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Rain on me

Summary:

Chances were slim of winning her love - and now chances are slimmer of seeing her alive. From where he stands, between devil and high sea, to save her means to lose her forever.

The moment he makes the choice life just becames the most exquisite form of torture.
In which So saves Soo from gallows and palace but perhaps also loses the only chance of ever winning her love...or does he?

An AU retelling from episode 11 onwards.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Cursed Prince

Summary:

A choice between life and love, sets in motion a different fate.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Bruised clouds bleed, the sky weeps and the rattling wind howls. The world is drowning in the unceasing, merciless rain the prayers of a cursed prince had begotten. It pours upon them, in curtain upon curtain of ice cold water - drenching everything earth bound to their weary bones.

It is freezing in the cellars where the prisoners await their fate. Torches in sconces hiss when the water pour upon them and the misty vapour rise like claws of a ghost. The guards suppress a shudder, it is only the beginning of their shift.

The man in question - the master of the rain ritual is coming towards them. The guards exchange a look, half puzzlement and half scorn. In the teeth clattering hours of the night, they’d rather not deal with a prince - let along a cruel one, and one recently poisoned and still on mend - especially not, when the former one is the famed wolf - dog from Shinju. But there is no escaping of misfortune. Their looks turn darker when the said man, Wang So the fourth son of the present emperor turns the final corner and crosses the rain washed yard towards them. 

He looks pallid and ill, the faint edges of his scar forbidding against the dark rings under his eye. It had only been hours before that he was there, threatening violence - trying to obstruct the administration of justice. Now the man was back, still looking weary and world worn but determined enough. He comes meet the court lady, who is set to die come sunrise. 

Lady Oh takes to the visit in her usual unperturbed manner. Her bow to him is brief, her face as impassive as ever. She waits for him to speak, which he tries a few times before succeeding. 

“Thank you,” he says gruffly in the end and swallows. “For saving her.”

Her eyes snap to his and holds, slightly narrowing. 

“Pardon me - your highness, my intention had not been of serving your interests.” She keeps her tone light, least she ends up offending an imperial heir, but still allows it to sound stiff enough. There is bitterness in her heart, directed towards the palace in general and the princes in particular who pulled Soo - the daughter after her heart - into this quicksand. 

“Then, you’ve failed.” He informs her, not even a tad bit affected by the tone she chooses for him. “Your passing will leave a wound nothing could ever heal - it will ruin her, lady Oh. The price of the life she is to live would haunt her forever.

She gulps the lump forming in her throat unwillingly. The prince knows his way with words. She thinks of Soo, broken, battered and still stubbornly clinging to life - finally shattered at the realization that she would be losing her. She thinks unwillingly of the girl who had hysterically tried to find a way to escape - a tunnel, a trapdoor, - anything so they could both live. I cannot lose my mother, yet again. She had said. 

When she speaks again, lady Oh’s voice breaks. 

“How is she?” She asks hesitantly. He doesn’t reply. But perhaps he doesn’t have to, for she can guess, the headstrong yet naive yet utterly selfless girl would be up to no good. 

When she looks at him again, she sees the prince for the man he has become and reminisces the boy he had once been, instead of the cruel woman whose features she had trained her eyes to pick out in his face. The woman she hates with an unwavering bitterness of her own - the murderer of her unborn child. But then, the man who stands before her was there for her child as well - a different child. 

“You came for her,” she says slowly. Unconsciously she thinks of the other prince, the one she loves, he had asked lady Oh to save her where he couldn’t. He had not predicted the resultant scars on the woman he claimed to love. Or he had not cared, as long as the woman he loved survived. Quite like his father, she thinks with a slight note of displeasure. He too had not cared how she continued to crumble under the restrains of his world - as long as she remained by his side. But then - 

“Your highness isn’t the man she loves.”

“So she says,” the prince says lightly, with a tilt of his head and a ghost of a smile. “It makes no difference to me.” But then he takes in the narrowing of her eyes and the sudden tightness of her jaw. “I do not take by force what isn’t given willingly - lady Oh. What I meant was it makes no difference to my feelings - my heart once given is given.” She says nothing in reply but her shoulders visibly relax, her exhale is softer. “She thinks of you as a mother,” he says then. “Must you make her suffer the loss of one, again?”

He reads her too well. He loves her. She hates herself for seeing hope in bleak skies, for doing something - far too daring - even for her. But her words spur forward on their own accord. 

“Do you love her - your highness?”

Her questions is sharper than she had intended and the prince stiffens at its abruptness. His jaw is clenched in a way that reminds lady Oh of his wretched mother once more - no, she must not thinks of that woman. He takes a moment, but never blinks away. 

“Yes.”

“Then you must take her away from the palace.”

“You know that is impossible - lady Oh.”

She inhales slowly, noting how his resolve is crumbling. Now that she had decided upon it, lady Oh decides that she would take the plunge after all. 

“If she stays - she would have to bear the burnt of a heart broken emperor’s wrath. Irrespective of truth - his majesty would see her as the reason why I am no longer by his side.”

“Which is why you must not die!” He exclaims. “You don’t have to do anything, beg for a day or two - await until the eighth prince would bring the truth to light and let the real culprit take your place.”

“The eighth prince?” A dry chuckle escape her. “He is the one who begged me to act where he cannot.” Her words cause him to inhale sharply, a little bit of fury that he keeps smartly concealed twitch at the corner of his mouth. “The court lady who prepared the poisoned tea is dead - your highness. The truth has closed its door on us.”

“I -”

“You said it does not matter what her feelings are!”

So itches to turn away, leave the woman without looking at her pleading eyes. He did not mean he would not mind Soo to hating him - which she surely will if he acts on what she suggests. 

“No.”

But he cannot bring himself to leave, cannot tear his gaze away from hers. The old woman speaks the truth. He is already ordered to go back to Shinju, an order the emperor never retrieved and Soo would be alone here - to fend for herself in the absence of lady Oh, under the rule of a king who lost his beloved to keep her alive.

“She will hate it,” he says in a small voice, a voice that makes him cringe at how weak it sounds. “She will hate me.”

“But she will live,” lady Oh says softly. He wonders if there is an edge of pity to her tone, there and then gone. “If your highness’ feelings are true as your highness claims - why is it so hard to choose?”

He doesn’t answer, or turn to look at her. She sees only a flash of whitened knuckles in the fist he clenches and then he is gone - as swiftly as he come.

And the silver of her last dawn starts to crawl in.  

So wishes it is that easy to run away from the words she brands upon him. They trail after him, nipping at his conscience - the curse of choosing. 

Her heart or her life. 

Someday or never. 

He stands in the rain for a moment, allowing it to beat down upon him, heavy drops tapping against his shoulders like knuckles rhyme. There is no joy in the rain anymore, not when he knows that she is there - kneeling on her bloodied broken knees - praying for a miracle that would never come. The cold - if only - makes his fear run deeper and burn hotter. It feels hard to breathe. He tries to imagine her face, twisted in scorn or faded in indifference. He could not bear her momentary anger before - but now - as the steady rain beat against his back he tries to imagine what hate would look on her face. Like acid perhaps - like poison. 

But then, he sees her and sees nothing more. 

She is so small and white, drenched to the bones and barely - barely - alive. Around her the rain falls into the slate gray sea of paved stones - they must be freezing. And for a moment, instead of hate, he imagines her face cold - her eyes empty and distant. For a one wretched moment he imagines her gone. Then he realizes that he is freezing, it hurts - strangely in a hollow manner. 

He had survived an entire lifetime of hatred - it was nothing new - even if it was poison. But - but the alternative -

Then he knows what lady Oh had meant when she said - if his feelings were true - the choice wasn’t that hard. 

Mind made up and heart breaking he steps up to her. The rain slaps against him, and the wind howls at him - he cares for neither as he shields her from both. It must be true, he thinks then sardonically. He was cursed - to crave the love of those fated to loathe him. 

Hate me - he thinks - but stay alive, stay safe, stay by my side. Hate me - curse me - but please don’t leave me behind. And I’d do anything - anything and everything - you’d want me to do. I’d do anything that I would have to do.  

He thinks of the moment she touched his face, looked into his eyes as if he was whole. The center of his universe had shifted then, and the change of gravity was pulling him now. He would do anything to protect her, the choice was never a choice at all. 

And the bells start to toll. 

**

“Go to Jin,” the emperor doesn’t look up as he addresses his fourth son. His tone is curt like the growl of a wounded animal. “I do not wish to see you for the time being.”

The penalty of defying the monarch is death, but for a man who had narrowly escaped that recently - the emperor was willing to make an exception. He waits for a beat for the said son to thank and accept his benevolence but gets nothing except for silence. So he looks up. 

It is only then that the prince bows, graceful but rigid the emperor knows a man with purpose when he sees one. 

“I will obey your command - your majesty,” his tone is carefully neutral, the emperor throws a swift look at the astronomer who looks rather unsettled himself. “But I have a request to make, may it please you.”

The emperor narrows his eyes. Those words weren’t exactly out of turn, but he felt certain that what followed would be. He rolled the scroll he had been reading and turned his cold gaze upon his son. “I shall go where you wish to send me, carry out duties as you command - I will forever and more be a faithful alley to the crown prince and a fearsome enemy to those oppose him - if lady Hae Soo is permitted to leave with me.”

Ji Mong drops something, rather dramatically. It clatters on the ground and the silence that holds a breath ready to explode seems to swell with it. The emperor turns slightly purple, but the gaze of his son never wavers. As if, he had not just uttered the most incriminating sort of speech in front of his monarch. 

“Wang So -” says the emperor, his tone icy and so very smooth. “All those things that you mentioned are part of your obligation to the king and the country. Do you wish to name a price for your loyalty?”

“Your highness - do beg for pardon - I -” the astronomer tries to intervene. So shoots him down with an icy glare of his own. But his eyes are for his father. 

“Your majesty do not believe in my loyalties anymore. Is it not proper that I offer to reinstate your majesty’s faith in me - somehow? I am offering your majesty a bridle to rein me in. Give her to me - I’ll be yours to command as long as you wish to.” Refuse, you will lose my support forever. He doesn’t say that but the emperor reads it in his eyes loud and clear. The old man frowns, clearly giving into thought.  

He did not wish for any of his sons to get involved with that girl anymore. On the other hand he did not wish to set his eyes upon her again either. But then, her connection with Mu was openly questioned in court. Those ministers under Queen Yoo’s thumb had implicitly suggested that it was the crown prince who had used the court lady to poison the fourth prince - an opponent for his throne. If she was to be linked with So…would it not reflect the charges back to the faction making them? Would it not stain the image of the prince they were trying to use as the champion of their cause against the crown prince? Would it not at the same time, take both So and the girl out of the game of thrones for a while. So would no longer be of any use to his power hungry mother and at the same time he would have bought his loyalty in Mu’s behalf forever. Dare he refuse, would that not mean he creates a chance for So to take advances from his mother’s faction seriously? Would not that mean he would create an enemy for Mu - another, more resourceful one than his third son? 

“You cannot marry her,” he says in the end, “I will not allow it.” His son bows but doesn’t acknowledge his remark. If anything it stirs his fury more. “You may take her as a concubine if you wish to.” And satisfyingly he notices a corner of So’s mouth twitch in a flicker of temper. “A disinherited lady - a disgraced court lady -”

“I owe her a huge debt - lord father,” when he speaks next, his eyes snap back to the emperor and the old man is unwillingly forced to stare back at the full glory of his once scarred son’s unblemished bare face. “It would not do for either of our honor to forget that.”

“Very well,” the emperor sighs wearily. “Very well!”

It is then that his son bows, truly lowering himself. 

“Your benevolence knows no limits - Pyeha,” he says then. The emperor tutted, unhappy but left with no better choice. “And Wang So,” he calls after, rather sinisterly. “Now that I have paid the price of your loyalty - do not forget that if you fail the sword would fall on her neck before it finds yours. It is no longer the kinship that binds us, but the bargain we made here today. For the sake of that girl’s life I hope and pray that your loyalty never falters.”

The prince doesn’t reply but merely bows again and takes his leave. His shoulders hunched as if there’s a new burden placed atop them - the emperor watches him leave wondering why he does not look as happy as a man who got the last word in the argument should. 

“Your majesty,” Ji Mong speaks slowly, as if uncertain whether to break his trance or not. “I’m certain with time the fourth prince would learn the ways of -”

“He has learned the game a long back astronomer Choi, now only he is willing to play it.” The emperor replies, thoughtful yet not utterly displeased. “And he plays well.” He turns again to look at the disappearing figure of his son with an unreadable expression. “There goes Wang So, finally a prince.”

Notes:

Hello! I've been working on this for a while. It begun on request of a friend but I grew to love the idea as I progressed. :-)
I'm sure if you wait around for a couple more chapters you'll see why.
It is another historical setting fic, where I play in the sandbox of history. So nothing is accurate until I've taken pains to find and incorporate any historical events.
Its alternate universe cannon divergence - sort of what if, so let's just leave the palace behind and go on a road trip to Jin!
Thanks for reading! Hope to see you around for future chapters! :-)

Chapter 2: Traitor

Summary:

She's a traitor now - like he is a monster to them.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Thunder nips at him with each step that he takes. The unceasing torrent of rain falling upon them with vengeance washes away the last remains of concealer from his face. Wang So is a monster bared to the world once more. 

A forked tongue of lightening flashes between the rolling purple clouds, its reflection curled around his eye in angry ridges of red. Slipping between folds of consciousness that is all Soo manages to see - the lightening and him, in a span of one harrowing breath.

Fury that he radiates is not quelled by icy rain - instead it lingers on rigid lines of his frame, on his clenched jaw, on the hard look in his eyes staring straight ahead. He doesn’t look at her - even once, as he carries her with a gentleness she would not have expected from his brutal hands - with her head cradled against the warmth of his heart. 

Her limbs are heavy - the pain only a dull afterthought. Soo does not wish to be removed from that place - from her protests, from the last opportunity to see lady Oh, but she has no strength left to fight against him - or anything else. The cold curls and settles under her skin like a lullaby laced with poison. Such a destructive thought had never occurred to her before, but now she drowns in it. Settled against the negligible heat provided by the man who carries her, swaying to the rhythm of his strides Hae Soo closes her eyes, wishing to open them never again.    

Drenched garments does little to separate them, the number of layers only serving as an added weight. He feels every faint movement of hers, attuned to her as he is. Therefore So feels it just as Soo surrenders to that ruinous thought. He feels her will to survive draining away. One arm with angry welts and purple bruises blossoming around the wrist falls and dangles with each step he takes - like a flag of an abandoned battle

His own fingers curl around her in a tighter grip, trying and failing to call her back to him - trying and failing not to see himself in her devastation. He feels anew the pain of his mother tearing open his face - the pain of her walking away from him when his tiny hands tried to clutch at her skirts - confused, hurt and not understanding the sudden turn of her heart. He had once been something delicate and fragile too - once - too long ago to remember - he had been her. Then they had stripped the silk from his soul and left him a prickling thorn and he had abandoned the battle - like her. 

It is easy, he knows well, it is easy to give up - go with the wave. But hard to be the one left behind, where healing hurts as much as the wound. It is selfish of him that he doesn’t wish to let her go, even when he knows the survival would extract its price - he clutches her close covetously, as he had yearned to be held by his mother upon that forgotten time. 

She cannot die - he thinks adamantly - she cannot leave him , like all others . He will not allow that

The courtladies stare unabashedly with their mouths agape when he carries her to the prince residence. So ignores them with acquired ease, their eyes would always follow him with barely masked distaste. He expects no aid from those prime and proper servants of crown anyway - it’s a taboo to touch a traitor, even out of humanity and their eyes linger on her broken figure with a satisfaction as if she’d been devil incarnate. 

He would deal with them later. 

To his relief, the older physician called to his service from a rather lucrative practice in the inner capital still remains waiting at the antechamber. So cares a little for the troubles of a man turning up to check on a poisoned prince and  discovering him gone for the third constructive day but instead carries Soo inside to gently deposit her upon his bed. She smells of rain and blood, so unlike the softer, brighter fragrances he associated with her. She smells like death if not for a faint flutter of pulse. He rounds upon the physician who trailed after him into the bedchamber. 

“Treat her.” 

The older man throws a quick look at his bare face, shudders and then hangs his head, hands folded. 

“Pardon me, Wangjanim - but I cannot dare. Aiding a traitor is treason itself.”

Behind him the unconscious girl thrashes weakly, warding off invisible enemies - mouthing incoherent words. For one astonished moment, the prince says nothing but his fist clenches into a white - knuckled grip. “If I may dare extend a word of advice, I caution you off this particular path Wangjanim, if she is to die it is heaven’s way of punishing her for -”

“Complete that sentence,” the prince snarls. “And I shall no longer care for your life.”

The man shudders but stands his ground, if only bowing deeper. In his old, weary age the physician did not entertain any thoughts of false bravery or challenging the wolf - dog. But neither would he allow himself to be intimidated into facilitating treason. 

“Forgive me wangjanim - this old servant would not dare go against the words of his imperial majesty.”

When the prince approaches him, looming over him like a malicious shadow, dripping with icy water he tries to remain unmoved. For a long while the prince says nothing and the old physician dares not raise his head. He is unarmed - the man mutters a silent prayer of thanks - for his life is spared even for a brief second longer. But there is a burden in his gaze, that almost throttles him with its pressure. The old physician chokes and tries to maintain his calm in spite of his sinking heart. 

“Examine her,” the prince says softly. 

“Wangjanim I cannot -”

“You need not treat her. Examine her and tell me what should be done.”

Surprise makes his head snap up and meet the dark eyes of the so - called monster prince. There is a crease between his brows and evident worry in his eyes. 

“Your highness will -?”

“Anything - I would do anything.”

**

She burns with fever, shivering one moment and aflame the next, a broken cry often escaping her cracked lips. 

Her wounds have festered. The old physician had said. There is little hope. 

He thinks nothing of stripping away the sodden layers that cling to her shivering frame. For the horror of revealing more and more bleeding gashes leaves him with no pleasure. 

“No…” she mutters feverishly, trying to halt his hand. For a moment her eyes flutter open, bleary and unseeing. Terror in them makes his blood run cold. She had looked at him with that alarm once before and he had forced a kiss upon her then. “No!” She mutters again, thrashing - her teeth rattling. 

