[title song: sea - bts]
[will edit tomorrow jskzndj unedited because we die like men]

O N E

Hyemi is merely a child when she must face the crushing realizations of both death and the fact that her father is not who she thought him to be.

The boy’s grip on her is tight, but his breathing is shaky. There is a sword pressed to and the way it pinches at her skin stings. She whimpers. His grip does not relent.

She looks her father in the eye, as she faces death, and she sees nothing there. He stands there, a sword dangling from his palms and a passive look in his eyes, even as the boy’s sword digs a little closer and she holds her breath.

The boy shouts, “Leave my family out of this or else I will kill her, too.”

There is a sort of determination in his tone that makes her stomach curl.

Her father’s expression does not change, and she thinks that will haunt her for the rest of her days.

Her father says, with passive eyes, perhaps even a passive heart, “Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

He doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t tear.

Her pounding heart sinks to the pit of her stomach.

“I’ll kill her!” He screams it, now, almost desperately. "I'll really kill her!"

The sword digs a little deeper and this time the stinging feels a thousand times worse. Warm blood trickles down the skin of her neck and she finds she is too shocked to be afraid.

Her father’s voice rings throughout the empty courtyard, “Do it.”

For a moment, Hyemi truly believes the boy will do it. For a moment, she thinks maybe her father thought he was bluffing, maybe there is a moment of fear in his eyes, worry, concern.

But then she is being tossed aside. She scrambles back, her knees buckling, watching as the boy grips the sword that had been pressed to her neck and charges at her father.

Her father never, not once, looks over at Hyemi. Hyemi can’t help but watch, even as his soldiers swarm in front of her, blocking the boy and her father from view. She catches sight of them, of a boy sprawled out on his back, gasping for air, of her father standing over him, his sword glinting in the moonlight, through the gaps between the fluttering crowd of hanboks before her. The little pebbles beneath her dig deeply into the soft palms of her hands. She is frozen to her spot. She cannot move.

One of the soldiers, one of her father’s more important men, kneels beside her, his dusty boots coming to view. She cannot find it in herself to look at this man, even when he says, “Allow me to you to your room, my lady.”

She hears the faintest sound of metal clashing against metal. She nods almost mechanically.

~.~.~.~.~

It never happened.

She stares at the boy who tried to kill her, his eyes flickering up to meet hers for just a moment—long enough for it to warrant some kind of punishment, really, since he is a mere peasant boy and she is anything but—before his gaze drops to the floor and remains there. Fear pricks at her insides and she can’t shake the feeling. He stands there, behind her father, as if he hadn’t tried to kill her a few days earlier.

Her father says, “This is Kai. He will be serving our family.”

The boy bows, never once meeting her gaze, and her stomach flips at the way her father’s smile thins out, unrelenting eyes pinned on her, waiting and waiting.

“Father—”

His eyes narrow, “Do not ask questions.”

She blinks.

She nods, slowly, bowing to her father. She doesn’t ask questions.

Later, her father enters her chambers—without the boy, thank god—taking a seat, watching her as she slowly seats herself after. Her father’s gaze drops to right below her chin and the cut on her neck stings, a phantom pain of what once was.

“The attack never happened.”

She opens to say something, anything.

Her father cuts her off, “There are more important things to worry about now, Hyemi. You must prepare yourself.”

Then he is up and gone, in a flurry of robes, before she can ever utter another word.

~.~.~.~.~

She watches the way he clings to the shadows, eyes always downcast, always hovering behind her father. One more boy joins his ranks, flanking her father like they are his own personal guards.

(It doesn’t take her long to figure out that they are exactly that—but worse.)

The new boy is an orphan from the capital city who had been caught stealing food. They would have cut his hands off if her father hadn’t stepped in. Xiumin, her father called him, with a fond smile.

(It’s always a fond smile. Even when she catches sight of them bruised and bloody, even when they wield a sword in a way that no peasant child should be able to wield, her father looks on with a fondness and a sternness that reminds her of how he used to look at her. She isn’t quite sure what that means, what any of it means. She is only sure of the way it makes her stomach churn.)

She was never one to observe and neither was she ever keen on politics and studying (nor sewing), choosing instead to riddle her days with paintbrushes, much to her mother’s chagrin before she passed, so maybe the news her father brings, with Kai and Xiumin flanking his sides, is more of surprise than it ever should have been.

Maybe, she should have noticed the untimely death of the newest king. Maybe, she should have noticed her father traveling to the palace more often than before. Maybe, she should have noticed things better. Maybe, then, none of this would have come as such a shock to her.

(Shock is vulnerability and she never wishes to show her vulnerability in front of anyone ever again, especially not the boy who tried to kill her.)

But, she didn’t notice.

