Seven Nights Assassin

A nameless assassin is sent to kill the king by order of the Black Lotus, but instead of killing the king the assassin strikes a deal with a princess.

I

Seven years earlier

Kill the king —that is the nameless assassin’s mission.

She rides over fields of green, up a mountain, then down again and through a pine forest, until a great and foreign kingdom comes into view. From the hill she has stopped on she sees the royal palace at the foot of a giant mountain. The palace is known as the Palace of Virtue, a symbol of the throne and home to the royal family. There is a river that runs in front of the palace and several villages have settled by the running water. 

The wind blows past the assassin, as if pushing her forwards, telling her she has to do this. She grips the reins tightly and urges her horse into a gallop as they set off towards the kingdom. She passes through villages that have been raided, the farmers there are poor and suffering.

She has no coins to give them, all she can do is free them from the king’s rule by offering them the king’s head. She rides onwards, passing more villages, none fare any better or worse than the other.

By late evening she has arrived in front of the gates to the Palace of Virtue. The stone walls are tall, looming above her. She dismounts from her horse, and leads her horse to a tree where she ties it.

She leaps over the great wall and lands so softly that not a sound is heard, not even a crunch. Her loose-fitting cotton pants are dark blue like her shirt and vest, her cowl is completely black, allowing her to blend into the dark night. Here she is nothing but a shadow, a passing ghost.

The bow in her hand and the quiver on her hip rustle lightly as she sneaks around the palace, passing through the outer and inner courts, past stone statues, furnaces, royal guards who stand watch, water- and firewood bearers, until she comes upon a great and large lake that has been built by the order of the king.

She peers over the edge and sees dark shadows swimming about in circles, occasionally the fish break through the surface to snatch bugs. The assassin suddenly sees the face of a furious dragon in the water. She takes a step back, cursing, then is off again, searching for the king’s bedchambers.

There is a pavilion built on a small island in the middle of the lake, and a bridge that connects it to the palace grounds. The assassin passes a red gazebo built near the lake. A few minutes later she passes the gazebo again and realises she is lost.

She scratches the nape of her neck as she looks around. She spots a path, slightly hidden by the large trees and bushes around it. She walks along the path until she sees a house standing on its own, there is a furnace beside it, smoke spews from the chimney.

The assassin slings the bow over her shoulder and quietly unsheathes her silver dagger which she has kept hidden beneath her clothes. With careful steps she approaches the entrance, dagger at the ready.

Her eyes flicker left then right as she steps over the threshold. The floorboards squeak beneath her feet and the assassin stops. She stands still, unable to sense movement or life. With a sigh she turns and goes out again, confused.

She walks around the house; to her surprise she sees a woman praying, her head is bowed, pressed to the stone floor. Her bodice is white, and the sleeves are pink with pretty butterflies embroidered onto the woven silk. Her black hair is tied up with a long silver pin shaped like a phoenix.

The assassin pivots, about to flee.

A gasp sounds from behind her and the assassin stands frozen, rooted to the ground like a tree. She makes sure her cowl is covering and nose, then she turns and stares the woman down.

She is beautiful and the assassin suddenly has no words. Her tongue is twisted in , her breath comes heavily, her heart thumps like a drum against her ribcage. All the assassin can do is stare.

The woman’s face is round, eyes wide with childlike awe and curiosity. She watches the assassin carefully, neither afraid nor frightened when she notices the mark of the Black Lotus on the assassin’s chest. The sleeves of the woman’s bodice are so long that they cover her hands. They look heavy, but the woman moves with grace and lightness. She stands, slowly, the skirt is wide around her legs, and the assassin watches, taken aback by how short the woman is, not that the assassin is much taller.

But the woman looks small, fragile like glass, soft like a flower, and her face; warm like the sun.

The assassin is suddenly struck by the realisation that she has not stumbled upon a praying servant, seamstress, or chambermaid —not even a concubine. This woman is royalty, a princess, perhaps?

The woman’s mouth falls open and she approaches the assassin carefully. Her brow is furrowed, and the assassin wants to wipe away that frown, as it does not belong on a face as beautiful as hers.

But that thought vanishes and, quick as lightning, the assassin pulls out her silver dagger and points it at the woman. It is a simple and easy warning, and the assassin will only give the woman one.

It is not her the assassin is here to kill, but if the woman gets in the way then there will be more blood —more blood than necessary.

The assassin steps backwards, still keeping her eyes locked on the woman in front of her, but before she can flee the woman calls out.

«Don’t kill him!» She cries softly.

The assassin is stunned by the woman’s voice, how weak it sounds, how terribly scared she is.

She lowers her dagger, sheathes it, but still keeps it tightly in her hand.

«Him?» The assassin asks, trying to pry more out of the woman.

Does the woman know all the terrible and cruel things the king has done? Then surely she knows and understands why he has to die —why the Black Lotus want his name gone and removed from this earth.

«Do not kill him, the king.» The woman whispers, gathering her robes in her hands and hurries towards the assassin.

She is foolish, very foolish, and the assassin draws forth her silver dagger and points the tip of the blade at the woman’s pale throat.

«Why? Why should he not meet the tip of my blade? Or one of my arrowheads? Or even my hands? I could strangle him while he sleeps like a child, unafraid and unaware…»

«Because he is the King!» The woman cries again, her eyes are clear now and tears come forth, streaming down her cheeks.

The assassin is taken aback, faltering, her hands tremble, and the woman notices. She grabs the assassin’s wrist, the assassin thinks the woman wants to steal the dagger, but instead she keeps the dagger pressed against her neck.

Foolish. Very foolish.

«Do you want to die?» The assassin spits out, trying to pull away, testing the woman’s strength.

«You cannot kill the king.» She cries again, helplessly.

«The King is a man who sits upon a throne all day long doing nothing. And atop his head he wears a crown that is far too big for him. The kingdom is crumbling under his reign, his people are dying, the farmers are starving while he feasts like a hungry lion, stuffing his face in the banquet hall.»

The woman carefully shakes her head, the tears fall from her chin to the ground.

The assassin watches carefully.

