence now - is that why we are out here?” She hears the hooves of his stallion before her eyes open. He is much closer now, she could drown in his cold eyes. I am but another Pat Pat ?

“You should love only as much as you could bear to lose, cousin.” His indifference makes her want to shake him. Instead she clutches her fists, clenches her jaw. “You shouldn’t have loved me at all.”

She doesn’t move. That stillness worries him. There is a gleam in her eyes, stormy as they are - a fire that threatens to spill. 

“I never promised you my heart. I’ve been waiting for this chance for so long to lose it over you. I will not succumb to Daemok, you will not become my weakness.”

“A long time ago, a king had his lover executed - knowing she was at no fault but her love for him - and I thought you swore not to become a king of like him.”

He refuses to show her the gashes her words cut open. 

“It is Seol -” he tells her instead. “Dowager queen Jeong Deok has already dispatched her men to take her, and she will claim you are the one to demand it in exchange of her daughter’s life.” So takes the reins when her hands falter and it is his hand that she clasps tight. 

“Please tell me they did not touch her - or I’ll -”

“They are dead.” For a moment his tone loses the indifference. Instead he sounds furious. “Worry about yourself cousin for I am not going to speak on your behalf.”

“Instead you will allow them to rip me apart,” her tone, the resignation that colors it makes him want to reach out. It takes all the will he could master not to pull her into his arms. “How could I not know when I’ve been taught as a child the consequences of trusting a dog?”

“Watch your tongue, you impudent -”

“Your majesty just proved her right - everything my aunt had ever insisted upon - it is not I - your majesty proved her right.”

“I gave you no reason to think otherwise, cousin,” he tells her smoothly. “Haven’t we been clear on that since beginning? You mean nothing to me and I should mean nothing to you. You are not the woman whose face you are wearing.”

Those words find their mark and sink into her conscious. 

“Is that it?” She swallowed, unable to complete her sentence. She could no longer face him for it felt like she had stolen all the moments that she cherished, a thief lurking in his thoughts… and she thought she is close, so close to happiness. 

Unbidden she thinks of the woman she would never meet, but sees in her mirror, in the distorted ripples of bathing water. The woman she had tried to steal from and the woman who had stolen her very existence in return. 

“Run,” he says placing the reins back in her hands. “This is your last chance. You have nothing to care for, nothing holding you back. You have nothing.

“And spare you the hassle of watching me die?” She snaps, with no trace of respect or subservience. She tilts her chin and looks at him straight in the eye. “I am a Kang, I will die on my feet, with blood on my sword - no man - not even the son of heavens, will bring me to my knees!”

“There it is,” So thinks to himself. “Distance of body and heart.”

He watches her ride back, without a single glance at him. Her hair undone and flying in waves of darkness behind her. 

“Shadow her,” he tells Chun when he joins him looking crestfallen. “Not a single hair should be harmed.”

Notes:

Saudade is a Portuguese word that was once voted to be one of the most beautiful words in the world. It represnts a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.

It's so wrong of me to dump this load of sadness on you after such a long break... it was not intentional. But after 3k + I had to end the chapter here. Finally we've come to the elephant in the room. Hopefully the distance and other fronts to deal with would help them sort out what they really need.
Do share your thoughts, I always look forward to read your take.

On a much brighter note, thank you so much for all the good luck you've sent my way, they were much needed I assure you!

Enjoy your holidays, merry Christmas! :-)

Chapter 33: Master of Pawns

Summary:

To hunt a dragon, one must enter his den and perhaps his jaws as well.

Notes:

I confess I am too tired to check for typos tonight. Will check them at leisure tomorrow and this is but half of the chapter I had planned - the court is better handled in portions :-) And Yeon Hwa too!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I watched flames dance merrily

Unaware of its intent to burn

My once allies sat there

And toasted to my demise”

 

Betrayal burns her slow but painfully deep and the words of that old verse sifts through her thoughts. She inhales deeply at war with herself. Fury simmers down to grief by the time she dismounts, a film of tears clinging to her vision and she stumbles into the waiting arms of court lady Han.

“Your grace…!” Eun Mi sounds startled and Jang Mi knows that her distraught is very much visible. But the fear that pales the girl’s face makes her pause. “Shin Young,” she utters worriedly and Jang Mi’s grip falters. “They took her away!”

It has begun. Without giving her a reprieve to breathe - the knife had plunged into her heart.

“Lady Han,” she gasps. “You must run away.” The girl does not understand. The naivety in her wide blinking eyes breaks her heart. She had been her once - a lifetime ago - and she finds herself trembling at the memory. The fear, the blood and the cold weight of the man who collapsed on her. Go away - he had said. She grasps Eun Mi’s hands with the same resolve that she grasps at her failing courage. If it is a purge she would not drag others by association. “Go to lady Noh - you must know where she is, I’m certain she will help you survive. You were never a part of this to begin with… leave now.”

“Your grace - I don’t understand…”

“I didn’t either - when I should have,” she admits rather bitterly. “I should have known. He said it to my face. I should have known - he will never forget what the Kangs did to him.” His purge will begin with us. “Go!”

It hurts in her heart, where Hae Soo laments, denial is deep rooted into her conscious. Her So would not do that - he had promised.

Someday, somewhere - he had promised something like that.

Not to me - no - never to me,” she bites back a sob, clutching at her heart and Eun Mi holds her back when she stumbles.

“Then you must come with me, your grace!”

The dry laugh that is ripped from her throat startles her and she shakes her head at the younger woman, turning away from her expectant eyes.

“I am a Kang, I will not allow myself to be chased and hunted like some vixen. I will not run away.”

“Then you will be the most foolish woman on earth.”

It is Baek Ah, drowning in dark furs that does not belong with his image in her mind and carmine tussles of a tally hanging from his belt. He meets her eyes with an unyielding cold gaze.

“It is you -” she clutches her fist. “You took her. I - ” I thought of you as a friend.

“Even his majesty’s benevolence has its limits. He will not see you tortured lady Kang, you cannot do that to his majesty again.”

He could have pressed salt to her wounds causing lesser agony. Jang Mi inhales a shaking breath. That was all she meant to him? A face that he could not watch in pain?

I will not allow you to hurt my brother,” he tells her and stretches out his hand. “Your command on the shadow forces stand revoked.”

Did he order you to do this?” There is a flimsy thread of hope that she holds on to. “Baek Ah nim - you must stop him - or else he will kill them all -”

“I cannot advise him -” he does not meet her eye. “His majesty’s word is my limitation - the ring, lady Kang if you please.”

She sees it now, the hard edge beneath the soft personality of the artist. The man who couldn’t lift a sword, whose innocence she always believed in, had his own darkness. Baek Ah had always been a part of the shadow forces, a man of sand and dust, perhaps from the times of his father’s reign - perhaps a little later. She thinks of his disguises, his long incognito travels, the stories he brings from different countries - a spy, the prince of spies. Gone is her soft hearted friend and before her stands the grand prince Anjong - something broken inside her, breaks a little more.

Jang Mi had an inkling that he moved the shadows, she had even used his methods and channels during war. But she had never imagined him to be a part of them - bound by same vows.

“Soo - yah,” Baek Ah says, his hand warm against her face. “You leave me with no choice.”

He does it faster than her reflexes, or perhaps it is the last shreds of her trust that he takes advantage of. His fingers press against a pressure point below her ear and darkness embraces her gentle and quiet.

**

It escapes her memory when she was first taught to walk like that, head held high, eyes focused ahead. But she had practiced countless times over the years that Yeon Hwa knows no other way to walk. Her fists bunch into the silk of her skirt and the throne - empty of her husband - looms ahead. The golden dragons with their open mouths - waiting to swallow her whole.

The rustle of clothes bleeds into whispers. She feels the assessing eyes of the ministers on the right, the generals on the left, the eldest up front and the youngest in the back. The politely bowed scholars, proudly rigid guards and even the entourage following her manages to steal a condemning look.

Here she comes… the woman who lost her son. They seem to murmur, inside their heads. Is this how she grieves his death?

Yeon Hwa gulps, nails digging into her palms.

This is the justice for her son. For her son. For Heo.

And she blinks. Heo? Who is Heo? Her baby, her crown prince wasn’t called Heo - it’s Hyohwa.

A step from the steps leading to the throne she pauses. It is a height a woman cannot climb without the hand of a man leading her. She thinks of the unfairness of it all with scorn. She had never wanted a man to take the lead - a man who would ultimately suppress her under his thumb. No - she had no use of such man, or his power - not anymore. The queen sits on the throne once - only as a bride. Or a widow, she adds in her head.

It is time to throw away the last of those teachings. She turns to the throng of courtiers, her face placid. It is her part that she must play and they would play theirs. It is after all one big performance where both parties know the words spoken are far from the truth.

They don’t greet her as is mandatory, worn from the stress of battle and the constant change of monarchs the wary eyes scratch at her countenance. It is her brother that takes the lead, flourishing a bow, thereby gaining attention to his own reappearance at court. In the silence that follows the chants hailing her Yeon Hwa swallows, her throat dry as sand paper.

“The emperor - his imperial majesty -”

She drops her gaze, unwilling to meet the curious gazes as the assembly shifts, the words at the tip of her tongue.

But instead her own words echo in the pause she leaves out - louder and much more strong - an announcement that freezes her blood.

“The emperor, his imperial majesty is entering!”

Wook turns to look at her while the shiver - palpable - rattles across the room. Across the hall stands the man she had been wishing every possible ill for the days that led to this moment - the man who she believed was dying if not already gone. In his eyes she sees her doom.

**

Gwangjong takes his time as he stands at the threshold to his own court, his eyes are dark, void and cold as they sweep across the muted surprise of his courtiers - and the young king - the cruel, cruel man - arches an elegant eyebrow.

It is all that he does - and the entire assembly stumbles to their knees, bowed before him - away from his path to the throne. Leaving Yeon Hwa alone to stand - her jaws locked as she watches a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth - an acute sign of displeasure that would soon be followed by a bloodbath. Still air smells of a storm and she tries to hold her own. This game is no longer his - the rules are now hers. She reminds herself. It might be his arena yet he will have to play by her set of rules. She would no longer bow to him - no -  

And she smiles, sweetly - leaving her cold eyes untouched.

Welcome Gwangjong - this is the beginning of your end.

He takes his time to remove the furs - still dusted with snow - and leaves them with one of the eunuchs. He hadn’t wasted a moment since dismounting even to do that. Yeon Hwa knows the man enjoys the subtle show of authority and torment of keeping them on their knees as long as he pleases. His gaze does not shift from hers as he approaches her and she manages to remain steady on her feet as the hatred boils inside her. The emperor extends a cold hand towards her.

“Such painstaking efforts - Wanghu,” he speaks slow, clear words. “One has burdened your tender conscience with too many worries.”

“Pyeha,” she bows graceful to the last bone of her trembling body. “It eases my heart to see you hale and healthy -”

“Unlike you’ve been reported by worthless spies.” He spits the word worthless with a cruel twist to his mouth.

“I -”

“Not only the queen, we’ve all been entrapped in several deceptions since the battle Pyeha,” Wook speaks on her behalf. “Some of which has become quite clear by now -”

He breaks off abruptly as the emperor turns his eyes on him, his head tilted a fraction.

“Indeed,” says the emperor and he brushes past the Hwangbo siblings towards the throne. “I remember distinctly of promising you a trial - not an unconditional restoration. Things have been twisted a several times in my absence - that it is no wonder we all find ourselves - entrapped.

“Pyeha, the overwhelming evidence against the Kangs cannot be disregarded…” This time it is not Wook but one of the scholars who speaks, a certain man with a pointed beard that So remembers used to tail Wook during his years of glory at court. So it is such, that with the return of the man himself, his allies also have flocked around him.

“The crown prince is dead,” he interjects tastelessly, his voice drowning that of the scholar’s. “The defeated rebels choose to attack upon my sacred person - and what do I found upon my return - a woman insecure of her position in the inner palace has summoned the imperial court to discuss a consort?” He looks down at Yeon Hwa and the people around her shifts uncomfortably. “Jealousy is quite unbecoming of a queen.”

He does it quite smartly, enraging her into speaking.

“The court,” she says. “Was not summoned to discuss lady Kang, your majesty. But the crown prince and the conspiracies that seek to harm the nation.”

“Conspiracies that has been whispered into your ears?”

“Pyeha!” She exclaims her voice rising with righteous indignity. “There is enough proof to each of my claims and each witness has once been held in high regard by your majesty - at least before the whims of a willy woman managed to obscure your judgement!”

“Wanghu -” there is a warningly sharp note to his voice, and the assembly rattles again. Yeon Hwa kneels herself, looking the prime and proper image of the wronged and continues.

“It is quite unbecoming of the son of heavens to be so enthralled with an impostor.”

“Enough -”

She expects him to stand up and tilts her chin to look at him square in the eye. There is no way left to take other than the one she had purposely kept open for his retreat. Yeon Hwa waits watching the fury burn behind those cold eyes.

“Who was it that proposed the idea of bringing lady Kang into the inner palace in the first place?”

“The court has erred on the matter - Pyeha,” Minister Jeo speaks out. “The court has been misled.”

“Must be quite strong an enchantment then, to enthrall well over hundred of men at once?” There is a wicked humour to his voice and his mouth curls with displeasure.

“Forgive us - your majesty!” The ministers chant on their knees.

“But a woman who so brazenly and in open employs witchcraft cannot be allowed an imperial title - no must she go unpunished.” Minister Jeo continues, after exchanging a brief glance with Wook now standing in the shadow. “An attainder must be passed on her - her actions must be outlawed!”

“A woman who brazenly and in open employs witchcraft…” the emperor repeats softly. “Minister Jeo, are you proposing this law?”

Flustered by being directly addressed by the monarch the man fumbles a bit before bowing low.

“May it please you Pyeha! The loss of the crown prince is a gaping wound on the nation - it must be tended to.”

“And witchcraft punished with death?”

“Banishment -” alters one of the scholars, “and revocation of all titles.”

“If proved to be - regicide?” interjects the emperor.

“It is consort Kang who must answer her charges,” Wook finds his voice again. “She must be brought to the bureau of justice.”

“It has happened already,” says the emperor.

“But -”

“The shadow forces holds consort Kang captive - she will be questioned according to their methods.” A collective murmur swirls at the words and Yeon Hwa opens her mouth. “Does anybody has any concern regarding their techniques or efficiency?”

“The shadow forces Pyeha - such an elite force will be wasted on a mundane matter quite capably handled by the bureau of justice…”

“And yet - here we stand assembled to the last of every noble representative discussing this mundane matter quite capably handled by the bureau of justice.” The minister who had spoken, a young and ambitious Kim, goes crimson instantly. “I am well versed with means of justice bureau - minister Kim, it is an institution that thrives on confessions - regardless of their authenticity. They are grossly incapable of granting the trial I have promised my estranged brother - unlike shadow force untouchable, unapproachable, unreachable for any form of corruption or pressure.”

Involuntarily Wook takes a step backwards.

“Shadows -?” he mutters unconsciously.

“Each witness will be investigated - according to the personal guidelines that I set out myself - it will begin with lady Kang.” The emperor continues as if he had not spoken.

“Your majesty, the findings of an organization which in itself is ambiguous - an investigation no one will perceive - how are we to ascertain it is indeed fair an impartial?” Minister Jeo speaks slowly, choosing his words with care. “The shadows are almost mythical -”

“Oh?” The emperor arches an eyebrow. “Are you demanding secrets of throne to be laid bare in open court?”

“Appease your anger, Pyeha, what this humble servant meant was - the court requires something more than a myth to rely on - a person - an authority, a figure…” Minister Jeo continues with a sideways glance at Wook. “Someone well versed in matters of court and administration of justice -”

“Pyeha!” choruses the ministers. “Please consider!”

The emperor presses his lips and Yeon Hwa rejoices inwardly. It is put in such reasonable terms that he cannot possibly scheme a facade of an investigation to gloss over the crimes of his beloved.

“Will it satisfy the court if the general of shadows is summoned and handed over the investigation in this court?” The emperor proposes quite unexpectedly. Before Minister Jeo had found a suitable answer - another of the ministers - one of the king’s own faction rises in favor.

“If it is possible your majesty.”
”It can be arranged,” the emperor turns to lord Park. “Summon grand prince Anjong - this matter is removed to his authority with immediate effect!”

Notes:

Belated wishes on new year! I'm quite behind my schedule, but fear not I will catch up as soon as possible. A hearty thank you for not abandoning this work, or me - I'm quite grateful to return to such a delicious number of increase in views!
We have but a little further to go, to reach the final destination. As always open to your thoughts, do comment and let me know if the chapter is tasteful or not.
Thanks again!

Chapter 34: Choices

Summary:

Each choice is dropping a stone in the pond.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The doors open soundlessly to admit her inside. She has been here before, but still her breath catch at the grandeur of it all. The throne room, with its half burnt candles bleeding into gold washed darkness and the dragon throne up ahead, looming over her - with open mouthed golden dragons waiting to devour her whole.

He is sitting up there. It is his dark robes that she sees first. Their tone seamless with the darkness that surrounds him. The gold embroidery glittering in a ghostly manner.

“Pyeha,” her own voice takes her by surprise as well as him, and he looks up.

It is not the king that she expects, but a child - barely around ten years of age, drowning in the heavy attire of the dragon. He looks at her with eyes of her own and  a crooked tilt to his mouth that resembles so much of -

“So!” His name spills from her cracked lips and her eyes snap open. The clutches of that dream slowly retreating themselves into her subconscious. Jang Mi presses a hand to her eyes, rubbing them, trying to recall the last image that had shocked her into wakefulness.

That boy, wearing robes of his father - with her sigil embroidered into his sleeves - her son. She stumbles out of the bedroll and pours herself a cup of water. Her breath still burning in her lungs, she tries to wash off the fear that rises in her throat. Her son, a boy - king. Does that mean - the thought chokes her and she rubs her throat - that he will die? Her eyes water with frustration at herself.

Why would it matter to her?

Why would he die?

 Why should she fear for a man who feels nothing for her?

Who would kill him? Does that mean - her son would never know his father?

Would he want to know him, if she ever has a son? Would he not see the child as a sign of all her betrayals?

 But for him to ascend - he must have abdicated…Abdicated to her son? After everything?

She thinks of her own future, for a moment she visualizes ruling in stead of a minor. It last only for a fraction of a moment.

He would be gone. She would never see him again - just like she had wished for before sleeping. She chokes back a sob and bites on her trembling lip.

No! She will not cry for that - that man! Let him do what he wishes!

She leans against the wall, unconsciously heaving - silent, cold tears draining down her face.

“No!” She cries out loud. “I forbid you to cry! No! No! No!” The tears fail her and fall as she struggles to breathe - sliding down into the cold floor, she gathers up her knees and wraps her arms around them. “You can’t have my heart,” she mutters, her voice broken. “You don’t deserve my heart!”

**

Seo Nui is a princess and princesses are not easily manipulated. Not when she knows that she is nothing but a pawn in the hands of her enemies and the man standing beside her is the biggest of her foes. Her half brother from Gyeongju Kims has not given her any reason to trust him - or his mother the once glorious consort Shinseong from the fallen royal house of silla, who now holds her captive under imperial orders.

She makes an impatient move to walk away from the alcove where they stand, watching the progress of the court below. Since they stand in the shadows, and the grand prince has his eyes on her, she dares not make a move to make her presence known. It hurts, simply to watch like a fool as her husband is being continuously suppressed by his more illustrious imperial brother.

“Stay - gongjunim,” Anjong doesn’t even spare her a glance, but his slender fingers clasp around her wrist. “You haven’t been dismissed - yet.” And he calls her a princess - not princess consort, as is her title, or simply sister - as is their relationship. Seo Nui huffs in indignation. The perfect polite term sounds like a calculated insult when uttered from the lips of a liar.

“I do not wish to witness my husband being humiliated anymore - grand prince Anjong. Leave my hand at once!”

He sighs, but lets go of her hand anyway. It takes her a moment to realize that it is not because of her words but because he has been summoned to the court, by imperial command.

Leisurely, he turns to regard her with a look.

“Do not leave.”

“You will not persuade me to betray him,” she tells him with conviction. “No amount of court sessions will convince me of anything but the cruelty of your imperial brother!”

He closes his eyes for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line.

“The fact that you stand here - speaking in these terms of your monarch is in itself a proof of his benevolence. Do not push your luck - gongjunim, it takes only a second to go from princess to traitor and you know very well that you are walking on that sword edge.” She sucks in a breath, frowning, picking up the perfect words to put him in his place.

But Anjong is done with her and has already turned away. “She stays here.” He says to no one in particular with a wave of his hand as he leaves and Seo Nui knows better than to move for she has no idea from where the shadow he had just commanded watch her movements - or whether or not he carries a weapon to make good on his command.

**

The court rises up in murmurs as grand prince Anjong takes his place beside his brother.

“How - when -” Minister Jeo stammers, before bowing to the prince. “Forgive me Pyeha, but it astonishes me greatly how the thirteenth prince who had always preferred not to engage in swordplay ended up the commander of the most elite forces of the nation.” He chooses the words carefully and allows the doubt to seep in slowly, calculative eyes travelling around the court to make sure everyone picked up on his intentions.

The emperor however smiles rather lazily.

“Do I have a court or a bunch of gossiping grandmothers!” He slams down a fist. “Raise one more baseless question and I shall see to it that your curiosity is quenched forever.”
”Pyeha!” The ministers cry, like a bunch of wolves howling at the moon.

“Pyeha,” grand prince Anjong appeals to his brother in his slow, indifferent tone. “Perhaps minister Jeo wants a demonstration of my abilities before his fears are put to rest.” He turns to the minister. “Is that right, Minister Jeo?”

“Of cause not, your royal highness. I have utmost faith in your great abilities.”

“The forces who fought at Shinju would settle your doubts, if you care take a stroll through the barracks Minister Jeo,” the emperor is not amused. “We will have no further discussion on the matter.”

“It is true,” the eighth prince speaks up. “Thirteenth brother is indeed very capable. I’ve seen him deal with the forces at Shinju myself.” He says looking at Minister Jeo with an unwavering glaze. “He in turn can vouch for my true loyalties towards my imperial brother and how I turned up as soon as I could to -”

“There is another person who could vouch for your loyalties - or lack thereof,” the emperor exchanges a look with prince Anjong. “Seo Nui, the princess of Ryus.”

Wook says nothing for a moment and the emperor continues.

“Would you stay silent on the matter and push Ryus to the fire of treason - brother? Would you still claim it is not you but an impostor who married our sister from Ryu?”

“It saddens me,” says Wook. “But it is true.”

“Dowager queen Jeon Deok seems to expect no less from you,” nods the emperor. “It saddens me as well for I know how blind love can be. And the dowager queen had been earnest in her appeal, I will not hold her youthful mistakes against my widowed sister.”

“Does that mean you believe me Pyeha?” Wook sounds hopeful, but he does not raise his eyes. Gwangjong chuckles.

“It is either this or that - huh? Either she married an impostor who died, or a traitor who will die. We will eventually reach the same conclusion.” He says the words with a cruelty that makes the court collectively shudder. Speaking to Wook’s face about the possibility of executing him with cold blooded indifference. “They are not my words, they are words of dowager queen JeonDeok. In recognition of her service of saving my life, she wishes her daughter to be pardoned and granted marriage - ” He pauses rather dramatically and meets Wook’s gaze. “To grand prince Anjong.”
”But Pyeha -” A scholar objects mildly. “Due to previous attainder, grand prince Anjong now stands next in line - it is not a suitable match -”

“Does this court truly believe of the eighth prince’s claims of innocence or does it not?” The emperor interjects. “For if it does - I see no reason why they don’t believe in the possibility of him being restored to his titles. Or does this court know something that I don’t?”

The scholar visibly bites his tongue and the emperor arches an eyebrow.

“Are you all traitors joining hands behind my back to eliminate me with no heirs - that you worry so much about prince Anjong’s household?” He thunders then. “Or is there already some lady aspiring to be the next queen by marrying into the grand prince’s residence? Is there a courtier here who dares to dream of such heights?”

“Pyeha!”

“I see no reason why dowager Queen JeonDeok’s wish cannot be granted.”

“Pyeha, the Ryus have committed treason by rising up forces against the emperor - are you willing to pardon them?” Another minister takes the initiative to speak and So regards him with a look. The man, Minister Park, is a representative of the Baekjae people and known to carry grievances against the Ryus for the salve trade that ruined his natives.

Baek Ah speaks up instead of him, his eyes cold as they rest upon the man.

“The eighth prince has breached the imperial decree by denouncing his house arrest - whether or not he has been taken captive. If he is to be forgiven for his act of saving the emperor - the Ryus stand on the same ground.”

“There was no need of taking his majesty to the Jeongju - the queen was waiting at Hwangju, the Hwangbos could have served in a similar manner. Only consort Kang wanted to give her maternal aunt the opportunity to repent for her sins…” Minister Park points out bitterly. “Their service to the throne is all but staged.”

“Staged,” says the emperor. “Unnecessary. The eighth prince’s arrow was also unnecessary in a battle where I had the upper hand over my opponent. Would that also be staged then - minister Park?”

“It is the prince’s good intentions -”

“Who can vouch for them but he himself,” the emperor objects and turns to his brother in question. “You have not earned my trust yet - Wook. However my opinion of you will not interfere in your investigation. I will ask you one last time - for the sake of the dignity of my sister in question. Did you marry princess Seo Nui?”

There is a pause and the courtiers around Wook shifts uncomfortably under the heated gaze of their monarch. Wook does not move, his gaze remaining steady fast.

“I did not, Pyeha.”

“Very well. Grand prince Anjong of Gyeongju Kim, you are granted marriage to princess Seo Nui of Jeongju Ryu. May the heavens bless you with hundred years of marital bliss.”

**

“He’s going to marry her!” Yeon Hwa screeches, sending her tea set flying across the chamber. In front of her Wook only tightens his fist and their mother do not move at all. “There is no need to redeem the Ryus so thoroughly. He is going to marry into that clan himself.”

“His majesty will not do that,” dowager queen Hwangbo says thoughtfully. “Man Hee is even younger than Jung - still practically a child. Gwangjong is not his father.”

“Don’t you see it mother, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. All he sees is power. All he seeks is retribution. And that old bitch Jeong Deok wants to give my throne to one of her daughters!”

“We’ve always known it is what the dowager Ryu wants,” Wook says slowly. “Whether his majesty marries Mun Hee or not - Kims are practically family through his majesty’s sister and now Baek Ah will control the clan - whether Jeong Deok likes it or not.”

“Baek Ah,” chuckles the dowager Hwangbo. “How did it ever come to this? Suddenly one day he has an army - a royal mother and now the wealthiest princess as a consort?”

“His majesty is grooming him to the mantle of the crown prince,” Wook nods.
Yeon Hwa’s fist rattles the table.

“We can’t lose the Ryus! We can’t. We can’t!”

“Daemok…”

“She is right - lady mother,” Wook says slowly. “Ryus are keepers of our secrets. With or without proof, we cannot hand over the ends to all our knots to his majesty’s guard dog.”

“Neither must this investigation go to the shadows,” their mother adds sharply. “How did everything go wrong so fast?”

“There is still a way,” Wook speaks out, a moment later - his voice low enough that the two women has to bent towards him. He looks at neither of them, but his own fingers clenching and unclenching as he speaks. “The commander of shadows must be proven incompetent to handle the investigation.”

“A mistake - a damage -” speculates the dowager queen.

“That cannot be forgiven or rectified. His majesty will have no choice. But to retrieve the command.”

“If you play it right,” Wook’s voice grow deeper as he dives into his thoughts. “His majesty will have to execute another of his brothers and perhaps Dowager Ryu will also change her side. If Baek Ah dies - like - like the commander of shadows before him - his majesty will not recover from the blow and everything will flow as we desire it.”

Finally he looks up directly at his sister.

“Call your assassins, my queen, we have a person to bid good bye.”

“Do not touch Baek Ah,” the dowager’s tone is threatening. “We cannot afford such a risk.”

“Of cause Lady mother. Not the grand prince. He is at the other end of the lake. The wave we create will wash him off in time. We just need to drop a stone to the still water.”

Notes:

This chapter has yet another part, some last bit of tying the lose ends to it. Will post that soon!
Meanwhile ... Whoa, WHOA! We crossed 4K views! I'm going crazy, it's unbelievable! Thank you so much! You guys are amazing!
See you again soon, enjoy the chapter and don't forget to tell me how you feel! Your comments keep me going!
Thanks again! :-D

Chapter 35: Quicksand

Summary:

To live is a battle of its own.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Baek Ah waits until resonance of last footfall dies away and kneels before his brother.

“Please retrieve your words, imperial brother,” his voice trembles.

“Get up, Baek Ah - ya.”

“I do not wish to get married. Not to Seo Nui - not to anyone. Your majesty cannot do this to me.” He refuses to obey the direct command and dares to say the words that boils inside him. You of all people cannot do this to me. He wants to say, but restrains himself as he looks up at his brother, troubled by his silence. From the shadows Chun steps forward.

“Get up!” The emperor - not his brother - says briskly, standing up himself. “I will look the other way once. We shall not have this conversation again.”

“Please - I -” Baek Ah swallows. “My life is yours. Your majesty can command me as you wish, but not this. Don’t ask this from me. I cannot forget her. I cannot watch some other woman taking her place - I cannot bear it.”

The emperor descends slowly, but then, misses a step. Had it not been for Baek Ah’s quick reflex, he would have fallen.

“Hyungnim!” He gasps, grasping into his brother’s elbow. Up close he looks weary, pale and old. For a moment Beak Ah feels his heart break. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m alive,” So says simply, patting his hand and straightening himself. “That’s all that matters.”

“But -” There is perspire gathering at his brow, bags under his eyes that his makeup cannot hide. He looks ill, wasting away. “You need -”

“Sleep,” So cuts him off. “I need to fall asleep before I fall apart.”

Is it injuries? Beak Ah thinks to himself. Or is it poison? Or is it something new, that his brother will not share with him? He looks at Chun, who looks as deeply troubled as he is, then moves his gaze back to his brother.

“She is safe,” he says quietly.

“I know -” So sighs. “I know.”

“Hyungnim,” he swallows. “Must you do this? Neither of you are happy, both of you are suffering - if this is about the court we can always -”

“We can’t have everything we crave for - Baek Ah - ya. Seo Kyung died before I learned that.”

“Dowager queen Jeong Deok is moving in the dark,” Chun says softly. “For the time being her daughters are the only way of keeping her at bay.”

“Let the dowager think she is winning,” So tells him. “It works with most of players. She will make the sacrifices willingly.”

“She is a dangerous woman,” Baek Ah mutters, slowly.

“Which is why I need her lifeline in your grasp. She will always play to keep you alive.”

“Hyungnim -”

“Forgive me,” says So, his hand resting on Baek Ah’s shoulder. “I will keep committing this felony. If breaking your heart is what keeps you alive - there is no other choice to make.”

**

The former general Park Soo Kyung puffs out a thick ring of smoke, eyes closed and deep in thought. The night is falling and he could hear the miniature sounds of his household, bustling as they settle for the night. Dust of the chaos they were thrown into to suit the whims of their emperor is finally settling - the man thinks wearily, inhaling another deep bout of smoke.

“Have you completely replaced the sword with a pipe - grand general Park?” A voice disturbs him and upon the threshold stands consort Kang. She wears her hair down like an unmarried woman, in a brazenly rebellious manner, with pleats that suits a warrior better than a consort pulling strands away from her face. Soo Kyung blinks slowly - watching her with interest.

This young woman was supposed to be his prisoner, kept in the custody of the shadow forces until the charges upon her are investigated. But there is that haughty tilt to her chin, that mockingly fierce intensity of her gaze that reminds him of the daughter he lost to the palace schemes instead.

Oh the emperor knows very well what he is doing, playing with Soo Kyung’s mind like this. Subtly tempting him to re - enter the game that he detested, if only for the sake of keeping her safe. Oh that clever bastard he had raised himself!

He turns to look at her as she enters and recalls how she had told him that first day - looking straight in his eye - to prove one claim of the many accusations against her, or -

“Don’t do anything that you couldn’t bear being done to your daughter - grand general, justice is a two way road. ”

As if, he thinks skeptically, the emperor would have tolerated a scratch on her. But then, he had never seen another woman who needed no man’s sword protecting her - apart from his Soon Deok and from those very first words - consort Kang had made her place in his heart.

“You are not supposed to leave your room,” he tells her gruffly.

Jang Mi enters uninvited and sits across from him. There is a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“I thought we agreed differently.”

“Not the first time I’ve been a fool with no care of saving my own neck,” he grumbles not looking at her.

“So - has your comrades found what they were looking for?”

Soo Kyung clicks his tongue.

“Prying doesn’t suit you girl,” he says.

Jang Mi leans closer.

“Its your ladyship, grand general. Your emperor hasn’t revoked my title has he?”

“I thought you have forsaken him,” Soo Kyung comments, eyeing her hair. “His majesty.” He corrects himself hesitantly.

“Do you remember he tossed me into a stream once?”

“For stalking our training sessions - yes,” he chuckles. “He was quite pleased with himself afterwords.”

“The water was freezing and the weight of my own skirts could have drowned me,” she says slowly.

“It occurred to him a moment later and he came after you.” For a moment Jang Mi says nothing and the old man sighs, watching her eyes glitter in the light of dying embers of the fire place. “Don’t wait for him.” He says then. “He will not come back to pull you out this time.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admits in a shaking voice, hanging her head. “I don’t know what’s more tragic - me waiting for him, or he who never comes. He could have ripped me apart and it would hurt less - it would -”

“You love him - so it hurts, if it doesn’t, it wasn’t love to begin with,” the old man says bitterly, dragging another mouthful of smoke.

“I - don’t - love - him!”

“You wish not to,” he nods. “It hurts because you are trying too hard. When feelings run deep you should feel them lightly - like walking on quicksand. Lightly - lightly,” he puffs a ring of smoke and chuckles at her look. “I’ve had my fair share of school rooms - girl, you cannot truly expect me to only know the language of blades and arrows?”

“He doesn’t deserve my heart.”

“I don’t think he believes he does. No. He probably doesn’t.”

“He is a cruel man.”

“A survivor always is.”

Jang Mi sighs.

“And you advise me to feel lightly. He is a man that demands to be felt deeply or not at all. I feel - I do! What hurts is he will never know how much - he will never feel the same way. He will never be mine.”

In the ancient eyes that regard her, there is a note of sympathy.

“Not all who leaves wants to leave,” he tells her. “Come - let us take a stroll outside.”

 

The stars glitter overhead and the winter night is silent. A servant comes after them with a heater and two reluctant guards follow. There is no snow in these parts - only frozen earth and dull colors of winter.

“Friendship with an emperor is always one sided,” the old man says after a long while. “You can never expect him to return in the same coin. There are too many considerations, risks, demands - call what you will. It is fear that drives the men with power - fear of losing it. A crown is no different. Men often run away from what they fear.”

“Does he fear me? Huh!” Snorts, Jang Mi, “as if I would steal his crown.”

“Perhaps he fears losing you,” Soo Kyung says quietly. “It is a taste he knows, a wound he has suffered. His majesty has often failed to protect people that mattered to him.”

Silently, secretly, Jang Mi rubs at her eyes - annoyed with the moisture that blurs her vision.

“To have the heart of the dragon is to paint a target on your back.”

They walk steadily uphill as they talk and suddenly the valley opens up into miles and miles of stars.

“Your brother was buried here,” General Park tells her.

“What?”

“He died a traitor’s death and wasn’t allowed a funeral yes. The grand prince brought his corpse himself and buried him here.”

“Why did he do that?”

General Park watches her for a moment.

“His majesty told him to.”

“Why? He killed him - did he not?” Her voice shudders as she is reminded of Ah Ri’s scathing remark. You slept with your brother’s murderer!

“The grand prince regards your brother very highly. The young general Kang saved his life once. Taught him martial arts - brought him into the inner tier of the shadow forces.”

“Brother Seo Kyung was involved with shadow forces?”

General Park nods, hands clasped behind his back.

“He was their commander at that time. Used to shadow Jeongjong.”

“Master Park!” There is a guard shouting at the foot of the hill, they could see the torch that the man waves in the air urgently. “A signal - a signal from the woods!”

Instantly Jang Mi looks up and catches the spark of a burning arrow against the stars.

**

The carriage rattles and Seo Nui holds her breath, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. She would not make the mistake of thinking her detour at the palace is unknown to the person shadowing her. More like - she was led to that place so she could overhear the conversation between the Hwangbos. Another scheme to break her resolve.

She had unwittingly ran away the moment the emperor announced her marriage to Anjong. Uncaring if her shadow was ordered to shoot if she tries to escape. It was more than she could take, much, much more than she could bear. She will not marry another - certainly not that grand prince!

She had no idea what her mother was planning. It could be as the queen said - she might just plan something twisted like getting her baby sister married to the emperor. But Seo Nui was past allowing herself to be used in the schemes of her mother.

She had walked around aimlessly at first, too distraught to think straight. But then, her feet led her to him - her prince.

Call the assassins he had said. They would be coming anytime now. And they would kill him. They would kill Anjong. Of cause her prince would not watch while she married his step - brother. Whatever his grand plans were. Of cause he would do something so dangerously reckless to get her back. Tonight Anjong will die.

And her hands were cold. Her ears straining to listen, pick up any sounds of the queen’s men creeping up on their travel party. So far all she could hear was hooves on snow, the crunching of the cartwheels and neighs of the horses.

But they will come and he will die.

She knows the way Wook moved, although she had listened only up to the point where he asked the assassins to be summoned, she knows it has to be tonight. They will not get such an opportunity again. Even if the shadow forces might already know…she thinks with a sinking heart … it is too hard to guard from all sides - when crossing woods such as these.

The snow is not very thick anymore - which meant that they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the palace. A distance that would make it impossible for reinforcements to come in the nick of time. These were lands of Parks, that old general Park living in his estate was somewhere around here. But the old man would not be patrolling the edges of his lands now would he? He would be snuggled next to his fireplace - nursing a drink - retelling some old battle story. He would know only in the morning.

Now is perfect time.

Then she hears it.

A mere rustle of wind - a man landing on the snow. Then another - then another and one more.

“Don’t stop!” Anjong’s voice comes from somewhere close - by. As if he is riding next to her carriage - she could hear the heavy hooves of his horse, the sharp cry of his sword being pulled out. “Guard the princess!”

The foolish man! He does not understand that she is in no danger - instead the death is waiting for him. Seo Nui bites her lip, blaming her own conscience. It is of no matter to her. No - it is not.

The ‘swish’ of the first arrow - she hears it quite clearly. But what makes her jump is that its tip protrudes from the closed carriage window and the carriage rattles to a halt.

It was meant for him - she tells herself - he was riding by the carriage. No archer can shoot precisely in the dark, unless they are exceptionally trained in the moonlight. The horses are agitated and the men are shouting. She could hear the clanks and clicks of blades - the cries of injured men.

A man tears open the carriage door and collapses at her feet when he is shot an arrow from the behind. Seo Nui screams - feeling dizzy at the sight of blood splattered on her feet. Another man reaches into the carriage and pulls her out - a man dressed like a peasant but with hands of a warrior - an assassin!

The scream is frozen somewhere in her throat as a cold blade is pressed to her neck. The man pulls her away and the scene flies past her eyes. Assassins and guards fighting each other - blood - fire and the general chaos they create.

“Let me GO!” She struggles after a moment and the blade draws blood.

However Seo Nui is not without means - instinctively she reaches out for her concealed dagger - but is thwarted again by the man who seems to know the exact location of her secret weapon.

No - it couldn’t possibly be!

“It will be quicker if you stop struggling - your highness,” the man informs her coldly. “Just a cut - you’d barely feel it.”

“N - no.”

Her voice comes out broken, the ice in her veins only making it harder to breathe. Across the chaos another man collapses and her eyes meet Anjong’s. He is drenched in blood - and shouts something incoherent to his men. There is a shadow in his eyes - a look of thoughtful cruelty that makes her shudder at the sudden thought it inspires. He knows - knows that she had since long waited for them to be attacked, waited for him to die. He might have also known what she had not - that the attack is not meant for him - it was meant for her.

She would have watched him die and now that the tables have turned she cannot possibly fault him for doing the same. Tears blur her vision and betrayal is bitter in her mouth. The corner of his mouth twists in disgust and his wrist twists spinning the dagger in his hand. It finds her attacker on the dead centre of his forehead and the man doesn’t even utter a sound as he falls - dragging her down with his weight.

Overhead the dark sky is dotted with several burning arrows - successively shot towards the pale winter stars. It is the last thing Seo Nui sees before the night closes on her.

Then she sees no more.

Notes:

Finally, we've tapped into that particular mystery - oh you know which one ;-) and the knots are beginning to loosen up.
Do share your thoughts, and thank you for reading!

Chapter 36: Battling the shadow

Summary:

The shadow of a darker future looms closer still.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Jang Mi doesn’t ask Grand General Park for permission - even as a formality. Neither does he stop her verbally. All they exchange is a look, both pairs of eyes still lit in the dying sparks of the arrows and alarm - fear - exhilaration. There is nothing that makes a warrior more alive than the scent of war in the air, a threat in the horizon. Even if he had asked her, ordered her even, she would not be held - not this night.

The familiar weight of her bow and arrows, the reins of her mount in hand - Jang Mi inhales the night air deeply. There are bitter notes of smoke - a bite of frost, but still her lungs stretch gratefully with freedom. The Park army surrounds her, spreading into the woods, taking various routes towards the disputed area. The burning stench grows as the distance is eaten away by speed and the shouts and noises of the struggle take over the flimsy silence.

The Kim coat of arms is the first thing she notices - and her heart skips a beat - Baek Ah, and his entourage possibly consisting Seo Nui the princess of Ryu. And the assailants that seemed to suppress them in numbers - too proficient in weaponry to be bandits of peasant origin - too organized, too graceful and efficient in their movements.

Fools - she thinks with disdain. To think patched clothes could veil their true motive. There is only one person who could plan this and it is utterly foolish of him to do so. But she doesn’t wait to analyze the outcome, her hand instinctively stretching behind to pick out an arrow, her eyes effortlessly choosing a target.

The same moment Baek Ah’s dagger finds the forehead of the man who holds Seo Nui captive, Jang Mi’s arrow buries itself at the nape of his neck, drawing out a tiny spur of blood as he collapses. She hardly wastes a moment on him, already shooting down three more men in quick succession.

The rest of the Park men had joined the battle by then, taking down several of the disguised assassins - as quite a number more, helps the injured to safety. Jang Mi finds herself occupied as the men realize what a threat she poses to their lives - in that possessed nature of her offense and she finds it eases her mind in a way nor conversation - self reflection or wine could achieve. The weariness and occasional pain merging with the rising heat and heartbeat, makes it easier to forget those unsettling dreams - or the charges that hung over her head. For a moment - with her hands tainted in blood of the enemy - she feels free.

They had quickly retrieved Seo Nui from the heat of the centre of battle and the men, momentarily confused like a swarm of flies who had just lost their meal - turn to her instead. It doesn’t look like they were ordered after her but more like they were ordered away from Anjong - expressly. And the men - having no other target to peruse instead focus on her.

Sooner than she would have liked - it was no longer a battle for bow and arrows.

“Baek Ah!” Over the clutter of several weapons, he almost did not hear her and when he did - he stopped cold for a moment, heart racing - half wishing it is a projection of his cynical thinking. Jang Mi plunged an arrow into the throat of a man who tried to topple her to the ground - still unrelentingly, they both went tumbling into the frozen earth. “I need a sword!”

But then, the dead man already had one - which she thrust into the next assailant without pausing. Still, Baek Ah throws a dagger at her, a comfortably weighted short blade that she spins brutally in her left hand. It reminds her of the dagger she had pulled out from So’s belt once - and saved his life by taking another’s.

The first man who manages to cut her across the upper arm - a sting that she barely notices - is cut down by the older general. She turns just in time to see the murderous rage in the his ancient eyes and glimpses the warrior beneath the weary face and myriad of scars.

“A cowardly attack deserves a cowardly death,” he growls, his hands never pausing - his blades dancing across the field.

“Thank you -!” She tells him and means it - knowing full well the cost of momentary distraction. The older man grants, however his eyes gleams in affection - filling her heart with a warmth that it always craved for but never got its fill from her own father.

Over them drift’s Baek Ah’s voice -

“I need one alive!”

The general’s hand pauses for a moment, in mid motion of slitting the throat of his opponent and the enemy makes full use of that spare second - brandishing his own short sword.

She does it in a moment of unwitting panic, in fear for the life of the dear old man, but a foolishly brave move nevertheless that thrusts herself between the two men, swiftly kicking away the short sword but instead injuring herself on hilt of the general’s blade coming down hard on her head.

The world spins for a moment, shadows gathering at the corners of her vision. Still, the ground solid beneath her feet, she manages to spin around and plunge her own dagger into the enemy’s thigh, leaving him in enough misery not to try an escape - but leaving him alive for whatever Anjong had in store for him. But then - the ground is giving away and dark spots dance across her vision.

As she falls she doesn’t hear the old general’s cry - or feel that it is into his arms she falls. But she remembers the agony etched across the old man’s face and berates herself for forcing the man to relive the moment of his precious daughter’s death. Then the shadows take her down.

The Park soldiers take control of the situation faster than they had imagined and now they stand awaiting command from the grand prince. Baek Ah inhales sharply, trying to suppress the nauseating feeling the sight of gore that lay before him brought. Blood - still unsettled him. Gulping quickly, he turns to look at the men.

“Clean it all,” he says briskly. “There should be no sign of a struggle here. Tonight - did not happen.”

The men do not question more and only a handful - dressed in sigil - less, dark outfits remain motionless as the Park soldiers set out to work. Their heads bowed and posture rigid they wait for him to speak further.

“Take the captives. Make them talk.”

**

She is back in the palace. The ominous suffocation returns with each echoing step. There are dark gauzy curtains that she knows from somewhere - the memory - barely out of reach settles into her heart rather heavily. A softer hand clutches at her trembling one.

“Lady mother?” She looks down into her own expectant eyes set in a small round face of a child. Her boy!

There are shadows up ahead, people. Their murmurs are thick in the air and she gathers her boy up and holds him close. He is soft, warm and tiny - so young - so dear that her throat tightens. It is part fear and part longing - her hands clutch at his robes. It is a feeling that befits a thief who coverts a treasure not his own - hides it somewhere close to his heart.

She will not let them take him away. No. Not her boy!

The shadows grow thicker as they draw closer, the murmurs dying. One last flimsy curtain apart - she finally realizes where she is. Her heart tightens, painfully. Anjong stands before her. His face is battle hardened and the corner of his mouth twitches. He looks at her for a long moment and her only reaction is to hold her child even closer - when he reaches out to touch him.

He clenches his jaw at that, a gleam of accusation in his eyes.

“You are late,” he tells her flatly his tone hallow. “Imperial dowager Kang.”

The title pierces her like a lance through heart and she gasps audibly. He cares a little for that - as the others - mostly the imperial entourage - start to turn towards her - Baek Ah sinks to his knees. The others follow him and her hands shake as she puts the child down.

“No! No!”

All this while - her mind reels - nobody had told her. All this while -

“NO!”

She tears through them and that flimsy excuse of a curtain, stumbling into the imperial bedchamber.

It is Seol that she sees first. Eyes so like his reddened and her face tear stained. Court lady Noh stands by her side as the girl sits on the emperor’s bedside - a small hand still clutching his. It is where her knees fail her and she collapses, staring at the blurred sight before her.

“Where’s Ju?” Seol asks in a small voice. “He was waiting for him.”

“The son should place the ceremonial robe over the body,” someone was saying.

“Where is the crown prince?”

She sees nothing but him and those voices hardly matter. Years they’ve been at war with each other, holding grudges that meant nothing at the end of the day. It was nothing but her pride that kept her away from him for so long, her pride and mistrust and guilt -

“So…”

“No - no - no - please no!” His face is still warm under her palms, serene and silent that it breaks her heart, to think it is the last time she would see him.

 “So…please!”

Her ear is pressed against the silence of his heart, her own hear drowning in an agony of its own making.

“He said he is going to dream,” Seol says slowly, her small hand reaching out to pat her head. “And in his dreams he always finds his way back to you.”

**

She wakes up into darkness, her lashes drenched with unshed tears. Her heart hollow and wrenching in agony. When she blinks - candle light floods in, and a weary old man is taking her pulse. She feels the dull throb of her head, and the sting of the bandage in her arm before her eyes finds the contorted concentration in the face of the physician.

“What is it?” The voice of the old general growls, tight with anticipation and worry. The shadow of the large man falls across the room before the physician opens his eyes.

“I feel a floating pulse,” the physician says carefully. “Her grace is with child.”

She chokes, heart clenching - no - the face of her boy, swims into the surface of her mind, fusing herself with a warmth, an overwhelming longing to see him again. But - the pain of the events to follow is still a raw - red hot agony.

She sits upright before either of the audience had made a comment, of joy or otherwise, and peals back the bed - drape. Her burning gaze finds and settles upon Baek Ah who looks taken aback - frozen between two expressions.

“Consort Kang -” is all he manages to utter before she is standing in front of him, her hands clutching fistfuls of his collar.

“What - is - wrong - with - his majesty?” She grits out each word, her tone sharp enough to convey her meaning. “Speak!”

“Consort -”

“Don’t bother coming up with a lie Baek Ah - nim. I hope you care more than that about your brother.”

He sighs and feeling the last of resistance giving away, she leaves him and steps back, her weary body shaking with the lack of energy.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

She looks at him incredulously.

“My husband could be dying and you want me to sit down?” Her voice rises and the old general she had forgotten was still in the room lays a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Sit,” he says. “You do no help swaying on your feet.”

The blunt truth makes her sit, still shaking, her arms wrapped around herself. The old man turns to the physician.

“Out!” He barks, positively crushing any hopes the man had of being rewarded. He doesn’t need to be told twice though. After the door is shut behind him, he turns around to see her looking at him. In her eyes a gleam of resplendent determination.

“I need to go to him.”

“You cannot -” Baek Ah begins.

“I will - I don’t care if he orders my execution on sight. I will go to him!”

“Consort -”

“If she says she will go,” the old general says gruffly, throwing a dark look of challenge at Baek Ah. “She will. Park Soo Kyung will take her.”

 

Notes:

Chapter name comes from the Greek word 'sciamachy' which means to battle one's own shadow.
Ah - and I wasted a tissue box on this chapter, which proves once again that I am nothing but a sadist, who enjoys putting themselves in misery.
Thank you for reading, do share your thoughts!

Chapter 37: Return

Summary:

It is the place that made and unmade her - but it is a place she must return to.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It feels like a cycle that has returned her to a beginning of sorts. She braids and pins up her hair alone, unassisted after a long time. The process is therapeutic in a strangely comforting way. To brush and braid her hair, long and black, something so mundane and simple - something that belonged to a childhood before she became the young lady Kang - with a maid of her own - and standards to aspire to.

The deep red silk she wears is another sort of a beginning - revisited. It is the attire of senior court ladies and she had worn it before. When a prince had specifically asked for her from his father the king. That particular story ended in blood and pain - a cycle repeated several times over until she became a whole new person - until she became the rose of Kangs.

And now, she was to become another. Even if temporarily.

“You are lady Kim, from the princess’ retinue,” she remembered Baek Ah’s words quite well. He shifted in an uncomfortable manner, trying to suppress his unwillingness to help her. “From Silla - a distant cousin of the Kims. Originally a companion to the grand princess but now accompanying princess Seol - under lady Noh.”

She had not expected this favour from him, or this effective one. He takes her silence as disappointment.

“You can’t go into the palace and hope not to encounter any of the enemies,” he says then. “The princess residence is the furthest I can get you.”

“And the closest,” she admits. “I could get to him.”

She sips her drink thoughtfully.

“It does not matter. I’ve been a court lady before. And I’d rather - remain with Seol.”

“Is that wine?” He asks her suddenly, arching an eyebrow.

She cracks a smile, halfheartedly.

“Its red tea,” she looks at him expectantly. “Made of plum blossoms.”

Uninvited she pours him a cup and reluctantly he sits down beside her.

“We used to be drinking partners.”

She sighs at the wistful note of his tone and adds.

“I used to be a girl with head injury and you a prince who never learned to kill.”

“Soo - yah…”

“Jang Mi,” she corrects him. “I’m no more Hae Soo than I am Jang Mi, perhaps even less.”

“Can you not, can you not,” he struggles with the suggestion, frowns and attempts again. “Can you not stay back?”

She sips her tea in silence, and he sighs in defeat.

“You have no idea of the danger you are walking into.”

“If you could go back to the moment - then when she died -” she says slowly, aware of the old wound that she was cutting into. Regret burns in her, but no brighter than the longing that drives her soul. “If - you could save her, somehow, even if by dying yourself, would you hesitate?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, wincing, his grip tightening around the tea cup. But then, without opening his eyes, without moving a muscle he answers her with a question of his own.

“And if by dying I give her a cursed life of regret, guilt and a burden that never eases - demons that never sleep - like the life I live now - would such life be worth living?”

“I’m not going to die - Baek Ah.”

He takes out a pouch from his sleeve, a small embroidered thing that she finds vaguely familiar. He pushes it towards her.

“Do you know what this is?”

The pouch smells faintly of sandalwood and she touches it absentmindedly.

“A perfume sachet?” But as she speaks those words of confidence her hands are already tearing into the fragile silk, pulling out the dried herbs coiled and wrapped in wool - herbs that gives the scent of sandalwood but are nothing of the sort. Her fingers tremble as she snatches back her hand - as if the herbs had bittern her.

“Oh you know what those are -” Baek Ah shrugs, “guess from whose pillow it came.”

“This is vile - this - this -” she cannot find a word wicked enough. But the bite of acid is on her tongue nevertheless.

Of cause she knew what those dried plants were. It was part of learning to cure, that you learn ways that killed as well. And this particular herb was a favorite of the inner palace - a vile, demonic weapon a woman could wield against another woman.

“The dowager queen of Ryu.” Baek Ah answers her unasked question. “She is currently nurturing a dream of putting one of her daughters on throne. All her struggle to remove the current one would be useless if there is another to bear an imperial heir.”

“So she would do this to me?” It was one thing to know her aunt was a wild, ambition driven and often insensitive woman - but to be proven of her extent of cruelty - that she would have stolen the very chance of motherhood from her without beating an eyelid - it made her shiver.

“Had she known of the child she would have killed you. You can avert a blade - you can spit a poison but what would you do to the air you breathe?”

Tears sting her eyes, blurring her vision and shortening her breath.

“He knows?” She claps a hand to her mouth, pressing a sob into silence. “And all of this - all of this -”

For her. For their baby.

“He has done a lot.” Baek Ah rises to his feet heavily, draining his cup and looking at her with a gaze that leaves its burden like an impression upon her. “Do not let his effort go in waste. Princess residence - no further.”

He is almost at the threshold when she calls after him.

“Who is it going to be,” she asks. “Seo Nui - or Mun Hee?” But of cause she knows the answer before she finishes the question. The emperor cannot marry a widow.

“Mun Hee is already at the princess residence,” Baek Ah says instead, going around her question. When she turns around, his gaze is heavy with implications. “She is the princess’s taster.”

Despite her mood, a weary chuckle escapes Jang Mi’s lips. Only So could be so savagely sarcastic.

“So my aunt will not make mischief,” she notes with a grim nod.

“It is a matter few are privy to - including your aunt. The court is under the impression that she has been brought to court for a different purpose.”
”Is she not?”

“He will not marry her,” Baek Ah shakes his head. Then, in a lighter tone he adds. “Though I suspect his majesty enjoys keeping Jung on his toes - I don’t blame him entirely. It is wickedly entertaining.”

“Jung - nim, has feelings for her?” Jang Mi asks, circling her cup to make patterns with the dregs at the bottom, she considers the idea.   

“I imagine he does find it entertaining,” she says biting back a smile and looks up at Baek Ah. “Thank you Baek Ah nim!”

He lingers for a moment deciding whether to smile at her or not and finally says.

“If imperial brother is displeased - or worse, this is entirely your idea - consort Kang.” When he says ‘consort Kang’ it has none of the aloofness from before, but a mock salute kind of warmth as if it is an inside joke they share. Jang Mi cannot help the smile that curls her mouth. “Be safe -” he says then. “None of us want to lose you again.”

And they won’t - she thinks - finishing her hair. Neither would she lose any of them this time around.

**

There was a time when she nurtured a fascination about the capital. It was quite the illustrious city - surrounded by raging mountains - gates - watch towers - guards and garrisons. And now - within her, rises a whirl of recognition and nostalgia, a melancholy of two lifetimes worth bitter and sweet memories.

She think about Seo Kyung, sharpening his sword - preparing to set off after their cousin. There is a shower of sparks when the blade meets the spinning wheel of whetstone and his face shines in their light for a moment.

He had eyes of their father, black and shrinking into slits of displeasure. There were shadows in them, secrets he spoke nothing about. That night - just before his last departure was the closest she had ever come to unlocking them.

“What do you think of being a queen?” He had asked her, out of blue.

Despite the winter her cheeks heat up and she presses her freezing fingertips against them. There had been lot of talk about changing the monarch - the derailed Jeongjong’s reign of fear having reached its last scratch. Their cousin was one of the rallying forces - the most promising one. And the Kangs - her father and Seo Kyung - despite the counsel of her aunt was willing to put their men behind him. Jang Mi thinks about the fourth prince for a moment - there is something compelling about him - that when he arrives and negotiates, even her most unwilling father was reluctant to disappoint him.  

“I am spoken for -” she reminds him. “Unless you are willing to support a different prince -” she shrugs nonchalantly. “The prospects are bleak.”

Seo Kyung examines the edge of his newly sharpened blade and sighs.

“Changing the king - changes the world, sister.”

Fear comes and goes like a swirl of smoky breath. She struggles the thought away.

“Loyalty and love are two different things.”

“Are they - though?” Seo Kyung sounds unconvinced. “Do you think Hwangbos will continue to their streak? Will it be possible to be loyal to one prince and love the other?”

“Orabeoni -!”

“Forgive me, I did not intend to offend you,” he comes and crouches in front of her, staring into her eyes. There is no teasing gleam in his gaze and his eyes are heavy. “But I must know. Jang Mi - ya, do you really want him to be king? Or is it because you have fallen in love with -?”

“I heard he has a lady waiting back at the capital.”

“He has,” Seo Kyung confirms. “She is lovely. But she won’t be his queen.”

“Doesn’t matter if she has his heart.”

“Then why do you want me to go with him? Why help his cause? Why crown him the king?”

“Because he will be a good king. The right king,” she holds his eye, allows her conviction to seep into her words. “The tide is coming brother and the Kangs have to be on the right side when it does. And as for me - I don’t want a throne or a sword. I just want a faithful man.”

“And this Hwangbo prince is - a faithful man?”

“Orabeoni!” The words at the tip of her tongue vanish at the shadows in his eyes. “What do you know? What is it?” She asks instead.

“JeongJong will not sit and wait for his brother to claim the throne - especially not his wolfdog brother.”

“And how does he plan to stop it?”

“Well - you faithful man will know - won’t he?” She says nothing, but the implication is heavy in the air. “The eighth prince - is he working with the emperor?”

Seo Kyung shakes his head slowly.

“A man who changed the monarch several time can be no one’s subject sister. If anyone but the Hwangbo prince sits on the throne - he will be the first to be eliminated.”

“But he -”

“- has his hand in too many conspiracies to survive,” there is concern bleeding into his words as he places his hands heavily on her shoulders. “If it is with him that your heart truly lies - then you should not help any other attain the throne. When aunt speaks - she thinks of you. You shouldn’t urge me to go - sister.”

“But for him to be king - he should eliminate our cousin,” her voice is thoughtful. “The eighth prince would be a bloody king then.”

Seo Kyung looks uneasy, for the first time in their conversation he does not meet her eye.

“There is something you know…” she voices what she reads on his eyes before he leaves her and stands up, straight and tall, and distant. “Some other way - some conspiracy…”

“If there is - are you willing?”

She doesn’t speak, weary of the question itself. She thinks of their father always reminding her that she had a destiny of a queen. She thinks of the Hwangbo prince - gentle but intelligent - quick enough to grasp and keep up with her flitting thoughts. But then - she thinks of fire - wolves - and a long lost boy who carried her on his back.

“No.” She says. “You must go.”

“Father has postponed your engagement…” he says it like a warning, a foreshadowing of sorts.

Jang Mi laughs drily, looking at her brother.

“He is not mine brother - I do not dream of unattainable things. Neither do father. Princess Yeon Hwa will be the queen - and with her blessing, I will be her sister in law.”

Now that it is all said and done - friendships fallen and new bonds forged in fires of war and despair she wonders what it had been that Seo Kyung hinted at - the conspiracy that could have gained the eighth prince a throne?

Had it claimed her brother’s life in the end, trying to protect the emperor against a possible plot that could have questioned the legitimacy of his power? She thinks back to the shadows swimming in her brother’s eyes. Seo Kyung had been a man of secrets beyond her imagination. She had never known - had never imagined that he was a part of the shadows - a commander. She had never known that he had spied on the monarch - the mad king Jeongjong.

Was that the reason So had especially reached out for him? He had little use of Kang forces then, a little more of the power of their clan - but it was Seo Kyung that he wanted. It was a way into JeongJong that he sought. She understood that now - and could almost picture how it played in the ultimate termination of the mad king, with help of Hae Soo’s memories to fill the gaps. But then, but then, what was it that he meant? What was it that got him killed?

