She was in his arms. As always.

 

A soft breeze picked up, carrying its song swiftly through the still nighttime. It encircled them, filling every bit of space with the heavenly music. It was ethereal, magical. It was theirs.
 

They danced, as they had a thousand times before. He was holding her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other clasping her hand close to his heart. The scent of pinewood and sea breeze surrounded her.

 

Yes, it was him.

 

She pressed her cheek to his chest, right above his heart. The steady, rhythmic beating soothed her soul.

 

She felt his embrace tighten as he held her closer. He whispered, “Can I keep you?”

 

She smiled, her heart filled with warmth at the poignant simplicity of his request. Of course. It was always of course.

 

She lifted her head to tell him this. She looked into his eyes, opened …

 

And screamed.

 

“Yooee-ssi! Yooee-ssi!”

 

Han Yooee bolted upright, shaking. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as she tried to calm herself.

 

It was just a dream. The dream. Only this time there had been something else, something different.

 

What was it?

 

She closed her eyes to remember, trying desperately to hold onto that last mist of dreams before it completely left her consciousness. But, as if taunting her, the scenes faded away before her eyes. The dream drifted into a messy blur of images until it was too late to see what she had missed.

 

“Miss, are you okay?”

 

Han Yooee turned to the voice and saw an old woman kneeling by her side. Reality slowly began to sink in. She looked around in the dark, her eyes adjusting to the gloom, and remembered where she was.

 

She was in a room inside the knight’s house, the same room he had brought her to a week ago. She had not closed her eyes that night, fearing he would come and attack her while she was sleeping. But he never came. In the early hours of the morning, an old woman entered her room instead and introduced herself as Yooee’s maid. Yooee was confused. She had been sure the knight had spared her life so he could use her at his every whim. What had he said to her? For a price…

 

But he never touched her.

 

And that only made her more suspicious. In all her life, men had never shown her anything besides malice or tolerance. The only one who had ever shown her kindness…

 

Yooee shook her head. She would not think about that now.

 

“Bad dream, my dear?” asked the old woman.

 

Yooee started. She had forgotten she was not alone. Turning to her companion, she said sheepishly, “The worst yet.”

 

The old woman raised an eyebrow. “Worst? So there have been others before?”

 

Yooee bent her head and fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “Yes, but never like this though.” After a while, she turned to the old woman and asked, “Halmoni, what does it mean to have the same dream? I always have this one dream where I’m dancing with this man but the end always changes. Sometimes, he disappears, or he pushes me away, or he turns to dust in my arms. Tonight, I saw something, but I can’t remember. It was…horrible. I remember feeling terrified.” Then, almost to herself, she whispered, “But what was it? What did I see?”

 

“There is more.”

 

Yooee shook her head. “No, that's it.”

 

The old woman said, “No, my child... My ancestors believed that a recurring dream is Fate telling us something. The dream is one half of the whole message.”

 

Yooee shifted closer. “So there is more to the dream? Is that what you meant earlier?”

 

“Sometimes… Sometimes, the other half of the message comes in another dream, sister to the first one. Other times though it’s what we call déjà vu. The dream is born to life. It becomes real. We live it. We go through every single motion, every single act, just as how it happens in the dream. But when the dream stops, it’s up to us to finish the reality. The final choice is ours.”

 

Yooee nodded. It made sense. “So now all I have to do is wait for another dream or…”

 

The old woman smiled. “My dear, don't wait for something like that. When it happens, you'll know. Waiting for it will just cloud your senses, even make you see something for what it isn't. Just let it come. It will come in its time.”

 

“But what did I see? There was something…” Yooee bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to remember. Finally an image flashed before her. “Water and blood. Water and blood…”

 

The old woman gasped. Yooee turned to her and saw that she had gone pale. “Halmoni, what’s wrong?”

 

After a pause of silence, she finally looked up and met Yooee’s eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear. That means… That means...”

 

“Yes?” Yooee said, touching her arm.

 

The old woman’s eyes seemed to bore into her soul. In a low whisper, she said, “That means death.”

 

~

Son Dongwoon faced the King of Ilsan squarely, a mere five feet of flat wood separating them. Looking at the man’s distorted expression, Dongwoon knew the King was seriously contemplating chopping all of the five feet just to get to him and knock him off his seat. That is, if he could.