His fingers knot in her hair and hold her still. So rests his forehead against hers, seeking a threadbare solace for his breaking heart. 

“Forgive me,” he mutters. “I will never touch you again - I promise. I promise. I promise.”

He chants with each exhale, a piece of him breaking with each utterance. She pushes at him weakly one last time before going completely limp against him. One of her palms laying flat against his heart, curled fingers clenching at nothing. 

The sight of her knees makes him recoil, if only for the briefest moment. And So sees what the physician had meant. The torture had pulled skin off flesh and flesh off bones - twisted, crunched and ruined. They weren’t wounds but chasms of flesh, starting to rot and die. 

She might never walk again. If the bone isn’t reset properly. 

This was supposedly a punishment from heavens, he thought furiously. A punishment for what? For making him feel like a human instead of the animal they had fated him to die as? Would the heavens they worshiped so diligently be cruel to such decree?

How many days had she carried those wounds, bearing their pain - walking on those tattered legs, kneeling on them … he couldn’t bear the thought. Instead of screaming at him for bringing this curse upon her, she had asked him if he was alright - she had worried for him when her own body was rotting away.

He cleans the wounds with a care he had never mastered for his own uncountable number of injuries - and plenty of hot water. She shudders and groans and protests weakly, in the throes of her feverish delirium. The water runs red, and the chamber stinks of blood. Thick tears of pain dangle from her lashes and seep into her unbound hair. He averts his eye unwilling to be reminded of the agony he was causing. So touches her leg with a tender hand, biting his lip, until he tastes his own blood. Resetting the bone would hurt, would hurt so much. 

“Forgive me,” he mutters again, knowing full well that she doesn’t hear him. 

She cries out sharply - like a last cry of a wounded animal - even when he tries to be as swift as he could manage. He tries to block it away, his hands trembling. 

“Please Soo - yah, please just a little longer. Just a little. I promise.” He mutters tasteless words consoling himself, his hands never pausing as they wrap her tattered flesh in fresh bandages. 

She shivers violently, but makes no move to stop him. Instead she clenches her fists until her nails draw blood. He reaches for her hand once he is done, easing open her fist by gently rubbing on her raw knuckles. 

Her hands used to be beautiful, delicate and white - they are bruised, swollen and scratched red now - her fingers trembling. He looks up and catches her staring at him - her eyes open and bloodshot. 

“You won’t let me die,” she mutters bitterly, her voice comes out a rasp. An accusation, a well placed blow. “You meant it when you said - I’ll be never free - I..”

“Don’t say that,” he presses those ruined knuckles against his mouth, hurt and reeling from her words. 

“Go away!” She chokes, unable to continue, unable to bear. He blenches at the venom of her tone and almost stumbles back when she adds in whisper. “ And let me die!” 

“No,” he pulls her closer, her head tucked under his chin, his arms clasped around her. “No - never!”

“Let me go! Let me die! Please - please - let me just die! I killed her, it should have been me. I - I -” she chokes on her words and he kisses the top of her head. 

Soo sighs in disappointment and self loathing. The fear and guilt chokes her. She doesn’t wish to see anyone else taking a fate meant for her and this man - this foolish brute of a man had already drank three cups of poison. Her heart clenches at the words she utter, hoping to chase him away, hoping to rid herself of the curse of causing further damage. But he is too strong for her to fight off, too stubborn for her words to injure. His arms if only, tightens around her weary bones and it is hard not to give in and allow herself to find the solace that she yearns for. 

“Go away…” she mutters weakly. “Go -”

“Forgive me,” he mutters against her hair, a large, warm hand running down her back. “Forgive me, but I won’t leave.”

Her eyelids droop and close, the pain and sleep both returning in waves. Why not - she thinks drowsily. Everybody else did.

**

“That bloody animal!” When the fourteenth prince barges in with a growl Wook had just completed with twenty seventh circle pacing around his study. He freezes in his tracks and watches the red hot fury on his half brother’s face with alarm. The worry he had been nursing since last sundown increases rapidly. In these early hours of morning it is not possible for another misfortune to befall them is it?

“What is it - Jung?”

“Hyungnim, you must come with me at once!” Demands the younger prince, gritting his teeth. “So - hyungnim cannot be allowed such atrocities.”

So - again. Wook thinks rather darkly. He is yet to come in terms with So stepping out in support for Soo’s foolhardy protest, though he had not witnessed it himself he had heard too much of that account. 

“What has he done…” now? He swallows the last word with effort and places a restraining hand on Jung’s shoulder, retaining him from smashing something of value in his study. 

“Soo!” Jung snaps and his scowl turns darker. “He is forcing himself on her.”

For a blessed second Wook fancies himself mistaken, he had surely misheard the words Jung had uttered. But the thought doesn’t stop him from going completely rigid or from his fingers sinking into Jung’s shoulder like claws. 

“He is what?” He asks slowly, icily. He would pull him apart limb by limb if he as much as touches her.

Jung grits his teeth. 

“Yesterday he took her to his prince residence instead of Damiwon . Nobody is allowed to enter. And the courtladies - the courtladies - they are saying -”

“Saying what?” Wook snaps with enough venom to make Jung flinch, but he cares not, his own fury crossing the threshold of restrains faster than a tide. 

“They heard her cry hyungnim,” Jung utters anguished. “They heard her begging him - she is injured, she is ill, she was barely alive. How could he - how could anyone -”

Wook clenches his jaw and releases his bruising grip on Jung. 

“Come with me -” he doesn’t wait for Jung to follow but instead marches out on his own. His temper boiling. He wished Jung was wrong, mistaken, miss - informed, but heavens forbid if - if there was any truth in his words Wang So was a dead man.

They run into Baek Ah outside, just short of the main courtyard. Wook almost brushes past him blindly, Jung at his heel when Baek Ah reaches out to hold his arm. 

“Where are you going Hyungnim?”

Wook pauses and inhales. Perhaps Baek Ah could put him out of his misery.

“We are going to inquire about Soo,” he tells him. “See if she is awake. See if -”

“Remembered her have you?” Baek Ah sounds sarcastic. “Where were you all these days hyungnim?”

Wook brushes off his condemning tone with a frown. 

“This is no time for such conversation Baek Ah -”

“Don’t go.” Baek Ah says abruptly. Again, Wook tries but fails to read his expression. “You will not be able to see her even if you do - hyungnim.”

“Why not?”

“So hyungnim -”

“So it’s true -” Wook growls. “I will kill him!”

Baek Ah has to physically wring him back this time. He has no idea why Wook is so agitated now when the battle has been fought and the dust settled. Darkly and to himself he muses what sister Myung Hee had ever seen in this man to fancy him with all her tender heart. 

“An imperial edict!” He says loudly, forcing Wook to gather himself. 

“What?” Wook exhales, his shoulders hanging. 

“So hyungnim has appealed to imperial father. His majesty has granted him leave to take her out of the palace - as his concubine.”

Notes:

I hope this chapter stands for the expectations the first chapter has created. But that is for you to decide. Do let me know your thoughts. Writing without feedback is awfully boring. :-)
Thanks for reading! Stay safe and healthy wherever you are!

Chapter 3: Penance

Summary:

It all goes wrong and she ends up breaking his heart.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It is a thin line between anger and pain, a chasm between provocation and cruelty down which on that particular morning So found his temper tumbling down perilously. The soldier’s jaw made a satisfying crunch beneath his knuckles, splattering him with freshly drawn blood. Comrades of the man took a collective step backward afraid of becoming the epicenter of his fury next. There was no trace left of the prolonged celebrations carrying out from the previous night in the camp anymore - apart from the red faces of men, stumbling and swaying and finding their balance by clutching into each other’s shoulders. Instead the garrison held their breath in anticipation as one of their numbers became a pulp of bloody bones under the savage hands of a brutish prince. A man who had supposedly ripped jaws of wolves apart with his bare hands - what chance did a poor soldier well into his cups has against him?

So feels as if his blood is on fire, the veins behind his eyes bursting with the pent up fury. He wants to kill so badly, or perhaps he simply wants the pain it caused him. The skin on his knuckles are raw and bleeding, hissing painfully in the cool air. The man had fallen on his knees a long back, moaning and no longer even trying to avert the blows raining upon him. Perhaps he truly is a brute as everybody suggested - for he wants to keep going. 

“Wang So!” Distantly, some unfrozen part of his mind registers the voice of his older brother; the crown prince. Soon after his arms grab him around and pulls him off the bloodied mess he had caused, hoisting him off his feet for a moment with a disgruntled grunt. So growls, struggling to free himself, still raving and unsatisfied.

Mu having decades of experience in the battle field and in handling men, instead reaches for a barrel of water to draw a bowlful and splashes it on his face. Ice against his prickling skin douses the fury that clouds his senses. So shakes his head, splattering water everywhere as he does and stares at his older brother, breathing heavily. 

“What in the heaven’s name…” Mu begins. 

Reminded, So turns away from him towards the groaning injured man at his feet, stealing shuddering glances at him through half swollen shut eyes and the rest of his companions - regarding each of them with a razor sharp look. 

“Her name will not cross any of your filthy tongues or I’ll have them removed myself. Understood?”

None of the stupefied men makes a sound. 

“UNDERSTOOD?”

“Yes, wangjanim…!” The men jerked out of their shocked silences by the tone of his voice patter in submission, eyes lowered and some shoulders shaking. 

“So -” Mu starts again, frowning as he tries to make sense of the queer situation. 

His younger brother had a murderous gleam in his eyes when he turns to face him. So clenches his jaw and contains whatever less than polite words boiling inside him and drops the military tally into Mu’s outstretched hand. 

“Discipline your men - brother. Next time they indulge in vulgar conversations my patience might wear thin,” he sounds calm enough, but having dealt with other Yoos Mu knows control is but a thin layer of ice veiling a whirlpool beneath. He frowns again reflecting on the news he had to relay and wondering if he could have caught So on a worse mood. The exchange of military control was not the only thing he sought his brother to inform. Hesitantly the crown prince reaches out to grab his brother from the shoulder and leads him away from the grieved men and the pungent smell of blood in the air.  

The rain washed earth is muddy and littered with puddles. Weary yellowed grass struggle for sun beneath their feet. So remains rigid, taut and tense - Mu could almost fool himself into hearing the crunch of his gritting teeth. Silence is uncomfortable that the crown prince wishes if he had Ji Mong to defuse tension between them. But this rift is of his own doing and must be undone by his own efforts. 

“I am sorry,” he says in the end. “This happened because of my own incompetence. I failed to protect one of my allies. I - I should have known better than to extend my blunt good will where it would make her an enemy of other factions. I don’t deserve -” 

“She might never walk.” So cuts him off gruffly, his tone dry as sand. 

“I - I heard.”

“They twisted flesh off her legs, tore into bones and she hasn’t taken your name once.” He regards Mu with a heavy look. “I’m not the person you should take your excuses to - brother.”

“So…” swallowed Mu. “You are angry with me, brother.”

“Do I have a right to? I don’t think so. I’ve sold off the right to hold my own resentment towards you in exchange of her life. No, brother - I am no longer angry nor will I be - so please speak frankly, whatever it is that you want to inform me.”

“You are to leave tomorrow.” Mu begins, apart from a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth So makes no response. “…And ordered to limit the number of men to a dozen.” 

“Eight is enough. I know who I’m taking.”

“So - you need to take men from imperial garrison.”

“I have my own men thank you so much!” Snorts the prince, but then he catches the look on his older brother’s face. “Oh - fine, choose your own spies then. His majesty will be pleased if you do it for me. Paranoid as he is!” Mu sighs but says nothing. His expression if possible only darkens. “That’s not the worst part is it?”

“You said she can’t walk?” Mu says slowly, unwilling to part with the words on his tongue. He sees the dark realization etch across his brother’s features. “Imperial father wants you to take the land route, instead of sea. So - brother - I -”

“He wants her to die…” There is a murderous delirium in his eyes when he utters those words. For a moment Mu feels the beginnings of a frosting fear at the pit of his stomach. “Or he wants me to leave her behind…” So closes his eyes and presses them in with his fingers. Mu opens his mouth. “Don’t -” So warns him his eyes still closed. “Don’t talk to me brother - or I might say something treasonous.”

A moment passes in taut silence and Mu gathers his courage.

“Imperial father ‘s temper will mellow with time,” he says slowly. “And she is no longer in any danger of prosecution, you can just -”

“I hate how convincing you could sound,” So tells him bitterly. “And how easily you forget the hopes you give others.” Watching the sudden flicker of surprise on the crown prince’s face he grimaces. “When I was first sent to Shinju you said if I just behaved myself and waited - I will be summoned back to the palace in no time. You said it was only good boys who get sent to make others happy? Do you remember - brother? Or did you forget those words the moment they were spoken? Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m no longer mollified by sugar coated promises.”

“So -”

“You failed her once. I will not trust you with her again. I won’t leave her behind nor will I let her die,” He says finally, ending that long overdue conversation. “She’s the only thing that matters to me and I’d sell my soul to keep her.”

**

It doesn’t take a long while for the sky to come tumbling down. As usual it is his mother seeking a perverse pleasure in exploring his wounds that trigger the chaos. He should have known when he finds her chief court lady at the door to his residence, her blank and bloated face full of fake excitement. 

“Wangjanim!” She exclaims as he arrives, “her majesty - the imperial consort Yoo sends her congratulations -”

He barges in ignoring her pretentious speech and stops short and so does his breath. What he registers is the twisted pain on her stark white face, cracked lips pressed against a whimper as those tactless women makes her stand on those mangled legs. 

Perhaps someone is indeed fated to die at his hands. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” So demands as calmly as he could - grasping the ends of his slipping temper. The women jump at his voice, then stills, turns and bows - leaving her to sway on her unsteady feet. 

“Greetings, wangjanim! Your lady mother wishes to gift lady Hae with a wardrobe fit for a concubine as a congratulatory gift on her new status. We were send to -”

“Get out!” 

The courtlady that speaks, swallows her words and stares at him in wide - eyed panic. So could not care less, his worried eyes darting back to Soo and her face losing color with each passing moment. 

“Wangjanim -”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He is absently aware of the court ladies filing out with similar expressions of discontent as he reaches to steady her. Before he does however she collapses in a bundle of skirts with a sob.

“Soo!” Her hands are shaking when he grasps them and she looks up at him with accusatory eyes, pricking with tears. He freezes for a moment. “Soo - yah…” 

She slaps away his hands, swatting at them with disgust. 

“There’s blood on your hands.” She tells him coldly drawing his attention for the first time into his own peeled off hands, raw and bruised and dully aching. “You are not the man I thought you were.”

The fact that you are a good man is what matters to me. She had said once, her eyes open and honest, now they regard him with the coldness of an executioner, hollow as a ghost. He feels it in the pit of his heart, in the core of his being - the plunge of that accusation. 

He folds the hand she rejected into a fist, trying to hold himself from crumbling, or reaching out for her. 

“I can explain,” he says slowly. “Soo - yah, I didn’t have any other -”

“You knew,” she snaps. “You knew there will be poison in the tea - she told you.

So his mother had vested him with a congratulatory gift after all. So bites the inside of his cheek at the irony of that thought. The ladies might have been sent with specific instruction on how to pass the particular information. “You knew and still you let it happen...” Her eyes brim over and drain down her cheeks. “You let them torture me - You let lady Oh die! Had you said a word - a word - wangjanim, you’d have saved a life! Did you ever think about that? Did you ever regret? Or did you simply wait for your moment to step in and save the day?”

“You should lie down,” he tells her instead, hands around her hoisting her back to her feet. He feels the shudder of the groan that she bites back as she struggles away from him. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Soo - yah…” 

“Is it me? Am I the reason? Did you do this so that you could have me? How could you!” She shrieks the last of her words, hands clasping her head. “How could you let her die for me? How could you!”

He reaches out to grab her when she reels back, stumbling over her own unsteady feet. She struggles in vain tucked into his arms for a moment longer, clawing at him unsuccessfully. 

“Will you force me now?” her voice is muffled against him, choked by her own tears. His grip on her falters. She looks up at him, resigned and withdrawn. “Do it then, show me how wrong I’ve been to trust you despite everything. Show me how wrong I’ve been to think it’s only your face that is damaged. Make me regret ever knowing you - wangjanim - is that not what you want?”

For a moment his breath fans her face and something akin to fear slides down her spine. For a moment, she is staring at the man in those kingly robes in a vision washed red, or the man laughing hysterically drenched in his brother’s blood. That man of her nightmares. 

“You regret it?” His voice is a ghost of a whisper, hardly heard over the gasp of her own breathing. “You regret everything?” 

He sounds lost, as if she had snatched the ground beneath his feet. For a moment she wishes to pull back those words, replace them with different ones. But then, she hadn’t forgotten the wounds on her own soul. Those caused by the games of his mother - in which he had joined, to meet his own ends. To attain her. When she had been clear at setting their boundaries, even telling him that she never wished for his heart. For a moment back then, she had been foolish to think they could be friends. Unwittingly, she thinks of the eighth prince, how he simply walked away - had he been led to believe that she wanted this? Had he walked away because he believed she was now his brother’s woman?

“Yes.” She finds her voice. “Yes - I do.”

Lady Oh was right, she should have stayed away from the princes. 

He steps back as if she had burned him. It takes him a moment to mask the devastation blurring his face, he turns away from her instead. But she stares at him, frozen, shaken by how deep an effect her words leave on him. 

“Lie down,” he speaks after a long pause, his voice indifferent. “We are leaving tomorrow, you should rest your legs as much as possible - while you can.”

She doesn’t ask him where they are going, he notes after a painful silence. 

“Let me know if there is anything you want.”

“I want Chae Ryung,” she replies abruptly. “I refuse to relay on your help Wangjanim - I want to have my old maid brought to accompany me.”

“Fine,” he takes care not to show how hurtful he finds the notion that she would rather prefer a slave over him and before she could find more hurtful words to throw at him So leaves her, with the curtest nod he could manage. 