The watch towers of SongAk looms closer, their fires glistening like beacons in the snowy night. Breath tightens in her throat, memories flooding in. Even in the starlit night, it looks like a giant cage waiting to shut her in. A trace of trepidation seeps in, the nerves from the last time she entered the palace - a life time ago - convinced that she was saving lives - trying to convince herself into a different kind of bond…

Involuntarily she thinks of his hands on her waist, his breath in her ear, his words, determined.

“Don’t move -” and of cause it would not have been a false promise. He would have indeed taken her away, damn the consequences, had she given her assent.

It is a memory that she clutches to, as the giant gates rolls down - cutting the swirling winds outside, the bustle of the market place, the last lingering rays of the sunset - and the palace opens up ahead.

It comes like a storm to knock her breath, the searing memory of torture, the bruises, the cuts, the pain of wrenching bones -

But the pain of heart is heavier - deeper - betrayals - losses - deaths -

“I don’t think anybody should live without the freedom to choose their own fate…”

That was the man she fell in love with. That was the man she is going to save.

It is time she return to his side.

Notes:

A split chapter - you must hate this kind of end note by now. But I will try to edit and get the rest of it up as soon as possible. Since it is been a while I think I have cause to remind that Seo Kyung is Jang Mi's older brother - the heir to Kang clan who apparently was killed by So.
There is a certain mystery to his death which will take us to the core of this story, and of cause Sun Young, is his concubine/ mistress, who died of a mysterious illness in one of the first few chapters.
With that said, I take my leave for now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and that I will hear back from you! Thank for reading!

Chapter 38: Bait

Summary:

Every temptation is a bait in the game that they play.

Notes:

Unedited and probably littered with typos. I'm too exhausted to save you, please tread with caution.
Will edit later.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The water is black and still. Elusive about their depth and fuming slightly. The heat sizzling against the chill in the air calls forth like a siren and tension ripples over his weary shoulders. A throbbing ache wiggles down his spine, each scar strewn across his back a pinnacle of pain. Had it not blurred his mind - the pain - he would not be here. 

There is work waiting back at the privy chamber. Petitions to review after the conclusion of court, requiring private attention - state secrets, war strategies, letters from spies stationed at various courts and across the nation, from foreign diplomats. His head throbs at the thought, pointedly leading him towards the promise of comfort. 

Still he waits until the footfall of the attendants had died away before peeling off the last layer of clothing. Seclusion is a luxury that he could seldom afford, but the freedom, to allow his shoulders to droop, arms hanging heavy and a sigh to escape his lips, eases his mind a little. 

The water engulfs him into a warm hold, weary muscles relaxing cautiously. His reflection is distorted in the ripples created by his own movement and stars glitter up ahead, where the royal bath opens up to the heavens. 

Stars you could only see in Goreyo… 

Shaking his head, to get that thought - the longing - out of his head, So cups a handful of water and washes his face, washing away the traces of worn out concealer and with it the strain of reoccurring nightmares

 - of fire - of battles that never ceases - faceless foes that keep coming, coming and coming - until his arms are lead with effort, his throat parched and his blade broken. And somewhere behind him - he knows with a wrenching agony in his heart - she is dying. 

Then sometimes - he crawls back to her, bleeding, broken, defeated - with death at his trail. He dips under water with that particular image of her reaching out for him burning at the pit of his lungs. Flimsy strands of hair plastered to her face, eyes glittering gold in firelight.

Her hand on his cheek, his forehead against hers, he feels more than sees her lips curling against his. 

“You came…” she would say. “I thought you’d never see me again.”

He pulls himself out, gasping for breath, breaking the surface with a splash. But his eyes remain close, his heart remains burning. It is futile like water dripping away from the gaps of his fingers but he tries to hold on to that feeling of her smile against his - the moment when he could almost smell her breath, feel her warmth. 

He’ll never see her again.

It is a small price to pay - a small -

He loses that strand of thought and the next inhale. 

Soft fingers traces a knowing path down his face, along his nose, under his eye, the ridges of that jarred scar which is laid bare is alive with yearning - and when the inhale comes - it comes staggering, in an audible gasp. 

It is not real, he tells himself, not real. Those hands, that touch, she cannot be here. And yet, petulantly like a child prolonging a dream, he keeps his eyes closed, wishing that particular illusion to linger - even if it means that he is losing his mind. 

“I missed you,” she murmurs, her breath stirring against his ear. Palms splayed over his shoulders, climbing down his arms. “I missed you,” he feels against his skin the tremor of her words, the heat of her breath. “I missed you.”

“You are not here.” He mutters against his will, willing himself not to reach out for her and be disappointed. “Go away.”

“I won’t,” she promises, fervent - breathy. “I won’t.”

He flinches away from her as the pain returns, scalding like a hot spike driven through his shoulder. He clenches his fist and pulls away, trying to catch his breath, gritting his teeth. The pain pools and simmers and bubbles up and his eyes snap open. 

He sees her through the mist of vapor, hazy and blurred, stepping right out of his memories - wearing that deep red of court ladies - like when he had kissed her for the first time - her eyes wide, her face pale - layers of drenched garments clinging to her skin. 

She reaches out when he stumbles and footsteps echo down the hall. He turns at the sound of doors being opened and it is a courier with a message of his sister’s return to the capital - a message that could have waited. 

He spins around, his heart sinking in anticipation and she is gone, leaving nothing but rippling water behind.  

**

Seo Nui cuts herself on the harp - and the melody dies abruptly. She stares at the hairline of blood the string had drawn - the sting of pain already dying in the wind. Feeling dejected she places the instrument away, it seems as if everything she loved - has a penchant for her blood. 

“Your fingers are frozen numb,” Anjong doesn’t even look up as he comments. “Come closer to the fire.”

“No, thank you,” her reply comes out snappier than she had intended and hastily Seo Nui adds. “Your highness.”

He is writing by the fire, secret dispatches that she has no wish to compromise. Seo Nui sighs, among these half brothers and sisters who are a little more than strangers she feels suffocated. She could have joined grand princess Nakrang at her chambers - helped her to settle in - or manage some of her children - but then, she had seen the look her half sister had thrown her way, when she pointedly by - passed her and greeted her half brother. Seo Nui was not welcome in this townhouse of Kims. They were not merely brothers and sisters who shared a father, Nakrang was married to a cousin of Anjong’s and was practically family while Seo Nui - she is the woman who had been waiting for the assassins to kill him a few nights ago.  

“You don’t have to call me that -” he continues to write with a flourish and then waits for the ink to dry. Seo Nui laughs drily. 

“Your rank is above mine, grand prince Anjong - I am soon to be stripped of my own title.”

“It won’t happen.”
As he moves, she catches the stain of blood on his sleeve and flinches - recalling the screams of their assailants. 

“Those men -” she asks cautiously. “Do they live?”

He pauses, finally and looks at her. 

“Does the thought keep you awake at this ungodly hour?”

“You are awake too - your highness,” she points out, defensively. Seo Nui thinks of her mother’s torture chambers back at Jeongju - the wretched fated men who decided one day to cheat profit of a business - falsify accounts or damage goods. Her mother took pleasure in torture - pain that never killed, but slowly ate away at sanity. 

She imagines those assassins in her dungeons, pleading for mercy, delirious eyes - unfocused and hazy with pain. The shamans need practice - her mother would say.

She imagines Anjong saying something similar - and shudders at the thought. 

“Do you know who send them?” He breaks her train of thought. 

“My husband - I mean -” she swallows. “I mean -”

“He is not your husband - Gongjunim. Husbands don’t treat their wives such.” There is a suppressed fury in his tone and she knows instinctively that his anger is not on her behalf. There is something else - something old - simmering beneath the calm surface of his tone. Do you have an old feud with him? She wonders - but does not ask.

“That is not the decisive factor,” She tells him, clenching her fists to stop the trembling of her hands. “A cruel husband is still a husband.”
”A faithless one - isn’t.”

She doesn’t answer for she cannot tell him that it is all she has left. She cannot tell him of the desperation with which she holds into the only anchor to her life as it had been - trying to convince herself that this is all one - long - terrible - dream. They’ve snatched it all - her home, family, sister and even her title - she couldn’t very well allow them to convince her that her love had also been false. 

It is not false. She knows with a sinking feeling in her heart. It had never been there. Not false but not existing - even as a lie she had never been loved at all. And never would - she realizes now. 

“Come here,” he says again softer this time. 

She joins him in the pooling light of the fire. There is a long strap of paper laid out on his desk, blotched with blood and crinkled at places - torn off towards the edge. Beside it are several sheets of fresh ink, full of Anjong’s own writing. 

“I’ll show you something interesting.” He had said, when she was still debating whether or not to join him.

“A coded message -” she says now, eyeing the letters that makes no sense running the length of the strap. She feels a childish thrill at the prospect of decoding a secret - like they are playing some sort of a guessing game instead of possibly decoding treasonous communication. “You are building a key!”

“I have,” he agrees. “But still there are words I cannot decode. Which I must, if I am to keep up the ruse.”

“Ruse?”

“This,” he taps on the bloody strap. “Was the order given to the assailants the other night. There have been other messages of the same nature - back and forth, in and out of the capital. I still can’t read all of them.”

“How are they read?”

“The sender and the receiver must have a key with them - which they uses to write and read. They call it the map - we almost found it once.”

“And?” 

“We were betrayed - several of my men died - and we lost it,” he sighs. “But things are different now. For the first time we’ve caught a bunch of senders.”

“And you’ve replied to this - command?” She asks him. “The ruse - is to keep up the communication.”

“Interception.” He nods.

“But why are you telling me this?” She asks him, as it suddenly occurs to her. Anjong does not trust her, nobody does. She is the wife of the traitor.

“Because you are going to help me decode this - isn’t it better to be productive than freezing off if you are anyway going to stay awake?”

“But -” she waves a hand, unable to find proper words. “Why are you trusting me?”

You shouldn’t - she thinks but then draws blank as his eyes bore into hers. 

“Seo Nui,” he says. Not princess - not sister - Seo Nui. “You are not going to betray me.”

Oh she knows it is no declaration of utmost faith, there is an edge of a threat to his words. Of cause she cannot - the secret is anything but a bait, if she ever dares to betray him - Seo Nui is certain he has his methods of silencing her. But then, there’s warmth in his eyes, clear and simple - and for a moment she wants to hold his trust, earn it for herself. 

The trance lasts only a moment - one fire lit, toasty winter moment - and then the door slides open and cold winter stumbles in. Dripping wet and shivering - under the guise of the dark cloak she wears. 

“What in the name of heavens -” Baek Ah scrambles to his feet. “Consort Kang!”

“Baek Ah nim,” she peels off the cloak, heavy with snow and her teeth clatter. “Your message has been delivered.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses woman?” He growls, frowning and turns to look at Seo Nui pleadingly. She leaps to her feet at once, wrapping a trembling Jang Mi in her own cloak as she starts to lead her towards the fire. “Imperial brother is going to kill me! Who allowed you to enter the palace? Has Lady Noh finally lost all control over her subordinates?”

Jang Mi looks up from her place beside the fire. Her trembling had subsided and her eyes are instead pooling with tears. 

“He is in pain,” she murmurs, hugging herself for warmth. “He is suffering.”

Baek Ah kneels beside her, reaching for her trembling hands. 

“Soo - yah, please -” he says slowly. “This is not how you help him.”

“You wanted someone who could blend into the inner palace - nobody knows around that place as much as I do.”

“But that’s not why you went there,” he tells her. “Any shadow could have done it. You know it as much as I do. The queen has her own shadows - it never comes down to this. I told you didn’t I? Princess residence and no further. You promised me!”

“I missed him!”

“I would have brought him to you!”

“I miss him - I miss him - I can’t do this anymore! I can’t!” She bursts into tears and buries her face in her hands. "I didn't go there to see him. I just - I couldn't bear to see him like that... I just couldn't!"

Seo Nui pulls him away with a gentle hand on his shoulder - shaking her head mutely at him. 

“She’s pregnant,” she mouths. “Don’t argue.”

Baek Ah sighs heavily and steps away. 

“Stay here, tonight - warm yourself up.” he says stiffly. “Thank you - for delivering the message.”

**

She strikes a chord within him, producing a haunting melody that makes his soul shiver and cringe. When Daemok walks into the emperor’s privy chamber where she has no business being, Gwangjong regards her as a survivor does another survivor. Contrary to popular belief he did not hate her, the woman with whom he shared a father - a child - and the circumstances that stole the silk of their soul only to replace it with fire. He did not trust her - could not - when her soul is laid bare in the insane glitter of her eyes - calculative, cold, a gleam of a knife edge burning with a thirst that no amount of blood spilled would quench. 

One of her ladies bear a tray leaden with a smoking teapot, and the queen’s smile is sugared. Oh - he could very well see purpose thinly veiled behind it. He is mildly glad for the distraction, for his thoughts finally settle on this moment - ready to face the sweet faced predator instead of wondering itself into fantasies. The dream - delusion - sinks deep into his subconscious for the time being.

  She was not there. He tells himself sternly - quit wishing she were. She is safe where she is - away . He would not see her again - would not curse her again. Even if it kills him - slowly, agonizingly.

And the child -  

“I’ve been waiting to dine with your majesty,” Yeon Hwa says, approaching him, secure in her belief that she is of no use to him dead - that her neck is quite safe where it rests - between her shoulders. He exhales sharply and anchors himself in the present, in front of his queen. 

His head throbs at the intensity of chamomile fragrance from the tea that she pours, still smiling. It seems more like a default expression, that hollow smile with no warmth or emotion. “Exhaustion is no remedy for grief,” her words are calculated, soft and slightly trembling, she lays a hand on his, a bare brush of fingertips. “I heard your majesty is sleeping poorly.”

Oh, you have eyes at my chambers? He thinks, but says nothing. 

She expects him to snatch his hand back and is surprised when he does not. Yeon Hwa slowly releases a breath she had been holding, and allows her palm to rest atop his hand. The warmth of contact is lost on her as she is already moving to another step. “It’s a brew that helps sleep,” she goes on, a little softer. “I take a cup myself, often it eases my burden.” 

She doesn’t quite look at him, but weariness is apparent on his face. Beneath layers of fainting makeup, the ridges of his scar rises like hairline shadows - there but not there - just like the woman who covered that imperfection which defined him. 

Perhaps, YeonHwa allows herself to hope, she has finally started to fade away. Pressed and crushed under the burden of a nation. At least if that savage girl had managed that - to break this penance he holds himself in - she would make her death a little easier. 

Her thoughts are cut short when he holds her hand - actually holds it - turning her palm over to trace one sword - roughened fingertip along a tantalizing line. 

“Must be quite a brew,” he says softly, in a tone that makes her shiver with anticipation. “To ease your burden .”

When her eyes snap up, his gaze is boring into hers. 

“What blend is it, that washes away sins and unburdens sinners?”
”Pyeha,” her hand clenched into a fist, Yeon Hwa seethes. Angry teas burning in her eyes as she squeezes them shut. “I’ve lost a son!” Looking at him, her lips tremble. “Our son! Don’t I - let along compassion, don’t I deserve to be spared the humiliation?” He doesn’t say anything and fury boils inside her, pouring out against her will. “I buried him alone - my precious boy! Did you spare a thought to him before driving yourself into the arms of some savage witch in the mountains?”

“Wanghu.” He does not rise his voice at her.Instead looks at her quite exasperatedly. It is a look that he has mastered, a quirk of an eyebrow, a twitch of his mouth - enough to make her feel like a petulant child, the indignity makes her furious. “This is privy chamber - my privy chamber - behave yourself. You cannot march in when you please and start throwing around unfounded accusations.”

“Unfounded accusations?” She asks him deliriously. 

“Escort the queen back to her chambers,” the emperor addresses queen’s ladies, instead of Yeon Hwa herself, only making her more furious. 

“It was her brother that poisoned my son! How could you? How could you marry that traitor’s sister?”

He holds the fist that she hurls at him, pulling her closer, staring her down. 

“It won’t be the first time if I did,” his reply is a whisper brushing against her ear. “Will it?” Her eyes widens and he hears the catch of her breath. “Let us not play games, Yeon Hwa - blood cannot wash your hands clean. You know who is to blame for crown prince’s death - you know it better than anyone.” She gulps, shaking her head, trying to pull herself free. “This endeavor is futile.I will not lie with you again. Go to your room, enjoy your position - while it lasts. Because justice will come counting very soon.”
She pushes him away, stumbling to find her own balance. Her ladies drop to their knees immediately, begging for forgiveness on behalf of their queen. But she is oblivious to them, staring at him - wanting to hold and shake him - until that sarcastic twitch to his wretched mouth it peeled off. 

“You think it’s easy? You’ll bring some pagan wench and crown her over me? Do you think bringing over Kims and Parks will sway the court? That - that old, retired general could sway them? Yes - indeed - your majesty! Let us not play games - the court will never accept a barbaric Kang as their queen! Never!”

“Wasn’t I clear enough?” He cuts her off sharply. “Take her away! The queen is barred from my privy chambers henceforth. If I have to entertain her tantrums ever again - I’ll see to it that her entire household feels the extent of my wrath.”

He watches as eunuchs from his own entourage leads her away his jaw clenched. Purpose - he wonders, he could not quite pinpoint what her purpose had been. It couldn’t be as childish as an attempt to seduce him - no - Yeon Hwa was more subtle even in her desperation. It almost seemed as if - as if - she wanted to be chased away. This visit was testing of waters - for what - what did she want to see? 

The slight shift in the shadows as Chun joins him makes him pause. 

“Grand General Park has returned?” 

Chun hesitates for a moment, and the pause gives him all the answer he needed. The emperor turns to regard his head of guard with a icy glare. So that’s what it had been - he notes to self. Yeon Hwa wanted to pass that tad bit of information to him and see what he would do. If he would go running - now that she seems aware. She is always apt in pressing weak points - Yeon Hwa - how joyous it must be to think she had discovered one of his. 

How joyous indeed. 

“Bring over my furs! We are going out.”

**

The doors to her chambers close behind her like bars caging her in. Yeon Hwa cannot help the grin that twists her mouth. A cruel twist it is that marred her beauty but she cares little. Tossing back her head she laughs. 

“Oh yes - go, go lead them to her,” she mutters. “Fishing is never a game to the fish that bites the bait - your majesty.” From her sleeve she takes out a thin strap of lettering - a coded message passed into her hands through a line of spies. “This game has been mine from the moment you staked your heart.”

She fiddles with the strap for a moment, allowing the fire to gloss over the information passed by her assassins. She hardly forgave failures - but the men drive a hard bargain. The information they supplied her instead - Lady Kang is with Parks - could change her game.

“Poor old general, found himself a new daughter,” she sang under her breath, tossing the message strip into the hungry flames. “Sadly - sadly - she turned out a traitor."

 

Notes:

Okay. 4k. I know it's way too long than what I normally post. But I couldn't possibly cut it somewhere in the middle of Seo Nui and Baek Ah's conversation. So instead of two updates you get one extra large!

The map - this is a long forgotten reference to something from very early chapters. There was a traitor they caught during war, who was tortured by So and questioned on this...uh ah? Anyone remembers? No. Well after some 30 odd chapters the map returns.
Do share your thoughts, any doubts you might have.
Thank you for reading!
Will be back soon! :-)

Chapter 39: Ashes

Summary:

A Spark lying underneath the ashes is enough to set a forest aflame

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The burn in her heart is nothing pleasant and Jang Mi swallows hard willing the twisted thoughts away. It is not a thought that she could hide from the counter part of her conscious - but an emotion - a much darker and simpler shadow of a thought - that lingers on her tongue, that burns under her skin - jealousy.

The shame of it makes her flinch.

Soo must know - it is obvious, given how entwined they’ve become - no longer two distinct minds with different purposes but one soul with two lifetimes worth of memories. It kills her. To think that some of those memories - the most dazzling - most intimate ones - belong to another woman.

It was her that he saved - sought - longed for. Each look, each touch, each whispered endearment - though she could recall them so vividly none of those moments belonged to her. It hurts, in a twisted primal way. She wants all those memories for her own - to live those moments, bask in his love - claim it all for herself.

It is wrong - very, very wrong. She had made a bargain - hers was the revenge and the love belonged to Soo. Of cause Soo would know - know very well - the twisted desire that took her to the royal baths, took her to him when she could have escaped unnoticed.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that - I’m sorry - I just - I -” Wanted a memory of my own…

She thinks of the broken fear that pulled her away against all her yearnings.

I didn’t want him to call out your name - again. I didn’t want to hear that.

I’m sorry -” she mutters hugging herself. The warmth of fire slowly seeping through, trying to repel the lingering sense of chill.

But there are no distinct feelings of Soo to be felt, no sense of betrayal - fury or disgust. All she drowns in is her own melancholy - or Soo’s - it makes no difference.

I don’t deserve your name - you are so good - so naive - so - so pure. I ruined you with my poison. You deserve to be loved with reverence - the way he does. I - she feels the tears brimming and then falling away and wonders if it is her own despair or that of Soo’s - wonders if there was any way to tell. I’m a weapon - she falls back into the words of her aunt, blunt yet drawing blood wherever they struck. Weapons don’t deserve love - but I love him. Forgive me - forgive me - “I’m sorry!” But I have no choice - I know you would never play with someone’s trust - and Baek Ah is a friend - but I have no choice. I must know - I must find out. There is no other way.

“She is ice cold and still shivering,” even in muffled notes Seo Nui is concerned. “I think you should call a physician before she comes down with fever.”

It wouldn’t be the first time she had willingly made a bait of herself, Jang Mi listens in, her knuckles still pressed against her mouth, more in prayer than in cold. She wants this conversation to go her way.

“She is not supposed to be here,” Baek Ah sounds bothered. “I can’t call a physician. It attracts too much attention -”

“Then someone - someone from shadows?”

She imagines Baek Ah shaking his head, biting his lip as he thinks. Think - think… She mumbles to herself, sleepily. Her head feels heavy as lead. Her weary muscles no longer have any strength left to shiver, but the cold lingers like an aftertaste of a heady wine. Sleep seems like an enchanting proposition, the heavier she feels - Jang Mi curls herself, thinking distinctly of the mountains in Shinju.

“Hyung - nim will kill me…” is the last thing she hears.

**

He touches the blade contemplatively. The decorated sword attracts too much attention. No. It will not do. So puts it away in favour of his twin daggers - weapons that could be concealed on his person will have to suffice.

“Pyeha?” Chun is a man of few questions. But his brows are furrowed trying to interpret his monarch’s intentions. The Eunuch who helps the emperor to dress being no stranger to hidden weapons, steps back and waits until So had strapped them safely before helping him don the outer robe.

“Chun - ah? Pick three of your best men to accompany us, there is no need to parade the entire imperial guard,” he tells nonchalantly pulling over his furs. Then catching the inquiry on Chun’s face adds, “We are getting ambushed tonight.”

To his credit Chun only stiffens a little but bows and leaves to comply with his orders. He might have worked it out for there is a gleam of excitement in his eyes when later they ride into the swirls of a subsiding storm. The three men he had chosen carry no weapons except their heavy swords. So nods in approval before they cross over to the Park residence. He pauses for a moment at the threshold, lying a heavy hand on Chun’s shoulder.

“Offense must be theirs.”

“Yes - your majesty.”

“Announce my presence,” he says out loud.

**

She wakes up to Shin Young’s hand on her forehead and Jang Mi inhales a rattling breath.

“You are awake - your grace,” the shaman says warmly. Seo Nui looms over them, watching with a cautious eye. There is a mixture of concern, doubt and fear in her eyes and she realizes that the Ryu princess does not trust her mother’s right hand in anything good. Her throat feels like sand paper and she coughs rather painfully -

“Water -” she croaks.

“There is a brew you must drink your grace, I will bring it -”

When Shin Young moves to get up however she reaches out to grab her wrist - tighter than absolutely necessary.

“I will bring it.”

It is Seo Nui who leaves, throwing one last tentative look over her shoulder at Jang Mi who continues to cough.

The door slides shit behind her.

“Your grace -” there is a note of fear in the woman’s tone. Good. She thinks. Makes my job easier.

“I have questions for you,” she says without further ado. “And it will do you good not to attempt any fabrications.”

“My lady I would never -”

“Latch the door.”

“My lady the princess -”

“Latch the door!”

Shin Young trembles rising and complying with her command. When she returns her attention is on the needle she holds between her fingers and Jang Mi’s lips twist slightly.

“It’s poisoned - yes. But not meant for you,” she says slowly. “Lie to me - Shin Young, I will just…” she runs the tip of the needle along the side of her throat, illustrating her threat. “And the grand prince will deal with you.”

“Your grace!” The woman exclaims. “You are with child!”

“Ah - so it was you. You told his majesty. Very well - then, I believe the sentence of poisoning the potential heir to the throne is too heavy for you Shin Young - ah, try not to lie - hmm?”

Shin Young throws herself on the ground, bowing low - imploring. Jang Mi wills her tone to remain impassive, though the tips of her fingers that hold the poisonous needle are ice cold. Soo would never do this. She thinks. She would never put her child even in the shadow of a danger and I just used him as a bait.

“What did his majesty want to know?” Shin Young looks up at her, eyes wide in horror. “Not that difficult a question - is it? Or would you prefer execution after all -” the needle is back at her throat and Shin Young swallows audibly. “Speak! It was my aunt wasn’t it - she sent you to speak to him? What did he want to know?”
“His majesty - his majesty asked me about the curse and how to relieve your grace from it’s burden.”

“I see. And you told the emperor severing ties between us would work?”

The door rattles and they both jump. Seo Nui speaks from outside, her voice raised.

“Open the door at once!”

Jang Mi looks at Shin Young and raises an eyebrow.

“Your grace is no longer the emperor’s talisman.”

“I’ve heard blood curses cannot be undone so very easily,” she says.

“It is not a blood curse that is upon his majesty,” Shin young says slowly, her words drown in the rattling of the door frame. “No. It is much much worse.” She sighs and continues. “I did try to curse his majesty, but I had warned the queen beforehand, his majesty’s star is far too bright. I don’t know what went wrong, but I failed.”

“And now?”

“The curse upon him - that your grace briefly took upon yourself as a talisman is an ash-bone curse. There is no counter to it.”

The banging and rattling ceases, and Jang Mi sits up, knowing Seo Nui had gone to call people over, her heart rate accelerated, there was little time.

“Any curse can be terminated by killing off the caster,” she says rather darkly. “Do you dare lie to me?”

“It is the truth, your grace. The caster of an Ash - bone curse cannot be killed. They are already dead.”
**

The old general Park has hardly changed from the day he bid to step down from his position. Back in the thick of the palace where he lost his daughter there are shadows in the old man’s eyes and hard lines around his mouth.

“I knew you would come,” So tells him over a cup of wine. “But still, I owe you my gratitude.”

“Pardon me, I didn’t come for you - your majesty,” the old man barks, there is however an admiration in his eyes. “Your majesty played your hand well.”

“My intention was not to manipulate you - grand general. You misunderstand me.”

The old man says nothing for a moment, sipping deep from his cup. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“It is I who should be offering my gratitude,” he says after a moment in a gruff voice. “Your majesty gave an old man a reason to retrieve his blade.”

“When I should be giving him a reprieve from his battle hardened life.”

General Park clicks his tongue.

“For some men reprieve lies on the edge of a blade,” he says heavily. “I haven’t slept once without dreaming of my girl - perhaps such sleep will only come when it is time to cross the river.”

“I’ve killed a lot of men,” So tells him. “I barely recall all of them. But there are only few whose blood I cannot wash off my hands. My brother’s. Your daughter’s. General Kang’s.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, picturing Seo Kyung behind closed eyes. He was a handsome man, proud - young and loyal. It was not the death he deserved.

The last time he saw Seo Kyung he was no longer that handsome, proud man. Not that he cared. So had punched him until his knuckles bled, until the man lay at his feet coughing blood. Through a film of fury that boiled and threatened to drown him he reined himself in.

“Why?” He had asked him. “Why Seo Kyung - WHY?”

“The emperor must be protected,” Seo Kyung repeats through a mouthful of blood. “The emperor must be protected.”

“That was my son!”

“The emperor must be protected…”

“This is just what they wanted - do you realize that general Kang?” He asks him after a shaky inhale. “Playing this charade of madness is how you plan to protect your clan - your father - your sister?”

“The emperor must be protected -”

“Tell that to bureau of justice when they drag your sister by her hair -”

“Please - not her, not Jang Mi - no -”

“You haven’t truly lost your senses - have you general?” He crouches down, so that the lying man’s eyes - bloodshot and wide - are level with his. “I demand to know - what is the information that you are concealing from me?”

“The shadows are breached,” Seo Kyung rasps. “There is a traitor among us. What I know - I cannot speak of it, not here, not here. There are ears everywhere.”

“Seo Kyung…”

“ You must kill me - Pyeha - I beseech you! Kill me as a mad man who committed treason - it will save them, it will save us all.”

"There is little I could do for any of them -" 

“I was foolish to get her married to the tenth prince…” General Park sighs and recalls his attention. It is a guilt that he poisons himself with, that he had been quite blind to the power struggle of the court. It was he who brought danger to the tenth prince’s doorstep by marrying his clan’s power to the already powerful Wang Gyu’s.

“She was happy with him - however fleeting that was.”

“But we both agree - staying alive is better than staying happy?” General Park raises an eyebrow. “Is that not why your majesty has chosen this particular course?”

“I have more selfish reasons -” he confesses slowly. “Reasons that does not befit a king.”

They stop at once at the sound that is muffled and sifting in the silence. Almost a brush of wind, a whisper in the night - but to a trained ear - unmistakable tapping of light footsteps on the roof.

“And here they come,” says general Park.

Notes:

The rest of this chapter will be posted separately. I'd rather not post another 4k giant. :-)
See you soon!
PS: 4.5K!!!! My goodness so many views! ❤

Chapter 40: Necromancy

Summary:

To take her down - they raise ghosts of her past.

Notes:

Dark read ahead.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Park forces are used to being baits to lure enemies. The men barely move as the footfalls draw near and surrounds them.

Three. So counts.

Five.

Seven.

Nine.

The doors are broken and along with the winds of dying storm outside, chaos is unleashed. The assailants dressed in black to hide themselves and their cause, coming from three different directions - in groups of three. They enter the darkened entrance hall and pause - feeling disoriented by the lack of light and life. And in that pause of a heartbeat the Park forces are upon them.

The shouts - clashes of blades and braking, thrashing rattle the night. Neither the emperor not the grand general had moved from their places.

“Fools,” So mutters watching the fight below.

He had barely spoken when arrows filter through flapping windows, finding the soldiers with dead accuracy and taking most of them down with a single fleet. There are three remaining from the original nine assailants - who gather themselves and check their fallen enemies. Above them, the imperial guard - emperor and general Park continue to wait in the shadows. They trade carefully what they now presume to be an unguarded house to open the doors for more of their numbers.

General Park makes a move to draw his blade and finds the emperor’s gaze on him. He shakes his head in a gesture to wait. And so they do, as the men file in and draw their weapons.

It is then that Chun reappears by the emperor’s side, blood on his blade and across his face.

“Archers?”

“All taken.”

So barely moves his gaze from the mob of men - it takes him a moment to pin point the leader. Something about the way he moves flickers a memory in his subconscious, a twitch of unease. So shifts watching the brawny man with his slightly limping gait. A tortured - probably once broken and never properly fixed leg - he deduces. Why would Yeon Hwa chose such a person to attack them instead of a well able assassin? He puts the thought to the back of his mind as he taps on the railing.

“Cut the ropes - seal the trap.”

All it takes is a swish of a dagger - for the hunters become the hunted. The men who came in hopes of terminating a consort may never have anticipated facing off an army - let alone the shadows that had been waiting for them. When the ropes are cut and the doors to the compound fall with a resounding ‘thud’ trapping them in - the men pause and in that brief moment the blades of the shadows descend upon them.

“Easy meat,” remarks general Park with a huff.

“Where’s that man?” So pauses with a frown - he had been watching Chun as he took down two of the assassins and the leader had briefly escaped his notice, vanishing into the shadows of the hall. “The man with a red ribbon on his hilt.” It does not sit well with him, that a man would continue on his prowl for prey when his own companions are being hunted by the foe - for he had known one such man before.

Another twitch of unease and So turns around and descends into shadows himself, unsheathing his daggers as he goes.

“Pyeha!” The general calls after him, but the unease grips him so tightly that he keeps moving, straining his ears for any sounds from the vanished man’s feet.

Then something shifts in the shadows. It is so unlike him to let his own mind play tricks on his senses but the gait, the silhouette of that man - the troubling familiarity of it all bothers him too much.  

It is perfectly something Yeon Hwa would do - especially when she thinks her target is Jang Mi. Something that befits her cruelty - her venom - to have her rival chased and hunted by the most gruesome of her demons.

A crack on the floorboard and he throws the dagger towards the sound, catching the sleeve of the man - barely missing his shoulder. So leaps towards him - his other blade drawn, just as the man pulls himself free in an instant. Their weapons collide as the two men spins and lands on their feet - a clank that is sharp in the night.

The man has blades on his both hands, his sword in one and So’s dagger in the other and chuckles as he draws both and So parries away.

The man is heavy in his offence, using the strength of his bulky arms to compensate on his faulty footwork. He feints and dodges and blocks, swinging and slashing whenever the opportunity presents itself. He fights like a soldier - not an assassin. But he fights with a grudge - not a duty.

So feints right and jabs his wrist hard against the man’s jaw, crouching himself and bringing his elbow smashing on what he deduces as the man’s weak knee. There is a satisfying crunch of bones and the man drops his sword but when So completes the spin and returns his dagger to the man’s throat, he has recovered enough to crash a heavy arm across his ribs and send him smashing into the wall behind. The heavy arm presses against his throat - crushing its weight against his windpipe and his own dagger that had been in the hands of his opponent sinks below his ribs.

“Ugh!” So grits his teeth and with all the strength he could master plunges his own weapon into the arm that cuts off his air - the man howls - the moment that So uses to tear off the cloth that covers his face.

The shock of the sight that unveils before him has So stumbling backwards. The face of the man is marred with a cut that runs the length of his face from forehead to chin, destroying both his nose and tearing his mouth in a hideous way that his lips hang helplessly, unable to cover the decaying teeth within.

It is not the disfigurement that stuns him - for he had seen that gash - now gnarled and healed - being raw and bloody. He knew it was a pointed end of a broken hairpin that had torn that face in half.

“Orabeoni -” he could hear a faint echo of a girl’s faltering tone. She comes to him on unsteady feet, clutched in her hand is the bloody hair pin, with its tip broken off.  

That pin - he had bought it to gift his mother the next time he visited her. The monkey girl had stolen it, without as much as a word of seeking permission. He had sought her to bully her and retrieve it - not to find her like this. It is the fury that boils within him that brings him to his knees when Jang Mi - a shivering ten year old barrels into him, he barely sees her bruises - starting to bloom reds and purples on flush pink skin of her throat - before she borrows into him. Her fits barely has any strength but feels like a hammer heaving upon his ribs.

“You owe me your life,” she says then. “I call upon it now. Save - me!”

The Kangs never begged. Neither would she. Instead she makes it sound like his duty - her right.  

His hand tightens in her hair, holding her against him - as anger continues to simmer and consume him.

“Who?” he asks willing not to sound as murderous as he felt.

“Song Dal -” she mumbles. “Song Dal.”

And Song Dal stands before him now. The same Song Dal whose face she had torn in half and whom he had hunted and killed. Killed for daring to lay his hands on a child - for being the twisted pedophile that he was to see his cousin as a key to wealth and power.

It is not the disfigurement that stuns him - it is the fact that this man - this vile, spawn of devil - stands before him, very much alive.

The man chuckles as he pulls out the bloody dagger that So had plunged into him before tossing it aside. The lightheaded- ness makes him stumble when So tries to grab him. Song Dal doesn’t wait - but simply takes the opportunity to escape.

But he doesn’t manage much further when another dagger takes him down.

“Hold him - he is the leader! ” Chun returns to his side, issuing a brisk command to the two men trailing after him, slightly out of breath, holding his shoulder when So all but collapses on him. “Pyeha!”

“Where is she?” He growls, bunching a fistful of Chun’s collar. “Where is consort Kang?”

**

“And -” Shin Young swallows, licking her dry lips. “His majesty wanted to know if - If I could remove lady Soo’s soul from your grace’s body.”

The fist she had been clenching slackens away in shock and a stunned silence follow as Jang Mi tries to find her voice. If I could remove lady Soo’s soul from your grace’s body - remove lady Soo’s soul - and break the last thread that holds us together?

“And what did you tell him?”

Shin Young doesn’t look at her, but trembles all the same. Jang Mi squeezes her eyes shut and wills herself to remain in that icy state of indifference. He never promised love - you are not allowed to feel betrayed.

“Answer me!”

Instead of replying her directly, Shin Young says,

“Life threads are the currency of magic. To get what you want you pay with life - young, old, animal, human - sometimes your own. Your grace made a bargain of life when you took lady Soo’s face - it can only be dissolved by paying in the same coin. The Ash -Bone curse would eventually take his life - his majesty wanted this lowly servant to use the thread of his life to cut you free.”

So that they could leave this world together…

Jang Mi exhales a shuddering breath of hurt, betrayal and fury. Jealousy and longing burning her mercilessly.

Why do you love her so? That one lifetime is not enough? That you are willing to offer your life to cut her free?

“I don’t hear her anymore - because -” She swallows. “Because -”

“More life his majesty loses - more distanced your grace will feel from lady Soo - until one day you will be free of her, a price payed off.”

“You are wrong!” Her own voice sounds so distant - so cold and calm that it makes her shiver. Oh Shin Young, do you know who performed that charm? Do you think it’s so easy?

Thump!

A fist bangs against the door and Jang Mi falls silent abruptly. All this while she had ignored the knocking, rattling of the door frame and continuous calls to open the door. But by the second thump she is on her feet - rushing towards the door.

She fumbles with the latch as the third thump rattles the door and slides it open before clasping a hand to her mouth.

So stands there, pale and bloody, looking at her with desperate eyes.

“Pyeha?”

He falls upon her, heavy and unyielding - the cold weight of him making her stagger backwards. But she holds him secure, hands that clutches at him coming off stained in blood.

“Jang Mi - yah,” he mutters, muffled against her and it makes her falter, her name on his lips. The tormented melody of those syllables. “Jang Mi - yah.”

Not Soo - not her. It is all she could think for a moment, holding him against her with trembling hands and a heart that hurts at how faster it flutters. Not Soo - Jang Mi -!

“He - won’t - touch - you - again. Won’t let him. Won’t -”

“Who?”

“Song - Dal.”

Notes:

Before you ask me why I brought a new villain at the last stitch of the story - he is just a bridge that takes you to the real dragon, the one we are supposed to take down. The fact, which I want to draw attention to is that a dead man - is apparently alive and unless you doubt So's skill with a blade - that needs to be thought over. Food for your thought, until we meet again!
PS: Wolf and I has officially become my most viewed ff - WHOAAAAA!!! A super large thank you, with cherry on the top! I'll try to keep it as engrossing as possible in the future too! :-)

Chapter 41: Dark Queen - I

Summary:

What she holds dear - defines her.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Congratulations your majesty - a prince!” Lady Noh’s words are clipped, her face weary and pale. She carries the baby - wrapped in auspicious red - and he reaches out automatically for that precious - warm weight. But he cannot for the life of him tear his eyes away from her haunting expression. He is only dimly aware of the others kneeling for the newborn, or their cries of greetings and blessings.

“Consort Kang?” He presses instead, trying to decipher the shadow that lurks behind the old woman’s gaze. She doesn’t reply for one agonizing moment, instead looking at him with a mixture of pity and blame. “Court lady Noh - what of consort Kang?”

“The midwives are trying,” she swallows thickly. “We cannot stop the bleeding - Pyeha!” She cries out abruptly when So rushes past her, thrusting the baby blindly back into her hands. The child begins to wail and the woman chases after him. “Your majesty you cannot enter - your majesty!”

The room is smotheringly hot and stenches strongly of blood - her blood - he shudders at the thought - for a moment when he barges in every candlelit shadow stiffens. Then the midwives shuffle to stand aside and his eyes find her.

He swallows.

She glows, drenched in sweat, clumps of hair plastered to the sides of her face as pale as a waning moon. Her lips twitch when she notices his presence, curling with a ghost of a smile. She raises a trembling, white hand towards him.

“Lord husband?”

The urge to reach her and snatch her from the claws of cruel fate is something he could hardly suppress. Her head rests against his heart heavily. She settles against him as if sleep is beckoning her and his hands starts to tremble. He clutches on her - harder - it must be painful.

“Can I get my three wishes now?” Her voice is husky, as if her throat is parched.

He swallows again, an absentminded hand stroking her hair.

“What do you want?”

“I didn’t see him - my boy - can I -”

“Bring the prince,” he tells the nearest woman.

“But Pyeha - it is considered a bad omen -”

“Now!”

The woman scatters away, clearly frightened at the icy edge to his tone. Soon the wailing baby returns, waving his fists - complaining at the world in general - back to his mother’s embrace.

“Ah,” she marvels. He has to help her to hold him, for she hardly has any strength to sit up. But her eyes are alight in wonder as she caress the newborn with careful tips of fingers.

“What would you call him?” He asks softly - afraid of speaking louder and breaking her trance. There is a little surprise in her eyes - it is usually a father’s right to name his progeny - but she doesn’t comment on that. So pauses as he finally looks at the baby. “He has your eyes,” he marvels then.

 “Ju,” she says, cuddling the child against her bosom. “He’s always been Ju.”
She brushes her lips against his forehead - the baby just tries to snuggle against her, yawning, puckering his rosy mouth. “My fortune goes with you…” she mumbles over the soft tuft of dark curls on the baby’s head, her voice choking.

“Don’t say that!” His response is automatic, so is his clenching fist, the burn behind his eyelids. The words she murmur are quite often bidden by mothers in the mountains - a farewell to son’s who leave for battle - never to return. He looks away, willing to swallow the bile of guilt that rises in his throat. But her soft hands are there to pull his gaze back in.

“Look at me,” she says - she wishes. “Pyeha…”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,” he bites back on the bitterness but the words nevertheless make her flinch. “This isn’t right -”

“Oh but it is what I want,” she says rather wistfully. “You did nothing wrong. Did I not tell you - I don’t care how brief or how fleeting - I just want to keep my promises.”

“Tell me what else you want -” he says instead, now that she lays the baby down and settles back against him, he could feel the falter in her pulse better - and it feels like a catch in his own breath. Her eyes are closed, for a moment he wonders if he had exhausted her. But then she replies.

“I’d like to go back to mountains - up the misty hills - the trotting paths - singing trees - snow caps - owls, wolves, home…perhaps to rest there - like my mother. That and -”

“And -?”

She blinks and looks at him, a pale hand reaching to trail the ridges of his scar fondly.

“Lie to me.”

“Huh?”

“I wish - no - I need - you to lie,” her voice drops to a wistful whisper. “Lie that you love me?”

**

He wakes up to a searing pain in his shoulder and another agony much deeper rising from the last traces of a dying nightmare - to find her eyes fixed on him. There is silver light filtering into the room, signaling of the dawn breaking and fingers of the first light caress her weary face.  

There are other shadows he notices with a second glance, lingering just beyond the focus of his gaze. The familiar colors of palace workers merging into a blur. The pain is ebbing away as if it had not really been an injury but a manifestation of his own fears as he drinks in the sight of her before gasping for a breath, trying to swallow the acid left behind by that memory.

“S -”

She rises abruptly, lips pressed into a line of displeasure. There is something about the look she gives him that reminds him not of Soo but of a willy and wild ten year old with a knack of finding herself in the thickets of brawls.

“Lady Noh please inform Grand Princess Nakrang that her imperial brother is awake,” she says briskly, her brusque tone hinting at a sleepless night. She strides off without bidding leave as he tries to reach for her hand - he only manages to brush his fingers against hers and to his astonishment finds them swollen, puffy.

But then his sister is looming over him and she is gone in the resulting chaos. Nakrang had grown into a buxom and rather maternal looking woman after giving birth to three princes. There was a distinct similarity between her and his later mother, smoothed out only by her too wide eyes and the overwhelming concern in them. She is wearing colors of her husband’s clan - So notices absentmindedly - his mother would have been furious and perhaps rip off the offending lavender purple on the spot - he thinks then as Nakrang marches in with her hands on her hips and a glare that would make their mother proud on her face.

“Nice of you to drop by - imperial brother, I did not quite expect this magnitude of greeting!” So winces, feeling gingerly for bandages on his body and fingers tracing up his shoulder. “It was fortunate that Lady Kim was here -”

“Call her back,” he tells her, still staring at the door through which she disappeared. “Ask consort Kang to -”
”Lady Kim,” Nakrang says pointedly and in a slightly raised tone. “Has other tasks of the household to attend to. I’m sure she will return when her services are needed.” She turns others who loiter around and orders. “Wait for me outside!”

“But I -”

“Imperial brother,” Nakrang says softly. “You are quite the contradiction - is this not what you originally wanted?” Her words are followed by a lengthy pause as he frowns. So was she punishing him for pushing her away - is now a good time for their little game of grudges?

“I want to make sure she is safe,” he mutters, rather guiltily that Nakrang has to lean in to catch his words. His sister has that uncanny ability of guilt - trapping him - he had almost forgotten.

“Your kindness is a cruelty to her,” she sighs watching him with what was unmistakably pity. “Do not give her hope if you cannot bear the thought of giving away your heart.”

“I -”

“The queen was here.” The abrupt change of subject pulls him back as if he was doused with ice water. So blinks stupidly as Nakrang scrunches her nose. “Apparently, parading after late night curfew is in fashion after our dear mother passed away - I could almost imagine her scandalized look if she saw her daughter in law marching into princess residence at such an ungodly hour!”

“Omoni’s reasons for the rule were different…” So says with a grimace. “There is a limit to the number of women she could keep her eye on. She was more concerned with -”

“How many of them ended up concubines - yes,” Nakrang nodded and then smirked - eerily resembling her mother. “It occurred to me last night.”

“Does she know I’ve been moved here…” So trails off as the meaning of her words settled with him. “Sister - what have you done?”

If possible Nakrang’s smile drew wider.

“Oh nothing much,” she cackled. “My dear imperial sister in law wanted to know where her husband was. I told her he was in the princess residence - and she need not have worried for my lady Kim is attending him. It is not quite becoming of the queen to interfere with who the emperor chooses to spend his time with is it?”

So scowls knowing full well Nakrang being as hostile as she was towards Yeon Hwa would not have phrased the statement quite so smoothly.

“She won’t come again,” Nakrang says with conviction. “If I know Yeon Hwa at all she will not forget this dent to her pride for a long time.”

“What have you done?” So laments. “She is going to snoop to the ends of earth now -”

“For a man who built an elite force of spies from scratch you are awfully naive about somethings brother -” Nakrang settles on his bedside, ready to impart her knowledge. “People dig into what they cannot see - not what is crystal clear. If you want someone to be oblivious about something you should tell them the truth without explanations or directions. As far as Yeon Hwa knows I’ve told her all that there is to know. Where you are. Who you are with. And if she indeed wastes her resources looking she is going to find out everything about lady Kim who is a distant cousin of my husband and our thirteenth brother. She will of cause be furious but then that is all she can do about it.”

“And if she sends in a spy to see who this lady Kim really is?”

“Do you really think a spy can get into this residence where your daughter is?”

He shakes his head slowly, knowing Nakrang spoke the truth. The princess residence was impenetrable - one of the few things So was certain of.

“She is already aware of your injury,” Nakrang continues. “After all she arranged it. So now that she knows you are here she is going to think lady Kim is treating you and that I’ve been using my implications merely as means of keeping the fact of your injury a secret. It is truth - but not all there is to it.”

“I pray you are as right as you are confident sister,” he says finally resigned to fate taking its course.

“Oh hush - I mean - pray don’t be so cynical your majesty,” Nakrang says with a wave of her hand. Then her eyes grow serious. “Have I ever failed you before?”

She had not and So knows of it. To admit the truth had Soo ever shared her fears of raising a child in the palace to him he would have sent Seol to Nakrang - willingly. There were only a handful of people he would trust unquestionably.
”Now,” his sister speaks in a hushed tone, hinting at the sudden serious tone of their conversation. “There is something you must know. It’s about Kang Shin’s death.”

**

“It is of no consequence,” Wook cuts her off. “His majesty can take as many women as he wants, that makes no difference to our cause.”

“It delays his death!” Hisses Daemok, her voice a shriveled reminder of her soft tone. “The more talismans he make the longer he puts away his demise.”
”You didn’t tell me that before…” Wook frowns setting down his cup only to catch the fire in his sister’s eyes.

“You?” She hisses. “Where are your manners - brother?” There is an implication behind her words, a thinly veiled threat, something that makes Wook shiver when his eyes meet hers.

“Forgive me,” he bows, hands on the floor. “Your majesty.”

“It was an oversight of me,” she nods. “I never thought the foolish girl would degrade herself so - the pride of Kangs stripped away by a dog…! But she has always found peculiar ways of protecting him - no he must not be given the chance…”

A court lady enters carrying a fresh pot of chamomile tea for the queen and Yeon Hwa bites back her words, instead choosing to hit her forehead with a fist. The lady merely darts a look between the Hwangbo siblings and scatter off as respectfully as she could manage. Wook sighs when the door to the queen’s parlor slides shut.

“Sister,” he says in a tone quite different from the one before. “Have some tea - it will clear your mind.”

“You are still here?” Yeon Hwa asks. “Did I not ask you to get out of my sight?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you were angry and said something you didn’t mean sister,” Wook says smoothly. “How are you feeling now?”

He acts as if their entire conversation from before never occurred, measuring her reaction with careful eyes as he pours her a cup of that pale gold liquid. Yeon Hwa swallows - her lip trembling. There is a lost look in her eyes as she watches her brother.

“What are you doing to me?” Her voice rises an octave as she finally dares to question him. “Orabeoni?”

“Now - now, your majesty -” he is cool - too cool about this. It makes her think that he is playing a move - a move that probably involves pushing her towards the enemy lines. Her brother had always been quite cool about everything that involved danger. There is a pounding in her head - an eerie sort of haze as she thinks back to her conversation with Wook. She couldn’t quite recall what they were discussing. “You are acting quite childishly about this entire thing. It’s natural to be furious - but as a queen you shouldn’t allow other women to make you feel inferior.”

Yeon Hwa frowns but says nothing.

“You are still grieving - still recovering. Don’t let pointless things burden your mind.”

Her brother has never been this caring about her feelings - or matters of the inner palace in general. “I still think it was stupid to send men to the Park Household, even if you did receive information - you were supposed to come to me.”
”Are they my men or yours?”

“Yours of cause - but unless you control them properly they are going to end up being bait for Anjong to fish out our weaknesses,” he explains - rather calmly. “Don’t forget he has the key.”

“What do you think brother?” Yeon Hwa says finally. “You think I’m so naive that I would not cover my tracks? Wait - just wait until he starts fishing - just you wait.”

Notes:

The delay this time was completely unintentional. My computer died on me - leaving me disappointingly mid - chapter. I had absolutely no intentions of splitting this chapter - to the extent that it has the same title. I'm left with no choice on the matter. So will return with Dark Queen - II as soon as circumstances allow - or my PC decides to take pity on me and revive itself.
Do share your thoughts, I'm in need of rainbows in my cloudy sky! :-)
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 42: Dark Queen - II

Summary:

The enemy is no longer a shadow

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Her stomach churns at the scent of blood that lingers despite scrubbing her hands raw. The memories - of gashes bleeding anew - blood that she could hardly stop and his erratic heartbeat against her palm - make bile rise in her throat. In her dreams it still felt distant, a wound without an ache - a dull pain - but in reality the fear  of his death consumes her. She cannot lose him - not without it costing her sanity.

She leaves for she cannot stand the sight, cannot bare it anymore. She flees with the first light. But then her own guilt poisons her slowly. It is her that started this cruel game and made the rules of playing with life but it is him at stake.

Words elusive like sand on an outstretched hand escape her conscious when she tries to gasp them. The pause hangs in the air as she tries to recall the line that comes next - the words that parry away. Seol watches her with wide eyes - hands raised to mimic the bird that she makes with hers - little pink tongue darting out in concentration. The song about a mother bird looking for her nestlings on a hillside belonged to Ha Jin’s time - the memories that she was losing - along with the new memories of Jang Mi that she gains - her eyes prick with acid at the realization - she couldn’t remember the last of the lyrics.

Seol wiggles her pudgy little fingers - tilting her chin and looking up at her questioningly. Her lower lip juts out and her brow furrows - Jang Mi gathers the baby close before she gives into the building aggression and croons the melody her voice breaking with the weight of lost words. She closes her eyes tight, burrowing against her child when she knows that the tears are inevitable.

“I can’t remember what comes next,” she murmurs bitterly. “I’m sorry Seolie - Omma’s sorry!” The tears run hot, unbridled and plenty now that she allows herself to finally feel the agony. “I didn’t mean any of this to happen - I didn’t know it would hurt so much. Omma’s sorry! Even if no one forgives her -”

She thinks of Nakrang’s words - the fragment of their conversation that she had caught unexpectedly.

Nakrang speaks of her father. There is something peculiar about hushed words that begs feet to halt, thoughts to linger and curiosity to stir. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but still she hears the account of her father’s death - of the queen’s blood stained hands.

It seemed like a ritual - she says - there were figures carved on his skin. She is recounting words of a spy who had been captured and tortured by the dowager queen in Jeongju. She says that the man like many has not returned whole from the mines of Ryu. Those were all they could extract from him during his lucid intervals and the rest of the time the man keeps repeating himself - broken words that makes no sense - tiger - flower - phoenix - shadow -

They may seem pointless to Nakrang, the words she hears now. But Jang Mi has heard them before, spoken from the cracked lips of her once companion - the hopeless woman on her deathbed, cheated by her own friend into accepting a stranger’s baby as her own. In the haze of her own turmoil they had meant nothing to her then, but the words had cautioned her of a storm to come.

And blindly - she had left her father to weather it, weak and injured as he was. She left him to pay the price of her choices.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, tasting the salt on her tongue. But she knows of her enemy well, she knows that her mercy too comes at a price. It is just the beginning of her punishment - the casting of her curse.

Seol tries to croon the melody back at her, looking rather pensive for a child - an expression that highlights her likeness to her father - as she tries to understand what makes mother so depressed. She pats Jang Mi’s nose - going almost cross - eyed with focus as she tries to wipe her tears.

“Why do you love me Seol - you shouldn’t,” her eyes burn and the truth pricks. “I’m the woman that cursed you!”

“O - Mi?” Says Seol, tilting her head to the side like a bird. The chuckle that bubbles from her throat in reply is automatic, though dry and bitter. Seol might have caught others calling her name and merged it with the address she had been trying to teach her. Seeing her smile Seol claps her hands shrieking with laughter as she repeats. “Om - Mi!”

“You will have your mother baby,” she mutters into her sweet baby smelling hair, kissing her brow as Seol snuggles closer. “You will have your father too.”

**

Though the fear is old, crinkled and folded at the pit of her heart, it no longer feels hers. Perhaps it is Ha Jin’s courage - a blessing of oblivion, for she knows not the atrocities of the man whose death she had once wished - whose face she had once torn apart. The demon arisen from the ashes of her past to eat at her peace. Song Dal - says the Grand Prince Anjong, accuses her of ordering him to commit regicide. She doesn’t ask him what the emperor thinks about it - doesn’t wonder what the court would feel at the new turn of events.

A consort who could raise the dead - who has the face of emperor’s dead lover. She does not want another to interpret the circumstances.  

Seol had fallen sleep on her bed, a much mused rag-doll clutched under her elbow and mouth hanging open as she drools into the pillow. She takes a moment to brush her hair back and press her mouth to her forehead as she leaves her in the care of lighter, sweeter dreams.

The fur he had once wrapped her in, still settles on her shoulders with a comforting weight. There lingers a faint trace of his scent, of pine and honey that she clutches into, before stepping into the swirling storm outside.

The dungeons are freezing. Flimsy flames from the torches cast no warmth. But she knows the chill curling around her spine comes from the sight before her more than the air around her. When the man stands up his chains clank, his torn lips stretch into the most hideous sneer she had ever seen.

“Rose,” he wheezes, “wearing wolf’s fur.” It seems funny to him that he doubles back to laugh, a dark cackle punctured by wheezing and blood. “Come closer…” He stretches out a bloody hand when she steps away bile rising to her throat once again. “Did I cut your dog for good this time? Did you come to avenge?”

“You speak of the emperor, these words could cost your life -” she tells him and the man laughs harder. “Even if it’s against the rules of war to kill the messenger - you know me Song Dal - I believe it sends the message on its own.”

“But then -” he asks. “Wouldn’t you ask what the message was?” The man waits until she looks into his eyes, the insane gleam of a viper that glitters in his orbs and she finds it hard to breathe, impossible to move as wave after wave of fear douse her in ice. She had been a fool to order away the guards - to give this thing such hold over her. But then, would that not be what her enemy had expected of her.

“Why didn’t you come wearing his blood?” She could see nothing more than the tear that runs the length of his face - the gnarled skin - the ruin. His breath stinks of blood when he moves closer. “He failed you after all. The dog failed to kill me.”

“You were dead!” He would not lie.

“Oh then - you know the message already - love,” he cackles with suppressed, dark amusement. “Who do you think brought me back?” He moves closer, a rough finger smudging blood across her cheek. The scent makes her retch and her teeth sink into her lower lip to keep it in. “Why do you think she wanted to raise the monsters from your past? Perhaps to finish what you failed at - don’t you think - Rose?”

“No!” She hates how broken she sounds.

“And how do you think she brought me back?” His chains brush against her wrists when the man clutches at her hand with the concealed dagger. The one she had been clutching in anticipation of the moment when she would plunge it into him - after extracting her answers. But instead he pulls out her hand, still sneering as he eyes the blade. “Whose body do you think she used?”

“No - no.”
”You and I are quite similar now - Rose - monsters wearing skin of another. And oh how it hurt, when she carved my face - said I should remember why I could never forgive you.”

It seemed like a ritual - Nakrang had said - there were figures carved on his skin.

“Do you still think you’d manage to kill me? Could you bear to commit such a sin?”

She realizes it now - miscalculation she made - what her enemy had predicted a long back. Killing this man would save nothing for he was not the vessel to be destroyed. Wicked he might be but not the root of evil.

Tiger - flower - phoenix - shadow - the queen with blood stained hands…

“Sad you might not see his end,” the man hisses. “For the fool would ruin you before the fate catches up to him. Does he realize what his attempts to save you will result in? I guess not - I guess he trusts the shaman a little too much.”
”Step back!” She barks at him and the torn lips twitch with mirth.

“Or what?”

She clutches at the dagger and presses it against him, until the man hiss out a curse.

“Or I will carve you out of your new shell!”
”Would you?” The man grins but then groans, when a hand grabs him from the lumpy hair and pulls him back.

“If she wouldn’t I will,” So spats eyes burning with undiluted hatred.

**

“Don’t touch me!” She lashes out scathingly before stumbling out into the snow and her stomach churns and turns, nausea finally taking hold of her. She retches unable to hold it anymore and her head feels light. The scent of blood overwhelms her and her skin crawls at the realization that, that man had smudged it on her face - her hands - she feels dirty and she retches again, again and again. Until her knees could no longer keep her steady.

She never falls for he steadies her with one strong arm and his other hand rubs her back. The comfort her body curls into - she struggles to detach herself from it. He doesn’t allow it, clasping her trembling hands in his, he holds her wrapped in him. She inhales the frosty air shakily, willing herself to stop, reproaching herself for being so weak.

“It’s alright,” he mutters when she expects him to admonish her. His touch is cool against her clammy skin, so soothing that her eyes water. So removes the soiled fur and tosses it away. Wrapping an arm around her to keep shield her from the biting cold as her teeth begins to clatter. “Bring water!” he tells someone over her shoulder.

“No!” she pulls away, biting her lip, pushing away at his hands. “Please - don’t!”

She trots forward blindly, shaking, shivering.

He comes after her, long strides quickly catching up the distance she tries to put between them and grabs her elbow, swinging her around.

“What is wrong with you - cousin?” He raises his tone when she continues to struggle. “Stop this at once!” She blinks furiously, clenching her fists, but then - there is no suppressing of the sobs that rock her frame. She clamps a fist against her mouth - pulling away from him, before the tears start to flow. But he tugs at her wrist and she tumbles into his arms effortlessly.

“You are cruel - utterly - ruthless!” she sobs against his shoulder, heat of her tears seeping into layers of his clothing. “How could you treat me like this?”

“Like what?” He watches her with narrowed eyes.

“Like you love me!” Her fist thump against his heart. “When you don’t - when you never have!” His hold slips from around her and she finally pulls herself free successfully and turns away. “Just leave - leave me alone. Isn’t that what your majesty want?Never to see or hear me again - isn’t that what your majesty is hoping to achieve? By chartering your own death?” One way or the other? Her lips tremble as she swallows those words, better unspoken. “I’ll learn to survive on my own means, I’ll - I’ll -”

She sways on her feet, lightheaded and breathless and the snow is soft when she falls to her knees. She cries bitterly, ashamed of herself, flinching when he touches her shoulder.

“Did I ask you to love me?” She demands with bloodshot eyes. “No! Is it so hurtful to bear my love? Am I repulsive to you?”

