“Hush child, the darkness will rise from the deep
And carry you down into sleep.”

Minho smiled as he felt his mother’s warm voice embrace him as she sang to him. He moved closer to his mother who his head as she continued singing to him words, words that were yet heavy for his guileless self, words that he knew he would understand when the time comes, the words that carried his mother’s true heart.

In the morning, Minho woke up at his mother’s gentle touch who reminded him he had to practise his sword. He got up as quickly as he could and with his mother’s help he put up the practise doll. He practised his sword for a long time, till his little self was heaving from the little movement of his arm. He practised every day like this, taking a little step towards completing his mother’s vengeance, a little step to end the reason for all their grief, a little step towards killing his father.

His mother had been deceived, the man she had loved had robbed her of everything and had ran away in the middle of the night, leaving her nothing but her son. She soon moved away from the busy town, people’s gaze unsettling her disturbed mind more and began living with her son in the small cottage in the woods.

He grew up with her lullaby, grew up with her vengeance filling his heart too, he grew up to be a strong man. He moved out of the cottage when his mother passed away, and sought for the reason for which he now lived.

The man he was searching for, now lived behind strong gates of a castle, the castle for which he had left his mother.

As a way of getting closer to him, Minho joined his army, working hard day and night so that he could reach his goal faster. But the only he ever got was a little glimpse of the King as he was led to his chamber well protected by the Kingsguard.

A year had passed by since he joined the army, a year which was wasted. He travelled back to the cottage where he had buried his mother’s remains. He felt hot, tears of anger lash out as he lay down the flowers on her grave. He spent some time near her grave till his tears had dried. He stood up when he saw a distant trail of smoke rising into the sky.

He followed it and was led to an old house in the woods. He found himself following the trail through the grass to the door, his feet moving on their own accord. He stepped into the house when he found the door unlocked. He followed the light that was piercing through the darkness of the house.

“You search for power.”

Minho found himself face to face to the most beautiful man he had seen. His pale skin was flawless, his ebony hair the silkiest he had ever seen, and he found himself at loss for words at the man’s overwhelming presence.

“You seek for power to set things right, power to fulfill a long held vengeance, a power which I can give.” the man said as he moved closer to Minho.

“How can you help me?” Minho asked when he saw the man approach him.

“Trust in me and my magic.” The man said as he lifted his palms and embraced Minho’s face gently.

Minho felt the man’s warm fingers run along his jaw, as he traced his features with this fingertips. “I don’t have anything to return the favour, just myself and my sword.” Minho spoke when the man had retrieved his fingers from his face.

“Loyalty.” the man said as he cut across Minho’s palm, spilling blood. He made a similar cut along his palm too and linked their palms. When they let go Minho found his palm whole again.

“You can call me Kibum, Minho.”

-

When Minho returned to the castle he was informed that the Knight of the Kingsguard had passed away in the middle of the night. An ailment they informed, an ailment they had never seen before, an ailment that turned the Knight black, an ailment having no cure. As his dying wish he had chosen Minho as the next Knight, the next protector of the King. Minho felt his heart quicken at the opportunity, the opportunity Kibum had promised him.

That night he walked to the King’s chamber, his sword steady in his hand with resolve. He drove it right through the betrayer’s chest, watching the blood flow out and stain the sheet under him. He felt his shoulders sag with relief when all life had left the man. The promise that he had made to his mother, the vengeance was finally complete, the reason behind his grief now lay dead cold.

He left the castle soon, his feet taking the familiar path to his mother’s grave. He lay the flowers that he had brought for her. A restlessness grew within him, and he found himself walking involuntarily away from his mother’s grave.

He found himself in front of the old house, his earlier restlessness subsided.

“Loyalty, only to me.”

Minho closed the door behind him.