 

The King had gotten old. And it was not just simply due to the passing of time. Dongwoon knew guilt played a large part in it. Guilt, it seemed, had a way of eating at a person’s soul and leaving behind only a semblance of the man. King DongMin was one such man.
 

“The clans do not want bloodshed where blood is not due,” Dongwoon repeated calmly.

 

Earlier in the month, King DongMin, armed with a war plan, had approached the leaders of the twelve clans bordering the kingdom of Ilsan. His target: Seoul. The clan leaders had told the King they would think about it but behind his back they had laughed at him. The old fool. Anger the giant tiger that was Seoul for no reason? Clans did not have armies; they had defenders—citizens who would fight only when necessary. Unlike a soldier who did as told, a normal villager needed a reason to pick up his sword. And in the minds of the clan leaders, Seoul had not given them a reason.

 

That morning, the most powerful of the leaders had told Son Dongwoon what the clans had decided. Now, he was tasked to deliver the unpleasant message to the King of Ilsan.

 

The veins on the King’s neck bulged as he sputtered angrily, “Then you tell those spineless idiots that there will be bloodshed on their lands if we do not stop that…that…that…spawn of the devil before he gets to us! Those weak bastards can rot to hell for all I care! But we must fight now!”

 

Dongwoon leaned forward, his palms open on the table. “My King, I understand you. But hear me. Our army is not vast enough to subdue Seoul. If we attack now, with the numbers that we have, quite frankly, it’s suicide. Look at what happened to HanJoo. Their lord ordered an attack on one of the towns bordering Seoul and the  whole town got annihilated! That is exactly why we need the clans. And if they are not with us on this, and we bring Seoul’s forces to our gates by attacking first, Ilsan will die.”

 

King DongMin stood up furiously, sending his chair toppling to the floor. “Can’t they see?! Am I the only one who has a brain here?! That Yongguk brat has been buying his time, waiting for the ripe moment to strike! He claims he only orders defensive strikes? Defensive, my . He’s been waiting to see me grow old, thinking that that will make me weaker, so he can dance around my kingdom and claim it as his own!”

 

“Pardon me, My King…”

 

Both men turned to the sound of the high-pitched voice.

 

A man stepped out from the shadows and approached the King slowly. Skinny and with a shaved head, he was wearing the gray robes of the local monks. He walked cautiously towards the King of Ilsan, his hands clasped in front of him, as if in constant prayer.

 

“Pardon me, My King, for having overheard your conversation. I was just passing by. I cannot help but offer you, Great King, some piece of wisdom, if you may,” the monk said softly, deliberately.

 

King DongMin frowned. He did not like being told what to do. But he was a superstitious man. If he rebuffed a monk… “What is it?” he said gruffly.

 

The monk his lips. “History tells us, My King, that there are only two forces powerful enough to merge warring kingdoms. If by sword you cannot conquer…”

 

A fiendish smile slowly formed on the King’s face.

 

“…by matrimony you shall unite.”

 

~

 

One week later

Kim Himchan, the High King's right hand man, looked outside the carriage’s window and said to no one in particular, “Do you know why he suddenly invited us?”

 

Youngjae shrugged. “I just hope it’s not an ambush.”

 

Himchan turned to face the King of Seoul. “Will you be okay to see him, brother? After fifteen years…”

 

Yongguk smiled. “I’m fine, Himchan-ah. Don’t worry about me.” He looked at his hands and said worriedly, “I just hope I did not make a mistake by bringing Junhong with us.”

 

Youngjae said gravely, “He needs to be with us. If he found out we went to Ilsan by ourselves…”

 

“He’ll never forgive us,” Himchan finished for him. Silence filled the cabin, his words hanging like a portent in the air.

 

After a while, Yongguk said, “He’s standing guard in the woods?”

 

Youngjae nodded. “He and Jongup probably have five hundred men surrounding Ilsan’s walls by now. A dozen others stationed at the guard posts. We sound the alarm and all hell will break loose on that city. And three dozen men will flank you at all times, brother.”

 

Yongguk shook his head. “I do not need that many, Youngjae-ah.”

 

“I’m sorry, brother,” Youngjae said, his voice tinged with sadness. “Your father thought the same. I will die before I let the same fate befall you.”

 

Himchan nodded in solemn agreement and stared outside the window. Remembering.