He cups her face in large, callused hands - resting his forehead against hers, breathing heat into her face.

“You don’t love me - cousin,” he tells her, softly as if she is a petulant child. “You think you do. It’s because of her -”

“No!” She sounds so loud that his eyes widens and his hands drop limply to his sides. “No - my love has nothing to do with her. I’ve loved you before - I’ve loved you longer - I’ve loved you even before you met her!” The words plaguing her could no longer be barred. Hae Soo would hate her for this - she would hate herself - but the words stuck in her throat felt like a poison she could no longer swallow. “I loved you since you saved my life - and I continued to - I couldn’t stop myself - even when I thought you were a monster. I would rather hate myself - but I can’t -”

She inhales shakily and allows herself to falter, collapse against him against all her resolve. “Please don’t die - I beg you - please don’t do this..!” Her vision blurs, shifting in and out of focus. “You are all I have - all I have left.”

His mouth is pressed against her crown and he heaves a breath.

“You will have a son - you won’t be alone.”

“I will lose him,” she mumbles. “I will lose him too.”

“No. No.”

“If you server the ties between us, if you take her soul away - the baby won’t make it. He is a part of both of us, part of the enchantment. That’s how she made the curse.” She looks up at him, eyes beseeching. “Let him live - I’ll leave. I promise - I -” her voice drops as she feels the darkness beckoning. “I’ll leave and let her take my place…when the baby is born…when - I promise…don’t die…don’t die…don’t leave me...!”

Notes:

There are explanations due most of which the next chapter will bring. Again, I'm truly sorry about the long delay. Hopefully it will not happen again.
Do share your thoughts and thank you for reading!

Chapter 43: Styx

Summary:

Truth in various forms.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

That night she drowns in resentment. Resentment aimed towards herself for failing to become the woman he loves, resentment towards that woman for everything she was - that night she drowns in a hell of her own making, of greed, guilt and love - the bitterest of all curses. Just beyond those flames that burn her she knows that the ice of isolation waits - gaping its jaws wide to swallow her whole and not even leave a scream behind.

She wakes up to deep red draperies of Cheondoekjeon and Shin Young peering over her.

“Your grace,” the woman trembles a little as she raises to her feet and does not meet her eye. “It is a relief to see you awake.”

“Why am I here?” She asks tastelessly, squinting her eyes against the brightness of the chamber. Her chest tightens with the untowardness of that place - of all her fears rising in a tide ready to consume her. She had never been fond of the source of all her dark memories.

“His majesty is unwilling to allow you leave his sight,” Shin Young says in a small voice. She pours a cup of steaming tea as she talks. “You’re to drink this your grace - to relieve your nausea.”

She watches how the woman’s hands tremble and shakes her head.

“Take it away!”

“But your grace -”

“Leave us,” the emperor orders as he walks in and Shin Young jumps to her escape behind the imperial entourage that files out, closing the doors behind them.

 “Stay there,” he demands gently when she makes a move to stand up and briefly places a hand on her forehead.

“I shouldn’t be here.” She cannot meet his gaze.

“No,” he agrees. “You shouldn’t.” She fiddles with her thumbs prompting him to take her hand in his. “Neither should you do this to your hands.” He smooths the swollen fingers with a frown. “Baek Ah told me that you stopped my bleeding by acupuncture? With bee stings?”

“It is my duty.” She snatches her hands and turns away. “Allow me to leave - Pyeha, this place suffocates me.”

He says nothing for a moment and she hears his heavy sigh. Turning around she notices how he clenches his fist to physically restrain himself from touching her. She reaches out instead with trembling fingers that swathe themselves around his fist. He doesn’t look at her and in his pained look she reads it all - the deaths that he relive, of his father, of his brothers - men who were always more than family. The silence hanging around them is suddenly heavy with a past neither of them wants to word - this was the place she left him - once, forever.

“You are not obliged to love me,” with her words she sets him free for the shadows in his eyes crashes against her windpipe. “I have no illusions of -”He cuts her off by pulling her into his arms, burring himself in the crook of her neck, a hug so tight that it breaks her heart.

“You can’t mend me by breaking yourself,” he tells her. “Stop this madness.”

“I don’t wish to mend you,” she confesses holding him tight. “I - I just don’t want to be left behind. You must hate to look at me and be reminded of who I am not - what I have done - I can understand - and it terrifies me!” He pulls back and looks at her. It hurts to hold that gaze but she looks into his eyes. “I realized it too late - the piece of my heart that I gave you cannot be given to anyone else, again. It’s not your fault that you are not mine - or that I am yours. I will continue to break myself - because it’s the only way I know how to love. I - ” she swallows. “I’ve was never taught to love softly. All I know is that if I love something I should die to keep it alive.”

She breaks off when she feels lightheaded, unwilling to be sick in front of him again. He picks up the cup Shin Young had poured earlier and holds it out to her. She shakes her head weakly, but he grabs her shoulder.

“Drink.” Against her lips edge of the cup presses insistently. She shivers at the warmth of steam that fans her face and the strong scent of ginger curls into her senses. “Drink.” She presses her mouth shut and attempts to move away. “It helps, drink!”

 

His fingers curl under her chin and raises her head, causing her to lean back on his shoulder. The first sip of heat chases away the lingering nausea and her eyelids flutter close. The tea is thick with honey and spiced with ginger.

So sighs in relief allowing himself a little reprieve. But then her grip tightens on his arm. Alarmed, he meets her teary gaze.

 

“Why?” She asks her lips trembling. Her fingers dig into his flesh and her eyes brim over for a moment as she holds his gaze her breath hitches. “Why?” She repeats roughly.

He doesn’t understand but moves unconsciously to hold her when her upright position falters and the tea cup clutters on the floor before breaking into pieces. ‘Why-?” She cries, eyes blurry. He tries to sooth her, caressing her face and fresh tears blot into his palm. “I trusted you -” her voice breaks. “You poisoned me?”

“Wh - at - No!” He reels with shock and a streak of blood trickles down her nose. Those teary eyes slide off focus.

“Fine - ” she croaks. She had craved for love all her existence and had learned to lick it off knife edges. Her grip on him falters and her exhale is broken. Perhaps even the scraps are denied to monsters who wear skin of others. The poison is cleverly disguised behind the lingering sweetness of honey and the sharp sting of ginger - a faint bitterness of over - ripe oranges that lingers along with devastating acidity of betrayal.

“Jang Mi - ah!” He could have taken her life with those words only, she thinks as she sinks. Her name on his lips along makes her heart falter.

“You are all I have left,” she doesn’t mean to say that, but the words escape on their own, heavily laced with a longing that words cannot express. “I’m too tired.” It unburdens her to let those words go and she sinks further. “Of waiting - hurting - chasing - I can’t fight you too. If this is what you want - I’ll go. I just wanted a few months but if you can’t bear me for that long-”

His voice is distorted and ringing that it makes her flinch. He is calling someone - or perhaps shaking her. She is not sure for she cannot feel his touch anymore. All she feels is ice - ice that engulfs her.

“I’ll go with my baby…my …”

The bottom is closer now and she cannot drown anymore. The heartbeat that pounds against her must be his - for it is steady, unlike her faltering heart - and loud - too loud. Why would he hold her so close, she thinks as her thoughts blur, if he wanted her gone? Why would he shake so much, why was he shouting? Doubt flickers into existence and keeps her adrift. Her grip on him anchors her to a spinning world and she inhales his scent - of pine and snow - he reminds her of a home far away and burrowed memories - old promises.

**

She sifts back and forth like a feather, a slow meaningless movement in the vast stillness. Somewhere in between Jang Mi and Ha Jin - being and non being. She knows death - has tasted it before. This - is not death. It is not sleep either. Then words filter in - words from another world.

“The surgery was successful. Vitals are okay.”

“Then why isn’t she waking up?”

“Sometimes the body puts itself into sleep - to heal itself. She has to wake up on her own.”

The words take time to settle into her conscious and then she recalls that memory.

“Is it a curse?” She recalls her own despair. “I didn’t have an ailing heart before. Has it followed me from Goryeo?”

“It’s called domino effect - things you changed in the past - changes your present.”

“So will I end up returning after all?” Her tone is wistful, full of longing. She almost dares the answer.

“You cannot return - that body was burned.” The weight crushing her heart does not ease. It hurts - like a raw wound - to think that she left him to a long lonely life - she wants to return.

“So will I die again? Without ever finding him?”

“Careful -” the voice warns. “Careful what you wish for.”

The memory dissolves and she is sifting back and forth once more. It takes her by surprise for she had hoped to leave her body for Ha Jin, but she is Ha Jin - she is also Jang Mi - in that vast stillness she remains both. Her longing for him also remains, a burning ache of its own. It burns in the pit of her lungs growing until she is burning everywhere - burning with a need to breathe and she gasps - the world begins to spin again.

**

Shin Young coughs up blood and lady Noh steps back. Despite pain there is no remorse in the eyes that meet hers.

“I did it for a reason,” the shaman repeats for the umpteenth time, unapologetic and headstrong. “It is a lesson her grace must learn.”

So tries to catch his breath and rein in his tempter. He cannot for the life of him forget the look she gave him, laced with heartbreaking betrayal. I trusted you - you poisoned me?

The words eat away at him slowly, like a particularly dark insanity. He had killed her again - and this time held her in his arms as life seeped out of her. He made her drink it - with his own hands. Insisted - forced - killed her!

“Hyung - nim,” Baek Ah reaches and gently touches his arm, bringing his attention to his clenched fist, where his nails had drawn blood. “Please - ”

He wants to have that woman killed, mutilated - tortured - caused ten folds the pain she had caused her and made him suffer. But he cannot find the words to order any of it. Instead he swallows the bile that rises at the thought. It is the dowager queen of Ryu - the hand behind her puppets. And he had unwillingly become one of her puppets for a devastating moment.
He turns away instead leaving Baek Ah to deal with the traitor, preferring the agonizing company of his cruel thoughts instead.

It is no longer an uncertainty. He would not survive losing her twice.

**

She wakes up in fear - listening desperately to the silence that presses her from all sides, wishing with all her soul that she had not ended up returning to Ha Jin’s world. She wakes up to lady Noh wiping her face.

“Your garce!” The old lady exclaims. “Oh heavens have blessed us!”

“My baby?” She croaks, her throat parched. Lady Noh helps her to sip water and pats her hair. “All is well, your grace.”

She sits upright and looks at lady Noh.

“Is Shin Young alive?” The old woman nods with a slight frown. “I wish to see her - I need to see her now.”

The shaman is bruised but unbroken - her gaze still haughty with power.

“Your grace,” she says roughly. “Thank you for saving this lowly servant’s life.”

“Why did you do that - Shin Young?” The shaman trembles and collapses on her knees, for a flickering moment she pities the young woman but then something hardens inside her. “You poisoned me!”

“I had no other way to open your eyes to the truth you were unseeing - your grace. The truth of your own soul.”

“That I can no longer break free from Ha Jin?” She chooses her words carefully, testing the waters.

“No,” Shin Young shakes her head. “Have you realized why the summoning did not work as it was supposed to? Whoever performed that curse did not intend you to remain in your body - they were misinformed as to lady Hae’s feelings for the emperor and wished to use her resentment against him. You were to vanish.”

“Like Song Dal’s new body?” The realization shakes her a little - of how close she had come to death, since then.

“It is all connected - why lady Hae could not live long - why the summoning went wrong - have you realized that now - your grace?”

“Do you know why?”

“You should ask the right question to get the right answer - your grace.”

There is a pause and the shaman waits with a look of consideration.

“It was you -” she says slowly. “The woman I was talking to in the other world - the woman who told me to be careful of what I wish for. It was you! Are you like Ji Mong? You said then that I cannot return - but I did - didn’t I?”

“I thought Hae Soo was your past self - your grace, I was wrong.”

“Why?”

“Until we met again it made no sense to me. But it does now. I wanted you to recall those conversations so that we could begin from where we left off. Your heart -”

“Why I died back then - but his majesty believes I was poisoned.”

“You were - but that’s how time works. It lines up circumstances to get the result it wants. You died because you couldn’t live. You couldn’t live because your soul was already living somewhere else in the same time line. Your death was time’s way of readjusting itself. That is why the illness followed you to your original world. So if you need to survive there - you have to rectify what went wrong here.”

“What went wrong here - my soul was already living somewhere else? Where? Who?”

“Kang Jang Mi.”

“No. It cannot be.”

“Hae Soo was an ancestor of Go Ha Jin, hence she had her face. But she was already dead by the time you took over her body - like Song Dal - you had complete control over that body which had no soul of its own. It is never necessary that a reincarnation has the same face or the same nature. That dead Hae Soo had never been Go Ha Jin. That is why summoning did not kill you - it cannot - for it summoned your own soul from future into your body. That is why no matter how much I try I cannot break the two of you apart - you are but past and future variations of the same soul.”

Notes:

Styx - the river that surrounds the underworld in Greek Mythology.
That my dear fellows was the treat for 5K views! It's amazing how the milestone came just as we reached this point of the story - the grand reveal of truth! :-) All because of you lovely people, who remained with me so far! BIG HUG!!
Oh - I had two versions of this chapter written. But this is the logic I had planned since beginning, if you do a careful read, from the second chapter itself you will find hints. :-) So now that we are here - and Jang Mi is Ha Jin thousand years later - I guess things have started to get interesting.
Do share your thoughts and thank you for reading!

Chapter 44: Last Enemy

Summary:

There is an enemy within him that he feeds with his fears.

Notes:

Dark themes - take caution in reading.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The flickering candles toss shadows against the walls and the silence is punctured only by her laboured breathing. He remains by her side, his eyes remain on her face. One of her pale hands lies inches away from his fingers - but for all the longing lumping up against his throat he cannot bring himself to touch her.

I trusted you - you poisoned me.

A darkness barely held at bay returns after so many years, bringing at tow shadows of bitter memories. Monster! Shrieks a recollection of his mother, the dagger that she carved his face with still clutched in her hand - dripping blood into a pool at her feet. Monster - you stink of blood! He flinches at the memory of her hand reaching out for him at the last moment like a claw of pent up resentment.

Hyohwa is grinning waving his fist at the world in general unaware that the morsel he slurps thoughtfully could be his last. He too had trusted - reached out for his father.

I trusted you…

He finds it hard to breathe.

Orabeoni - says a bony girl, her feet hanging from a cliff, the world burning below. I don’t want to be a PatPat.

You poisoned me…

There is a lock of escaped hair lying on her forehead. His fingers itch to push it back, linger in a faint touch on her skin. Instead he bites back the scream building up in his throat.

You poisoned me!

The fact that you are a good person is all that matters to me - said the woman he gave his heart to, but now, in the darkness that is heavy with every felony he ever committed So doesn’t feel like that man anymore - the man she fell in love with. And the darkness inches a step closer - or perhaps it is a dozen steps, for he feels the frost creeping over him - of fear, guilt and bitterness. He could drown in the blood he had spilled. He doesn’t deserve to touch her with hands stained of blood.

I trusted you. She no longer trusts him. She thinks he is capable of poisoning her.

He had lost her right then.

“Pyeha,” the physician bows low and hurries away, he barely hears the man’s words - excuses probably - as to why he couldn’t bring back the poisoned lady. He waits for the doors to close.

“Chun?”

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Shadow him. If he makes one suspicious move you are allowed to terminate him.” He ponders and adds. “And anyone else to whom he reveals any detail of tonight’s events. Whoever they are.”

If Chun was surprised he does a good job of hiding it behind a carefully neutral expression as he bows and retreats to carry out the imperial command.

There - he thinks. I’m the kind of man who would kill to keep a secret.

There is nothing new in that. He had done it once for his mother - he could do it again for her. Though neither of them would reward him for the blood spilled for them. Behind his eyes squeezed shut he conjures an image of a grieving Soo - She was like a little sister to me - you murdered her! To keep her safe - to keep her by his side. But she had not understood it wasn’t his greed but his fear of losing her. She had not understood him.

Monster! His mother returns.

“Son?” The icy hand on his shoulder brushes against his neck and makes him jolt out of his cruel reminisces. He turns and flinches at the sight. By his side sits his adoptive mother - the concubine Kang. She smiles at him, eyes crinkling into half moons of pleasure and blood red lips stretching wide. That icy hand cups and strokes his cheek. “My beautiful boy…!”
He dared those rare moments the most during the initial years at Shinju. When the insane concubine would mistake him for the son she lost and shower her affections on him. Those fleeting moments of adoring were often followed by blistering agony - isolation and hunger - as they left him locked in a freezing dungeon to bleed out after her beating.

He tries to ward off her caresses but her grip tightens on him like a claw.  

“You will do.” She says, approvingly. There is a wicked joy flickering in her eyes. “Finally you are weak enough - had I known earlier…” her voice trails off. “Instead of breaking your bones I’d have broken your heart. Instead of snatching everything I’d have given you something precious - to cherish and then mourn.”

He remembers the moment their eyes met and the inky blackness of her irises began to pour - she smiles wide again and ice creeps across his skin. She rises slowly greedy eyes fixed on Jang Mi - pale fingers stretching towards her.

“Don’t touch her!” His voice comes out in a gasp and she pauses.

“You’ve lost her,” she hisses. “She will never come back.”

“No - stay away.”

“But I came to take her - take her I will,” she tells him. “See how her heart falters - she shouldn’t have given it to a beast in the first place. Pity I couldn’t control her - pity she shares my blood.”

“You can’t take her - don’t take her.” His throat dries up and his voice dies.

“Then?” She turns to him with a crooked smile. “What do you offer in exchange?”

He cannot reply nor pull away his eyes from her darkness. Her mouth twists with a wicked pleasure.

“How can I deny you?” she coos, icy hands returning to cup his face. “My darling boy…”And she presses her lips to his forehead. The world falls away.

**

Ground is a block of ice that makes his bones rattle with cold and his skin burns. The blazing agony is the first and only thing that he registers as he blinks stupidly and the blurry colors of the world rearranges themselves into reflections in a pool of red. The edges of the pool is already freezing and somewhere in the night beyond the vision of his swollen eyes a drum beats ominously.

So clenches and unclenches his fingers, trying to open his mouth, lift himself up, all the movements but the first is denied to him and instead replaced with pain - the only surviving sensation. He is yet to forget the burning arrows his lady mother had set upon him a fortnight ago, but the fear is nothing in front of what he feels now.

The kick on his ribs turning him over feels like poking a burning torch into his gut and the foot unapologetic and cruel crushes against a broken bone.

“Barely alive,” comments a man. He knows that man - Song Dal - he might have been fifteen or sixteen. At first he reminded So of his older brother Mu, but then there was none of the kindness of his brother in this young soldier, who was a distant relative of Mu through his mother’s side as he learned later.  

“Perfect,” replies a woman. Her voice is sweet and wispy, dripping like overheated syrup. “Just the way I want.”

The drumbeat - louder now - pounds against his ears and he sees her. His new mother - the lady Kang. She wears a heavy cloak of dark fur and her hands are drenched in blood. Her pale skin shimmers in the darkness and she mutters incoherent words, hisses them as she approaches him. Kneeling, she peers down at him and brushes his blood drenched hair away from his face.

“Does it hurt?” She asks sweetly, in a concerned tone of a mother just as her fingers sink into his flesh - nails digging. His mouth opens in agony but no sound escapes him. “My beautiful boy…” she coos sounding so genuinely affectionate that his eyes water. She had been so good to him the entire day - they had gone out riding, tended the horses. She had fed him with her hands, from her own bowl - kissed him, telling him how wonderful a boy he was. She had sounded just like she does now - her eyes full of mirth, her smile warm.

“You are my son - aren’t you?” She asks him, still beaming. “You look just like me… But then, do you know what she says? The queen?” Her tone drops an octave - personal - conspiratorial. “ She calls me a demon - that makes you one too!”

Song Dal is back with a dagger. Lady Kang reaches out for it her eyes still fixed upon him.

“No!” He finally manages to gasp.

“No?” She asks him. “You are not my son?” Her brows frown. “But my lord husband says you are. He says I’ve never lost a child. Do you think he lies?”

“Omma -”

The dagger draws a line across his chest, cutting through skin - a path of blood.

“Heo - my Heo -” she mutters. “Come back to me. Come back to Omma. Heo - my Heo - my darling boy!” The pain blinds him and his eye lids feel heavy. “Keep him awake!” Lady Kang orders Song Dal. “He should feel everything, only then Heo can return.” And she begins to sing. Her voice is sweet, so are her words. She sings of mountains and wind, of their people. He could have fallen asleep if her blade had not been carving his skin all the while. He screams, throat burning and lungs protesting for air - he withers in agony.

“Why is it not working?” She screeches, frustrated. “Why isn’t Heo coming to Omma?”

She slaps him into wakefulness and he splatters blood. It feels so painful that he would rather curl up and moan. But instead he finds himself immobile and her eyes darker than the night bores into him.

“It was for you they killed my Heo -” she says venomously. “Die! DIE! DIE!” “

**

Nakrang’s firstborn is named after the brother she lost. Jang Mi finds it endearing that little lord Kim Eun shares a vast similarity with the uncle he’s never met. He is soon turning six he tells her and has out grown hugs and kisses. He sits by her side dutifully and shows her all the hand - puppets he owns, and the toy boats and his new slingshot.

“For my next birthday I’m getting a horse,” he blubbers excitedly.

“A pony,” corrects his mother. “And I have not approved of that yet -”

“Imperial uncle promised me!” Little Eun pouts. “Omoni has to listen to him - right?”

“Only if Eunie remains a good brother to Seok and Geon,” Nakrang says pointedly. “Lady Kim -” she turns to Jang Mi. “Good brothers aren’t supposed to - say - pray the deity to take away the annoying dumplings as soon as possible - right?”

Jang Mi hides a smile behind her teacup.

“Of cause not,” she says seriously as the boy turns a darker shade of red.

“I didn’t!” He protests only half heartedly. “court lady Im lies! I just prayed the deity gives me a sister next time.”

“I’m sure she misunderstood Lord Eun,” Jang Mi says promptly. “It’s not like he doesn’t want siblings. Now see how caring he is towards Seolie -”

And Seol takes that precise moment to behead one of the rag - dolls that came out of Eun’s toy box. She does it with a wicked laugh to match, her eyes narrowing as she waits the older boy to complain. Eun bites the inside of his cheek.

“Of cause lady Kim,” he says, fists clenched. “Seolie is - so - lovable -” However he shuts the toy chest quickly when Seol reaches out to grab another doll. The several play dates during the week she had been put to strict rest had taught Jang Mi and Nakrang that Eun and Seol were fated enemies rather than siblings. They had a penchant to rail each other up - to demolish the other’s belongings and cause general chaos. Seok and Geon the twins had a neutral relationship with Seol - being both four years old they found it more interesting to wrestle each other than to engage in propaganda with a baby.

Jang Mi was thankful for the distraction the children provided - with their never ending misadventures. For it kept the melancholy at bay. Since gaining consciousness the emperor had not visited her once. And Nakrang hoovered over her like an overgrown motherhen, making sure she remained within the princess residence, within her room, within the confines of protection. It seemed as if she was being deliberately distanced from matters of court and Nakrtang would not even mention her imperial brother unless one of the children lets slip his name.

The oblivion bothered her. Jang Mi did not enjoy being ignorant or left out. Not when she felt it in her bones that something was terribly wrong.

“Is his majesty healing well?” She had insisted once and Nakrang had smiled at her.

“You’ve done a very good job tending to his wounds, of cause he is healing well.”

Then why wouldn’t he come to see me? She swallows without asking. Who tends to his wounds now? Is he angry over what I said then? Has he not forgiven me yet? Has he forgotten about me?

“Ommi!” Seol screeches, tugging at her sleeve and breaking her train of thoughts. She is looking at Eun with narrowed slits of eyes that reminds her of the emperor - “bad - bad!” she says.

Eun smiles at her rather innocently.

“I didn’t do anything - lady Kim.”

But she never hears the end of that excuse for somebody barges in that very moment.

“Lady Kang - please! You have to intervene - please - save my brother!”

The frantic woman that rushes in is princess Gyeonhwa, her face tear strained and her once elegant hair wild. The girl reaches for her hands as Jang Mi jumps to her feet.

“Lady Kang I beg of you!”

“Lady Kim is indisposed Gyeonhwa - this is none of her concern -”

“He will kill them - please lady Aunt - lady Kang -”

“I don’t understand,” Jang Mi says slowly.

“It is no matter -” Nakrang tries to intervene, but something about Gyeonhwa’s white complexion bothers Jang Mi.

“Please…” The girl cries. “Please stop his majesty.”

“GyeonHwa,” Nakrang tries again, reaching out for the girl. “Let’s have this conversation elsewhere.”

“No!” Jang Mi’s hand tightens on Gyeonhwa’s arm. “What is it that you are not telling me? Princess Gyeonhwa - what is bothering you?”

“His majesty has ordered the execution of my brother!”

“He has not!” Nakrang interjects. “The boys are sentenced to house arrest and it has been done to get them out of the influence of their maternal clans. Both your brother and the son of the previous king are too young to be political figureheads.”

“Please lady Kang,” Gyeonhwa ignores Nakrang, turning her bloodshot eyes instead upon Jang Mi. “They say you’ve been poisoned by Im clan people - they say its a conspiracy to bring my brother to power. Whatever conspiracy there is - I swear on my life my brother is no part of it, lady Kang. He is just a child - just twelve.”

“Nobody’s going to execute him - Gyeonhwa!”

“Imperial uncle is going to execute him!”

“That’s not true -”

“Your highness - your grace -” Chun stands at the threshold, head bowed and hand clutched on the hilt of his sword. Only his heavy breathing indicates that he had came running after Gyeonhwa from wherever she started her protest. “The princess speaks the truth - an imperial command has indeed been issued.”

Jang Mi stumbles a step backwards, her heart sinking. So ordered the death of a child? Her So? No - that cannot be.

“Where is his majesty now?” She asks, her own voice surprises her by its steadiness. But no one answers. “Grand Princess? Lord Park?” With each word she speaks her heart is sinking. “What are you hiding from me?”

“He is ill - Jang Mi - ya.” Nakrang says hesitantly.

“Ill - how? Why? What is wrong with him?”

“I don’t know - we were ordered not to let you know.”

“Lord Park?”

Chun doesn’t raise his head to meet her eyes. She approaches him instead determined.

“What - is - wrong - with - my - lord - husband?”

“He’s not been himself since your poisoning - your grace,” Chun says slowly. “Do not misunderstand me - I’ve known his majesty half my life. He’s always been ruthless - but now - there is a darkness and he is losing himself. I’m afraid - I’m afraid I can no longer find the man I’ve pledged my blade to.”

“He reminds me of my father,” Gyeonhwa says in a small voice. “It scares me.”

“No!” Jang Mi speaks up almost instinctively. She knows what Gyeonhwa is thinking, but she refuses to relate So with the paranoid king Mu had become. The thought in itself is unbearable. “No!”

“If this command goes through,” Chun interrupts. “His soul would find no salvation.”

Notes:

I know Nakrang's children has prince titles - but for the purpose of this story I imagined their titles would be given to them when they are older. Now they are younger and unburdened with responsibilities as well as titles. Therefore they remain lords, instead of princes. (She really has a son named Eun :-) )
This is again a chapter that I've split in two - second part titled - song of lyre, would be posted as soon as I'm done with it.
Do share your thoughts. They inspire and speed up the writing process.

Chapter 45: Song of lyre

Summary:

She is the only thing that reaches to him in the darkness.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She knows where the shifting stone is. It is effortless to stuck her small arm in and feel for the rough edge - the carefully carved railing for the stone to slide through. It does so without a glitch, without much noise.

“Orabeoni!”

Her voice sound apprehensive and even the whisper cannot keep away the hesitant quality to her tone. Like Sun Young said, she’s mad even to think up a plan like this - but then, he had saved her life - she was indebted to him. Debt was not a good place to be in and Jang Mi took charity from no one.

No reply comes from the dark dungeon beyond. The girl waits for a moment more weighing between pride and fear before shuffling herself into the narrow passageway that had opened up. If it happens to be the last supper - she will feed her ego.

It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness she stumbles in to. Instead her senses are flooded with the stench of blood and hair rise in ripples across her arms at the sudden blast of freezing wind.

“Orabenoi?” She sounds barely convinced now, trembling half from cold. Still there is no reply. “Ora -”

The sight of him brings no relief. Only she finds out from where that strong stench of blood comes from. He is shackled to the wall - those heavy chains that they should be using on murderers weighing him down. He looks asleep leaning his head against the wall behind him. From where she stands - on the opposite end of the narrow cell, she could hear his breathing. At last they hadn’t managed to kill him. They could barely contain him - she thinks sarcastically. Her foolish step brothers trying to carry favour with their lord father. The heavy chains were the only thing keeping them safe.

The thought for some reason delights her as she approaches him. He is like a mountain lion - something wild that cannot be tamed. That is only hunted because the hunter fears being his prey. Those wild predators were the prideful sort. She had seen them during her father’s hunting trips. They would stand upright until the last deadly blow - would claw and bite and kill until there is no breath left in their bodies to carry on. They don’t whine in pain - only growl - the passion for life burning bright in their amber eyes. She had always wanted to touch one - no matter how dangerous brother Seo Kyeong thought it was - there is a strange pull in that danger.

Her hand was inches from his hair matted with blood when his eyes snapped open. She stilled suddenly caught in that predator thrall. It is that eye behind the mask - as dark as the wood around it that you’d barely see it is there - that made her uneasy, fidgety on her feet.

“What do you want?” He asks roughly.

“I brought food,” she told him self - righteously, inching closer.

“Get out!”

For all the scratches and chills she sustained! Jang Mi feels like throwing her hands in the air and screaming. Does he think it’s easy to steal food from the hunting feast? Ungrateful man! No wonder her lady aunt calls him a beast -

She does not get time to complete that thought for he doubles back coughing - splattering blood at her feet. She jumps back involuntarily and he ignores her in favour of catching a wheezing gasp of breath. She reaches out and pats his back hesitantly.

“There - there.” A mountain lion indeed.

He turns to look at her so fast that she is certain he would have cracked his neck. It is a strange look that he fixes upon her. It leaves her breathless still - the unguarded vulnerability filling his eyes. He is not used to touches that don’t seek to cut, bruise or break a bone.  

“Have some water.”

She is half resigned to the fact that he would throw away and destroy the earthen flask - that when he sulks and allows her to bring it to his lips the surprise along makes her hand tremble and the water to spill everywhere.

“No need of a bath - thank you very much!” He says tastelessly, but a corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly and she heaves a breath of relief.

“I guess that’s why prisons don’t provide with looking - glasses, it keeps your confidence in tact,” she replies. He doesn’t answer, barely lifts a shoulder shrugging off her words. The pause that stretches on is hardly an uncomfortable one. Jang Mi is used to ignore and be ignored - for the Kangs barely had a significant thing to share with her.

“It’s amusing,” he says after a while. “That they believe I would tell you anything.”

She stares at him dumbly before making sense of the accusation.

“It is amusing,” she replies, trying to mask how hurt she felt behind dry humour. “That I’d have to squeeze through that damn trapdoor if I’m here for ulterior motives.” She shows him the scrapped elbow for good measure. “I don’t care where they went - the slaves. I don’t give two hoots if you killed them all. Rice - cakes?”

He looks at her outstretched hand as if she was offering him someone’s head - stares at it for a while before reaching out with a bloodied hand to pick it up. She turns away giving him privacy to gobble up the delicacy. His abrupt words almost catches her off guard.

“I didn’t kill them.”

“Of cause, I mean what use would they be to anyone - dead?”

He doesn’t answer that. Doesn’t need to, she watches him wipe his mouth after swallowing a mouthful of cakes.

“But why did you do that?” She is curious. “Help them escape I mean?”

“If you need chains to control a man that means you have no power over them.”

“Oh?” That is new, a concept unheard of. Jang Mi frowns. “Then what do you need?”

“Loyalty - debt.”

“Like hunting hawks!” Understanding dawns upon her. “They answer the call of the man who set them free - as long as they live. That’s how you train them.” He watches her with an intrigued expression, but doesn’t bother to reply. “Orabeoni?” She continues with a frown. “Are you building an army?”

“I’m trying to survive. The wolves I cannot kill - I’m learning to tame them.”

**

“The thread that ties you to him is red,” her lady aunt says when she learns of her insubordinate actions later. Wiping the blood that trickle down from the corner of her mouth with a lazy flick of her thumb. As if she had not been the woman to slap and draw that blood in the first place. She had earned the blow by sneaking into the dungeons and Jang Mi had never regretted her actions in the true sense.

“Red like the blood it would spill - blood that stain both your souls. Red like the fire of underworld - destruction, curse - red like that. Stay away from him Rose - he’ll leave you bleeding.”

It is one thing that her lady aunt did not understand - some people are born to bleed and some people are worth bleeding for. Worth crossing time and space - worth every cut, bruise and pain. It’s been a while since she had let her senses guide her somewhere - the stench of blood - the resentment in the air. The tension and fear is palpable and she hears the clanking of blades when her own footsteps pause. The last time she had searched for him so, he had been chained in a dungeon and she a ten years old. Even then she had not doubted her instinct and she was certain now - the emperor is inside.

Unease stirs within her. There are no guards or the imperial retinue in sight. It is not the arena of princes - a vast, open space that is - but a den of prison guards. A dingy, sweaty, circular training room where the men brushed up on their sword - skills. The door opens as she approaches and a man supporting another heavily bleeding companion proceeds outside. They pause when they come to confront her and she dismisses them with a nod, removing the cloak that hides her in the night as she stretches out a hand to demand the injured man’s blade.

“My lady - ladyship -” the man is confused. She doesn’t have time for him.

“Get the others out and bar the door after me!”

“My lady it’s not the place for a -”

Her eyes are cold, daring the man to complete his sentence. He swallows instead.

“You would not enjoy it if I pull rank on you - soldier. Do it and do it fast if you value the lives of your comrades.”

The man bows and complies quietly. They could barely stand a minute against the whirlwind of swordplay unleashed upon them that he needs no second invitation to evacuate.

She stands at the door a moment longer, simply watching him fight the last man - a predator thrall filling her. There is a raw power in his movements, a grace of a killer. It takes her only a moment to realize that he intends to kill - but in a cruel sort of way - the death would not come clean and quick. That was not his method - So she knew - took no pleasure in killing.

Therefore instead of the unfortunate man she takes his blade - when it comes smashing in a curve - with her own. The force almost throws her backwards, but she holds her ground - lungs burning with the effort.

“Leave!” She tells the man barely sparing a glance at him and when he scatters away splattering blood, returns all her focus to their locked blades - now perilously close to her throat.

“How dare you -” he hisses spitefully, “issue commands in my presence?”

His eyes are bloodshot and burning with a barely contained fire. They narrow at her dangerously as he realizes that the force controlling the blades are no longer his. She stares at him, at those rage filled eyes willing to see a trace of the man she had come to save instead of the monster that replaces him. A growl of annoyance escapes him. “Lower your eyes! I am your monarch!”

“No. You are not him.”

Jang Mi winces as her wrist bears the shift in force - the sudden jolt of pain providing him with the diversion that he seeks. He pushes her backwards freeing his blade. It throws her against one of the rough stone walls.

“Ah!” Her head bumps on the stone and she scrapes her palm trying to cushion the blow. But she spins away just in time for the next attack and his sword bangs against the stone.

“I will cut off the head that does not bow down to me!”

She jumps back from the blade he is swinging wildly and retains her balance to block the next blow - clank! - meets the blades and the force of the strike vibrates along her bones.

“So!” He is deaf to her call and she has to spin, duck and jump to avoid his strikes. Her lungs burn with effort and she is unwilling to hurt him - choosing instead to defend. He takes advantage of that - his muscle memory of using the blade merging with the pure fury that seems to fill him - makes him invincible.

“So - listen to me!”

He is too fast for her to defend let alone attack and her arm begins to ache with effort. She had not been afraid before - just concerned, but now - seeing the murderous rage that emits from him, she tastes it on her breath - fear. A delay of split second costs her a cut across the arm and his eyes glint maliciously. He advances forward as she tries to catch her breath.

“Bow! Beg!” He tells her wickedly. “Beg for your life.”

She hates how well the enemy wears his skin, reduces him to a slave of their resentment. She hates how helpless it makes her, unable to save him or hurt him - trapped between heart and brain, right and wrong. It makes her furious that she cannot reach him - that he cannot hear her - that her love cannot penetrate his darkness.

“I will not bow to a sheep wearing wolf - skin!” She spats anger burning her.

It had been a foolish thing to do.

She parries away but his footwork is superior to hers. He makes her stumble forward and hits her sword arm with the hilt of his blade - the sword leaves her hand like a spinning projectile cast off into the darkness. His arm wraps around her, pulling her against him - his blade pressed against her throat.

Closer now - she notices that he is drenched in blood - it trickles down his face, along his throat - seeping through his cloths. His hair undone hangs around his face in strands clamped together with blood and sweat. The cold blade presses closer but her eyes never weavers from his. He growls deep in his throat, a feral display of teeth pulling at his lips and the blade spins in his hand, dripping with blood.

“Came to hunt me - did you?” He pauses watching her with narrowed eyes. “Rose?” That one whispered word confirms all her worst fears and it runs down her spine like ice - brushing goosebumps against her skin. He spins her around - her back to his front - the blade still held against her throat. “The sheep that stole your wolf?” He whispers in her ear.

“All those years…all that pain are lost on you - my Rose, have you learned nothing? Have you ever won against me? Why try now? Why block my path when I’m so close to my goal?” Blood starts to bead along the line of the blade, the sting makes her wince. “Did I not tell you - the dog will make you bleed. Have you seen enough now - of how lowly he is - how despicable…how easily corrupted?”

“And how despicable are you - who wants another’s body to reach your goal?” She replies slowly. “How lowly - to need my lord husband to hide behind so that I wouldn’t weed you out. Have you thought of that - my lady aunt?”

He turns her around roughly - slamming her against her wall.

“You bloody - !” But then he smirks, watching the blood that now soaks the front of her collar. “Words cannot stall death - Rose, how amusing it is that the man you pinned for all your life - whose heart you could never attain even in exchange of all of you - will cut your throat. Do you think his heart will break for you? Do you think he’ll regret it later -? Will he mourn you my insignificant Rose?”

She touches upon her insecurity, the ghost that keeps her awake at night. Will he mourn her - or Soo? Will he ever see anything past the face of his first love. The blade presses closer and she looks up at him - his face blurring as her eyes fill up. Insignificant Rose - the words hurt far more than the blade. But then his hand quivers slightly. And that minute falter is the last straw she holds on to as she reaches out and grabs the hand dangling by his side, resting it flat on her stomach.

“Lord husband?” she calls. He tries to pull free, a struggle that she doesn’t allow. The blade cuts deeper - her skin stings as if there are flames licking her. “Pyeha! So!” Insignificant Rose - will he mourn you?

Wangjanim?” Her voice is soft, filled with defeat. He pauses, frozen, looking at her like a confused animal. She inhales a ragged breath full of melancholy before reaching out to him. Maybe it is the only thing that Jang Mi shares with Ha Jin - apart from their soul - the heart that has always been his - for thousand years. She learns it in a cruel way, trying to hold his crumbling pieces together - the difference it makes to him. Ha Jin made him the man she fell in love with - her loss would make him a beast she cannot bring back. Jang Mi might be his queen - but never the kingmaker, or his person. And her heart breaks a little. His breath - heavy and warm - fans against her in torrents. Fingers of her free hand slide into his hair, palm lying against his feverish cheek. Carefully she calls him again. “Wangjanim.”

He burrows into her touch unconsciously, a low growl escaping his throat. “My prince,” she says again. “You are not a beast, not the blood thirsty animal she thinks you are. Don’t let her make you one - fight it - fight her. Come back to me. Come back - love.” His eyes widens - breath quickens - his grip on her falters.

“I’m scared - Wangjanim, am I losing you again?” Her words fill with greed as the sword clatters on the ground. She pulls him closer, cradling his face. He exhales loudly and dips his forehead to rest against hers, her fingers lock in his hair as she breathes him in. “Wangjanim - wangjanim -”

And the doors are thrown open.
”Well - well - well - what a pleasant surprise!”

There stands queen Daemok, in all her regal glory, long sleeves of red folded against her chest as she stares at them with a smile sharp as a blade.

“This isn’t quite how I imagined we’d meet - consort Kang.”

Notes:

Hmm...things have turned darker, but also clearer I presume?
Do share your thoughts and inspire me to rise out of my boredom. :-)
Stay safe wherever you are! :-):-)

Chapter 46: Tear

Summary:

The fate starts to tear at its weakest points.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

An hour is all Chun promises. It is nearing sunrise; the black of the night growing paler and paler into hues of blue. Soon the sky would streak with silver and the night would hide them no more. Baek Ah rubs the neck of his restless mount, trying to ease the animal where he cannot ease himself. An hour would get them nowhere.

He would be deceiving himself if he thinks that he could flee from an imperial command - that would be foolish. No - there was nowhere under the heavens to hide if the emperor wanted you to be found. There was nowhere he could hide consort Kang anymore. What he could do instead was to prevent such command from being issued.

He tries to swallow a lump in his throat, work his mind around the fear pulsing at the center of all his thoughts but instead he ends up thinking about Seo Nui and her parchment like face under a large woven straw hat.

“Run away?” She mouths, slowly blinking away the residual shock. Her fist clenches into a blood - less grip and he wonders for a moment if she still harbors any hope of being rescued by her former husband. “Why?” Her voice then is shrill and loud, wavering. “Why are you sending me away?”

He hates to admit it - speak aloud the words. It was one of those superstitious beliefs of his long gone maternal grandmother - who had always warned him not to speak of his worst fears out loud - god forbid some wicked spirit heard and turned them true. But - he must give her the answer she waits for.

“I’m afraid the imperial favor has shifted,” he tells her shortly, ambiguously. It was better than admitting I think my brother is losing his mind. “Unless you want to be found and - confronted - by Hwangbo forces you will find it in your interest to seek sanctuary with princess Gyeonhwagun at her monastery.”

She doesn’t move and she looks as if somebody had doused her with ice water.

“The eighth prince has the favor of his majesty?”

“Gonjunim,” irritation makes him flare. “Do you want to die?” He could have been patient with her had the time been more lenient with him. An hour - he thinks helplessly - is not enough to change a love lorn heart. “If not - I think it’s time to make a move.”

He doesn’t wait to see if she considers the offer - instead turns around and reaches for the reins of his own horse. There are other matters waiting for him to attend. The horse sniffs at the air and jerks its head back, as if the unrest comes from its inhale. The thick air, cold and tainted with hints of storm soothes it only a little. He does not expect her to call after him.

“Will you not come with me?”

“I need to enter the palace,” he replies petting the horse on its nose absentmindedly. Her shadow, lengthened by the flickering light of the lamp the servant carries, falls over him.

“You will come back” she utters stiffly. “You will - right?” And then unexpectedly she lets go of the emotions she holds back from coloring her tone - the hesitant fear, a lingering doubt and something peculiar and untasted. Baek Ah turns the memory of that voice in his head, as if tasting those particular words again - slowly, unsure whether he wanted to think of Seo Nui at all. Or if he wanted her to think of him.

She hadn’t actually expressed her concern for him or wished for his safe return. For all he knew it could be her own selfish need to stay safe and protected. But - he tastes those words again - unknowingly - in that moment, just before they went their separate ways and her shadow caressing him reaching across the distance she did not cross - something had shifted, stirred and settled.

“I will,” he had told her. “I will come back.”

**

Fire does not intimidate her for it always managed to chase the danger away. But water - with its unknown dark depths ready to swallow her - drown her and twist her world… Water did unsettle her. The man she wanted to save was fire and the man that stood in front of her then, was the water that threatened to drown them both. She could see it in his eyes, the twisted soul that lied within, with its depths where no light could shine. Wang Wook unsettled her.

The shift of tide had settled well with him. Or perhaps it was the taste of success after so long that had rejuvenated him. Under the harsh torches of the bureau of justice he still looked gaunt and pale - but his eyes had a shimmer that the shadows underneath them could not hide. He was here to gloat - she would not give him the satisfaction to find himself on the wrong side of the balance of justice.

But it was hard not to think a particular thought. The uncanny resemblance of the situation. Do you remember - she thinks as she looks at him - it was this same place, you promised to save me - once. And I believed you would - and I waited. Waited and waited. And you never came.

She understands it now - it might be an ingrained shortcoming of her soul, to trust this man and to be betrayed by him. Perhaps he was the whetstone meant to sharpen her and their collision a fated one. Ignorantly she always thought he was the savior when he was the weight dragging her down. The water - she thinks - that drowns her. 

The longer he stands there and watches her the longer the unease stirs. It feels like an exaggerated moment before the blades clash in battle.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says in the end and his eyes crinkle in disappointment. “You are foolish than I thought.”

The juvenile desire to irk him keeps her from replying. Instead she watches how he shifts with unconscious discomfort, not quite meeting her eyes - not quite addressing the real reason that brought him here. The contradiction that he enjoys her misery and cannot stand it at the same moment makes her lips curl mockingly - the man was far too twisted that his own heart and brain was at logger - heads with each other.

“Is this an interrogation your highness? If so what is it that you plan to extract from me?” - she squares her shoulders and raises her chin - neither the Hae Soo he disappointed or the Jang Mi he betrayed, someone who was better than both - better than him. If he waits for her to speak up first she would enjoy tormenting him with the heavy silence between them. If it is weakness that he waits to see - or sorrow, he would get neither. “I must implore you to speak directly, no matter how much it entertains to meet up like this I’d rather not extend our conversation.” A muscle twitches at his jaw and his lips purse.

“Do you realize it now?” His voice is softer. “That you made the wrong choice?”

Oh he might have been dying to tell those words - for years perhaps. She wonders if he had had her resurrected for it - so that he could drag her through as a mute spectator of the decadency of the man she loved. Then to ask that question, bask in her regret. Do you realize you’ve made the wrong choice?

None of them suited the throne - no matter what star they had!”

The fragment of the conversation from so long ago is hazy, but it fills her with an intense sense of bitterness. Was that what Shin Young meant when she said things had gone wrong the first time she had meddled with time. Was it her words that had started to poison him. “I made a puppet of the king of your choosing! The very people that chose him will chase him away soon.” His eyes lit with malice and satisfaction bores into hers.

“And it pleases you?”

“Yes,” he agrees. “I didn’t know it first but it pleases me to see that look in your eyes. I’ve looked at you like that once and I’ve wished if you could feel what I did. Now that you can no longer save him - now that he is lost to you - I see it in your eyes. Yes! It pleases me!”

“What makes you think I’ve lost him?”

“You have,” he replies with conviction. “Why else would you end up here? Why else wouldn’t he save you?”

“Have you always saved those you claim to love, your highness?”

The air stills as if her words had summoned the winter inside and he sucks in a breath that seems to swell within him with unspoken words. His own words turned on him make his eyes flash with annoyance.

“You’ve always been like this,” he tells her thoughtfully. “Unwilling to accept defeat. You don’t see your own weakness. It is to trust be it another or your own means. You thought power would be enough to take a slave out of the master’s shadow. Shin Young had always been Dowager Queen Jeon Deok’s person. She might have helped you now and then - but always took care not to spoil her master’s bigger picture. Your near death was the opening we wanted. And now you have no means of rescuing your king.”

“And you enlightened me - why?”

“There is still time,” he tells her, his voice an echo of his once pronounced kindness. “I still believe you are not responsible for the choices made by her.”

“Her?”

Wook reaches out with an impatient hand to tuck away a strand of her hair. The brushing of his fingers along her cheekbone makes her shudder.

“Kang Jang Mi,” he whispers. “Her malice has made you suffer Soo - ya. Her wickedness has tainted you. You could simply be free of her and the charges she brings with her name. Let her go and I will help you go away from all this. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“You are right,” she says now. It makes his lips twitch and curl ever so slightly for a moment he looks like the Wook from so long ago who had extended his hand in friendship to an outsider. “I did make several wrong choices before.”

“Soo - yah...”

“And the gravest was that I believed you deserved to be forgiven.” He freezes for a fragment of a moment and then the malice reignites in his eyes. It indeed makes her wince but she bears the burnt of that gaze. “For some people mercy is to be punished.”

Wook opens his mouth but the words never come, instead the silence is drowned by another voice - louder and closer.

“Cousin?”

Wook turns slowly from her to Baek Ah who comes with guards behind him. For a moment it seems that the grand prince had not noticed the presence of his brother for instead he admonishes the guards.

“On whose authority did you apprehend her?”
”That would be the queen’s,” Wook replies him instead. “Consort Kang is a person of interest.”

Baek Ah has the nerve to look blissfully ignorant.

“Consort Kang? What might she be doing here - when she is detained with the shadow forces?”

“Really now brother -” Wook rubs the bridge of his nose apprehensively. “Would you still play that card when she stands here in front of you?”

“What do you mean to say brother…” His voice remains smooth and he casts a sidelong glance towards her as he advances forward. “This is not consort Kang - this is my cousin lady Kim from princess Nakrang’s household.”

“Baek Ah!” Wook says irritated. “Lying to me is lying to her majesty the queen. Both you and I know who this is -”

“Yes, it is my lady cousin. Do you need witnesses called - eighth brother? Or would you prefer the portrait of consort Kang that had accompanied the marriage proposal to the emperor be brought over? Ah - what am I even suggesting you were engaged to the lady yourself! How could you possibly forget her face!”

“Oh - I did not know,” Wook bares his teeth in a grimace. “You are such a smooth talker. For your information brother everybody knows the lady Kang has taken the face of late lady Hae with her witchcraft.”

“You mean everybody who believes the rumour. It has not been proven that she has any supernatural power and that makes me wonder brother - you nor your imperial sister having ever seen consort Kang after the alleged ritual how did you find out what she looks like? What should I make of it - that you’ve known her after the act of treason or that you sat a spy on his majesty’s woman?”

Wook’s mouth twitches.

“This is consort Kang - she has admitted it herself.”

“I have not,” Jang Mi chooses the moment to reply. “When have I?”

“There we have it,” Baek Ah says as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “I could call a number of witnesses to establish her Identity - let me see your own proof brother.”

“Fine,” Wook bites out. “Have it your way. What was your cousin doing pointing a sword to his majesty?”

“I believe my cousin had no idea it was his majesty,” Baek Ah says smoothly. “She is but a sheltered woman who has entered the palace for the first time. Who would think that his imperial majesty would be found on the training grounds of guards with no imperial retinue or guards of his own? Now that I think of it - that is highly unlikely to happen. Who do you think ordered them to disperse brother? Shall we investigate that?”

Wook shifts uncomfortably. Thinking whether or not he should share the tad bit Yeon Hwa got from Nakrang about lady Kim treating the emperor. Looking at the way Baek Ah spun the story on his feet he would come up with a cover story for that as well. Least of all he did not want Nakrang or her husband being brought up. It was the most bothersome thing at the moment. If Yeon Hwa had a point of argument she would have to place it herself. Her words as the queen held more weight than his. After all sunrise was less than an hour away. There was nowhere to run.

Watching him reach the conclusion Baek Ah smiles satisfactorily. “Release her!” He orders the guards.

Notes:

Delay is due to bad network :-) still I'm sorry to have kept you waiting!
This is half chapter and I will post the rest later. Having reached 2.5 K I've decided to leave the rest for the next time. :-)

Chapter 47: Dance of devils

Summary:

Monsters become bane of those who made them.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She refuses to acknowledge it, the moment he steps back. His eyes that had been vulnerably open, shaken a moment before closes behind a veil of iron. Clenching his jaw he turns away. Then there is Yeon Hwa, the woman she had never wasted a second thought on suddenly standing between them, standing above her, as his queen - his wife. Upon her face is a hideous smile of victory.

The memory flickers then, slightly hazy under the weight of her bleary vision. But she recognizes the wrenching agony in her heart, the devastating sense of losing him. It had been so long ago that she had forgotten her first act of defiance against her aunt. By the time the wooden bars whine and close behind her, the recollection is vivid. She could feel the roughly carved edges of the dagger hilt clasped in her clammy palm and her hands starts to tremble. She flinches inwardly at the feeling of thick, sticky blood running down her arms, dripping from her hands and bile rise in her throat.

“No,” she mutters to herself. “I didn’t do it! I didn’t!”

It keeps her rooted with her reality. She hadn’t followed the wishes of her aunt. She hadn’t carved out his heart. She could have - at that point, the craft her aunt used to teach had never felt like a dance of death. She was too young to understand life, let along play with death and her aunt - perhaps her aunt wanted just that.

With a shudder she thinks of the boy - bloody and beaten - with an inch from life. He had been older - bigger than her and so very beautiful - it was heart breaking how broken he looked. Her eyes had blurred then - there was no sense of power that her lady aunt promised.

“Strike him!” Lady aunt hisses in her ear. “One strike - right at the heart, you must do this for me - my Rose, you will do this for me!”

It is the last chance, she had heard them before. The last chance to do something that her aunt wanted. It was also her last chance to prove herself to her aunt, to end the cycle of suffering. Last chance…

Her hand shakes. Last - end - one strike - she hasn’t moved. All she could see is him - the boy who carried her on his back when he could have easily left her as a bait to the wolves that chased them - just because she called him orabeoni…  

His entire body shudders at the effect of the next exhale and somebody pushes her closer. She had not been expecting that shove and it throws her off balance. She falls on her knees beside him, the stench of blood makes her retch.

Sleep - she wishes staring at him intently. It will be over soon. Up closer she could see just how much they had ruined him and her heart bleeds anew. You saved my life - I’m about to take yours. Please don’t open your eyes - don’t - she wishes then, raising the dagger. She had come to warn him - of the wolves of her step brothers. But she instead would end up being the danger she sought to avert. Her aunt - she had not anticipated that her aunt would be the power behind her foolish half brothers. Forgive me - but I must live. I must do this to live! But still she hasn’t moved. A gong sounds somewhere - a signal of the gates being opened. Her father was returning. But they were too far away. Her aunt was closer. She reaches out and places a palm over his heart - where she is supposed to strike. The thump of life makes her shudder. Life - she owes him hers. This is not to be. Not even for survival. Edges of the hilt cutting the flesh of her own palm and the blood - heat - and life of hers drips and drains and joins his own. There - her breath shudders, with anticipation of just what she was about to do - you own my life now - if you go, I follow.

The first circle she ever casts - she casts it that night, on a whim - on a surge of emotion. The burst of power throws her aunt back, strikes across three of her half brothers. The burst of light blinds her, makes her mind blank. She sways on her feet staring numbly as the first flames starts to lick at her feet, spreading outwards, seeking out her foes.

The fragile thread that linked her to her aunt snaps that night, when she all but burns the woman’s last hope of succeeding. She doesn’t know it then, but the power that surges through her untamed, unspoiled, untainted - makes the woman afraid. She had never since allowed her to cast a circle - to learn the craft. Instead she withdraws from her care, hands her over to Ah Ri - to make a lady out of the brat. It was a decade later that she thinks again of the taste of raw power she had that night, thinks of using her niece in a charm once more. But then she makes sure to poison her heart first, to steal what she holds dear and bore a hole into her soul before she allows herself to trust in the girl and use her for a summoning.

But the girl the high of her first circle wearing off and the edges of her vision softening knows nothing of that to come. The fire thins and coils into smokes when she could no longer stand. When she does fall and fall upon him, she notices that his eyes are open.

“Wolves,” she mutters with effort. “Wolves - are - coming!”

When she wakes up, PatPat is burning and she finds herself on the highest cliff as the world below tumbles into flames.

It makes sense now. The memory - what she knew and what she didn’t. The power - hums in her veins. It was no gift only her aunt had possessed. It was in their blood and part of their soul. Perhaps it was what Shin Young had meant when she said she had to see it herself. She had to find her own answers. Perhaps that was how she had undone the bounds of time and crossed back and forth - always finding him, shielding him.

They had accused her of what she had not done. What more can they do if she truly does what she could?
She thinks as Hae Soo and knows that she would still do it. Finally that point of merging had come. Now - they would make the same choice.

She casts the circle with her blood - tearing open the skin of her finger - her hand shakes but no matter how hard her aunt had tried she had never forgotten what she had once learned. Giving up had been a choice - embracing another. She might never be a queen now - but she would still save everything that matters to her. The throne had never been the objective. Her children are. Her emperor is.

She draws it on the dirty ground, freezing cold - each sigil carefully thought out. She blocks, she weakens and she calls.

When Wook comes to see her she wonders for a moment if she had made a mistake and unease boils as she stands on the circle she had cast, waiting - waiting - as the twisted man tries to twist her with his oiled words she waits.

And as her energy drains away, the bitterness brews - finally - finally - Baek Ah arrives. She holds the circle until Wook leaves, until the guards are gone and she could no longer hear their footfall. By then she is swaying - her vision lined with darkness.

Baek Ah rubs his forehead with a hand, an incredulous look on his face.

“We don’t have long,” he tells her briskly, “I don’t know how long it will hold him off - I don’t know why he didn’t argue back in the first place - it’s crazy - I -” he draws pale. “You’re bleeding!” He holds her when she looses her balance and she allows him. The last of her energy is draining away. He reminds her of Seo Kyung, secure, soild and brotherly. Trust - she thinks. I can trust you.

“Soo - yah? What did you do?”

“Obfuscation,” her voice is faint - already dying away. “Cursed him for a little while so he cannot think - cannot come up with something to stop us.” She feels him stiffening, the rigid unease that her words bring. “You don’t have to save me,” she says, intending to cut him off whatever misplaced sense of loyalty binds him to her. She must save him where she failed Seo Kyung. “I’ve already lost him - I care for nothing now. I will save my children on my own.”

If I cannot save him - we will go together…

He lifts her and carried her out, uncaring, his jaw sat in a hard line.

“Can you ride?” He asks stiffly, brows frowned.

“Baek Ah nim -”

“My brother will not survive losing you again and he will not forgive himself if he ends up hurting you. Therefore witch or not you are coming with me.” She sighs.

“But -”

“Now!”

**

A fog of yesterday, thick and murky surrounds him as he lies bloodied and broken. Somewhere deep in the thicket of memories - a wolf howls and his heart thuds painfully. He could still hear the summoning chants of the crazy concubine Kang. They rise and fall in rhythm with his pulse - a beating drum beneath his skin.

The sense of failure to have fallen prey to her insanity or the cruelty of the Kangs rise up his throat like bile. A little more power - he thinks savagely - he would have them by their throat.

It had been going on for a while - the diabolical planning. The power - he learns - lies in people. So he begins to gather them - people - who were no longer loyal to a master who had forsaken them to hunger or winter. He makes them his. The clan leader would not realize it - the little strikes that he ignored as isolated acts of rebellion - one after the other they had started to wear at the walls they keep him in. They had begun to crack.

Breath wheezes inside his burning lungs. He holds it in with the blazing greed to live. This was the last time - he decides - the last time he allows this to happen. If he survives the night he would kill them all. No more torture - no more torment - no more Kangs. He would kill them all - every single one of his tormentors.

Then he feels it. The touch of a soft palm pressing down on his heart. He knows that hand. He knows that touch. He pauses as the cloud of agony clears, the blazing rage subsides and he rearranges his thought. Perhaps not all of the Kangs.

A spark of recognition tears through the fog and explodes like a star. He knows that touch - had known it all his life. The whirling world around him slows down and ceases to throb as his thoughts come to a standstill. He knows that hand. It wasn’t a soft, supple hand of a lady. Instead the tips of her fingers were hardened like an archer, bow - cut hands, he thinks absentmindedly. But then again in another phase where she had never touched a bow - those hands were dried and cracked by hard labour. And he had called her beautiful.

“Wangjanim,” he hears her distantly as the fog begins to clear and the realization dawns upon him. The palm that pressed down on his heart - the hand that touched his face - those beautiful hands - and the fingers now entwined with his - It wasn’t the hand - he realizes. It was the touch. The way she touches him - then and now - those seeking fingers hesitant yet curious. She touches with right, with belonging like he was hers. Then - now - or thousand years later. The same hand - same touch - same woman.

“Am I losing you again?”

He loses the grip on the sword but cares only a little for the clutter it makes on the floor. Instead he rests against her - alive! - and  allowing her fingers to cradle his face, burrowing into her touch he breathes her in, the faint wafts of peony and melting snow. Peace - he thinks - home. The blazing rage subsides into a ball of agony deep down his heart - a darkness that tastes bitter a hollow that pulses.

But then she is no longer there and the hands that steady him when he stumbles sink into his flesh like claws. The hollow grows and the darkness once contained creeps out in wispy tendrils.

He had lost her - hurt her - chased her away. And she left - finally realizing what kind of a monster he was. Gone - she was gone.

The loneliness comes in waves - drowning him again and again. But the fog is torn and he sees it for what it is. The thoughts that are not his own. The bitterness that twists around his soul is not his own. He recalls her words. You are not a beast, not the blood thirsty animal she thinks you are. She - her - he knows who that is. The bitterness churns converting itself into a sharp edge of its own, to sink deeper into him. Finally he recognizes that blazing resentment. Come back - love.

He blinks slowly, trying to suppress the pain and Yeon Hwa is fawning over him. Her eyes glitter in a smug victory that he loathes. You brought her. He thinks.

“Your majesty is hurt,” she fusses. “She deserves to die - oh, it’s bleeding -” he winces at the touch of the wet cloth that she presses to the cut, smoothing a hand down his arm comfortingly. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to gather his thoughts - crush the ball of agony inside him deeper - deeper - down. He cannot remember how he reached his chambers, or why Yeon Hwa thinks she could embrace him so freely. But - his head starts to throb at the thought - he could make an intellectual guess.