«I am the Black Lotus. Here to kill the king. Do not get in my way.»

The assassin pulls away, the woman falls to the ground, bracing herself on her hands. Her fists clench around the short cut grass, she gasps, then stands, calling out again:

«A trade, I offer you a trade!»

«A trade?» The assassin stops and asks. She turns, and like a fool she is rendered speechless again.

The woman gazes at her through her tears. «I will offer you something in return for sparing the king’s life.»

«And what will you offer me?» The assassin is amused and sheaths her dagger, there is a mocking smile hidden behind her cowl.

«My life. I offer you my life instead.»

The assassin remains calm, surprised. Then she is furious. «No. That’s not how it works.» She shakes her head.

«Then what will you do? Do not kill him! Take my life instead!» The woman rushes at the assassin again, and the assassin uses her arms to keep the woman at bay.

«A life for a life does not satisfy the equation.»

«That implies that all life does not hold the same value.» The woman challenges, her frown has hardened, unrelenting, like a fire determined to devour a forest.

«I will not take your life for his.»

«Then take this!» The woman says and begins to remove the silk sash around her middle. Her hands are steady as she goes on to remove the rest of her bodice.

«I do not want your clothes! You are no , and I am not interested in company!» The assassin hisses, grabbing the woman’s arm, then she pulls away. Ashamed.

The woman’s garment is loose around her shoulder, her skin is pale and looks soft to touch. The assassin looks downwards, wanting to bash her head against the dirt in frustration.

«This is silk, you won’t come by any finer silk than this. Give it to the farmers, tell them to sell it at the market!» She presses the sash, which is long and wide, into the assassin’s hands. It is still warm, and the assassin mindlessly runs a finger across the silk. She has never held anything so soft in her hands before, it takes her breath away.

«It will be enough to feed an entire hungry village.» The woman goes on, and holds the assassin’s arm tightly. «Please.»

The assassin swallows a lump in , then gathers enough courage to meet the woman’s gaze.

«Hungry farmers will eat tomorrow. And the day after that, and after that, they will survive the winter and the spring thanks to your kindness. Or perhaps it is simpleminded foolishness,» the assassin rolls up the sash, then places it carefully into a pouch on her hip, «but it will only be enough for a year.»

«I have more. Many gowns. Robes. Skirts. Jackets. And more silk than anyone could ever need or want.»

The assassin watches the woman as she pleads for the king’s life. The assassin is both confused and intrigued, and in the end she decides to indulge in the woman’s request.

«A deal. Between you and me. You will give me something of worth that belongs to you, in return I will not take the king’s life.»

It is a simple deal. But the simpler the deal, the bigger the catch, and the stakes become higher.

The woman looks relieved and is about to embrace the assassin, but the assassin holds up a finger, stopping her.

«But this deal between us will only be for seven years, and in those seven years you must also convince the king to treat his people better. If not, the Black Lotus will claim his name.»

The woman’s breath is shaky, she takes a step back, placing a hand on her head, trying to think.

«Do you accept this deal?» The assassin asks, her voice laced with urgency.

«Yes, I will not break it.»

«Then I will be back in a year, and I will meet you here, at this very spot.»

«What will you want from me then? So I know what to give you…»

«You will know when I meet you again.»

The assassin leaves without another word, vanishing into the dark night. In a year she will be back and the princess will be waiting for her.

II

When the nameless assassin rides back through the pine forest, over the mountain, through fields of green and returns to the Black Lotus’ hideout, she tells them what she has done. The Black Lotus is not impressed. Her masters reprimand her, giving her seven lashes, one for each of the seven years she has promised the woman.

Afterwards, they let the nameless assassin go. Blood runs down her back in red lines, she aches and is sore all over. She eventually goes to sit down on a rock, thinking to herself, wondering why on earth she would humour that woman’s simpleminded request.

The assassin is not weak, certainly not one to give in to the woman’s beauty, so why has she made the deal? Why has she decided to give the woman a chance?

The masters call the nameless assassin back, making her pledge her loyalty to them again, just like she had to do when she was younger and still had a name. Now she is no-one, but if she fails the rites of passage, her name will be returned to her and she will no longer be a nameless assassin or a part of the Black Lotus.

Her name means nothing to her. She does not want it back.

The assassin goes through the rites of passage, demonstrating her bow technique, her hand-to-hand combat and other skills. She finishes successfully and gets to remain nameless. The masters can be cold, cruel, and terribly harsh sometimes, but they can also be kind and forgiving, they welcome the nameless assassin back into the Black Lotus.

They tell the assassin she must honour the woman’s deal and see it through to the end. If the woman is unable to uphold her end of the deal, then the assassin has to kill the king.

The assassin nods stiffly, half her face is hidden by the black cowl. Her grip tightens around her bow, the quiver on her hip rustles as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. She will not fail her masters, will not disappoint them again.

It is only a few days later that the nameless assassin realises that the woman she struck a deal with is actually the king’s adopted daughter; she is a princess, heir to the throne and a kingdom that is about to fall asunder.

There are foul rumours about the king and what he plans to do to the princess, but the nameless assassin decides not to listen.

She curses herself for the trouble she gotten herself into, but she is a nameless assassin, a member of the Black Lotus, which means she is honourable, and loyal, and above all: She is merciful.

The season changes and the leaves fall, flowers wither, snow begins to cover the ground. It is cold, much colder, and the assassin wraps a warm blanket around her body as she stares into a campfire. Around her are the other the Black Lotus assassins, all nameless just like her.

The fire burns red, the firewood crackles, smoke fills the air. The nameless assassin wonders briefly what the princess is doing; she has the sudden urge to stand, ready her horse and ride to the Palace of Virtue just to see her. But the nameless assassin is well disciplined and remains staring into the fire, waiting for the winter to pass.

Spring arrives, the flowers bloom, the forest is b with new life. The nameless assassin hunts and manages to shoot two pheasants which she later cooks for herself and another member of the Black Lotus. She continues hunting, trekking over moors and hills until she spots a small deer grazing in the middle of a field.

