Prolog
Until My Hand Doesn't Stand for Goodbye
Byung-yeon had never disobeyed Young. Not once. Not ever in the entire time that they have known each other. Not since that quiet boy had been brought in front of Young and been declared his new friend and playmate.
No matter how stupid the idea, no matter how outrageous the demand. He might argue, he might have tried to reason with Young but eventually he would follow him. It had brought them in more than one dangerous situation and Young to this day regretted the scar on Byung-yeon’s shoulder that was all due to one of Young’a stupider plans. He never knew or dared to ask how he had earned that kind of privilege because he had always feared the answer might be less about respect and more about obedience.
Don't withdraw your sword. I will loose you the moment you put your sword down.
It had been maybe the most naive request he had ever had. But he would have given a lot to just freeze this moment in time. Byung-yeon with that fragile smile in his face and his eyes full of pain. Byung-yeon’s hand usually never wavered around his sword, it was like an extra appendix, but now his knuckles were white around the hilt as if his body refused to disobey Young and keep holding on forever.
From the distance he could already hear more footsteps approaching. The moment the archers arrived it would be over. But Young wanted to savor every last second.
Jeoha.
Don't withdraw your sword! This is a command!
He felt like a child. Desperate and weak and his voice cracked in the middle with the last authority he could muster. As if by the sheer power of his will and his God given right he would be able to reshape the reality of this inevitable tragedy. There had been a time in his life where he believed that he held all the power of the world in his hands.
For not being able to follow your command - I apologize, jeoha.
It took just a moment. Three arrows and one strike of a sword.
Young blinked and he was shoving guards aside and then he was on his knees, desperately cradling Byung-yeon in his arms, pressing shaking fingers to a wound that just wouldn't stop bleeding.
He held Byung-yeon until his breathing slowly stopped and eventually ceased entirely. If it hadn't been for the utter stillness, Young could have almost fooled himself into thinking that Byung-yeon was merely sleeping in his arms.
And then he stayed even after that, with their fingers intertwined so their hands wouldn't grow cold.
Distantly he knew that he was still crying, that there was still a constant stream of tears rolling down his cheeks and he knew the wetness on Byung-yeon’s cheeks was his.
Yeong shivered in his robes, wet with blood and a coldness that felt bigger, felt like it would take a constant residence in his flesh and bones. A coldness coming from the heart.
»Byung-yeon… I still need you, please…«, he whispered pathetically.
He felt like a child again. Back then it had taken a while until he had understood what it truly meant - that his mother wouldn't suddenly appear again as if she had been merely on a trip. It had taken him an even longer time to finally break down crying and it had been an eternity until he finally felt like he shed all tears that have been gathering in him. He thought he'd never stop crying and he felt the same way now.
There was a sadness that couldn’t be expressed in words, a cataclysm, so voracious it swallowed him whole. All it took was one moment, one single moment, and the world was a different darker place and it took only one moment that something was taken away from him that left a big wide gaping hole that could never be filled.
»I still have so much to tell you…«
His fingers were shaking as he he tried to wipe away the blood from the corner of Byung-yeon’s mouth. It only smeared it further.
»Byung-yeon, please… please…« his voice was the voice of a stranger and Young cradled the other closer, as if he could protect him like this, shield him from all that dared to harm him.
But it was too late. The crown prince of the nation, only his father above him, and there had been nothing he could have done to save him. He was forced to watch. Young repeated Byung-yeon’s name like a prayer. There had never been a moment in his life when he wouldn’t answer to his call.
But now he was dead. A violent shudder wrecked his body. Byung-yeon was dead. Byung-yeon was dead.
He barely noticed when there was suddenly a soft hand settling on his shoulder and someone lowered themselves next to him. »Jeoha.«, Yoon-sung said softly, as if he was talking to an upset animal and then more intimately »Young.« like he used to when they were still children.
»You need to let them take him.«
Young shook his head jerkily. »No.« He wouldn’t let them touch Byung-yeon. They would bury him like a traitor, they would treat him like a wasted piece of meat. He would be granted no honors, no funeral, no ceremony.
»I will take care of it. I promise. But when the other guards come I won't be able to do anything. Trust me.« He hadn’t trusted Yoon-sung in a very long time. But when he looked up he was almost shocked to see a nearly identical devastation in the other’s face, only that his tears were still unshed.
Young looked down on Byung-yeon again. It would be the last time he’d see him, so he wanted to memorize it all for a last time. With his life gone, it wasn’t really Byung-yeon anymore.
Young’s grip tightened for a last time around the familiar hand, before he let go for good.