You are despicable, he thinks eyeing her - to call yourself a queen. She had let down her hair, her robes barely more than a gossamer layer - one of her hands trail along his nape, fingers threading into his hair.

“Pyeha,” she simpers, cheeks hollowing with pleasure. “It breaks my heart to see you so.” Those claw like hands draw him closer and he feels smothered. She must not realize. He thinks, swallowing the urge to wring her neck. She must not realize that strings of hers control me no more. Let me see Daemok - how much further will you stoop, how far will you go?

So instead he nuzzles her neck and feels her shudder in response. Oh - is that what I’m supposed to do? Bile rises in his throat, a loathing that is directed at himself. Do you think I’d play into your dirty hands - again? Abruptly he thinks of the child they made together, the first and last link that bound him to her. That sweet child - she pretended to mourn. The flimsy thread of sympathy that he had regarded her with dissolves as the understanding dawns. He was but a step stone for her. If he was no more - she would create another. She touches him with purpose laced affection. That is also a touch he knows. A woman who had once called herself his mother had almost carved out his heart luring him with a touch of that sort. Her mouth warm and wet presses against the column of his throat and her breath stirs in a sigh of delight when he swallows.Not tonight - he promises himself - you will not play me tonight. I’ve learned this game of yours very well.

He threads a hand through her hair and pulls her back, the arch of her throat bared. She hums in pleasure as his mouth descends upon her flushed skin. He had never kissed her before, she had never expected him to. But now that he was but her puppet, she could relish such fantasies. There is a wicked tilt to his mouth that stirs a thrill of foreboding along her spine. A puppet - she reminds herself - my puppet - finally - utterly mine… The rough hand that runs along her spine melts away the lingering doubt, in its place shivers of mindless pleasure runs along her skin. Lost in her own heady sense of victory she does not register it when his knuckle presses into a certain point below her nape. When she tumbles back into the soft bedding the taste of accomplishment is still sharp in her tongue. She raises a hand to pull him over her - as her mind draws blank and darkness draws from the corners of her vision.

Candles have burned out. She thinks absentmindedly, feverish with desire. Candles - candles…

So pulls back as soon as her eyes flutter and close. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand thinking that he couldn’t possibly bear to watch her a moment longer. But no, he couldn’t move - not yet - not like this. It had taken them an elaborate scheme to hunt him down. It would take him another to annihilate them. He had been too trusting, too sympathetic. He would not be - anymore. Instead he would be the very monster they wanted to make of him. Rubbing a hand over his face he tries to calm down his erratic heart. It had been a scheme from the moment they poisoned her. But now - now that he had their trump card, he could see a lot of things he hadn’t before. So this was how Wook managed to create his doppelgnger story.

He feels the darkness trying to stir within him as the fury boils. No - he grits his teeth. Now that you’ve decided to come to me - I will not let you go - he thinks. I am the master of this game now. I make the rules. And I will ruin you all.

That - he thinks with a sinking heart - would be his duty and his doom. A penance self imposed. He would be the king that rules them all, the king they fear, the king that ends their reign. The last king they would ever see, the absolute monarch.

Notes:

With that ends another part of the larger picture. Now we are officially on the final scratch of this long journey.
I will return as soon as possible. Thank you for reading! Do share your thoughts and inspire me to write faster ;-)
Stay safe!

Chapter 48: Errand

Summary:

The edict cannot be recalled - but fate might be averted.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The edict cannot be recalled. 

Wind slaps against him, harsh and unforgiving in mid - winter frost. Bitterness - helplessness - guilt - coils inside him - tighter and tighter. He had sworn once to shed the shackles and the words he had spoken then mocks him pricking into their deepest corners of his conscience. 

The edict cannot be recalled. 

It will reveal his turn of heart. 

Even a long after he had ridden himself of Eun’s blood - the weight of each droplet, each streak had remained a burden on his soul. As if the blood had been drawn from his own skin - as if their marks had been branded on him. Look - they seemed to say - this is the dog that killed its brother! And he thought the throne would change things - the power would change his fate. Instead he went on to fashion himself a gilded cage - an ornate blade to behead him with. 

His own edict will stain his hands with blood.

The stallion leaps across a stream - neighing - restless with the darkness that presses it from every side. It is not his own - he cannot risk such an exposure - and the unfamiliarity only increases its discomfort. So pulls at his hood and presses the animal for more speed - the anonymity and the night is not eternal. He has but a little while to take the children to safety before the morning of their execution dawns. He must return before the retinue keeping night vigil finds out the emperor is gone.  

Spies - he thinks to himself. Hounds keeping watch. 

He cannot recall sending Chun away, but among the unfamiliar faces he had not spotted him - or any of his other shadows. Wook has been meticulous about every detail. To reassign his retinue - to surround him with spies. He turns the thought over in his head. A demoted prince could hardly manage it on his own - there has to be others - people of means inside his court - who had helped him with this endeavor.With time and patience he would meet them all.  

The edict cannot be recalled. 

Or they would find out .

The edict cannot be recalled - but perhaps the execution can be averted. 

And he has the entire night on his hand. So makes a command for the stallion from the back of his throat as he pulls at the reigns. He shall not have any more blood on his hands. A dead woman could not defeat him. 

The forest thins ahead and he spies the fires burning. The disposed princes had been kept at an interrogation house by the borders of the capital. All the better he had thought back then, saddling the horse, it meant he did not have to take the extra effort of passing through the city gates. 

So pulls his stallion into a canter and halts in the shadows. The interrogation house is lit in a way that does not suit the hour. He frowns to himself and leaves the horse by the last patch of forest. He cannot risk discovery due to the stupidity of an animal. Dying leaves under a thin layer of snow threaten to expose his soundless feet. Swallowing a silent oath he makes his way to the forest line, cloaked in night and shadows.

From there taking the cover of the undergrowth, he watches. The weight of weapons slinging across his shoulders, strapped into his thighs and tucked into his boots bring a long forgotten comfort. He is no longer the emperor - that facade has already been stolen by something sinister - but this - is what he had been forged into. Not a king - not a prince - but the royal errand boy. He exhales through his mouth and crouches low. If blood is to be spilled - he’d rather spill it for a good cause. 

And the cause was there. 

The main entrance is guarded by four men - armed and alert. Yet their weary eyes tell him the change of shift is close by. He creeps closer as a door somewhere cracks and men - several of them - march down to the open ground. They carry more torches - more arms and the one in the middle is unmistakably an executioner. 

What in the name of heavens…

The captain of guard, unfolds a scroll - the closest he could manage to reach without blowing his cover does not offer a very coherent reading of the contents. 

“Orders from the prince - urgent - before dawn -” are the words that he makes out. The executioner is nodding, flexing his arms. Another set of soldiers drag the two boys down the steps. The younger one is pale - green in the face - in the torchlight he trembles and falters. The older one is oddly rigid as he helps his cousin back to his feet even with bounded hands. There is a stubborn glitter to his eyes for a boy of early teens. A glint that is hauntingly similar to his father. 

He does not have all the time he thought he did. So re-evaluates and takes a deep breath. Perhaps, he need not be as stealthy as he had originally planned. If Wook has issued secret orders to the guard, it is not only So who has something to hide at this place. He might as well use it to his advantage. 

Instead of the main gate that he has been spying on before, So doubles back and approaches the interrogation house from the back. The two guards are easily taken - without much of a struggle or noise. He clicks his tongue, wiping the bloodied blade clean on his trousers as he slips inside. 

A diversion was all that he needed and since young his favourite diversion had been - fire.

**

“We can’t leave.” Her voice is too cold for it to be a request. It causes Baek Ah to pause involuntarily. His eyes dart towards her, noting with sinking spirit the determined tilt to her chin, the glint in her eyes. “Those children will die tonight - Baek Ah - nim, if we leave they will die.”

He allows the hopelessness to darken his features, allows his shoulders to hunch. 

“There is nothing we can do - lady Kang!”

She had not been waiting for his pronouncement of inability, instead swinging herself astride the mount he had brought for her, she reaches for the bunch of arrows. 

“No!”

“I can’t force you to follow - Baek Ah - nim, but I will not have this on my conscience - neither would I allow it on his.”

“Lady Kang -” He reaches out and grabs the reins of the horse not allowing her to leave. “The emperor is - he isn’t -”

“Himself,” she supplies him with the word he searches for. “I know.” There is a burden on her words - a silence that trails after heavy with unspoken words. She reaches for his hands on the reins and holds them in a show of solidarity. “Have faith in me - Baek Ah - nim, all is not lost…yet.”
He sighs, unable to meet the hope in her eyes. Stepping away, determined to follow her he hopes that it doesn’t result in a heartbreak for her again. Baek Ah has made his peace with bitterness, so much so that he found it frightful to be hopeful. Losses - he has learned - are inevitable. 

He holds her back again, this time blocking her path with his own stallion. 

“Half an hour -” he tells her hurriedly. “That’s all we have.”

She nods in understanding with her eyes snapping towards the east sky where the black was fading into the deepest, coolest of blues. Then they begin to ride, towards the trouble they should have been escaping from. 

**

Gyeonhwa stares at the pieces of broken porcelain with wide eyes. Her fingers tremble slightly. She had never - ever in her life behaved so brashly. But then, of cause she was no nun, there was no reason to keep her fury so restrained. She clenches her fists and looks up defiantly at the man standing at the threshold, blocking her path. 

He remains stoic, utterly unmoved. 

She marches up at him, shoulders squared. 

“Lord Park!”

“Yes, your highness -” he bows and makes the entirely polite gesture look irksome somehow. 

“Move!”

“I will not. Forgive me your highness.”

She grits her teeth trying to swallow the murderous fury that bubbles up inside her. Instead she tries to move past him, pushing him away from the door. He seizes her by the elbow and pulls her back. 

“Let go of me - you brute!” She struggles, violently banging her fists against him. “Let go of me! I will - I will have you flogged for this!” The words escape her mouth in a rush of fury and drowns in a silence. It takes her a moment to realize that he had released his grip on her and her hands remain half raised - frozen in the mid movement of attack. “Lord Park - I - I did not mean it.”

He bows - rigid, cold and indifferent as he always was. His eyes are cold. Suddenly, she realizes that it had always bothered her - how he never met her eye. 

“By all means,” he says. “Kill me.” His eyes snap and hold her for one fleeting moment. “But I will not let you leave - now.”

“My brother will die.” Tears prick her eyes and the knot in her throat makes it hard to swallow. “Lord Park...”

“You can’t save him,” he snaps back and swallows before adding. “Your highness.”

Gyeonhwa sighs, the strength that she held into suddenly failing her. He was right. She was neither a fighter - nor a good rider. She was of no help to anyone. She had only been a failure - to her father and now to her brother. “If anyone can save him,” Chun continues bluntly. “It’s consort Kang - and she will not rest until it is done.”

“Let me step out,” she tells him slowly, hanging her head. “No - I don’t mean to meddle in things I cannot help with. I just -” she looks for the word, rubbing her throat. “It’s stifling in here. You may accompany me.”

He watches her for a moment as if searching for any sign of scheming. Gyeonhwa keeps her face blank. With a sigh he steps away, opening the door for her. When she walks past him, he follows silently, a ready hand on the hilt of his sword. 

The silence falls over them and she searches for the stars her lord father used to love. The night is cloudy, stripped of fate in its skies. 

“Do you think of me as a brat - Lord Park?” She asks him in a small voice. The young man had been her guard, shadow and companion often enough to post the question. They weren’t friends - he had no misplaced sense of loyalty towards her. “Aren’t I difficult to be deal with at times?”

“I think you are brave - your highness,” Chun tells her in his customary monotone.

“Brave?” She laughs drily. “Was that supposed to be a joke - lord Park?”

“No.”

“Then you must explain - why you have such a peculiar notion about me.”

“You’ve been constant,” he says slowly. Turning, she notices that his brows frown, as he searches for proper words. That expression of concentration makes him comical, against her will she feels the warmth spreading through the hollow of grief inside her. “Against so many tides of change - drastic - life changing ones - it takes a lot of courage to be constant - and not to lose yourself.”

“You must be the only person crazy enough to be glad that I did not become a nun despite living in a monastery for so long,” she shakes her head. “If that’s what you meant by constant - it is also being aimless - indecisive. There are better ways to be brave.”

Chun swallows whatever the reply he had and looks away. Gyeonhwa turns away from him, hugging her arms to herself as she stares up at the starless sky. She misses the way his eyes seeks her out, hesitantly but with a longing that she fails to read. Chun swallows again wiling that thought away. It’s foolish, he advises himself. More foolish than anything he had ever done in his life. But he thinks to himself how beautiful she is.

The thought is immediately shattered when she turns to him with a gasp - in the horizon a dark rider is galloping towards them - a blotch against the hair of silver dawn lazily etching across the sky. 

** 

The woods are full of smoke. It stings in their eyes, burns in their lungs. Jang Mi pulls her mount to a halt and Baek Ah follows behind her. The night is no longer dark - instead full of blurred glimpses of reds through the trees. 

“No,” she mutters to herself and the horse rears at the force she pulls its reins with. They chase the smoke back to its source and arrives upon the site of destruction - of fire - of blood and death. 

“Lady Kang!”

Devastation - it throbs along her pulse, like tears she cannot shed. Jang Mi lets out a strangled scream before falling to her knees, hands blindly fisting the dirt. Failure - was a sense she had never dealt with well. It wells up inside her and bubbles out of her lips. Too late - too weak - useless!

Her eyes take the surrounding despite the smoke and the flames - the interrogation house is gone along with its occupants. Jang Mi inhales a burning breath. It was not the first time she had came across this method of doing away with the evidence. With Hae Soo’s eyes she thinks of all the assassins silenced in a snowy forest one new- year night. Killed to pull the veil over the crime they were hired to commit. 

It was no different. The execution was not supposed to happen now - in the secret of the night. But she could see the blood, see the preparation that remains of the execution to happen. The guards that carried out the order has been terminated along with it. 

Baek Ah returns to her side, extinguishing the flames that were licking the edges of an unfolded scroll. His eyes rimmed red and his mouth pressed into a taut line when she looks up at him. 

“They’ve been ordered to carry out the execution at night.”

“Wook -” Jang Mi tells him, gritting her teeth. “He must have realized we will come here.”

“His fortress is always made of bones of innocent,” Baek Ah unleashes his fury on the parchment, crumpling it in his fist before throwing it to the still dancing flames. He reaches out to help her back to her feet. “We must leave - lady Kang.”

They pause mid conversation listening. There is a sound of hooves in the air, the clanking of metal. Though they don’t share, the thought occurs to them simultaneously. Guards!

Those men that surrounds them come from the palace and they bear the emperor’s . insignia. Baek Ah shifts slightly, standing between her and the spear - wielding man who dismounts pompously. 

“Grand Prince Anjong,” the captain of guard bows slightly. “I bring an imperial summon - your highness.”

“I will come -” he says thickly. “There is no need for guardsmen to escort me.”

The captain bows again, a muscle at his eyebrow twitching uncomfortably and Jang Mi places a hand on Baek Ah’s shoulder. He is taut like a bow drawn - the tension she feels beneath her palm saddens her. He turns slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m afraid your highness misunderstood me,” says the captain of guard. “The imperial summon is for lady Kim...”

She had seen it before, the sedan they carry behind the rank of soldiers. Wook - she thinks bitterly - would not be defeated by the same trick twice. 

“...to enter the palace.”

Notes:

Sorry for the delay. This isolation thing has cut down my efficiency drastically. I'm highly motivated to do nothing most of the time! :-P
Do share your thoughts and let me know you are reading - it might just snap my work mode back on!
Stay blessed, safe and healthy!
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 49: Gauntlet

Summary:

Ambition and will collides.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sedan sways like a boat in stormy sea and her hand clutches into a clammy grip around the scroll from the enemy. The scroll is written in slender writing. Lines sharp and slanted drawn by a careful, cold hand of a scholar. To those hands she had entrusted her heart once, to be twisted and altered, to be tempered with poison of sweet, poised words veiling intricate schemes. 

The man who had once written her poems of love now writes to call her to emperor’s service - to the imperial retinue. It is no invitation or command but a gauntlet thrown leaving her no choice but to accept. 

This had once been their plan. She thinks with a sigh. The paper rustles when her hand moves and the crushed folds emits the scent of dried chrysanthemums. It stirs at memories of shifting candle light - sly battle plans and evenings spent at her lady Aunt’s chambers. The memory of that past rage - misplaced and misinformed - seems like a mark left by a burn - blackened against her conscious. She had clenched the scroll condemning her brother for treason with vengeance.

Now that she recalls it, the memory rewards her with details her eyes clouded with rage had missed. There’s a weight in the look her aunt pressed upon her as if she is a thread being spun into gold. 

“Have you heard the tale of the wolf maiden?” Her Aunt leans back, as Ah Ri massages heated oil on her scalp, her eyes closing under the ministrations of her deft fingers. Ah Ri looks down at her over her mistress’s head and her mouth curls in disdain. Jang Mi seethes at the woman’s audacity to stand there and leer down at her - to suggest to her father that a match between her and that - that emperor - could salvage the clan from the doom her brother had condemned them to. Her brother did not deserve the bitterness hurled at him when they should be mourning him - he does not deserve his sister marrying his murderer. The insult - the mere suggestion of it makes her burn. 

“Aggassi,” Ah Ri says pointedly, her tone polite yet reprimanding. “Answer when her ladyship asks you a question.”

“I will not be a concubine!” She bites through gritted teeth, narrowing her eyes at Ah Ri. The woman - her father’s mistress - thinks they had somehow become equals by the mere suggestion of her becoming a murderer’s woman. When she stands up her embroidery stand collapses on the ground the silk pooling at her feet neglected and bruised like her heart. “I was to be the queen’s sister in law!”

“The queen’s brother is a traitor -” Concubine Kang clicks her tongue, distaste knotting her brows before they are eased by Ah Ri’s caring hand. “Dealings with a traitor suits the shadows better.”

Jang Mi pauses at the implication. 

“Lady Aunt -”

“Your father may have given up on the prince but I have not.”

“My lady,” Ah Ri breathes stilling with shock. “You cannot possibly -” 

Finally her aunt opens her eyes - they glitter silver like a snake’s with single minded focus. “Your father wishes to make you a queen - my rose. Now if you want him - he must be made the king.” She closes her eyes with a sigh and waves a hand gesturing her to sit down. “Now the wolf maiden?”

“No,” Jang Mi says sulking, “I do not know.”

“She was a daughter of the mountains - a priestess of moon.”

“They called her the wolves’ moon - for they sought her, guarded her, heeded her call. She had silver eyes like a wolf, the most beautiful woman to ever walk the -” Ah Ri adds, the awe in her voice barely hidden. She draws silent when concubine Kang waves one clawed hand. “Forgive me my lady.”

“She was foolish - as she was powerful. Power is often given to ignorant -those who do not know its worth or their own.” Her words are disdainful when concubine Kang continues. “A warrior came to seek her out, there was summer in his eyes - sun in his skin - blood on his hands. He spun her a dream or two with careless fingers - the fool that she was - she paid with her heart.” She draws a pause and Ah Ri begins to brush her hair. Dark inky waves tumble down to her waist and glitters in a pool on the bed where it coils and catches the light of the flickering candle. The most beautiful woman of mountains…    

“It wasn’t her heart that he wanted,” she sighed, a twitch of annoyance flickered across her expression. “The man had enough hearts to spend as he wished. It was her blood - the magic in her blood. The warrior brought with him a curse. A wife who had died an untimely death, grieved that his heart was with another, had left a shadow upon him. It was a stone tethered to his neck, pulling him into a bottomless water. A rain-less kingdom - a harvest burnt by thunder - death of a beloved - his eldest son receiving a fetal wound in battle.”

“He wanted her to become a shield for him. A talisman against the shadow.” She flinched a little as Ah Ri pulled at her braids. “Even when she knew of his betrayal she could do nothing against him. For she had made her choice to love him. So she choose to believe in him - to protect him at the cost of her life.” 

At this her aunt pauses again and the cold gray ice of her gaze settle their full force falls upon her. It makes her shift for Jang Mi knows the accusation in her eyes. They speak of failures wrought because of her. 

“Those chosen by power must make their choices with caution,” her aunt says breezily but her gaze continues to cut. “The monster you choose to protect all those years ago has risen and swallowed your own in return. Your brother’s death rests on your shoulders - Kang Jang Mi for your power shields his murderer.”

She no longer sounds soft and forgiving. Instead the wrath contained in her eyes bleeds into her tone and the concubine Kang raises to her feet, throwing her braid over her shoulder. Her pale face peers down at her crouching low to her eye level. The jutting line of her jaw pointed at Jang Mi like a sword she stares her down. 

“Does it make you burn - my rose ? Wouldn’t the pain reduce you to cinders?”

A lone tear, prickling in its acidity trickles down her face. She had refused to cry - disgrace the memory of her brave brother in such a manner but the new burden that her aunt forces upon her crushes her resolve. 

“Life for a life is the rule of mountains. Your brother will not find peace as long as his killer breathes the air. Now that his life is tethered with yours - you must cut the ties yourself.”

Air rushes out of her lungs in a whoosh. 

In her aunt’s hand there is a dagger. It is familiar down to the last carved symbol on the black hilt. 

“Don’t miss his heart twice - my rose.

The sunlight is bleeding through the lattice of sedan by the time they return to the palace and draws into an abrupt halt, jerking her out of those memories. The gates of the palace had closed behind her and in front of her waiting for her to dismount is the center of all her bitterness.

The eighth prince does not hold out his hand for her when she steps down from the sedan. Instead he watches, a look of appraisal upon his face. A corner of his mouth twitches betraying a trace of emotion in an otherwise stone face. 

“Welcome back - lady Kim! ” He performs a mocking bow- never dropping his gaze. “It’s strange how easily you left when your princess remains at the palace. Lucky you are to catch the emperor’s eye otherwise such audacity could get you killed.”

Jang Mi purses her lips, bringing forth the crushed scroll. 

“This,” she tells him, handing the scroll. “This will get you killed - Prince Wook.” The moment he takes to open the order he had written allows her to take note of his unkempt appearance. There are ink stains on his sleeve. Though he is wearing robes befitting his grandeur - the sunlight cannot hide his pallor, the years that had been unkind to him or the malice shimmering within his carefully veiled expression. Wook meets her eye coldly, lips half stretching into a ghost of a distasteful smile. 

“It is a sin to impersonate will of heavens.”

“I am merely a scribe - my lady. Until his majesty’s health improves,” he answers indifferently, shifting a shoulder to dismiss her accusation. “The words came from the son of heavens -”

“Is that what you are feeding the ministers?”

“The king is indisposed!” He says loudly and then sighs as if the words were extracted against his will. “We must all do what we can to hold the nation adrift.”

Displeasure makes her mouth curl. Jang Mi notices the people hurrying across the court - yard, who would have undoubtedly caught Wook’s accidental slip of tongue. Also, they would bear witness if she is to reveal any of their discord. Her eyes snap back to find him looking at her thoughtfully and the years seem to melt away, leaving a cold feeling of anticipation. 

This was the man who had schemed to pit his brothers against each other before his father’s body was cold. Who would have killed So had the opportunity been given. They stand at the same place once more and she sees the ice cold ambition that she had not seen then. Hae Soo had been blind to the shades of men - Jang Mi was anything but. 

Instead she bows indifferently. 

“I will take my leave then - prince Wook.”

He steps in front of her, swiftly blocking her path. She glares at him, trying to quell her fury. 

“Where are the princes - Jang Mi - yah?” His words are soft, hushed against the wind, but nevertheless they causes her to intake a sharp breath. Almost immediately Jang Mi masks the falter in her expression. 

“I don’t know what you mean - your highness.” Wook blocks her again when she tires to side - step him and reaches out a hand to grasp her elbow. He dips his head foreword to whisper in her ear. 

“Why do you think you’ve been summoned?”

She inhales before meeting his eye. 

“I’ve been transferred from the grand princess’ household to the imperial retinue. Have I not - your highness?” She asks him, feigning the frustratingly breezy ignorance. “As your highness put it before -” a slow smile twists her mouth. “I’ve caught the emperor’s eye.”

Wook’s hold on her elbow tightens reflexively, his fingers digging into her flesh. His eyes glitter, and mouth presses into a flat line. 

“Do you think it’s easy?” he hisses, all pretenses of polite conversation forgotten. “You think it’s over? One fine hour doesn’t mean she is gone.”

Jang Mi clicks her tongue, edging on his temper that is already on tenterhooks. 

“After all the time you’ve taken to spin the web…did you just loose the prey?”

A muscle in Wook’s jaw flexes but then he smiles. 

“But then - you are here. Lady Kim ,” he tells her, his tone softening again. “And so is the grand princess and her precious charge - the emperor’s ward? I’m sure his majesty will return before long.”

“Do you think she will be ruled by your will?” Something snaps holding her control when he takes Seol’s name. Jang Mi pry off Wook’s hold on her and steps back. “Have you learned nothing of all your failures - Wang Wook?”

“So you’ve decided to forgo the pretenses finally?”

“You will end up a puppet in her hands. Was that the bargain? Have you allowed her to feed on your soul?”

Wook smiles a little - thoughtfully weighing the fury in her face. 

“It’s sad how unresourceful you think I am - or how cruel you think your aunt is. Does it make you so furious - lady Kang? Your inability to confront her? Would you rather run away instead of admitting your defeat? Is it that hard to watch his ruination?

The last of his questions is full of bitterness and bottled up fury. 

“You cannot ruin him.” 

“Wouldn’t it be fun to see that resolve of yours crumbling?” He asks spitefully. “Don’t worry I will keep you by his side all the time.”

Jang Mi tilts her chin, blinks back the tears of anger that prickles her eye. 

“That will be your first mistake.”

He bows at her mockingly, his lips twisting into a loathsome smile. 

“It had always been fun to play with you - Jang Mi - yah, be it across the board or a royal court.” He says then and reaches into his sleeve to retrieve a silk pouch. “If it gets too difficult to bear - you may find this useful.”

The silk falls away when he gives it to her and Jang Mi finds herself clutching the dagger from her memories - with its black hilt and the carved symbols still unchanged. 

“You cannot miss his heart twice after all.”

Notes:

Oh before you ask is that it - no, of cause not! That was half of it, the other half I will post as soon as I get it done. So keep an eye out during the course of next week.
Stay safe!
Share your thoughts! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 50: Adrift

Summary:

The threads unravel themselves and the fates rekindle. She would leave him no more.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

In the mountains the summer died young veiled in misty rains. The chill nipped at every bit off exposed skin and turned her breath into swirls of smoke. She clutched the baby and looked at the man who had brought her from the bloody capital that had swallowed her brother. It took a lot of will power not to look at the infant when she kept trying to clasp at her awry hairs or pull her nose. Her eyes were beautiful and they tugged at her heart. Jang Mi swallowed resolutely - no, she was a weapon - means to an end. 

“Must you go?” She asked him instead, trying to seek reassurance in the eyes drowned in shadows. “Must it be today?”

He shifted, a gesture that drew him further into the shadows, away from her and closer to the mount that would take him to Haes. But he reaches for her hand. 

“My cover will not be kept for long,” said Wook, stroking the back of her palm in soothing circles. “Since there is two of us, this fight won’t last long. I want you to be strong - your brother would have wanted that.”

“I know -” she looked down. His words had that power of making her feel ashamed of her yearnings - of her fears. Their goal was bigger than that - bigger than her petty desires. 

“I would not fail you,” she assured herself more than him. “I won’t fail him.”

“Jang Mi - ya,” there was an urgent pressing to his tone now. The light was breaking, they would not have much time. 

“Yes.”

“Do you know where the court ladies who leave the service of your aunt go?” 

“My - my aunt’s service?” She took a moment to reflect on the question. “I haven’t seen her staff changing recently. But the old court lady Min used to live in Kang compound, in a house my father provided as a token of gratitude.”

Wook takes the information with silent contemplation and bows. 

“What happened after her death - what of her belongings?”

“Why? We sent them to her family.” 

“Are you sure?” Wook sounded mildly intrigued. “Nothing remains? Her will - her letters - anything?”

“Are you investigating on my aunt?” 

Wook inhaled and reached to pat her cheek. 

“Of cause not. There is something I must find - that’s all.”

She swallowed not meeting his gaze. The rueful smile he gave her filled her with guilt. Her brother was accused of hurting his nephew - she could not blame him with it has strained their bond. 

“You must know -” she spoke with conviction. “We are on the same side.”

“We are - of cause we are!”

“If you want something found - I will see it found.”

Wook sighed, his touch on her face remaining warm. 

“I want to find a letter. It is mentioned in my late imperial father’s missives to his spies. He has looked for it during his last years. Penitent’s confession they called it.”

“I will find it for you,” she promised with determination in her eyes, though the words had meant nothing then. He drew her close and held her in an embrace for a fleetingly cold moment as the dawn broke ahead of them in crawling fingers of palest blush. 

“I must go,” his breath stirred her hair and brushed against her cheek.

“May fortune be with you.”

And they parted ways at the border of her father’s lands - their ways never to come together again. 

**

It is now that the memory is lit with the recollections of a life spent as Hae Soo that she found the words familiar. The Penitent’s confession. She a recalls of a dying king, the stifling room darkened with draperies drawn against the mid - day sun and the air thick with the scent of death that no fragrance of tea could hide. The general sits at the bedside of his old comrade and his armor clinks in the pauses between hushed conversations. Behind the screen, where she boils the water and crushes the herbs - she could still hear the laboured breathing of the man. 

“Hubaekje,” the emperor rasps. “The rebels gloat they have an arrow to shoot down a star…it must be…it has to be…”

“Are you certain?” Asks the general.

“It has to be found and destroyed - immediately.”

“The crown prince will be king - I give you my word…” 

They speak no more for a while and Soo stirs a bit of warm water in the cup before emptying it - ready for use. It is when she is pouring the boiling water over the dried petals that begins the blossom in the heat that the emperor speaks again. 

“His reign will not last long…”

“Pyeha!” The general objects earnestly. 

The emperor heaves a breath - long and shuddering before he counters his friend. 

“I made him a warrior I failed in making him a ruler” - a sigh - “Perhaps I’ve always allowed the knowledge to halt my hand. There’s another fated for the throne.”

“But…”

“Mu knows. He doesn’t hold it against anyone. Instead he begged me to go there himself instead of So. My soft hearted boy - he still wishes to shield his brother from harm.”

She has to shake her head to rid herself of the images - they swim her mind, the smell of death, the pain of fear that pulses along her heart in anticipation of a battle - the hauntingly familiar passages of the king’s hall bring them back in waves of nausea. 

It is deserted now as it had been then. The terror takes her in sharp claws. She must go to him - now! For a one moment of blind fear, of longing and love she doesn’t care if it was exactly what Wook had designed, if the entire palace sat at his palm for however brief passing it was - for a moment there is no cold scheming, no ice of calm that she had faced Wook with - but instead the raw fire of the deepest emotions she had ever dared to feel. Something shatter somewhere and it makes a resounding echo in the hallways. The lack of guard, the emptiness tear at her with foreboding.

With the same intensity of intent she tears through the unguarded doors, straight into chaos and a mad king.

**

The boys are alive. 

He keeps it in mind, a taste rolling over his tongue as he gives them what they wait to see - madness. He takes shelter in it against the preying eyes among the spies that pretends to serve. Inwardly he endeavors to chase out the fears that threaten to grip him - the sense of failure that waits to drown - for it is what feeds her and snaps the threads of control. He would not give in. 

He could feel her stirring awake, the evil with its claws digging into his conscious, he could feel the first tendrils of darkness. They screech, claw and try to break out, the resultant pain pounds in his head and makes him wince. Like poison with poison, the pain could only be drowned in sharper - more intense pain. 

The pain of injuries he had sustained had kept him sane for a couple of hours until sunrise, but it was only a dull ache now - barely felt over the pounding. He needs more.  

The porcelain brakes with a sharp echo of emptiness and the pieces scatter everywhere. Where he had gripped it the rough edge of the piece that remains in his hand - the remains of the untouched cup of tea - digs into his flesh and draws blood. The sharp sting of it clears his mind for a moment and he catches the look the attendant’s exchange. 

Is that what you expected?

He thinks, reading their faces. The spies - poorly skilled - could hardly hide the enthusiasm as they wait to relay their master the good news. So enjoys it, playing with pawns of his opponents, but it irks him to think that Wook had used such lousy ones to guard him. Instead he throws the next cup at the eunuch with the most pleased expression. There - now you have a black eye to boast about. 

He raises to his feet slowly, staggering, making the retinue step back with fearful urgency and draws out his sword - prompting them to kneel - to beg for mercy for the everyday drama that he was getting quite bored of. He is half toying with the idea of killing one of the lousy spies - the madness would allow him that - when she barges in. 

So he knows… is the first thought that occurs him. He had thought Wook was unaware, but his scholarly brother was never blissfully ignorant for long. And he found his own way of tormenting him. 

And you are afraid. 

He thinks next, the moment he allows his eyes to finally settle upon her. Fear is an ill fitting expression on her face. He had almost forgotten how she could grow so pale and her eyes could widen with such terror. And he had forgotten how deeply he hated to be the receiver of that expression. 

Just as I am. 

The chill grips his heart in a fist and squeezes the moment she steps in and his resolve crumbles. Everything he withheld, the fear, the guilt, the longing, the greed, rise in a furious tide and feeds those feeble tendrils of darkness. He blinks staggering backwards, trying to catch his breath against the sudden onslaught of pain.

She eyes the sword pointed at her with those wide - terrified eyes and opens her mouth. The words he never allow her to utter. Instead he grabs her and pulls her in, the blade pressed against her throat. 

“How dare you return,” he hisses wrathfully. “Leave us!” The retinue takes a beat to register the order and he allows the blade to brush against her skin - enough for blood to bead and catch their notice. The attendants spring to their feet - stumbling over themselves in their hurried pretense of helping. “Leave!” He growls, narrowing his eyes. She nods slightly, and the retinue falls back - their identical expressions of terror remaining unchanged until the door slides shut. 

He feels her shuddering inhale as he drops the blade. Still he doesn’t allow her to speak. Instead he takes hold of her wrist and pulls her in with him, across the antechamber - the privy chamber and into the bedchamber. She struggles against his hold, saying words that he pays no mind to. Not until he opens the sliding panel behind the changing screen. It slides to open the dark and dusty tunnel that leads out - the air smell of mould and decay. She stumbles when he pushes her in. Her hand bunches the material at his shoulder and finds her balance. He doesn’t meet those terrified eyes. 

“Leave!” He tells her instead. When she doesn’t move, he places the blade at her throat. “ Now.

The terror has replaced itself with a strange expression and she reaches out to cradle his face. Her fingers are cold, hesitant as they touch him. He steps back, shrugging off that tempting hold. 

“Seol will be brought to you,” he adds in a small voice, trying to think of a reason for her to forgo the safe passage he had opened for her - for Baek Ah and to return to the jaws of a trap. “I -” he swallowed. “You have my word, I will not go near her.”

Her eyes brim and her fingers tremble. 

“Lord husband,” her voice is merely a breath. 

He closes his eyes and sighs. 

“Just leave - please!”

Her hand winds around his and unravels his fingers around the hilt - the sword clutters on the ground. Then suddenly she is closer, pressed against him, her arms are around him, fingers threading into his hair and bringing his head to rest against her throat. 

“Go…” he mutters feebly, his voice muffled against her skin. 

“I won’t,” she tells him. “Even if you chase me away. Did we not agree upon that?”

“You can’t stay. You can’t - you can’t -”

He nuzzles her throat almost greedily, the scent of crushed peonies filling his senses. But his bleeding hand smudges blood against her milky skin and he tears away with a jolt - reeling. The sharp stab of pain curls against his spine as the fear returns. 

“Please -” his voice breaks. Hurting you will kill me. "Please…!"

She draws him closer with gentle hands, into an embrace resembling a mother’s than a lover’s. He feels overwhelmed, that he rests his forehead on her shoulder and allows her to bury him. For a moment she says nothing. Her heart pounds against his and her breath sings in his ears. 

“It isn’t you but your fear speaking,” she tells him, her tone softer. But then she cradles his face in her hands and pulls his gaze to hers. “I will not have you afraid - Pyeha, I will not accept it.”

Those eyes - they glitter of a fire, of hope, faith and love. Its warmth washes over him, making him shudder at its intensity. 

“I could not have chosen wrong, my king would not fail me.”

“I could have killed you -”

“That wasn’t you - they weren’t your actions. And I have not forgiven them,” She looks at him, with that fire burning in her eyes - her insistent fingers digging into his face. “I will not forgive her. I will not allow her to take you from me - you must not feed her with fear.”

“It doesn’t last -” he tries again. “I won’t be myself -”

“I will bring you back. Again and again. Thousand times if I have to. You’ve been alone enough - no more.”

"I will send you away," he tells her, the conviction turns his voice bitter and breaks her heart. She sees it in his eyes, those memories tormenting him. She knows that he recalls how easily she had hated him over the blood he had to spill, how easily she had forsaken him, how easy it had been once to sentence them both to a lifetime of suffering - by a simple misunderstanding. "And you will leave." 

"I am about to turn into a man you would find unacceptable. You will grow to hate. You will leave." He holds out his hands, tainted with the blazing red if his own blood. "These are hands of a killer." 

She would hear no more of his self degradation, Jang Mi takes those hands in hers - those bloodied hands of a killer . He grows rigid as she pressed her mouth to each knuckle with slow, deliberate reverence. Her eyes never leaving his, never wavering. 

"I'd place my life in no other hand," she vows and wills him to believe in her, surrender to her as he had once done. "I'd bow to no other king." 

Her fingers thread across his nape and brings his mouth down to hers. Her lips tingle with longing, as they brush against his and her hold on him tightens. He remains motionless for a couple of heartbeats - frozen under her lips moulding into his, a sigh of warmth thawing at his resolve and her exhale dissolving into his. Her teeth worries at his lower lip, soothing with a swipe of her tongue across the seam of his mouth - her fingers dig into his face finding their perch on his flesh. 

With a groan he gives in, pulling her closer with an arm around her waist and another sinking into the sinful luster of her hair. He kisses her deeply, overriding the finesse of her start with his longing - his greed - his need for her. To feel her, to taste her to draw her in. To breathe, to live. To lose himself in the moment. 

For a moment - he tells himself. Just a moment - he promises, drinking her essence with fevour. Let me remain here with her . And I would ask no more. Let this moment linger as long as possible. 

"You are all I have left," she had told him once. Now he looks into her eyes and allows himself to admit. "You are all I've ever had." 

Notes:

I'm rather sorry I couldn't bring it as soon as I promised. But then I'm glad I got it done somehow.
50 chapters would not have been possible without you, trust me I know how lazy I could get had it not been for your inspiration! :-) we have only a little bit more to go, and I hope you'll be there to see it to the end with me. :-)
I hope you are safe and healthy wherever you are, continue to be blessed and do enjoy the future chapters!
Share your thoughts, make my day!
Thank you for reading!

Chapter 51: Demons

Summary:

Those demons that are fed, wins.

Notes:

6.k !!! It feels like only yesterday that I posted first chapter! All because of you lovely people, please consider this an offering of gratitude! ♡♡♡

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Steam rises in lazy swirls, heady with fragrance. 

“You are all I’ve ever had.”

He had tried where fear, guilt or pain had failed to offer her honesty, dipped in greed of his fingers tracing her face - the shape of her trembling lips. Wishing it would thwart her in her foolhardily pursuit. She indulges him nudging her cheek against his palm in wordless invitation.The woman she has become, the adamant, willy thing would not be so easily discouraged.  

Her soft fingers run along his collar, unfastening. Brushing against his skin in soft, innocent touches. He tries to avoid her gaze when she peels back a layer of robes, unwilling to accept her assistance that relieves his shoulders off their burden - layer by layer. 

She has chosen her familiar cage, the olive green silk he was once so accustomed to see her in, the hushed whispers of Damiwon and the silent judgement of countless peers. He had wanted to ask what she’s been doing all day - but then the efforts are quite evident around him. 

The eunuchs fold away the silk respectfully and retire to the farthest corners. She remains standing there - watching them with cold indifferent eyes until they’ve bowed and withdrawn leaving them once again under the illusion of privacy.

“How long have you been awake?” Her tone is softer yet and the tips of her fingers trace the edges of his dark circles. “How long - Pyeha?”

He presses a finger to her lips, silencing the question, despite his own misgivings. 

“They must not know - not yet.” He tells her in explanation. “Which is why you must go. I cannot have any weakness that they could explore against me.”

So close that their words are mere puffs of breathing they exchange a look. Her exhale is long and troubled.

“It is too late now.” She takes his hand in hers, allowing the warmth to engulf his frozen fingers. “If you send me away - a crack opens in your armor. A doubt rises.”

He flinches with his eyes closed. 

“No. You must go.”

“Lord husband -”

“I will not be coaxed into this - no!”

Her hands are bloodied with blood from the wound he had kept reopening during the day and she says nothing for a moment as she examines the deep gash running the length of his palm. 

“Does pain help you remain awake?” 

“You have blood on your face.”

She says nothing for a moment - drawing him by his hand towards the water, the warmth that awaits. They sit side by side on the half submerged steps, where the thick candles melt in the heat and feed their flames.

“I’ve been told that I look glorious wearing blood,” she says with a dry chuckle and presses his bleeding hand against her heart. “You told me this once and I’ve believed since - we shall survive, you and I. It doesn’t matter how - doesn’t matter at what cost. Neither of us will lose the other. This I promise you tonight - lord husband.”

“Why do you call me that? When both of us know that decree was a farce.” He means to hurt, cast her away as he had once, with words that tear at her pride. Instead she pours heated water on his raw wound. He flinches but she holds fast, cleaning the gash with single minded focus. 

“You are lord to my people before king to many,” she says flatly but her eyes she keeps downcast their depths hidden from him. “And the man to make me a woman.” A traitorous tear trickles along her nose, drips and burns against his open flesh. The sting of salt nothing compared to the ache in his heart as he raises a hand to cradle her face. “To you I may not mean much - but you are the fate I’ve chosen.”

“I -”

“I cry easily these days,” she cuts him off with a watery smile. “It’s not your majesty’s fault that I wish I could be - I could be more. That I wish you wouldn’t look at me and your eyes keep searching - for something that is missing, for something that I don’t possess - for her . I cannot give her back - Even if I were to die…”

He takes her mouth in a kiss that is unyielding, tasting the salt on her lips, heat of the sigh which parts them. It is different from the kisses in his memory - as she said - he realizes now - her lips tremble with an innocence, a missed beat in the rhythm - a sadness that settles like a weight at the pit of his heart and echo of those words from a nightmare once. 

Lie to me - say that you love me.

This love would kill her - he learns it anew from the fading memories of a nightmare. This unreciprocated love. Where she gives, gives and gives - until she is left with nothing. But still she kisses her tormentor with both greed and softness - want and fear. She allows the veil to drop, there would be no pretending anymore. She thinks the truth will set him free, that it will make him fear for her less - silly, silly girl.

They find themselves half submerged in water, her back against the wet stone, caged between his arms. He kisses her behind the ear, teeth scraping at fragile flesh of her lobe, and drags his mouth across her jaw. Her nails in return scrape a trail up his back, trying to pull him closer - until their silhouettes are one. Those darkened eyes beckon him, open and vulnerable - their desires, fears and secrets laid bare at last. 

“You are not her,” she flinches at his remark and tries to draw away in vain. “But you are.” He brushes back strands of wet hair plastered to her throat and trails that finger down the column of milky skin. “Tell me how - explain to me.”

“I am her,” she swallows. The pulse that throbs against her throat he traces with his lips. Easing her racing heartbeat with each stroke. “As much of her as she could belong in this time - with you. The rest of her I am not - rest of me she is not.”
“A different time?” 

“She is me in a different time - I am her, in this time.”

He watches her for a moment, a slight crease between his brows but now that she found her courage her gaze doesn’t waver from his. 

“When the same soul imprints upon itself by crossing the time, they merge together. Neither of us exist anymore. I am neither and both at the same time. For her to return where she came from, my life must reach its conclusion first.”

“In this other time ,” he says slowly as if indulging her in her puzzle of an answer. “Are we together?”

“No.” She replies slowly. “In that time I cannot find you - which is why I’ve returned. If you cast me away - if we part ways again - we shall never find our way to each other. This is that last chance, if I lose you now - we lose each other forever. In that other time there is no love for me - only betrayal and more betrayal. I’ve been deceived by a man I thought loved me and and my skills - friendship taken advantage of by a woman who called herself my friend. And you…You are not there. If I let them win now - if I let go, things won’t be much different here.”

She reaches for him by her own volition, her head lying heavy against his shoulder, hands splayed across his back. 

“Please do not ask me to leave - I do not wish to go.”

His palm running over her spine feels the shudder she tries to hide. She clenches together her cluttering teeth. 

“You are cold,” he pulls her closer. 

“I’m afraid,” she confesses in the end. “Things I’ve seen - I’m afraid of them coming to pass.” She cradles his face greedily. “I’ve seen you fall - lord husband, I’ve seen us parting without a last word. I’ve seen my son on throne, a child king - a defenseless, pale - pitiful child drowning in his father’s robes. I will not leave you to such a fate.”

“Then stay,” he mutters in the end, smoothing away her tears and pressing his lips to her crown. Knowing it is wrong of him to want her so, but helpless against it. “But not here.”

“Lord husband -!”

“No - just as you won’t see your nightmares coming to pass, I shall not have mine. Stay with Baek Ah, with my sister and Seol. Not here - not where our ghosts roam free. Not in their claws. Stay if you must, but not as a pawn - stay as a queen.” He kisses her slowly, warm as a promise. “Go.. I will come to you, I promise.”

**

Fury fuels his strides. It is only by sheer will power that Wook halts before the opening doors of the court. The court session had ended a moment before and the exiting Ministers exchange dark looks before shaking their heads and hastening their steps. They do not linger to eavesdrop the discussion between the restored prince and the emperor. Once he enters the attendants shut the doors. 

“Long live the emperor!” He bows with tasteless words, trying to judge the reaction of the face in shadows. 

“You need not bother with words neither of us want to be heard - prince,” the emperor’s voice is cold and scathing. Wook heaves a breath but does not unclench his fists. The doubt worms its way in and settles against his insecure mind, he checks and double checks and wipes his tracks once more. A mere word cannot assure him. 

“You let her go,” he says slowly, casting a bait at the risk of his life. “Why?”

The emperor reaches for the cap he had drained and throws it at him, the porcelain shuttering at his feet. 

“You fool!” He growls. “You imbecile - trying to douse your fears by giving them rein over me! I wish - I wish I could wring your neck!” 

“Watch your tongue,” the words escape him dripping with anger. 

“She has the power to wake him, she would have me bound - that girl will not be brought into the palace again!”

“The power…”

“I realized it that first time she tried to reach him. Realized and which is why I wanted her send away with that Anjong. But no - you’d have me telling you everything step by step - as if a toddler!”

“You report to me!”

His throat runs dry when the emperor looms over him, a head taller than he is and eyes frosted over with malice. 

“Fool -” he says slowly. “Nothing - rules - over - me!”

Wook holds the eyes of the monster for a moment more, trying to suppress the inner conflict of his own fear and hatred. Of every sacrifice he had to make, he will not bow down to the ghost of a madwoman - but then, there is frost in those eyes, deadly than any fire he had survived. For the first time he feels its chilly claws scratching down his spine. Was he a fool to play with fire? To rouse the sleeping demons?

But then he notes how malice distorts that face of his half brother. He had brought this about, he had crushed the heaven send king, the man with a star that he had not had. Slowly, his lips twitch into a smile. This was only the beginning of the end. If heavens did not choose him, he shall raise hell and burn it all - including the king she had chosen - and the demons would be his to rule once he finds that arrow to shoot down the star. He would dispose with this monster as it deserves. This was but a charade for a while. 

He bows. 

“Forgive me - forgive my oversight.”

The monster draws a breath muscles of its face twitching, thinking, reasoning. Wook is however not finished. 

“But, we must have them in our grasp - the household of Anjong and the shadows that he command. We must find the princes -”

“The Ryus comes first,” the monster cuts him off with a shake of his head. “I want that hag of Jeonju stripped of her armies and her slaves.”

“The Ryus - but…”

“They have forsaken you,” his tone turns sarcastic. “Do not fall for the hag’s words - she likes to coddle both sides until a clear winner can be seen. Had it not been for her meddling hand the dog would not have survived in Shinju. Her lash is already in their hand. The moment we touch Anjong she would retaliate.”

Wook doesn’t speak immediately. It was true enough, though the words came from a madwoman. True that the only thing dowager queen Jeondeok wanted was to make her daughter a queen. But neither of her daughters would sit on the throne if his plans were to be accomplished. Jeondeok was irremediably bound to Anjong. 

“It will not be possible to single out her at this moment,” he tries to circumvent for he still has misgivings on forsaking the Ryus.  

“The slaves then -” the monster says. “Her magic is that of blood and the blood comes from the slaves.”

Wook inhales sharply. This was new. He had not heard that before. 

“If not her slaves alone, then strip them all of their slaves - blood of freemen holds no magic - no value.”

“I will think about this…” Wook says in the end. 

“I will see it done,” the monster proclaims. “Leave now - this conversation is no longer entertaining.”

“As you wish - Pyeha,” he leaves with a last bow, a clenched jaw and a throbbing temper. Try as he might Wook cannot quell the doubts clawing at him long after he had left the monster’s presence. 

Once he leaves So draws in a rattling breath allowing the facade to drop. The fury boils within him, with no escape. He holds the reins in a bleeding grip, not allowing the evil to escape. It is amusing to think how the years upon years of torture at the hand of that woman has made him quite apt at wearing her skin. With each wave of darkness that he suppresses it only becomes easier - familiar. Let Wook think he has the strings - let him believe in what he sees, let him live that illusion of being his master. He would build his empire in the way he needs - Wook would serve his purpose until he realizes he is dancing on his own pyre. 

It must be the darkness eating away at him that the thought makes his lips curl into a sneer. He shall not mourn this brother. 

Notes:

Half chapter again. But I could clearly see it as a break here so I decided to end it there. That might possibly mean the next update will be quicker than you think. :-)
It is sort of wrong to say this here, but if you still haven't paid it a visit - my new story Rain on Me is out and about. Do have a look and let me know what you think! And to those of you who already did - needless say a big hug and super thanks! <3
Thanks for reading! Share your thoughts and stay safe!

Chapter 52: War - bringer

Summary:

A war is waged a long before the armies meet in battle. Right from the moment the pawns are placed.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Winter is no longer ice and wind. Held breath of night is tinted with promises of thaw and a spring yet far away. The moon hangs low over the whistling naked branches. A horse walks taking shelter in the shadows of the night and the weary rider on its back is chasing the straps of moonlit silver on the fresh fallen snow. As the woods thin into young trees and visages of a monastery the rider dismounts and creeps out in slow measured steps. They seem to succeed, almost so until the rider clears the forest line and steps up towards the stone paved path leading towards the monastery.

And stills.

In the silence of the night, the cocking of a crossbow is distinct and without turning around, the hooded figure knows that the tip of the poison laced dart is pointed at them.

“Welcome back - princess!”

Chun steps around the motionless figure, his hand still placed on the crossbow and faces Gyeonhwagun under her snow dusted hood. The girl shifts, stiffening under his scrutiny and tries to avoid looking into his eyes.

“Did you follow me - lord Park?” She tries to sound miffed, but ends up sounding uncertain. Chun’s lips twist into a faint smile.

“You did take me on a merry ride - your highness. Appease yourself, I am on imperial orders not to allow you out of my view.”

“Imperial orders coming from lady Kang?” The girl snorts, brushing past him and moving into the monastery. “Did she ask you to tail me like needle and thread?”

“Princess -”

“I get it,” she shrugs off the cloak and leaves the snow drenched garment on the stone steps of the temple. Chun swallows for a moment losing the track of his thoughts. His eyes trail the sweeping sheet of glossy darkness as she shakes out snow from the tendrils of windswept hair. “My prospective imperial aunt do not trust my motives.” The last of water splatter on his face when she tosses her hair over her shoulder. The princess regards him with a frosty look. “You agree with her.”

Chun clears his throat, slightly flushed to get caught staring at her.

“Would you not, if a princess supposedly retired from politics takes up sneaking out at nights to practice martial arts?”

“Huh!” Snorts Gyeonhwa, but unconsciously her hand runs to her throat and fingers trail absentmindedly at her collar. “As if one clumsy girl could threaten his majesty.”
Chun frowns, gathering his senses enough to remove himself from the chilly night into the shelter of the monastery and dusts the snow off his shoulders.

“There was once a sword dancer - I think you’ve heard the story - had the fates not intervened she would have killed the emperor.” He looks carefully at the girl’s face. “You know of her, the disposed princess of HuBaekje, beloved of your uncle the grand prince.”

Gyeonhwa turns away, hands folded across her chest defensively.

“I have no ill intentions towards imperial uncle...”

“-now that your brothers are safe,” Chun adds to her trailing off statement and steps closer. “I’ve seen it in your eyes - princess, so would have lady Kang.”

Gyeonhwa blinks, the frost of her eyes flashes once before she drops her gaze to the ground. Nails of her thumbs peel at each other’s skin.

“My father died at the hands of his brothers - the uncle who killed him, he died a paranoid lunatic.” She looks at him, swallowing. “Water, fire, snake and crown cannot be trusted.”

“Your brothers are dead to the world,” Chun says slowly. “If his majesty intended them to die, there is nothing stopping him from slitting their throats himself.”

“You don’t -”

“The lords of Im and Park clans are colluding with the Hwangbos as we speak,” Chun presses on, not letting the princess cut him off. “Your maternal uncles are raising armies in the country against the emperor because they believe he had their heirs executed. Had his majesty wished for protection against them, he would not have kept their survival a secret. His majesty, genuinely wants the boys to live - gonjunim. He wishes them a life of freedom not one of political pawns.”

“As long as he does, I have no reason to go against him.” Gyeonhwa shakes her head finitely. “I see no reason to cast doubts upon my intentions - Lord Park. I am not unlike lady Kang, she wishes to save her family I wish to do the same for mine.”

Chun sighs and steps back, taking her implicit order to end the conversation. Still the silence etching between them is tensed, uncomfortable. Gyeonhwa doesn’t need to turn around to know his eyes remain on her. She swallows again, a little bitterness of guilt. She has done nothing wrong. Nobody could fault her for a wicked thought - she was no nun.

“Your wrist needs more work,” his words jerk her out of her self confession. She rounds upon him.

“Pardon me?”

“The power of a punch is not in your knuckles, it lies at your wrist. If you wish to hurt someone in a hand to hand combat, strengthen your wrist more - first. Then spine.”

“Huh -” Gyeonhwa says thoughtfully. “What do you -”

“If your highness is determined to learn, allow this servant to teach you.”
**

Jung shifts uncomfortably watching the approaching rider. He would rather fix his eyes upon the listless moon instead of that unsettling face of lady Kang - that stolen face. It was easy to loath her in seclusion but difficult to hold into that fury when confronted with those eyes fixed upon him. Her expression though could never have been Soo’s. The woman reins in her mount with a sure hand his late wife never possessed, and watches him through her snow dusted lashes with a haughty indifference of a queen.

“Get down,” she says briskly. Behind her, wrapped and drowning in furs - Mun Hee struggles to dismount. To Jung’s chagrin lady Kang makes no move to help her as she continues to regard him with monotonous attention. Unconsciously he moves on his own and pulls her down, securely into his arms. Her cheeks are flushed in the night chill and their eyes meet for a moment.

Jang Mi regards them for a moment before she tugs on the reins, the neigh of protest that her horse utters breaks up the moment. Jung looks up at her in distaste.

“As I said before,” he utters darkly. “You are good in negotiations - lady Kang.”

Mun Hee watches them with a bitterness of her own. Jang Mi notices the weary expression and her mouth twitches.

“Do not look at me so,” she says tilting her head. “I did tell you - princess Mun Hee, you are nothing but a bargaining chip.”

“What will happen to her - my mother?” The princess adds hesitantly. “He is after her, isn’t he?”

“His majesty’s secrets are not mine to disclose.”

Jung snorts.

“But his games yours to play?”

Something about his tone makes Jang Mi’s eyes flash and her jaw tighten.

“I thought we had an understanding - your highness,” she tells him coldly. “Or would you rather walk away without paying your dues?”

“Orabeoni?” Mun Hee says in alarm. “What is this -?”

Jang Mi swiftly dismounts and the light from the single burning torch in Jung’s hand highlights the fur on her shoulders. She wears the emperor’s cloak in a casual display of authority.

“To ask me that question shows how much you’ve learned from this game - wangjanim, it is I who play his games -”

“You fancy yourself a queen -”

“I’ve decided that is what I will be, if it means I could remain by his side. Before you remind me - I’ve learned it the hard way - my choices back then, my beliefs on right and wrong were as ignorant and naive as I had been. I am not the woman you’ve known once and I do not regret it anymore.”

“What makes you think they would approach me?” Jung asks after a moment. He decidedly stares at her shoulder now, instead of her face - the fur with imperial color on them, it makes him easy to focus. “Wook hyungnim knows that I betrayed him once - I made him lose the Hae forces.”

“But now you’ve eloped with the emperor’s intended,” Jang Mi says simply. “Traitors are often blinded by love.”

“I - what?”

“It wasn’t me who brought Mun Hee here, it was your doing. You would take her away - and thus place yourself against the crown. The Ims and Ohs would offer you shelter in their treasonous folds.”

“You are crazy,” Jung shakes his head, unwilling to admit there is reason in her words. “Or you are going to get me killed.”

“You won’t die - your highness, for you won’t get caught,” she speaks with an absolute conviction that irks him. But Jang Mi’s eyes are no longer on him, instead she addresses Mun Hee. “The Ryus will fall. Your mother will get her just desserts. From here on, your fate is your on, gongjunim. Choose your sides wisely.” Her eyes soften for a moment, as she places the reins of the horse in Mun Hee’s hands. “Take care - Mun Hee - ya.”

She walks away without a backward glance, back into the forest from which they emerged, and Jung clenches his jaw.

“Is she going to walk all the way back to Kim residence? At night - in this weather?”

“You know its colder, where she came from - right prince Jung?”

Jung shifts uncomfortably.

“That wasn’t what I meant -”

Mun Hee smiles, rather wistfully as she pats the horse.

“It’s fine. You can worry about her without feeling guilty,” she shrugs, allowing him a moment to mask his expression. “There are shadows in the woods - they will deliver her back to her place.”
**

Seol is screeching, red in the face and burning all over - her fists banging weakly against lady Noh who carried her. Jang Mi stops short, suddenly cold in spite that she had left the winter outside and the fires of the princess residence crackled with merry warmth. Seol turns scrunched half moon eyes on her and wails.

“Omma!”

The women in the room turns towards her in tuned movements, Nakrang has a disapproving look in her face, lady Noh simply troubled.

“You are back.” The grand princess remarks drily. She had never agreed for her to enter the palace and took no time to express her displeasure. My brother trusted you to me she had said then, I would like to honor it.

She only gives her a faint bow, her eyes already fixed on her suffering child. Her hands tremble as they clasp around the baby.

“What happened - darling?” She coos at Seol, pressing her mouth to the sweaty but soft hair on her forehead. Seol rubs her face against Jang Mi’s throat, uncomfortable and feverish but trying to sooth herself.

“Omma,” she chokes on her sobs.

“You shouldn’t have left - Jang Mi - yah,” Nakrang sighs, still displeased but moved by the genuine distress in her face. The grand princess moves to help her with the cloak that now drips with melted snow. Jang Mi is oddly touched by the mundane display of affection. Nakrang is already looking over her shoulder at one of her ladies waiting by the door and raises her voice.

“Bring tea for the lady!”

“And honey,” Jang Mi adds, stroking Seol’s hair. “And oil of lavender. It will sooth her a little.” Seol is chewing at a fist full of her blouse and fidgeting uncomfortably. She buries her face against the baby and tries to quieten the sorrow building up inside her. Beneath all the soft baby fragrances Seol smells like her father -

“Are you crying?” Nakrang asks softly, hand resting on her shoulder. “Don’t cry now - it’s just a fever, most babies of her age gets bouts of flu one in a while. It’s okay, she’ll be fine.” But when her words do not seem to relieve her, Nakrang frowns. “Jang Mi - yah, what is wrong?”

“A war is coming,” she says in the end. “It will end up a choice between some or many. But blood will spill and he will be known a bloody king. I could have saved him the sin, the blame but I’d have lost him then. And I cannot - I cannot!”

She doesn’t cry, but the tears unshed burns her eyes. Nakrang watches her for a moment, at loss of words but then wordlessly gathers her into a lose hug. The grand princess has a touch of maternity that is far beyond her age, something about her unconditional affection makes her throat tighten.

“All those choices - all along I’ve made them. I choose to pain him, drag him through this when it could have been easier perhaps to kill the evil with him. He would not suffer so. But he would die defeated, I cannot bear the thought. And now - now we must walk this sword edge or bleed ourselves upon it. The blood I once detested him for spilling, I am the cause of it. I’ve caused it all - I am the war - bringer.”

Nakrang doesn’t ask, but she feels the question in her tightening arms. Seol waves her hands, wanting to move away from the stifling embrace. Jang Mi raises her head and finds the inquiring gaze of the grand princess.