The nameless assassin raises her bow as she draws back her arrow, she in a deep breath, aims, and while her eyes are on the deer she pretends for a brief second that the deer is the king. The arrow flies. The deer falls. The nameless assassin has secured another meal for herself and her brethren.

Summer comes early and the temperature rises. The sun sits high in the sky, blazing with warmth and light. The assassins of the Black Lotus remove their vests and roll up their loose-fitting pants. They wade in the cool lake water, playing, pretending they are children again and their names are still theirs.

The nameless assassin sits by the bank, watching her brothers and sisters. She cannot stop thinking about the princess. Soon they will meet again, and the nameless assassin is nervous.

All she wants is to finish her mission, she wants to kill the king. Yes. But the princess is there, blocking her path. The assassin is angry, frustrated at none but herself.

Autumn falls upon them, the leaves are brown and red, it looks as if the forests are on fire. It is beautiful. The nameless assassin takes her chestnut stallion and rides to the foreign kingdom where the Palace of Virtue lies. Her bow, quiver of arrows and silver daggers are a trusty weight on her body. She is ready and will not fail her masters.

She stops on the hill again and sees the Palace of Virtue standing proud in the distance. She sighs, she knows what must happen and urges her horse forwards.

The villages have been rebuilt, stronger, better, and the farmers are happier. They are out in the fields harvesting their crops, getting ready for the long and harsh winter.

But the nameless assassin knows it is not the king who has created this change. She has a feeling that this is the princess’ doing, which is not a part of the deal.

The nameless assassin hops over the palace wall and lands silently on the ground. She secures the cowl over and nose, then makes her way through the courts again, until she eventually reaches the lake where she sees the small island and the pavilion, beside it she spots the red gazebo.

She finds the path. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest, she can feel her stomach soar, her hands shake as she grips her bow tightly. The air is cool around her, the wind is gentle and forgiving.

It is a quiet night. Not even the birds are singing.

The princess is praying again. She is wearing a different bodice and skirt this time. The sleeves are a lighter shade of pink, the skirt is pink as well, the sash around her middle is white like snow. Her hair is braided and tied up with the same silver pin. She turns and smiles gently at the nameless assassin.

She is softer the assassin thinks unabashedly as she takes a step forward. She slings the bow over her shoulder and hides her shaking hands behind her back.

«You are a princess.» The assassin says, standing straighter, puffing out her chest, feigning bravery in the presence of royalty.

«And you are the Black Lotus.» The princess smiles, confusing the assassin. «Are your masters upset?»

There is a playful fire in the princess’ voice which makes the assassin’s heart sing and dance with the flames.

«No. They told me I had to honour the deal, so here I am.» The assassin lowers her gaze. There is a small smile playing on her lips, she is grateful for the cowl which hides half her face.

«I brought more silk.» The princess says proudly and walks past the assassin into the house.

The assassin watches her disappear, then waits, looking around to see if anyone might be spying on them. The princess’ house and bedchamber stands on its own atop a lonely hill. For the moment there are no maids or guards watching.

Perhaps the princess likes being on her own?

A sudden sadness washes over the assassin, she wonders if the princess does not like the royal palace. But the palace is beautiful, grand, a symbol of wealth and power.

She has maids that attend to her every need, a king who dotes on her, court officers who adore her. She has many dresses, robes, and a warm bed, her sheets are probably made of the finest silk…

And if such things do not satisfy her, she probably has a library full of scrolls where she can fill her head with wisdom or drown herself in poetry…

What more could a princess want?

The princess reappears with a large cotton bag. She drops it by the assassin’s feet and opens it, revealing several rolls of different coloured silk. The assassin touches the silk, feeling the soft material against her fingertips.

It will be enough to feed several villages, the farmers can trade the silk at the market for coin, food, or whatever they may desire. The silk is of excellent quality, one would have to be a fool to not see its value.

The assassin takes a deep breath and slings the cotton bag over her shoulder, «has the king gotten any kinder?» the assassin asks, glancing at the princess.

«He is not any worse than he was.»

«But not any better.» The assassin says, unimpressed.

She looks away, seeing the path, hearing it calling to her. But a storm is brewing inside the assassin, she looks back at the princess who is watching her carefully.

The princess waits, expectant, her smile is smaller, shyer.

The nameless assassin sighs. «I know you’re the one who has implemented the changes, I know you’re the one who strengthened the villages. They are happy not because of the king, but because of you, your Highness. The king is still cruel, and the crueler he becomes the more kindness you begin to show.»

The assassin drops the cotton bag. The princess flinches, her smile disappears. Her eyes grow wide with fear as the assassin approaches her.

«Your benevolence does not go unnoticed by the Black Lotus.»

The princess swallows, diverting her eyes, looking at the ground. «Is that why you refuse to kill me?» She whispers.

There is something peculiar about the princess that the nameless assassin cannot comprehend. Whatever it is that the princess wants she is willing to sacrifice her life for it; a good life here at the royal palace.

«Seven years…» The assassin whispers, anger filling her conflicted soul. She wants the princess to succeed so their paths may never cross again, but another part of her wants to kill the cruel and neglectful king.

«The deal still stands. You have seven years to change the king, if not, I will kill him.»

«I will change him.» The princess raises her chin, meeting the nameless assassin’s strong gaze. «And it won’t take me seven years, you’ll see. In the end, you won’t have to kill him.»

It is all terribly confusing and frustrating, and the nameless assassin has not been trained for it. The masters of the Black Lotus have only taught her so much, but not this —not how to talk to princesses or how to refuse them or their wishes.

The nameless assassin picks up the cotton bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

«I will see you again.»

The nameless assassin looks back at the princess. «In a year, yes.» She answers.

«Safe travels.»

The assassin nods stiffly, then walks down the path while the princess remains by the house.

III

The Black Lotus believe in the equilibrium of the world. There is balance everywhere, in all things, and it must be kept.

But the king of a foreign kingdom is a cruel man who threatens the world’s equilibrium so he must be dealt with. 

It is the nameless assassin’s job to get rid of him, kill him, make sure he never breathes again, but the assassin has strayed so far from her path that she is lost.