No one talked to him afterwards. He knew that Eunuch Jung was hovering behind the door to his chambers, just waiting to be called but not daring to come closer. Upon entering Young had quickly thrown his gown away. Before he could rip away his white undergarments he was shaken by such an intense wave of nauseas that he barely got it over his shoulder before he simply sunk down to his knees. The sleeves and collar of it were still drenched in Byung-yeon’s blood, as were his hands. He buried his face in them and tried to remember how to breath.
Three days later Yoon-sung asked Young to come with him. They rode with horses in the early morning hours, the sun barely peaking over the horizon, the world muted and desaturated. They both were dressed in dark commoners’ clothing and they had snuck out of the palace without a guard or anyone else noticing. They rode half an hour until they reached the Northern forest and their pace needed to slow into a careful trot, until eventually they left the horses behind and continued by foot.
Young already knew where they were going. It was the forest where they had been playing around as teenagers, going hunting or simply enjoying the hundred of chances to hide. He hadn’t been here for quite some time and it was like entering a different, dreamlike world. By the time they reached their destination Young was out of breath and his vision had been blurring at the edges. He had been fasting for the last three days, kept to his rooms and was barely sleeping and the strain on his body was showing. Yoon-sung let himself fall back and steadied Young with a hand between his shoulder blades. It was as much physical as it was emotional support. He didn't know where their final destination was but the deeper they went, the more Young felt the need to recoil, turn around and simply bury himself again in his room.
Half an hour later and in front of them the forest opened up like a small save nest. At the southern edge a small stream was sneaking its way through the forest, at the opposite side a hill started to rise. It was a glade that looked magical. Young couldn't even imagine how Young found it. The spot was picked with so much care and with such a clear intention that Yeong choked up all over.
The miniature of a burial site for a king.
His eyes were automatically drawn to the center of the glade. Fresh earth framed by a stone circle.
Without Young being present Byung-yeon had been buried. Alone. It was testament of his exhaustion that he could barely muster any anger and instead felt only inclined to weep pathetically like a wronged child in frustration. Deep down he knew that it would have been impossible for him to come. Who knew how many favors and threats Yoon-sung had needed to use to even make this possible without anyone knowing. If his own grandfather had known this would have never been possible. It probably all had needed to be fast.
He should have been the one to choose and prepare it. He should have had a coffin made and he should have enforced a ceremony. Young didn't know what he had expected but standing here facing this complete finality was too much.
His vision swam before his eyes.
He knew that Yoon-sung would come after three days as it was custom. He knew and still nothing could have prepared him for this moment.
»Jeoha?« The hesitant voice pierced through the thick fog his head had been clouded in. A voice he hadn't thought he would hear anytime soon again, a voice he hadn't heard for so long but would always be able to reach him. He looked to his left and there was Ra On appearing like a sweet spirit.
What an irony that he barely wasted a thought on her the last three days even though to save him and her both was the reason they were gathering like this in the forest. For a fleeting second he thought about scolding her for being here, that it was too dangerous, that she should just finally escape - but the moment was gone quickly and replaced by a fragile relief.
»Ra On.« He had missed saying her name, missed how it always startled her a little bit. When he forced himself to smile she just shook her head vehemently, lips pressed into a harsh line and eyes nearly overflowing with tears. She looked as if she had slept as little as him.
»Don’t, jeoha, I don’t need to you to smile for me.« She stood in front of him with her hands awkwardly folded in front of her and her gaze cast downwards.
»You shouldn’t be here.«
»You shouldn’t be here either. But I couldn’t- I couldn’t- I only heard about it afterwards - I-« It was clear that Ra On hadn’t allowed herself to grief just yet and that she was trying to keep it in even now.
Young didn’t say anything, merely pulled her into his arms. For a moment she tensed up, but then she melted into him and began sobbing against his chest, clinging onto him. Young held her through it as she choked out repeatedly how sorry she was, that it had been her fault, that all of it had been her fault and of all people Byung-yeon hadn't deserved to die. He didn't say anything, merely rested his chin on top of her head and kept staring ahead at the fresh brown spot. What would the right words be now anyway? There was nothing he could tell himself to lessen the guilt eating away at him, much less anything he could muster to make Ra On feel better. There was no one to blame or maybe all of them were to blame.
The sun had been peeking out between the clouds this morning, but by now the whole sky was grey and a storm was rumbling in the distance. It would be raining soon.
»How have you been?«, Ra On leaned back a little, searching his face. Young barely heard her question, but he strengthened his hold onto her when she tried to pull away from him. The warmth of her embrace was the only thing keeping him from breaking down all over again. But her comfort would be fleeting. She would need to leave again.
»He is gone, Ra On.«, Young mumbled, his eyes dropping closed as first raindrops started to fall. With the softest sigh she buried herself closer into him, hiding her face against his shoulder. It was not really an answer to the question but all that really needed to be said.