“There is a curse upon Goryeo throne.”

Notes:

I admit it might be a boring read, but necessary to connect what happened and what is coming. As I said before this is the remaining part of the previous chapter, therefore a lot more detail and little happening.
Thank you for reading!
We'll meet again soon!

Chapter 53: Undoing

Summary:

Fear of losing is her undoing.

Notes:

Oh this chapter! It turned out to be a monster of a chapter. I've rewritten it twice and edited several times since that I absolutely cannot proofread it now. Perhaps later, when I get all of the several versions out of my head. In the meantime do forgive typos.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Though it had been a while since a king of their descent sat on the dragon throne the country house of Im clan still held fast to its grandeur. The paper lanterns burned in low hanging lines leading towards the main entrance and at both sides of the gate flames danced inside carved crates. The warmth did not ease the spirit of the fourteenth prince, no matter how many days he had been privy to this same visage. He is miffed at how accurate the lady Kang had been. The bitter truth of her sharp intellect when it comes to clan politics unsettled him. There was no doubt that his brother had grown into a wise king, cruel at times but the sort of ruler that befitted the times they lived - this rose of Kang however, was a woman of vicious qualities capable of crushing nations beneath her sole. Jang had not yet decided which side of his board she occupied.

His train of thoughts is cut short as clopping of hooves on the road thinly dusted with snow comes to a halt before him. The horse snorts sending swirls of hot air against his ear and Jung looks up into the cold, narrowed eyes of a brother he had once admired. Atop his mount, Wook regards him darkly shifting under the unfamiliar layers of fur wound on his shoulders.

Unwilling to be seen on the doorstep of a rival clan the Hwangbo prince hurries in, gesturing his younger brother to follow with his eyes. Jung waits a moment longer, unwilling to join the conspirators gathered around lord Im’s fire - or subject himself to the unpleasant scrutiny of his estranged brother - but then, with one last longing look at the twisting road he cannot take, he turns and follows his brother inside.

Inside the colluding lords argue back and forth with raised voices, fueled by wine, the warmth of fire and the generous security offered by lord Im’s name. A brief silence falls over them when Wook enters brushing snow off his shoulders. There is a tense breath that they hold in unison before lord Im approaches the prince and bows hastily.  

“Your highness,” he says in a tight voice. Jung notes the bitter note beneath the man’s smile. Whatever truce between them was as shallow as the hatred that run deep since the death of Hyejong.

Wook seems to note the same weakness to his scheme for he eyes the lords inside the room for a moment with a heavy meaningful gaze.

“His majesty will pass the new rice payment law within the month - by the end of the week the surveyors would be knocking your doors.”

“This cannot be done!” One of the lords exclaimed. “How could it be decided without going through the clan council?”

“Apparently after Hae clan’s actions and Ryu dowagers unwillingness to submit herself to the royal command his majesty no longer believes the clan council is of import.” Wook speaks briskly, confident on his words. He reaches for a goblet of wine pretending to ignore the dark looks of his audience and sips it leisurely. “He is adamant on lowering the number of slaves. It is that or the land lords end up paying thrice the amount of their normal tax.”

“His majesty has lost his mind!” Another lord pipes up, his goblet bangs against the tabletop and rattles all other tableware.

“Lord Oh do guard your tongue,” the eighth prince regards the agitated man with a barely concealed smile. “Do not forget his majesty has eyes and ears in wind and dust.”

A rattling breath passes through the room and Wook’s eyes travel its length to to rest upon Jung.

“I don’t think I have greeted you brother.” He adds and in his sweet tone is a sharp edge that makes it clear to Jung his older half brother is yet to forget his betrayal at the battle in Shinju. For a moment he knows not how to answer such avid hostility. Instead however it is lord Im who comes to his rescue.

“Forgive me for not informing you earlier - your highness, the prince of Yoo is currently in need of our protection.”

“Protection?” Wook repeats slowly his unmoving gaze remaining branded upon Jung’s face.

“I’m sure you heard while at the capital -” Lord Im begins.

“Uh - yes, the lecherous brother who has lured out the king’s intended?” Wook frowns. “I did not think you had such courage - Jung - ie…”

“Why not we take this conversation to the study…” Lord Im urges with a hand at Jung’s back and a bow towards Wook. Smiling like an eager peacemaker he proceeds them towards the said study and Wook makes a move to follow him before turning back to Jung at the door.

“You will not earn my trust again brother -” he says in a low voice. “Even if you are branded a traitor to the crown.”

Jung allows a pause to trail off his words before replying.

“Is that you or your insecurity that speaks - hyungnim? Does it bother you that the lords might find me a more favorable choice than once disposed, imprisoned and dubiously titled prince such as yourself?”

Wook clenches his jaw venomously.

“Ah,” he says. “Tell me something - Jungie, did this thought occur to you or the emperor’s rose whispered it in your ear?”

“What are you implying hyungnim?” Jung allows the anger to bleed into his tone instead of the discomfort that Wook’s cold gaze imposes upon him.

“Nothing that hasn’t been implied before,” Wook hisses, curious eyes narrowing. “Put yourself in my position and tell me, would you honestly believe yourself independent of that woman’s schemes?”

“Unfortunately there is no way for you to know.”

“Oh but there is,” Wook steps closer, bowing to whisper words meant only for him. “For I’m going to trust you with a piece of news Jungie, and see in whose ears it ends up.” Jung clenches his jaw and wills himself not to look at the man looming over him. “Princess Gyeonhwagun would die tonight.”

Unwillingly his eyes flicks up into Wook’s and Wook smiles.

“Yes, go and tell that to your rose...”

That being said Wook turns and walks away following after lord Im into the invited study.

**

The falcon comes with the sunset, bearing words hastily scribbled upon a paper torn by sharp talons.

Gyeonhwagun.

Do not fly colors, they are lying in wait. 

It says. The sun had set to worries that she couldn’t lie to rest and the night falls with heavy premonition of a late winter storm on the eastern sky. Seol fusses, ailing, burning and weak but headstrong as she had always been. Clinging to her and refusing to be handed over to any of the affectionate court ladies - she wails and pounds and scratches and whines.

“Leave us,” she bids the ladies in the end. “She seems to get agitated every time someone opens the door.” As if agreeing with her conclusion Seol punches the air with a pudgy fist - looking at the court ladies with menacingly narrowed eyes. “See,” Jang Mi has to bite back a smile at that particular look. “She wants you gone.”

Nakrang chuckles, gesturing her ladies to proceed her and shaking her head, stands up to leave herself.

“She has grown into the very mold of her father,” are her parting words. But then she catches the dark look of gloom on her face. “Whatever is the matter - sister?”

There is genuine concern in her eyes that almost melts her self imposed restrain. But then, there is fear of the unknown halting her hand. She has no idea what unknown card the princess Gyeonhwa holds and what storm it could unleash. All she knew, and believed is that it could not be allowed to be taken into the possession of the enemy. Gyeonhwagun cannot be sacrificed and neither the matter of saving her could be trusted to another. She could not allow someone to come into possession of a card that could essentially be dealt to dispose her king.

Nakrang still lingers at the threshold holding the door half open and a look of contemplation on her face. She waits for an answer and Jang Mi feels only a monetary guilt for using her affections to reach her own ends. She swallows.  

“I’d like to see his majesty,” she says after a pause, the distress bleeding into her tone genuine though not utterly born of the cause she leads Nakrang to believe. “Can I trouble you to write a missive?”

Nakrang shakes her head a faint smile twisting her lips. It still amazes her how different her smile was despite her great likeness to her mother. Nakrang smiled with open joy, instead of veiled motives.

“You want me to invite imperial brother?” She asks playfully. “Uh, I don’t think a missive I’ve written would ever be cherished more…consider it granted. I bid you a good night lady Kang!” There is a spring to her step as Nakrang leaves, and Jang Mi exhales heavily before starting to sing for Seol, rocking her gently in her arms. She is unwilling to think of what Nakrang would think of her, when she realizes that she has been used. She doesn’t want to think what So would think of her.

Seol nuzzles against her throat, settling down for an uneasy nap, her eyes drooping as she fought sleep. Her fever had broken, she thinks with relief, there was a slight dampness to her skin. That was one thing less to weigh on her conscience.

“Omma is sorry,” she mumbles against her soft hair once she had fallen to deep slumber, drooling against her bosom as she slept on, open mouthed. “Omma doesn’t wish to leave Seolie and go.” A faint frown appears between her brows when she lowers the baby into the nest of pillows made at the center of her bed. It was where Seol normally slept, cradled against her. “Omma will be back before Seolie wakes up. Promise.”

**

The moonlight makes the woods look like a kingdom of shadows and the temperature drops with each blast of icy wind. Chun had kept her informed. Therefore Jang Mi knew that he and princess Gyeonhwagun would be moving towards the mountain temple where the former queen Uihwa resided. The events had fallen one after the other, like dice in a well played game. She was certain that what she looked for was either in the position of the princess or she was on her way to retrieve it from where it was kept. Even Chun could not be trusted with the task of extracting it from her.

Secrets often blew air on distrust and the resulting flames only ever ended up reducing well forged ties into ashes. Jang Mi knew that and she had no distrust of Chun. But she feared for his life had he came to possess such a card of value - she could no longer ensure he would survive the game.

Distrust and fear takes her to the woods that night, instead of the shadows she could have commanded or Grand Prince Anjong himself whose help was available to her at the least of notice. Instead she takes it upon herself to take on the killers lying in wait of the princess - one by one.

There is the scent of death in the air and had Wook planned with as a test for Jung’s loyalty, the news of her involvement should not be reported back to him. She learns it from So, from when he saved the princes. She take shelter in the night, in the relative anonymity of the black that she dons and the guise of a man.

The first two fall to long ranged arrows, their expressions of frozen surprise unchanged as they fall. The wind cuts against her cheeks and the snow muffles the sound of her feet. The third comes too close for an arrow and she takes him with a dagger to throat. The blood is splattered across her cheek. But she has no time to wipe it off.

There are sounds of hooves, and soon followed by low voices of Chun and Gyeonhwa as they discuss some bandit attack to the south of the temple. The baritone of the guard answering the soft spoken inquiries of the princess draw close and there is a sting of an arrow in the air - a moment that she delays is a moment too late. Arrows rain one after the other escaping the bows of the men she had no time to take down. Chun springs to action almost immediately, shielding the princess and refuting the arrows. But darker shapes are springing towards the path ahead of them, blocking and cornering them and more are coming.

To her surprise Gyeonhwa pulls out a dagger of her own, slashing through the forearm of a man who tries to hold her captive. It is the last she sees before Jang Mi joins the fight, trying to make sure the men Wook had employed did not outnumber her faithful captain of guard.

Chun’s eyes widens for a moment but good sense stops him before he utters her name. Jang Mi holds his gaze and shakes her head once but firmly, leaving no space for argument. Their blades bleed and drip with blood and the men continues to cut their way towards an unwavering goal.

“Take Gyeonhwa and leave!” She mutters in the flash she takes the man that comes to strike him from behind. “Hurry!”

Gyeonhwa could hold on her own, if not as fast as both of them. She freezes in recognition for a moment when Jang Mi pushes her away from the path of an arrow, and towards Chun.

“Leave!”

The arrow stings against her skin, but she has no time to care for it. Turning around she throws the dagger she had snatched from Gyeonhwa towards the man chasing after them as Chun rides away, gathering speed. Seven, there are still seven of them left.

She could taste blood on her mouth and her shoulder stings. For a flickering moment she thinks of Seol, sleeping soundly miles away from all the blood and death - unaware and safe. She had made a promise.

A low growl vibrates from the back of her throat and she spins around taking two of them with one slash of her blade, and the third man falls to a well aimed elbow. A moral fight would have allowed him to leave alive - but she has secrets to keep. Jang Mi makes it quick and hopes it is painless - but only blood would wash away all traces of her involvement. With a groan she drags herself to where her bow had fallen and aims to the running men - none of them could be allowed to reach Wook with evidence of Jung’s duplicity.

But a scream in the still night air halts her hand.

Gyeonhwa. The last arrow escapes her string and takes with it the last man who had seen her. But failure starts to make its burden known. Distrust - fear - secrets had taken her down. Jang Mi refuses to allow the bitterness win, but it is undeniable that she had made a faulty step. In her want to save everything, in her unwillingness to trust her weakness to another - she had embarked upon an impossible task.

By the time she finds Chun - the enemies are long gone.

“Your grace,” he groans, trying to sit up. There is a bleeding gash across his arm, and another running the length of his calf. “You are injured!”

The words draw her notice back to the ache on her shoulder and tears of pain prick her eyes. “I failed you,” Chun mumbles distastefully. “I deserve to die - your grace.”

“Go to the temple -” She bites out, despite the pain squeezing into her tone. “I wish I could help - I am sorry to have caused you hurt - Lord Park.”

“Your grace -”

“I was wrong not to trust you with my plan - I was wrong not to bring more men. My foolish assumptions cost us princess Gyeonhwa’s safety.”
“Your grace allow me to -”

Biting back a groan she kneels to look into Chun’s eyes, resting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself and make him aware of the burden she places on him.

“Go to the temple - lord Park - heal yourself. Ride out after them. You must retrieve princess Gyeonhwa.”

“But you need -”

“I need to go back to my daughter…” She shakes her head. “There is a promise I must keep.”

“But -”

“She is in possession of a letter that you must extract from her. Lord Park it should not go to hands of Hwangbos or their sympathizers. The letter could endanger his majesty.” She inhales sharply, willing to bear the pain a moment longer. “I am sorry that I kept you in dark for so long. But please…”

“I understand,” Chun bows, cutting off the rest of her apology. “I understand your reasons.”

“Thank you - lord Park.”

“Your grace - you can’t ride with that arm -”

My daughter -” she stands up unsteadily, swaying until sheer will holds her upright. “-is waiting.

**

He had taken pains to arrive only to find her gone. So no longer knows what to feel. The chamber is semi darkened and Seol sleeping soundly, with pillows tucked around her with care. But utterly alone and unobserved. There are beads of perspire on her forehead and a faint frown between her brows as she sucks on three of her fingers thoughtfully. An awry thought settles itself pricking on his conscious - had she been yours, would you leave her so?

He doesn’t hear Nakrang dismissing the ladies and their pleading excuses. They had believed lady Seol was with her mother - the lady had specially advised them to leave as the baby was getting fussy with strangers around - they hadn’t heard her leave - somehow, somewhere they had never thought to check on them again. As if afraid of his reaction his sister takes effort to shut the door after her as quietly as possible.

For a moment he cannot find words. Instead he reaches for Seol and feels her forehead. Her fever has broken, and her breathing sounds normal. He had never touched softer skin - his daughter -  So swallows, his throat tightening. He should have come early, for Seol, how could she ever be reduced to a passing thought? The baby rolls on her belly and grabs his arm, trying to tuck it against her, nuzzling against the back of his palm.

Overwhelmed So bows and touches his mouth to her hair, sweet smelling despite her fever.

“Omma,” mumbles Seol.

He buries his head against Seol instead of rekindling that annoying flicker of fury. Seol did not deserve to be left behind, not when she was so attached to her - not when she thought of her as mother. His child, did not deserve to be discarded by her mother.

The sound of the door jerks him upright and the flicker of fury finally catches up to him.

“You are back, lady Kang?” His tone for a moment is careless in its rage, scathing and burning the silence that follows.

“You are here,” she says after a beat, slowly. “Pyeha…”

“And I find you gone, using a sick child as a cover for your disappearance - leaving with no one to look after her. Anything - could have happened.”

“I meant to come sooner.”

He rises to his feet abruptly, not wishing to see her, or let her see the expression marring his face. So did not wish to say the acidic words on his tongue, though they burned him with an urge to be uttered. They had had enough bitter conversations as it was and it would be unseemly if his sister was listening, or if Seol was to wake up. Instead he clenched his teeth, willing the dark thoughts to go away.

“I’m sure you did.”

“Look at me So!” her voice rings, sharp and salty. “I will not have half veiled accusations.”

He whips around at her tone, beginning to lose the grip on his temper.

“Half veiled?” She says nothing and still stands in the shadows. He takes a step out of spite, wanting to see her face, willing to show the contempt in his and stops short. “Jang -”

Her face is white, splattered across with half dried blood and her teeth gritting together to hold back a moan; blood seeps through the fingers that she clenches against her shoulder, thick and dark.

She ignores him when he moves to steady her and drags herself unsteadily to the side of Seol’s bed, looking down at her as if to assure herself nothing had changed since she left. The last of her energy she spends on easing her heart. She collapses on her knees before he could even reach her. Her eyes on the child, fixed beyond his shoulder when he kneels beside her, clasping his arms around her falling frame. There is a broken arrow buried deep on the back of her shoulder, drenching her dark garments with the blood it draws. When her gaze flicks upto his, they burn with a furious fire.

“Don’t ever imply I don’t care for her!” She says fervently and her eyes turn glassy. “Please…I meant to come sooner.”

So pulls her against him, his mind gone blank. Her hand presses against his mouth when he means to call someone.

“Don’t. Don’t. No one can know,” her breath rasps and words tangle together. “Only Nakrang - no one else.”

“What have you done?”

She looks at him with a painful smile twisting her lips, dripping with sadistic sarcasm.

“I’ve killed people.”

“Soo - yah,”

Her head lolls to the side and her cheek rests against his shoulder.

“No - Jang Mi,” she breathes. “The fool that lost last means to protect you.”

**

Gyeonhwagun.

Do not fly colors, they are lying in wait.

 

So crumples the piece of bloodied paper, tattered by talons of the falcon that might have carried it - willing to crush his stupid brother who had written it instead. Her fingers curl around the material of his sleeve.

“You need to dig out the arrow head.” Her words have turned slurry, her eyes drooping. His heart beats begin to pick up.

“You’ll bleed.” He tells her curtly. Instead he wishes to tell her how foolish she was, how reckless, and utterly irresponsible or simply how afraid it made him, how guilty it felt. But he cannot find words. 

“And burn the wound - it seals shut the blood vessels,” she completes as if he had never spoken. So grits his teeth and her fingers dig into his arm insistently. “Hurry up - please - I don’t wish to -” her breath hitches painfully. “- lose the baby.”

“What would you have done if I didn’t come?” He asks her crossly instead. Wanting to keep her occupied until Nakrang takes matters into her hands and calls the royal physician.

“I called you - you would come. You are my witness.”

“Witness for what?”

“That I never left the princess household. You will spend the night with me. The eighth prince believes you,” Her grip falters and she swallows a shudder of pain. “Hurry up - please.”

Nakrang slips back in, as surreptitiously as she had carried Seol out, carrying - for So’s horror exactly what Jang Mi had required.

“Sister -” he starts disapprovingly. But then Jang Mi’s hand slips completely and he loses the thought. Nakrang reaches for his hand instead.

“You will have time for questions later - brother. No matter how furious you are right now - you do not wish to lose her to your fury.”

So clenches his jaw, swallows and nods, seeing the wisdom in his sister’s words where his own mind had gone painfully numb. She was not longer looking at him, her unfocused eyes staring blankly. Too much blood - she had lost too much blood.

“I will stay the night.” He tells Nakrang. “Have word send to the palace, but do not let them enter.”

“Yes, imperial brother,” Nakrang bows, ever the composed and regal princess. But she hesitates a moment longer and gently lays a hand on his shoulder. “Find it in your heart to forgive her - she’s done it out of love.”

Notes:

There is a little more to this particular phase, but my conscience would not allow me to go on until this chapter turns into a giant of 6K so here I stop the rest will be posted later.
It's 4.4K, as an apology for the delay between my last post and this. I had to go outstation and in these pandemic times it's no less than going to wage a war!
Do share your thoughts and inspire/ speed up the writing process by letting me know you are there waiting and willing to read more. Stay safe and blessed. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 54: Bridge

Summary:

They stand on a bridge between the now and the end - and choices must be made.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The words she wished she had said and the words she wished she hadn’t - those unspoken words had once torn them apart. Like dirt on a mirror they had gathered and ate away slowly into the ties that bound them - slowly that it was never felt, that rotting sense of loss, not until they stood a hand span apart and found neither of them could no longer read the other - could no longer reach out and bridge what had been cracked. If there was ever a thing that could frighten her, it was that moment - it was a crack that she could not mend. It had been so easy to lose him once, she had done it in the span of a breath and regretted till she breathed her last. The scar it left was still raw that she was left watching over her shoulder for the crack to appear, for him to push her away, for the fate to repeat.

And now he watched her with those unreadable eyes, obsidian and cold - he watches her with a bitter judgement of a disappointed dreamer. Jang Mi swallows, the pain that slashes through her is thicker and sharper all at once - stinging than any wound ever would. He had almost accused her of mistreating Seol - he had entertained the possibility - and it hurt, hurt a lot more than she cared to admit.

“You want me to burn it?” He asks then, abrupt and brisk. A jolt of pain flashes through her shoulder blade, reminding her of the pressing need to her attention and her vision flickers in and out of focus. She nods, stiffly.

“After removing the arrowhead.”

It feels like a battle field - one from her memories - she had done it several times, for different men for different reasons. Her father’s lands being the border estates that they were, she never had a loss of injuries to cure. She feels cold.

“Hurry…” her voice trails off.

The first jab of blade against her flesh makes her cry out, her parched throat tearing at the effect. On her back she feels his hand still - a fraction of hesitation - her eyes find his. She cannot find words to assure him of her decision, the agony had dried her of words - instead she hopes that he reads it in her eyes - hopes that they have not yet gone so far. Hopes that her fear had not cracked them again.

Those unreadable eyes bore into hers. They do not belong to her So, but to Gwangjong - that emperor of her red - washed vision. Knowing his lonely, painful end only makes her eyes prick with fresh tears; a gasp escaping her parted lips.

It breaks something inside him, something that holds him back from reaching out to her - or something thaws around him that keeps her from reaching out to him - that faint breath of air. He pulls her against him blindly, hard muscles enveloping her in their warmth. He tucks her against him, her head on the crook of his neck, her arms clasped around him.

“Hold me,” he breathes against her hair. “ You must not make a sound.”

She nods, blinded in pain and pressed against him. Her jaws locked to keep in the scream she is certain would come. “Hurt me when it is hard to bear.”

Those words were familiar somehow, her hazy brain supplies. He had said so before, so long ago - it was -

“So!” She utters through clenched teeth as the tip of his blade rips into her - he doesn’t stop. The pain twists, knots and tightens and burns - burns so bad. She muffles a scream against his collar bone. The blade moves deeper and twists - clearing the path for the arrowhead. Her teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder. His hands don’t waver.

She feels the blood trickling down her back - fresh and warm and fast, once the intruding metal blocking its flow is gone. Her head reels and her mouth tastes of blood - that she had drawn from her own and his. Still he makes no move to push her away, to ease the pain she inflicts upon him. Instead he begins to heat the blade. She feels lightheaded.

“You must stay awake!” His voice feels distant, washing over her in ripples. “Stay awake!”

“You were looking at me like I was a stranger…” she mumbles her words mere puffs of air. “A stranger who would hurt your child given the chance. You…” her hand slips and she realizes her palm is sticky with blood. “I killed people -” she observes, “I did it for you and you almost called me a - traitor. Don’t pity me!” She tries to push him off, tries not to look at those cold eyes. “I don’t want your pity. I - I was bleeding and you wanted answers!”
”You want her…” her words slur, her vision blurs. “Should I go - should I just give up?” She looks into his eyes searchingly, selfish as she is - bitter and ugly on the inside - she wants him - wants him to want her. Her - not her future self or his past lover - her, the girl who grew up with him.

One of his hands come up to crawl across her cheek, fingers drawing raw, possessive trails across her cold flesh.

“You cruel thing,” he mutters, dipping his head and pressing his forehead against hers. “You cruel - cruel thing.”

“Says the cruelest man I’ve ever known…” her mouth twists, bitter yet at peace. “We are cubs of beasts, cruelty in our blood…”

“Once I dreamed that you gave up,” his voice drops, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the memory those words invoked. “You gave up and asked me to lie - asked me to lie that I - that I love you.”
She holds that breath, close to him and sharing his exhale. He had never spoken of it before, those visions that the possession by that wicked spirit had evoked in him - those manifestations of his fears.

“Did you lie then?”

His exhale shudders.

“I couldn’t - for all the life in me I couldn’t speak - I cannot lie - not to you. I cannot say I love you and let you think I do not mean it,” he swallows, his grip on her tightens. “You are not allowed to give up,” he declares then. “Fight for me - even if the fight is with me. Fight and do not give up.” His lips brush against hers reverently, suddenly soft and needy and hesitant. “Nobody ever fought for me. Nobody did.” The blade of the dagger glows red and she shudders. “Stay awake.”

**

“His majesty is in princess residence, visiting lady Kim from…”

Wook raises a hand bringing the speech of the spy to an abrupt halt, brows furrowed and mouth twisted. Exactly how far was his brother planning to take this game?

The spy looks at him cautiously, as if trying to read his expression and is startled when the doors that seal their conversation is thrown open by the Queen. Yeon Hwa looks deranged - pale and worn, one look at her composition her brother orders the spy gone, with another flick of his fingers and the man makes himself scarce instantly.

Wook does not stand in greeting to the Queen as the formality demands, but instead stares at her contemplatively. Unaccompanied and looking ill his sister had come a long way from her haughty magnificence.

“Where is mother - I wish to see her,” says Yeon Hwa, casting a look around the study, her paranoid eyes lingering on long shadows at the corners.

“Lady mother has gone on retreat after the recent bout of illness your majesty. With her old friends - the Im clan at their country house. I’m back after visiting her. If it is not a pressing matter your message will be delivered the next time I go…”

“The Ims?” Yeon Hwa notes. “The Ims - the Ohs and who else? Who else have you rounded up this time?”

“”Are you actually curious - sister?”

Something flickers across Yeon Hwa’s face.

“I need to see mother.” She repeats. “Summon her if you must.”

Wook frowns.

“What is this about?” He asks. “Has the absence of the - guest - made you troubled sister?” He takes care to choose his words, never to reveal a hint of the spirit he dealt with lest their conversations were intercepted by the shadows. “Perhaps you should take some calming tea.”

Yeon Hwa fiddles with her thumbs, the spirit seemed to have absorbed her strength of will that she looked frail and so unlike herself. It makes Wook unsettled for a brief moment as he wonders what the capacity of an entity was that could make such a shell out of his once razor sharp sister.

“She looked through my thoughts,” Yeon Hwa speaks in a whisper, words leaving her in shudders. “And I saw memories - things I’ve not understood before. What was she searching for?” She muses aloud, hands clasped together - words stringing and tangling into incoherent clusters. “She wanted to know why it went wrong…”

“Why what went wrong?” Wook preys for comprehension. Yeon Hwa jerks at the interruption and blinks up at him.

“The curse,” she replies. “The curse that killed the crown prince.”

“Lady Kang blocked it - did she not?”

“That’s not what she thinks - she thinks differently. Mother - only mother can answer. I need to know what happened to that girl - that girl who came with the young lord of Kangs.”

“Hold yourself together sister,” Wook speaks with irritation. “This is not the moment to reflect on such unnecessary things. My spy brings troubling news.” His frown deepens as his thoughts turn back to the matter at hand. “Lady Kang is with child. I think it is time to let the lords know.”

**

Her hands are white and bloodless, clammy and cold. He feels for a pulse and she covers his hand with one cold palm.

“I think now is a good time to lie…” Her voice is faint but tinted with bitter amusement. He chooses not to reply, instead leans to press his forehead against hers, breathing out a shuddering exhale. Her fingers threads through his hair with a familiarity that makes his heart brim. “Thank you,” she says. “For not lying,” she elaborates when he blinks up at her. “Even in desperation I would not have wanted that. A lie would not have mended anything.”

“A lie would not mend anything.” He repeats, pointedly. “What is it that you wanted to hide from everyone?”

Her inhale crowds in her throat, burning - strangling. Tears prick her eyes.

“I don’t know…” she confesses. “I fear - I fear it would ruin everything.” And she allows herself to gulp down the knot that ties the words to her fears and allows her hands to shake - her fingers to clench at him. “I cannot lose you - I cannot watch your ruin.”

Then she proceeds to tell him about the secret letter the eighth prince seeks. Choosing her words carefully she tells him how she traced it to Hyejong and then to his daughter. And now that Gyeonhwagun was taken - now that they had her -

“He could not have known,” So tells her, a lazy hand stroking through her hair. “That conversation you overheard between my lord father and General Park could never reach him. He knows not it was in Hubeakje. He could not think it is in possession of Gyeonhwa.”

“But she could tell them -”

“She could,” he agreed. “I have done everything I could to ensure her loyalty. But I think either way she chooses to go, we’ve lost one move to them.” He looks at her and finds her contemplative look endearing. “Wook would know of the princes - and that his spirit has failed in her mission. He would no longer be fooled.”

He finds as he speaks that the realization does not burden him as he had imagined it would, instead the prospect feels - thrilling. Perhaps, he wonders, he did indeed nurse a blood lust.
”You will kill them?” Her voice is small but void of judgement that he fears.

“If they chose to stand with the wrong people,” he remarks darkly. “But I would give them that opportunity, that right to chose. I will open this game.”

“Then you would need a pawn,” she reflects. “A reason to divide them.”

“No,” he interjects thoughtfully. “Not a pawn. I would have a queen.”

Notes:

This is an interim sort of a chapter. Forgive me if it doesn't hold your attention much. But this bridge is necessary to cross to the core of the story and the loose ends that I wish to tie in the next few chapters. Also this is a continuing part from the chapter before.
Hope you enjoyed and I am forgiven for the delay. I'm stationed at a new place of work which has the worst ever form of network. So in the coming months, updates will not be as quick and plenty. Please stay with the story though, we have only a little more distance to cover before the destination.
Thank you for reading! Do share your thoughts!
Stay healthy wherever you are! :-)

Chapter 55: Precious

Summary:

The weakest of all could end up being the thread that cuts skin.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Her father had once said, in the passing, in between forgotten phrases of a long lost conversation - that battles leave no soul untouched . Gyeonhwa learns the wisdom of those words as the light dawns over the skies in bleeding hues of shell pink, silver and pastel blue - the skies she had dreamed of during the days at the temple or before that when she was a daughter of a king - this here, is the home of her heart. 

But, she realizes with a heavy heart and dread weary and pricking on her psyche - the Ims were no longer standing on the same side as she was. The Ohs too. And several others. The war is brewing and her family is tearing apart into factions following different standards. The heartbreaking thing is that she couldn’t call them back. 

Gyeonhwa drags in a lungful of chilly air, with notes of spring spicing the frost, and tries to contain the truth she must keep to herself. Her uncles, brothers of her mother and cousins of her father - cousins of her own - all of them were united under the impression that the two princes were killed. They had drawn their blades to avenge a death that has not taken place. To dispose the man who had actually saved their lives; they had taken the side of the one who had instigated their execution. 

Her family was blinded by misinformation. And now, the princess realized how the Kangs and Haes would have fallen to the sugar trap of her lord uncle. He had always had a way with words, perhaps he always had sinister motives too. It was only her young uncle Jung who had stopped her from revealing the truth. He was right too - she could not expose the emperor in his schemes but still - Gyeonhwa swallowed, trying to keep down the bubbling unease. It seemed that her eighth uncle already knew what she hid from them. 

It is the third day since her arrival - to put the abduction in softer terms - at the Im household that he seeks her out and invites her out to ride - enjoy the morning air he says and a surprise he had for her. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and Gyeonhwa can’t help but reflect to the times when he had bounced her on his arms or read her stories from his personal library. Yet his eyes are cold beneath the crinkles, his smile never thawing them. It makes her cringe to think how gullible she might have been.

They head eastward into the rising sun in its blinding glory of reds and golds. They remind her of the imperial standard, the stripes of reds and golds splashed across the sky. It is not of her imperial uncle that she thinks, instead the reminder of the imperial colors bring to mind the young captain of guard and their abrupt parting at the forest several nights before. 

She does not realize it until her uncle brings it to her notice, that she is staring fondly in the direction of the palace - all the darkness that she wished to left behind. 

“Do you miss it?” Wook asks softly, “the life you had - the life you could have had?”

“I did not understand you - my lord uncle,” she tears her eyes away, not daring to expose her longing. There is a look of calculation on her uncle’s face, a look that makes her feel as if she was being evaluated - like a fortress under siege - he was trying to gauge out her weakness and break through from there. 

“You were a princess, Gyeonhwagun gonjunim,” he explains kindly, as always a man of well spoken intellect. “A daughter of a king - a wife to a prince. You could have been a queen.” It is only in the latter part of his sentence does he reveal a trace of venom. Gyeonhwa furrows her brows slightly, startled that the conversation had taken such a note. 

She had never thought of herself as a bride of the emperor, nor perceived the emperor as anything but her uncle, the preposition that she could have, that she should have explored the opportunity and pushed to become a woman of power felt - dirty .    

“It wasn’t a marriage,” she echos the words of her imperial uncle in reply. He had told her in no uncertain terms before dissolving their marriage that she had always meant a daughter to him. “It was a compromise made for my safety. Wouldn’t it be shallow of me to want more?”

“Such a sweet thing you are,” Wook clicks his tongue. “You wouldn’t even know when you’ve been played as a pawn in someone else’s game for power and not given your share of it.” He looks towards the sunrise, his eyes unflinching and hard. “His majesty may have had your interest at heart, but the marriage to you have elevated his position at the time. He was the unnamed heir of your father. But when it came to return the favour he choose to elevate a woman of his own family instead.”

“A woman of his own family?”

“His majesty will marry Lady Kang - she is to become a queen on par with my lady sister. He fools no one by calling her lady Kim, we both know that is not true.” He gives her a meaningful look, that encompasses all the exchanges back in the snowy terrains of Shinju. “He only wishes to dish out more power to the Gyeongju Kims at the same time.”

Gyeonhwa shifts on her mount, her mare feels her agitation and neighs softly, she has to pat it with an absentminded hand to find her calm. There is an undercurrent to this conversation, she feels it with her astute mind horned by years spent at court, but she cannot pinpoint what her uncle is after, therefore Gyeonhwa decides to bite back her words and wait, until the man himself exposes his intention.

“Your maternal uncle, the Lord Im is enraged,” he informs her. “And rightly so, it is a honor that should have been yours. With the nation now without a crown prince - how much more powerful will his majesty make the fallen house of Silla - give them a prince and the lady the title of grand - queen?”

“He could always invest her as Empress,” Gyeonhwa hears herself speaking. “The nation does not have one now.”

Wook takes the barb with grace. If he flinches at the reminder that his sister never had the title vested upon her, it is only for a passing moment. They both know that the Hwangbos had presssured the Emperor into matrimony and there had never been conjugal peace between the couple to speak of. The Hwangbo Queen had always been hanging by the thread of her sickly son, a son who was no more. Gyeonhwa sees the appeal that her uncles see in the opportunity. It makes bile rise to her throat. The emperor is almost fifteen years her senior and her uncle. 

“I have no wish of becoming a queen,” she tells instead. “You need not take up arms on my behalf Lord Uncle,” she presses on trying to be pleasant. “Nor does Lord Im. I’ve never seen his majesty as anything but a beloved uncle.”

“Surely you do not anymore?” Wook probes gently. “Not after the brutal end of your brother and cousin, surely?”

It is her turn to flinch, and her knuckles tighten on the mane of her mount. The mare neighs again, slightly riffled. 

“It is not my place to keep grudges with his majesty,” she chooses finally. “He is chosen by the heavens, his words are law.”

They had reached the eastern border of the Im lands from where beginnings of a forest scattered further eastward where the ground dipped and rose high above them in to the peak of a dark green mountain. Gyeonhwa turns her mount and faces her uncle who had not replied for a long moment. What she sees in his face has her numb for a moment. The man is smiling, in a cold, lazy manner - as if she was but a fly in his ointment, a little hurdle that he has to tackle and waste his time on. 

“Lord Uncle?”

“Oh will you have it that way - gonjunim?” He tilts his head, perceiving her as if she had been a petulant child. “I see, I will have to give you that surprise anyway. I hoped perhaps, we would find some other common ground of interest. But no - my first impression of you was more accurate than I would have liked.”

Now that they’ve crossed the valley towards the foot of the mountain, she could see the scattered camps of a small army, bearing sigil of the Hwangbos and the standard of the queen - flower and the tiger. 

Before she had noticed them the soldiers from the camp had noticed their arrival and a few were approaching them - dragging with them a prisoner with his hands tied above his head into a wooden bar placed upon his shoulders. The man she longs but hopes she would never see on these lands - the captain of imperial guard - the confidante of the lady Kang - Chun.

Gyeonhwa draws in a rattled breath, snapping back to glare at Wook, who smiles in return, rather sinisterly.

“Your change of heart does not surprise me, dear niece,” he says. “For I know the man who brought it about.”
”How could you - how,” she stutters. “He is the captain of imperial guard - this is treason!”
”We are at war Gyeonhwa,” he tells her firmly. “What is treason is decided at the end of it, by the one who is left. Apparently, it is doubtful whether your beloved would live to see that…”

“Please - uncle,” she swallows. 

“Lord Im will be highly disappointed Gyeonhwa,” he tells her, as if he was admonishing her of mischief. “You could have been a queen and it is this man you chose to throw it away for - a mere soldier, a slave brought over from a foreign country - with no name or linage - the guard dog of a witch?”
This once she has no words for him and Chun doesn’t look at her, but she could see the fury that radiates from him. He would kill you if you untie him, she thinks but then she knows it is not a wise thing to express. 

“Let me ask you again, Gyeonhwa, are the princes truly dead?” There is no more pretence in the tone of her uncle as he finally comes to the crux of their conversation. “Or were they used to buy your loyalty?”

He knows, she thinks, no matter how careful her imperial uncle had been, his ruse had been discovered. And she knows he would not wish his secret to be kept at the cost of Chun’s life but then Chun catches her eye - abruptly - for a fleeting moment and jerks his head. 

“Yes,” she says instead. “They are dead.”

“Kill him!” Wook says airily and turns his mount around to return. With ice in her veins Gyeonhwa screams at him. 

“No!”
”You leave me no choice, niece,” he tells her over his shoulder. 

“You want a reason,” she says quickly. “A reason to dethrone the emperor - I shall give you that reason.”

Wook halts, and watches her with mildly curious eyes. 

“Uh?” He says.

“But only I can retrieve it, and I will. But you must allow the captain of guard to accompany me.”
”You must take me for a fool - dearest,” Wook tells her, smiling widely now that he had the upper hand. This was not what he hoped, but, maybe the heavens were favoring him, this was more than he had hoped for. Gyeonhwa, so it had always been with Gyeonhwa - he had indeed been a fool. 

“Bring it to me and he shall be released.” 

“I will not leave without him.”

“I will kill him if you do not.”

“There is no guarantee that you won’t once I’m gone, or once I’ve done my part. I do not believe you - uncle.”

“I will give you a companion and make a promise on keeping your captain alive. It is the best you can get Gyeonhwa, he will die now - or you have a chance of saving him - what do you prefer?”

“If anything happens to him - you will never see it - I swear.”

Wook bows in agreement. 

“Three days, gonjunim, ride as if your life depends on it. Oh wait,” he smiles indulgently. “It really does, doesn’t it?”

**

The ladies come on silent, cautious feet and lays out exotic robes of a hue so deep and forbiddingly closer to that of blood and a blue so dark that bleeds into inky skies of midnight. They are worked in fine threads of gold, the peacock of Kangs done in such splendor along the seam of the full skirt that it looks more like a Phoenix. Jang Mi wonders if it is anything but an armor made in splendid color, not much different to the one she had stitched once upon a time with hopes of marrying a different man and had worn on the eve of a battle to go to another. The recollection makes her wince and clutch a hand over the place where her baby grows. She had cursed the queen and taken the life of a child - however unknowingly, and now, her own child would walk the knife edge of a perilous political game. 

The trousseau fills her with bitter sense of forbidding, the silk, the jewels, the very air make her throat tighten. He had almost married her once, almost - and it had all gone very wrong since. That bridal dress was the symbol of everything that had once broken her heart.

The ladies were beginning to give her looks, she had been standing at the mirror for too long. Jang Mi watches them from the corner of her eyes wondering how many of them had ulterior motives shielded behind their downcast eyes. She had to speak to them, now or later - had to dispel the musings on her health - had to - 

“My lady,” one of the known court ladies, from the household of the Grand princess, comes in, head bowed in deference. “His royal highness, the grand prince Anjong.”

Baek Ah is dressed for court, in his wine colored robes with the royal house’s insignia, and an amused smile curling his lips. He holds out a hand for her. 

“Cousin,” he says, “ready to enter the court?”

His enthusiasm makes her swallow and he frowns slightly before turning to the ladies crowded around. 

“Leave,” he tells them soft but insistent. “You are crowding the room, her ladyship can barely breathe.”

“What is bothering you?” he asks her once they are gone. “Soo - yah?”

Her fingers on his hand tightens. This man had been a brother to her during these last few months, and all along the life she remembered of Soo. Jang Mi wondered for a moment why Soo had not trusted him with Seol, why he was so easily overlooked when she had been looking for her options of escape. 

“I’m afraid,” she chooses him now, in a heartbeat. “If it doesn’t go well - if - If I fail - would you promise to care for my child? Would you -”

He holds her trembling hand between his larger, warmer hands. 

“You don’t have to ask,” he promises and then waits for a moment sorting his words. “I’d guard him with my life.”

“Baek Ah - nim,” 

“I meant it when I called you family. It was not simply for the sake of hiding you. You are one of our own, a lady of Kim household, Gyeongju will stand behind you always -”

“Thank you,” she cuts him off, overwhelmed by how easily he offers to stand for her cause. Baek Ah smiles, unguarded and genuine unlike the courtiers she was familiar with. “Your brother would have been proud,” he tells her abruptly reminding her that he was on friendly terms with Seo Kyung. “Shall we then, mama ?”

He takes her to court and the court ladies fall into step behind them. For all the while they keep walking, Baek Ah never leaves her hand. Jang Mi is glad for it, for the doors that open admitting them inside are the carved wooden doors from her nightmare, where she had seen not the emperor but her son seated on the throne. She has to gulp back the acid of that recollection, the bitter, lonely boy - king on the dragon throne as she comes to stand before the emperor in all his regal glory.

He smiles at her and stands up in greeting to the disapproving murmurs of court. 

“Pyeha,” the grand prince Anjong bows low. “The Gyeongju Kims are honored by your majesty’s benevolence. Allow me to present my cousin lady Kim to the court.”

“Pyeha,” speaks up a minister. “Forgive this official’s boldness but this cannot be. The Gyeongju Kims are already in - laws with your imperial majesty, through the grand princess Nakrang. The grand prince Anjong is the commander of shadow forces, another marriage - that to the royal house itself - so much power centered in one clan is perilous Pyeha!”

“The Parks of Pyeongsan are in agreement with the imperial decree,” General Park who was present in court instead of his adopted son after a long time, spoke up as the minister’s voice died out. “It is necessary that the power of the inner court is balanced instead of a single Hwangbo queen holding all the authority. A heir - less emperor is a collapsing temple -”

“Lord Park,” a minister from the rival Kims exclaims. “Do not speak so brazenly, one might mistake you to be threatening the throne!”

“His majesty is aware of my intentions,” replies General Park, “I have always been a man of few words and honest intentions. Flowery speech has never been my forte.”

So allows them to debate, waiting, biding his time. Until - finally,

“There is no doubt that a heir is needed,” it is Wook who gives in to the argument of the Parks. He comes alone but around him So could see the slight shift in those rallying behind his banner. The Ims, Ohs, Songs and perhaps the Parks from Suncheon. He frowns. “But can a woman who indulges in witchcraft produce a heir to take up the throne?”

A lull falls over the court and the courtiers shift uncomfortably. Those closest to the emperor bows low, feeling the waves of fury coming off him. It is grand prince Anjong who speaks. 

“Are you accusing my cousin - sister of witchcraft, eighth brother?” 

“Your cousin sister?” Wook sounds pleasantly surprised. “Not at all, thirteenth brother, it is the lady who stands beside you that I accuse of witchcraft. The lady who is not your cousin, but the adoptive cousin of his majesty - lady Kang!”

A hushed hum of whispers rise with his words. Wook looks around at the courtiers. “It is the clear words of my late father, his imperial majesty, that a woman who indulges in dark arts cannot enter the sacred inner palace, let alone be the mother of the crown prince. Any child of hers is tainted by the wicked spirits she employs.”

“In the words of our sacred father, no one will accuse the king’s woman without proof,” the emperor draws out slowly. “It is not the Gyeongju Kims who proposed the marriage, unlike the Hwangbos.” He continues, shooting a dark look at Wook. “I’ve suffered the loss of crown prince Hyeohwa greatly and it was not your sister who offered me comfort. I am indebted to lady Kim for she brought me solace. And what do you have against the word of Grand Prince Anjong, Grand Princess Nakrang and myself, other than your word - eighth brother? What proof you tend to support your claim?”

“Where is lady Kang then? My lady sister cannot be belittled thus -”

“Lady Kim is with child,” the emperor speaks over him, drowning the rest of Wook’s words. “My heir will receive his due respect. You will not raise groundless suspicions against my woman.”

“Pyeha -”

“Lady Kim is to be invested Noble Queen Hyeon-Jeong, of Gyeonju Kim clan.” The emperor decrees, unmoving and uncaring of the chaos at court. “The child she bears is sacred and the heir of the dragon - anyone who conspires against them, does so at the pain of committing high treason, a crime against throne.” 

It is Anjong who bows in acceptance while Jang Mi stands numb for a moment. In the fleeting pause that follows their eyes meet. That irretrievable move has been made. So continues unfazed. 

“Lady Hae Seol the imperial ward is hereby adopted into the imperial household as a daughter of Noble Queen Hyeon - Jeong. She is hereby bestowed with the title, first princess and the name of the reigning house; Wang.” 

She knows it is all but a move towards unavoidable bloodshed, but still she cannot help the happiness that fills her with warmth. It feels unreal, the words that wash off her. The title had meant nothing, but Seol - the fact that she would be her mother in the real sense, nothing could have meant more. 

She kneels before her eyes brim over, it is an emotion that she would keep from those vipers waiting to swallow her. 

“Your grace is immeasurable - Pyeha…” her words shake and she swallows thickly. Please, she prays to the heavens. Let this joy last. 

He comes down the steps leading to the throne to rise her up, an statement on its own. His hands clasp around her with a gentleness that makes her teary. 

“You must not kneel,” he whispers full of adoration. “Never to me, never again. We shall stand together - you and I.”

Notes:

Ah, need time to breathe, will edit later.
Do share your thoughts, leave me some inspiration!
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 56: Cusp

Summary:

They live in the cusp between war and peace holding their breath.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Hyeon Jeong is clad in white as an ode to the woman she had been once, she still is in distant, hazy memories; as an ode to his first love. Hae Soo stares back at her from the mirror the court ladies hold up, standing in her white robes - circling the abyss back to the place where she had left them both heart broken and went on a foolish chase for a shelter that did not exist where she sought it. 

 

Jang Mi searchers for herself in the eyes of a stranger and sees it in her look - out of place on large, innocent eyes of Hae Soo, staring at her through them is a woman who knows that only power of her own would keep her loved ones safe. So now that the circle has come back to its beginning, she is no longer a woman who would run from the storm. She had watched herself, clad in wedding attire before, after sending her lover to wed another woman in the name of Goryeo. She had returned a different woman to atone for decisions she was too afraid to make that time around.

 

Jang Mi spreads out her arms, allowing the ladies to slip on the outer robe of wine red and closes her eyes for a moment reminiscing - daring - 

 

“What is it that you wish to see?” She is startled by the question and the voice that poses it. Her eyes snap open to find the court ladies had stepped back and had their heads bowed, leaving the path clear for their monarch. 

 

It is unexpected and unprecedented for the emperor to see her before the investiture, before their official marriage had received the validation of the imperial court. With one night still left before the auspicious day, had Ji Mong been there he would have called it an ill omen for them to meet. She cares a little, for in her heart she had been long married and she does not require the sanction of a few haughty ministers - but then - the ominous feeling from before is yet to desert her, that sinking reminder that she had almost married him once, hangs over her heavily. She doesn’t look at him, except for the glimpse that she catches in the mirror. 

 

So comes to stand behind her and drags the wine red silk over her white sleeves, adjusting the outer robe on her shoulders; a menial task that does not befit his station. The ladies turn their gazes away from that abundant display of intimacy. 

“Hmm?” He hums against her ear, reminding her that his previous question had gone unanswered. His breath tickles against her ear and his hands remain on her shoulders. 

“What your majesty sees when you look at me, I wish to see that,” she tells him, anchoring herself to the traces of her own that she finds in her eyes. I wish to see myself, she swallows the thought. I wish you to see - me. A wistful thought she knows, for it is the punishment for what she had done - she may remain forever with the face she had obtained through a darker channel. 

He spins her around, a hand curling under her chin bringing her gaze up to meet his, against her reservations. 

 

“Then you are looking in the wrong place -” he tells her, his voice deliciously low, before dipping his head to press a kiss against her lips. 

 

Heavy frame of the mirror clutters against the floor when it slips from the grip of a startled court lady, Jang Mi feels laughter bubbling against the back of her throat. The emperor looks over her shoulder with an annoyed expression. 

“Leave us,” he bids as an afterthought. 

The ladies cannot scarce themselves fast enough, they fumble and scatter as quickly as politely possible and leaves the door shut behind them.

“My sister is not diligent enough in training her ladies,” he adds, “or was that deliberate?”

Jang Mi swallows the bubbles of laughter and finds his slightly crooked smile in reply rather endearing. 

“Your majesty is not supposed to be here,” she tells him. “Grand Princess Nakrang is within her rights, if she had instructed the ladies to break up any possible -” He kisses her then, swallowing the rest of her words before they had half formed in her head. Deepening the kiss when her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise. She had half thought he only meant to disperse the ladies so that they could talk freely, but instead she tastes the need that fuels him, the yearning with which he holds her to himself. She returns the passion on equal folds, reaching with trembling fingers to cup his jaws and climb across his cheeks. 

She wishes that she was not so well versed in reading him, or that she was wistful enough to ignore the fear that rises up in her throat. The fervour of that kiss makes her pause.   

“Pyeha…” he pulls back, when she calls his name and drags a thumb across his lower lip. “What -”

He catches that hand in his and presses an open mouthed kiss on her palm. 

“Will you come with me, on a stroll outside?” 

“But -”

“The New Year is almost here and I wish to see the lanterns.”

“So -”

He brushes another kiss over her knuckles and tightens his grip on her hand. It is so unlike him that she almost snatches back her hand. Her skin sears where his mouth had touched. 

“Come,” he says. “It won’t take long. The shadows will follow, no need to worry about safety.”

This time she hears the urgency in his tone, reads the troubles brewing within his eyes and her own palm covers his upon her hand. He looks as if he had awoken from a nightmare, the ghosts of which still lingered upon his subconscious. She touches his face to reassure her own mind as she sorts through her words. 

“Allow me to brush your hair,” she says in the end, when he burrows a cheek into her palm. “Your majesty can’t leave the palace in imperial robes.” 

He watches her startled for a moment before nodding. She leads him by hand to sit as she unties his hair, removes the golden pin and runs her fingers lightly across his scalp. He sighs, his eyes fluttering closed.  

“Are you tired, love?” 

He doesn’t reply for a moment. 

“I’m afraid of sleeping,” when he replies his voice is barely a whisper. “I’m afraid of waking up a different man.”
Her hand with the comb stills half way and she comes around to look at him, kneeling by his side so that she could peer closer and note every crease of exhaustion marring his face.

“I’m afraid she’s concur me when my control slips - that I won’t be able to hold on.”

“You wish to see the lanterns,” she repeats softly, the words he had offered her before. They taste bitter and prickles against her eyes, blurring her vision. The realization comes from the recollection of her own memories, she had once stolen a moment like that, thinking it was the last before the ending. “You think it’ll be the last time.”

Her heart clenches painfully when she hears herself uttering those words. It was the goodbye that she had missed in those nightmares of hers, where her son was crowned a boy king. She had been living these days under the disillusion that she had altered that fate. “You think she will - that eventually she will -”

“I will see your son being made the crown prince - you don’t have to -”

It is she who steals his words then, desperate to feel his warmth against her lips. 

“No,” she mutters between their lips. “It means nothing. Nothing. Nothing.” She doesn’t allow him to interrupt her. “Please -” she says, “you cannot do this to me.”

“Forgive me,” he bows over her, touching her forehead with his. “I shouldn’t have done this to you - I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.” His fingers wave into her hair, tightening, holding her to him. “But I was lonely.”

She takes both of his hands in hers when she draws back, pressing her mouth reverently to both his palms. 

“It isn’t your fault. It never was,” she looks up at him in silent insistence. “I won’t let her take you from me.”

“They say it’s an old curse,” he tells her softly. “It worried my lord father to death. It brought an early end to two kings before.

“The wolf maiden…” her voice trails off when chills crawl their way down her spine. “My Aunt she used to -” 

He shudders at the mention of the story. In his eyes she could see the old demons stirring awake, creeping up through the shadows of better times the memories of that woman wearing wolf skins, of her blood drenched hands and beating drums. 

“It is her, didn’t you know?” He asks her, an absentminded hand running through her hair. “The Wolf maiden. My father married her because he wanted a way to save Mu Hyungnim from an early death -”

“Battle wounds,” her memory supplies her with information. “So the curse; was it cast by the dead sister of my aunt of Ryu? His majesty Tae jo’s first wife.”

He nods.

“Concubine Kang has revived it. Somehow. It didn’t affect me before.”

“She died for that -”

“She will see it to the end,” he says.

“No!” Her own voice frightens her when it rises. “I will not allow her.” He opens his mouth to contradict but she gathers him in her arms and holds him to her heart, not letting him utter those devastating words. “I won’t allow her. Not you - not you. She can’t take you.”

“You are warm,” he mutters softly, almost sleepily, burrowing into her bosom where she holds him. She strokes his hair in a motherly fashion, overwhelmed and trembling.

“Stay the night,” she implores. “I will help you sleep.”

“You shouldn’t -” he tries to pull away. “It’s not safe.”

“Stay,” she says sternly. “Nothing shall happen.”
**

Gyeonhwa is terrified. The path they had taken ends in a cliff, a twisted tunnel down which leads the way to the valley below. The scattered remains of HuBaekje would be found once they get down and so will her father’s hard kept secret. They, she and the spy that watched over her had camped the night on the hilltop and she cannot sleep. The wind seems to howl with the voices of fallen men, the war songs of a kingdom in ruins. She realizes why the time spent in Hubaekje weighed heavy on her father’s mind - that unfamiliar landscape and its haunting emptiness - the broken traces of civilization left behind by the war - crept up upon her and clawed at her soul. 

Her people had stolen the life of a nation here and now, if she does not get blood on her hands, her own foolishness will lead to the ruin of another. Gyeonhwa swallows thickly, giving up entirely on any pretence of sleep. Instead she clutches at the cloak she had used to wrap around her against the wind and inside the folds of rough fabric reaches for the dagger strapped against her ankle. 

It is a sin to take a life. But the burden of ending her uncle’s reign is too much to bear. Gyeonhwa is no fool to begin with, she knows that the spy had his own set of instructions. The heavy, silent man had not exchanged a word in excess of what their mission required. She was certain that her eighth uncle had impressed upon him in no uncertain terms that he was to kill her once what they sought was obtained. 

She will not allow him that satisfaction.

Hot tears prickle against her eyes as she comes to a decision. To serve the throne is to lose even the fragment of a fate she had with Lord Park, to ascertain in a way that she would never see him again. But Gyeonhwa knew the duty she had towards the man who had saved her brothers from a death trap - saved her own life from wasting away at the hands of Khitan. Given the choice Chun would have chosen the same. 

She tucks the cloak around her shoulders and rises soundlessly. Feet agile and soundless on the frozen, dry earth. Her only chance was to take the heavy warrior as he slept. She looms over him, clammy grip slippery on the hilt of the dagger, hand trembling as she raised it higher. She had to go for the throat - the softest and most defenseless point in human anatomy. It felt barbaric nevertheless and bile rose to her throat - as she watched pulse pounding beneath his skin - at the thought of blood that would be spilled. 

Fingers swathed around her wrist however, before she took another step, holding her immobilized with a grip as fast as iron. Another hand clasped over her mouth before the scream had built itself at the back of her throat. 

“Don’t,” a voice breathes in her ear. “No need to taint your hands.”

The frosty air that she had inhaled burns inside her lungs, unable to find its way back outside as she freezes. Recognition sparks in her mind through the rest of her feels numb and her limbs heavy. The night is suddenly full of movement, of men who up until that moment were nothing more than shadows under the starlight. 

Hands on her shoulders turn her around until she is no longer facing her travelling companion and press her into the scent of a familiar embrace. 

“Don’t look,” Chun’s voice is soft as he leads her away from the scene swarming with shadows. She stares at him in equal parts of terror and awe, trying to distinguish the expression on features softened by blue starlight. 

“How - what -” she stammers. The dagger slips and clutters on the ground. Her mouth is bitter with a betrayal her mind is to numb to acknowledge. She tries to swallow it away, the knot that ties itself tighter and tighter when she tries to breathe. Chun lowers himself to pick up her dagger and takes her hand to return it. 

“A shadow is never caught,” he tells her. “Unless one willingly allows the enemy a small victory.”
”You allowed them to capture you -!” She seethes, repeating his words. 

Chun bows. 

“I was ordered to follow you - princess.”

“You allowed them to torture you!”

He looks into her eyes then, his own pair flickers in the starlight. 

“Forgive me for causing your highness to see that,” he says slowly. “My lord had ordered me to remain until the identity of the spy is found.”

“Spy -?”

“Did you not realize your highness that the Eighth Prince knows too much of our secrets?”

“He knew of you and me -” Gyeonhwa swallows, her cheeks suddenly hot against the cool night breeze. “When I’ve never - when I’ve -”

“And he has learned of Lady Kang’s child ahead of imperial announcement.”

“How -”

“Because one among us had all along been feeding him with information.”

 

Notes:

This chapter is not over here. It has another part which will nicely tie up the threads I've pulled out, but in my current circumstances I don't have time to work on it at this moment. Please forgive the delay and let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. I'll be back with the rest as soon as time permits.
Share your thoughts, lift my spirits a little.
Thanks for reading.

Chapter 57: Phoenix's blood

Summary:

From blood of a phoenix death shall rise.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He sleeps with her. The thought is more enraging than it is revolting. He goes to her even when the customs forbid it, he goes to her even when the odds are pilling against her investiture. He goes to her despite knowing she had hands tainted with blood of their firstborn.

That faithless man - that cruel, beastly - horrible man!

The thought carves itself on her psyche, bleeding black all over her thoughts. Red hot fury keeps Yeon Hwa warm in the blizzard she rides through, despite the reins freezing in her hands, or the wind howling in her ear. She had not mounted a horse since her own coronation. Such displays did not befit the station of a queen, but then - what was the honor of her position anymore, when a barbarian wench from remote mountains is to be placed as her equal - perhaps in a while her superior - mother of the sacred crown prince.

In her fury she rides to Ims, to where her mother hides denying her the answers that she seeks. One would say that she runs away from a situation that was no longer under her control - from a truth that she did not want to admit - from defeat. But it is not true. Daemok had her own ambitions - means to her own ends. This particular chapter would begin with her mother.

Stable hands at Im’s estate - shout at the horsewoman, waving their lights in the icy winds. Young boys with their teeth clattering against the frost has their eyes widened in recognition. They sink to their knees the moment she pulls into a halt. The effort of making her frozen joints pull the reins drains the last of her strength, Yeon Hwa slumps against the blanket that covers the neck of her mount, breathing through her open mouth - frozen and winded - her pulse pounding painfully against her throat.

Grooms throw warm blankets around her and manages to peel her off the back of her frozen mount, she catches snaps of conversation through fever addled mind - of deaths in snow - and mounts that die before reaching destination and exclamations of what a hell of a rider the queen was - a remark she thinks belatedly, warranted death in other circumstances.

Then there are ladies, not as sure handed and courteous as the court ladies but curious and fearful maids of the Im household, who strip her off the snow sodden garments and help her sink into a heated bath with spicy oils.

Feelings return to her numb limbs as they sink into water, the swirls of smoke clearing the haze of her head. Yeon Hwa leans back against the tub and stares at the flickering candles, her jaws clammed shut to stop her teeth clattering. It makes her feel weak, this need of her body to tremble and her teeth to clatter, so she tries to hold it in and absorb as much warmth as possible from the water that covers her up to her shoulders.

Anger from before and her mother returns at the same time. She has grown older, her hair a silver crown atop her head and her face full of lines. It takes Yeon Hwa a moment to familiarize herself with this version of her mother as she realizes that she had not paid much attention to the woman since her coronation. The palace, the power struggle and the chase of non - existent affections of a lunatic Emperor had taken the place her family had once held. She had forgotten her mother - or what she was capable of.

“Marriage and children did not manage to change you, Yeon Hwa…” says her mother. “You are still a foolishly impulsive child.” She utters the word child as if it is an insult and she hears and feels the injury of that term, it makes her want to cringe, or hide herself underwater. She does neither however.

“And you still prefer to run away mother,” she tells her, “your foolishly impulsive child is a queen now - you cannot dismiss my invitation.”