She remembers her name when she looks up at the sky, but then she recalls why she got rid of it.

To be nameless means one belongs nowhere and everywhere. A Black Lotus assassin is not an assassin because they take lives in the dark, they are an assassin because they become the dark, and when they walk the earth they become the ground, the soil, the path, the footsteps.

And when all is quiet, an assassin must become the silence. And when it rains, an assassin must become the water. And when fire dances, an assassin must become the flames.

To have a name binds one to a place. A king is tied to a throne. The clouds belong in the sky. A fish swims in a pond. A princess is imprisoned in a palace…

The nameless assassin belongs to the Black Lotus, and the Black Lotus is everywhere and nowhere, keeping the balance, keeping the peace, and reclaiming names. And thus the nameless assassin is everywhere and nowhere as well.

When autumn returns, the nameless assassin sets off again. This is the third year. There are questions and thoughts swimming in the assassin’s head. She is curious about the princess, wanting to know why she is so adamant about saving the king. But the biggest question is why she is so willing to sacrifice herself.

The assassin passes the villages by the river. She notices that some of the houses have been burnt down and that most of the fields have turned to ash.

Raiders the nameless assassin guesses and then continues towards the Palace of Virtue.

This time, when she climbs over the palace wall, she jumps onto a court house and makes her way across the roofs, leaping like a cat from house to house.

At one point she stops, searching and notices a house without the top white roof ridge. She reckons that must be where the king sleeps and commits the house to memory.

When she reaches the princess’ lonely house, she finds the princess praying again.

Her bodice is different. This time the sleeves are white like milk, and the bodice is blue like azure. Her skirt is pale green while the sash around her middle is a mixture of all three colours. Her hair is braided again and tied up with the silver pin shaped like a phoenix.

The princess turns to the assassin, smiling. A large cotton bag is by her side. «I have more silk for you.» She announces, gathering the bag in her arms.

She approaches to the assassin with small steps, her smile grows wider, her eyes crinkle. She is proud of herself this time and perhaps it makes the assassin proud as well, but then she feels sadness lingering in the corners of her heart.

«No.» The assassin says simply, shaking her head. «Silk has dropped in value.»

«The silk has dropped?» The princess suddenly drops the bag by the assassin’s feet. She quickly opens the bag, taking out a roll of pink silk, holding it in her hands. «How can that be, silk must be still valuable! Look! Touch it! Feel it! There is nothing softer than this!»

She pushes the roll of silk against the assassin’s chest, making her grunt. Then she pulls back, apologising, the princess’ cheeks blush red, the assassin secures the cowl around and nose, making sure the princess can not see her blushing as well.

«Times change. And with it so does everything else. Silk has dropped in value. I need something else.»

The princess’ eyes go wide, she does not know what else to give her. And so the assassin must make the decision for her.

She looks around, then she looks back at the princess, «I need,» the assassin says, noticing the silver and gold rings dangling from the princess’ ears, «jewellery,» she says.

«Jewellery?» The princess breathes.

The assassin nods.

The princess steps away, the bag of silk suddenly forgotten. «Wait here. I will fetch some.»

While the princess is gone, the assassin hides behind the house, then she walks over to the prayer stones where the princess spends most of her time.

She kneels but does not pray. She has no name so she cannot pray for herself or others. An assassin’s prayer is but empty words carried away by the wind.

Therefore, she indulges herself, thinking about the princess and her innocent and gentle face. And the pretty dresses she wears. And the way she is so willing to do anything for the sake of kindness.

But then the thought strikes the assassin, perhaps the princess is not as kind as she seems?

Perhaps she is not doing this for the king but rather for herself?

The king is cruel, that is why he has to die. The princess is kind. Not for the king’s sake but for her own.

The nameless assassin frowns, then stands, turning, and sees the princess waiting for her. In her hands is a small pouch made from silk with flowers embroidered on it.

«Rings and earrings, necklaces, and pins to keep my hair up.» The princess opens up the bag, showing the assassin all of the pretty shiny jewellery. «Will this be enough?»

The assassin takes the pouch, weighing it in her hands. She nods.

«Yes.» She says softly, then even softer she says: «Thank you.»

The princess is stunned at first, then her smile becomes kind, kinder than anything the assassin has ever seen or known. And she wishes she had not seen it as it makes her want to do things in the princess’ name.

Build kingdoms. Burn kingdoms. Cross rivers, oceans, waters, pull the moon, the sun, and the stars down from the sky —anything for the princess and that kind smile of hers.

«Safe travels.»

When the assassin leaves this time she realises that the deal is unfair. One cannot change a man from his ill ways and a woman should not be the one to attempt such a futile change. The princess is doomed. She will fail and the deal will be broken.

IV

It is the fourth year and the assassin thinks about visiting the princess before autumn arrives.

A troublesome thought has been crossing her mind, it will not let her sleep, and she can barely eat. The thought is so intrusive that the assassin cannot think properly either.

But the assassin fights it, she is strong, has been trained to keep away interfering thoughts, and so she waits patiently for winter, spring, and summer to pass. And when autumn arrives, she rides faster than the wind towards the foreign kingdom.

«Hello again.» The princess says happily. «Jewellery this time as well?»

The assassin nods. «Has the king changed his ways?» She asks as she takes the silk pouch from the princess. She weighs it in her hand and notices that it is much heavier than last time.

«I’m working on it. Times are hard for us right now. There is a kingdom next to ours that is threatening us with war. And the queen is ill, they say she will die soon.»

The princess is not sad, she is worried. And the assassin knows better than to ask so she leaves quickly, almost missing the small and rushed words of the princess:

«Safe travels.»

Winter passes by slowly, the assassin grows restless, like a caged bird destined to fly. When spring comes, the assassin hunts using her bow. She sates her thirst for answers by occupying her time, she swims, she runs, she goes hunting again with one of her sisters, but when summer is suddenly upon her she can no longer fool herself.

The assassin’s curiosity and need for answers gets the better of her. She leads her horse out of the stable, quietly mounts it and rides off in the evening towards the foreign kingdom and the Palace of Virtue.