She deserves to hurt him for all the hurt he had caused. He tries and fails to swallow the bitterness left on his tongue. Regret - she regrets having met him, known him, helped him. She regrets it all. So finds it hard to breathe as he recalls the conviction with which she had spoken. As if she regretted each stroke of her brush that wiped away the taint on his name. Soo regretted that - saving him from his curse. 

And rightly so, for instead he had ruined her. He regretted it too. He regretted that he couldn’t turn back in time and stop her from touching him, from meddling herself into his cursed fate and the consequences that followed.

But, he thinks with a sigh. There were things he could do, penances he could undertake - no matter how in vain it was. 

As determined as he was broken, So picks up the crude mask from where it lies abandoned - thrown away in his delusional belief of becoming a new man. Nothing had changed. Nothing would. His curse was to hope that they will. His destiny was full of broken hopes and empty promises. 

He sighs and ties the mask around his head, a motion that was more reflex than conscious after countless cursed years. The mask was her regret. It would remind him what he lost as long as he shall live. 

Notes:

Oh Soo, the queen of misunderstandings, half realizations and won't - let - the - other - party - explain! I'm sure she will live to regret each word she had spoken when the truth and her own change of heart come knocking. :-)
And So, hold on till then will you? :-)
Thank you for reading, and giving the third chapter a try. Do share your thoughts with me, as I often tell you feedback means a world when drafting the next chapter. Let me know what you liked and what you didn't.
Stay safe! See you soon! :-)

Chapter 4: Ashes unscattered

Summary:

Untold secrets drag him down and unsaid farewells weigh on her mind.

Notes:

Get ready for a long read. Unedited - sorry!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sky is bruised and swollen with darkest of purple clouds. Mood of the man who strides in is no better. A lightening slashes the sky in half and Ji Mong shades his eyes against it. He turns away from the burst of electric light to face the masked prince. If the reappearance of the crude, dark thing that obscures his expression startles Ji Mong; he hides it expertly.  

“Wangjanim,” his bow is low and So notices that the older man takes effort to keep his curious gaze off his face. He is no longer certain if it pleases him or not, this reminder of the bane upon him and the bitterness that flows from the morning. 

“What have you found?” So keeps his voice curt and as indifferent as possible. The rough edge of the mask feels unfamiliar against his skin, as if he had not spent a life time caged beneath it - as if a few sunshine hours had erased all the acquired learning of tolerance. Unwillingly Ji Mong’s shifting eyes make him recall the time when he was compelled to unmask in front of his brothers and his stray thoughts effortlessly slip past a mentally imposed barrier towards her. He has to pull them back forcefully by squeezing his eyes shut. 

The atmosphere is stilted, pungent with the smell of decay and old blood. The rainy weather has ensured that there were torches burning during the day. There is a corpse laid out on the rough wooden table. Ji Mong clears his throat and approaches the body instead of meeting his gaze, gesturing the prince to follow. 

The smell grows stronger and overpowering but neither of them cares. Instead So notices the graying hue of the skin on a face that has begun to swell and the gaping hole at the throat where the fetal blow was made. 

“It was impossible to convince the senior court ladies -” Ji Mong mutters. “It is disgraceful to have the body submitted to be examined by a man - they would never -”

“Pity they don’t have qualms when their ladies are taken and tortured by men,” So mutters darkly. Ji Mong shifts and sighs. 

“Treason and suicide are different your highness,” he replies as if explaining to a particularly petulant child. “They no longer care for traitors as their own.”

“Oh? To end a life that belongs to his majesty is treason as well.” 

Ji Mong sighs resigned to his fated defeat. Wang So did not know that he had a gift with turning phrases, a way with words that would be appreciated in court politics if he ever sets his mind upon it. Perhaps Jin would help him see the world his father wished for him. Instead of voicing that thought the older man regards the prince with a careful look. 

“What is it that you are after - your highness? It is already scandalous enough to propose a coroner examination for a court lady who killed herself, but to brand her a traitor - one would wonder…”

“I’ve seen what I wanted to,” So cuts him off. Ji Mong with his suggestive tone and diplomatic accusations was making his head throb. He did not understand the greater good schemes the astrologer came up with, nor did he ever agree with the older man’s political philosophy of ‘ignore what you cannot change’ and he was yet to forget that the man had stood and watched as an innocent woman was accused and murdered because his father needed to save the neck of his heir.

Ji Mong folds his hands and looks at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation as if it is sure to follow. For a moment So toys with the idea of walking off on him, leaving the man to his unquenched curiosity. But then for having arranged this without raising an alarm Ji Mong has fulfilled his end of the bargain. So sighs, blaming himself for even considering this as fair play. 

“She didn’t kill herself,” he offers. “The angle and depth is wrong for a self inflicted injury. The wound is too narrow for a close range attack. Someone took here out with a throw - weapon…someone with a good aim.”
Darkly he thinks back to a chilly new year night, a dead assassin and a knife planted square between his brows. “Someone who cared enough to go into trouble of staging a suicide.”

He recalls the Gisaeng who came to him with the information. A blood stained sleeve embroidered with the tiger emblem of Hwangbos. Ji Mong may already know he had promised the woman a position in his household. She had a good knowledge in medicine and So was in need of her services anyway. Such woman who had means to unearth buried secrets of the royal family needs to be kept under watchful eye. 

He thinks uneasily of her twisted smile when he had made the offer, it had barely veiled her ulterior motives. For a moment So had to rethink his decision to trust this woman with Soo. But then, neither of them would be out of his observation. 

“Bear in mind -” he had told her, the threat barely concealed. “I care little for your reasons - hurt lady Hae and you won’t live to see a worse man than I am.” 

“You have someone in mind - your highness?” Ji Mong sounds innocently curious, a slight frown between his brows. But when their gazes meet the eager gleam in his eyes betrays him. So steps back shaking his head. His days of being a guard dog were done.

“I owe you nothing more - astronomer Choi. If you are curious, find out for yourself.”

**

Wang Wook flips the note he had received in the morning, written in the curt and brisk tone of his brother, with those sharp blade strokes of his penmenship - he wants Chae Ryung. The prince frowns, resisting an urge to crush the parchment where he cannot vent his frustration in any other way. With effort he lays it down upon other more pressing documents on his desk and rubs his forehead. He doesn’t feel like complying. 

He had spent most of his day glowering at the closed door of the library. Dark fury upon his face had spooked the servants to such a degree that no one had dared to enter to light the candles until he had to call out for them. The servant girl had scattered away a little while ago, carrying his order not to be disturbed again for the day - whatever the matter. So cannot order him around and expect him to comply. Just as his father seems to have done.

His frown, if possible deepens as he thinks of Soo. He hadn’t had the courage to write to her, lest the message gets intercepted and misinterpreted. But - whatever he had promised Yeon Hwa, he was yet to put her to the back of his mind. He had failed her - true - but he had saved her in his way. Given opportunity he would have healed the wound the court lady’s demise had left upon her. He would have - given opportunity. So stole that from him.

“Wangjanim!” Voices rise outside as the guards seemed to stir. “You cannot - wangjanim! Your highness -!”

The library door is torn open and the very subject of his dark thoughts strides in - a useless guard hurrying at tow. So does not seem to care that he is imposing upon his hospitality or that he had entered without permission. Instead he barges in and stands there looking at Wook rather coldly, as if waiting for him to rise and welcome him. Wook grits his teeth. The guard bows, shuddering. 

“Forgive me - my lord - but I -”

“Excuse him brother,” the fourth prince advises him lazily, “I have reason to believe you would not want our conversation to be overheard.”

Wook’s eyes narrow and he merely gestures the guard with his head. The man leaves shutting the door behind him. His expression is unchanged when he turns to So. 

“You believe we would have a conversation at all?” He asks then as rigidly as possible. He clenches his fist and looks away, trying to swallow the sudden burst of rage that threatens to overtake his good sense. “I do not wish to see you - So.”
”The feeling is mutual,” So tells him curtly. There is a bitter hint of anger to his tone. “Had you answered my massive in the morning, we shall not be inconveniencing each other.”

“I thought my answer was clear.”

“And I thought you’d like to think again -” So approaches him now and his tone drops, dangerously so. There is a feral sort of sneer curling into the corner of his mouth and for the first time Wook notices the re - appearance of the mask. “Delaying me on my journey would not serve you well - brother. I might get tempted to stick my nose in your business.”

His nails dig into his palm and probably draw blood, but Wook never removes his gaze from So. 

“Are you threatening me?”

“Is it working?”

“You bloody animal!” Wook growls, finally rising to his feet - loosing the reins on his control. “How dare you! What did you do with her? Where is Soo?”

For all his outburst, So remains cold. 

“As you had once wisely explained to me people of other households is not a concern of yours.”

For how casual he sounds, how haughty - Wook could have strangled him had he cared nothing for his family and the future of his clan. Instead he forces himself to breathe and remember all that matters. 

“Still, if you are curious - she is alive. In pain - yes, broken - yes, disappointed in you - probably, but not as much as she should be. Not as much as I am. For I knew you were a lot of things - brother, I did not take you for a traitor.”

“What did you say?” 

“You betrayed her - not just her but your lady mother as well. Tell me - Wang Wook since when did you join forces with consort Yoo?” Wook stares at him, at the fire in his eyes - his mind suddenly blank. How on earth… “You must have been laughing in your head when I asked you to clear her name. And you dare - you dare take her name with that tongue of yours? You dare - when you were the one to kill -”

“You’ve gone mad!”

“Would imperial father think so if I go to him now?”

Wook knows he had made a mistake when he fails to answer that snappish question. There is a serpent like gleam in So’s eyes, a dark triumph that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“Not very confident now - are you?” He asks sarcastically. “For all your claims - what is your priority?”

“You are threatening me.” Wook notes. 

“I am.”

“You wouldn’t dare…” 

“Oh you know me brother, there is precious little that I don’t dare.”

“It is too late now, Imperial father will not listen to your wild theories.”

“Perhaps - but if I speak a words spoken cannot be recalled. Their damage will not be undone.”

Wook exhales, but says nothing. 

“Chae Ryung. My party is leaving tomorrow at dawn.” His words are no longer a request. Wook feels the chill his presence leaves behind a long after Wang So is gone shutting the door to the falling dusk. The brother he had barely wasted a thought on had just stepped on his raw spot. The thought is like venom. 

“Wang So…” he mutters to himself, as if cursing the bearer of that name. “Wang so! Wang So!” The fragile ceramic pot of brushes that he throws against the door scatters into pieces. His fury remains. “WANG SO!”

**

Bluish fingers of dusky air crawls against her spine like cold spiders and Soo shudders. The pain throbbing like the torturer’s hot iron rods, sizzle against each of her nerve ends, making her eyes prick with hot tears of frustration and her soul twist in the agony of humiliation. Each step feels like tearing open a new gash. Her heart thuds painfully. Each step makes her lungs burn with effort. It hurts - it hurts like hell. 

But she would not get a chance again. She thinks, determined. She would not turn back. It was a miracle that he had not left guards posted at her door - and that none of the court ladies of the prince residence stopped her. It was a miracle that she managed to make it so far. 

She had to see him. Her prince. She had to see him and tell him the truth. Even if it is the last time she ever sees him. They simply cannot end in such a way. 

The candle light of the prayer towers is soft and hauntingly cold. There is no way of sending him a word. All she could hope for was that he hasn’t forgotten his tradition of coming there every night to pray for her departed cousin’s afterlife. He has promised he would never stop - he was a better man than to allow misfortune to break his resolve. She is certain - he would come. 

But as the bleeding sun disappears and the stars begins to pop she is not so certain anymore. It is then that her tears brim over and fall, the night air stinging against her raw skin and burning through her bones - that fierce hope is waning. 

She finds it bitter to admit that she is wrong. Missing him feels like a gaping hole where her heart is supposed to beat. Soo struggles to catch her breath and just to will away the time starts to build a prayer of her own. It is juvenile of her, perhaps cowardice too - that she cannot bring herself to return to the prince’s residence - cannot face him, after their argument in the morning. She hadn’t seen him since. 

A tiny part of her cringes at the words she had spoken. Those scathing accusations. She shudders recalling the look in his eyes - that utter pain which crossed his face and guilt is a knot in her throat that she cannot swallow. 

Forgive me - she thinks, piling a stone atop another and then she wonders why it made her feel so devastated. She was angry with what he had done. But then - she hadn’t forgotten how devotedly he had tended to her. He was wrong but he was there. And I chased him away. That man who drank poison for me.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” As if conjured from her thoughts his voice startles her. Rising in alarm Soo trips on her own protesting feet and stumbles into his arms. She closes her eyes at the agony that flares through her and her mouth opens in a silent cry. And So has to catch his breath. He catches her reflexively, a hand splayed at her back and an arm around her waist. Her wide eyes reflect him - glossy and out of context, the pain upon her face softening away as he continues to rub her back unconsciously. Beautiful - he thinks unwittingly. 

She tries to pull away, grimacing at the pain it stirs and So tightens his hold. 

“Stay still.” 

Then without a warning he lifts her off her feet and carries her to the stairs, depositing her on the stones gently. Despite her earlier musings, Soo finds herself drowning in the pounding of her heart. There is a charged contrast in the heat his body provides and the chilly night air. A contrast that is only highlighted by the awareness she feels wherever his hands brush against her. He steps back as soon as he is done, eyes narrowed and mouth pressed in displeasure. 

“What are you doing here?” He demands. 

She looks away, furious with her own tangled thoughts. 

“I was praying.” She moves to get up only to find his hand on her shoulder, pushing her down firmly. He thinks of her as cattle, she thinks darkly, to be moved and controlled as he pleases. “Let me finish!”

“I will do it,” he says unexpectedly and gruffly squats down at her feet, gathering the scattered flat stones to demonstrate his intention. “Pray all you want.”

She is speechless for a moment and watches as he fumbles with the stones. His hands are still raw with the scratches she had noticed in the morning, his knuckles bruised - but his fingers are elegant, long and knotted. He stacks the stones with too much concentration, a slight frown between his brows. They wobble and he has to continue, she watches, worrying at her lower lip and is startled when his gaze flickers up at her abruptly. “Pray!” He says. 

“Did you get your hands treated?” She asks suddenly. He stills at the abrupt question and then shrugs. 

“It is of no matter.”

“Wangjanim -” her voice shivers and dies before she finds words for her thought - regret, she finds is harder to word than sorrow. “Did you hurt someone?” She asks instead.

He looks at her, his eyes hard to decipher and nods curtly.  

“I pray you stop doing that,” she says then. She hadn’t realized it till the words had left her mouth, that she had somehow during the course of that day resigned to her fate. She had come to bid her love farewell - not to beg him to save her. Perhaps, if he wanted her so, Wang So might listen to her. Perhaps, that was her calling - to sacrifice herself before many would fall under his blade. Perhaps at the cost of her heart, she could change him. “It is painful to think my life is in blood stained hands. I pray -”

“Your life is yours - Soo - yah,” he speaks in such a soft tone that she wonders if she had imagined it. “My hands will not taint you.”

He looks at her stunned expression and smiles bitterly. 

“Don’t look at me like a deer in a snare. If I could set you free I would. But I cannot lose you. Damn me in your prayers - but I cannot let you die.”

“Wangjanim -”

“Come -” he rises to his feet, holding out a hand for her to climb to her feet as well. “I will carry you home.”

He lowers himself so that she could climb on his back but she doesn’t move for a long moment. Home - he says. She feels as if the very air is strangling her, clenching her heart in a fist so tight. Home - he says. As if she had any choice in the matter. I cannot let you die - he says, as if she was living now. Damn me - he says as if she was anything more than a bone his father had thrown at him. 

Her tears run scalding tracks down her cheeks, unchecked and unattended. Her hands tremble when she clasps them around his neck and he lifts her, as they set off. Those gentle hands around her ankles could very well have been iron jaws of a trap. She presses her wet cheek against the side of his throat and sighs, resigned - defeated without a battle. 

“You are running a fever did you know that?” He inquires, his voice troubled. 

“Let me go,” she mumbles mutely. “Please - please - please…”

“Soo -yah?”

The darkness is pressing her and drowning her in wave after wave of rippling pain. Even though she had not seen the eighth prince it feels like a heartbreaking goodbye. As if this was the closest she would ever be to him - at the boarder of his estate and they were going further and further with each step the fourth prince carries her. He had thrown her away, walked away from her - and now - unwillingly she is taken away from him. 

"I love him," she mutters unwittingly. "Please - I beg you. Please let me go. Let me see him once - one last time..."

Her head lolls heavy on his shoulder as she mutely prays through clattering teeth. He doesn't hear - or he doesn't care. The fourth prince never stops. 

Notes:

I wrote this chapter twice - once lost it to a whim of my PC and then had to recreate from the scratch. I humbly apologise for the long wait...it was unintentional.
Do share your thoughts and let me know if you loved the progress of the story or not. I hope the long wait hasn't made you lose interest. Thank you for the excitement you showed for the chapters before, the responses and feedback had me going even when I felt so down and at the brink of giving up. :-)
Thank you for reading! Stay safe - take care!:-):-)

Chapter 5: Puppet Prince - I

Summary:

He was never content to dance and return to the box; or in which Yo starts to lay out his own game.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Guard towers are no place for a prince during the rainy season. Wind a blast of ice and the fires in burners barely a pinch of warmth against the skin, Wang Yo knows he would not be found here. Even if he was missed at the residence, or in case one of his wives takes the pains to search for him - they would not imagine him to be tucked into one of the freezing towers, ducked against the wind and scowling at the bruised purple skies. Rains brought by that cursed dog was yet to cease and Yo hadn’t felt dry in a long time. 

He reads the missive in the weak firelight of the burner and feeds the flames with the crumpled paper, the creases between his brows smoothing off. He had always made it a point to place his pawns everywhere in the board. Now with that former princess finally placed at his new found rival’s household things had settled to his liking, the game folding back into his palm. 

Many would think of him a puppet to his mother, Yo had often found the notion uncomfortable. His mother was a woman who took pleasure in pulling strings, watching her words being obeyed. She was a woman not to be crossed or displeased - but Yo had no intentions of dancing to her tunes and going silently back to his box once the act was over. He had been serving his own interests when he kept an eye out for his mother’s schemes and often tabs on his fast growing half sister - Yeon Hwa. 