The dowager Hwangbo comes and settles herself on a low bench by the side of her bath, the place an attendant would have taken, while assisting her to wash her hair. The older woman however makes no such move to touch her. Instead she smiles a little coldly.

“Your mother is now an old woman,” she says, wistfully. “An old woman who needs peace in her last days.”

“Peace?” Yeon Hwa snorts, the venom of her words barely masked. “You are plotting treason with enemies of my husband.”

“Treason?” Chuckles her mother. “But that is a relative term. It depends on who sits on the throne.”

Her hands fist in the water and Yeon Hwa grits her teeth. Her fury in that moment is directed solely at this old matriarch of her clan.

“Do you remember?” she asks through her clenched jaws. “Those were the words you told me - do you recall mother? You promised me the world when you placed the bridal crown on my head. You said I would have power…that I would be a god above the king.”

For a moment her mother says nothing, but her demeanour does not change. If only weary lines of her face deepens into cracks in flickering shadows of candles. She reaches forward and uncorks one of the vials of bath oils. The citrusy smell makes her head reel and the upturned corners of her mother’s mouth makes her furious. Dowager HwangBo looks down at her sympathetically as if she was a toddler who had scrapped her knees - as if what she lost had no significance at all. It makes her want to scream.

“I tried my best Yeon Hwa, you know that. I did everything I could -”

Yeon Hwa snatches hold of her wrist when her mother moves to pour more oil into her bath, her nails clawing into wrinkled flesh as she looks up at that impassive face.

“You told me he would die. You said his death was certain. You said I just needed a child - his and mine, a child who could sit on the throne which I couldn’t, and the world would be mine,” she speaks slowly, each word reproduced from her memory and laced with the venom of the bitterness she had to endure. “Pyeha did not die! Why Eomoni? WHY?”
**

It is near impossible to train birds with night vision to be carriers - but a vital talent in business and treason. The Ryus had their hands delved in both. The night hunters did not venture into snow storms, their wings could barely cut through the sharp winds - or last through the dropping temperature, so the owl did not swoop as it was trained to but dropped mid circle of flight into outstretched hands.

It is heartless to release it into the blizzard no matter how urgent the message would be. But they lived in times of war, between one emperor and the other and dealt in blood. One bird more or less meant very little.

The missive is encased in metal to protect it from the snow. The letters barely distinguishable in the starlight. Those letters that the Grand Prince Anjong thought were symbols of a code language, but are in fact letters from a different time.

The letters that only the Ryus once knew how to read - letters brought to them by a divine vision. The cursed letters of ShinHye, the uncrowned queen.

They read few simple words.

From blood of a Phoenix death shall rise.

**

“Have you heard of Shinhye?” Dowager Hwangbo questions preoccupied with her own thoughts. She pours the oil into her palm and rubs them into Yeon Hwa’s frost bitten hands. Her movements are forceful enough to make Yeon Hwa flinch, but her mind is elsewhere - a faint crease between her brows.

“The first queen of my late father?”

Dowager Hwangbo’s displeasure is a muted grunt in her throat.

“The Ryus like to call her ‘the uncrowned queen’ but she was never married to a king - never deserving of any part of the honor he later came to.” Her eyes close for a moment, not in memory but as she calculated and sorted through her thoughts for next words. “She was the wife to a young soldier who quickly rose through ranks. Not every woman is made to endure the hardship of war or the shallowness of loveless matches. ShinHye was withered and bristled not to receive the attention she thought was due from her husband. She was a pretty woman - high born - well versed in four arts but stored away on a shelf forever waiting. She died a disappointed woman, a denied woman - a scorned woman. She died before her husband was enthroned, died in jealousy of the woman who gave him an heir - in fury of the throne that always kept him away. She cursed him as she died - that the throne he so coveted would end up eating each man to sit atop it - each son he would pass it to would die a failed - mad king.”

Yeon Hwa shudders. Something about the somber tone of her mother reminds her of each death she had to live through - of her father, of Hyejong and Jeonjong - men who were larger than life but were reduced to raving madmen, always looking behind their shoulders - always in fear of death, traitors and conspiracies - the curse - she thinks - had followed them to their grave.

“The Ryus say she is different. She had once tried to kill herself, distraught after her husband left for another three year battle - but survived through divine intervention - when she woke up - Shinhye was different. Once the high born noble lady began to delve into wicked arts - witchcraft. She said she saw the ending of a dynasty yet to begin - lived a different life in a different world - and her new found abilities she brought from there along with letters no one could read.”

“The cursed letters of Shin Hye…”

Dowager Hwangbo nodded.

“The very same that we use to exchange encrypted messages. The same letters Ryu spies had since used. The same letters -”

“Of that wench’s book -”

“The conclusion to be drawn then was that she was a spy of Ryus - but now,” her mother frowns a bit pouring more oil into her bath. “It cannot be that simple. I’ve been heavily ignorant. She had found her away not to Ryus but Kangs - to the line of the woman who broke the curse.”

“The woman who -”

“Haven’t you heard the tale of the Wolf Maiden?” Dowager Hwangbo questions impatiently. “It is the concubine Kang - a witch of her own caliber, the only, at that time powerful enough to stop the curse from coming to fruition. At that time crown Prince Mu was dying from battle injuries - no physician could wake him - his majesty was at her mercy to save his heir. And the cunning woman knew what it meant to him and extracted her price. She wanted his word in exchange of her efforts to counter the curse - that her son would sit on the throne, after the crown prince.”

Yeon Hwa sees where the story is going, how everything falls into place, even when her thoughts are sluggish and her mind hazy.

“The promise prompted Queen Yoo to kill the boy,” she concludes, looking at her mother for confirmation. “That woman never does anything without reason, she wouldn’t have bothered with the son of a lowly concubine in a remote mountain if not for that promise.”

“Concubine Kang went mad in rage and extracted her revenge by casting a curse of her own, reactivating the curse that she countered - altering it so that anyone to whom the throne that should have been her son’s is passed would die - Every son of her husband and any heir to follow. Queen Yoo’s firstborn was the first to fall under her spell. The boy would have followed crown prince on throne instead of the Kang prince as was promised.”

“And they did,” Yeon Hwa whispers. Her limbs feel numb again, but they are no longer cold. It is the realization that brings her fear and freezes her heart. That was the woman she allowed into her mind - that woman wanted her line destroyed, their nation in ruins. “How can we be safe?”

“Things are different now,” her mother replies. “Our goals have aligned. We wanted the emperor dead, we believed he would - following his predecessors. But he did not. The curse did not affect him - as the Shaman of Ryu said, his star is too bright. Concubine Kang could not bear to see the son of Queen Yoo - the woman who killed her child - withstanding her curse. She died to bring him death, to cast an ash bone curse that cannot be countered. She died for our cause. We need not fear her anymore. But she is the means to reach our end.”

“But she failed,” Yeon Hwa reminds bitterly. “She failed - the emperor lives.”

“He cannot overpower her forever daughter. She is simply bidding her time. When the time comes we must lend her strength.” Her mother replies, her fingers are lovingly attentive on her shoulders and Yeon Hwa swallows. “I’ve been expecting that you would come to me ever since I heard the announcement of the new Queen’s investiture. Hyeon Jeong - he calls her?”

“I will not stand her crowned - I will -” The words are blood on her mouth and Yeon Hwa chokes, pulse pounding in her head. She turns to look at her mother, eyes widened in horror and a hand clasped against her mouth. “Mother!”

Her cold eyes do not change, nor does her impassive expression. Only the grip her mother had on her shoulder tightens, fingers digging into her flesh like claws of a predator.

Blood drips from her mouth, a streak of dark red that dissolves in the water tinting it a shade of water thinned wine. Her eyes burn, her vision blurs.

“I did what I could for you daughter,” the cold eyed woman who peers down at her continues, as if nothing had changed. As if she did not matter at all. “I went to terrible lengths to make sure your son would inherit the throne. Now you must pay back -”

“How could you -!” She screeches, through mouthfuls of blood. “How could you do this to me!”

“You shared your body with her - your blood will give her the strength she needs. I will not see you dethroned - daughter.” The dowager bows over her and presses her lips on her forehead. “Sleep…”

“Eomoni! Eom -”

Her limbs are heavy, the force of her mother’s hand unwavering. Yeon Hwa gulps for air and feels the water lapping at her - rising…or was it her slipping…her vision darkens and the water, burning in her eyes, her nose and her airway, swallows her whole.

Notes:

I can't believe I did this!
Thanks for reading! I'm sure you know by now, if you didn't before reading this chapter, that we are at the door of doom. Oh this makes me feel wickedly excited! How about you? Share your thoughts and leave me some inspiration for the next chapter. I'm going to pause my other works a bit and work on this one, so give me some love and let me know you are reading! :-)

Chapter 58: Sinner's paradise

Summary:

The wind picks up towards a final storm.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Behind her eyelids the day dawns in blood and gray. She feels the ice that runs along her arms like a frozen tongue, coiling around her soul. It has a name - at the tip of her tongue - but in the world of her dreams that word never comes. Beneath her naked feet the ground is frozen and late winter rain beats it in tandem. She feels each drop of that icy rain like a frozen blade against her skin, an unshed tear dangling heavy from her eyelid.

It is the path she is supposed to walk wearing the dragon robes of the queen, the paved path that she had once knelt down on begging for a life to be spared. Now on the same polished stones she stands stripped of color, brocade and honor - dressed in the white of sinners.

A trail of blood leads away from where she stands and carries with it her eyes towards the man who had spilled that blood. The rain beats upon him and drips bloody when and where it leaves his skin. Hair matted and teeth bared he points his sword at her, snarling, growling, doused in blood.

Air doesn’t come when she gasps for breath. Fear - she finally finds the name for the acid that burns her tongue and it burns her eyes with realization. She doesn’t fear him - instead the fear that consumes her is for him - for what is left of him. The rain still falls making swirls of mist rise from the ground - making her vision of him hazy. Fear, holds her rooted there at the tip of his sword.

He looks at her with bloodshot, soul - less eyes, blinking through the streaks of blood that streams down his face and laughs, throwing back his head, shaking his matted hair - wheezing.

Hae Soo recoils, from the nightmare that replays, from the soul shuddering reminder of all her fears, she takes back a step.

And Jang Mi reaches out. Beneath the shadow that befalls him, beneath the blood, the stink of death, she sees the boy that waits. His flesh is ice cold and her palms press themselves to the sides of his face. An inch more, she could drown in his eyes, an inch more, she would impale herself on his blade.

His unarmed hand caresses her face, smudging her in the taint of his sins - he wipes the rest of blood on the collar of her white garment and lays that hand atop her heart.

“Stop,” she mutters in a voice that is drowned by the patter of rain. “Stop…”

“Your dog has gone mad - Rose,” he chuckles darkly, narrowing his eyes at her. “It heeds you no more.” She feels the first graze of the blade edge and her body tries to reflexively dodge the danger. She holds him, unmoving by sheer will power. “It knows you no more.” He continues sinisterly. “It knows only blood…”

Red blossoms against the white of her clothes and she winces.

“No.”

“Yours - your child’s - I’ve been waiting Rose…”

“NO!”

She wakes up to a muted scream on wee hours of the day of her investiture. Gasping, gaping and reaching out for him unconsciously. So gathers her in his arms, wordless, even as she claws at him desperately, her nails scratching, until her trembling fingers bunch fist fulls of his robe and she buries her face against him. Wailing, gasping dry sobs. Outside the wind thrashes at the windows, rattling the wooden frames and howling in frozen agony.

“Love, it’s a storm - storm, nothing more - shh, shh…” he coos against her temple, pressing his mouth against her hair, blowing warm breath against her clammy skin, as they rock back and forth. His hand runs down her back - rubbing tenderly. “Your ladies will think I’m hurting you,” he whispers, half jokingly. “They will run straight to Nakrang.”

She pulls back and looks at him with haunted eyes.

“Hurt me,” she says. When he opens his mouth to object she covers it with a palm, drawing closer and curling around him, body pressed against his. “No,” she insists. “I’m numb. I - I want to feel.” The words come out in a rush, disoriented. “I want to feel you.” His face sandwiched between her palms is warm, unlike in her dream. “Nothing but you,” she rises on her knees and looks over him, bringing her mouth down upon his. “Please,” she mutters against his lips, “I. want. To. forget. Everything. Else.”

He is frozen beneath her as she draws his lower lip into her mouth, scraping with her teeth, gliding with her tongue, her fingers digging into the roughened expense of his cheeks. She slithers against him, intent, insistent and ravenous, breathing him in, tasting and assuring herself - he was still him, still hers, still here, she has not lost him yet.

She sighs in content when he falters and starts to respond. His hands move from her hips up her sides, fingers climbing along her spine, and his mouth is scalding upon hers yet maddeningly slow. She growls trying but failing - pulse pounding, hazy and reeling. He catches hold of her wrists and pulls them over her head, lowering her - gently - into the soft bedding.

“No,” the word is whispered but firm and he holds her still. Warm eyes unlike those of her nightmare, seeking hers in question. She protests her fingers twisted in his hair, she sighs and growls, trying to pull him closer. “No - I will not be an escape,” he says instead. She gapes at him, lips trembling. His hold on her wrists eases as he moves to entwine his fingers with hers, drawing her hands to his to press his mouth against her knuckles.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments. “Are you cold? Should I tend the fire?”

When he moves to follow his own suggestion the sudden void makes her shudder. She reaches and clings to him with a child like despair, arms wrapped around his torso and cheek pressed against his shoulder blade.

“Please - stay,” her words are muffled against him, but she hears his sigh in reply. “Forgive me. I meant no offence -” she fumbles for words, eyes squeezed shut as she reflects upon her shameless outburst. He takes her hand again and kisses her open palm.

“None taken,” he assures her. His warm eyes makes her tearful when they peer down into hers. “I’m not leaving, Wife.”

She allows herself to grasp at straws, the faint hope that his words offer.

“But you must sleep,” he runs an absentminded hand through her tangled braid. His palm coming to rest against her cheek. “My demons will keep you awake…”

“Pyeha…” The pad of his thumb presses against her lip.

“Don’t,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against her trembling lips. “Don’t lie. We promised not to lie to each other.” Her breath hitches at their proximity. He looks at her with eyes swimming in regret. “You were talking in your sleep.”

Her heart breaks when he pulls back, when she sees the worn, bitter look of pain in his eyes. He makes no promises yet his palm remains warm against her cheek and he doesn’t withdraw any further. She hears it then, that faint knock on the door. The head eunuch clearing his throat. His eyes rake over her in muted consideration, a touch of lingering affection that makes her feel overwhelmed. He throws his own outer robe around her shoulders before addressing them.

“Enter!”

“Pyeha!” Eyes of the older eunuch never raises from the ground, but Jang Mi notices how his ears turn red as he steals a glance at her. “Mama,” he greets her reverently.“His royal highness grand prince Anjong, wishes to make an audience, may your majesty forgive the lateness of the hour. The matter is of utmost urgency. The spy has been captured.”

When So makes a move to rise, Jang Mi lays a hand on his arm.

“I wish to follow - Pyeha.” He looks at her, eyes slightly narrowed. “Don’t leave me behind to the company of my own demons.” Her grip tightens. “Please!”

He sighs, but offers her his hand to rise as turns to the eunuch.

“Bring her majesty’s fur, make sure she is warm.”  

**

The owl flutters its wings, amber eyes staring at her pitifully. Good sense would leave it to die. But she is a fool that way. Seo Nui bundles up the feathery ball under the crook of her arm, wrapped in her cloak. It is only a short walk back to the residence, she thinks, clenching her clattering teeth. The wait is almost over.

There is a man to be released. Her mother had been specific on this. The man - the demon they tried to keep in leash would raise the hell the are trying to keep at bay. They are all bidding their time after all. The Ryus and the Hwangbos, both vying for the throne, going side by side until the cross road of their ambition comes.

Seo Nui now knows what that cross - road is to be. The emperor’s death. For only one could take his place, either the prince of Hwangbos - or the prince her mother wanted. There was a time when they used to be the same - but not anymore.

She swallows thickly when she faces the man behind the rusting bars. Still it is hard to suppress the bile that rises up her throat. The man, with his face torn and healed leers at her as she throws back her hood. She is yet to learn how he escaped death, how her mother had managed to buy his loyalty.

“Well?” Song Dal asks, “what news does the owl bring?”

“It is time,” she tells him briskly, dismissing the revolting smile.

“Poor thing - the queen,” Song Dal clicks his tongue. “Wasted on the dog…”

Seo Nui bites back the need to retort, his tone makes her flesh crawl. If it had not been for her mother’s word…she clenches her fist. Seo Nui cannot risk her mother’s ire, she cannot. Too much depends on that. Instead she offers the man a nail and a blunt short knife. “Work your way out,” she says. “It happens tomorrow night.”

The man grimaces, torn lips drawn tight over yellowed teeth.

“You won’t help -gonjunim?” That address she is accustomed to hear from the lips of grand prince Anjong, makes her stomach churn when used by this vile creature.

“No!” She snaps lifting her skirts above the grime of the prison floor. “I’ve done enough.”

She does not wait to hear the grievances of the man, as she rushes to relieve herself of the suffocating atmosphere. The anticipation of discovery hangs over her like an ax waiting to fall at one faulty step.

Gonjunim…” his voice sings after her, crawling, creeping like a shadow of a sin. Seo Nui quickens her step, suddenly yearning to be outside in the thrashing winds.

The onslaught of snow she hopes to encounter never comes. She steps outside into a semi - circle bounded by black clad men. Seo Nui stops short, forgetting her next inhale. An unconscious hand reaches for her throat, trying to ease the knot that starts to suffocate her.

In front of her stands the Grand Prince Anjong, dressed in inky purple of Kims and his hair bound in plaits of a warrior. The owl cradled against her arm flutters weakly and for a second his eyes dart towards it. His face remain impassive and colder than the storm that surrounds them.

Involuntarily she takes a step backwards, feeling her heart sink - as her eyes dart around the impenetrable wall of men.

“Stop.Seo Nui.” He speaks so suddenly that he makes her jump. “You will go nowhere.”

“I can explain -”

“I’m not interested,” never in the brief months she had known him had he sounded so scathing. “I gave you enough opportunities as it is and you choose to put your family in danger instead. Gyeonhwa is your niece, Jang Mi your cousin - and the emperor - your brother!”

“Who killed my brother!” She snaps at him, cut lose by the condemning tone he uses. “My brother - who killed my brother! You call him my family?”

“So you choose him?” He steps up, glaring down at her. “You choose the man that tried to kill you - not once, not twice but several times? Have you truly taken leave of your senses?”

She drags in a burning inhale, blinking back tears. The reminder, the need to utter those hurtful words herself makes her heart wrench in pain. It has never been a choice that she made. The choice had always been her mother’s.

“I choose you,” she says then, quietly, loathing herself for speaking those words. “I choose you.”

He freezes for a moment. For a moment she believes she had rattled him, had perhaps changed his heart. Then his eyes start to burn.

“Go on.” He says, his voice so quiet and cold that it makes her skin prickle. “So the Ryus do not plan to be honest even to their allies in treason?” His tone is mocking, dripping with loathing. “Does your mother fancy me on the throne now?”

“Baek Ah!” Her vision blurs with angry tears and her voice rises an octave.

“Remember your rank - sister,” another voice cuts her off, calm and cold as a blade of steel. “You will not address Grand Prince Anjong by name.”

Seo Nui has to cover her face with a hand when the barrier of men parts giving way to the swirling snow. She blinks up to meet the narrowed eyes of the emperor.

“So it was you,” he says slowly.

“It isn’t her doing,” Jang Mi gathers her fur closer as she steps beside her imperial husband, her eyes as unreadable as his. “Princess Seo Nui has always been a puppet at the fingertips of her mother.”

Seo Nui snorts at her.

“As if you aren’t enslaved by your aunt - mama!” She retorts mockingly. “Did I manage to address correctly now, my imperial brother?” She chuckles humourlessly, peering into Jang Mi’s contorted face. “Aren’t you still chained to her curse? Dancing to the tunes of a dead woman?”

Jang Mi cannot help but seize the woman from her pretty, pale throat, tight enough that she chokes on her dark laughter.

“Do not test me - gonjunim,” she hisses, her eyes boring into the feverishly lit ones of Seo Nui.

“Have you made peace with it?” Seo Nui coos back, suddenly so much like her mother. Her tone is sickly sweet and her words laced with poison. “That your emperor won’t last?”
”Baek Ah - I will kill this woman if she does not shut her mouth,” Jang Mi growls, her grip tightening. It is So who reaches to hold her wrist, pull back the hand that threatens to choke his half sister.

“It won’t last,” Seo Nui continues undisturbed. “None of this would. Oh - for all I’ve envied you - you are the most pitiful of us all. None of this will last. You think your child would survive? You think if the dead woman is destroyed your child would survive? He won’t -” her eyes shift to the emperor. “Your death will not save your son. The curse will find him - the curse will find all that takes your blood. Like the little crown prince before…”

Jang Mi finds her knees buckling as the weight of those words settles upon her.

“Take this woman away!” So commands as he turns to wrap an arm around her, holding her when the ground below seems to sway. He buries his face against her shoulder and mutters only for her ear. “It is fine. It’s fine.”

“No!” She gasps, staring after the furious princess. “Why? Why?”

“Not here,” he whispers. “Not here love.”

“She will take him!” Seo Nui calls after her, her voice blending ominously with the howling winds.
“I will not let her take you,” Jang Mi vows anew. “I stopped her once, I can do it again.”

“You won’t,” he objects after a pause. “You will do nothing that will question your standing as a lady of Kim clan; as Baek Ah’s cousin. He should be there to be Regent if -when - it comes to pass.”

“No!”

“I command it!” His voice rises, hands that grip hers tightening. “I command you. If it ever comes to that, if I ever threaten you life - your child’s life - you will kill me.” She shakes her head mutely, tears running their course down her cheeks. He cups her face, brushing them off with his thumbs. “This is my last command.”

Her frame shudders as she beats her forehead against his heart. He tries but fails to hold her still.

“Withdraw it, take it back! Take it back! Take it -”

He holds her face, presses his forehead against hers.

“You will not have said it if I were her,” she says vehemently, bitter words aimed to dig at her own wounds. “You’d not hurt her so. You’d not curse her so. You are cruel. You are -”

“Would you rather see me shot down by the garrison?” He interjects bitterly, choosing not to address her accusations. His eyes are closed when she seeks them out with muted horror, his forehead still pressed against hers. “I have already ordered that.”

“Your majesty -”

“I would not have asked her,” he admits quietly. “She would not have understood. I wish to find heaven. I wish to find her. Being selfish creatures that we are, I wished you would understand. I wish you’d give me peace.”

“A sinner giving peace to a sinner?” she chokes on a bitter laugh. “Then being the selfish creature I am won’t you ask what price I’d take?”

Her fingers tangle in his hair pulling him closer, her eyes alight with fire.

“In that heaven you find, you’d be mine. In that time - in that world - I’d be me and you’d be mine. You did not find her - she lived alone, she was betrayed, she was forsaken. She was left to die, reliving memories of an old love, longing for what she couldn’t have. But when she wakes up - when I wake up - you will be there. I - Kang Jang Mi, bind you to myself, Wang So - you will be mine. Even the ashes of a dead woman will not untie your soul from mine.”

When she kisses him then, lips salty with tears, it taste of heartbreak, of all the times they had broken apart - of each lie, each pain and each broken promise.

The times have changed, she had changed them. So she knows, that she will not wake up the same betrayed, bruised soul of Ha Jin as is her fate in future. If her now, would change her then, Jang Mi would make that choice consciously. She would tear off the stars that wrote them apart and bleed in his place if the need be. He would be hers. She would make that happen.

That may very well be the reason why the fates brought her back again and again to this time. Her bleak future was a result of her inaction as the daughter of Kangs, as a by - stander to the fate of a nation being written by wrong people. The cost of failing to be selfish.

She would be selfish now.    

She would choose him.

The times will change.

Notes:

Was that last we hear from Seo Nui? Wasn't I going to match her with Baek Ah after all? Umm no, Seo Nui is not done yet. And whatever this chapter makes you think, she is not completely a lost cause either. Only her mother influences her choices a little too much at the moment. She can still find her light at the end of the storm.
Share your thoughts, please! I'm feeling a bit lonely here in this fic. :-(
Thanks for the glorious 7K view that we crossed recently. No words will do justice to what I feel! :-)))

Chapter 59: La Fouldre

Summary:

She reaches the sun only to get her wings burned.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She looks windswept at the very worst, Beak Ah thinks biting the inside of his cheek. He cannot find it in himself to give her the condemning that she rightly deserves; he further muses rather furious at his own relief to find her particularly unscathed. Their involvement - he would not call it a relationship - arrangement if you will, had been rather fragile, balanced on the tip of a knife as it was. He could not afford scarps of a weary attachment. 

Every shadow of the interrogation room makes a ghost against the stone. He takes his time, shaking snow off his sleeves, allowing each passing moment to leave its heavy imprint upon her. The spy, he forces himself to think of her such, the princess of Ryu stumbles to her feet when he approaches, look in her eyes guarded. He brushes it off as he settles on the chair opposite, without invitation. The parchment with script of traitors upon it laid down on the table between them. 

“You can read it I believe,” he tells her, tilting his head towards the piece of parchment. She glances towards it, weary eyes darting between his face and the letters glittering in the candle light. 

“You cannot stop it from happening,” her tone is finite, and closed off just like the fist she clenches to her side. She flinches at the abrupt noise of his chair scraping against the floor, when he rises. 

“Do not force my hand - Seo Nui,” he tastes the threat on his tongue, all the while wondering if he could go through with it - if - when - she does force his hand. “I’d rather not treat you as it befits a traitor.”

“Was it not you who delivered poison to my brother?”

Wang Won - he thinks with bitterness, he hadn’t forgotten. That greedy fool responsible for several deaths. If it is guilt or remorse that she hopes to find with him, Beak Ah makes sure he meets her eye, as clear in his conscience as he was in his stare. 

“True,” he tells her. “And I gave him written confession of his accomplice - a woman he manipulated to aid his cause - as final testimony to his sins. He died in regret, he died a repenting sinner - knowing he had led a woman who truly loved him to an untimely and cruel death.”

“Yet you would not have me force your hand?” Her tone drops sarcastically, her eyes gleam with pleasure. “Why would I aid to keep your conscience clean - your royal highness?”

“Would you rather die at the hands of Hyeon Jeong mama?” He cannot help but ask her distastefully. “I don’t know what you think of your cousin - but let me assure you she is capable of doing so herself, without flinching.”

That mocking curve her lips had twisted into deepens slightly. 

“I trust Hyeon Jeong Mama will have more pressing matters to attend, soon enough.”

Something snaps within him at her condescending tone and he allows himself to touch her, grip those shoulders and shake her. For all the frustration she caused him, he wishes - wishes - if he could strangle her. But she just has to look at him with those indifferent eyes. 

“I think it will fall into your lot to deliver poison to me too, my lord.”
His fingers, curled claws of ire sink into her flesh, unconsciously pulling her closer. 

“Poison?” he repeats darkly. “She’ll hang you in the market square - you fool! ” 

“Careful,” she clicks her tongue, those cold eyes narrowing into his. “One might think you actually care what befalls me.”

She steps closer yet, out of her own volition. 

“Cut your ties with Hyeon Jeong Your royal highness , if you wish your household to survive. She’s a horse set course down a precipice, it is unwise to put the entire weight of Kims behind her.”

“One might think you actually care - gongjunim, ” he returned in her own words.   

“If you don’t - my mother will have to cut down the horse for you,” she says, unfeeling words that has promised malice behind them. “You might try to deny it but my mother sees her pawns placed where she wants them. She will not let her drag you down - though the Emperor wishes to make a shield of you. Hyeon Jeong is going down either way -”

He steps back, staring at her, understanding dawning uncomfortably fast, it is as if she had doused him in ice water. Baek Ah blinks slowly. 

“You - “ he says, fisting his trembling fingers. “You - are doing this deliberately.”

Her eyes lowered a fraction and Seo Nui bites her lip. Wrapping her hands around herself, she turns away from him. 

“My mother must know I was loyal to her cause to the very end,” she says finally. He notices the catch in her tone. “If the tide is to change, she must not find fault with me. She must know that I was forced to give the information that I did. I will not be considered a disappointment by my mother just because - just because -” 

Baek Ah grips her under the elbow and whips her around to face him. Moisture clings to her lashes, tinkling in the candle light. 

“You told Imperial brother about the curse,” he recalls softly. “You said it won’t stop if he dies - you meant to inform him that his death would not put the danger off their baby. You are telling me that your mother wishes to take Hyeon Jeong Mama out of the equation - she would probably kill her so as to protect the Kims from charges of treason. Like the Emperor had to kill Kang Seo Kyung. But you would not be seen passing information. You would not be seen betraying your mother’s cause.”

“She would kill me.”

“You wished to be caught, did you not gongjunim? That is why you passed such exclusive information which only you would have known.”
”She’d kill me if she knows.”

“You could die still,” he reminds her sinisterly. Her answering smile is bitterly perceptive. 

“You will not kill me - your royal highness.”

His expression changes ever so slightly and his grip on her falters. 

“Do you love me - Seo Nui?”

“From the blood of Phoenix death shall rise,” Seo Nui says instead. And she looks up. “That blood has already been spilled.”

**

“My daughter,” whispers the dowager queen of Hwangbos. The word slips through her trembling lips as a prayer, as she runs her fingers through the cluster of dark hair, still wet from the steaming bath water. “My sweet - sweet child. How have you suffered.”

They had her laid out in the rooms Ims had prepared for the dowager. Dressed in dragon robes of the queen. A trace of heat yet lingered in the skin under her finger tips. The old woman sighs, torn between her need to draw her child into a last embrace and more pressing matters to attend. She settles to press her lips to her forehead in farewell instead. 

“May you find peace - daughter.”

May you bring war to those you are leaving behind.

**

He helps her to climb the stars with warm, sure hands. It all fills her with melancholy, greetings, bows, fake smiles, splendor wasted upon a queen they do not want. But it is the greed that makes her hold on to him, their time together - precious as it is - would be all left for her to hold on to, once it comes to pass. He feels her stiffening as the thought occurs to her, and eyes her quizzically. She had wanted to amend the loneliness of a life time she had cursed him to - and ended up taking it for her own. Jang Mi blinks back the tear that burns her vision, her fingers tightening slightly around his. 

“You look pale,” he tells her in an undertone. “Were you very sick this morning?”

“I’m fine - Lord Husband,” she offers him a ghost of a smile, which falls away as quickly as she conjures it when her mind runs back to her brief meeting with Anjong in the morning.  

“After the investiture, would you like to go to my lady mother? She wishes to spend time with you - Silla is beautiful country.”

His words are carefully chosen, but flimsy enough that she sees the worry he tries to mask behind them. Baek Ah has never managed to hide his fears well. 

“You wish to hide me,” she summarizes for him, lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “Is there any place that would manage to hide me now - Baek Ah nim?”

He wrings his thumbs, tension taut in the lines of his body. He seeks her eyes for courage. 

“I wish to see you safe - mama,” he offers. “The tide is changing.”

“I do not wish to leave him,” she confesses softly. “We don’t have an age together Baek Ah nim.” Tears that she cannot spill, seep through her words. “I do not wish to repeat my errors back then.”

With that same greed she holds on to him, knowing that the exchange will not reach the ears of her Lord Husband. She would not burden him with trouble of her own. But the knot of anticipation tightens, her stomach churning uncomfortably. The court rises to their feet ready to prostrate themselves when they stand before the dragon throne. 

“Greetings to her majesty -”

It has been an age since he asked her if she fancied the throne, an age of suffering and separation. Her star had since changed. 

Belatedly the doors of the throne room are thrown open with hardly a care to decorum. In comes the dowager Hwangbo, behind her the neat ranks of queen’s guard. The assembly freezes in the wake of the old woman, who carries herself to bow before the emperor at the foot of the dragon throne. 

Her face is weary, pale and drawn - wrinkled in displeasure. 

“My daughter is dead.” She announces to a stunned silence. “My daughter - the rightful queen - mother of the sacred crown prince was killed by this witch who dared to wear the dragon robes!”

Her finger is unwavering, pointed towards her. 

Jang Mi cannot breathe, the sound rising in ripples of harsh whisper closes up her airway. 

The queen is dead. Daemok is dead. Dead. Killed. Witch!

The dowager is unmoving, her gaze full of venom. 

“Do justice by her Pyeha - do justice to your woman, mother of your child, your queen!”

The Emperor says nothing. Fear, like ice dripping down her spine, makes her shiver. Why wouldn’t he say anything? His hand is clammy against her palm, but his hold tightens almost painfully around her wrist. 

“Evidence of dark magic has been recovered from her chambers - Pyeha,” speaks the captain of the queen’s guard. 

Lies, she reels. So knows. So was there with her last night. He knows. Yet he remains silent. 

“A number of her ladies will talk about the necromancy rituals they’ve witnessed,” it is Wook coming to aid his mother’s plea in his glorious court robes. His eyes are cold when they find and settle upon her. “You don’t deserve that pedestal lady Kang,” he says and with a flourish calls forth one of the maids standing behind the ranks of Queen’s guard. 

“A witness,” he says pleasantly. “To testify on your true identity. Raise your head and look up at her Da Young, is she not the lady you’ve accompanied since young?”

Da Young, the maid she hadn’t seen since the days of war in Shinju, rises her pale head, her eyes wide and her lips trembling she nods. 

“Yes, she is - my lord.”

“So,” his name spills from her lips, eyes darting to find him already looking at her. The ice that clawed at her clutches her in a fist of breathless terror. He looks at her with foggy eyes - hazel like frozen ponds of Shinju, and so very familiar in a forbidding way. His fingers sink into the supple flesh of her wrist, claws ready to draw blood and his lips curl with sinister pleasure. The words he speak, full of dark promise are for her ears alone.

“Farewell - my Rose.”

Notes:

La Fouldre - "the lightening" lightening struck tower in tarot cards is symbolic of unforseen catastrophe.

Oh ah, I guess I stopped at a place I should not. Will try to resume as soon as time allows. Meantime - thank you for the large number of views for the last chapter, it warms my heart to know you're reading.
Do share your thoughts please, I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter.
Thanks for reading! Will meet again, soon!

Chapter 60: Lonely light

Summary:

It is only in the darkest of times that an unborn child becomes the only light.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They strip off dragon robes with hands not so gentle. Jang Mi is numb to them, their condescending looks, condemning whispers behind her back. There is not one court lady brave enough to meet her eye, witch that they believe her to be, they scatter from her wake like mice from a feline shadow afraid of bad luck. She is numb to that too - all she tastes in her mouth is defeat. Not to the dowager of Hwangbo, no, she sees the woman for the puppet that she is. The hand that moves the pawns belongs to a grander shadow of her past, a woman she had revered, hated but also aspired to - such was the allure of her darkness, so potent was the poison of her wrath; Jang Mi would be foolish not to see her Aunt behind the spider’s web that had spun itself around her.

My Rose she calls her, from the mouth of the man she loved, endearment laced with such promise of pain to come that it makes her numb. To think she’d ever be free of that woman, of the power she had over her life, Jang Mi had indeed been a fool. That one move had taken them all out. Not only Jang Mi, but the Grand Princess Nakrang, the Grand Prince Anjong along with the Kims of Gyeonju who helped her rise - now thrown together into the pit, colluding traitors of high treason; she the rock that would sink them to the bottom.

“She’s so cold…” a whispered comment presses itself into her conscious. It seems they hope to see a physical manifestation of her despair. Jang Mi tilts her chin, her eyes indeed cold. It would take a lot more than the betrayal of a childhood companion to break her. She would not grovel at the feet of an impostor wearing the skin of her husband, even if it is for the sake of her child. If such pride would take her down - down she shall go. But she intends to keep her promises, she would bow to no other man.  

He watches her in muted amusement, an expression that is alien to his face as it would have well worn on her Aunt’s.

“Should you not be prostrating yourself - lady Kang? Bow to the mercy of your monarch in the light of your treason?” The choosing of words intends to remind her, intends to hurt. She meets his eyes, seeing through them the woman who ruled the hell of their childhood.

“I refuse.” Her head barely dips, eyes never leaving his - the blunt show of disrespect opens the flood gates of whispers.

The Emperor arches an eyebrow.

“Pity such bravery would take you nowhere - but nearer to death…”

“Pity, there cannot be a punishment worse than death. I’ve already been charged with it - what I do, or do not, cannot grant me a worse fate.”

“Ah but perhaps…” he leaves the words incomplete, his face openly thoughtful.

Oh how she wishes she could wrench out that wretched woman from where she had plunged her claws into him… She thinks holding those stony gray eyes. Oh kill me while you can - or regret it when I rip you apart.

“Such an inconsiderate mother you are,” the Emperor says suddenly. “I’d have to reflect upon this particular shortcoming as well, when I decide your sentence - meanwhile you can repent in house arrest -”

Poison? She’ll have him sent her poison? Jang Mi blinks the terror that rouses the idea. It is one thing to order a trial, but this particular method - borrowing his hands to take every life that he holds dear… Her aunt had always known where it hurt the most, where to aim the killing shot.

This was the man who took it upon himself to change the system that made him kill his younger brother - who gave up on her for that, and now…

“Take her!”

The realization is what makes her numb, as she goes, she is numb to the spectacle that she makes for her mind is elsewhere. This is not them being taken out, but them being used as poisoned needles to kill the real man on throne. If one of them succumbs, so would his will to fight back. Losing to her Aunt, would mean losing So forever. The possibility did not exist.

The Hwangbos have victory in their eyes. She pities Daemok for a passing second, cruel though the woman was, she did not deserve such calloused disregard from her own clan. It makes the situation dire if possible. The dowager is ready to sacrifice her own children for this game of thorns, what more could vouch for the steel in her heart?

The uneven ground beneath her feet makes her stumble out of her trance. There are people watching, behind her the gate of the main palace closes. Oh - do they hope she would walk the shame through crowds of inner city residents watching? Do they think it matters? Jang Mi allows her eyes to travel the parameter. Or are there archers, perched to take her out - when the mob of angry citizens, fall upon the witch queen?

How easily mislead are these men and women? There is disgust in their eyes, open fury, blame and distrust. They do not even know her. But she could assume, half of what they hurl towards her makes no sense in the hum of many voices, she could assume they would easily blame her every misfortune to ever befall them. It was the witch queen cursing us.

It reminds her of the rain ritual.

How easily they had gone from cursing him to worshiping the ground he walked on. How easy it had been to topple the balance of fate.

She ducks the first stone hurled at her reflexively, eyes widening in horror. So this was what the Eighth prince had planned for her - that vile man... The guards makes no attempt to stop them, or shield her, or at least to walk a bit faster. They do not meet her eye, jaw clenched and staring ahead.

Third and forth she manages to evade.

The hit that finally manages to find her temple, draw blood as it does so, makes her shut her eyes in a bout of pain. It is when she opens her eyes that she sees the first black clad man. He pops up from the crowd, so abruptly to her terror - were there assassins after all ? But then there are more, climbing down the roofs, spinning across the street, leaping over heads of terrified city folk. For a moment, Jang Mi stands immobilized, unarmed and blood trickling down her temple - open mouthed. The first of those black clad men had made it to her. But instead of the attack that she expects, fears, he shields her with his body taking the last stone before the chaos that was whirling towards her. His other companions have already formed a ring around her, taking on the guard - the imperial guard!

The man who had briefly touched her shoulder, draws his hand back quickly, respectfully.

“Mama,” he bows, addressing her in an undertone. “We must leave now.”

“Shadows?” She gasps, when the man takes her arm, and the group of them are moving, too quick for her to make sense of their direction or intentions. The man pauses only to nod briefly.

“Prince Anjong waits,” he tells her. “We must hurry Mama!”

She leaves blood on her trail, so much for stopping bloodshed, Jang Mi sighs and wipes the blood trickling down her face with her sleeve.

“I would require a sword Captain,” she tells the man, as they backs away from the guard - still gathering themselves, still coming in terms with the bitter truth that they have been ambushed and their prisoner stolen. The man that had approached her, offers her a look of blank surprise. “I will not be a burden that slow down your progress. Arm me captain.”

“Mama - the baby -”

“- is a son of the dragon, he shall endure.”

The Captain gives her a long look, as long as he could afford before taking upon more of their opponents.

“Our imperial command had been different,” he tells her. She draws up short at that, feet planted on dusty street.

“Imperial command?”

“His majesty addressed the possibility of - this instance… The allegiance of the shadows was sworn to your child and by extension to you - mama, in case the emperor falls. The shadows will guard you with the last of their lives - you need not take up arms - Mama…”

She pulls out the captain’s dagger from where it hangs from his belt and plunges it in the arm of the man who stalks him from the behind. The muted shock drawn on the man’s face is painted in blood. She holds out her hand for the sword now.

“The Emperor has not fallen!”

She snatches the wavering weapon and turns around to clear her way not allowing the man a moment to object.

“He has not!”

The streets bare of snow are swapped to blankets of untrodden whiteness when they enter the first thicket of trees. The forest line swallows them, quick hushed up feet carrying the small party away from peering eyes in minutes. The trail of blood stops, there are no more chasing guard, no more collateral damage. Jang Mi allows her weapon to clatter on the now tainted snow when she sets her eyes upon Anjong. He had never looked dearer.

Baek Ah does not wait for her to approach him, instead he pulls her into a brotherly embrace. The fur that he wears engulfing her into warm folds of safety. She had never realized how tall he is, for she has to rise on her tip toes to throw her arms around his neck. There is something that reminds her of Seo Kyung about him, perhaps the way he places his hand on her head, pressing his mouth to her hair. Or simply how easy it is to break apart when he hides her tears from the rest of strangers.

Even if for a moment, it feels as if she had not lost her brother.

“I’m glad you are safe,” he tells her warmly when she finally pulls herself together enough to look up at him. His eyes glint with moisture and she knows that the shallow loss eating her up, he feels it too.

“He - he -”

“My brother would not want you to weep,” he squeezes her shoulder. “We should leave as soon as Sister Nakrang arrives. You should be going North - your lands offer you a better chance at a -”

“Why do you refer to him as if he is dead?” She asks him bluntly, finally the numbness that had befallen her starts to wear off. She feels the beginning of fury seeping through her. “How dare you suggest that -”

“Jang Mi - yah,” his hands are heavy on her shoulders, his eyes sparkle now. Baek Ah presses his mouth into a line, his jaw working furiously. “Jang Mi - yah…” he says again, hopelessly, his voice cracking.

“No!” She shakes her head, her knees buckling. It cannot be the last time they see each other. Not like this. Not without a goodbye. Not now - “No!”

“You have the support of Kims and Parks, if the Hwangbos are foolish enough to bring an army up north they would suffer terribly. Take the children - the Hwangbos cannot touch you in North.”

“He cannot go…he cannot…”

“I am to take you North,” he says finally, straightening, his fists clenching. He bows over her. “That was his last command.”

She gasps over the hurt it causes, the words seem to punch her in the gut. Baek Ah draws her close, disregarding the protocol. She presses her face against his shoulder, gasping for air, clenching fistfuls of his fur. “Don’t ever forgive me,” he mutters against her hair. Hate me - Sister, I’ve failed you. I’ve failed myself.”

“Grand Prince Anjong!” The shout, abrupt and sharp breaks them apart. She feels him tensing before she steps away and turns. The same chill, fear - now that she knows its name - stirs in the pit of her stomach.

It is the shadow party that went to bring Nakrang - they return injured, carrying the bleeding Grand Princess.

“Nui!”

 Baek Ah rushes to her, but Jang Mi cannot move. The sinking feeling inside her is familiarly sickening. The loss - it has only begun.

“What happened?” Baek Ah is demanding. But she speaks before the men answers.

“Where is first princess Seol?”

Silence - ominous and thinly stretched like the membrane of a drum, it waits for her to pound upon it.

“Where is my daughter?”

**

Notes:

And so begins the final leap. ;-)

Chapter 61: Hunt

Summary:

Anyone that walks into a trap does not end up becoming a prey.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She could count the passing minutes by the crunching footfall outside her tent. Baek Ah reads her too well and knows that she will not remain with his party for long. Jang Mi hates how accurate his intuition is; it will only end up causing hurt to people who does not deserve it. There is no man that could contain her now - knowing that her child is in the hands of the Hwangbos. Not even Baek Ah would manage to take her North. She doesn’t care if it is what they expect her to do - if it is a trap being laid out. If it indeed is a trap, they would have no use of her baby once she makes it clear that she has no intention of walking into it. No; that is a risk she cannot afford.

At least, she has more than three needles to arm herself with. Jang Mi knows how foolishly blunt her action would be - she herself would have laughed at how easy she was being now - the disposed queen - or was it the uncrowned queen? But she knows time will not change her mind for she takes time, washing her face in the basin they provide, pleating her hair. She gives the shadows keeping an eye on her enough to keep them fooled - or bored. She strips slowly, knowing the men spying on her moves would avert their eyes out of respect. It is only then that she turns to the weapons. Blades have always been her speciality. Perhaps not long, broad ones that his majesty favoured - with their heavy hilt and weight they needed strength. Jang Mi favored shorter, pointed knives, daggers, hair - pins that kill. She liked them jeweled, carved, glided - often so that her jewellery box was a smaller armory itself.

She opens the small, weathered chest, hand carved by one of her father’s retainers - many winters back. And she chooses with care the blades that she would don, strap to her calf, wear on her waist or insert in her coiffure. She wears black over it all - the color of her ancestors, now that there was no pretence left, she takes comfort in the familiar dark fur of predators. Jang Mi takes the needles as an after thought. She tucks them into her sleeve, secured against her wrist - a prickling reminder of a last resort where all else fails.

Then she stops and breathes.

It is a pity that she would have to hurt friends before she hurts foe. She flexes her fingers and puffs out an exhale. It is what friends do. It was the justification So gave her for burning PatPat - his friend. Friends understand. She hopes that he is right - hopes it will be enough to ease her guilt.

They don’t even hear her. She hopes it is to her credit instead of their shortcoming, these men would have to guard the others until they escape the shadow of danger. She takes them out with needles, buying herself an hour or so before they would wake up again. But then she runs into court lady Noh by a slight miscalculation. Jang Mi did not predict they would send someone to fetch her untouched dinner - did not prepare herself to go through the old woman’s perceptive eyes. Oh she reads her too well - perhaps better than Baek Ah.

“Mama,” she says, before kneeling, touching the hems of her skirt. “I beg of you - don’t go. It is this old servant that failed you. This old servant -”

“I’m going to kill him.” She startles herself by how cold and indifferent she is to the idea. Lady Noh freezes at the words, to her credit the woman does not flinch. “This is not my surrender - lady Noh.

Lady Noh will not rise her head. Jang Mi feels as if she is holding her breath as the anticipation - or is it knowing - burns in her airways. No matter how much the remorse hurt her later - the thought of blood that stained her hands - Jang Mi is certain that she would commit murder if a single hair on her baby’s head was harmed. When lady Noh does look up she reads the murder in her eyes well enough and the lines of regret around her eyes softens a little and her eyes fill with guilt.

“Forgive me - Mama.”

She doesn’t reply. She cares for the old woman, knows that the freezing ground is no place for her to remain kneeling, but speech is locked somewhere dark within her and her open mouth simply gasp for more frozen air.

“I’m going to kill him.” She wonders why the words do not leave any taste in her mouth. Surely, she had once felt an affection for that man - had once wished to spend her life with him - had done it twice over, in two different life times. The determination has settled itself as a block of ice - heavy and punishingly cold - crushing any traces of tenderness left upon her heart. “I do not deserve this hatred of Hwangbos - I do not deserve to be pawned for his greater schemes. I - I’ve been honest, loyal to him if I had not loved - I do not deserve to be treated so. He killed my brother, my father and half the clan soldiers - He will not take the rest of my family from me. I am going to kill him.”

She makes a sharp turn mindlessly reaching for the reins of the nearest horse only to have lady Noh grip her elbows and pull her back. Only when she struggles against her,  a growl ripping from her parched throat that she starts to feel the prickling sense of reality over the numbness that had befallen her. The older woman is stronger than she looks, sturdier in her moves.

“Leave me!!”

“No.” She says firmly. “Get a grip of yourself, Mama!”

Tears come then, hot and angry - blurring her vision and burning her eyes. How could she look at her so disappointedly, wanting her to behave like a queen when it is her child - her baby - in the hands on the enemy.

“Can’t you see?” Lady Noh continues in the rational voice she is beginning to hate. “This is what he wants. Are you that predictable, Mama? Are you quite so easy a target?” She holds her by the shoulders and shakes her. “Do not make the grand prince regret his decision to throw the weight of his clan behind you - mama.”

Jang Mi draws a harsh breath through her open mouth.

“Did High General Park speak similar words when he wanted the fourth prince to show him merit of his cause by throwing me away?”

The well placed question makes lady Noh freeze, her grip faltering. But her eyes never wavers.

“I am sorry the Kims got involved in this. I am sorry how much they lost on my behalf. But what kind of a queen would I make if I would throw away my child to secure my own power. I don’t want to become a queen like the dead dowager Yoo.”

It halts her. Lady Noh’s eyes widens at the mention of the dead queen mother - her steady hands tremble. She should have reflected on that, inquired what the old court lady knew of the queen long gone - but Jang Mi does not have time for that.

“I do not plan to die - Lady Noh,” she says, swinging herself atop her mount. “But you shouldn’t let the Grand prince wait for me.”

**

The day dawns in strokes of blood over the skies of Song Ak as the Hwangbo prince watches from the guard tower. The garrison armies have been mobilized, patrolling the capital in armed groups of wary men - and the power to move them, have them adhere to his word makes him heady. Inhaling the frost of late winter he allows the rising sun - his namesake, to bask him - and watches over the city, feeling for the first time the prickling sense of thrill that comes with reins on his hand. Soon - his reign would begin.

It was a matter of synchronizing events. A bit of a gamble - staking things he did not yet possess against other things that he wanted. Politics after all was a game of cards - depending on how well you read your opponent.

He had the king.

He had means of controlling his queen.

It was only a matter of time until the rest of it comes willingly into his palm.

He closes his eyes, allowing himself a sense of satisfaction. It had been hard, devastating road to follow - he had lost a lot more than he would have wanted. But still - he has proven them all wrong. Just being observant as he always was.

Jang Mi would not have been so easily coaxed - but Jang Mi intercepted by Soo … was a different matter. She might be his weakness, as he admitted to himself in his darkest hours but Wook knew Hae Soo - knew her well. He knew what drove her down the cliff every time. Even death has not changed her.

He sees the spot of blackness in the horizon a long before the guard of the watchtower notices her. There is a twisted sense of accomplishment in his heart. He had placed his odds well. The wonderfully brave and foolishly reckless thing that she was - she rides straight, without slowing her pace, without a crease on her impassive face. Not his Soo - no, of cause not. The dark colors of Kangs and the pleated hair - the growl deep in her throat and the blood on her jewelled blades - not the kind, sunny Soo that healed his battered disappointments - but the warrior that he had ensnared into his ploy.

He cannot watch her without recalling the first time he had seen her, even though her face had been different. She reminds of an arrow laced with poison - decorated by softest, most colorful feathers - straight - unbending - never knowing when to retreat or how to. The sense of danger - the sharp wit that makes his heart pound - he feels the same recognition burn its way through his veins.

He had truly believed this woman might succeed in taking his brother’s life, being the willfully decadent and deceivingly fragile thing that she is. He had envisioned So falling the same way he had.

His heart still pounds has he watches her tearing through the guard -those soft hands - he thinks with a wave of heat - ripping through skin, flesh and bones. It seems he had touched a right nerve somewhere that the lady of Kangs seemed less a lady - more one of the beasts her aunt was reputed to tame.

“WANG WOOK!”

She bellows, just before sending an ornate dagger flying towards him. It impales the wood, where his head had been a moment before and Wook catches his breath. Their eyes meet and hold and his lips curl into a slow smile.

“I don’t think you should be doing that - mama,” he says kindly, mockingly - as he plucks the toddler from the arms of a shivering Court Lady and holds her against him - raised in the air, where she could be easily seen and targeted if one wished to. “A slight slip of hand would make you cry.”

He watches her inhale, allows her eyes to take their fill of the child. For her credit - the so proclaimed ‘first princess’ waves her arms and exclaims. “Omma!”

“Oh hush,” he tells the baby. “You should address her as your lady mother, you silly girl.”

“You will leave her now,” she says - her eyes never wavering. “You leave her now or I will tear you apart.”

“I’m sure you do not want me to leave her now…” he says thoughtfully. “It is quite a steep fall from here.”

“WOOK!”

“I’m sure we will come to some consensus,” he presses on. “Drop the weapons Jang Mi - yah, or you shall be responsible for what your daughter goes through. Drop it and come in peace - there are things my lady mother wishes to speak with you.”

The remaining guard approach her slowly, hesitating and fearful as if she is anything but a rabid dog. None of them manages to touch her though.

“I will not be brought into my own city a prisoner.”

Wook laughs at that.

“If you think chains make a prisoner - mama,” he bows mockingly. “Walk in as a queen.”

Notes:

There is a conversation to be had with the dowager Hwangbo, I think getting Jang Mi inside their walls might cost them more than they are willing to afford. What do you think?
Thanks for dropping by, even when I think I've been dragging you along with this story for so long. Now we are at the very end I promise! :-P
On an unrelated note, any Flower of Evil fans here? You might like to take a look at my AU on FOE. I'd like so see some old face if you do decide to check it out. It's titled KARMA and you can find the link on my profile. :-)

Chapter 62: A scintilla of a dead woman

Summary:

Face off of the queens and what a scintilla of a dead woman can change in the great game of fate.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Wook watches her enter and battles with how perplexed he feels with her indifference. Of all the women he had encountered, none had ever been indifferent to him. He is accustomed to being looked up to, being the icon of hope, of inspiration, of devotion, admiration or plain envy - apathy therefore, leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He had wanted her to curse him probably, or perhaps to try and do some real - lasting damage. After all the tale of the king’s Rose and three needles had reached his ears.

Disappointment must have colored his face, for when he meets her eye, there is a devastatingly malicious sense of satisfaction in them. Her lips curl into something sharp and cruel that no one would mistake for a smile as she steps closer.

“Oh don’t you worry - I’ve imagined at least ten different ways of cutting your throat on this very threshold. But then again, you know how I like my tea - dear brother in law, I like them steeped too long until the bitterest essence is squeezed out.” She drawls on the title that she chooses to address him with, informal enough to irk him but legitimate enough that he cannot fault her for not using his honorifics.

Wook steps back into the shadow of his guards, though - and he assures himself of this - he is in no way intimidated. Lady Kang had always been gifted with her tongue, he would be a fool if he falls for her pretence of bravado when he knows - very well at that - that this game is his.

“Divest Her Grace of her weapons.”

She arches a brow in perfect imitation of her beastly husband and his guard falters. Wook has to swallow to ease the tension that builds at his throat where the pulse is pounding against his airway. “In the name of the Emperor!” He has to remind the guards. Still they hesitate and the sarcasm is open and dripping from the look Jang Mi gives him.

“It takes a lot more than a man with a jade seal to deprive a Kang woman of her weapons.”

Sarcasm he could swallow and almost manage to smile with ease. This is the Jang Mi that Wook knew, the one that he almost married - that proud tilt of her chin, fire in her eyes and the edge to each word she spoke - he knew exactly how to handle her.

But the fate does not allow him the pleasure.

“Maybe all it takes is another woman.”

His mother walks out leisurely. In her gait is a confidence that he has seldom seen. Wook stiffens uncomfortably when the dowager Hwangbo comes to stand beside him.

“You are not the first woman to take pride in her heretic origins,” she allows her eyes to sweep over Jang Mi in a manner that draws and highlights the similar features she shared with her daughter. “I’ve longed to have a conversation with you - lady Kang,” she draws out the misplaced address and smiles sharply. “In my old years I tend to grow lonely. It is only natural that I had to find someone else to keep me company till you saw it profitable to accept my invitation.”

Jang Mi’s brows draw together in a mild sign of distress.

“Will you join me now or shall we keep Gyeonhwa waiting for a while longer?”

Wook notices the moment her facade cracks. Only someone with as sharp and knowing eye as his would have noticed her shoulders dropping a fraction.

“Perhaps Lady Kang does not mind some more blood on her hands lady mother,” he interjects almost innocently unable to help himself. The pleasure he could derive when it is his word that tips the balance of an argument is too much to concede to his mother - not when it is his efforts that she is reaping. He watches with satisfaction how her lower lip trembles. It is uncanny how - a scintilla - of Hae Soo renders Jang Mi powerless, susceptible. Gyeonhwagun should not matter to her - would not have mattered to her, had she truly been herself.

His mother doesn’t bother to repeat his command, just a gesture of her elegant, silver head is enough for the men he couldn’t maneuver on the emperor’s name. The first man that steps ahead snatches her sword without a struggle and two others apprehend her by the shoulders.

“You’ve made quite a spectacle - lady Kang,” says the dowager Hwangbo, her tone disapproving. “I am obliged in the name of my old friend to try and install some values in you which she clearly failed. Let us take this conversation somewhere more appropriate.”

She turns and walks back in, the guards dragging Jang Mi after them. Wook waits for a moment longer after the women had disappeared inside the walls, a nagging sense of doubt threatening to overtake his momentary bliss.

It had been too easy. Too easy to be true.

**

He has never played an easier hand. Wook wonders if he should arrange a tutor for the girl once their engagement is finalized. This lady Kang is the poorest opponent he had ever encountered.

“Do you play often, lady Kang?” He asks pleasantly, smiling at the young woman who sits before him - holding one of the black pieces between her fingers as she surveyed the game.

“I used to when my brother was in Shinju. Now that he is serving his majesty I’m afraid my skills have grown rusty.” She replies and places the piece, defending again. Wook sighs to himself. She had been defending his moves the entire game - so much so that the board was full of his pieces surrounding hers. He was growing tired of how easy this was becoming.

“You defend spectacularly,” he praises instead and is grateful when she ducks her head with a bashful smile. “But battle chess is not always about defending.”

He picks out one of his pawns and situates it in an attacking position.

“Now see here - if it had been a real battle, you just lost your grand general.”

She nods, studious and a little star - struck. Her cheeks are warm pink, as if she is ashamed of her own lack of foresight.

“I’ve never seen this game as a battle,” she confesses what he had already guessed. “You see I am never to march with troupes.” She surveys the board again and smiles once more. There is an edge to that smile however. “I was never required to learn battle field realities -”

“You can change it when you are -”

“I am above the battle field,” she cuts him off, her tone growing cooler. “I was taught to think not like the men that march to battle but like the man on whose order they march.” Her eyes gleam at him, no longer bashful or awed. “You see the difference,” she picks another piece and twirls it in her hand. “…between the two is that the soldier do not have time - the monarch does. The soldier cannot wait - a king can. And ultimately the victory is not the soldier’s but the king’s.”

She places it where his pawn had moved into and Wook feels his brows gathering. He had missed something - vital.

“If you want to win - your highness,” she says slyly now, her moves devovering his pieces as she goes, no longer defensive but attacking, forcing him into the corner. She had simply pretended to play a lousy game while maneuvering him exactly where she had needed him to be. The wicked thing! “…You should think like a king, instead of a follower of his command.”

“You play quite well.” He admits despite himself.

She bows now, graceful but radiating power.  

“I see this game as revenge and I like revenge how I like my tea. Steeped too long and extracted to the last of its bitter essence. “

**

Perhaps he should stop his mother. Wook thinks feeling the creases of his forehead digging in making themselves known. This has to be a ploy that woman has thought up - the lady of Kangs was one poisonous rose that could kill even when it is scattered on the ground. But - he pauses, he is no longer certain if his mother would be willing to listen. The last time he had seen her so thrilled she had ordered some vital political pawn killed.

“I don’t think you wish to fight anymore,” she tells Jang Mi, reaching with maternal warmth to wipe a drop of blood trickling down her chin. She steps back for a moment assessing the damage before taking her seat, gracefully as if it was a throne instead of a wooden chair of an investigation room. “After all you should think about the baby.”

Without the context her words sound concerned. She bounces Seol on her knee in a grandmother -ly fashion even when her gray eyes remain threateningly sharp.

“You shouldn’t have escaped the guards lady Kang,” she continues unhurriedly. “They would not have harmed you. In fact, I had already arranged with them for you to be brought here. I still have need of you. Your escape only created unwanted hurdles for my objectives.”

“You cannot kill me,” Jang Mi summarizes.

“Yet,” his mother corrects. “Your life would only burden the reign of my son - you and your children.”

“Your son is no longer a part of the line of inheritance!”

“It can easily be corrected.” His mother contradicts dismissively. “There are no other princes of better title. And you have only Anjong to blame for this delay. Had he not removed the princess of Ryu from my plans I did not have immediate need of you.”

Jang Mi takes that information calmly. Baek Ah did not tell her he had reached any sort of understanding with Seo Nui, but it seemed he had. “Still,” the old dowager continues. “You are easier to move - are you not lady Kang? After all I expected more from the Ryu Princess. I misunderstood her reasons. You on the other hand are easier to understand - we are similar you and I - mothers bound by the betterment of their children.”

She draws in to a surprised pause when Jang Mi snorts a laughter.

“It’s amusing how many women believe they are similar to me. My aunt had made the same mistake.” She tells the old woman. “The difference is - your ladyship tends to talk too much with your enemy.” She folds her arms, enjoying the flicker of irritation crossing the woman’s eyes. “I longed for a conversation with your ladyship as well. The woman lingering in the shadows…the tiger flower phoenix.”  