She leaps over several houses, bow slung over her shoulder, quiver of arrows on her hip, and several silver daggers hidden beneath her deep blue clothes. She becomes a shadow, moving with the dark, straying from the faint light that comes from the lanterns.

The assassin passes the red gazebo and walks up the path towards the princess’ house. She expects to find the princess praying but instead finds no-one.

She should have known. The assassin curses herself, staring down at the prayer stones. But she does not give up. She walks back down the path, staying hidden in the bushes, behind the trees as she searches for the princess.

There is a feast being held in the grand banquet hall that is built on the lake. The assassin sees the king, a robust man with a stern-looking face. His laughter is loud and boisterous, making the assassin grit her teeth and clench her fists.

The princess is there, sitting on a cushion on the floor beside king. Next to him she is tiny. The bodice she is wearing is white, the sleeves are the same shade of purple as the hibiscus plants that grow in the royal garden. Her skirt is a paler shade of the same purple.

Her hair is carefully braided, but some strands of her hair have been left untouched, falling gracefully over her shoulders like running water. Her smile is small, kind, but forced.

The princess’ beauty renders the assassin breathless. Her heart thumps, her hands begin to shake. She reaches for her bow, nocks an arrow into place, but she does not take aim. She waits, watching the king, knowing how easy it would be to just end it all right now.

But the assassin is obedient and knows she cannot do what her heart wants so she waits and waits. She cannot dishonour her deal with the princess.

She remains hidden in the shadows, watching with curiosity, but when she sees the king lean over to whisper in the princess’ ear, the assassin feels fury blazing in her belly.

The princess leaves when the feast is over. Several maids accompany her, but then the princess sends them away and she walks alone along the path towards her house and bedchamber.

There is a tightness in the assassin’s chest, as if someone has grabbed her, holding her firmly. She takes a deep breath, then reveals herself, surprising the princess.

She gasps, «oh,» then her face softens, «it’s you,» she breathes.

The princess looks around, then pulls the assassin to the side, away from prying eyes.

The assassin takes another step back into the shadows, away from the princess. She has suddenly become a coward and all her words and questions have died in . She looks away, turning her back to the princess, dragging her hands through her hair.

The princess titters, the sound makes the assassin’s heart skip a beat.

«Don’t hide.» The princess says with liveliness, beckoning the assassin out of the shadows. «Why are you here? I haven’t prepared anything for you…»

The assassin turns and is met with the princess’ warm smile, and this time it is a true smile, one that manages to make the corners of the assassin’s mouth twitch.

«It’s all right.» The assassin rasps, clearing . «I haven’t come to you as an assassin.»

«Oh? Then who are you?» The princess asks, her voice suddenly taken a more playful tone. «Do you have a name?»

«No. No name.»

«Everyone must have a name.»

«I don’t use mine. I am the Black Lotus.»

«Well, what did they call you before you were with the Black Lotus?»

«I’m not telling you.»

The princess frowns, taken aback. «Why on earth not?»

«Because I do not trust a princess with my name.»

The princess crosses her arms over her chest, pouting and frowning all at once. «Had trouble with princesses before?»

«No.» The assassin breathes.

The princess’ gaze softens and she smiles again, albeit a bit shyly. «I’m probably the only one you’ve had trouble killing.» She kicks lightly at the ground. «Strange, isn’t it?»

«It’s not that I have trouble killing you, it’s just that’s not what I’m here to do.»

The princess hums, then she tells the nameless assassin to meet her outside her house.

They sit outside on the grass, the princess has wrapped a thick blanket around her, keeping away the cold. The assassin remains only in her cotton pants, shirt and vest. It is not too cold, summer nights are forgiving here, but the assassin reckons the princess has sensitive skin.

The night steadily grows darker, but the lanterns hanging from the ceiling illuminates all around them.

«Why are you here?» The princess asks carefully.

The light is soft and flickers upon the princess’ skin, like starlight dancing on her cheeks.

«I need to know why you’re so willing to give your life for the king’s.»

The princess looks away, her face set in a deep frown.

«Because he is the king. My father. I don’t want him to die…» She whispers quietly, unsure of herself.

The assassin knows it is a lie. A bad one at that. She bites her lip, conflicted. Then she abruptly stands and leaves quickly, furious and frustrated. She will ask the princess her question again when they meet for the fifth time, and perhaps then the princess will know better than to lie to an assassin.

V

When the nameless assassin meets the princess for the fifth time she notices that the princess’ clothes are simple, plainer. The assassin looks down at the princess’ sleeves, noticing the complex designs sewn on the soft, expensive silk.

The white robe is wrapped loosely around the princess’ body, only a small knot keeps it tied together. The wind pulls at the silk, revealing the princess’ pale collarbones. She looks up at the nameless assassin, tilting her head, her lips part, a question lingers on her tongue.

The assassin looks away, blushing, knowing she has been caught staring at the princess. She feels guilty, the feeling increases when she realises that the princess is ready for bed.

«Jewellery this time? Or has the value dropped?» The princess asks, her voice with a hint of playfulness.

The assassin glances at the princess, noticing her face; how round and plump her lips are, her white teeth, the beauty mark below her eyebrow and her eyes that shine clear and bright like starlight—

«Makeup.» The assassin says suddenly, having thought too much about the princess’ eyes. «The makeup that you use on your face.»

«It is expensive, yes, but what good will make do for a farmer?» The princess asks slowly, slightly doubtful.

«As you said, it is expensive.»

«Indeed, but— »

«Now.» The assassin says sharply. «Fetch it for me.»

The princess wraps her arms around her body, as if cold. «Why are you suddenly so cruel?» She takes a step back, stumbling slightly. «Is it because of what I said last time we met?»

The assassin gulps, then fixes the cowl covering her nose and mouth. She looks at the princess, then steps closer, holding out her hand. The princess takes it, then stands straighter, meeting the assassin’s gaze.

«I don’t believe your words.» The assassin says softly, feeling the warmth from the princess’ hand seeping into hers.

«What’s not to believe?»

«You’re a princess.»