The last funeral he had been attending had been his mother’s. It had been an elaborate ceremony, there were a lot of people attending. The whole city had been in mourning. It had been raining too on that day. It hadn’t made a difference, didn’t console him in any way. Today was the same -
he had blinked - there was the casket -
he had blinked - there was only a hole in the ground -
he had blinked - there was a muddy patch of earth were grass should have been -
He blinked and clung to Ra On harder like she was the last piece keeping him from floating away.
»I thought you would not think of it.«
Ra On had vanished into the forest just like she had suddenly appeared. They haven’t spoken much - after all he wasn’t allowed to know where she was going or where she came from. He had pressed a kiss to her forehead - a silent promise. I will bring you back to me. The words felt different now. But he supposed that the whole world has changed three days ago and the relationship between Ra On and him wasn’t exempt from it.
Yoon-sung and him had ridden back together, but before their ways could separate within the palace the other dragged him towards the little house he had been avoiding so far. Subconsciously he recoiled but Yoon-sung pushed him further. Nothing looked different when they entered and Yeong drew in air sharply. It was too much of a reminder of what he lost.
»They searched through the whole house. But before they did I put some things to safety.« Unperturbed by his silence Yoon-sung pulled out a big box from a cupboard. »I put it back here when they were done. It is Byung-yeon’s belongings.« He placed the box on the low table in the center of the room. »You can decide what to do with it. I think if anyone should be allowed to decide what happens with it, Byung-yeon would have wanted it to be you.«
Every time Yoon-sung said his name Yeong wanted to flinch - his gaze was locked onto the unsuspicious box in front of him.
»Thank you.« He had said it already but he felt like he needed to thank Yoon-sung for a lot of things.
»I did it all for Byung-yeon.«
»No. You did not and I know it. You don’t need to pretend. I treated you unfairly over the last years because I have been afraid. You have been nothing but a loyal friend. I should not have doubted you and for that I am sorry, Yoon-sung.« It needed to be said. He was very tired of leaving things unspoken. There were already enough regrets he carried with himself. He didn’t want to risk Yoon-sung becoming another one.
It wouldn’t be enough to repair their relationship but it was a first step in the right direction. Yoon-sung merely nodded, hovering for an uncertain moment before deciding to leave him alone.
In the eery silence Young looked around, everything was tinged in the cold light of twilight. The house wouldn’t be cleared or touched without his permission. Young tried to avoid the box on the table as long as he possibly could, wandering around, lost in his thoughts until his rain soaked clothing got too cold. Without thinking too much about it, he went to the closet in the back of the room, thrown back in there without care after the room has been searched, were Byung-yeon’s clothes still in the familiar variations of black. He pulled out the robe Young knew Byung-yeon used in his leisure time. The material was soft and well-loved. Without further ado he peeled himself out of his own hanbok, just letting it fall carelessly on the floor before he pulled Byung-yeon’s black robe around himself. It would have been just delusional if he would believe that the fabric still smelled of Byung-yeon - it was freshly washed, untouched for at least a week and went through several hands of guards - but the feeling of it under his fingers was intimately familiar and it settled around his shoulders in a melancholic kind of comfort. He stood there for a while, with the robe drawn close around his body, simply taking it all in. The emptiness and meaninglessness of it all, before his attention was inadvertently drawn back to the box on the table.
Yoon-sung wouldn’t have packed it aside like that if there weren’t things in it that were not supposed to fall into the hands of others.
It would be the last bit. The last piece he would ever get of Byung-yeon. There were a million questions on Young’s head and the only answers he could ever get were in a little box. He wanted to push it away forever. Drag it out. But the magic moment where he felt ready for it would probably never come.
So he sat down and opened the lid.
If you read this then I will not have had the chance to say it to you personally.
I would have never betrayed you.
-
I never believed that there was the chance of a better world, that there could be a King that was not merely a self-proclaimed God above people until I met you. I believe that you can change this world into a better place.
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You always insisted that I am the only person you could trust in the whole world.
For me it is the same. You are my most precious person .
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Please forgive me.
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There is only one thing I wish for - to be able to die as your friend
-
There were a multitude of letters, torn apart, half finished, crossed out, barely readable. A hundred drafts of words asking for forgiveness, trying to explain what apparently could not be explained.
Young’s fingers brushed over the single letters. His breath rattled in his chest as he fought against the tears that threatened to fall again.
There were too many things unsaid, too many regrets to carry. There was still so much he needed to say to Byung-yeon. So many things he wanted to hear of Byung-yeon himself so he could understand them properly. To just have him say Forgive me and answer with There is nothing to forgive.