The words dawn upon the wrinkled face, etching her features in stone.

“There are questions that a dead woman left behind - I think your ladyship could answer.”

The woman trips when she rises to her feet, worried eyes drifting to his son who watches them from the threshold. Jang Mi does not let the opportunity slip by, as she snatches Seol from those trembling arms.

“You -!”

“You cannot kill me yet,” she reminds her of her own earlier gloating. “And if I am correctly assuming your need of me - perhaps this bargain is not as easy as you thought it would be.”

“Don’t forget lady Kang I have -”

“You don’t have Gyeonhwa,” Jang Mi cuts her off. “If you did you’d have brought that thing and demanded me to read it.” Her cool logic silences the old woman, even as her face darkens with anger. “No. You calculated to bargain one against the other did you not? You will get Gyeonhwa to come by holding me captive. She is not here yet. If you wish to corporate you will give me what I want in return. You will answer my questions.”

“You are forgetting your place - lady Kang. I could very well have your daughter killed. Do you wish that to happen?”

Jang Mi remains impassive, yet her grip tightens on the baby she holds against herself.

“Kill her and you will never know what is written on that penitent’s confession.”

The dowager growls, as if she had physically harmed her. There is an obsession distorting her face, unlike any she had seen before.

“Mother,” Wook sounds pleading, half frightened himself.

“Throw her in the dungeons!” The dowager screams, “throw her! Take her away from my sight! Take her!”

Jang Mi inhales deeply. Madness does not scare her, her aunt had been a very proficient teacher in bouts of madness. But now that she pushes on, finally when the pieces have started to move the way she wanted an odd realization takes hold of her.

“You killed her - did you not? You killed the queen.”

Notes:

Oh the sweet revelations that will follow... Finally we come back to the clue I left in chapter three, the dying declaration of Jang Mi's childhood companion?
Where do you think she got involved with the dowager? And why? *food for thought*
Thanks for reading.

Chapter 63: Fool's Rule - I

Summary:

One thread untangles itself.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She waits for the multitude of winter stars to drown her, the last few words of her song, the swirling exhale of Seol as she burrows sleepily into her neck and then she exhales slowly, allowing second thoughts to come. Jang Mi played a dangerous hand, a double edged hand, she’d have to be a fool not to realize that. The war was coming, there was no denying or escaping. She will bring it to her grounds, her terms since it has come to that. The war will happen in Shinju. That will give the Hwangbos enough reason to keep So alive. They will never find another man who knows the terrains better, or could make her father’s men kneel faster. What she needed now was a bait to dangle before them. There could be nothing better than the penitent’s confession.

 The cells are freezing, open to the winter sky. She’s heard tales of miserable men who died in captivity of Hwangbos. It is a torture of different sorts, exposing a feeble minded criminal to the mercy of nature - to wear and break - or die without staining their hands. Cold as it befits their dowager, the woman who had spent an entire lifetime scheming, collecting women of her husband’s inner court like coin to be spent on her greater ambitions. Jang Mi could see Seol’s breath and the sharp edge of guilt presses against her conscious. She holds the child tighter, wrapped in her own cloak.

There are times when she half wishes to go back to being Hae Soo, or even Ha Jin thousand years apart would do. Sometimes the life of walking knife edges that Jang Mi is supposed to live is as tiresome if not more as the betrayals Ha Jin lived through or the longings Hae Soo died with. Perhaps becoming a queen was simply not a matter of stealing a star. 

She clenches and unclenches her fist. Her joints ache against the cold. Seol is thankfully warm and dozing if not fully asleep. She is one of the handful of good things on the brighter side of becoming Jang Mi. Nobody tried to separate her from her baby anymore. 

She gazes up at the stars once more. Her timing had been perfect, she had to believe that. There was not a moment to waste. Half the strategy, she reminded herself, was in timing the blow. Half in the patience to wait. Strength played no part. 

“Fools,” she said out loud, allowing the air to burn her throat. “Burned the world - and built kingdoms upon the ashes.” 

It still sounded right. Fools made riots, fools went against the king who could order their heads off and fools made new nations. No soul in Goryeo would deny that. Except perhaps one. 

She amused herself with how well she could recall his face. That Wang So who was a hostage of her people - that tall, bony, world - wary - child that he was no more. He was hardly a child, seventeen and battle - worn, just before he left the Kangs for good. They had met in the most unlikely place of all, her Aunt’s chambers. 

Her Aunt had laughed finding the idea amusing that she did not take it as an insult to be called a fool. There is ice in her amusement too, bristling and chilly when she throws her head back and laugh. Ah Ri joins in, a heedless wicked cow following  where the rope leads. 

“Does it please you then?” She asked her, raising a thin eyebrow in muted challenge. “To be called a fool by bastards of your father?” That cuts short Ah Ri’s laugh, her head hanging low as she chews on her bottom lip. “To throw away your dignity in this manner just to learn a few sword strikes? Foolish girl!”

“Fools made this nation, your ladyship.” So stands there, on the threshold of the ominously dingy chamber looking as cynical as ever. “They burned perfectly good farmland and rose in arms instead of following the mundane life of their forefathers and conquered kingdoms.”

Concubine Kang’s lip twitches, she bites on it hard enough to draw blood. Her nails scratch against the silk of her armrest. 

“Fools made you’re a queen,” So finishes, bowing respectfully as if it would remedy the scathing final remark, “Lady mother.”

“You are back,” concubine Kang manages. “By heaven’s blessings completely unharmed .”

“I got delayed due to some crazed wolves,” he matches her tone in ice and hatred. “Bandits at the borders were a lot kinder.”

She laughs again, this time her eyes narrowing. Jang Mi swallows because she reads her so well. Her father would be hearing this, most probably would be paying a hefty price for this failure.   

“Cousin?” He turns to her nonchalantly. 

She remembers her manners, especially when the woman to ingrain them into her was watching with narrowed eyes. More so, because it is wickedly pleasing to watch her Aunt tasting her own bitter medicine. She bowed with a flourish. 

“Kang Jang Mi greets the fourth prince.”

He catches on quickly, noticing his adoptive mother’s clenching fingers, or perhaps her tone itself gives her away. He nods at her, frustratingly dismissive.

“You are dismissed.”

Oh the sweet pleasure of watching someone pull rank on her aunt, especially someone who outranks them both. Jang Mi doesn’t wait for her aunt to confirm or deny the order. Instead she lifts her skirts and rushes out of the stifling chamber. She doesn’t leave though. Victory still sweet on her tongue, she lingers outside - watching the winter stars - enjoying the cool night air after an evening spent shut inside her aunt’s boiling room.

“It must be the only thing I agree with Concubine Kang,” he tells her as he approaches. “You indeed are a fool cousin.”

“She dismissed you quite fast - Orabeoni,” she cannot read him in shadows, but the weary shoulders give away his fatigue.

“Are you still sneaking up on people to learn fighting?” He doesn’t look at her but the question is directed at him. “I thought your brother teaches you enough?”

“I did not spy on them to learn,” she snorts. “I was comparing notes. You cannot take on an opponent unless you are familiar with his style.”

“Fool,” he resonates. “You won’t have a chance to observe everyone you’ll end you fighting.”

She tilts her chin. 

“Who knows - perhaps I will. I might end up a fool that made a nation.”

His expression darkens at that and she cannot help but ask. “What is the matter?”

“Fools do make nations. But they should not rule them.”

She never went around asking him the meaning of those words. A phrase she had heard repeated for several years then on, Fools should not rule. The last letter her brother had sent home, before his capture and later execution carried only those words. 

Fools should not rule.

Did it stand for something she had not yet worked out? Was she close too finding out? 

“Aggassi…” the voice is muted in the darkness, but her ears refined with years of training picks it up quite easily. Jang Mi pats the baby so as to tuck away her thoughts - one pawn goes down just as predicted. 

Da Yeong approaches her with hesitant steps, the guilt stark on her expression. Perhaps Jang Mi was not a fool anymore. For she played them in the tips of her fingers. She knew Da Yeong would come - but she did not celebrate her victory - not yet - she has not yet acquired what she wanted. There was a reason why she said what she did to the Hwangbo Dowager - within earshot of Da Yeong. The Tiger Flower Phoenix…

She waits for her to approach closer, stand right outside her cell. 

“You can’t call me Aggassi Da Yeong - ah, I’m married now.”

Da Yeong bites her lip, her hands trembling. 

“Why are you doing this - my lady?” She asks desperately. “Why must you go against the Prince? Why can’t you just -”

Give up?” She suggests bitterly. “Is that what you did Da Yeong? Is that why you allowed them to kill your sister?”

Da Yeong shakes her head desperately, her lips trembling. 

“I didn’t! I - Aggassi you have misunderstood!”

“Have I?” She raises her eyebrows. “Did you truly not know what was happening with your sister?”

The girl falls to her knees clasping the bars of her cell, banging her forehead against them. 

“Please Aggassi - it cannot be true.”

“She was killed you know that - Da Yeong. I could have stopped it. But you kept me in the dark.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t -” She cants. 

“I don’t know who you worked for - why you did it. But you hid things from me. Did you not? Why the prince Da Yeong - what gives your allegiance to him?”

“He - the queen promised me to find what happened to her.”

“The queen is dead.” Jang Mi says flatly. “But why the queen would promise you something like that?”

Da Yeong doesn’t answer. Jang Mi doesn’t expect her to. 

“If you didn’t want to tell me Da Yeong,” she says instead. “You wouldn’t have come here in the dead of the night. If you are still battling with your morals and curiosity please do it somewhere else.”

“Did her ladyship the dowager really -”

Jang Mi chooses not to entertain the question, keeping in line with the frustration of her previous words. She watches though, with a keen eye as Da Yeong fidgets. 

“Sun Yeong accompanied the queen for a while when she was in the palace. When she followed your brother to the palace - Aggassi.” She swallowed. “She didn’t write to you. I didn’t know what happened. But when I went to bring her back, after her baby died - she had a box of letters in her possession. Letters your brother wrote back home and she had stopped them from leaving.”

“The dowager asked for them did she not? Da Yeong have you given them to the queen?”

She shakes her head. 

“How did you know my brother wrote them when you cannot read?”

“They had his mark upon them - those letters.” She wept. “Aggassi - the dowager asked for them. Asked if there were any writing from the traitor - I was afraid they would implicate the family - would implicate you - so I - I did not tell her.”

“And you lived because of that. Da Yeong - where are the letters?”

She presses closer to the bars and pushes her hand through them holding out a little carved box that she knows well - it had carried Sun Yeong’s combs once. 

“Go now.” Jang Mi tells her simply. “If you wish to do justice to your sister, you must not be discovered Da Yeong - ah.”

“They will kill you Aggassi - this is foolishness. Do you know Song Dal is out? Do you know he’s hunting for Gyeonhwagun Gongjunim?”

“Go -” she nods. “I will not die like your sister.”

She waits until the maid walks away, until she can no longer hear her muffled feet. Then she takes out the letters. 

They are not written to her - or their father or anyone at Shinju. 

The letters are addressed to grand prince Anjong. 

Notes:

As you might have guessed from the title there's more to this chapter where we shall see what is written in those letters Baek Ah was supposed to receive.
Thanks for reading, I hope you are still there interested in what happens to this particular story. Please share your thoughts so I'll know you are there. It feels a lot like I'm talking to myself in this thread. 😭

Chapter 64: Fool's Rule - II

Summary:

A fool sets the fate in motion.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The script of her brother scattered in those pages called to her like a half forgotten lullaby. Ha Jin marveled at the memory, Jang Mi swallowed the grief, even in the starlight, the penmanship called her home and her throat tightened. Part of her had  grown up with the man whose hand had produced the words put on those letters, so interwoven she was with that old part of her soul that her eyes blurred with tears for the man he was - for the brother stolen from her. But then the part of her soul that was Ha Jin, the future reminded, she had the same brother - although younger to her in that life - waiting for her at home thousand years apart. She smoothed out the letter, reading in the scraps of starlight - the secrets Sun Yeong made her brother carry to his grave. 


“I have considered my options. Have done so again and again. To whom these tidings must be brought I consider again as I write. There are three people that I can think of. His majesty, my sister and the thirteenth prince. I have denied myself of an audience with his majesty, in his grieving I do not wish to bring him more burden to deal with. If my suspicions are proved to be correct, I do not wish to tangle my sister in the vicious web of resulting consequences. Hence I write to you, your highness with all due respect - I beg you return to your imperial brother’s side. 

If I am to act on my doubts, if I am to fail, I wish you would take up the mantle of leading the shadows in your imperial brother’s name. If it is to happen I wish by then you would consider it a duty owed to an old friend - a mentor - as you once called me - to accept the grand prince title his majesty wishes to bestow upon you.

 

You asked me once, during our brief interaction as student and mentor, did it not bother me to die a shadow, deeds of my valor known only to the men of wind and dust, but a forgotten man to the history. These evenings I find myself pondering the same, and I find myself ailed by memories of my hometown and family. I have twice committed a letter to my sister and stalled my hand. I owe her an apology, for I have committed the gravest folly by tying her fate with a clan as twisted as the Hwangbs. Now to relieve her of it would be to cage her in yet another elaborate prison of decorum. My father may try yes, the courtiers at his bidding might follow - yet a union with your imperial brother would bring nothing but grief to her. His majesty is incapable of loving another and Jang Mi is incapable of doing things by half measures. If the matters forthwith are brought to light by undesirable people, loveless marriage would be the least of her concerns. I consider it my duty to repent for sins unknowingly committed. 


Therefore I have chosen to die a man, not forgotten, but misunderstood. A man who chose to die rather than betray. A man who chose his sister. If it is her fate to become a queen, I hope and pray it is to a nation no longer pressed under the thumb of Hwagbos and for that I Kang Seo Kyeong would lay down my life. You will receive this letter through shadow channels. The records I’ve kept of my investigations that I send with this will speak on my behalf. 


I wish to be forgotten, your highness. I will destroy the roots of treason that I cannot reveal without losing all I hold dear. The consequences I take as punishment of my own ignorance. I hope you would see to it that my family is not branded traitors before the real treachery is revealed.”


Her trembling hand drops the well worn paper, her heart stalling on its beat. Please - she prays - it cannot be what I think it is. Jang Mi fumbles with the bound notes. She takes them to be the records of his investigations that Seo Kyeong spoke of in his letter. The letter that never reached the man it was addressed to. Sun Yeong, it seemed had measures of intercepting into shadow channels that her brother was not aware of. Sun Yeong - it all points towards her. 

“Don’t trust her,” she had said. “Tiger flower phoenix shadow.”

She opens the records of her brother instead and they do speak on his behalf, in his neat but smudged handwriting that fill the papers. 


Lady Hae’s death comes as an unwarranted tragedy. Had she been shadowed, matters could have ended differently. The knowledge burdens his majesty, the misfortune could have been averted. The long term poisoning could have been discovered. To spare further heartbreak the investigation will continue without being reported at every stage. Once the traitors are revealed they shall be brought before his majesty. 


Apprentice of the physician attached to estate of fourteenth prince killed by unknown assailants upon being discovered. On her person tally from the queen’s pavilion was recovered. The queen has entered her last trimester and visits to her pavilion are being restricted. 

Guards of Hwangbo estate recognizes the dead woman by face. The other woman seen in her company identified as a visiting Shaman from Ryu. 

Investigations at the end of Queen’s pavilion handed over to her majesty’s shadow. 


There is a traitor among the shadows. The opponent remains two steps ahead at every juncture. Sun Yeong has refused to see me again. Though I contribute her fragile temper to her progressed pregnancy, doubts on her behaviour cannot be discarded. She is unfit to carry her duty as the queen’s shadow. If she has forgone her oath to the shadow forces, what could hold her fancy now? Could she be the traitor I am searching for within? …. am I to order an investigation on the mother of my firstborn?



Hwangbo Dowager arrives as the time for queen’s delivery draws closer. The shaman from Ryu a part of her retinue, now in the guise of a senior court lady. Dowager’s shadow brings news that Sun Yeong could not. She speaks of a curse. The Dowager fears it passing down the royal line. 

The Shaman predicts queen will give birth to a girl. The conversation suggests this prediction has been made before. 



I have failed to give due attention to the birth of the crown prince as my own family affairs calls for my attention.

Sun Yeong has given birth to a girl. Her condition is delicate. There is no further news from the dowager’s shadow. 

She has my aunt’s eyes - my dear daughter. 


Jang Mi pauses at the irrelevant addition, scribbled with affection. She smooths the sentence with a fingertip, recalling with a pang to her heart the delicate, pale baby who died soon after. Did she truly have those stormy eyes of her aunt? Was it not what she thought after all…


Death of the dowager’s shadow had been unexpected. It brings the investigations to a halt. To kill a woman of such skill …only another shadow could have mastered the feat. Her body is yet to be examined.

My daughter is not to live long. Sun Yeong was not here when she came down with a seizure. I try not to antagonize myself against her but the matters are not aiding. 


….

From the corpse a broken tip of an hair ornament was recovered. I wish … it had not looked so familiar. Sun Yeong will have to explain her absence on the night she claimed to watch over her baby - but did not. A trap has to be laid for her. I hope and pray I would not find what I think I will. 



Sun Yeong is aware that the Shaman is in shadow captivity. Tonight she will make her move. 



Kang Seo Kyeong wishes she does not. But he has been hurt by broken wishes before. Sun Yeong has enough claims for her innocence. No one would take his word at face value that a pregnant woman had killed another - highly trained spy at that. But they were not privy to Seo Kyeong’s knowledge of the woman in question. No did they train her in hand to hand combat. He tires not to think of the broken hairpin they had to dug out of a dead woman’s throat. Bile rises up his when he does that, when he thinks back to the moment he had gifted the same to Sun Yeong. No matter how desperately he wished for - he could not be mistaken. 

The shaman watches him with eyes widened in horror, when he orders the shadows guarding her out. There is a sheen of sweat gathering at her brow and her lips tremble. 

“Am I to be a bait my Lord?” She rasps through cracked lips. 

He tilts his head, for the traitor the woman is he has very little compassion for her. 

“You should not have made me hunt for truth then,” he tells her. “There is still time. Are you willing to speak.”

The woman presses her cracked lips. 

“Will you save me from the consequences my Lord?”

He chooses not to reply to that. The silence seems to prick at the woman. 

“I was asked to take a look at lady Hae,” she says finally. “She was of no threat to the queen, her baby was a girl.”

“Your predictions aren’t always correct,” he points out. “Wanghu mama gave birth to a prince.”

The woman throws her head back and laughs, her parched throat makes the laughter sound like a wheezing. 

“And why does she need me dead if that is the case?”

Seo Kyeong pauses at that. The shadows had taken the woman from assassins that wanted her dead. The skill of those men had suggested the woman had valuable information. 

“The dowager,” nods the woman, her mouth curling with disgust. “…wants a baby untouched by the curse. An untainted baby to make her daughter the regent.”

“A regent she will not be - as long as -”

“Not for long,” the woman rasps. “The curse is strong. There is no woman of your aunt’s caliber to break her seal. Unless of cause she can be persuaded to do it.”

“Why would she do that?” Seo Kyeong turns to take in the surrounding once more.It is time. 

“Why indeed? Why do you think she cursed the throne in the first place My Lord? If her blood is not to sit on it -”

The woman draws silent abruptly, choking on her own words. It makes him turn sharply towards her, only to find her eyes wide, unfocused and glassy, blood spilling from her mouth. There is a dart lodged neatly into her air pipe - with venomous precision that he recognizes. The sound of blades being drawn outside is a tell - tale sign of the shadows he had stationed making their move, their footfall is no longer silent. The woman’s protests to captivity are loud and unmistakable. It is then that he throws open the door. Sun Yeong being brought to her knees is not a pleasant sight. He closes his eyes on it for a moment, daring the nightmarish realization. 

“Stop,” he tells her instead. “You can’t take on so many.”

The effect of his words is palpable on her. More heartbreaking is the betrayal in her eyes. 

“Unhand her,” he bids the shadows and tries not to see the surprise in their faces. The men he had trained, commanded and fought alongside reads the shame in his words. It only escalates the feeling ten times more. Sun Yeong rises to her feet shakingly, but refuses the arm he offers with vehemence. 

“You laid a trap for me!” She fires at him. 

A man behind her unsheaths his blade. Seo Kyeong’s glare stops his hand, still he glowers in indignation.  

“Address out lord with respect!”

Sun Yeong snorts but says nothing. Her silence is a tentative thing, easily forgone. Seo Kyeong does not believe her words will bring anything other than chaos. He needs to disperse the shadows. 

“Attend to the prisoner,” he says instead and waits for the men to leave. Sun Yeong fails to read the fury building up within him, she seems to think that he owed her an apology. 

“This is the third time you’ve left your baby’s side,” he notes. There is no regret in her eyes and Seo Kyeong notes with an icy jolt to his heart, no love either. He conjures up an image of the delicate white, gray eyed girl - his precious girl - could it be… He knows in his heart her answer before he makes up his mind to ask the question. Relationships - he realizes as the word leaves his mouth - can be dissolved in words, spoken and unspoken. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Repeats Sun Yeong, her eyes glitter rebelliously. “There is no worse fate than being a concubine’s son. But my lord, how would you know?”

Son - she said. Seo Kyeong thinks slowly, his ears are ringing, his brain reels before coming to a frozen halt. Son - Son!

He finds his fists clenched, his hands shaking. He cannot bring himself to repeat the word. Oh what a fool he had been! Has he brought doom upon his entire clan? For a moment his mind flashes back to the last letter from his father, who was seeking to propose his sister’s hand for his majesty. They had saved themselves from going down with the Hwangbos by a hair breadth. And now - and now …

The baby he thinks next. The delicate, precious, silver eyed girl. Oh dear, blessed lord!

“Is that child,” his voice falters. The girl would not live to complete a month. That girl child was the emperor’s daughter. The queen’s firstborn. Then - He clears his throat. “Did you exchange your baby with the queen’s? Sun Yeong - have you -”

“I made my son the nation’s crown prince!” The woman breathes, her eyes still glittering with maniac pleasure. “I -”

“You fool!” He growls, beside himself as her words crush the last of his hope to dust. “Sun Yeong you foolish woman!”

Notes:

So comes sun Yeong's story to its culmination. This explains why Yeon Hwa failed to curse So using HyoHwa. Of cause YH is unaware of the exchange and her mother the master mind behind it.
I think you would need time to wrap your head around what you've read. Therefore I leave you here for now, will return with another installment soon.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do share your thoughts.
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 65: Fool's Gold

Summary:

Beware of what the enemy allows to be snatched.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There is an abyss growing inside the shadows, a thing of unknown that scatters discord and doubts. Seo Kyeong knows his letters had not reached their destination, from his restrained place in the deepest dungeons he is not yet cut off from the news lines. Instead, to his horror word from his sister reaches him. I will save you - she says, blind to the very fact that these words could end up being the noose around her neck. Fooled as she is, tangled in sugar coated words of a traitor - he wishes he had more time with her to explain his own follies. Seo Kyeong could not die in peace with the knowledge of Jang Mi’s fate tied up with that treacherous clan. He did not intend to die the traitor they branded him - he could not. 

He wore the traitor’s guise willingly, just as he carried the charade of a madman. Any excuse that he had would ultimately only aid their cause, only bring the king to their heels. He would not aid the Hwangbos even in his death. 

Fools cannot rule - he writes his last reply to his sister. Hoping, even with her eyes blinded by love, she would recall the meaning attached to those words. She had to now that the traitor he fell in love with had returned to her and he suspected she carried with her the secrets he entrusted to the thirteenth prince. 

Chains clutter somewhere, calling him back to the hellish surroundings. The guardsmen do not meet his eye. A hand of ice clenches itself at his throat, he would not call it fear, yet he has to gulp. He cannot die a traitor he thinks again, rather foolishly, when he had led himself to this ending willingly. He was the lord of shadows, eyes and ears of the monarch, he cannot die with his duty half done - with his monarch blind to the storm brewing in his backyard. It would not do. He would not find peace. 

So doesn’t come to see him anymore. Neither does the shadows. They had came and begged, threatened, coaxed him to reveal the secret he was adamant to take to his grave. But none of them knew what happened to the letters he had entrusted to the shadow channels. The messenger was killed - that was all they knew. 

With his last step towards the court he remembers the first time he had seen his son, knowing as he did then that the spoon to touch his rosy mouth contained a dose of venom lethal for him. He had died then, he realizes. Perhaps not a traitor to the throne, but a traitor to the life he had created. He was dead since, a soul less, heartless thing with only life to be severed from the body. The emperor would do that. 

He remembers Sun Yeong’s eyes as she challenged him with her truth, when she accepted that she had indeed swapped the queen’s baby with hers. The fire in her eyes when he raged at her foolishness. “Sun Yeong you foolish woman!” He recalled his own words. It is then that he realized there was no turning for her. A woman who killed all who knew of her tainted secret, who had no second thoughts about tainting her hands with blood of the innocents - there was no salvation for her. The true horror it was to think that she is but a puppet - of a master whose greed to power ran through decades of tragedy. An untainted son who could made the queen a regent.  

He calmed himself with a deliberate exhale, as Sun Yeong watched with narrowed slits of eyes. 

“How do you plan to kill his majesty?” 

Sun Yeong blinks, her mouth twisting into a ugliest sneer. 

“Skin me alive, but I won’t tell you - my lord!”

He grabs her arm, pulls her closer - this vicious thing, how did he ever end up loving her? Perhaps he should kill her - end it now. But…his hand at her throat hesitates, partly from his own selfish desire to believe in her a little, partly from his need to use her just like she had used him all along - a pawn in the game.  

“Foolish of you,” he mutters against her ear. “To think I wouldn’t want my son on the throne.”

Her eyes flicker into his, distrusting, hesitant. He holds her gaze. I’ve kept the promise I made - he thinks - I have not lied to you, I have not offered what I cannot give. But then you decided to make a game of my love. I have no choice but to play.

And he plays, until the cards of the final hand are handed to him. Then he brings their game to its justified ending. But at the same time something he had not wanted falls into his hands as well. It is a secret he cannot take to his grave - yet - a secret he would not trust to paper and ink, as some foolish woman decades back had done. 

Contrary the popular belief that proceeded his death, the emperor did not behead him. He would not, Kang Seo Kyeong had always known. Instead his blade plunges into his gut as the last chance his monarch would offer him - last tribute of the brother he made over the years. One of his hands grip into Seo Kyeong’s shoulder, impaling him further upon the blade but at the same time pulling him closer. 

“Sun Yeong,” he breathes in Emperor’s ear. “ Sun Yeong - knows.”

Life flashes before him and So’s grip tightens. He hopes the emperor would find the last message he leaves carved in the stones of his prison, portions of his lost letter that he could recreate. He hopes that he makes sense of it in time and before others do. In the darkness that welcomes him he sees the stone walls of his cell swimming, with his carvings upon them. Find them - he prays - let me go in peace. 

Kim Chul Hyun is looking for a map. A map to find the arrow that shoots down a star.

**

The unease does not leave him when his men turns up victorious. Wook watches as his men bring back his niece and the shadow Jang Mi had send after her - the captain of the imperial guard. He thinks with doubtful disdain, so easily beaten for a man so well horned. 

“Where is Song Dal?” He asks instead, eyeing the men trepidation boiling forth. There is nothing wrong about them, at the same time, nothing is right about them. Song Dal would have wanted to fluent his success, show them that they had been right in rescuing him, right in trusting him with their most important missions. He had been the Dowager’s man since young. First entrusted to get the ear of the witch concubine Kang, to make the bridge between that woman and his mother. He had performed so well since. 

“We ran into a problem on the way, your highness -Song Dal - nim stayed back to take care of it.”

“He send word ahead,” his mother appears, gliding towards them in twilight. “Gyeonhwa -” her arms are spread in offering of an embrace. “How you’ve suffered..!”

Gyeonhwa rises her bound hands to wipe at her cut lip, a bruise blooming against her chin - surely the handy work of Song Dal, Wook tries to assure himself. 

“I’m sure you will hear all about it from your henchmen - lady dowager.”

The dowager takes her cold reply in stride, her smile widening. 

“I’d have expected no less than steel from you my girl,” she nods approvingly. “With your relatives well placed in our struggle, we shall do right by you of cause.”

Gyeonhwa snorts, none of her fire lost to the bettered state of her body. 

“Well for a start, why don’t you untie my hands?”

“Of cause my dear,” the old woman offers. “But first I must see if you have come bearing gifts.” 

“Lock him up!” Wook orders Chun away. He is not to be taken without a struggle and a last look shared between him and the princess. Gyeonhwa does look pained, but not enough to smooth his nerves. 

“Where is it?” His mother presses again. One of the men, the one that lingers behind offers up the scroll, tied and encased in faded silk. Eyes of the Dowager glitter. “Ah,” she clasps a hand over it like a greedy claw. “Here at last. The arrow to shoot down a star.”

“You can’t read it,” Gyeonhwa comments in detest. 

“Of cause, I do not read the traitor’s tongue. But Hyeon Jong will read it for us, wouldn’t she? We have wasted quite a lot of time to bring her here.”

“Not now,” Wook says quietly. “Not yet.” He faces his mother’s scowl. “We know what it says. It must be read before witnesses to justify the rebel.”

His mother takes a long while to consider, before conceding. 

“Very well,” she says in the end. “Tonight will be the last of Gwangjong’s reign.”

**

She thinks of a story from Ha Jin’s world, by the time she ends up reading her brother’s last words. It is of a city that fell because they decided to accept the leftovers of the enemy as a symbol of victory. While the said symbol breached their defenses within. She would never have reached Da Yeong, broken through her loyalty had Wook been a little less greedy of hoarding up his victories. Had he not wanted to capture her, she’d never know half the story. 

There is something amusing about men who remains who they are after many years. Wook she knew had not changed at all. Still he would not see through the trails she laid out for him and went dancing his merry way right up to the trap she keeps wide open. 

They would not read the penitent’s confession tonight. They would need witnesses. Wook never disappoints in over thinking his schemes. He would have taken the throne from Jeongjong all those years ago had he acted a little faster and planned his perfect coop a little less. But no, he would not change so easily. 

They throw Chun in a cell, as disgracefully as they could manage. He grunts and rolls on his back. The starlight is not sufficient for her to judge the extent of his injuries, but he seems to be fine enough to crawl his way to a corner of his cell and pull his knees up. 

“I must admit mama,” he says after a long while. “I am glad that you and I are on the same side.” 

He did not say it, but the prospect of finding himself on the opposite of this woman felt like a nightmare. Chun had never seen a woman more acute or more lethal. She takes his words nonchalantly, rubbing the back of the sleeping baby to keep her warm. 

“What of Song Dal?” She asks quite calmly after a long pause. Had he not been attuned to her tone he would not have caught the catch in it. 

“Lives - as you commanded mama.” He replies frowning. “Captured and retained. But why must he not be killed? We had no need of engaging with him at all - he would have returned empty handed never having seen us.”

“Wook cannot have the advantage of having someone who lived in the compound of Kang among his men.” She tells him. “He cannot be killed by your means - Lord Park - he is a creation of black sorcery.”

Chun takes a while to process her reasoning. He is not a man of many questions. He nods after a while, never asking her if she had completed the task that brought her into the thick of the enemy stronghold. If she had found what she was looking for. 

“How many men did you bring back?”

“All that returned are ours. It is a good thing that Chul Hyun got caught when he did and it opened up our way into their spy ranks.”

“And the scroll?” 

“Laced with enough venom to cause chaos.”

A bell goes of somewhere and feet thunder on the ground. 

“Ah,” they say in unison. 

“The queen dowager -!” Someone shouts. “The queen dowager collapsed!”

Notes:

It is a connecting chapter but it was so tiresome to write. Maybe it's my work weighing me down... I agree whole heartedly with captain Yoo SiJin that report writing is fatally dangerous work. 😂 (DOTS reference in case you are wondering.) Never had to write so many before!😔
Ah I've spend days on this beast and it turned out quite tiny. Anyway I hope it's enjoyable.
Thank you for reading!
PS: hwangbo queen dowager is not dead. :-P

Chapter 66: Penitent’s confession I

Summary:

Back to north where the end begun.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Pleasure it isn’t, to leave Hwangju burning in her trail, nevertheless the fallen city of foe gives rise to a deep seated sense of satisfaction that Jang Mi cannot deny. She urges her mount with a command from back of her throat, Seol tucked securely against her, and can’t help but think, they are off to a good start.

The dominos fall rapidly, once the forged penitent’s confession reaches the hands of the dowager. Laced with poison enough to rattle her retainers, the piece of paper that had no real value ends up creating enough chaos to focus their attention elsewhere. The shadows need but a moment to act, to cause enough damage on their wake that it will take at least a week for the Hwangbo forces to think of following after them.

Nestled between two steep hills, the estate of third dowager queen is lit in flames of war. Jang Mi pulls at her reins and halts far above them, watching Hwangju go up in flames. She could picture Wook, trying to work out how it came about, trying desperately to call his men to order. Try as he might, the game was out of his hands. That indeed gives her pleasure, the thought that she had managed to snatch a victory even before their confrontation begun. That man who thought he could play with her heart and leave her a casualty to his greed, she shall teach him the art of war – a gift to carry with him to the netherworld.

“Mama,” Chun calls after her, little urgently, little curiously. She had rightfully earned the begrudging admiration in his eyes. “We should not stop.”

The night air is crisp when she inhales. Jang Mi nods briskly.

“We must catch up to grandrpince Anjong’s party.”

Shadows gather up around her, quiet and menacing, men and women of unwavering loyalties and lifelong commitment. Their dark grabs swallow any trace of her and the child tucked against her from peering eyes. Off they go, riding into the anonymity of night and woods, back to North where decades back foundation of a war yet to come had been laid out.

**

Third day of the New Year, 929 AD

Lady Min tried to scrub the unhappiness that she felt, packed away from the eyes of her mistress at the rear end of their party. But the dissatisfaction remained, just as the frost on the tip of her nose, biting and perpetual in the cursed hills of Shinju. During these long months of winter, with no excitement or reprieve to  look forward to and days filled with the concubine’s incessant nagging, it was hard to keep hold of her act. At times she wondered if there was ever a maid more loyal to her queen or more devoted to their cause as she was. By this spring, it would be four years without a command from her true mistress, since she parted from the capital as a part of the new born prince’s retinue and left for Shinju following the concubine.

There was nothing pleasing to the eye there. And doubting her real intentions, perhaps the only wise thing the witch ever did, the concubine would not have a former maid of the queen anywhere near her son. It did not make her long days in the freezing wastelands any more bearable, instead of chores she was trained and experienced as the witch filled her schedule with laundry and cleaning, hard labour that did not fit a lady of her station. Three years had changed a little, if only her resentment had grown.

Lady Min examines her hands, cracked and calloused, ruined in wait. Cold air stings against her palms, causing her to shudder and tuck them against the folds of her robes. There is little warmth inside the carriage, bouncing its way back to hell. She shudders at the thought. Only memories of the past week kept her blood from freezing. There were orders to be followed before they reached the liar of the witch once more.

The concubine is returning from her visit to the capital, after attending the exorcism and cleansing rituals held at the palace. Min Bo Ah, accompanies her, much to the concubine’s chagrin, unknown to others after receiving latest orders from her mistress.

The carriages rattle on, wheels protesting under their weight. Lady Min leans her head back and closes her eyes, picturing with a sense of pride, how trusting the eyes of her mistress had been. She is the most devoted to the queen, she will someday be the most rewarded as well, when the queen’s son sits on the dragon throne.

Stars had little to do about that, witches even less. Lady Min echoes her mistress’s thought, darkly reflecting back to what her mistress had learned from the palace shaman – their eyes and ears near the royal astronomer. They had long since known that the king’s hand was forced in raising the station of a witch. Lady Min is still quite displeased that a highborn noble such as her had to bow and wait hand and feet of a barbarian witch woman. But then, the monarch had his reasons. There is no arguing against the obvious bias he has for his firstborn. Her mistress had confessed this with a heavy heart, Min Bo Ah did not know how to console her. Ambitious though she was, the queen loved her husband and it hurts her not to have her feelings reciprocated. It was unlikely that the king loved the crown prince’s dead mother, Bo Ah had told her, but the queen had only laughed ruefully.

“Isn’t that obvious,” she shakes her head. “He loves the throne and any son who would sit upon it.”

And now, her mistress had arranged her own heart to mirror his, wanting the throne for her own children. The shaman had not eased her heart, soon after her youngest son was born. They had planned it so meticulously, so that the child would be born under the star of a king, made such effort so the king would learn of his glorious fate. But the word had been brought back to them on the day itself, the concubine’s child lives too, born earlier than they had anticipated, thanks to their own scheme of pushing her down the temple stairs during her stay at the capital. And now the two boys shared the glorious star, son of a queen and a barbarian witch. One child lady Min had helped to bring to this world had held in her hand before any of his parents, and the other – she had tried to thwart from being born.

Now they are to learn that the king had promised a throne to the witch’s son. Lady Min yet shivers in fury the idea causes; even a monarch could not be so tactless. Who among his retainers would bow to a concubine’s son when there were princes of much higher, much purer status to be chosen from?

They will not have it, her mistress vows to herself. Lady Min would do anything it takes to make sure she keeps the vow. Her mistress need not suffer such slights. The witch would not steal her right as the dowager. And now, the task of ceasing her mistress’ worry lay solely in the hands of lady Min. She would do it tonight, before they reaches the liar of the witch, she would end the shared fate.

**

Jang Mi had never seen Nakrang’s eyes burn with such fury. There were unmistakable traces of her mother in her, she sees now, in those sharp narrowed eyes and the twitching mouth. She stares Baek Ah down with venom.

“That wretched woman cannot accompany us,” she doesn’t even raise her pitch, as she dictates. “I will not allow the house of Kim to be so polluted.”

They are in the outskirts of Shinju, a half day’s journey remained to the compound of Kangs and the matter had been unforeseen. Jang Mi chooses to watch, taking neither side. She could only offer her gratitude to the gods that they were enclosed within their camp, away from the soldier’s ears. She would not have domestic disputes of the Kim household turn the battle against their favor.  She wanted Baek Ah, but Nakrang’s husband commanded the army of Silla Kims, a battalion that she needed yet.

Baek Ah clenches his jaw. His silence seems to aggravate Nakrang. There is no love lost between her and Seo Nui, there was no reason she would find any fond feelings after everything.

“She had been a traitor to our cause from the beginning.” Nakrang reminds them, her eyes shifting meaningfully away from Baek Ah and towards the other stakeholders, Jang Mi, Chun and General Park. Her eyes linger on the fading bruises on Chun’s face. “She helped that cursed devil spawn – Song Dal escape! She spied – she –“

“ – is my wife,” Baek Ah interjects softly. Nakrang’s eyes soften a little.

“Not your choice,” she says. “Circumstances had forced imperial brother’s hand. I know you had made clear of your position.”

“It changes nothing.”

“Brother,” Nakrang sighs. “You have always been tender hearted. Your duty binds you. But this cannot be!” She rounds upon Jang Mi. “Surely, you will not want such threat to your own child’s claim on the throne. That woman had been lying to us from the beginning! That woman has kept her pregnancy a secret. That woman bears the traitor’s son!”

“It changes nothing!” Baek Ah repeats. “Your son would push him down the line of succession anyway.” He looks at Jang Mi pleadingly. “Mama, I have given her my word. Please…!”

“Humph!” Nakrang snorts in a positively frightening imitation of her mother. “Very well then,” she concedes. “You outrank us both and this matters more to you than it does to the Kims. That child would be the enemy’s hope, the antithesis of your child. Tell us, Hyeon Jong Mama, what will you have us do?”

Jang Mi shifts, looking from Baek Ah to Nakrang and then to general Park. It seemed a test of sort. To be lenient would be to have them judge her to be mellow hearted, too weak to wage a war. To follow the majority would break her friend’s heart.

“How many knows of this?” She asks them instead.

“Just us.”

They drown in silence once more, each pair of eyes looking at her expectantly. There was war, Nakrang would not let her forget and this was a child of the man she hated with a passion, whose schemes had cost So a son, had almost cost them Seol. If he had been in her shoes, the choice would not be so difficult. Baek Ah would not intend to press but his face would remind her of everything he had done for her, everything he had been through before, because of them and then at the hand of fate. He had lost as much as they had, first her cousin, then Woo Hee, he might not survive another heart break.

But then, there was the ambitious dowager Jeongdeok, ready to scheme her way to the top. Greedy and resentful and hunting after the lost glory of her clan, a child would be just another valuable pawn in her hands. Seo Nui is yet to find her voice against her mother. If she is not to be defended by the Kims she would surely be a puppet at her mother’s hands and the child – the child could pose a threat.

But it may not be a son.

Jang Mi takes a moment to realize she had spoken the words out loud. Nakrang narrows her eyes.

“It changes nothing,” she echoes her brother’s words.

“Wook cannot claim the child he denies all connections with Ryus.”

“You don’t understand –“

“I’m withholding this.”

“What?” They all turn to her with varying expressions of disbelief.

“I will not make a decision now. There is no need to, for the threat you all foresee is yet to occur. As long as this discussion doesn’t leave this party,” she looks around at every one of them meaningfully. “It will not occur at all.”

“But a traitor’s child –“

“I swear to you Mama,” Baek Ah cuts Nakrang off. “The child will never pause a threat to you or yours.”

“I will be the judge of that,” she tells him and she hopes he will realize that it is the most she could allow, given the circumstance. “I will be the sole judge of that.” She inhales and draws herself to her full height. “Seo Nui can stay and so can her child as long as their fate remains in my hand.”

 

Notes:

Happy new year!
will be back with the part II of this chapter soon.
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 67: Penitent’s confession II

Summary:

Never bargain with Gods.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It felt as if she had not slept in an age. How untrue was the belief that death brought you peace - it did not, not to lady Shinjuwon, the revered concubine Kang. Nothing had ever brought her peace, life, love or children. Each instead had left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. 

Now that she possessed the body of her most despised foe, her own power waning with each day she battled over his conscious for control - there was little peace to be found in death. She could not kill him, for his battle prowess was needed, but keeping him alive cost her own strength. The Hwangbos did not help. Still reeling from everything they lost in Hwangju, that fool of a prince was always on the edge. He did not understand, Hwangju did not matter. That loss did not matter. What they needed laid ahead. Shinjuwon was having second thoughts on trusting him, on handling him the most delicate of tasks. 

“We lost the girl,” he had said, still frothing at the mouth from the damage her niece had dealt him. “She took princess Seol.”

Shinjuwon dismissed that with a wave of a hand. If Jangmi thought she could keep Seol, keep her when the real hunter comes hunting - Shinjuwon had really taught her nothing. 

“And the boy?” she asked. “What of the boy?”

“Boy?” Wook sounded furious, a little bewildered. He was a man who took pride in his intelligence, therefore realizing that she knew something she did not, frustrated him. Shinjuwon couldn’t help a disdainful smile.

 “Yes the boy.”

“You think a measly lord’s illegitimate son could turn the tide? You think Jang Mi would look twice at her father’s -”

“Bring me the boy.”

“They were right!” He fumed, disbelievingly. “You are mad!”

“I was never mad,” she told him but that look, the condemnation irked her. Wook looked at her as if he was her better, as if he could look down on her. The worm! She allowed her hand to choke him, taking pleasure on the strength she had after possessing the king’s body - she waited until he was gasping, to release him. 

“Never presume you know me -” she said slowly, enjoying how menacing the king’s voice sounded. Oh, the things she could do when she had such a vessel at her disposal! “Never presume you understand. That boy, is worth ten of your army. That boy could burn Shinju single handedly. Why do you think the Rose guarded him so? Now answer, do you have the boy?”

“The Ims have him,” Wook splattered, massaging his throat. 

She inhaled and nodded. 

“Bring him to me.”

She dismissed Wook and turned away from him. His woes of lost estates and injured mothers and dead sisters did not concern her. She had promised him his end of bargain, that was all she would allow him to take. And now, now the time has finally come to summon the full extent of her power. 

With a brush wet with sparrow’s blood, Shinjuwon wrote on a white cloth. A single character that represented a name she had not been called since the death of her mentor, her aunt. 

Ayng

Her aunt was a woman who had the entire Kang household in her palm - yet she was a docile woman, her charm the most lethal weapon in her arsenal. Even her father that battle hardened warrior who cut men as if they were over ripened harvest had been submissive to her charms. That was the position Shinjuwon inspired to obtain, but perhaps as her aunt had warned with her dying breath, she had staked everything on the wrong man. Love, said her aunt, was a poison when you love the wrong man; and the emperor of their new born nation was the wrong man.  

“Ayng,” her aunt had said, her words still bleeding on Shinjuwon’s memory. It was a name nobody had called her since, the name her aunt had given her. The emperor had given her a new name, a new identity - Shinjuwon, the mad concubine. The witch concubine. The barbarian who seduced the king but could not match up to the docile ladies of the capital. The woman who went mad after she lost her child. But before that cursed existence she was Ayng - named after a flower following the tradition of Kang household, named after the blossom that signified spring and love and the power of women. But when her aunt took that name with her dying breath, with trembling lips, there was no taste of love in her voice. “I’ve forgotten,” she said through splattering blood. Failure coloring her tone, knowing as she did that no amount of blood could mend the broken seal, recall that escaped god. “Name is a vessel that contains the soul - and I called you cherry blossom, ” she gasped, rubbing fingers stained with blood on the cracked stone. It was not spring or love that she brought them, but the last that the flower signified - death.

Her aunt did not have to die. Ayng had made certain of that - the deal she made with the dark god that they worshiped, the silver eyed dragon had not involved her death. Or perhaps she had not realized the magnitude of what she had done just then - just as she had not realized the magnitude of what she was doing until her Heo was lost. Her heart had then been too full of the king to care. All she had wanted was to lift the curse on his precious son, to win his heart in return. The god that came to her in visions had promised her such power that she had been drunk on that dream - yearning to feel the power as it danced on her fingertips. There was only so much spirits could do - it was the full extent of her aunt’s power. But he whispered in her dreams - if she was to release him, bind him by that invaluable favor - she would have the silver eyed dragon at her command. 

In exchange of lifting the curse on the crowned prince all her god had wanted was a vessel, a body to carry his soul - the silver eyed dragon wished to be born in human form again. Ayng could think of no bigger honor. But her aunt had not agreed. 

“How long?” She had asked in her shrill voice, shaking Ayng until her teeth cluttered. “How long have you been talking to him? You fool - you fool - have I taught you nothing?” 

Of cause she had taught much. Ayng had learned the art of seeing from her - the art of calling spirits to do their bidding; fair winds, timely rains, victory on the field of Kangs - but perhaps her aunt was right in assuming that she did not always abide by the rules. 

See, do not hear. 

Ask, do not answer. 

Take, do not give.

Never bargain with gods. 

Old gods were unpredictable, bustling with ancient power, knowledge beyond their wildest imaginations. Spirits were more biddable, still bound by their human desires, weak but persistent and vindictive enough to succeed. Gods, were dangerous. That is why her mother never used the power lying at her fingertips. For generations priestesses of Kang had guarded the prison of a god, un-tempted by his all consuming power - until Ayng succumbed to his voice. 

“You are foolish,” she replied, furious that her aunt did not see the future prospects an alliance with the king brought. “I have done what you couldn’t - what your spirits couldn’t -”

“You have done what he waited thousand years for,” her aunt had said cynically, “oh my flower of death, you brought doom upon us all. You bring the silver eyed dragon and she will follow. In her wake follows war - death - ruin. They will meet and the vicious cycle will repeat. Everything will be lost.”

My flower of death, the address gave her pause. It was what the silver eyed dragon called her in her dreams. But her aunt was no longer listening, instead she called for spirits and tried to mend the broken seal - tried to imprison their god once more in his ancient prison. And she died trying. 

With her dying breath, she called Ayng - the flower of death. 

Nothing had gone the way she hoped since then. Ayng had become Shinjuwon, a wife and then a mother. The king had promised her son a throne. And she had promised her son to a god. The silver eyed dragon never allowed her to forget. He could not be born, as Heo was born early - too early that Ayng failed to do a summoning. It had been a conspiracy, a sequence of events triggered by a jealous queen - but nevertheless she had failed then. 

Since then, the silver eyed dragon was impatient. She had managed to hold him for four years - but even her power, as powerful as she was, could not hold him any longer. He was a wild god. Too powerful, too adamant - beyond anything she had ever controlled. Heo was four when she did the summoning. 

She did it on the ninth day of the new year, in the field of Kangs - where the earth hummed with power held by generations of priestesses, where lay the epicenter of power of the silver eyed dragon. 

The queen had triggered it. Of cause, the silver eyed dragon had warned her beforehand, told her that the Yoo queen would harm her boy. He had said it with a wicked pleasure, watching her with amused, merciless silver eyes. She would harm her son - damage him - ruin his supreme fate - and he, her god, granter of all her power - would do nothing. Because Shinjuwon, his flower of death did not keep her promises. 

As he said, Heo had fallen ill after their return from the capital. There was nothing the physician’s could do for him. He drew paler, weaker and as she watched the life fainted away. 

You could save him , the silver eyed dragon suggested in her head. You know what to do. Of cause she did, and there was no more a reason not to. She could not let Heo die. Heo, was her hope - centre of her universe. Her reason of existence. She would make him a legend. So Shinjuwon did the summoning. 

Heo should have possessed the power of an old god, instead of the sickly boy that he was - succumbing to a fever that had no rhyme no reason - he should have become the most powerful among his brothers. Most of all, Heo should have woken up, with his star like eyes - so dark and beautiful taking the silvery hue that set the Kangs apart. 

He did. For a fleeting second. For a fleeting second the summoning was successful and Shinjuwon was the most powerful witch in Goryeo, one that had an old god to do her bidding. For a fleeting second Heo glowed, soft silver like the starlight, his eyes the most brilliant hue of molten silver - he was the most beautiful child she had ever seen. And the power she so dreamed of danced at her finger tips - sparkles of static that made her skin tingle. 

But then, as she watched the glow dimmed. The silver replaced by dull gray, the glow by seeping blood. Her cry, wretched from her throat was all that vibrated along her skin. Heo was burning, angry red scalding his unblemished skin - his tiny body curling and convulsing in pain. He screamed - screamed and screamed and nothing under her power, nothing she did - could stop it. 

That beautiful boy, that precious boy - her son, her darling - went limp in her arms. Nothing she did, no matter how loud she called, how hard she shook, how desperately she begged - nothing could rouse him from his sleep. 

**

Lady Min had watched with shaking hands clasped together. Watched from the edge of the field of Kangs where she was not allowed to enter. She watched as the concubine screamed herself hoarse, clawing at dirt, clinging at the now life - less child. Her own legs then gave away and she collapsed on the freezing ground. 

She could easily have called it the witch’s mistake. But she knew, she knew that the poison in the child’s veins - the poison she had fed him - it was the poison that caused his death. The concubine had simply failed to save him from a certain death. 

Lady Min had done what her mistress the queen had ordered her to do. But - but - 

She clutched her eyes close, uncaring of the animalistic wail that escaped her mouth.

Right then, lady Min was the only person who knew what a blunder her mistress the queen had made. What a sin she, lady Min had committed against her queen. Right then, she was the only woman who could have made a very educated guess on why the enchantment - whatever that it was - failed; even though she knew next to nothing about dark magic. 

Sobbing in despair that nobody else would understand, lady Min wondered why she had not thought to check before she poisoned the child. Had she taken a moment to pause, to check the child, she would have found the birthmark on his foot. She would have recognized him for the boy she had helped to bring into this world - the boy she held before either of his parents. The boy, who was the third son of her queen. 

In the aftershock of her revelation lady Min had believed it to be the witch’s doing. Surely, the witch had switched the babies. Replaced the queen’s precious son with her spawn. But now, watching as the woman mourned the dead child in her arms she was forced to believe that even the witch did not know. 

This dead Heo was the queen’s son. In ignorance and haste her mistress had ordered the death of her own child. While the witch’s spawn remained cuddled and cherished and protected under the queen’s name. It was no wonder that he had the star of a king. Now the nemesis of his mother was raising him, with all love that he did not deserve. 

Someone had played a bloody smart hand on them all. 

Slowly, lady Min rose to her feet and still sobbing she went into the field of Kangs. There was nothing she dared anymore. She had done the worst of all. Now, if she was allowed to live, she would deal as much of it back as possible. So, she went and slowly, gently, hugged the concubine - the woman she was forced to serve. Shinjuwon stiffened beneath her arms, but then the tears pouring down lady Min’s face seemed to break her resolve. She leaned into the embrace of the court lady that she despised until that moment and both women sobbed until the day broke over their heads. 

From that moment Min Bo Ah become the right hand woman of the mad concubine she would later go to become the woman that the adopted son of concubine Kang feared and hated with equal measures. But Wang So never learned the depth of the woman’s venom - for he had never known it was a letter penned under this woman’s hand - a secret letter that had sown the seed of hatred in the heart of the mother whose love he sought for so long. Nor did he know how much pleasure that woman drove from making an unaware mother torture the son she bore. 

Even concubine Kang never learned the depth of her cruelty. And Min Bo ah, seeing how the wheel of fortune was turning again, had made one last ditch attempt in the name of her true mistress. For the queen was suppressed by the king, she had to make sure the secret reached others who could still use it. By then lady Min, well versed in her mistress’s tainted arts had learned the language of Ryu spies - the language that none that served the king could read. And so she wrote her secret in those uncomprehending letters. 

One last weapon. 

An arrow to shoot down a star. 

The penitent’s confession. 

Notes:

There's an interesting side story to the silver eyed dragon and the woman that follows him, you can find it on my tumblr @elvenladysakura if you are interested. It's not absolutely necessary as I've laid out all the necessary information here. But if you are in mood for a little wolf and I spin off (Seol's story) do check out *Snow and Starlight* mini fic series in my tumblr.
Thank you for reading!

Chapter 68: Winter Fire

Summary:

He is coming.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

From the times when his father sat on the dragon throne, Jung finds the imperial court stifling. He is rather at ease on the frontlines, than in his courtier robes.

But in this particular court Jung is the not the only one uncomfortable. The courtiers shift under their prestigious court robes as if wearing ill-fitting skin.

Their eyes are trained ahead, kept on an unrelenting pursuit of the predator. Jung shifts along with them. There is fear in the air, a pricking sense of uneasy anticipation. He has lived through enough battles to scent out death in the air. Most of them will not walk out unscathed.

The emperor watches over them with gray eyes sunken in a gaunt face. To an outsider he looks sickly, in the casp of death, to Jung he looks like a monster from his mother's tales - a creature of her nightmares.

He knows what the grapevine fails to deliver - this is something demonic wearing the guise of his brother.

That alone has decided which side of the war Jung would find himself on, despite his projections to the contrary - and the queen, it eases him to think of her in that term - Hyeon Jong, is the only thing standing between this demon and Seol. She had paid the cost of her perilous position with blood of her kin, many times over.

Jung shakes himself out of the dark thought, hardening his resolve so as not to give away his position as an enemy agent as he settles to witness the public execution of the queen's brother.

It is an atrocity in itself - for the last of Kang, is but a mere child - a sickly, weak boy - son of a concubine. Jung could barely look at the boy, led in chains. It is war, he reminds himself, ballads of war are always inked in innocent blood.

Cold lingers in the makeshift court. They have come a long way from the illustrious capital with war on their wake.

The winter is waning, but a storm howls outside. It has no rhyme or reason. With each step they take towards Shinju, where Hyeon Jong defends the city behind invincible wall of Kangs - war stalks them with the gait of a beast, leaving scent of fire and blood - imprints of destruction on the untimely snow. It would overtake them with this final fall of axe - take them and swallow them whole.

There is nothing holding back Hyeon Jong from avenging her brother - her last living brother.

The emperor rises. Behind him, in the shadows Jung notices Wook shifting. His eighth brother tries to mask it - but Jung reads the frustration in his eyes. This is a war Wook had dreamed up - this is an army he had raised - yet the glory, the command - the throne does not belong to him. Jung knows enough of Wook to imagine how it frustrates him to know that the world will remember this as a war between an emperor and an empress - the wolf and the rose, with nothing to do with him.

The courtiers who hailed Wook in the shadows are now trying to curry favour with the emperor, changing with the tide of power. Jung feels their eagerness as the emperor's silver - gray eyes (the witch's eyes) shift over them, finally coming to rest upon the boy in chains.

"You have done well," he says slowly. Tilting the words in a way he had never done before. The hand he reaches out for the boy is blanched white. There is a flash of victory in his gray eyes - a thirst quenched. The emperor drags a finger along the blood trickling down the boy's temple, gathering it at his finger tip.

He is looking down at the boy - shadows masking his expression - when he speaks, it is a murmur Jung is not meant to catch.

"You have denied my summons - silver eyed dragon. Heed me now - or I shall ruin your vessel forever."

Jung does not mean to, but he shifts ever so slightly. The look Kang Seo gives the possessed emperor makes a chill of dread pass down his spine.

The boy has silver eyes, but unlike the witch, they burn - there is such heat in his gaze that no child could ever master such look. His silver orbs simmer as if they are sitting on a Smith's forge - as if the look along could scald. The blood and bruises he wear only add to his horror. That is no child, there is something inhumane about him - something timeless and overwhelming.

"If you dare to," Jung thinks he heard that voice. All he sees is the slow, terrifying curl of the boy's bloodied lip. The predatory gleam in his ghostly eyes.

"You act well, my flower of death. It may please measly spirits - we do not need such games between us. Summon me properly if you must. Summon me now. And I shall remind you of our pending promises."

"It was the Rose who made promises. It is from her you must collect. It is she who holds your star. I am that one lone bridge to reach her. Heed me now - or lose your star forever."

Their exchange lasts only a moment, the emperor's eyes return to his court, to the eager courtiers Wook had collected over the time - there is a hunger in those eyes that makes Jung shift again.

"It is time to send the witch a message your imperial majesty," the bravest and closest courtier claims.

They are words burrowed from Wook, but the man speaks with confidence. In his haste to approach his king he steps on the boy's chains, prompting him to fall on his knees. The emperor's eyes flickers to the child and back up to the courtier.

"Only to blood would she respond." "Indeed," he responds in that tilted voice, curiously tinted with mockery.

"A clan that dared to rise against the heavens' will should not be allowed to taint the earth," another puts more eloquently.

"Death to Kangs!" Echos the followers, dutiful in carrying out wishes of Hwangbos.

The slogan seems to move them, rising ill will in ripples. At least it will not be the emperor's own sword that takes the life of this Kang, as it had been with the one before. Jung cannot see Wook taking such a chance. There is an executioner called to the task, who approaches now, egged on by the voices humming with approval.

Involuntarily Jung reaches for his concealed weapon, eyes trained on the child - damn his part as a spy - he would not watch a child being butchered.

Jung stops simultaneously with the executioner, when the boy turns to look at them - those silver eyes flashing. The air - the wind outside - stills, thickens and swirls.

Jung feels it from his very skin that a storm is forming around them, with the boy at its eye. The silver light comes without a warning - sharp as a blade's edge, blinding as a stroke of lightening - springing from the earth itself. Kang Seo sinks his hands into the ground, dirt caked fingers clawing, his head bowed, shoulders hunched.

For one deceptive moment Jung thinks he is about to cry, but then his lips pull back in a snarl, bloodied teeth bared in a growl and the air begins to hum. Above him the emperor - no, the witch - opens his arms and begins a chant. Unearthly sort of words spill from his lips - somewhere outside a woman screams.

The sound makes Jung's brain curl and the silver light burns in his eyes. He shields his gaze with a hand and stumbles backwards. Ripple after ripple the light spills forth, he could no longer see the boy. Each ripple feels like a heat wave stinging against his skin.

Jung cannot help the scream that is torn from his throat as he feels the blistering heat brushing against him. Involuntarily he collapses on his knees.

The air is no longer full of anticipation, but screams - prayers - pleadings - and the unmistakable stench of burning flesh.

"You have done well," the emperor's tilted voice washes over them. "For you have brought forth the wrath of the silver eyed dragon - you have evoked the winter fire! Nothing - not even the wall of Kangs would stand before us now. The victory is ours! And you shall be the first contributors to that victory!"

**

Miles and clusters of villages separate them. There is no stench of burning flesh in the air. No storm in the skies. War still stalks the fortress of Kangs.

In the distance one could hear the rhythmic scraping of a blade on a whetstone, timed with pounding of iron - the buzz of practice arrows or hum of patrolling feet. Fires in the watchtowers struggling against the unusually long winter.

In the wake of a seven day storm the fortress is drowning in a deadly silence.The night was holding its breath waiting until -

The toddler princess sits up with a sharp scream, awaken by the lack of howling winds that had lulled her to an uneasy sleep. Her eyes are rounded in the light of dyning candles, her mouth still half parted.

There is an expression etched on her face that is unfitting - it is what stops Jang Mi from approaching her. Across the war table groaning under the weight of maps laid out upon it she watches as her daughter slowly looks around - taking in her chambers as if for the first time.

It is not the first time Seol had slept on the spare bed in her study, Jang Mi liked to keep her close even when the war meetings kept her busy well into the night. It was only a couple of minutes ago that lady Noh had vacated the room leaving only the queen and the princess to stare at each other across the shadows dancing between them.

Jang Mi feels a chill of knowing settle in her bones as she meet Seol's eye. For one wretched moment it seems as if someone else is staring at her out of those Oh so familiar eyes. It hurts, somewhere deep in her soul, just like it did when the emperor had looked at her with those possessed gray eyes. But the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach only grows.