«I am, what of it?»

«Then why are you so willing to give all of this up?» The assassin asks, gesturing to everything around them; the Palace of Virtue which is the grandest home anyone could ever ask for. «There are thousands out there who dream of what you have, yet all you think of is your own death…»

The princess is quiet as she stares up at the assassin. Her breath grows heavier, her hands begin to shake, and the assassin lets go. But the princess longs to hold on, so she reaches out again, grabbing the assassin’s arm, as if telling her to stay.

«Because I don’t belong.» The princess admits.

Without saying another word, the princess pulls the assassin towards her, the assassin’s fingers mindlessly graze the princess’ hip. The princess shakes her head; it is not that sort of request. The assassin gulps, nodding, then apologises.

They enter the princess’ home. She lets go of the assassin’s hand and disappears into a room, through the thin walls the assassin can see the princess’ silhouette moving about.

She hears a small box being opened. Then the lid snaps closed. The princess reappears with a small silk pouch in her hands. She gently reaches for the assassin and places the pouch in the assassin’s palms.

The princess does not let go, keeping the assassin’s hands in hers. The princess sighs.

«When I was just a child, my father, who was a member of the court, was killed by the king and his men. My mother was later hanged from a bridge. Their crime? Treason. But the queen took pity on me and spared my life by taking me in as her own. I grew up a princess, my home is the Palace of Virtue, yet I don’t belong.

The queen is kind to me, treats me as her own and as a princess. The king is not kind like her. I know he doesn’t see me as his own daughter, to him I am a concubine waiting to be taken. Owned. I am of age, unmarried, promised to no-one. But soon I will be someone I don’t want to be, I will be his…»

«The king cannot do anything to you. Legally you are his daughter.» The assassin says, trying to comfort the princess.

«The king is the law. He can change it to fit his whims and ways. What he wants he gets. What he desires he shall have.» The princess says sadly, then she looks up at the assassin, eyes filled with tears. «I do not want to be a princess.»

«As long as the queen lives, he will not touch you, of that I’m sure.» The assassin says gently and does what she is not supposed to do:

She carefully touches the princess’ cheek with the back of her hand and the princess closes her eyes, sighing softly. She cradles her hand around the assassin’s, then presses a gentle kiss to the inside of the assassin’s wrist.

It is not that sort of a kiss; not one meant to seduce or entice. It is innocent and guileless.

When the princess opens her eyes she does not pull away. «The queen is dying, and when she is gone the king will come after me.»

«Then why did you stop me from killing the king?» The assassin hisses, knowing how cruel those words are, how they throw the blame back at the princess. But the assassin needs to know before she decides what it is she must do.

«Because I thought time would change things! I thought I could change the king’s nature. I thought the queen would live a long life. Then all of a sudden everything began to fall apart, the queen is now sick and the king is looking at me.

When my path crossed with yours, I didn’t want you to kill the king, I wanted you to take my life instead!»

The assassin sighs. «But you didn’t let me kill him, you let the king live!»

«You were the one who came up with the deal.»

«You didn’t have to accept it.» The assassin looks away. «So what is it you want now?» She asks shakily, afraid.

«I want to die.»

The words pain the assassin, as if a thousand daggers have been plunged into her chest. The assassin feels tighten. She wants to rip the cowl off her face so she can breathe, but she does not.

«But I don’t want you to leave.» The princess says quietly, regretfully. «I don’t want to leave you.»

It is then that the princess asks the assassin to stay, not as a nameless Black Lotus assassin, but as her friend.

The assassin leaves quickly without saying a word. She does not trust her tongue, which will say the words that are locked deep inside her heart.

«Safe travels. Come back soon.» The princess whispers behind her, watching the assassin flee.

When winter arrives, word of the queen’s death spreads like wildfire through the kingdoms, eventually reaching the Black Lotus.

VI

The nameless assassin visits the princess before autumn. She sneaks into the Palace of Virtue, leaping from roof to roof. The fish in the lake swim about, occasionally breaking through the water surface to catch red and blue dragonflies.

She passes the red gazebo and walks up the path until she reaches the princess’ home. The furnace is burning, smoke spews from the chimney.

The assassin pulls down her cowl for a brief moment to breathe in the fresh air. She watches as her breath leaves , floating upwards towards the sky. Her chest heaves, she takes a step back, suddenly feeling her limbs growing heavy.

«Is it true? You’re here?» The princess gasps from behind the assassin.

«I heard of the queen’s death.» The assassin pivots. «I offer you my condolences… Do you still not want to be queen?» She asks.

All is quiet between them. The princess, who is dressed in a white bodice with flowers embroidered around her chest and a wide light blue skirt flowing out around her feet, shakes her head.

She takes a step forward, then another, she gathers her skirt in her hands and then sprints towards the assassin, «no…» she cries, flinging her arms around the assassin’s shoulders. «No! Take me away from here. Please.»

«I cannot do that. I belong everywhere and nowhere. There is no life for you with me, I am the Black Lotus.»

«Then I give you my life. Take it. End it. Please.» The princess begs. «I don’t want to live. I’ve wasted seven years of my life by accepting this deal of yours. It’s not fair.»

«Don’t say that.» The assassin huffs, pulling away.

With some quick thinking, the assassin says:

«Whatever happens, in the end I will kill the king. You cannot change him, therefore he will die. You will be free of him.»

«But that will make me queen!» The princess cries, voice on the brink of breaking. «Do you not understand? I don’t want this! I never wanted it!» She says, then tugs at her bodice which is woven from the finest silk.

She unties the sash around her middle and throws it on the ground. She begins to tear at the rest of her bodice and skirt, ripping it at the seams. It comes apart slowly, the princess’ leg suddenly slips free of the skirt and the bodice falls from the princess’ shoulders.

«Stop!» The assassin says, grabbing the princess’ hands. «Your Highness! Control yourself!»

«Don’t call me that!» The princess sobs. «Don’t give me a name which doesn’t belong to me, I was not born a princess and I never will be one! This name has been given to me falsely!»

