Seungri had a strange dream that night. He was standing on an open field, his hands tightly wrapped around the red handle of his sword. He looked frantically around him, ignoring the pain of broken ribs and poisoned cuts. Although he was bleeding in multiple places, there was only one thought in his mind. His feet moved in slow motion towards the center of the battlefield. He saw a flash of blinding white streak through fiery flames. As he came closer he heard a chilling growl—  

            Seungri bolted right up from the bed, his eyes scanning his surroundings. To his surprise he was no longer in the tent, but in a large spacious room decorated in what he thought were the finest textiles he has ever seen. There were hues of oranges, greens, blues, intricate designs woven into the rugs and curtains. While the room showed elegance and was certainly owned by someone of expensive tastes, he appreciated the simple, but regal Greek look of the architecture with its flat white ceilings and long pillars. He sat on a large fluffy bed that faced an open view of a bustling town. A cooling breeze brushed his skin.

            “You’re finally awake,” an amused voice commented lightly.

            On a far corner of the room, a woman sat on a ruby red divan, legs propped up on the cushions. Her hair was elegantly curled to frame her face, streaks of caramel and rosy pink flowing down her shoulders. Dressed in an emerald gown with the looks of an aristocrat, she leisurely popped grapes into from the bowl resting in her lap.

            The woman sighed and walked towards Seungri, tossing the bowl of fruit onto the bed. Seungri stared blankly at her.

            Her eyes formed into half moons, shades of honey reflected in them. She brushed her bangs away from her eyes and grinned, “Grapes are good for you. Eat up.”

            Seungri picked at one of the green ovals, eyeing it suspiciously. After taking a cautious bite, he devoured the rest of the grapes.

            The woman rolled her eyes in amusement and tousled Seungri’s bed hair, “I’m Chaerin by the way, but you can just call me CL.”

  She gave a loud yawn and stretched her arms above her head, “I’ll be right back.”

            Seungri could hear the echoes of her vibrant voice bouncing off the hallway walls. “Hey, the boy’s up! Someone get GD!”

            Jiyong sat on the ledge of a palace window, one of his legs dangling off the edge. The cool wind pleasingly tickled his bare face now that he didn’t have to wear the stiff cover-up necessary in desert travel. A dove sat on a branch next to his shoulders, cooing with every move of the man’s pen. Jiyong’s hands worked quickly on the letter he was writing, his eyes never leaving the page.

            “Jiyong.”

            The bronze-eyed man lifted the letter to his face to read through it one more time.

            “Jiyong.”

            Satisfied with the message, he sealed the letter. Then, taking a small box from his sleeve, he stamped the note with a gold emblem. When Jiyong made a small whistling noise, the bird obediently perched itself on his thigh, sticking out its leg. Jiyong smoothly tied the message to the dove’s leg and carefully took it into his hands. After one loving of the bird’s wings, he pushed it into the air. He watched as it blazed through the blue sky.

            “Jiyong.”

            “Hmm?” Jiyong replied, still watching the dove. It traversed white clouds, vanishing in-between them with ease. Jiyong sighed quietly and then turned to the man standing across from him in the hallway. “What is it, Youngbae?”

            Youngbae gestured behind him with a movement of his head, his all black attire contrasted with the pale peach hue of the palace walls. “It seems your guest is awake.”

            “Really?” Jiyong’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “I’m sure he would have been passed out till tomorrow.”

            The man shrugged, his hair was shaved off, except for the tousle of ebony black that spiked up and streaked down the top of his head. He crossed his arms showing off tanned muscles under his sleeveless shirt. “Guess he’s a fighter.”

            Jiyong nodded in agreement. “Who’s with him right now? Is CL still there?”

            Youngbae grinned, “Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her. She was clamoring for the guards to come find you.”

            The bronze-eyed man stood up, placing the box back into his sleeve. He signaled the other man with his eyes and then started walking down the hallway. Youngbae followed soundlessly next to him.

  “She doesn’t change, does she?” Jiyong commented, placing his hands in his pockets.

            “No, but we wouldn’t have her any other way,” Youngbae laughed, nudging Jiyong with his shoulder as they comfortably walked down the palace hallway.

            “Oh,” Jiyong said, placing a finger on his chin in thought, “We should send Dara to him as well. He was pretty hurt when we found him.”

            Youngbae placed his hands behind his head, “She’s on her way. CL told me about his injuries earlier, so I sent a message before I went to get you.”

  “Good,” Jiyong nodded, “Thank you.”

            The stone floors clanked with every step of Jiyong’s shoes, the sounds echoing around the two friends. Jiyong and Youngbae have known each other for a long time now, longer than they have known Seunghyun or Daesung, but they haven’t had the chance to talk about anything besides war strategies and annoying politics. Jiyong ran his hands along the rough texture of the walls, tracing the sharp scratches of damaged marble. There were two distinct knife marks between blotches of maroon that marred the surface of one of the stone pillars. Jiyong stopped, his eyes shined sadly.

            In fact, they met in this exact same spot twelve years ago, but under very different circumstances. Youngbae placed a hand on Jiyong’s shoulder, their eyes met for a fraction of a second. They continued walking.

            “Do you know his name?” Youngbae asked curiously, nodding to some guards who where making their rounds.

            Jiyong shook his head, “No, he couldn’t talk properly when we found him. He seems harmless though.”

  “You’re too trusting, Jiyong,” Youngbae chided him gently, “He could be a spy or worse, an assassin.”

            “You’re too suspicious,” Jiyong countered, smiling at his friend, “You were both and I turned out fine, didn’t I?”

            Youngbae stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head with a sigh. “You were lucky. I could have—”

            A large boom startled the two companions, shaking the foundation of the palace. They heard loud screams below them. Jiyong hastily looked out at the balcony, rubble and dust blocking his vision. The palace grounds were in chaos, women and children running for cover, men grabbing any weapons they could find. In the corner of his vision, he saw a soldier slash through one of his guards below. Jiyong’s eyes flashed in anger, his fists clenched into tight balls. Youngbae squeezed his friend’s arm tightly, shaking his head with tight lips.

            There was another explosion, this time to their left. Jiyong lost his balance, almost falling into the turmoil beneath them. Youngbae quickly dragged him through an empty hallway, away from the blasts. He looked to his left and right, as alert as a commander of an army should be. Then, as soon as it was clear, the two of them sprinted to a hidden stairway at the corner of the palace. To Youngbae’s relief, two of his guards were hastily making their way towards them. He pushed his friend into their protection, instructing them to get Jiyong into safety.

            There was another bloodcurdling scream, this time even closer. Youngbae knew a rush of men would be soon to follow. Taking a calming breath, he unsheathed two long double-edged daggers from the scabbards crisscrossed on his back.

  His eyes blazed an icy blue. “Jiyong, run.”