 

~

Choi Junhong closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The time had finally come. He had waited a lifetime for this moment, dreamed of it a million times.

 

This was his reason.

 

He opened his eyes and stared at the cement wall. In his mind the city appeared before him as clearly as it would have had the wall not been there. He had every street, every corner memorized. True, a lot of changes had taken place over the years, but that did not stop him from knowing his way around even the narrowest alley. What he could not remember from his childhood he learned through his visits.

 

No one knew of his nocturnal trips. He made sure of it. He reveled in the secrecy, the unawareness. He wanted them unsuspecting, just like a clueless prey grazing leisurely in the predator's domain. He needed to catch them at their most moment. He had to make sure of that.

 

It was the only way he would finally do right by her.

 

He looked up to the heavens, begging for absolution.

 

Noona, this is for you.

 

The clouds rolled in and obliterated the sun and all traces of light until all that was left were the shadows in the wind.

 

~

 

Inside the large throne room of the Palace of Ilsan, the two kings sat at opposite heads of the long table. On one side of it were the twelve clan leaders and facing them were Seoul’s representatives. Both parties were eyeing the other with suspicion. Underneath the table, all men had hands poised over their swords.

 

Tension sliced through the heavy silence.

 

Finally, King DongMin cleared his throat. “Welcome, my dear friends, welcome! I have asked all of you to be present today, as I have a very important announcement to make.” He stood up and raised his glass to the King of Seoul. “To you, King Bang Yongguk, good health!”

 

Everyone murmured, “Good health!” Only the people of Seoul had genuine smiles on their faces. The citizens of Ilsan and those of the neighboring clans looked as if they had swallowed a sour fruit.

 

King Yongguk stood up as well and returned the greeting. After everyone had drunk to the kings’ healths, an adviser to the King of Ilsan approached the table.

 

King DongMin took the offered scroll and unwound it. In a loud, booming voice, he proclaimed, “I, Han DongMin, Proprietor of the Highest Seat, Blessed Instrument of the Gods, Great King of Ilsan, propose a most beneficial union between the consecrated kingdoms of Ilsan and Seoul, through the matrimony of one of my daughters to the King of Seoul.” He looked up from what he was reading and beamed at a stunned audience, somehow perfectly oblivious to the astonished expressions of his guests. “My good tidings to you, King Yongguk! May you have a prosperous household!”

 

“What the hell? Somebody tell the old man to stop smoking whatever he’s smoking,” muttered Kim Himchan.  Youngjae nudged his foot in warning and turned his attention towards their friend.

 

It was a clever ploy. Youngjae berated himself—he should have seen it coming. He could have warned Yongguk against personally answering the summons. Now they were trapped. If the High King declined, and Youngjae knew he would, the King of Ilsan’s honor would be offended, giving his allies a perfect reason to join forces to avenge him. Youngjae could only think of one way out: Sound the alarm. He moved to push back his chair just to do so, when suddenly King Yongguk's voice checked his action.

 

“Thank you, King DongMin, for thinking so highly of me, for thinking me so worthy enough to hold your daughter’s hand in marriage…”

 

The King of Ilsan smiled widely. He could not believe it. The brat accepted! “It is only—“

 

“…but I have already given my heart.”

 

King DongMin’s smile vanished. “You are rejecting my daughter?” he said slowly, each word spat out as if it were poison.

 

Youngjae turned to Himchan, mouthing, “Now.”

 

King Yongguk shook his head. “On the contrary, King DongMin. I accept your proposal.”

 

Both Himchan and Youngjae stared at their friend in disbelief. Betray Choi Eunji? This was not like him. Yongguk would die defending Eunji's honor. He could not possibly accept another woman over her.

 

The King of Seoul raised his glass, his eyes twinkling with happiness. “I accept your proposal of marriage on behalf of my most trusted champion, Lord Choi Junhong.”

One of King Yongguk’s emissaries choked on his wine, spraying it on the man sitting opposite him. It was a good thing that that man, along with eleven other clan leaders, was busy celebrating in merriment. King Yongguk continued to hold his glass in salute to the King of Ilsan. King DongMin could barely hide his contempt. Himchan looked as if he had eaten a rotten egg. Youngjae just wanted to run away.

 

One man, however, stood motionless as he watched everything unravel. After several seconds, he allowed himself a small smile.

 

Perfect.