The assassin holds the princess as she cries. She gently and carefully pulls the bodice over the princess’ pale shoulders, protecting her modesty, then she helps the princess inside the house, tucking her into bed.

«I don’t want this. Any of it.» The princess whispers, her voice hoarse from crying.

She reaches for the assassin’s hand, then she pulls her closer, until the assassin is leaning over her, and the princess smiles, but it is a pained sort of smile.

«Can’t you take me with you?»

«You know I can’t.»

The princess shakes her head. «I know you can’t because you’re the Black Lotus. But what if you weren’t?»

«I can’t.» The nameless assassin says quickly, then leaves.

She mounts her horse and sets off towards the Black Lotus, and while she rides through the pine forest she begins to wonder what it is she truly wants. And she begins to think about a life beyond the Black Lotus.

On her way back, the nameless assassin hunts for pheasants, managing to shoot four straight through the eyes.

When she is finally back with the Black Lotus, her brothers and sisters ask where she has been, the assassin answers by saying she has been hunting, showing them the dead pheasants.

The assassin sits down on a rock, plucking the feathers off the birds. She looks around, seeing her brothers and sisters training. Some are sparring, others are shooting at the pine cones hanging in the trees.

They have been with the Black Lotus ever since they were small. The Black Lotus had taken them in when they were children without parents or homes. They are merciful, her masters, they give the children hope, teach them, train them, they offer them a life and importance.

The nameless assassin had lost her brother by blood, her last living relative, in a tragic fire. Afterwards she had been wandering the streets alone until a master of the Black Lotus found her and asked if she was alone, to which the nameless assassin just nodded her head.

Under the Black Lotus’ tutelage they have all grown up to become deadly assassins who keep the world’s equilibrium. They are killers, murderers, all for the sake of peace and balance.

In the muddy water a flower will eventually bloom…

The nameless assassin begins to wonder if life can be more than just killing…

She wonders if she has a choice…

The nameless assassin begins to think about taking back her name…

It is autumn.

When the nameless assassin meets the princess for the sixth time she knows exactly what it is she wants.

«I want the pin which keeps your hair up.»

The princess blinks, then calmly reaches behind her head, dragging her fingertips along the long silver pin shaped like a bird. Then she grips it tightly and pulls it out agonisingly slowly. Her hair tumbles freely in waves down her back and over her shoulders.

«Here.» She says softly, handing the pin over to the assassin. It is heavier than the assassin had thought. «May it feed at least one hungry farmer and their family.»

The nameless assassin turns the pin over in her hand, then runs a finger along the head of the phoenix. She swallows thickly.

«It’s not for a farmer.» She admits guiltily. «I just wanted to see you with your hair down.»

The princess looks away, her cheeks burning red.

«Is that all you want?»

The assassin kneels beside the princess who had been praying before the assassin appeared.

«For the first time in my life I wanted to do something for myself…»

«That’s terribly selfish of you.»

The princess’ voice is strong and harsh, but when the assassin glances at her, the princess’ smile is playful and kind.

«I know.» The assassin admits. «But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.»

«And what were these thoughts you had of me? Or do I even want to know?»

«It’s not like that.» The assassin stands, towering over the princess. «I just wanted to know what it felt like to do something purely for myself.»

«And what did you feel?» The princess breathes, interested.

«Good. It made me feel good.»

«So you’ll do it again, I suppose. I don’t dare think what you’ll ask me next time we meet.»

The assassin is about to leave when the princess abruptly turns, grabbing the assassin’s hand, halting her. «Wait. Will the farmers starve? If you’re not giving them my hairpin at least let me give you something else.»

She slips all the jade bracelets off her wrists and the ivory rings from her fingers, then places them in the assassin’s hands.

«Here. Give these to someone who can make more use of them than I can.»

The assassin curls her hand around the expensive jewellery. «I will see you in a year.»

«No.» The princess shakes her head. «Don’t come back. I think, the deal is over, kill the king.»

The assassin frowns. «That’ll make you queen. That’s not what you want.»

«Then take me with you.» The princess pleads.

«You know I can’t.» The assassin answers, pained. «The deal still stands. I will see you in a year.»

If the king does not die then the princess will be his bride. But if the princess is out of reach the king cannot touch her.

As the the nameless assassin rides back to the Black Lotus she hatches a plan.

VII

A sister stops the nameless assassin before she leaves to meet the princess for the seventh time.

«Do not go.» The sister says, breaking the silence. «There is chaos.»

«Chaos?» The assassin asks aloud, turning from her horse to face her sister.

«The foreign kingdom’s queen is dead. But the king has picked a new bride. Not all are happy. As far as I and the Black Lotus are concerned, the king has doomed himself. The farmers are tired of him, they will kill him, flog him, hang him, slit his throat, perhaps drive a knife through his heart, either way, he will die. There is no need for you to ride to the kingdom to kill him. He has secured his own death.»

The nameless assassin ignores her sister’s words and goes back to readying her horse. Then she goes to ready another. She makes sure she has enough arrows in her quiver and that her bow is not damaged. Her silver daggers have recently been sharpened and can easily cut through skin, all the way down to the bone if need be.

This time the assassin has also prepared a large sack filled with cotton blankets and clothes.

«Did you not hear what I just said?» The sister is still behind the assassin, urging her to stay. 

«Out of my way.» The nameless assassin says, turning, then her sister pushes her back, pressing a blade against .

«Do not go to her.»

«What are you talking about?»

«Do not think that I don’t know. Or that the masters are unaware either. I saw you sneak off when you were supposed to be asleep.» The sister hisses quietly.

«Did you tell the masters?»

«I had to. Only I and the masters know. The rest of our brothers and sisters do not.» The sister releases her hold on the assassin, pulls away, and sheaths the dagger. «The masters will ask you to complete the rites of passage again. You will complete it, I am sure, but you have disappointed the them. Again.»

The assassin sighs, then pulls down the cowl which hides half her face.

«Have you ever thought about anything other than the Black Lotus?»

«I don’t know what you’re talking about… And I’m slightly worried as to where you got that idea.» The assassin’s sister steps closer. «If you leave, your name will be returned to you.» She warns.