He has no interest in So’s new pet - no more than the purpose she would serve as a lash for the dog. But He had much interest in the ploy that had her cornered and exactly what part his mother and his half sister played in bringing upon that doom. The efforts had been well rewarding, he thinks inhaling deeply the rain - washed chill of the dawn. He had found the bait that could fish him an unthinkably useful ally.

His lips twist at the thought, dark amusement flickering in his cold eyes. Wook - who would have thought - surely not So - he muses - if his reaction to the blood stained robe was anything to go by . Yo is starting to realize the appeal his mother had in making others dance while she watched from sidelines. It is indeed amusing to watch how a little push could set things in motion. And just how fragile the bond between his brothers was. 

He watches as the first few guards of his fourth brother’s retinue arrived at the city gate - closely followed by more horses, the litter of his new concubine and then - 

The woman wearing a white hood over her travel gear is as recognizable as a beacon in the blush haze of dawn. The pawn he had placed. Unconsciously, Yo leans forward and places his hands on the wooden banisters to watch as his spy follows after the little party riding out of the city gate. 

“Do you know why opium is so dangerous?” He had asked her the last time they met. After the blood stained robe stitched with his eighth brother’s insignia had reached the hands of his fourth brother. “Because it soothes until it doesn’t - until it kills. It’s a beautiful ruin - that makes one crave the ending.”

“You wish for me to be the opium in your brother’s household?” She summarizes with ease, with a fallen royal house’s pride holding up her chin. That unbreakable haughtiness is what draws him in. The words at the tip of his mouth to tell her that she is opium without trying and he was dangerously close to toppling into an addiction - but he does not. Yo has a dangerous tendency of craving vicious things - forbidden - decadent things - one was his half sister and the other - 

Woo Hee of the fallen dynasty of Hubaekje halts for one fleeting moment at the city gate, as if aware of his eyes following her from far, her shoulders squared and her head held temptingly high. She turns a fraction and looks to his direction - a bare whisper of a movement that nobody could have noticed - she bends forward to pat her mount and then she is gone leaving no trace of any foul play. 

A pawn well placed. 

**

“Where am I?” She demands feverishly, large eyes empty and distant. The foolish woman had only worsened her injuries with her witless pursuits and her condition had declined over the next few rainy days. Woo Hee cleans those wounds, trying and failing to ignore the pallor of death cast over her face, and wraps them in fresh bandages. 

The prince never leaves her side. He reminds her of a large, brooding owl, with its wings folded around the lady - watching Woo Hee with a perpetual dark suspicion. In the rare icy moments when their eyes happen to meet, Woo Hee wonders if he knows the truth - or if he has noticed that thoughtless moment at the city gate when her instinct had halted her for a bare second. The fourth prince was far more astute than what his third brother gave him credit for. Woo Hee would not be surprised if he had read more into her lapses than she would have thought possible. 

So she tries, with all the charm and wit and courage she could muster, she tries to play the perfectly loyal caregiver that she had sworn to be. Only the task itself seems to be a vain pursuit. She wipes that gray face, skin aflame and cracked lips mumbling softly and tries to hold on to her failing hope. If the lady dies - there ends Woo Hee’s usefulness to the prince. There ends her path to serve her people. Her hand trembles and the prince gives her a narrow eyed look. Before holding out a hand. 

“I will do it,” he says. “You may leave.”

She hesitates for a moment but complies in the next. However her task has never been to mutely leave. She does leave his sight, but they never leave hers. Woo Hee watches from the shadows as the prince fawns over his dying lover. Those brutal hands of his gentle as they glide over her hair. The fourth prince has beautiful hands, she thinks absentmindedly. Such hands do not suit a killer. 

“Don’t go,” he implores, his voice low and reverent. “Please,” he mutters, one of her hands clasped between both of his. It occurs to Woo Hee that she had never seen him praying, or perhaps she was seeing now, with his head bowed over their clasped hands. Her heart clenches uncomfortably at the sight, even though she was certain that she had no compassion for the sons of that damned emperor - even though she knew that man was a brute and a killer. There was something so familiar about his fear, about his loss, that made her own eyes prick with unease. “Please not her - not her too...”

Woo Hee squeezes her own eyes shut and turns away, cringing at the broken note of his voice. He deserves that moment, she a spy had no place in it. It is just then that Soo blinks her eyes open and so Woo Hee is startled when she hears the croaked gasp that escapes her lips. 

“Wangjanim?”

So presses his mouth to each of her knuckles in reply, reverently as if each were a holy grail.

“I’m dying - aren’t I?” Her voice breaks, shudders and is barely coherent. “It hurts - I - I won’t see him again. Will I?”

He brushes the sweaty hair off her forehead and allows his hand to linger, but he doesn’t reply. Woo Hee frowns a little, he should tell her, he should. She thinks bitterly and a little defensive of the man she was supposed to spy on. He had written to that brother of his, they had delayed moving from this inn so he could find them - Woo Hee could not imagine anything else to be done. That lover of hers was not coming. 

“Am I being punished?” She asks then, several beats later. “I betrayed her - didn’t I? I - she treated me liked a daughter, she was so good to me and I - I couldn’t keep my heart in check. I - I hurt her, she must have hurt so much. Did she die because of me? Because I broke her heart?” 

So wipes away those burning tears trailing down her face, and presses his own forehead to hers. He’d have given anything to stop her from cursing herself, from lamenting for those youthful missteps, he’d have given anything to take it all - the guilt and pain, if only it was possible. 

“Oh I used to hate them,” she continues. “That friend of mine and that man - I hated them so much for betraying me. But then, didn’t I do the same? Am I any better?”

“Shh,” he tries to sooth, tries in vain. His lips pressed to her temple, hands cradling her head against his heart.

“You shouldn’t have saved me,” she says slowly. “You wouldn’t have - if you knew what I’d done. You wouldn’t -” her eyes find his and peers into them, blindly seeking. “You wouldn’t have wanted to see me again.”

“It’s not so, it’s not,” he tells her helplessly, those words he press into her hair. 

“I’m dying,” she repeats, sinking into his embrace. “That’s why you lie.”

“I’m not lying,” he promises, stroking her hair, muttering into her ear. “We shall not lie to each other.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and takes his hand with a trembling one of her own. “I was afraid - I didn’t hate you, I never did. I was afraid. I -”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. It’s over now.”

“I was afraid you’d kill them. I’ve seen you - I thought you would - I’m sorry,” she confesses and leans her head on his shoulder, her face clenched in pain. “Does it hurt to die?”

“You won’t die - love ,” he mutters the endearment against her throat where her pulse flutters weakly. He hopes and he prays that he speaks the truth. “You won’t die.”

“Stay,” she requests already drowning into ripples of unconsciousness. “I’m scared. Stay - I’m scared to drown. It’s cold. Hold me - don’t let me drown...”

Her voice trails off and the last of her tears hang heavy from her closed lashes. 

“Will she last the night?” He asks abruptly, in a thick voice. It jerks Woo Hee out of her corner in shadows and she wonders belatedly if he had known from the beginning. “Will she?”

Woo Hee tries to gather her wits and tilts her head. 

“Keep her warm,” she says. “Some lives are saved by prayers.”

Notes:

Puppet prince - II will follow.
My days have turned into heavy labour. I can only dream of those days when I used to do back to back updates.
Sigh.
Share your thoughts, I'm worried since I took so long to update if you've forgotten this story altogether. So drop by and let me know you are there.
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Chapter 6: Puppet Prince - II

Summary:

Tide after tide of death hasn't stopped him from building sandcastles. Or in which So allows the fate to rule him as he tries to build on a fragile hope.

Notes:

Here is the second part as promised.
*historically inaccurate*

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Her grip never falters, it is his heart that does. Every time she sinks with an exhale his heart falters a beat and waits in cold anticipation for her ribcage to rise again. One breath, to the next, the next and the next. His gaze never leaves her face. 

Death is a taste that he knows. The sting of loss, he has suffered and healed from. Still, his fingers clasped around hers tremble. So no longer feels like the man who had killed wolves with his bare hands, he feels like the boy under his mother’s knife, the crawling - crying, discarded child from yore, waiting for another piece of himself to be stolen. Just like then, when the edge of a cold blade pressed against him by the woman who had once promised him the world, So finds himself frozen numb. He knows what is coming, but he cannot move - he cannot turn away, not watch, not think, not feel the life draining out of her.

So he watches. So he waits. Holding her, like a faith he never had. 

“Wangjanim,” there is a voice from the doorway. One of the guards Mu had chosen to accompany them stands there, head bowed and cautious, unwilling to enter. “There is an urgent missive -”

“Not tonight,” he answers distractedly, unwilling to shift his gaze from Soo’s face. “Leave us alone.”

There is a pause and the soldier shifts uncomfortably, unmoving from where he positions himself in the shadows. So sighs after a moment, clenching his fist. He feels bitter about the men his older brother had placed around him, those hawk eyed - strangers keeping eye so that he would toe the line - the strings that his father uses to make him dance to his tunes. He turns finally, tearing his eyes from her white face to scowl at the young man. The full potential of his dark gaze makes the young soldier stumble, he looks rather pale as he speaks. 

“The messenger wouldn’t leave unless you see him my lord,” he says pleadingly. “Says -says the letter is only for the eyes of Wang Gyeon’s son.” The man lowers his tone into a reverent whisper as he takes his emperor’s personal name, out of helplessness. When the fourth prince rises, the soldier almost trips on his feet in fear, for he has committed the sin of calling the emperor’s name in the presence of one of his sons - perhaps the most cruel of them all. But So is not interested in him. 

His shoulders hunched as if there is an invisible burden upon them the fourth prince walks to him. 

“Lead the way,” he says darkly. 

**

He is too young, the Prince Rui ends up thinking. Those words that had always angered him, made him scream at the advisers of his imperial father, the words that he hated the most in the world - come to him in the darkest moment of his life. 

He is too young - too young to die. 

Now that the ground is wet and freezing beneath him, the world fallen into the hum of his own racing pulse the prince - soon to be ten - finds solace in the words he hated. He is too young to die. But perhaps it isn’t the wisest decision to run out into the night - not when he has no idea where he is - or whether this is still the lands of his imperial father or not. 

For the first time in his life, the young prince understands what it means to be young. The sky above him is unfamiliar, the flora stranger, even the scent in the wind is of unknown. Rui shivers, wrapping his arms around himself once he had propped himself up to a seating position, he feels small, and sinking fast in the landscape that seems to swell until it finally swallows him. 

His imperial father was far gone, in preparation of a battle they say. Rui had caught snippets of discussions from the council, the advisers advocating for and against the war, about a general - some lord of a principality who had rebelled. He had not understood much, until his father had left to take part in battle in person. 

Leaving him in the care of councilor Feng under the authority of his adopted brother - Prince Qi. That had been several weeks ago. He was still furious with his adoptive brother for ignoring him like all the grown ups do, but right now, half frozen and half burning with agitation he’d rather have his indifference and the warmth of his feathery sheets instead of this murky earth in the middle of nowhere - with assassins on his trail. 

Rui takes a careful breath, a hand clasped against his mouth to quieten the sound. He cannot be found. His stomach churns at the scent of blood. He had forgotten he still wore the blood of his dead guards - the reminder, with it the brutal images of the men cut down like some obscene crop - makes his insides crawl. 

His heart leaps to his throat and gets stuck there, cutting off his air for one cursed moment. They were coming. When he tries to move his foot - the twisted thing that he had fallen on - the pain that shoots through him almost tempts a scream from him. He has to clasp both his hands on his mouth to keep the strangled moan from escaping. The tall grass hide him for the time being, but Rui is no baby - he knows that he could not linger in one place. And the grass is the worst keeper of secrets, it gives away the barest of movements with a rustle that echos in the dead of the night and the weightless leaves waving as if to scream - here! Here!

He tries to remember what the martial arts master back in the palace had instructed and tries to be very still as he drags himself backwards, through the tall grass without disturbing them - but as fast as he could master. Perhaps if he could see Rui now - his brother who thought he was of no good, would have been proud. 

As the footfall draws closer, he tries to gather speed. The undergrowth that is thorny and unkempt scratches against his arms and stones beneath his palms begins to cut. His teeth sink into his lower lip, keeping any sound of pain from escaping. He will not prove them he still was the crybaby that everyone accused him of being - no - he would prove them wrong. 

He would find his own way out of this unknown place and would show everyone, every single one of them, that he too was a young warrior in making. 

The thought cheers him up considerably that he quickens his pace - but then - something hard slams against his back. 

“There you are little thimble,” a gruff voice remarks from above. twisting his neck Rui notices that it is the Red - Beard, from before, the man who had ordered the guards to be killed and had hit him across the head and the scream finally erupts from his throat. 

The Red - Beard scoops him up, iron like hands clasping around his shoulders to hoist him. The man smells of stale mead and old blood - the gaps in his yellowish teeth meaning at him when he holds Rui to face - level. 

“Found the brat!” The man screams over his shoulder, probably to his band of goons and fans his face with that foul smelling breath. “Lord An will be happy.”
Rui tries to kick his chest with his better leg, his legs swinging in the air as the man hangs him from the collar. He is like a giant from those stories his Nanny read every night - a man who could pick him up with his thumb and forefinger. His kicks make no difference to him - the man merely grants. 

The tall wind rustles around them, perhaps his goons had heard him. 

“You run fast my prince,” the man sneers. “But then where to go? I found him!” He shouts the last again. “Xiao Shu, Xiao Li we must withdraw immediately -”

But then the Red - Beard stops abruptly and drops Rui to ground unexpectedly. The prince falls with a thud and a painful yelp. This time his twisted leg definitely cracks underneath his weight. 

“Xiao Shu?” 

There is no reply other than the loud hum of wind in the tall grass. The Red - Beard strokes the large sword hanging from his waist absentmindedly, looking around him, suddenly like a panicked overgrown deer. Had he not been in so much pain, Rui would have laughed at his expression. 

It is then that he hears what had made the man drop him so abruptly. In the dead of the night, partly drowned in the hum of the wind, he could hear the unmistakable slash of a blade against flesh. 

**

Survival is ingrained to him like the very breath that burns in his lungs with greed for life. So knows that if he is to wait and watch death take her, inaction itself would strangle him. So instead he rides out to the night, once sleep had claimed her and her breathing had eased. The missive had given him the reason he was waiting for.  

The rain washed air that carries the scent of wet earth slaps against him, trying to claw off the worries of the day, the weariness off his bones, the ground beneath the hooves of his mount. He allows the last and the speed, stealing the next breath and setting his heart to race with the need of blood, settles his nerves a little. 

He doesn’t forget her, doesn’t forget that unfocused look, doesn’t forget the question he has no answer for. She might not last the night. So tries to hold it in, that need to break down. But even the frosty air, cannot numb him where his heart is raw and throbbing. There is a scream tied to his throat, blocking his air and the thought of losing her stings in his eyes. He blinks it away, trying to focus through a blurred vision. 

He might be a coward for running away, but he knows that he could not survive the moment life fades from her. Coward or not, So knew his limits. Instead he tries to focus on the matter at hand and tries to forget the darkness waiting to overtake him with guilt, self loathing and longing. He would grieve her when it comes to pass - not a moment before. But if she was to survive, if for some reason the heavens decide to take mercy on him just this once, he had to make sure she is not lost to the schemes of his father. Living from one tide of death to another had taught him how to built sandcastles that doesn’t get washed off with the next tide. 

So draws in a shuddered breath and pulls at the reins, pulling his mount into a canter as he surveys his surrounding. Despite the late hour he recognizes his surrounding well enough and by the time he dismounts he knows clearly which route to take through the overgrown grass and dump thorny forest creeping out to overtake the civilization. 

The missive had been precise and the spies tireless that he knew exactly where the slave hunters sat their camp for the night. The uncouth men hurdled around a rundown shed that sold stale beer would hardly pass on as dangerous. But they talk a foreign tongue, deal in silver that tinkled between their fingers and leered displaying crooked, brownish teeth. Those men smuggled in people. Plucking unassuming women and children, mostly war prisoners and taking them from their roots to places where they would fetch the biggest price - those mongers lurked between nations, from the dirtiest slums to the riches of princes. But it was not a slave that he looked for. 

For So knew this bunch of slave hunters had recently came across a fortune. He was interested in finding out where it was hidden. 

The men noted him doubtfully when he entered the shed. The pungent smell of stale beer gave away their hideout from a mile. He walked past them without paying attention - a weary traveller in the dead of the night, and lounged at a table all by himself nursing a tankard of stale beer. 

They watch him darkly for a moment longer and realizing that they’ve been ignored, the men returns to their drinks and conversations, believing that none in the vicinity understood their tongue. 

“When would the next payment come?” Asks the stoutest of four, a beefy man with drooping, drunken eyes. “How long shall we wait here?”

“The forces have moved out,” a leaner man with a scar running the length of his throat replies. “We’re the only thing that keeps the Lord alive.” He says it with a haughty leer, a gleam of greed in his eyes. “Imagine the coins it would fetch us, once the prefecture is won.”

“It better be soon…” moans the stout man. “This country is no good. These wildness is no good. Only mud and rain and chickens! We better get selling permits from the Lord once he wins, for all the efforts - all the blisters -” 

“And bites!” Pips up another, who was silent until then. He drags off his sleeve to display his forearm, where clearly someone had bitten him. The scars were still raw and red, if not bloody. “That devil spawn has teeth of a tiger!”

The leaner man, who So guesses is the leader of the four, pulls his sleeve down rather forcefully. 

“Not here Huo,” he says. “We must get back now.”

“I say, Xiao Li, let’s leave the brat to starve - for all the trouble he makes…”

“And what shall we tell Lord An?” Demands Li shaking his head. “Get up, Huo.”

But before they sort our their disagreement another of their number comes running, a hand clasped over a swollen eye. 

“He’s gone! He’s gone! The brat has escaped!”

The men rise at once in chaos, blaming and cursing ans swaying on their feet - they follow the bringer of news as they makes exclamations of brats and devils and spoiled chances of making better lives. 

It is after the last of them had gone that So rises to his feet. He knows what he has to do, what his father expects him to do. The realization that he was still very much the hunt dog who would sink its teeth into whoever the master points out, makes fury bubble inside him. This was why he was sent for this - why him, not any other of his brothers - would go to Jin. Because they want a killer by the side of the foreign prince. 