Seol watches her solemnly, round eyes unblinking. The pause grows, claws at Jang Mi's throat and then the toddler claps her hands together, lips curling back in a smile much similar to her father's.

"He is coming." She says.

Very clearly, very confidently, unlike her normal blabbering speech. The truth of her words Jang Mi feels in her bones.

He is coming.

Notes:

Again, if you are interested in reading a Seol centred sequel to this story kindly check out my tumblr @elvenladysakura. There is an entire lore of silver eyed dragon there for your reference. Look for posts tagged #SnowAndStarlight #story written in fallen stars
Thank you for reading!

Chapter 69: Heart of stone

Summary:

It is one thing to mourn a God that cannot die, but even when you learn his true nature, it would be a terrible mistake to go back on a promise made. Or in which the silver eyed dragon comes to collect his due from Jang Mi, queen Hyeon Jeong.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He calls to her.

It begins in the pause Seol's laughter leaves out. Where she could hear the pounding of a heart. While Jang Mi is certain that she too feels the quickening of her own heartbeat, it is not her heart that she hears.

There is something inhumane to that beat, a slow, endless rhythm of eternity that beckons with its sedative call. It is the sound she had been warned a lifetime not to heed - the sound of a God's heart.


Kang women liked to remind their young that they had blood of ancient gods running in their veins. They had those ancient beings trapped not only in their veins but beneath their ground - inside their stone carved temples, they had reins of Gods in their hands.

They were good stories  - where old mothers cuddled their children and sang half lost words that lulled old Gods to sleep. Telling otherwise the God trapped in stone would steal the child at night.

They were not stories from Jang Mi's childhood. For by the time she was a child, the stone had cracked - the God had escaped - and the woman who liked to call herself the most powerful priestess of Kang clan - had lost her mind.


Or so everyone thought. So everyone liked to believe. Her grief had driven her mad, they said. Jang Mi knows better. It wasn't grief - it was power that drove her mad; power of the creature that had taken up residence in her shell of a body. The creature that cringed at the cruelty she displayed, the creature whose words were lost to her - whose voice she no longer heard.


The snap of connection with her God was what had driven Shinjuwon mad. She had spent the rest of her life trying to mend it, or end it. She desired the power, she hated it - it had killed her son, she believed it could bring him back, she was angry it refused. The conflict had driven her mad. Jang Mi knew, for she had seen how her lunatic aunt had tried to torture a God by trapping him inside her own body.


It might have been stupid of her, to have been fonder of the intruding ancient spirit than she had been of her aunt. She could hear him since she had learned to hear and understand.

Sometimes he called and she answered. Sometimes she sang those old songs that most of her people thought were prayers but were in fact lullabies from a lost nation. They calmed her aunt in her violent spells, they calmed the God within her.


Lyla he called her sometimes.

There had never been a voice. But a conjuring of a thought, she could imagine the exact weight and tenor of a word, that has never been. A name that was never hers, yet hers alone; Lyla.


Her aunt grew into envy, for Jang Mi had somehow found what she had lost. In her maddening rage her God was the only thing that was still hers and still left, Shinjuwon wasn't ready to compromise with the hold she had over him - over the God that she released from his stone prison. And so she wrenched him out of her - offered him a different vessel, offered him yet another child.


Shinjuwon had not expected Seo to live. Ah Ri was too old to bear a healthy child anyway, and the babe was such a sickly, pale thing - not to pass the night, midwives had remarked - it was supposed to be a lesson.
Yet the child with such beautiful silver eyes had stared at her, not crying, not strong enough to, and she heard the word as clear as it was spoken against her ear.


Lyla


He called.


Jang Mi was fourteen then. Not old enough to raise a child, barely learning how to hold one properly. But she was the one to hold her cast away illegitimate brother - tuck him warmly against her for that first night of his life; and he had lived.

She had never forgotten that night when she had had a newborn's heart pressed against hers and yet it felt as if the pounding was a toll of an ancient bell. Jang Mi would never forget that rhythm.


Over the years it had never changed. That slow, inhumane beat of Seo's heart. And now she heard it in the stillness of the night. She heard it in the pounding of her own heart.


Ly- luh


Ly - luh


Ly - luh


It went.


Run away Lyla, he was saying. I cannot stop it. I cannot save you. Run. Run. Run.


There was nowhere left to run. She thinks to herself. She was at the edge of the kingdom with enemies both before and after. There was nowhere to run.


Jang Mi knows the old ones meant well when they formulated those rules; she ends up breaking them anyway.


I cannot run. She tells him instead. I will stand and fight.


The cracked stones reply comes in a whisper. Come to the beginning of the end, I shall return to you what was stolen.


*


The stones hiss with memory of power.

Jang Mi lowers the torch that she carried and dips it in the puddle at the entrance. The flames hiss in reply before they are swallowed by the encroaching night.

She doesn't need to see to find her way, the power humming at the centre of the abandoned mountain temple beckons her. Even decades after the crack was made, the air around it is still alive with sparks.

Eyes serve no purpose here. Jang Mi closes them and instead allows the tips of her fingers to see. They tingled at barest touch on sacred stone. She almost holds her breath before remembering her aunt was no longer there to admonish her daring.


There are voices, or the barest hint of them in the air that she breathes. Stone beneath her finger tips draws warmer, sparks of power dance on her skin. A sizzling promise of power - a siren's call.


The moment she touches the crack, where the heart of the stone pulses - Jang Mi feels as if she had plunged her head into ice water.

The sensation of drowning is so acute that she claws at her throat with her free hand. Her feet are heavy and with her eyes closed she could convince herself that ground beneath them was slipping.

Her hand remains on the crack, held there by an invisible binding of curiosity and greed - a tainted anchor against the worst of her fears.


As she drowns in her own mind, her vision behind her closed eyes begins to fill with light, then dim into shadows, to shapes and colours.

When her feet finds solid ground in a jerking movement, Jang Mi finds herself staring at a bloody court. For all the blood and battle she had lived through, the sight makes her flinch. Rivulets of blood run beneath her feet, seeping into and soaking the seam of her skirts. Empty eyes of cut down men stare unseeing at the grandeur washed of their blood. Candles are extinguished, pools of their hot wax had run a deep, tainted red. The air pungent with scent of blood and burning flesh makes it hard to breathe.


Amidst it all, she finds So.


Apart from shadows, there is nothing hiding his scarred face, splattered with blood. He doesn't approach her, doesn't reach out. Instead he brings forth his own hands, examining his blood stained palms.


"I did it," he says. "What you feared..." he says then, looking up at her. "What you always have been against."


She doesn't care. Jang Mi wonders if it makes a monster of her too, for she thinks, honestly to herself, that if it is what it takes to restore So back to himself lives of all those traitors had been worth it.

But she says none of that. There is such raw anguish in So's face, a look of deepest self loathing.


"They wanted you dead," he says slowly. His tone is of a man possessed by ghosts of his own sins. "I could hear their thoughts."

Absentmindedly his blood drenched fingers crawl across his already stained face to clap over his ears.

"You - Seol - our baby -"


Jang Mi moves as it were a dream, intent on gathering him in her arms before the enormity of his action shutters him.

So shudders when her arms circle him.
"What is happening to me?" His voice is a whispered breath against her throat.

"I could hear them - I could see you-" his blood shot eyes search her face. "How? How are you here now?"


"I have no answers myself," she says slowly. "Forgive me for leaving you the way I did," her hands shake. "I had to do it. I couldn't help you by allowing them to capture me. These aren't your sins - lord husband, if they are anyone's- they are mine." Her fingers thread through his hair and her tears seep into his skin.

Then he speaks.


"So you regret it now?"


Jang Mi stills, still clutching him but numb with recognition. The voice that speaks is the one that calls her in thoughts. She recognizes it instantly, though she had never heard it before. The air she had inhales becomes ice in her windpipe.


When she pulls back, he stares at her with ancient silver eyes.


"No." The word slips from her mouth. "Not So. Not him."


"Your promises are fickle Hyeon Jeong," says the ancient being. "It must be a trait in Kang blood. However when you live for thousands of years, you don't forget to collect your debts."


She breathes through her gritted teeth, praying that the pounding of her heart isn't as loud as she hears it.

Promise.

Bargain.

Debt.

Those words hang heavy on her conscious.

She knows what the ancient being speaks of.


"The scent of blood has awoken me," he continues. "What you see around you is real - Hyeon Jong, your aunt has evoked me."


"Where is Seo?" Jang Mi's voice shakes.


"She promises the body of a king as a vessel - in exchange of repentance and victory in this pointless war of yours. And you - Hyeon Jong, you too promised me something did you not?"


Jang Mi clenches her fist. Now that she sees this manifestation for the trick that it is, she has no qualms with turning away from So. It is not him. It is merely an illusion conjured by an old, forgotten God.


"Do not walk away!" His words burn with anger. "I don't wish to do this. But if you leave me no choice Hyeon Jong, know that I will come hunting."


"I will not sacrifice my child," she chooses her words carefully. "We may share the same blood, but I am not Shinjuwon. I will not give you Seol."


He growls low in his throat.


"She is not yours to give or deny. She is mine - my star!" He says. When she turns around, he is no longer So, but a very crooked version of her little brother. There's nothing of Seo's endearing mischief to him, instead his eyes glow in silvery fire, his undone hair and his pale face are caked with blood.


"I gave you that face in exchange of your promise - Hyeon Jong! I have you a throne, a crown - the emperor's heart!"


A corner of his mouth rises up in a crooked smile.


"Would you dare go to your king with your true face Hyeon Jong? Would you dare test the truth of his love?"


Her eyes blurs with acidic tears. She knows she would never do that. She cannot - and the knowledge gleams in those silver eyes - pain wrenches her heart.


"Keep your promises and your walls will hold. Break them, I will have you burning with your fortress. The choice is yours. Choose well, Hyeon Jeong mama."

Notes:

Thanks for reading! I'll be back as soon as time permits.

Chapter 70: Dragon's Blood

Summary:

There is no weapon deadlier than ignorance.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The boy rides on his own. He is too young for the giant war horse, Jung watches waiting for a disaster to happen.
Yet the boy - no - he mentally corrects himself - the creature that wears the skin of a boy, merely runs a hand through the irate animal's mane, muttering words he does not know. The horse has become a stringless puppet at the fingertips of that thing, Jung watches in horror, too terrified to imagine what the creature could possibly do to humans.

Destruction, is his second name and Jung's horror only grows with time. At first he thinks they would march straight to Shinju, it had been the plan as long as it was Wook calling the shots. But now, a ten year old riding at par with the emperor and the eighth prince takes them around the previous target, spreading terror over the outskirts of Shinju like thunder clouds foretelling a storm.

The Kang forces meet them at regular intervals. Kang Shin's men take the words of his daughter over that of the imperial edict. It is difficult to crush them, when at their helm Jang Mi dictates every move. They keep to the dark of the night and small groups of men. Their front lines are moonlight archers, taking advantage of the weak sight during the night time.

On the first village the imperial forces capture; joint forces of Kim and Kang falls in bursts of small deadly groups. The ambush comes as silent as death and would have caught them in the dead of the night.
Instead the ambush finds an exiled God laying in their wait.

It is the first time Jung witnesses the horror of killing, despite the thousand battles he had taken part in. The boy allows their men to fall, allows the enemy a false sense of victory. He lures them in, completely into the parameters of the newly set up camp.

Except for the fire in his eyes, they drown in darkness. In the eyes of their opponents, victory is in sight. It is only then, that the boy kneels and touches the ground. The white fire of his eyes brim over and spills into the very air. Jung feels it prickle against the back of his neck, the whip like lash of heat against his cheeks and before his eyes could take it in - everything that the air touches begins to burn.

As the world slowly burns around him, filling the air with screams, hastily muttered prayers - exclamations of the wrath of the silver eyed dragon - the boy turns around. His small figure dwarfed by the magnitude of the destruction he had caused, he turns, meets Jung's gaze and smiles.

He is filled with ice, frozen to his place. The boy approaches him, smelling like fire stones, blood and smoke.

"The ground is yours, general," he says. "Put your men into digging."

He takes Jung's hand and places a fist full of fresh earth on his palm. The dirt smells similar to the boy, fire stones, blood and smoke.

"Remember the scent," he says softly. "Stop digging when you get a whiff of this scent."

It takes Jung long months of grovelling through village by village of fallen innocents to finally understand. By the time they come to the last village Jung is aware of the trap that is being laid out. Even a God of old could not topple the walls of Kangs. Instead it is their own forgotten defensive mechanism that would bring about their downfall.

The scent of fire stones, blood and smoke comes from a substance that the creature calls 'dragon's blood.' It fills a system of narrow tunnels running below ground, criss crossing over the parameters of outer Shinju, cconcentrating with the fortress of Kangs at their centre.

It must have been a trap laid out for an army marching against the Kangs long ago. Now in the ignorance of current occupants of the fortress their weapon had turned upon the Kangs themselves. And the old prisoner of the fortress knows exactly where he could find those passages. With his power that could ignite the air itself, he would explode the walls that none could bring down. Each village that the Kangs lose, is one more step closer to their doom.

Only Jung could save them. Only he knows the truth. Jung thinks of what he was about to do only for a fraction of a moment, he would do this for all those dead people - for all the men they lost and for Seol who did not deserve to be a chip in a bargain with a monster.

It is that conversation which he overhears by mistake that decides Jung's actions for him. The witch has promised Seol to that creature. His blood boils from the moment he learns that those traitors had stolen Soo's baby to use her as an offering in their dark rituals. No, he could not let Soo's death go in vain by failing to protect her baby. He could no longer think of Jang Mi or the last family she had left if she had allowed a baby to be used in such a vicious manner. He decides that he would put an end to it. By means that the same creature has taught him.

Jung steals dragon blood and a new fate is set in motion.

*

Weariness settles on his shoulders,  ruins of a battle left in the knots of his muscles and ache in his bones. It reminds him of long gone days in Shinju, of wolves, fire and endless winter nights. The memory is so acute that he could taste the smokiness of air on his tongue. He finds the pain pleasant - for it is the cost of sanity, of fully reclaiming the power over his own limbs. Through the haze of bloodied memories, Wang So becomes the master of his own again.

The rythemic sound that he comes to is the open flap of a war tent. The dump smell in the breeze that moves it is familiar in a sickening way; Shinju. The ever frozen barran lands of Shinju - after the snow that veils its ugly browns had melted away. He mentally calculates the time, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The seasons have turned. The smoky air carry the rust of blood. Outside, he could hear the unmistakable clutter of an army.

On his hands - he finds half dried stains. It's revolting, to think of faceless, nameless men who might have died at his hands. So draws in a rattling breath, swallowing down the self disgust. To think he could again be reduced to nothing but a weapon at another's hand - after everything! All he could find are scattered fragments of memories, flashes of killing and blood; that taste of an unquenchable fury. All his life he had wondered what it would be like inside that monstrous woman's head, now that he had the acidic taste of her madness, So wonders no more.

His armour is half undone, hanging around him like a half eaten carcass. So tugs at the leather bindings, tearing away the bloodied plates of metal.

"Women of Kang dresses their men for battle."

Her voice filters through the clearing haze, a half forgotten memory of yore. It was a different war, a different time. They had stood on the same side then.
He gets up on unsteady feet and tears his way out of the flapping entrance. Outside the blue cold dusk has descended, blankets of fog beginning to drop over the camp fires.
Against a darkening sky, So could make out the familiar silhouette of hills. Outskirts of Shinju, he mentally corrects himself. It couldn't possibly take them so long to get here. Unless; the thought produces a weary smile, Jang Mi has proved herself true as a war blooded Kang.

The dusky landscape smokes from a recent fire. Around him So notices the skeletal structures of hanoks that had fallen to flames. The air stings with sparks of power, he feels their static pulse against his skin. So pauses, taking in the destruction around him. This isn't war. This is a massacre. He wonders what sort of purpose the deaths of remote villages achieve? They could barely see the wall of Kangs at this distance -

So raises his hands when static sparks prickle against the back of his palm. There is nothing his eyes could see but the pricking sensation only increases.

"Those are lives lost in battle," answers a voice behind him. So doesn't expect to see Kang Seo, as dirty and bloody as he is, to stand before him. War field was no place for a child. Something stops him from speaking out that thought. Through hazy memories he watches the silver fire that this child wields, how the very air answers and obeys his commands to self ignite. He sees that fire in his eyes now, contained yet raging - molten silver.

"Who are you?" He asks.

"Does that matter - your majesty?" The boy meets his eye, his unflinching gaze is white as the summer sun.

"Seo - ya," So starts. There is a demonic twist to his face, an evil aftertaste that has not been there before. So thinks of his own experience of being trapped in his mind. He could only too well understand the suffering. Whatever holds the once innocent young boy in its claws, bares its teeth at him - or at the hills in the distance, So is uncertain.

"It took me so long to get here. To get this." He mutters to himself. "How I long to watch my prison crumble."
Those silver eyes met his.

"The smartest fort could very well turn into the deadliest grave. Only - it takes thousand years to learn that. Those who built the compound of Kangs did not have such time."

The static buzzes again and the boy waves an irked hand.

"Ignorent souls, still greedily hanging into their measly memories on earth."

"How many -" So takes time to phrase his question. "Did you kill?"

The boy shrugs, they could have been talking about killing bugs instead of people.

 

"Enough to bring you back into your senses," he says abruptly, leaving So rather numb. The boy raises an eyebrow. "Since when did death bother the wolf dog?"
"You did this for me?"

A short silence follows. They boy stares at the hills longingly.

"They are so beautiful...still," he says. "Though you'll never see their true beauty unless you see them from above."

"Why are you doing this?"

"People are bound by promises made to Gods Wang So, so are gods. Long time ago I promised to keep you alive, despite the consequences. I promised someone a king to sire her child, a throne for that child and for him to survive his foes. This is the last of my promises to be kept."

The boy staggers a bit. He steadies himself by clutching a handful of So's sleeve. So looks down at the tug on his sleeve. "I've come the furthest Gods would allow me. I can do no more."

A deep seated cough rattles the boy's bony frame. He leans on So's arm for support. So notices the burns on his arms, the angry scaling on the back of his palms. Seo coughs and splatters blood.

"Seo? Seo ya!"

His silver eyes had blurred. When he collapses So holds him, kneeling on the still smoking ground.
"This was the last village to be taken. The last vein to find. By noon tomorrow fortress of Kangs will go up on flames." He says.
"Lyla...refuses to run. Save her."

"Seo," So says, tapping on one clammy cheek.

"You have one night," Seo splatters. "Warn her that they have found the vein. By sunrise the witch will reign again. Do not waste my efforts."

So did not understand. He looks around torn between giving into the boy's urging an his concern for the boy's life. It is then that his eyes fell upon his estranged brother, coming towards them.

"Jung!" He calls, having no time to second guess.
The fourteenth prince pauses for a moment searching his face before rushing up to him. Though he does not forsake his age old bitterness, there is a faint relief in his face.

"Imperial brother," he says.

"Take care of him," So says, shifting Seo to lean against Jung instead. "Keep him safe until I return."

"He is fine," Jung says moodily. "Come morning he will be fit to kill. It is just the evil taking toll on him."

"Wang Jung!" So tries and fails to keep his frustration out of his voice. "Keep your opinions to yourself, this is an imperial command."

"Ye Pyeha," Jung says with venom. He has more to say but Seo opens his eyes again, reaching for So's hand.

"Tell her - Liquid fire of old ones is coming."

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

As you might have guessed we are at the very last chapters. Soon it will be time to bid this story good bye.

I do not want to rant on my end note, but there is something I think should not go unaddressed any longer. This will be the first and last time I'm taking up this issue.

This story is close to my heart. I have very special love for the drama and this is one of my imaginations inspired by it. I have full creative freedom to do what I want. I don't think I deserve to be called names, questioned about my love for the drama or be a general target for hate comments because a fan fiction I wrote was not to a certain reader's liking. By all means if you don't like don't read. Don't come to my inbox with your malicious comments which I'm anyway going to delete and waste time both yours and mine.

On a brighter note, the majority of lovely souls who keep inspiring me by simply being their loving selves - I can't begin to tell you how much it means! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!♡♡

Chapter 71: Queen's heart

Summary:

Despite the scent of destruction Jang Mi smiles. She is home.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The fortress of Kangs no longer sleeps. As villages fell, their occupants turned to the fortress for shelter, their queen for safety. It has been hours since sun down and the torches flicker in steady beacons, Jang Mi watched from the watch tower high above the wall entrance as the wheels crunched continuously, turning, opening and admitting more and more injured commoners and soldiers alike. They had lost yet another village and the imperial army still had not made an attempt at the fortress.

Some of the men looked up as they passed under the arch into the compound of Kangs, bowed their heads in reverence to her. Jang Mi wondered how deserving she was of such respect. This battle - their lives - were slipping from her hands. She feels weary. Her pregnancy had proceeded to the last of its days and she feels, large, lethargic and restless. There was little a woman who could no longer step into the battle field could do in a war. Maps and books and spies could not substitute for eyes and ears and instinct. She had not seen this silver fire they talked of, or this wrath of the silver eyed dragon. Most of their men returned blinded, their stories horrifying, their minds veering the edges of sanity. They all carries messages from that forgotten god etched upon them. They did not know. She heard it every time she touched them, that steady inhumane beat of a heart.

“Ly - luh - ly - luh.”

She had spent the entire evening staring at the maps, once the war council took their leave. Those brooding old men who had led and won wars with her father and the first emperor looked at her just as a symbol of their glorious fight. They simply wanted to exhibit her, the mother of the future king - the first king with Kang blood, the rightful queen - she had several names now. But this is not what Jang Mi needs. Not her son in the throne, not her name in the history - nor blood in her hands. The history she had known as Ha Jin - had seen being laid out as Hae Soo - is no longer a possibility. Yeon Hwa was gone and so was the prospect of children she could have had with So. Wook was driving the Hwangbos to the end of their greed and corruption and Kims of Gyeongju were rising. At the root of all those changes was her, the woman that kept returning to this time, the woman that kept changing this time. And yet, while her heart told her that the end was fast approaching - or at least an end to this cycle, Jang Mi failed to see what her instinct felt. She was missing something, it was staring right at her and she was not seeing it. The base of the torch was always dark.

“Does it never tire you?” A voice asks her from behind. It is Seo Nui, slowed down by her own pregnancy, looking paler than ever in the torch light as she made her way up the watch tower. There are no court ladies helping her, no maids, no guards - Nakrang might have allowed Jang Mi’s will prevail in the matter of keeping this child alive, but the matriarch of Kims will not go to any excessive lengths to ascertain her well being. Seo Nui pants a little by the time she makes it, she clutches a hand at her chest and gives Jang Mi a rather reproachful look. “Does it never tire you - holding court over so many foolish men? Portraying yourself as some symbol of fortune - when you know very well things have gone far beyond your control?”

Jang Mi takes a moment to consider that question.

“Foolish men?” She decides on her answer rather bitterly. “Why - because they choose to listen to a woman? Being one yourself - one so capable in propaganda - do you still think women are incapable of leading?”

“There maybe women capable of leading. But they are corrupted just as easily. I’ve seen it happen with my mother. With most queens of my father’s court - with Yeon hwa - have they decided with her posthumous name yet? You too are building up a taste for all this fanfare mama.”

Jang Mi regards her with a rather cold look.

“Had I truly been corrupted and greedy, unsure of my own standing as you say - dear lady sister, you would have long been forced to drink a concoction that causes you to miscarry.” She says rather sharply and then blunts the force of her words with a smile. “Forgive my bluntness.”

  “You think this is your mercy? That I will think of this as mercy?” Seo Nui inhales begrudgingly. “I know better mama, I am the string you are using against my mother. To keep the Ryu forces with you even when you are blindingly leading them to certain death. Me here and my sister there.”

Forces of Ryu has to take a side, lady sister, and with us or with them - death is always a certainty in war. Have I not promised you enough in return for what you are losing? After all your betrayals - after all the traitors your family has produced, have I not promised your future daughter a throne - the highest place in the pavilion of moon?”

“And if it’s not a daughter?”

Jang Mi was tired of this conversation, of Seo Nui’s resentment. She was beginning to wonder if she had done the right thing by promising Kims and in turn Ryus more power over the throne in future. This engagement of two children who weren’t even born yet, might end up creating unfathomable repercussions in future. She turns to Seo Nui, deciding to end it once and for all.

“I am not your enemy. Nor are you mine. But you must understand it is a traitor’s child that you are carrying. I do not wish to say this.” Her hand unconsciously clenches over the place where her own baby is resting. The baby had grown so attuned to her touch that it kicks gently. “I am a mother too. I wish no calamity upon any child. But I am also a queen. I am also the mother of the heir. And my heart cannot move beyond the limits set by the dignity of my lord husband’s throne. Nor will my mercy. Pray that it is a daughter… lady sister. I will pray for you as well. Because even my heart will not be able to protect a traitor’s son.”

“You are cruel!” Seo Nui snaps, angry tears glittering in her eyes. “You are heartless!”

“Not by choice,” Jang Mi tells her. “But a queen has her limits.”

She turns away and calls out.

“Lady Noh! Lady Han!”

The court ladies followed by few others make themselves known.

“Let us go back. One of you please help, princess Seo Nui back to her chambers as well.”

“You will all your lesson in fire -!” Seo Nui screams after her. “How long do you think these walls of yours will hold up against the silver fire? You cruel - heartless -”

“Will you give her some camomile tea?” Jang Mi massages her forehead adding in low tone to lady Noh. “Add some Lavender too. It will iron out her nerves.”

Lady Noh bites back a smile.

“As you wish Mama,” she says. “Where are we going? Back to the war council?”

“If the old men have had their fill of arguments and left, yes, that is where we shall go.”

“You could give them one order of silence and they would not dare talk back to you.”

Jang Mi glances at lady Noh.

“I have been a baby at this place Lady Noh. Most of those men have carried me on their shoulders. No amount of silence orders would make them not think of me as a child deserving of protection. What I need is General Park, here, as soon as possible. If he comes, some semblance of control would be regained.”

“He will Mama. The last we heard he was at three days distance.”

Jang Mi doesn’t reply to that. She hopes General Park would bring her some reassurance or see what she is missing. She clings to that thought, because the thought that laid beyond - the actual yearning was a gaping wound. She wanted - no, needed - So. It was he, she wanted by her side during this war. It was his input that she wanted on those maps. It was his sword that she wanted protecting her in case she could not draw her own. And she feels sick with yearning. She feels so delirious with want that she had seriously considered ordering her men to abduct the emperor from the war field.

“Where is Eun Mi?” She enters asking the question and is immediately answered. Eun Mi or court lady Han is trying to calm down a crying Seol. Her distress is so clear in her face.

“Omma!” Seol calls, waving her arms. “Omma! He is hurt - he is hurt!”

“It’s a nightmare your highness,” Eun Mi tries to coax her again. “No one’s hurt.”

Jang Mi goes to sit beside Seol, and Seol cuddles against her still crying. She could no longer lift Seol up, So Jung Mi holds her close instead.

“He is hurt,” her voice is muffled against Jang Mi, and punctured with sobs. The girl wipes at her eye with her fist. “It hurts…”

It is then that she sees it, the marks that have etched themselves on her pale, little arm. Court lady Han leaves a little strangled scream before falling to her knees.

“Mama - I have not - please, I have not even pinched the princess.”

Those aren’t pinch marks. Jang Mi has no doubt about that. They are angry, glaring red, and the raw skin looks rather painful. They are burns. But not burns on the outer skin, burns that appear from within. Jang Mi draws in a hiss of a breath and tries to sooth her baby. More of those marks appear along her throat and her crying increases.

“Save him! He is burning! It hurts!”

She can’t help it but remember the words Seo Nui had screamed after her.

“You will learn your lesson in fire.”

Fire. Burns.

“Who is burning darling?” She asks absentmindedly stroking Seol’s head. Her thoughts already settling into something far more horrifying.  

“Keir…”

Jang Mi pauses and stares at her baby daughter. She had sounded so strange, so different to her own self just then. Her juvenile mouth had folded that foreign, that forgotten word with such ease. Her hands shake, before they clench themselves. That word was forbidden. That name was forgotten. That god, was exiled.

Jang Mi rises abruptly, her heart in her mouth. She knew what was coming. But perhaps she was already too late.

“How long till sunrise?”

“Six hours Mama.”

“We need to remove everyone - call the council at once.”

Before Lady Noh had even turned, a soldier, bloodied and out of breath, enters the chambers without waiting to be called. The women turns to him, all caught in various expressions of shock.

“Mama - at the gate - please - you must hurry!”

Her back protests the sudden movement as Jang Mi turns, but she refuses the arm lady Noh lends to help. Her feet cannot carry her any faster. The sound of blades, the shouts of men mark the spot of chaos. Jang Mi pauses at the very edge, that sound of blade striking is rather familiar to her.

She pulls free the sword of one of the guards as she steps up, raising her voice as she goes.

“Hold - your arms!”

From behind them the scouts led by grand Prince Anjong returns, she notices him dismounting with his blade drawn as well. Jang Mi raises a hand to him, since he is too far for her voice to carry. The last injured man between them falls and the intruding soldier who had caused a massacre at her gate pauses as well. Blood grips from his sword and cakes his face. But his eyes are clear of the haze she remembered.

“Step back!” Her voice cracks as she commands the remaining men. “Step back - and kneel to your imperial lord.”

She plants her own blade in the ground, and lowers herself unsteadily.

“Pyeha…”

Behind her the fortress of Kang sinks into deeper bows. And before her, grand prince Anjong and his men too sink into their knees.

“Pyeha,” they echo.

So throws away the sword without a thought, reaching out instead to hold and raise her from that rather uncomfortable half curtsy. His eyes rake her face, greedily, drinking her in, assuring himself that it is no dream.

“Lord husband,” she greets him now, her voice still shaking, her vision blurring with tears. It feels like an age at the same time it feels as if they had never parted at all. So pulls her against himself and his arms tightens around her. Even as blood and rust and scent of destruction fill her senses, Jang Mi smiles, burrowing against his heart. She was home.

Notes:

It's been a while I know. I've been busy with my offline life and my other writings. But I have not abandoned this fic, just a little heartbroken over the behavior of certain people but not enough to stop me from finishing what I have started or nor valuing this story which is after my heart.
I'm pleasantly surprised and humbly happy to see Wolf and I have crossed 10K views, truly, my readers are a treasure! Thank you for being you!
Will see you again soon!
PS: Find me on wattpad, where I'm more active these days if you wanna talk :-) Same username @charmash
And those who did and reminded me of Wolf and I, thank you! <3

Chapter 72: The Last War - Part I

Summary:

The truth sets them free.
One war comes to an end leaving broken hearts at its wake. Without giving them a moment to mend another war begins as an exiled god returns with death at his heels.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There are welts in his hands. Bands of raw skin that climbs along his forearms and vanish into his folded sleeves. Jang Mi says nothing as her fingers lightly trace over them. She knows that pain has a way of anchoring the consciousness – she just regrets her own failure in saving him from that. So holds her wandering hand and entwines her fingers with his – urging her to meet his eye instead.

“No,” he mouths.

Jang Mi combs the fingers of her free hand into his hair and sighs, holding him close. She could steal herself a moment; she decides, even amidst chaos. Water in the bowl had turned a tint of watered wine. Jang Mi leaves uses the damp cloth one last time to wipe along the line of his brow before leaving it in the bloodied water bowl. She doesn’t ask So whose blood it is that he wears. She doesn’t care.

“You already know,” he says after a moment. “You’re evacuating.”

“They attack at daybreak,” Jang Mi bows, clenching a fist as her heart skips a beat. Her greed born silence cannot be allowed a moment more. But still her eyes linger on him, trying to carve those features into her mind. So would never see her face again once he hears her confession. “I see the question in your eyes Lord Husband, you wish to know how I guessed.”

Another sigh and she draw away from him.

“So – “her voice trembles. She chokes on her fear, suddenly very afraid of his reaction. She may wear the face of his lover, but he never forgot that she was the other woman. He never loved her as deeply as she had fallen. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. No matter who urged me to. No matter what my reasons were…”

He follows her when she turns away, reaching to wrap his arms around her, his mouth presses against the side of her throat and she closes her eyes in a rush of an exhale.

“Calm down,” his words are pressed warm against her skin. “I can feel your heart, its frenetic. Calm down. There is nothing in this world I won’t forgive you for.”

“Oh Lord Husband,” she chuckled bitterly, one of her hands reaching to clasp his. “I’ve done something that you will never forgive. At that point I did not think I would ever crave your forgiveness so. But truly, I can’t forgive myself anymore. I deserve your sword and you may swing it at me. I’d take it gladly, but please – “her voice breaks again. She snatches his arm from around her and places his hand flat against her stomach. “Please let your child live.”

So turns her to face him, shaking his head. His large hands cup her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks to wipe of the tears that had thoughtlessly spilled. Jang Mi gathers the last of her falling resolve and presses on.

“I have made a pact with an old god – a rather brutal, exiled mountain god. In exchange of this face – I’ve tethered Seol’s soul with that of the silver eyed dragon.”

She doesn’t tell him that it was Ah Ri – or her aunt in her guise – who had performed that enchantment. She doesn’t tell him that apart from sitting for the ritual with the stolen child on her lap she had done nothing. She doesn’t give a single reason for her innocence – or rather of her ignorance as first understanding and then bitter fury etched itself across So’s face.

He stumbles back, his hands slipping from where they had cradled her face. Jang Mi closes her eyes to bitter tears and barely holds herself from collapsing on her knees. The child kicks her rather painfully, knocking her breath for a moment. She lets the tears fall and punishes her by watching how So withdrew himself.

“Seo –?” he asks after a moment, his voice rather withdrawn.

“Is possessed by the Silver Eyed Dragon.”

So curses under his breath.

“You could have cursed me!” he roars, gritting his teeth. “I was your culprit – why? Why my child? Why Seol?”

His shoulders wind in tension as if it takes all his will power not to strangle her. It is enough however that she sees the violent storm of rage brewing within him that she gasps, finally falling to her knees. So makes no attempt to stop her or help her up. Instead, he turns away.

“I don’t wish to see you again,” his voice is void of emotion. “Once we have put this battle behind us, you will remain here – indefinitely.” Jang Mi chokes on a sob but does not contradict him. “You will have no contact with either of our children. You have proved that you are not fit to be their mother.”

“I accept Pyeha.” She seals her fate with tears. “I – “her vision blurs with tears and she sobs, knowing full well that she could do nothing to reverse what had been done. She doesn’t expect So to kneel beside her, his mouth twisted bitterly.

“Do you realize what you did to us?” His voice breaks, “do you realize what your hatred did?”

She looks at him. Through her tear – blurred vision his face swims between rage and disappointment.

“Why would you do that to my child?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper. “Please – give me a reason. Tell me you didn’t know. Tell me you didn’t mean to. Damn you woman! Beg for mercy – save yourself!”

Jang Mi folds her hands into a gesture of a prayer but does not beg. Instead, it is So who collapses against her, gathering her into his arms and she reaches for him, bunching fist fulls of his collar as she dissolves into sobs. They were broken, perhaps, never to be mended and yet – neither found any peace apart.

“Tell me you didn’t mean to,” he mutters against her hair, combing through it, with shaking fingers.

“I won’t let him take her So,” she promises instead. “Even if it kills me. You won’t lose Seol. You won’t lose her.” She raises her head to look at him now, resigned to his resentment. “You don’t have to forgive me. I accept your fury. Don’t forgive me. Don’t forgive me.”

“I made you do it – didn’t I?” He asks her bitterly. “This is why you wanted to keep her away from me.” This time when he draws away there is a bitter darkness of self-loathing hanging over him. Jang Mi shakes her head frenetically, yet he doesn’t see. “No child deserves a father like me.” His eyes search her face with despair. “Ask your old god to take me – “he chokes.

“No,” Jang Mi protests, drawing So against her, holding his shaking frame against her as he heaves. “No,” she insists, unwilling to entertain the thought. “You will survive this. You have to.”

I cannot watch you fall.

You are too late for that my foolish Rose,” his voice is a hiss, words no longer his spiling from his lips. Jang Mi jerks back, her arms slipping from around him as recognition sears through her. So remains kneeling where he was, his eyes paling into silver of dirty ice. Those eyes narrow.

“Not just him – everything around you will fall.”

He folds himself to a crouching battle stance, slowly picking himself up with the lithe grace of a panther. All the while those smoky eyes remain watching with a wicked sense of amusement.

“You look horrible, niece.” There is no mistaking of the tilt of her aunt’s voice. “But I must admit its amusing to see you finally kneeling.”

Before she scrambles back to her feet – fingers clench on her hair rather painfully. Jang Mi bites back the scream that threatens to rip itself from her throat and instead glares at the evil that had found no peace even after death. Her aunt’s low humourless laughter is piercing in So’s throat.

“I couldn’t think of a way to rip him apart. Should have trusted you to provide me with the perfect means.”

She is pulled to her feet unceremoniously and flung away scrambling towards the door. Jang Mi only manages to balance herself perilously before she hits the door. The resulting crash and the laughter attract guards. She bars the door on them shaking her head in a mute gesture for the men not to interfere. The horror in their faces tells her of the blood trickling along her forehead. Jang Mi turns back from the locked door wiping off the same.

“Will he live with blood of you and your unborn pup in his hands? I doubt it.”

She is too slow to deter those hands – that find and clasp around her throat. Jang Mi chokes on her air as her head bumps into the wall. There is no mercy in those silver eyes.

“So!” She whimpers, dark spots dancing in front of her eyes, her fingers clawing at his grip trying to pry his hold. “Please – wake up! Wake up!”

Her aunt laughs.

“How useless you’ve become – my rose?” She hisses. “I could cut you open and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. Where are your needles now? Where did all that training go?” She breathes down her face, there is a scent of death in that breath. “Don’t worry, I will make sure he remembers how you died. How helpless he’d been against me. It seems a fitting gift against all that stole my baby from me. A fitting gift indeed…”

“He’s not dead,” she manages to cough a gulp of air in between the clenching claws. The evil snarls.

“You dare deceive me?”

She could taste blood in her mouth and her eyes blur with tears.

“You’ve lived in a deceit for as long as you lived. That is the truth.”

“Don’t you –“

“Have you ever thought why the summoning went wrong? Why the boy despite being a Kang – despite having blood of the Silver Eyed dragon in his veins couldn’t host his soul? Even you could do it – the sickly baby Seo could do it. Why couldn’t he?”

The claws retreat, silver eyes narrow. From beneath the maps of the war table the ghost that wears her husband’s guise fetches a blade.

“Lie to me,” she dares. “I will rip you open.”

Jang Mi has to reach out and grasp a wall to remain standing. Her body aches, her airway burns. There is a different pain building up that weakens her knees.

“The penitent’s confession,” she says. “Even if they tried to hide from you – you must have seen how often Wook’s thought would turn to it. How desperate Hwangbos were to find it.”

“What of it?”

“An arrow to shoot down a star they said.” She gestures with her chin. “It is there. In that box. It is written in the language of Ryu shamans. You can read for yourself.”

Jang Mi flinches trying to contain the pain as the ghost takes the decaying old paper scroll with fumbling hands. And she waits, clenching a hand to her swollen belly and trying to catch her breath. The blade clanks on the ground and the spirit trembles in its shell – turning to her finally, with stricken eyes. Jang Mi gasps softly as pain pangs through her.

“He is your son,” her voice is a whisper. “Don’t hurt him.”

She could no longer stand. Since the war had begun and the villages started to burn, since she had left So in the clutches of an evil madwoman – for the first time Jang Mi fears for the lives of her children. She could feel the thrum of power in the ground – the pulses of energy in the air. There is concern in the gray eyes that peer down at her then, large hands cup her clammy face.

“What have I done?” She hears her aunt’s acute despair in that voice. “Why did I let those women play with me?”

Jang Mi blinks at her, trying to focus her blurred vision.

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” her words are punctured by a hiss of pain, a gasp of air. Jang Mi clutches at his wrist. “Give him back to me.”

The ghost nods, silver of those eyes fading away into a sheen of tears.

“That’s why the god’s chose you and not me,” there is understanding and acceptance in those words. “I’ve never understood what their words meant – it’s only right that I no longer hear them. It was hubris that I thought I could punish gods. I’ve been a foolish woman.”

“You must stop what you have started,” Jang Mi tells her, for she sees no other way out of it. “Call off the war, call that god you’ve set loose. Restrain him – end it – be it the last you do.”

She’d never have imagined to talk to her aunt in such a way in the days gone by. But Jang Mi feels a certain end nearing – she herself is sinking into darkness and that ungodly beat of an exiled god’s heart. He was coming and she would not be able to fight. She barely feels the last kiss that dead woman plants on her hair. She is gone then and it is all So, folding her into his arms. His hands shaking as he tries to wake her.

“My war is yours,” she tells him; soft words dissolving into her heavy exhales. “I can’t fight anymore…”

He mutters something against her temple, apart from his warm breath she cannot comprehend the words he utter. Jang Mi feels saddened for So, for her aunt who could never make peace with the child she loved so dearly, but damaged so thoroughly. She wonders if it hurt him, to think that the woman who had been so cruel to him – who he had so bitterly hated – had actually given him birth? She wonders then what sort of thoughts her own son would think about her – the mother who had left him to a raging battle.

“We shall survive this,” Jang Mi isn’t certain if it is So or her own heart that utters those words. They were words that she no longer believed, but words that sounded like home nevertheless. “We shall survive – you and I.”

It is the last thought she completes before the air ignites itself just within the wall of Kangs. Men guarding the wall do not even get a moment to scream as everything along with the rocks that had weathered an age where kings had risen and fallen goes up in blindingly white flames. The resulting explosion booms like the apocalypse itself and echoes for miles around. The wall of Kangs fall and the Silver Eyed Dragon rides back to his age-old prison with death on his wake and white fire at his fingertips.

 **

Notes:

Keep an eye out for the Finale sometime this week. A hearty thank you for anyone who is here.
Lots and lots of love,
Sakura

Chapter 73: The Last War Part II

Summary:

There are ties of old that binds them, eons old. Even an ancient god could not forsake those he has once held dear.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Their world is coming to an end in fire and ruin.
The Silver Eyed Dragon comes with the enemy at his heel and the ancient stone crumbling on his wake. Furious white fire dances on the tips of his fingers. There is no end to the chaos that ensures.
He'd slept for eons, that the world he wakes up to is prickly with its novelties. The time had done nothing to the fury that burns within him, or the scars of betrayal and broken promises that he carry. The Silver Eyed Dragon had waged war for nothing but retribution.
He does not find salvation in the crumbling fortress or the rivers of blood. A befitting sacrifice, yes, but a hallow one.
He had expected the emperor to do more. He had expected to be thwarted, he had expected the man would have kept his Lyla safe, safe from the fate that awaits her every lifetime.
The old god is furious at the recurring disappointment. He would end this world in white fire this time.
When they meet again, he is reeling with it, and that acidic taste of failure in his mouth.
What he meets is two traitors in the guise of one. The emperor who has failed to keep Lyla safe and the former concubine, who has made so many promises over the time and broken them all in one fall swoop.
He detests both.
"She is dying," he spits, the white fire roaring in his blood. "You've failed me again."
The emperor, or the ghost, dares to brandish his weapon. When he should have been scrambling around to save her instead.
"You will not pin the blame of your actions on me, the Silver Eyed One."
His laugh in response is devoid of humour.
"You dare suggest that I am responsible for your failures?"
"All these years you've kept the truth from me!"
It is the ghost, he concludes. The ghost has finally found all the missing pieces.
"Step aside," it takes an eons patience to keep those words steady. "Step aside and let me through."
"We are no longer allies in this war," the ghost's smile is pathetic. "You have no hold over me, oh great god. The time you waste here, attempting to take on a woman already dead and gone - the shadows are tearing through your armies."
"They are not my armies." A pause. A breath. More acidic reminder of death. "This is not my war. Step aside!"
The white fire around him roars in warning.
"You've led me a merry dance," the ghost continues to seethe.
"I do not wish to strike him down," the Silver Eyed Dragon, counters. "Step aside and save your son, Concubine Kang."
The sword he draws is misplaced on the hands of the slight and sickly boy, but his eyes are alight in the light of white fire that surrounds him.
"What do you fear, you old forsaken god? It will not be the first time you'd struck down an innocent. It will not be the first time you've foregone a promise."
"The bargain you made with me was to give your son the throne of Goryeo. I have fulfilled my bargain."
The understanding that dawns on the ghost is ugly and twisted.
"So, then you - you -"
"This is why your old ones said, that a bargain with a god has its price. What you have paid is the price for that precious seat. Had I imparted the truth to you then, while your grief would have ceased, your original motive would be lost."
"You cruel thing..."
"You - who has been cruel to her own flesh and blood, has nothing to accuse me of cruelty. Cease this madness at once."
"It must have been fun to play with my ignorance."
"Everything earthbound is ignorant in one way or the other," his reply is dismissive. "I have never made a vow to keep you enlightened. I do not play the spy to the lowly."
"And yet, how the lowly had brought you down..." the ghost chuckles. “Is it not true, my fallen god? The venom runs in your veins does it not? It burns every time you draw on your power - with every lick of white fire, do you not burn a little too?"
The laughter of the ghost is weirdly misplaced. It is neither woman nor man, neither a full-blown cackle nor a throaty chuckle. It rings in his ears and makes him appraise all the minor pangs of pain he'd been feeling all along.
"You!" His growl causes the white fire to erupt around him, circle him with blinding flames. The ghost does not move, merely tilts his head to the side and grins.
"You've been poisoned with your own dragon's blood," the tone of the ghost is mocking. "How does that feel - oh mighty god?"
He should have counted treachery as a part of this woman's character. Should have known that she would make arrangements for his disposal behind his back. Should have known that the young prince - already pawn to many - would be the perfect hand to borrow.
The Silver Eyed Dragon draws a breath, taste the acidic flavour of death on his tongue anew. He was being compelled to abandon this vessel as well.
In the pause where his breath wheezes within his ribs, the beat of her heart drowns him. It is a tired thump, a faint and wary cry of failing life. With each faint flutter, Lyla draws distant.
The roar is torn from him and the fire rages. A hum fills around them and the very air explodes. The veins of dragon's blood running below their feet sizzles at that touch of fire and stones rumble.
With his vision blurring and the venom searing in reply to the power that he draws from his soul, the Silver Eyed Dragon sees the victory flashing in those silver tainted eyes of the possessed emperor.
The falling stones create wave upon wave of thunder that resonates. The ghost laughs.
"I have not lost my touch at using the old gods, have I?"
The throbbing in his head brings him to his knees, the thunderous crumbling continues and the ground itself shakes at the impact.
"You will not take my home, your beast! I have borrowed your hands against your own forces."
The ghost approaches him now, reeling with his sense of victory. A cold hand cups one of his cheeks, bringing his notice to the stinging cut there.
"How amusing it is, to know things the gods do not," the ghost whispers. That touch burns on his skin, sinking into his mind with claws of treachery and darkness. The ghost allows him to share memories of the recent past.
"The chances of stone against fire are slim, if any."
So has little experience with the Kang war council. It is full of naysayers. He wonders if briefly at the amount of patience Jang Mi would have to have practiced with the old fools her father had long cultivated. He brings an end to their tirade with a brief glance.
"Depends on the stone and the fire," he tells them shortly, turning instead to Baek Ah.
"The lower city is beyond salvation at this point. We should be focusing on the second line of defense." Baek Ah continues his thought. "Imperial brother, you are more familiar with the layout of the compound. What exactly ..."
"The river gallery," So tells them. "Watch towers set towards the enemy across the river. It serves no purpose when we are being ambushed by the other side."
Baek Ah stiffens, understanding drawing over his features.
"You mean to topple them?"
"This is no card castle!" One of the advisors exclaim. "What could possibly..."
So does not waste this breath on the man. Even if he had wanted to, it is difficult to find the proper words to convince the war council of his means. He is yet unfamiliar with the power humming beneath his skin, tickling at his fingertips. He has not yet made peace with the revelations that had changed his equation with the spirit that had sort to enslave him.
Yet the concubine Kang had cultivated her abilities for ages, if there was ever a person to take a cursed god head - on, it had to be her, the wolf - maiden incarnated. Her blood that run in his veins, long since unacknowledged, now sing with the power lent by her soul.
"I could."
A short pause follows his words.
"They have dragon's blood," Baek Ah recounts slowly. "It is in the very soil that we stand, they have means to explode everything."
"Yes." It had been foolish of them to not prepare for this eventuality. "They have means to explode, but they do not have maps to route where the fire would lead."
From the acumen of a shadow, Baek Ah's eyes gleam.
"We do?"
"In the archives. The ancient builders of the Keep have mapped the veins of dragon blood running beneath the walls."
"That sound," the ghost gloats now, “was of the gallery tower collapsing. Stones raining upon your armies." The ghost chuckles soft and wet in his ear, the pain ringing loud inside his head. "Poor thing, don't you attach yourself to the mind of each soldier, in order to coordinate them? How does it feel to die hundred times at once?"
His teeth sink into the inside of his lower lip and draws blood, the Silver Eyed Dragon refuses to make a sound, give the ghost the satisfaction of hurting him. Yet the weak vessel begins to fail him, the venom finding and latching into the weak points of his circulation.
"You'd think that breaking into the Compound of Kangs is victory. What you do not realize is that the Compound itself is a death trap."
A crack runs in the ground beneath his palm. The eyes that look up at the ghost are bloodshot.
"We are on the same side," his words are strained with effort, blood splatters in between them. The emperor's hand twitches, his eyes clearing of their silvery trace. The ground rumbles beneath them and the wall behind begins to tremble.
"You should have been with her."
"I would keep the war from reaching her." He is uncertain whether it is the ghost or the emperor that speaks then. He burns with failure and venom consuming his insides, there is blood on his hands. He clenches his fingers just as the wall collapses
"So would I."
*

Notes:

Don't forget to read the last chapter.

Chapter 74: The Last War Part III

Summary:

Even the old, cursed gods choose you

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She wavers between dream and reality, darkness and light, confused between identities and existences, timelines that have tangled.
"Stay awake - your grace," a hand is tapping at her cheek.
"Lyla..." whispers a distant heartbeat.
"There are eye movements!" An exclamation from a different time.
With a breath that burns inside her, Jang Mi returns to the chaos of Shinju war. The Thunder of collapsing walls make her teeth rattle.
She should have known better than to entrust her aunt to keep them alive. The woman only knew to counter destruction with more destruction.
Her vision goes in and out of focus, pain sharp on her spine, the air reeks of her blood. She sees the fear in the faces that surrounds her.
"Your grace!"
"No," she is half uncertain whether the word was meant for the court lady or for herself. "Not today."
With a groan that rumbles form the base of her throat Jang Mi pulls away from the woman's hands reaching for her. Her limbs protest against the movement and pain shoots through her spine, curling around her hips - clenching at every fiber of her being. Even if she had wished to she would not have kept down the scream that is torn from her.
The stench of blood intensifies when she moves. Jang Mi barely pays notice to the matter, or the bevy of court ladies trailing after her.
"Your grace - no!"
"Your grace the ground is unsteady!"
"The gallery tower is collapsing!"
"Your grace!"
They were to survive together. She would not take his sacrifice. It is utterly selfish of her to waste the hard-won time in this manner - but if she had ever learned to leave him behind, they would not have wound up here in these circumstances at all.
The air is thick with dust and the ground unsteady beneath her feet. The world lies in shambles and ruins.
"So!"
They would always find each other in fire and ruin, Jang Mi thinks off handedly. The dead is scattered around her, both enemies and allies, the fire licking at them perilously while stone and dust continue to rain upon them all.
"So!"
The call is choked on her breath and a cough rattles her. When she pauses enough to breathe, everything aches with vengeance. Jang Mi's vision blurs and she barely balances herself from slipping - yet the search she carries on.
"So!"
A hand swathes around her ankle, tugging her back and almost tripping her. A smaller hand caked with blood that still glistens in the firelight. A startled yelp escapes her.
"Ly-la..." Dust swirls with his breath, his voice barely audible.
The sharp pain that shoots through her spine makes her collapse on her knees, still staring at the dirt streaked and bloodied face of her young brother. Those eyes are different, the look in them ancient. Jang Mi takes a tortured breath.
"Who are you?"
"Does it matter?" He wheezes. "We are all dying anyway."
"No. We are not. Where is my husband?"
He points towards a vague direction, collapsing again in a fit of blood splattering coughs. Jang Mi scrambles towards the rubbles, tossing them off with bare hands until she could reach him.
"So! So! So..!" He is bleeding, but the sheen of silver is gone from his eyes when he opens them with a rattled gasp.
His hands cradling her face are blood stained.
"Seo," he says after a moment, sitting upright and trying to catch his breath. There is an urgency in his eyes. "He is poisoned."
"He is not himself," Jang Mi hates herself for the words she has to utter. "The war depends on him..." Her heart squeezes at the thought, of the sacrifice they would have to make if they were to survive.
"No." So shakes his head, his thoughts clearer. "He saved me when the wall collapsed. Maybe many times before too. I owe him my life."
Jang Mi chokes on a sob, watching the sickly boy now held in So's arms. He is barely breathing, blood trickling down his nose.
"Take charge," the boy mumbles. His lashes fluttering over those anciently silver eyes. "The traitor lives."
He reaches out with a bloodied hand and brushes it over So's temple. As they watch the bleeding cut begins to heal itself. The boy shudders and splatters blood.
"Go! Stones will not hold them off forever. Go! Go!"
All they have time to share is a glance between them. As she watches through pain blurred eyes, So takes picks his blade from the rubble and vanishes into the fire and ruin. Jang Mi turns back to the boy.
"You healed him."
"Hyeon Jeong." Whatever inside him, was not her baby brother. "I have a long due promise made to keep him alive." His lips draw back into a smile that looks frightening in the face of a child. "And you'd want me alive to keep him alive, don't you - Hyeon Jeong?"
"I will not make bargains with you -" she gasps when her insides clench with pain and the child groans.
"You will, Hyeon Jeong," his conviction is blood stained. "The thread of my life is tangled with that of your king," he groans again as if struck by a sudden invisible sword. "It is I, who fights his battle, it is I, who keeps him alive. You will save me, to save him. Or are you looking forward to perish together?"
A hiss passes between his pressed lips and Jang Mi notices the gash that appears on his arm, as if drawn there in blood but bleeding on its own. The realization takes its time to settle on her conscious, and the boy's laugh is dry and blood stained.
"Aren't I right, Hyeon Jeong - you will not let me die."
*
Wook was no stranger to the fatality of ambition. He'd seen it consuming a fair share of his family. No man who has seen kings rise and fall would expect himself to win a bloodless crown. But the extent of destruction before him rattled something within. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and his lips parted in an exhale.
The keep itself was a deathtrap. Those collapsing walls had taken a good portion of his men and the rest had fled, without taking the risk of seeing the battle through.
It will not be the first time when he had been this close to the throne and had it snatched away.
Nor will it be the first time he is facing this particular advisory.
"Wook."
Wang So wears blood with the same pride and ease he wears the dragon robe. In the firelight he glistens like an avenger of death made with brandished copper. His blade is already bloodied. There is murder in his eyes.
"So."
"Now would be a good time to stop this war you've waged in my name brother."
Wook laughs despite himself.
"History only remembers the victor's version," he gives a mock bow. "My king."
The collision of their blades had been years in the making. The clank of metal meeting metal rings through the chaos.
"Yield, Wook - you've already lost."
"Have I? And what exactly have you won, your majesty?"
They perry and they strike. Fending one way and the other. Wook had managed to draw close enough to brandish a second knife and plunge it on his side while his sword arm keeps So's sword engaged.
So kicks him away, following with a slash of his own.
"Have you ever learned the honor of war, brother?"
It was a wasted question, Wook would never renounce the easy way towards his desires. But his eyes are wide now, his complexion pale.
"How? Why?" He splatters, barely managing to dodge the next strike. He keeps staring at So. "Why don't you bleed?"
So merely tilts his head.
"Maybe the god you've unleashed upon us had a change of heart."
"Urgh!" Wook's frustration is loud and furious. He'd never been the choice of heavens after all. His next blows are charged with that knowledge, the fury it strokes. He refuses to go down a failure, a cursed being always falling short of success. If he was not to survive this battle, he would do his all to take their blessed choice down with him as well.
*
The boy splatters blood, clutching his side as he bleeds profusely from a newly formed wound. Jang Mi's lower lip starts to tremble and she clenches her shaking hands.
"Don't die." The words sound worthless in the battle noise that drowns them. He looks at her with bloodshot eyes.
"Save me, Hyeon Jeong."
It is a difficult choice. Letting the old god perish would free them of the bargains already made. Seol would be free of their implications. The land would be free of the darkness he brought with him. But at the same time, she and So would not survive this war.
"Tell me how."
She resolves not to regret the decision she makes. It has always been a matter of survival. As for the repercussions of this particular bargain, she would cross that bridge when it comes.
The boy reaches out for her with a bloodied arm.
"Take me to the cracked stone."
They were both in pain, both bleeding and within an inch of death. The walk to her aunt's ancient shrine is the most excruciating one of Jang Mi's life.
They collapse on the stones, throbbing with awareness of the blood bath happening. The dark energy of the shrine makes her skin crawl with aversion.
The boy's silver eyes are burning with power.
Jang Mi shakes her head.
"I am no shaman. I have no divine powers."
"You have the Kang blood. Blood of old gods." He holds out his hands for her to take. "That is all you need."
She feels the crackling static energy the moment their hands touch, the world pales around them and the noise of the battle is suddenly cut off. Jang Mi draws in a startled breath, feeling the burn of the venom that sears through his veins.
"Follow its path," the boy mumbles, barely holding on as the power continues to drain. “Seal it away."
He seems to draw the very breath from her and her conscience wavers. Her veins seem to catch fire with those white flames and the world dims away.
*
It is a dance of death between blades and flesh. fury and bitter resentment in Wook's eyes are the only memory that remains etched in So's mind. He is too far gone to stop, to yield.
It is another brother he would never manage to save.
He knows better than to tempt the fate when it offers him the opportunity. Unerringly, his blade finds, meets and sinks into the rare gap between Wook's metal breast plates.
The fury remains frozen on his face for a moment longer before the pain, and the inevitability of it dawns upon him.
If Wang So thought of himself as a better man, he would call it mercy. He'd killed too many of his own to nurse any such illusions about his own conscience. He was a godless man. Yet a blessed one.
"It all comes down to the stars, doesn't it?" Wook groans, weary as the blade slips from his hands. Cut down to his knees, he stares at the ruin around him with new eyes.
So drags in a breath, wordless.
"Even the old, cursed gods choose you."
Wook looks up at him.
"Why don't you end it, your majesty?"
So shakes with the next exhale, his limbs weary as he lifts the blade.
"How do you live with so much death, So?"
He freezes, those words sinking deep into his conscience. Wook's bloodied lip curls into a mockery of a smile. So would let him take that victory, he'd consider it a fitting farewell for a brother who had never learned where and when he went wrong.
"I live knowing that to some, death is mercy, brother."
He doesn't avert his eyes, doesn't give Wook the satisfaction of knowing what sort of a deep scare with particular sword-strike would leave on his psyche. Instead, So takes it as a duty, a judgement to deliver, justice to be made to the deaths this man had caused, end to the cycle of destruction he'd commenced.
Rightfully, yet not without regret, another of his brothers falls.
*
The last Jang Mi remembers of her encounter with the old god is the white flames. The burn that seemed to consume her very existence. She wonders if it is a retribution of sorts, for all the ruin and death she'd unwittingly sought.
She accepts it willingly had that been the case.
The small hands brushing over her face are warm and familiar. The boy no longer looks frighteningly ancient, or haughty - even if they are both closer to death than they'd ever be, Jang Mi feels gladdened by the sight.
Maybe that ancient higher power had not completely ruined her baby brother.
"Thank you, Lyla." He mutters, his silver eyes pensive. "After ages, saving you has brought me peace. Thank you for being alive."
Just then, he seems to be a god she'd pray to.
"My child?" Her thoughts are barely audible, other than the burning she could hardly feel anything.
"Conceived in one war, born in another. He'd have a fate written in fire and blood." Despite his words, the boy smiles. "Your son. Keep that in mind when you name him, Hyeon Jong, remember he'd conquered the dragon's blood. He was not the one written, the one supposed - it was you, who brought him forth."
"Blood and fire," she repeats those words, half wondering whether they were a blessing or a curse. "Dragon's blood. Yong."
The ancient creature in the body of a young child nods once, seemingly satisfied. A befitting name, to a child who has changed the fates. He'd be the beginning of a new circle of time. Your son. Yong."
She floats into cool darkness with that, timeless and thoughtless.
Yong.
The prince who was not to be.
The child of war.
Crown Prince of Goryeo.
Yong.
Her son.
Their son.
*

Notes:

There will be an epilogue, to nicely round off everything at 75 parts and of course to tie up all the ends with a bow.
The story continues in Snow n' Starlight. If you dig around a little, you'd know where to find it.
Thank you for reading and of course, for keeping an eye out on this for so long.
Loved writing this, writing here of all places and all the lovely souls I got the opportunity to meet because of that.
Find me on twitter @elvenladysakura or Instagram @elvenladysakura or even tumblr @elvenladysakura if you want to follow up on my other works, or to discuss anything under the sun with a touch of fiction or fantasy.
Thank you all for existing!
Cheers!
Sakura