How scared Byung-yeon must have been all this time. How lonely.
Young could have chased that all away but now there was no time for it anymore. He should be the one asking for forgiveness.
|
Without the pines the wind is silent; |
소나무가 없으면 바람이 없다. 바람이 없으면 소나무는 여전히있다. 너 없이는 내 마음이 무의미하며 내 마음이 죽은 목소리가 없다. 우리가 잠들기 전에 양과 음의 강력한 힘은 무엇인가? |
Prime Minister Kim’s schemes got revealed. A compromise was found with the Baekwoon. Lee Young became Regent as his father had intended and reformed the ministry to his liking. Ra On, pardoned alongside the other rebels, was able to move back into the city and opened a book store.
Young intended to create the world behind the wall he had promised to Byung-yeon.
»I am sorry.« Young sat on the grass in the forest, it was a warm and nice day in spring, the sun was shining and everything was green. The whole forest smelled of wildflowers. It was really a beautiful day.
He could barely feel the warmth.
»For many things.«
It had become a routine for him, that he would come here at least once every couple of weeks, sat down in front of the grave that was now adorned by a circle of stones. He had brought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, as always.
»I will not be able to keep my promise. The doctors do not want to tell me but even the last one that came all the way from the South could not help. They say it is an illness of the heart.«
Three years have passed in which he had tried to push reforms, set at least the corner stones for a better country in which the king was only as powerful as the love of his people.
It had been a slow process and he wasn’t sure if it was to any avail in the end. He had grown weaker gradually - by now he could barely maintain an appetite, suffered from chest pains and fatigue. It would only be a matter of time and he knew it.
»I won’t be able to create the world I have promised to you. But there are other promises I tend to keep.«
Young enjoyed coming here, just sitting down to reminisce like he used to do every morning as if Byung-yeon could actually hear him. Recently he had been getting more fitful dreams. More and more he dreamed of the past and the closer his own death was coming, he relived Byung-yeon’s over and over again.
He dreamed a lot - of the scared, shy boy shoved in front of him. The boy that had refused to talk to him, to talk at all in the first weeks in the palace until slowly, gradually Young had managed to force a smile from him and the first words after being mute for so long. He dreamed of endless days spend together, of sneaking away in between lessons, of running over dewey grass, of sword lessons and wrestling on the training ground. The way Byung-yeon only laughed for him. The way he had been always there whenever Young turned around and how after three years Young still felt his presence lingering.
Young closed his eyes and dreamed of Byung-yeon dozing next to him, with his head leaning against Young’s shoulder.
Ra On looked as always beautiful, but especially now, sitting in her white hanbook at his bedside. Even with her eyes rimmed red and swollen from the tears she must have been shedding whenever he wasn’t watching.
Her hand was delicate in his, but he couldn’t say whether it was warm or cold right now. He’d been drifting in and out of sleep, whenever he opened his eyes again she had been there by his side, smiling down on him.
»Do you believe that we can meet the people we love in another life?«
She leaned down a little to understand him better and pulled up his blanket while doing so with her free hand. »I hope so, jeoha.« Her voice barely wavered as she spoke.
»Do you think…you will be able to search for them?« His eyes felt so heavy but he didn’t want to miss a single second he could be looking longer at her lovely face. He didn’t know if he had been fair to her over all those years. Without ever being able to marry her, he had forced her into a dangerous secret relationship and stolen years from her youth. Years she could have spent finding someone who could truly love her the way she deserved to be loved.
Ra On’s smile grew softer. »If you want to find them enough. There is this legend, my mother used to tell me - that invisible red strings around our fingers tie us to the people our souls are connected to. Like this there is a connection that can never be cut.« She gave his hand a squeeze, nudging her pinky against his pinky as if she could play like this with the invisible string connecting them.
He knew about that story and always liked it. His mother had told it to him as well.
»Were you happy, jeoha?« Ra On asked quietly as if she didn’t really want to hear the answer.
»I have been very happy.« And it was the truth. He had lead a blessed life and even the last three years have not been sad ones. As a regent he had thrived and there hasn’t been a single day that Ra On hadn’t made him a happy man. On some days she had been the only thing keeping him alive and sane.
Happiness hadn’t been the problem. Time had been. There had been never enough of it. Never enough to spent loving the people who were most precious to him. »Have you been happy?«
Ra On didn’t even hesitate for a second. »Very much, jeoha.«
I’m glad, he wanted to say or maybe it was I’m sorry - but he wasn’t sure if the words were coming past his lips. He felt very tired, so he closed his eyes.
And here we go - everything very sad and sappy - I feel like I am so not good with character death since I am not...well 14 and full of emotions anymore. WELL, I hope you enjoy it, the first chapter should be following soonish <3
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