But then, he is under no delusion. So knows that he would do it, he would do it with no second thoughts. He had done it before - killed for the sake of his mother, tainted his soul beyond redemption. He would do it again, for Soo - knowing full well - now that he heard it in her own words that he would not be loved in return of it all. He would still do it, if it gives him a way to keep her from dying. 

The prince is their key to Jin - to survival. 

**

Yo finds it amusing that his eighth brother thinks he could hide from him. He has but to wish Wook to be found and no closed door or trope of servants could stop him. Now that he sits beside Yeon Hwa, one of her soft hands loosely clutched in his - as he contemplates what stone would suit her fingers best - it is only natural that his eighth brother finally has to make himself known. 

“Wook,” he says lazily, barely lifting his eyes from Yeon Hwa. “I thought you were indisposed. Is that not what you ordered your scribe to write back to whoever that corresponds?”

Yeon Hwa snatches back her hand, rising in greeting for her brother. A corner of Yo’s mouth lifts. 

“I was remarking - how fond my mother is of your sister. But then, that is not really a news to you is it?” He takes joy in seeing Wook clench his fist, seeing the dark look of loathing that flashes across his eyes when they rest upon his full blooded sister. But it is nothing compared to the venom with which he regards Yo. 

“It is you,” he says slowly. “You told So.”

“So?” Yo lifts an eyebrow. “My fourth brother and I don’t actually chat that very often. I’m sure you know.”

“Out!” Wook snaps at Yeon Hwa. 

“I don’t see the point,” Yo objects mildly. “Aren’t we all keepers of each other’s secrets here?”
”You are not welcome here - third brother,” Wook tells him, trying to sound calm when it is apparent that he is seething. “Nor is your intentions.”

“Pity,” Yo tells him, rising. “I thought I’d enjoy having you on my side - dear brother - with your head on your shoulders. But perhaps, you leave me no choice but to allow our father to remove it…” He turns slowly, his eyes fixing upon a pale Yeon Hwa. “And you my dear, perhaps this is the last we see of each other before you are wed to the furthest our father could manage - would it be Khitan?”

“Orabeoni,” Yeon Hwa snaps and it is beautiful when she is winded. Yo enjoys the effect of his words on her face before she plays the notes he had tuned her to. “Listen to him. We - our goals are similar.”

Bless her - she never says our goals are same. But as Wook catches her eye and doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Yo knows he had finally found the string that moves him - that formidable eighth brother of his - finally a pawn to his calling. 

**

The Prince Rui thinks it’s a ghost, some demonic lord that roams the night perhaps - for no man, no real man could have moved so swiftly, and no blade - no mortal blade could cut so devastatingly. The chill that settles over him is half of awe and half of terror. The man moves like the night itself, fast and lethal yet so graceful in his dance of death. 

The Red - Beard would not have stood a chance, even if he wasn’t as terrified as he was. The larger, brute of a man misses his chance when the warrior glides past him, his knees bent and sword tucked in, unleashing only when he had slid through the reach of the Red - Beard’s arms and placed well enough to sink his blade into the soft flesh where his ribs end. The Red - Beard collapses with terror frozen on his face and the demonic thing that had killed him - rises - sword bared - drenched in blood - he turns on his heel and looks at him. 

Rui finds he could no longer scream. He only folds himself the smallest he could manage and watches, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. If this man was death itself - even then - he could not have been more terribly beautiful. 

“Am I dead?” He asks in the end, “You are the god of death right?”

His voice stutters, breaks and falls into the barest of whispers. The man comes to squat down beside him, looking him over with concerned eyes. Closer, he looks more human - half of his face still hidden in the night and the other half coated in fresh blood. Rui feels like retching at the scent of blood but he holds it in with effort. “Who are you -?” he asks.

“The man who would take you to your father.”

Notes:

The Prince Rui is inspired from Shi Chongrui. The youngest son of later Jin's first emperor.
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Chapter 7: Monster's blood

Summary:

Monsters aren't born but made and their blood is still warm.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The boy, small, white and shaking with blood splattered over him makes So pause and inhale a torturous breath. It feels like a knife to the gut this cruel hand fate had dealt him. The boy - prince Rui - looks so much like a ghost of his childhood self, uprooted from the life he had known and discarded into the wildness to survive wolves and foxes, some wearing fur while some wore skin of men. 

The boy eyes him with terror - distrust that he should not have learned at his age - and poorly concealed fascination. 

“Who are you?” He asks, terrified yet enticed. 

He wishes to run further away from the boy, from all the reminders of his mother’s blade on his face - from blood that he is made to spill in the name of those he loves, but instead, he squats down to look at the boy in the eye. 

“The man who would take you to your father,” he says, simple enough it is all the boy has to know. The boy looks at him curiously, weighing his words against the events of the night - So wishes the child to be less transparent. He knows that feeling, the fear of trusting, the fear of reaching out again only to be pushed away. That mad concubine who was supposed to be his new mother had taught him enough of false hope. 

So sheathes his blade automatically, clumsily wiping the blood on his hands against on his knees. He has never been good with children, but perhaps he knows what he needed then - what he needed yet. He holds out a hand for the fallen prince - a clean hand, despite all the blood it had drawn. 

“Come,” he says, gruffly, trying and failing to sound any smoother. “Co -”

The blade comes so unexpectedly - now that his thoughts are muddled with recollections of his own past and observations of the child - he had let down his guard almost foolishly. The man he had guttered had used that last of his strength to throw that knife at him. The pain is immediate, crippling and burning staring from his shoulder. It is not the refined warrior in him but the animal that responds, almost instinctively reaching to pull the blade from the bloody depth it sank into with a growl. A stream of hot blood drips down his arm - and he throws back the bloodied knife as he turns, the blade with no master finding the heart of it’s owner with a satisfyingly wet plunge. 

He stumbles however, the burning of his arm intensifying. It is the boy that holds him, small but sturdy hands coming to clench fist fulls of cloth from his shoulders. 

“Young Master - Lord -” the boy stumbles for words. He draws in a breath and stops when So looks at him. “You are hurt!”

So grunts placing a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady himself as he slowly pushes his body upright onto his feet. His fingers are numb, he has to clench and unclench his fist before finding his words. 

“We must leave.”

“Young master -”

“Do you know how to ride?” He asks the boy instead, gripping his shoulder and pulling him towards where he left off his mount as he did so. The boy seems hesitant for a moment before nodding. But then, he stills on his tracks. “Not that big a beast …” he says, “I’ve never -”

So shakes his head and bites back a groan of pain as he swiftly lifts the boy onto the horse. 

“Just hold the reins for me,” he says. 

“Young master you need -”

“I must go to my wife,” So tells him and reminds himself. “I must.”

**

One moment she is drowning, Soo finds herself struggling for breath, and the next she is standing in one of her red tinted visions. The visage is vaguely familiar as if a reply of an old nightmare. She knows she had seen it before - those blurred remains of events that is yet to come - but she cannot place them, cannot remember when she had seen them. 

She watches the life - less body of Goryeo’s first emperor, being covered with his imperial robe - watches the ripples of the lavish pool in damiwon the water no longer inviting and lovely, but deadly and poisonous - a teacup shatters at her feet and another king falls - then the terrible bloody monarch dressed in his dark robes climbs the steps leading to main palace - then when she finds her breath hitching, her lungs burning - it replays backwards. Though she waits in terrified anticipation she doesn’t see Eun being struck down by his brother. 

Instead she sees a different boy in his tender years - with blood smudged on his face and splattered on his clothes. A sword too heavy for him clenched in his trembling hands - as he stumbles backwards, mouth agape in silent horror. A dark shadow rises above him, over him - rising a blade -  

Her eyes snap open and Soo stares at the darkness, her heart racing painfully, her skin clammy with sweat. She is vaguely aware of the bluish tint of dawn and the unfamiliar silhouettes of her surroundings. There is a feverish dryness to her throat, a deep seated ache in her bones. The pain brings tears to her eyes but she’s never been more awake. 

But she has never been more doubtful of her consciousness either. For in front of her, standing at the doorway, is the boy from her dream. The same white face, smudged with blood and mouth agape in horror. Soo sits up unconsciously, staring - wincing at her own pain. 

“Lady,” he says. “Quick!”

It takes her a moment to understand him, for his words are thick, entangled as if he had difficultly in remembering them. The boy spoke with a foreign accent. Before she had scrambled to her feet, swaying, stumbling, unsteady and weak as she was the boy had vanished from the doorway. Soo does what her nightmare ridden brain compels her to - she follows the sound of his feet, shuffling through the darkness. 

There is indeed a dark shadow at the very end of the hallway and the boy is bounding towards it - Soo feels her throat go dry - the claws of her nightmare scratching at her. 

“No!” She calls out, without rhyme or reason and tries to hurry. 

The lines of the shadow fills in and she sees the cascading hair and the dripping sword and swallows. Why the child? She thinks - please, please not the child. 

She screams when he turns, when she sees the blood he wears. She screams at the child to stop - to run - but to no avail. Either the boy does not hear, or he does not understand. Her voice dries up as his eyes lands on her and he moves - not towards the child - no - but towards her. 

Soo stumbles backwards in grip of terror, still raw from her nightmares she could see the darkness swimming in the depth of his eyes and the stench of blood - so strong that it makes her stomach churn. 

Her mouth opens in a gasp as her throat fails to make a sound and she half hopes him to attack when he raises his arm, but instead, his hand clasps over her mouth. 

“No…” he says, his voice a dry whisper. Up close his eyes are empty and she is tempted to wonder if it is anguish that makes them sparkle. His hand clasped over her mouth trembles a little. “Not you too -” his voice trails off, and he collapses upon her, making Soo stagger backwards and hit the wall for support. Instinctively, her hands come up to clutch at his back and her palms come off wet - smeared in blood too warm to be another’s. 

“Wangjanim?” She mutters hesitantly. “Wang -”

The boy approaches her now, tugging at her skirts. 

“You - wife?” He asks, clearly doing his utmost to string a coherent sentence. “Injured -” the boy makes a stabbing movement, his white face loosing the little color it had as he demonstrates. “Saved - this prince.” He signals at himself, a little haughtily underneath all the worry and fear. “Injured,” he says again. 

Her heart clenches painfully as the boy watches her with wide eyed worry, frowning now, at her immobilization. “Move - save him!” He says his frown deepening. “You - wife?” He asks again. 

Slowly, almost moved by the uneven choice of words, Soo nods, her hands clenching at So’s back. The boy tells her something more, in quick hysterical Chinese - something that she doesn’t understand. He is screaming now - ordering no - imploring her to do something - but she cannot move. 

He is loosing too much blood - perhaps already lost too much. His cheek resting against her throat is cold as ice. 

“Soo - yah…” his breath stirs against her skin, a weak pulse thumps against her heart. 

“He is asking you to call the guards,” says a new voice making her jump. A woman appears from the darkened hallway, her white robes swishing against the floor. She bows elegantly and indifferent to the situation. 

“Mistress,” she says, addressing Soo. “This servant is called Woo Hee. I am to be your caretaker in the prince’s household. If you allow me -” she moves swiftly, supporting half the dead - weight of So upon her. “I can help you treat his highness.”

Notes:

I'm so bitter about my own inefficiency that I have to split most of the chapters into two. It has happened again and I am sorry. This is a short read, perhaps not as interesting either but much necessary for the story I'm about to tell. Bear with me for these days, I promise I'll try my best to restore my previous regular updates.
Do comment and let me know if you're reading. Going by the way comments are reducing chapter by chapter I'm starting to think your interest is waning as the story progresses. It makes me sad to be honest. So please take a moment to share some feedback.
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 8: Fringe

Summary:

Against the pull of fate and faith she stands on the fringe ready to topple any moment and below the abyss awaits.
Or in which Soo must choose one of them for once.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

His eyes flutter open at the first brush of the wet cloth. Soo jumps back startled, both at his feral eyes and at the realization that her gaze had been fixed upon his. It is only belatedly that she notices the vice of a grip he holds her wrist in, unforgiving fingers digging into the supple flesh at the back of her wrist. Animal in those eyes takes a moment to retreat, he blinks slowly, eyes clear of haze making a slow crawl over her face. The next moment he is sitting up, pushing away the hand she stretched up to touch him. 

He doesn’t look at her when he reaches for the wet rag. 

It hurts. Strangely though, Soo had not expected to be brushed off. Numbly, she stares at his face as it contorts in pain when he flexes his shoulder. A joint cracks popping into place. Fingers that inch towards the knot of his robe curl reflexively. So stops, shifting a little as the pain lances through his arm. 

“You should be resting,” he tells her then, pausing at the realization of how parched his throat makes the words sound. 

He had been a coward, to flee her deathbed, he cannot bring himself to meet her eye. To think that she had forgone her own comfort to come and sit at his side, he had failed her twice in a matter of days. The movement against protesting muscles makes him draw a shuddering breath. But the bloody cloths stick to his back, itching and cold - he would not be able to assess the injury without peeling them off. And he wished her gone. 

So had no intentions of baring his hideousness before her, giving her all the more reason to loath him, cringe away from him. He had seen it in her eyes; she considered him the retribution for her sins. He would rather not make her a party to his cursed existence. 

Fire shots up his arm when he moves, merciless flames licking alone every nerve ending - pulsing, protesting, burning - 

Her cold palm covers his unexpectedly. The abruptness of her move making him freeze and draw in a rattling breath. Against his better judgement his eyes draw to her and holds - searching, wondering. Why would she touch him willingly?

“Allow me, your highness,” she mumbles, addressing that blasted knot in his robe instead of him. She doesn’t wait for permission, instead her fingers are deft pulling the silk ties undone with a tug. Had her palm not felt so cool against his, he would not have believed her fever broken for her pale face is flushed, teeth worrying at her cracked bottom lip. He reads her better than he wishes to. 

“You don’t have to do this…” 

She radiates discomfort, it hurts him far more than he had anticipated. Somewhere in his pain addled mind, that last memory of her terrified eyes is still raw. She thought he was going to kill the boy, she thought of him a monster again. And she thinks of herself shackled to the monster by a royal edict. 

“Please - go and rest.” He tries again. 

She pauses only briefly to look at him. Only a handful times he had seen those eyes so close that for a moment So has to remind himself to breathe. She has such deep eyes, a glossy earthy tone of rain drenched soil - with flecks of honey simmering in their depths. He flinches when she peels the outer robe off his shoulders, her face losing the little color it had when her hands come off red - stained. 

“Woo Hee is making a paste - she - she said it would stop the bleeding.” He cannot read the expression those eyes brim with, it makes it hard to look at her anyhow. “She said the cut is not too deep. That no stitches will be required,” she continues disgruntled, nimble fingers pulling at his inner robe. “She -”

“Don’t -” he is uncertain whether he wished or uttered it aloud, for his words do not register with her. Tips of her fingers brush against his bare arms as she drags off the bloodied layer of clothing. Cool air stings against the open wound - as if red hot iron had poked against the raw flesh. Instead though his eyes refuses to flinch - or close; as they are trained on her to gauge her reaction. He must love crushing his own heart too much for his own good. So is uncomfortably aware of each inch of his torso that lay bare before her eyes - and he waits - sadistically - for her to take note of each ridge of raised skin, each puckered scar and each gash too deep for the skin to rejoin tethered up with scar tissue. He had never felt a stronger need to crawl and hide, somehow, somewhere, and remove himself from her visage. 

Tips of her fingers are cold and their first press against his shoulder startles him. His eyes find hers. 

“Please - leave,” he implores now. “I see how it pains you - you don’t have to be here. You are not well.”

“So are you - your highness,” she says, pressing a cloth against the edges of torn skin, cleaning off the dried blood. Her voice is small, doused in pity. She speaks as if she is imagining his pain. It makes him feel more of a coward. He had run away, when he believed she was dying - when the pain of twisted limbs were far, far beyond anything a knife plunged in swift battle would cause. 

“You are afraid of me,” he accuses, or reminds himself - his tone acidic. She glances up at him, her face sickly pale now. He imagines the sight of dark blood oozing off his torn shoulder makes her queasy. “You should try to stay away.”

For a moment something akin to guilt crosses her face. He could see how fragile her health was, the signs of torture had not yet left her face. But that moment, only for a glimpse though it lasts, she looks like the Soo he knew and yearned for. 

“Wangjanim looks more afraid of me,” she mumbles distractedly. He would have snorted had the words not rang true. He was indeed afraid of her. Afraid of the hold she had of him - of his heart and soul and all that he ever was. She in her ignorant kindness would ruin him. He does not realize his eyes have widened, he does not realize she has taken off his mask. It would have made him furious, how strikingly bare the vulnerability of his expression had been then. He does not know it makes her throat tighten. He looks so forlorn, uncertain - like a wild beast that is unfamiliar to human touch but craves it nevertheless. She wishes he does not look at her like that, as if the warm glow that she feels inside her indeed makes her radiant - as if nothing except her was worth laying his eyes upon. It makes her heart swell against her better judgement. 

This man had the face of her nightmares, but in his eyes all she saw was the flickering need of an abandoned boy to belong, to be loved. 

He reaches for her with his uninjured arm, hardened tips of his fingers brushing against her jaw. Her eyes fixated upon his, note how his gaze darkens a notch, deepens infinitely. Breath hitches in her throat, her mouth suddenly dry.

She might be losing her mind.  

For had a knock on the door not torn her off that particular trance, she thinks as the beating of her heart drowns the thought, he would have kissed her, she knew it like an imprint of a unfulfilled fantasy and she would have allowed him. 

His hand drops to his side as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Soo moved instinctively, covering him, knowing he would not want to be seen so vulnerable, his face bared by another. The protective instinct makes her pause in surprise later, when she feels his fingers curling around her wrist, slowly pulling himself to his feet. 

So notices the lack of his mask only belatedly, as he slips on his outer robe and allows it to hang from his shoulders, he picks it up from where she had left it at his bedside. 

“Enter!”

The soldier is hesitant to lift his eyes, glancing from the dishevelled prince to the half concealed lady in the shadows. 