«I am aware.»

«Are you sure? Are you truly content with your choice?»

The assassin watches the different emotions flash across her sister’s face. Then the assassin places her hand on her sister’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze.

«I am content with my choice.» The assassin says calmly and bows, a silent farewell to the sister she will never see again.

«Goodbye then… Byulyi…»

The assassin’s movements falter for a second: It is strange to hear one’s name spoken aloud after so many years of being nameless. It is what ties the assassin to the Black Lotus, but now her name is hers and the sacred bond between her and the Black Lotus has been broken.

She rides towards the foreign kingdom to meet the princess, despite knowing how disappointed her masters will be.

The sun is going down in the distance, the grass is orange, it looks as if an ocean of fire is laid out before the assassin. The pine forest is quiet. The wind atop the mountain is strong, blowing through the assassin’s cotton clothes.

When the assassin reaches the Palace of Virtue, she hears a commotion coming from within the king’s bedchambers. She sees maids, eunuchs and advisors scurrying about, trying to avoid the king’s wrath.

While hiding around a corner, the assassin overhears the maids whispering, asking where the princess is. She has disappeared — that is why the king is angry.

The assassin adjusts the sack on her back, slings her bow over her shoulder, tightens the quiver of arrows around her hip and secures her silver daggers beneath her clothes, then she climbs up a house and leaps from roof to roof, as if she has wings on her back.

She sees the island in the middle of the lake and the pavilion erected on top of it. Scrolls hang from the ceiling, red and blue lanterns have been lit. She sees the red gazebo. The princess emerges from a thicket of trees and bushes.

A golden pin holds up the princess’ hair. Her face is pale, three red dots have been painted on her cheeks and forehead. In her hands is a single purple hibiscus flower.

The assassin watches closely, heart in . She leans forwards, taking slow steps across the roof.

Then the assassin sprints, reaching out.

The princess steps into the lake, her red robe floats upwards, spreading out around her like a blooming flower. The fish flee from her, disappearing amongst the rocks. She takes another step. Then another. She floats on her back, face turned upward towards the evening sky.

She closes her eyes and smiles softly, letting the water swallow her. The flower is still in her hand. Then the princess sinks downwards, slowly.

The assassin clenches her teeth, tightens her jaw, jumps down from the roof and runs along the path, past the red gazebo to where the princess has disappeared beneath the surface.

She tosses aside her sack, bow, and quiver of arrows, then makes her way into the lake, the water sloshes around her, the assassin reaches for the princess, grabbing her red robe. The assassin pulls her up with all the force she can muster.

The princess gasps, sputters, and clings to the assassin, the flower still in her hand.

The princess’ face is wet and the three red dots on her cheeks and forehead slowly disappear as the water runs off her.

They hold onto each other, both surprised and scared. The assassin pulls her away from the water and up to the path. They hide in the bushes. The assassin wipes the water off the princess’ face.

Then the assassin finds the sack she brought with her and pulls out a shirt and pants made from cheap cotton. The assassin holds up the clothes, showing them to the princess, and the princess begins to remove her wet and heavy robe.

The assassin helps the princess into the cotton shirt, she looks relieved to be out of her royal robes. And now the assassin understands why. She looks back at the red silk robe discarded on the grass. She could take it, sell it at the market, but the assassin does not because she knows it is time to let the past stay behind them.

The princess grabs her hand suddenly. «Do you know what I prayed for the first time we met?» She asks.

The assassin shakes her head.

«I prayed to be saved from this cursed life. Whatever form it took. Every time you met me I was praying, and every time I wished to be freed from this life.»

The princess smiles, tying a white sash around her middle. She glances at the assassin.

«I prayed again when you left after our sixth meeting. But it was a different prayer. I hoped you would come back to me, even when I told you not to.»

She stands, thanking the assassin for the clothes.

«You are an honourable assassin, but I am not an honourable princess. Had I died, I would’ve broken the deal,» the princess sighs, «this is the seventh year. Ask me, tell me what it is you want from me this time.»

The assassin gazes up at the princess, is tight, trying to stop the words from leaving , but then it all lifts, becoming lighter, and the assassin can breathe.

«Your name, your true name, the one your parents gave you.»

«My name?» The princess sputters. «It is Kim Yongsun.»

Then the princess grabs the assassin’s hands, urging her to stand as well.

«Tell me yours, please, I need to know.»

«Soon.»

«Truly? Will I really know?»

«Yes. I am no longer an assassin.»

«You left?»

«I left and I do not intend to go back, thus I have reclaimed my name.»

«Reclaimed it?»

The assassin holds on to the princess’ hand, pulling her along the path to where two horses await them, then she turns to the princess, speaking over her shoulder:

«The Black Lotus took my name from me when I was a child, they taught me how to be a nameless assassin, equipping me with skills that make me deadly. I have done unforgivable things, committed crimes that would get me hanged in most kingdoms.»

«But you were just a child?»

«We all were.»

«And now you’re taking back your name.» The princess whispers carefully, afraid. «Won’t they be angry? Won’t they come after you?»

«The Black Lotus is not like the king. My masters do not hold a grudge, they are only disappointed. My brothers and sisters might look for me, some think I will return, but I cannot go back. I am no longer nameless, no longer one of them. The king, on the other hand, will hunt you down, he is the one to worry about. Here. Let me assist you.»

The assassin helps the princess climb over the wall. She unties the horses waiting for them and hands the reigns to one of the horses to the princess.

«You’re taking me with you?» The princess asks with stars and hope in her eyes. 

«Yes.»

«Even when you told me you wouldn’t? That you couldn’t?»

«I was nameless then. Now I am— » The assassin struggles to find the words, there is a knot in her tongue, uncomfortable, tasting like poison. She cannot spit it out.

But the princess is kind, and she shows the assassin that very same kindness now.

«Thank you.» She says and holds the assassin’s hand, squeezing it softly.

They mount their horses and ride off into the dark, leaving the Palace of Virtue and their past lives behind them. The night is cold and quiet. Only the sound of thundering horse hooves clashing against the ground can be heard…