“Wangjanim, his highness the Eighth prince is here,” he says promptly. “…to personally escort the lady’s maid - and his highness wonders whether he could visit his former in law -”

So dismisses the rest of the message with a flick of his wrist and slowly turns to face her. His mouth is twisted and all the softness gone from his face. He watches her for a moment, she wonders if that was what judgement looks in his face. Soo had not forgotten her feverish confessions, it takes all her will power not to bulk under the weight of his gaze - knowing gaze. 

The fourth prince clicks his tongue. 

“Relay back to him that I am most grateful for his efforts and I will host him for the night. The lady would see him if she so wishes in the morning. Tell him to wait as I do not wish to be disturbed in our bedchamber at such an unreasonable hour.”

“Wangjanim!” Her indignity speaks before her. 

“Leave,” he snaps at the messenger before shutting the door. The frame rattling at the force he employs. His face is still hard when he turns to her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pausing and flinching as he flexes his shoulder. “I will not ask you to stay. But there is something you must know before you go with him, this is the man who potentially advised Lady Oh to her death.”

The breath she draws in freezes somewhere in her airway. Soo stares at him, her eyes stinging with shocked tears. 

“Wangjanim -”

“Choose him if you must, but I will not have you jumping blind into quicksand.”

“I do not believe you!”

“Lady Oh told me herself,” he exhales, his fists clenched as he turns away from her. “I see that you have no reason to believe me. Go then, go if you must. Ask him - let him give you the truth you won’t take from me.” 

She draws in a breath, suddenly adrift. She had waited for him, she had yearned for him. But - but why had he taken so long. Suddenly, cold and uprooted, Soo comes to the realization that the moment Wook walked away from her is branded in her conscious. 

“Why is he here now?” she asks softly. His eyes find her, she hadn’t realized how they gleam with a subtle hint of wit. He doesn’t ask her what she meant. Of cause he is already wondering how his brother had learned to time his arrival perfectly with his injury. He would have to find and weed off Wook’s spies from his household - or perhaps from their route as well. But that is a concern for later. 

“Why would it matter?” He asks her instead. “He is here. You should hear his offer now that he intends to make one.”

You should leave like you wanted.  

He doesn’t say it, but the words are etched clear for her to see. Soo tastes shame on her tongue. It makes her feel small. When he approaches her, she takes an involuntary step backwards, suddenly feeling quite transparent to his knowing eyes. Suddenly cringing inwardly at her ugly secrets. He stands before her, too close for comfort. She could not bring herself to look in his eyes, but the gleaming expense of his chest bared through the parted robes offers no respite. 

He reaches for her hands, a gesture that makes her squirm in her shoes. 

“There are no ties between us,” he declares. “A decree from my father does not make you my own, Hae Soo.” She bites her lip, so hard that she tastes the metallic sting of blood on her tongue. “I do not wish it. I do not wish to own you. If it is what you wish for, I would let you go - where you are safe. But - I cannot upon my conscious let you go with him.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t know what to say. He has practically threatened her, but there is a silent prayer in his eyes. He reaches closer, eyes imploring and presses the side of his face against her temple. 

“He’s in cahoots with my mother.”

She pushes at him, violently, wanting to remove herself from the effect of such words than his presence. Her mind reels. Why would he say something like that? Why would he lie so cruelly? 

“You are lying!” She hisses, he flinches at her struggle but holds her. Her tone drops and choke with sobs. “It’s a lie!”

“It’s not safe - he’s not safe,” he mutters. He feels helpless, for he knows not how to make her believe him. He feels afraid, he could not risk her coming under the protection of a man who had his feet dipped in the conspiracy that almost took her life. “Believe me - please - believe me -”

“Leave me - you - !”

Neither of them had heard when the door slid open, or when Wook stepped over the threshold. Only the thundering tone of his voice, brings their argument to a rattling halt.  

“WANG SO!” 

Notes:

Ah I know I said I wont update this until I'm done with Wolf and I. But then have I ever managed to keep my hands off a fic? This keeps me sane.
Hope you enjoyed.
Let me know!
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 9: Stone in pool

Summary:

She feels the wave it creates though she had not seen the stone. Perhaps in which Soo begins to open her eyes.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It startles her how easily he lets her go. He reads the surprise that numbs her on the spot, where his grip had halted her before. So feels his brow furrowing when he applies his mind to the contradiction that is Hae Soo - and he wonders for the first time if the woman knows what she wants herself. Looking at those empty, bewildered eyes it seems unlikely. He is unsure whether he enjoys the revelation. True; there is a child - like innocence that lights her up from within - but interwoven with ploys of his father’s court as she is - he is unsure if it is a survival skill or not. 

It seems as if a veil between them had lifted and he is seeing her for the first time. So stops himself from giving into the urge to shield her and takes a decisive step back. If she is to survive his world, she cannot have him as her shield forever. If she is survive she will have to be her own armor. Perhaps that was where both her cousin the lady Hae and her mentor court lady Oh had failed.

He will not be making her decisions. 

Instead, So rounds up on his brother - a better target to channel his frustration. He takes note of Wook with a soldier’s cold detachment in sizing up his enemy. So had no illusions about this man, had they shared ideals at a point, their parting of ways had since come. So he observes how anger reduces him to half the man he pretends to be, muscle of his face twitching and contorting. His indifference seems to aggravate his brother, in different circumstances So would have found it amusing. His mouth twitches at how far the composed scholar prince had come. 

“Wook,” he says, not bothering to keep the condescending tone in check. “It seems you would need to revisit the old tutor on courtly behavior. Such a pity,” he allows his voice to trail off. But Wook gives him no notice. 

“Hae Soo -” he says, his tone dropping to a mere caress. So feels his frown deepen, it does them no good to display such intimacy. Either Wook was very foolish, or exceptionally calculative. He draws the line when his brother makes a move to enter. 

“Outside,” So tells him. His icy tone makes the man still for a moment. “You will not impose upon my hospitality brother, or I will be compelled to have you thrown out. Do not dishonor the lady by implying to know her intimately.” He turns to Soo only briefly. For some reason So finds her indecisiveness has irksome as Wook’s interference. Perhaps the dull ache of his shoulder had frayed his nerve. “Speak with him if you must,” he says without meeting her eye. He would not condemn himself to watch the relief his words would bring her. “In the tea - room.” he adds, rising his tone so that Wook gets the message before he leaves them to sort the complications they seem to enjoy stirring from time to time. 

He finds Woo Hee in the court yard outside their rooms, tending to dying embers underneath her pot of brew. In a low voice she converses with prince Rui, in fault - less Chinese. Their voices die as they spot him, the boy jumps to his feet. 

“Young master! You are awake!” 

“Prince,” adds Woo Hee in an undertone. “Your young master is a son of the emperor.” 

“But so am I -” the boy wonders aloud. 

“Out fathers are neither allies nor enemies,” So tells him. “Our rank is the same.” The boy nods - a little self assuredly, before eyeing him again. “I’m fine,” So tells him a little awkwardly. It feels strange to have someone peering at him with such obvious concern. “You ride well.”
The prince flushes and preens, pleased with himself. He swings back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Your horse it beautiful,” he says conversationally in a tone of smooth politeness that does not befit his age. So looks down at the boy, trying not to see years of training at court which had potentially rubbed childhood off his poised manner. 

“Would you like to see if he has settled well after the ordeal?” He offers and the prince brightens up at the suggestion. So signals for one of the guards, one of the silent ones that Mu had chosen to accompany him, and the bulky man leads the excited boy away towards the stables. When he straightens up, finally ready to face the woman he wanted to confront, he finds Woo Hee watching him wearily. There is a stiffness to her posture that tells him he knows that their conversation will not be pleasant.

She bows slightly. 

“I’ve been brewing a poultice for your highness. Your arm - how does it feel now?” She asks calmly, but there is a vein throbbing at her throat, giving away the agitation that she tries to mask. 

“Should I be weary of you - Woo Hee from Hubaekje?” 

“Your highness?”

“Perhaps you will not poison me now,” he contemplates slowly. “Your masters back in Songak might want me alive. But I must admit you are a woman far more resourceful than my initial estimation. To send a word of my injury so quickly and so efficiently, while creating yourself the perfect diversion -”

“My lady Hae would vouch for my -”

“Your lady Hae is a fool. A kind hearted fool. You will not exploit her kindness for whatever game you are scheming. It’s not Wook is it - the master that you report to?”

His question drowns in the silence that follows. Sharp like edge of a sword, it hangs between them dangling perilously. Woo Hee tilts her chin and gives him a scathing look. 

“Does your highness wish me gone?” She says in the end, quite unperturbed. 

“What makes you think I have no other means of disposing of you?” So raises a brow, “For a spy, you lack the refinement Woo Hee. I could have you killed and exploit the link you’ve established with your master. At this point you should try to worm your way out - not lash out.”
”Perhaps it is the fact that I am still alive that makes me bold, your highness.”
”Matters of Prince Rui should not reach the ears of your master,” he tells her abruptly, cutting her short. “I’m warning you now - I will not deal with it lightly.”
Woo Hee breathes through he mouth, watching him with narrowed eyes. She had expected to be threatened, but not regarding some inconsequential princeling. 

“Sit down.” She says. Her words catch him off guard. It takes the fourth prince a moment to mask the startled expression. “The poultice is ready.”

So watches her for a long moment before nodding briefly. He doesn’t ask her, but she offers him the simplest explanation she can. “In a different world we could have been allies - your highness.”

**

In a different world they would have ended up together - perhaps away from the palace that threatens to suffocate them in its inescapable shadow. In a different world he would have met her eye. 

“How are you Soo?” He sounds concerned enough, but the words feel like the empty rustle of leaves. Wook’s smile is strained, as if it hurts him to gaze at her when their eyes meet. “Does So - does he hurt you?”

“I’m not sure why you would think that your highness - the fourth prince saved me.”

His fingers tightens around the teacup, if only by a fraction. He swirls the drag in the cup, turning it in his hands. 

“You don’t have to defend him,” he tells her darkly. The sudden change of tone makes her eyes snap back to him. “You are not obliged to him Soo - he has done you no favor. You were safe even before Wang So decided he needed to jump in. I - lady Oh saved you.”
”And she died,” she reminds him. She cannot help but wince at how effortlessly he refers to an event that had scarred her. She cannot help but recall the allegation of the fourth prince - he advised her to death. “How can I ever forget that -”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to repent. She would have known with time you will heal. People who leave us, only have our best interest at heart. They would not want us to grieve them all our lives.”

Is that how you forgot your wife? The question springs to being and takes her by surprise. She would never ask him something so vile, not when she fancied herself in love with him while her cousin was dying. But the doubt had plunged itself into her conscious - Wang So had done it so effortlessly - that now, she cannot gulp back her words. However before she utters anything, Wook is speaking again.

“I will take you away from here,” he says his tone seeping in warmth. “Give me some time.”

“How -?” She cannot see it, how things could change anymore. The hope that simmers in his eyes pricks at her. “There is an edict -”

“It can be annulled,” he cuts her off. “Anything can be done Soo - yah, you just need the required power to do it.”

Was that what he is doing? Gathering himself enough power so that he could free her? Was that why he had to distance himself willingly, throw her away when she needed his support? Did she believe him anymore?

He seems to think so, for Wook reaches across and takes her hand. 

“If I ask you to wait, give me some time - will you do that for me?”

She blinks at him, disarmed at how trusting he is of her heart when she is uncertain herself. Warmth seeps from his palms that presses her hand between them. He had walked away from her. He had left her without a word. She could have died not having seen him again…

But he is here now. He is waiting. 

“Be safe in Jin,” he says softly. “Don’t let Wang So’s foolish recklessness drag you into danger. He thinks he could accomplish the impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“The emperor of Jin was established by Khitan forces, it is impossible to change his allegiance.” He shakes his head sarcastic. But then he presses her hand. “Write to me. Let me know what is happening - I mean how you are doing. Chae Ryung will find a way to make sure your word reaches me.”

Something about his words nags at her, like an upturned stone in a well paved path. She pulls her hand away, her palm suddenly clammy. The knot in her throat makes her swallow. 

Was he asking her to spy on the fourth prince?

It brings back his words, like pricks that makes her confidence in the Eighth Prince bleed. He is in cahoots with my mother. 

“Write to me, tell me what happens in Jin.” His warm words call her back from the mire of thoughts. “It kills me to see you go, not to know how you are.” Her throat is clogged, she has no words to offer him. Those words do move her, his eyes are ever sincere. But …but…

“I must go now,” he rises to his feet finally, freeing her from the obligation to reply. He still holds her hand and helps her back to her feet. With his fingers he tries to smooth off the creases that appear between her brows as she tries to swallow the pain that crackles through her bones when her weight is placed back upon them. A fruitless endeavour if there ever was one. He pats her cheek. 

“My heart goes with you.”

Notes:

Ah Wook I'm going to bet So will say extra baggage is not allowed therefore you should keep your heart. 😂

This is an attachment rope sort of chapter - it ends the songak and begins the journey towards Jin now that our little party is all assembled minus of one - I'm not telling who.

I know it has less entertainment value but is crucial towards the proceeding of story. Therefore I hope you'll forgive its slightly boring nature.

Thanks for reading! Please share your thoughts!

Chapter 10: Light

Summary:

She is finally willing to see.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

If you cannot give him your heart, don’t give him hope. Lady Oh had said. She did not understand it then, as she had not understood many other things. She still did not, Soo confessed to herself. Like how she couldn’t rise to follow the Eighth Prince to the entrance to see him off, how she couldn’t return his parting smile - or promise that she will indeed write to him.

She wants to. And she hates herself for that. She does not understand why.

It had disappointed Wook, she could see it in the diminishing gleam of his eyes, the slight falter of his smile. But he squeezes her hand one last time, warmly, understandingly and she can’t breathe until he lets it drop.

My heart goes with you. He says and he expects it to give her strength to be a traitor. His heart seems to do nothing else but burden her.

What am I to you? She wants to ask, watching the view of his retreating back that is starting to get devastatingly familiar. To push away and pull closer so easily - so confusingly. What is the purpose of this visit - is it to see me - or is it something else? 

Their equation had changed. She would be a fool not to see that. He may promise her the world but it would come at a price. Soo stands up on shaky legs, gripping the rough edge of the table for support. She prays not to learn what the price is - but the answer hooves somewhere at the brink of her subconscious.

“It comes down to what you are willing to do for love - Unnie!” The friend that had betrayed her in a different world had said, shaking her head as if she was all knowledgeable about romance. Her grip tightens, painfully so. Tell me what happens in Jin. He hoped she would be willing to, in the name of love, willing to betray the man who saved her life - in his own twisted way.

Was she willing to do that for love?

What was she turning into?  

Rain hums the first few notes on the strings of wind and shame hangs over her like a dark cloud. It had taken her so long to notice the line she had drawn on her own - the line between them that dares her to cross it and reach him. Wang So leans against one of the wooden beams, watching the rain drop with a morose expression. There is no pleasure lighting up his eyes at the sight of it, no peace upon his taut jaw and the vulnerability that he had exposed before her once is firmly hidden behind the shell of hard wrought metal. She said she regretted it all - she recalls with flinching bitterness.Words are water slipping through gaps of her fingers, lost to her control forever. But the hurt remains, a stain, a bruise, a crack un - amendable. The man who had allowed her to unmask him, touch the burden weighing upon his soul, is masked once more. He has his back to her, shoulders braced, arms folded tensed as if he waits an attack, as if he waits for her to hurt him again.

He believes she would. Wook believes she could. Lady Oh had hoped she wouldn’t and Soo did not know if she will. She hopes she wouldn’t. She hopes - she prays - it wouldn’t come to that.

“Did you see Chae Ryung?” He asks suddenly, his tone flat.

“Yes, she is settling in. Thank you - your highness.” Her voice shakes, falters when she wishes it doesn’t and he stiffens before turning to meet her eye. “Thank you your highness,” she repeats, steeling herself to meet his gaze that seem to gauge her. “Her presence is a comfort.”

He nods stiffly after a moment, trying but failing to remain indifferent. She wishes he comes away from that threshold, where the rain sprinkles its dew upon him - the chill itself seems torturous, without additional water to damage his wound.

“Did Wook mention -” So flexes his jaw, bracing himself for something bitter. “There is a rumor - that I -” he clears his throat awkwardly. “I did not dishonor you in anyway while you were indisposed, Soo - yah. You must know that I -”

“I know. I remember.”

Stress leaves him in an exhale and his shoulders droop. Something warm swells within her, edging her to reach out. Soo clenches her fists to resist it.

“I would have told the same had his highness asked, he did not.”

If you cannot give him your heart, don’t give him hope. The ghost of her mentor continue to resonate in her head. Soo swallows.

“Even if I did not remember, I wouldn’t believe that of you - your highness.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” his voice is softer than the rain pelting his shoulders, his expression obscured. But she hears the longing as if it rings in her ears and makes her throat tight. “You are my wife, my rank is yours.”

She blinks and drops her eyes, steeling herself to utter the next words.

“I am not your wife - Your Highness.”

An edict can be annulled. Anything can be done, if there is sufficient power. If you are willing to …if I …

“Soo - yah,” he calls out softly. His sword hardened palm brushes against her cheek, bringing to her attention the tears that fell unknowingly. “Has something happened?” His fingers curl around her chin, forcing her to meet his searching eyes. “Is it Wook? What has he done?”

It overwhelms her how easily he reaches out to sooth her, shield her when he believes she had been hurt. And she had almost considered betraying him.

“Wangjanim - is it possible for me to be a free woman again?” She phrases it cautiously, dropping edict and annul and power out of her equation. Her heart twists painfully once but she presses upon it. She must know, must hear the truth of promises that were made. His hand falls away and he doesn’t meet her eye. “Is it?”

“Is that what you want?” She barely hears him over the patter of rain. But she reads the hurt too well. “Is it that hurtful to be -”

“No!” She protests in haste. “If someone says I can - would he be lying? That is what I need to know.”

A long pause ensures and she has to peek up at his expression. There is tension in his clenched jaw, a faint frown between his brows.

“Did Wook promise you that?” He asks carefully, choosing his words as cautiously as she had done before. She cannot see what it means to him. He doesn’t allow her such liberties anymore. “And what are you to do in exchange?”

“He wants me to write to him.”

The words leave her mouth with the burden Wook had left upon her conscious. Soo breathes through her open mouth, grateful that she no longer tastes betrayal in her mouth. He has turned away from her, staring back into the rain, now falling at earnest. She could no longer read him.

Soo waits a moment longer hoping that he would speak to her. He doesn’t and her heart begins to clench painfully. Does he think she would have taken up on that offer - does he believe her capable of betraying him? She would have - she acknowledges halfheartedly. But it doesn’t lessen the pain. She takes a step backwards - perhaps she should not have told him that -

“Why,” his abrupt voice halts her. “Why are you telling me this?”

“He changed.”

“Hmm?”

“The Eighth Prince is not the man I believed he was. I -” she has to clench her fist to bring the words to her mouth. “I’ve been wrong again.”
He turns to her now, curiously but she doesn’t see as she never raises her head to meet his gaze.

“I tried to cling to my belief because accepting that I was wrong about him would mean that I have misjudged again. That no matter where or when I’m always wrong in choosing who to trust - to love.

She inhales sharply and decides to push through, vent it all even if he is not replying.

“It was okay when I was losing money - it hurt less somehow. Now my mistakes cost in lives. And I’ve been wrong again. I’m responsible for Lady Oh’s death. I might have a hand in Unnie’s broken heart. Why I’m telling you this is because I don’t want your death on my hands Wangjanim - even if you hate me after this.”

“It will make you a free woman. My death.” He says slowly.

She shakes her head slowly.

“His highness is wrong to think I’d want such freedom. Your highness is my friend. Lady Oh was my mentor. I wouldn’t have wished so hard to stay alive if I knew she would die in my place. She - she told me not to trust him. Not to wait for him. She wanted me to leave the palace with her. I - I’m such a fool aren’t I?” She adds the last words when she realizes how similar they are - the fourth prince and lady Oh. Both of them cared for her when she does not deserve it.

He watches her still, unmoving and silent.

“What?” She asks, stopping to angrily dab at those stinging tears.

“I want to hold you will you allow me?” He says uncertainly.

She blinks up at him bewildered. So reaches to wrap his arms around her, loosely, in a barely there embrace. His mouth presses against her temple, chastely. It is she who borrows into the warmth of his chest, trying but failing to hold back tears.

“You are allowed,” she mumbles. It fills him with a warmth that he tries hard to suppress, warn his heart not to feel again. He allows himself to press another kiss that she would never know into her hair, and holds her closer. “Won’t you say it?” Her words are muffled against his clothes.

“What?”

“That Lady Oh would not want me to grieve her death.”

Her words are greeted with silence and his hand runs soothingly down her spine.

“I do not know her well enough to judge that,” he says after a moment. “I cannot dictate your feelings either. You must have loved her, your grief is natural. But -” He pause causing her to look up at him. “Would you take my advice Soo - yah? Learn a lesson from her loss - if you must keep reminding yourself what you’ve lost, better make it a lesson.”

She says nothing. He had never spoken to her like that.

“You think I am a fool don’t you - your highness?”

“If you think you are repeatedly wrong - don’t you agree it is time to change that. Nobody can teach a person who does not know of their own ignorance. If you think you are a fool - you are at the best place to start learning.”

“And your highness wish to teach me?”

“Yes.”

**

 

 

Notes:

The official end of first half and the remains of the chapter before. I wanted this to be remarkable hence kept this part to be posted on its own.
Hope you find it enjoyable.
Thanks for reading.
From next chapter on wards we shall officially head towards Jin.

Chapter 11: Outskirts

Summary:

While some bonds are mending others rust.

Notes:

Merry Christmas!
I know it's been long, but I've been scraping the bottom of bad days and my PC died, yet to be revived, and typing on phone is meh. I'm sure this update is littered with typos, I'd hunt for them leisurely tomorrow. Meanwhile this is the best I can do with a mobile, so forgive the length and enjoy your chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Town gates!"
Scout returns, calling towards the party with barely concealed glee. Beside her Chae  Ryung sighs, lips moving in silent prayer.
"Finally," she mumbles. "Civilization."
Soo ignores her. Instead of the respite she had expected, Chae Ryung proved to be a troublesome companion for travels. She complained of rain, of sun, of long miles, of stuffy carriages and most of all - barbaric ways of her new master.
"Lady Hae," Woo Hee interjects just in time. "You should drink this while it is warm - my lady."
Soo takes it from her hand, grateful to hold the warm ceramic between her palms. She turns to her other aid with equal relief, momentarily seeking respite from Chae Ryung's displeasure.
"Did you offer any to his highness? Or the little prince?"
Woo Hee smiles, her eyes dancing in mirth.
"You need to find either of them first my lady. I'm sure in this soggy fog they will need more than warm drinks once you do."
"Where are they off to?"
Soo tugs at her cloak, a gift from the fourth prince, who denied all knowledge of having bought it from merchants they travelled with. But Soo knew of cause, there were no elves to leave her clothes in this wildness and then there was that tell - tale twinkle in his eyes when she tried it on. The fourth prince did not have a court face - it was good thing that he had a mask - was all Chae Ryung had to say about it. The cloak was warm enough, neckline trimmed with snow white fox fur, it looked like something a princess would wear.
"I will go and see -" she nods at Woo Hee and before Chae Ryung catches up, quickens her pace down the slope of the valley, where a little stream babbled and trees grew in thickets.
"Wangjanim?"
There was no answer to her call. Some birds fluttered away when she moved through the branches, complaining in incessant critters. Something moved in the bushes and escaped on hurried scurry legs.
"Wangjanim!"
Ground gets slippery as she nears the stream. Soo lifts her skirts a little, keeping a careful eye on where she put her feet. She could hear giggles which definitely belonged to prince Rui and splashing of water. A quick scan of surrounding yield no results.
"Wangjan-"air stuck in her throat as she slipped, the original word ending instead with a high pitched squeak. What Soo thought was a sturdy place to step on had not been so and the rock beneath her foot with its ages of slime gave away without a second thought.
Oh she never fell.
Had it not been for her very real fear that she would have fallen and broken a bone or two, maybe perhaps cracked her head open, Soo would have thought the entire thing as quite cliche. She hadn't seen him coming. Hadn't thought he would catch her until he had grabbed her with sure hands on both her elbows. Mortified at the sound of his low chuckle she looks away.
"Can you not get into a scrap the minute I am not there?" He asks, pulling her by hand to the safer part of the bank. He looks amused, she thinks with little mirth, at her expense nevertheless. "You know there was a king - who had his daughter tied to him in hope of stopping her from getting in to trouble every other minute."
"I'm not your daughter Wangjanim."
"No." He agrees. "It wouldn't have worked anyway, you would simply drag me along to whatever disaster you've stirred up. Soo - ya," he grows a little serious. "You aren't hurt are you?"
"I'm fine." She swallows the warmth that swells inside her at his obvious concern. Soo wasn't as uncomfortable with his attention as she was in the beginning when they settled into this tentative friendship that had a very delicate base upon truth neither of them brought up willingly. She had gladly taken the alternative of friendship, wanting if nothing else to iron out creases between them. The fourth prince had never truly desired her friendship, he himself had told her so on that long lost day. But now that he seemed to extend a hand of friendship she would do well not to remind him of that. Life is easier with a friend than a rejected lover.
"What are you two up to?" She asks him now, frowning slightly to focus on where to put her feet. The prince clicks his tongue and takes her hand, entwining their fingers firmly.
"I can't watch your wobbling walk -" he tells her. "You look like a drunk on a storm tossed boat."
"Not quite princely of you to say." Soo tells him briskly. "I'm trying to be careful."
Prince Rui shouts for them when they appear on his sight, waving his bony arms in the air. He has removed most of his clothing, leaving him in sodden baji pants as he waded the stream.
"Please tell me his robes are somewhere dry!" Soo mutters to herself.
"Oh they are," So assures her.
"Lady come! Come!" Rui urges. "Look - look it moves!"
What he points to is a toy boat, made of dry bark, twigs and other forest clutter. There is a spiderweb spun between two tiny branches fixed to look like a sail and two ants sit atop a leaf in the middle of the swinging boat. It moves on it's own, a little wonder that peddles it's way slowly through the still water.
Soo claps her hands together.
"It's wonderful!"
So shifts beside her. At first she doesn't notice the rigidness of his frame or how his ears turn a shade of pink.
"You are so smart - your highness!" She praises Rui as she squats down for a better look. For all the boats in the world Soo would not step in water unless it was absolutely necessary. "It's the best boat I've ever seen!"
"We should make a bigger one -" Rui nods, looking at So. "Then we could ride in it - we could sail in the sea!"
"I'm afraid it won't work if it's bigger," So wades into water after him, and catches the boat before it escapes their sight. He doesn't care about his own clothes, Soo thinks a little crossly. Sight of him in water evokes rather disturbing memories of the first time she had seen his scar bared.
"Are you alright?"
She jumps a little when his voice sounds quite close. She hadn't seen him approaching.
"You look uncomfortable."
Soo shakes her head. Then wanting to change the direction of their conversation she fishes.
"Did your highness make that ?"
"Yes," he flushes a little. Even with half his face covered she could notice the stains of color. "A passing soldier taught me when I was in Shinju." Soo doesn't reply. The air is thick with discomfort again. He doesn't talk of Shinju much, doesn't willingly broach the topic. She could only imagine how traumatic an experience it could have been despite snubs Chae Ryung had often made. He was a calloused man, true, but not so by choice. 
"It's wonderful." She repeats and watches how it pleases him; the simplest of compliments. It only tightens her heart to think how he must have yearned to be acknowledged that even a whisper of attention perks him up so much. But then that is dangerous water she would rather not trade.
"Aren't you cold - your highness?"
"Not quite. You get used to the water once you step in."
"Uh ah no thank you!" Soo waves a hand at the suggestion in his eyes. "I'm quite fine here."
"Are you certain?"
"Your highness -" she says warningly.
So raises his hands in the air gesturing innocently at her. But his eyes are wicked and full of silent laughter.
"It's not me -!" He chokes back a laugh.
But his warning is quite too late, or wickedly so delayed. Small hands on her back push her off the safety of the sturdy rock she had perched herself on and with a disgraceful Yelp and a splash of skirts and water she lands in his arms. So's laugh rumbles beneath her and vibrates through her, joining with Rui's giggles from above. She'd skin them both had this been another world and had they both not been God forsaken princes! She is a mess of sodden skirts and damp hair and barely catching her breath, surely looking like a drowned cat and he had the gale to throw his head back and laugh. Soo raises a hand to push him and stops. She had never seen him laugh like that.
He looked so young, she thinks unwittingly. He was young, far too young, when she thought how old she would be in her real world. But it wasn't often that the fourth prince looked his age. She was so baffled by the thought that he notices her clattering teeth before she does.
"Come play!" Rui was demanding, jumping and splashing water everywhere. "Come!"
"Forgive me," So hangs his head, unsure, withdrawn. His arms fall away from her shoulders. "I should have stopped him."
It hurts to see how quickly he retreats to his shell, how afraid he looks of her response. Soo takes a breath to calm herself. "You are cold." He notes, watching her with concerned eyes. "We should return."
"Not before I have my revenge!" She states, cupping water in her hands and tossing at him. His startled reflex creates more splashes that wets them both. Rui yelps delighted, joining in, until So ducks him inside the water and he reemerges splattering.
Soo laughs.
"There," he tells her. "Your wrong avenged."
"Aggassi!" Soo feels her smile dimming as she recognizes Chae Ryung's voice. So seemed to understand. He picks up the boy and helps him back to the bank where he runs off to find his remaining clothes. He offers her his hand, but doesn't exit the water immediately.
"Why does she make you uncomfortable?" He asks her, a faint frown playing between his brows.
Soo deflects the question quickly.
"It's nothing. She has trouble adjusting. I feel sorry for having dragged her along."

So tilts his head. Not quite believing her words but choosing to let it slide. His outer robe lies neatly folded on the bank. He drapes it across her shoulders.
"That hardly repairs anything your highness," Soo grins, looking pointedly at both their muddy drenched selves. "Oh I will never hear the end of this."
"Aggassi!" Chae Ryung finds them. So frowns at her.
"Correct your address," he snaps at her. "Your mistress is married now!"
"My apologies, your highness," she sinks to a bow, but her face isn't pleased. "It slipped out of habit."
"It's fine Chae Ryung. His highness doesn't mean to punish."
So gives her a look, unnecessarily brushing off creases in his robe that she wears. He nods at her and stalks off, leaving Soo to deal with her disgruntled servant.
"Chae Ryung rise, don't be ridiculous!" She pulls the young woman to her feet. "You know he didn't mean it."
"Did he not lady Hae?" Her eyes are accusing as they trail over her wet hair and the prince's robe that barely covers her own drenched clothing. "What makes you think he will not have me executed given the chance?"
"That's stupid. Why would he do that?"
"Why would he not?" Chae Ryung's voice rises sharply. "My lady you know too well his highness does not want me here. He is intentionally making things difficult for me. Intentionally making things difficult between us. My lady he is trying to isolate you!"
Soo draws in a breath, appalled.
"That's quite an accusation Chae Ryung."
"It is true nevertheless. You are surrounded by his spies brought here away from all your friends and people you knew, places you were familiar with. Tell me my lady, when was the last time you wrote back to any of your contacts? When was the last time you heard from any of them? When was the last time you made soap, made those make up or perfume or did anything that makes you even remotely you? No, instead here you are playing in the water that you so fear - laughing away as some boy from nowhere tries to drown you! What else will you allow his highness? What is there left to you that he hasn't already taken away? My lady you are being beguiled."
"Chae Ryung..."
"I've heard it happens," Chae Ryung takes one of her fisted hands. "That women tend to fascinate themselves in love with men who - um - it's a victim's illusion to believe they are not bring harmed but protected instead. It's quite understandable that after what happened between -"
Soo snatches back her hand as if scalded.
"What happened between us? Nothing happened between us!"
Oh dear blessed God, Chae Ryung thinks she has Stockholm syndrome centuries before it is invented!
"My lady are you aware -"
"Chae Ryung." Her mind reels, she could barely bring herself to sound as calm as she sounds then without screaming in frustration. It was Wook all over again, with gentle prodding questions trying to gauge details about whether or not So had raped her. They were crazy, both of them, to even imagine something so vile and disgusting about them. "I have been fully conscious every moment I have spent with his highness and he has never even by a misplaced word, dishonored me. I don't appreciate the way you talk about him. He is master to both of us. It will do you good to remember that. I have not written home because we are currently on a secret mission. I cannot compromise it anymore than I already have. It might pain you to realize this - but I have changed. I am not the little girl brought up by my cousin's side anymore. I have left that part of me behind. I advice you to do the same. If his highness wanted you killed he would not have waited for so long. For love of heavens, use some of your senses!"
**
Soo leaves Chae Ryung behind, allowing her steaming rage to cover rest of the distance towards the camp instead. She leaves partly to allow Chae Ryung to ponder upon her words and partly because she cannot bear to watch the expression in her face anymore. Instead she stumbles upon So and his captain of guards, deep in conversation.
Their expressions suggest that it is a conversation behind closed doors, both men focused with blank faces and hands on hilts of their swords. So shakes his head suddenly, agitated.
"Out of question," he snaps at the man, who bows at him before muttering something more. "The lady will not accompany us. No. I am not open to discussion on this."
Soo frowns, faint threads of their conversation that she catches suggest that they were talking about her. About taking or not taking her somewhere.
He is isolating you.
Unbidden Chae Ryung's accusation swims over to her thoughts. She has to gulp down a burning sensation against her throat. No, she wouldn't think that of So, and if possible, she would prove it to Chae Ryung as well.
Soo emerges from her spot behind the cluster of trees where she had been listening to the two men. The captain of guards bow to her hastily and So goes perfectly still.
"Lady Hae," says the captain.
"I will do it." She spares him the trouble of offering and evoking So's wrath. "You wanted my assistance in something?" Now she looks hopefully at the brooding prince. He gestures the captain to remove himself from their presence, a sharp tilt of his head and the man is gone.
"Lesson," he says, "you don't offer to carry out tasks you have no knowledge about."
"Your highness can explain to me everything I need to know."
"Oh, what if I lie?"
"Your highness wouldn't."
He watches her for a moment, trying to decide if she was merely trying to charm out information or being genuine. Then perhaps, he decides that he doesn't care either way.
"Remember the assassins that tried to kill Rui?" When she nods he continues, all the while leading her back towards the camp. He keeps a hand pressed between her shoulder blades, a source of warmth for her chilling blood. "They came from that city. We have to deal with them before we pass through."
"We could circumvent - couldn't we?"
"I'm supposed to meet a contact there. So, no, we can't."
"What did the captain suggest?"
So takes a moment to answer that, as if debating with himself whether or not he wanted to tell her.
"Wangjanim," Soo says slowly. "Did we not agree that we will not keep secrets from one another? Are you truly not going to tell me?"
They hardly ever talk about that day anymore, the day they made their tentative truce to watch each other's back in the wake of Wook's last visit. So exhales defeated.
"He suggested we disguise the prince. No one is actually aware of him travelling with us."
"That is a sound suggestion."
"But it would involve you and I playing a couple."
"I see no problem in that."
"We would have to introduce him as your relative, because my contact would know he is not one of my brothers and we cannot possibly be his parents."
"True. We could say he is my brother. I am used to having a brother."
So looks at her startled, but instead of curiosity, concern wins over.
"It would mean exposing you to whoever that is hunting him and also to people I'm supposed to meet with. Soo - ya it is dangerous."
"Who is more dangerous, people after Rui or people your highness is supposed to meet?"
"Honestly? I don't know." He says exasperated. "Both would find you a much preferred target."
"But if we do it right, instead of exposing me it would mean shielding the little prince?"
"It would. But I cannot throw you to wolves over something so trivial."
"Then your highness must do it right." She smiles. "I will accompany you."
"Sweet lord!" Woo Hee makes no attempt to mask the exasperation of her tone. "Did you roll on mud or what?"
Soo exchanges a look with So, biting her lip.
"I did say, I wouldn't hear the end of this..."

Notes:

It is the beginning of Soo's POV, since this is a new half of the story I wanted to give her some voice to start with. We shall divert attention to So once more in the coming chapters.
Do share your thoughts and make my day!
Thanks for reading! :-)
Advance wishes for a happy new year!

Chapter 12: Dead end

Summary:

Things doesn't go as planned.

Notes:

Unedited. Pardon any typose you might notice for the moment.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She travels the worlds in her sleep. Or that is what it feels like, to dream of her life as Ha Jin. Those dreams come abruptly, scraps of memories she didn't even recall until that moment. Soo dreams of a dog her brother used to feed, of her days at school, of a red leather diary that she used to keep and dried flowers between its pages. She wakes up with a parched throat.
It feels a crime to wake up either Woo Hee or Chae Ryung - of the latter she thinks with a shudder. Soo wasn't above cold shouldering, but Chae Ryung she avoids simply for her mental peace. Instead she makes her way towards their barrels of water, lidded shut for the night and kept in the shade of tents. Moon is reflected in the ripples once she draws a cup to drink. It looks like a light at the end of a tunnel, eerily silver and silently beckoning. Soo cannot help but touch the tips of her fingers to the distorted reflection.
"Soo - yah?" He makes her jump.
"Wangjanim!" She croaks, sounding raspy than usual. So doesn't reply immediately, she notes how his eyes shift across her face, clearly in search of reasons for her distress. His eyes flick back to hers. "I came for water," she explains. "It seemed a fuss to wake anyone up."
Her words give way to a hopeful silence. He shifts again.
"Would you like to sit by the fire?" He asks. "It's almost dawn."
Soo could see the smoke in distance. She smiles a little at the promise of a warm crackling fire. So nods once, tightly, and leads the way. There are two soldiers at the entrance to their camp, alert and staring into the night, their backs to the merry fire. They offer So stiff bows as he passes and turns back to the night. Soo settles herself on one of the tree stumps around the fire.
"It smells nice," she says appreciatively, drawing a large breath full of warm air.
"It's the logs," So replies stirring the fire. "Scent of the tree."
"Scent of home..." Soo adds thoughtfully. "This is the furthest I've come from home." She says then, wondering to herself if the dreams were a manifestation of some kind of a home sickness. So watches her carefully, she could see he had a question that he was debating whether to ask.
In the firelight their gazes meet and hold. Soo watches the light dancing in the designs around his half mask.
"You don't talk of your family." He says in the end. "I thought you've forgotten them, but then you spoke about a brother earlier."
Soo tears her eyes away from him, thinking how much of truth she should spare.
"They are at a place I cannot reach," she says in the end. Neither lie nor truth. "Still - some times I-"
"You dream of them." He says softly. And refuses to meet her surprise. "I've heard, once, or twice."
Soo cannot think of a reply to that. She rubs her hands together, fiddling her thumbs.
"My mother could sing," she says suddenly. "She used to teach ballet-" she shakes her head. "You wouldn't know - it's a dance form. In the evenings her ankles would be swollen, but her face red and full of smiles. She'd pop her ankles up and braid my hair, and sing. I fell asleep everytime she did that."
His smile is awkward.
"She sounds lovely."
Soo pauses for a moment, watching him discreetly. He had that starved expression on his face once more. As if he couldn't picture the scene she described, as if she had lost him somewhere along the details. Wang So did not know what love looked like. That realization made her turn towards him eyes brimming with warmth.
"Wangjanim," she says cheerfully. "Tell me about Jin, have you been there before?"
He shakes his head once, and draws an insignificant bit closer.
"Jin, is Goreyo in the early years. A country soon after a war. A new born country with its struggles and uncertainties. You and I are fortunate to be born so long after the unification, that we can't imagine what it's like to live in Jin."
"What are we to do there?"
He takes moment to answer that.
"The impossible," he says. "We are to change the king's mind into forming an alliance with Goryeo. He was put on throne by the Khitan. His natural alliance is with them. And now the country is in chaos."
"He is not likely to abandon them."
"True." He watches her curiously. "Tell me, Hae Soo, do you enjoy these political conversations?"
"It's amusing - yes," she admits.
His lips hook up. She feels her own lips curling up to a corresponding grin. "What will you do then, if he is not likely to switch sides?"
He stirs the fire again, sparks dance in the air, flickering like a swarm of fire flies.
"You change the king."
**
The streets are bustling, though the city is unfamiliar. Hae Soo clutches on Rui's hand tighter as she takes in the view laid out before her. There is no mistaking that the country is at war. In a glimpse she could notice a marching soldier in the crowd.
"Is the rebel happening here?" She wonders aloud.
"County lord An is yet to take a side," So tells her. He appears suddenly, quite footed as he always is. His hand is placed at her back in a reassuring gesture. "Or yet to openly oppose his king," he mutters in her ear. "Shall we?"
His eyes flick instantly to the boy, and Soo realizes that those men who attacked prince Rui might have had their orders from lord An. Just because he was yet to take part in the rebellion did not mean that he would exactly oppose the sentiment.
Soo nods, and allows an eccentric Rui to drag her towards sweet vendors. They sell sugar floss that made your tongue green after eating. Or doughnuts fried and soaked in sugar syrup.
"We can stick him to a pole and carry him back," So comments dispassionately as he watches the boy stuffing himself with floss. "Stay away!" He adds hurriedly when Rui makes an attempt to offer him some. Soo laughs, licking the last of floss from her finger tips.
"Aren't you supposed to meet someone, Wangjanim?"
So tears his eyes away from her sugary lips.
"He will find us." He says.
With his mask and the two guards trailing behind them, they did make quite a distinguishable party. Yet Soo did not believe his words. The sun was dipping low on the sky, they had spent a number of hours moving through the streets. It did not look like the fourth prince's contact was in mind of meeting them.
"Come," she tells Rui, and gets hold of his sticky hand. "Are you sure, your highness?" She adds in undertone. There is a faint frown between So's brows, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't tell anyone we are coming?" He asks off handedly.
"I haven't written to anyone in a while."
His frown deepens a little and she notices he is watching over her shoulder. Her grip on Rui tightens almost certain that there is someone in the corner of the street, watching. So bends and scoops Rui up swiftly, carrying him on his shoulders. The boy whoops and claps, suddenly able to see over the heads of the moving crowd. So holds out his hand for her.
"Wife," he says with a smile.
Her heart flips, caught in the moment. The setting sun lights him from behind, bringing out hints of copper in his hair, and glittering in his eyes. "I have a promise to keep, the best of silk I believe you said?"
This is a guise, Soo tells herself. An act - a charade - she could conjure several synonyms, yet the pounding of her heart won't subside. His fingers are warm and gentle, entwined with hers. She could feel his calloused palm pressed against hers. The unconscious circles his thumb draws on the back of her hand. So steers them towards a particular shop.
The salesman nods a greeting, beaming as he realizes the noble status of his visitors. Soo notices vaguely that they had lost the two guards somehow during the walk. Certainly they must be watching, yet he could no longer point them out.
"Jade silk," So suggests. "For the lady..."
He gestures for her to peruse them, and focuses instead on keeping Rui's sticky hands away from the precious bolts of silk. For the life of her Soo cannot focus on the silk, they are indeed lovely, and has the most luxurious feel to them, yet she is much too aware of the impending doom, too aware of the man behind her.
"Did you choose anything?" He asks her absentmindedly and moves as if to pay. Instead of coins, he hands the shop keeper a jade tally. The man's hands tremble.
"I believe you recognize me?" So inquires.
"Yes, Wangjanim." The man chokes. "The forth prince."
"Do you have it?"
The man is agitated, sweat gathers at his brow, he wipes it off with the back of his hand.
"I did not get it," he replies. "The messenger did not come. Lord An is in the look out for traitors passing through. He must have got caught. I - I cannot be caught having this conversation."
So watches him with hard eyes. "Do you have anything else for me?"
The man delays a moment longer. Then nods and retrieves a small bolt of silk from the inside of his shop.
"The message is inside. It's been a while, no one came to take it."
"We shall not bother you anymore," So says in a clipped tone. "Wife," he nods to her and stays behind until she and Rui had left the shop.
"Your highness shouldn't have brought them," the shop keeper's voice trails after her. "The city isn't safe."

Notes:

As I said before there's a one more member to this travel party. We are about to recruit him. ;-)
Do share your thoughts, thank you for reading!

Chapter 13: Monster

Summary:

She cannot turn away from him lest he wears blood of them all.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Soo catches only a scrap of those last words.


"Your highness shouldn't -" the flooding crowd swallows her. People rushing towards and past her in a frenzy are suddenly upon them; Soo grips Rui's hand tightly, bending down to grab his shoulder as well when a man bustling off sends them almost toppling to the ground.


"Here - come," she grabs him and pulls him closer, reminded of how a much younger version of Ha Jin had clutched to her brother in a flood of spectators at the end of a  particularly crowded football match.

The boy throws his bony arms around her middle and buries his face against her stomach; Soo allows the crowd to steer them craning her neck in the meantime looking for any signs of So, or any indication as to what had stirred those once calm streets.


A woman elbows her across the nose and her vision blurs for a moment. A little misstep sends her fumbling over a stall of earthenware.


"Forgive me, lady -" offers the woman who had elbowed her. Offering a rough, browned arm to help her up. She dusts off her blouse with a cautious hand.

Soo barely understands her, relaying more on gestures than actual words. She nods hastily. The woman glances over her shoulder and blanches, gathering her skirts she hurries along getting dissolved in the rapidly moving crowd.


With faces blanched in fear and hurried feet they pause for no one; gathering momentum as they move the crowd keep pushing them forward.

Rui clings to her; his sugary hands leaving sticky stains on her Chima, he clings to her so fast that Soo barely manages to stride forward. With effort she hoists him up, holding him tucked to her side. Her knees protest at the sudden addition of weight and her feet wobbles.

It takes barely a shove against her back to send her toppling forward to crash against yet another stall. The crash makes a mighty echo. Finally, she notices the reason for their sudden flight.


There are people chasing after them, sprinting above through the titled roofs instead of losing their speed in the jammed crowd. Their drawn blades catch the setting sun and glitter. Soo notices them, because one decides to jump down into the crowd beside her; another of his companions follow, his sword drawn and pointed at her.


"Halt!" He bellows, over the heads of the rushing people.

"HALT!"


The throng comes to a scattering halt, slowly losing its momentum. The man is red in face, yet fills himself with an inhale that puffs out his chest self importantly.


"There are traitors among you!" He says loudly. "Traitors you have sheltered - despite clear indications from your benevolent lord An!"


"We shall have each extracted and executed and those who colluded with traitors will fare no better." Says his companion. "The city gates are barred until the search concludes. No one leaves!"


The man turns his gaze towards her just as Rui buries his head against her throat, arms encircling her neck and his tiny body thrown between her and those men of lord An.


"Sister -" he says in a small voice. "Big - scary men -"


His intention, Soo realizes was to smooth away the attention her fall had created. She claps him on the back, pretending to run a consoling hand. But the man's eyes go to her and hold, undeterred by Rui's actions.


"And who must you be?" He asks a leer tugging at his mouth.


Soo brushes her sandy hands on her chima and pushes herself up, carrying Rui with her who manages to stuff his face in her skirts with such convincing manner of a frightened child - they must not see his face - So had been more than clear on that aspect.


With one of her hands dropping to Rui's curly head possessively Soo juts out her chin, looking squarely at the man's eyes.

Fear - So had said - is a weapon. To hand it to your enemy or not, is a choice you have to make.


The man would already notice how their clothing differed from others and know of their different origin. If the trators he sought included their informer - Soo shuddered to think what their reception would be.


"What might a Goryeo person be doing in the county of lord An?"

The man speculates aloud but then his attention is drawn away from her due to some agitation brewing in the crowd. Other men wearing colours that Soo takes to be lord An's break away from the crowd, hauling with them three battered men. One of them kicks his charge into the dust, keeping his shoulder pressed beneath the sole of his shoe. The other two are brought to kneel in the same dust.


"In the name of his imperial majesty -" one of them blabbers, clutching a bloodied brow.

"This is treacherous-"


He is promptly kicked into silence.
"We are discharging imperial duty - how could a county lord -"


The man beside them who is seemingly the leader of lord An's men, grabs the third from his matted, bloody hair, pulling at them until his head is bent back like a bow.


"Stinking rats - that's what you are," he growls. "Sneaking about trying to thwart my lord An's affairs - passing information to who ever pays better!" He moves away, addressing the gathering crowd. "These men who sell our lord for few dirty coins do not deserve your pity!"


The crowd breaks into murmurs, casting dark looks at the three bloodied men. The leader casts them an appreciative eye, malice lighting up his face.


"Step up if you still wish to shield these rats!"
From his belt he unfurls a thick whip, browned with blood dried upon its unforgiving rope. "No traitor will be allowed to leave -"


"You say they sold our lord," one of the older women with greying hair and hands stained of flour speaks abruptly from the crowd.

"Where is the proof?"


Corner of the leaders mouth twitches. He gestures at one of the henchmen with a tilt of his head. They drag the woman over to the kneeling men.


"My son -" she says, indicating one of the three men. "Is a sworn soldier to his majesty. He served with the personal guard of prince Zheng, am I to believe him a traitor at your word?"


The leader cracks his whip. It stings the ground like thunder. Soo cannot help the shudder that rattles her. The whip cracks open that fragile plaster she had put over those memories from her own torture. Darkness crawls from the corners of her vision and she clenches her fists to rid herself that urge to cover her ears.


"Kneel -" he growls. Soo jumps back when the whip makes contact with the older woman's back, a cry is torn from her throat involuntarily as the older woman collapses in a heap. Rui steals a worried look at her white face as Soo covers her trembling lips.

She cannot watch, she cannot breathe - God- oh God- it's lady Oh all over again. The rain - the ache - that all consuming thunder -


Soo doesn't see the leader rounding up on her. Nor does she realize that she had made a disgruntled sound from her throat. He turns and grabs her wrist, she cringes from his touch.


"Do you object - lady from Goryeo? Or are you here to buy secrets from these rats?"
Twisting her arm he turns towards the spectators.


"Here is your proof!" He says. "A foreigner - no friend to his imperial majesty - roams at leisure on your alleys! These rats have brought them here! The foes that waits for our nation to fall so that they could swallow us themselves!"


"This slip of a girl?" That old woman rises her head in distaste, dabbing at the blood trickling from her cut lip. Her eyes burn with hatred. "Is she your supposed foe?"


The leader grits his teeth, his grip on her turning painful. In his other hand the whip cracks again.


"Who do you answer to girl- who is your master?"

Her teeth rattles at the sound. Soo could hear her own exhale ever so loud in her ears. This man has the same malice in his eyes that those inquisitors from bureau of justice had - that same penchant to cause hurt, draw blood -


He draws closer, she could smell stale wine and rotting teeth on his breath. Bile rises in her throat as the whip cracks again. He leaves her wrist in favour of her throat, she chokes long before his hold tightens around her neck. He raises the whip, bloodshot eyes narrowing in sadistic pleasure.


"Answer -" he pauses, mouth agape, having lost the control of his blood thirsty weapon.
Through blurred eyes Soo notices muted shock in the man's face and looks past him into the terrifying fury on So's.

He grabs the other end of the whip, folds it around his hand and clenches his fist - tugging the leader off his feet. He fumbles for a moment, before his grip on the whip is forfeit and he loses his balance crashing on one knee in the same dusty ground as his prisoners.


Around them his henchmen freeze, recognizing the danger yet unaware how to escape it. None of them try to approach their leader.


"Answer?" So repeats softly. There is murder in his eyes.

He unfurls and cracks the whip, cutting its edge on the leader's back. The man collapses against the blow, hurling face first into the dust. So's foot comes in contact with his jaw, and the whip cracks again. The leader splatters blood.


"Do you wish for more answers?"
Soo chokes on a whimper. Rui's arms tightens around her, anchoring her when she wobbles.
"Don't look," she hears his faint voice distantly.

But there is ice in her veins freezing her where she stands. For all she wishes Soo cannot avert her eyes. The more blood he draws the sicker she feels, her head reeling and her stomach churning. Numbly, she realizes that she'd never seen him kill before. And So hadn't even drawn his weapon yet.


With a wet crunch one of the man's collar bones crack beneath his sole and So's mouth twists into a feral sneer. Those other men are yet to approach. When the leader opens his mouth he lets out an animalistic cry.

So presses his foot further until the man is writhing beneath him, his eyes rolling upwards into his skull and mouth foaming from the corners and he laughs.
It is an inhumane, deranged sound. It makes goosebumps dot her arms and hair rise in the back of her neck. He looks at lord An's other men, coiling and uncoiling that whip.


"Pity it is that you will never tell your lord An," he says with deliberate slowness. "What mistake you made."
He whirls so unexpectedly and with such speed that those unsuspecting men of lord An stands no chance. So takes them down with the whip of their own leader, barely aware of the feeble attempts they make to resist.

Fury drives him, with a predatory grace. There is something quite destructive about him, about his lack of self preservation that makes him tenfold as deadly as his opponents. So takes no notice of how they cut him open, where their blades slash against his skin - he wastes no time dodging their attacks. There is no stopping of such man.


Belatedly Soo realizes that she is shaking, fingers pressed against her trembling lips are cold as ice.

She recalls that long gone night at the prayer towers when she had stumbled upon a furious and bloodied So who told her that blood wasn't his - who growled at her that he had killed men, so many of them.


She remembers how resigned he had sounded, how broken he looked. She remembers wondering what could possibly make him do something like that.


Then the visions had come and lured her into darker waters - into that very edge of believing him a monster without reason. He had veered her back when she had recoiled from him.


You cannot turn away from me.


She cannot. Because somewhere down that road, she had become the reason that fueled him. Soo was yet unaware for whom he killed before - for whom he had gone to such lengths that he was unaware of his own gaping wounds. But now, right that moment, he is doing it for her.
And she cannot turn away from him, lest he wear blood of them all. For he was hers with all teeth and claws and his never fading scars. This monster of hers.

Notes:

A special thank you for those who asked for this chapter - your messages kept me going, while I'm going through a very dark and moody phase in my offline life. Much appreciated!
Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to share your thoughts, and lift my spirits.
See you again soon!

Notes:

Take a moment to share your thoughts! It gets lonely here and I love to talk. :-)