And, she must pretend like she is fine—barely a woman, just a year past her first blood—is perfectly fine with an engagement, with no mother to guide her through it. She must pretend she is fine.

Her father, Kai and Xiumin lingering at the threshold of her chambers all the while, tells her, “You have been chosen as the future Crown Princess, congratulations, my daughter.”

(There is something there, in his gaze, something similar to that fondness she had thought was lost long ago, the fondness he occasionally directs at Kai and Xiumin, and it almost makes all this bearable.)

She blinks rapidly, still, opening and closing, no sound coming out, before she manages to ask, “The—The Crown Princess?”

“Yes, I trust you will not disappoint me.”

It’s not a question nor is it a statement. It is a command, an expectation.

So, she shoves that same inexplicable sensation of fear deep, deep inside her, and she nods, “Yes, Father.”

~.~.~.~.~

Corruption, they say, is a disease. Her mother used to commend her on her kindness, her honesty. She used to whisper, you’re such a good girl, and Hyemi used to bask in the praise, smiling as her mother would pat her cheek and smile so lovingly down at her. But, when her mother passed, so did the goodness around her.

(Her father used to say, a long long time ago, on those rare nights where he would share a meal with her and have one drink too many, that her mother was not the only thing that died that night.

She had asked, What do you mean, father?

And, he had murmured, eyes distant, faraway, That is a story for another day.)

She sits perched beneath the cherry blossom tree beyond the walls of their compound. The wind gusts are strong, and the falling petals look just like snow. She has her sketchbook in her lap, but the pages flutter all about, her hair whipping against her face, almost painful against her skin, strands of hair coming undone from her braid. She briefly feels bad for ruining the hard work her court ladies put into her braids.

It’s here, hidden by the branches of the cherry tree, fiddling idly with her unruly hair, in the coming darkness, she learns of the true nature of Kai—and perhaps of Xiumin, too.

She hears it first, a low whine coming from behind her, near the edge of the mountain forest. Her father had warned her to never go there. In fact, her father had warned her to never leave the compound unattended.

She is not a very good listener.

Slowly, she drops her hand to her skirts, fingers the fabric. Her silk skirt drags along mud and dirt and she feels bad for the person who will be tasked with cleaning the horrible mess she is creating. She sighs, pushing those thoughts away—her father always told her, with an eyeroll and an exasperated sigh, that there was no reason to worry about these things, since it is their job to fix it for her. Still, she’d always feel bad—guilty. When she was a little girl, before her mother passed, before Kai tried to kill her, she used to cry about it, much to her father’s annoyance. She used to cry about a lot of things.

Hyemi tucks her book in the crook of her elbow and tiptoes towards the tree line, lifting her skirts above her knees—ignoring the voice in her head that sounds like the court ladies telling her of how unladylike she is being. The sound drifting from the forest reminds her of a wounded animal’s and she is worried and curious, more than anything.

She creeps into the forest, surprisingly quiet, despite the amount of noisy leaves and branches covering the mountain floor.

Corruption, they say, is a disease.

Goodness, she decides, is the thing that had died with her mother, for as she peers around the tree, she catches sight of a raised sword, silver glinting brightly against the beauty of the setting sun. It pierces through the air and the sound of flesh tearing apart at the seams—it is something of a monstrosity, something she won’t ever forget, not really—echoes through the clearing, just as she adjusts to the sight before her, her grip around her skirt tightening. A gasp leaves her lips.

The man’s neck hangs by the skin of his neck, his body tied to the tree trunk. His expression is stuck, forever frozen with pleas. His fingers are still moving, despite everything, as if his own body hasn’t realized its own plight. Wielding the blood sword, his tanned skin glowing beneath the beautiful setting sun, the deep oranges and blues and pinks emphasizing the redness dotting his cheeks, is Kai. She stumbles back, the leaves beneath her feet a thunderous sound that only serves to startle her more.

She drops her sketchbook.

Kai’s hands drop to his side, his dark eyes widening as he looks at her, recognizing her instantly.

There is a moment, there, where all they do is stare at each other. Fear spikes in her chest. She remembers the coolness of the sword against , the way his trembling hands held her so tight, the way he had meant to kill her. For a moment, she imagines herself in his place. A whimper escapes her lips, a product of both shock and immense fear.

That seems to break through the moment of stillness. Kai steps forward, hesitant, blinking rapidly.

She stumbles back, nearly tripping over her skirts. He opens his mouth and she refuses to listen. Fear latches onto her limbs and, for a moment, she is afraid she won’t be able to run. But, the fear lapses just enough for her limbs to move.

She runs, like a wild deer trampling through the woods, she scurries out of there and she vows never to return.

Corruption, they say, is a disease, and perhaps that is why, despite the way the sight of that beheaded man entrenched into her memory, haunting her—the man, she later realizes, was dressed in the red robes of a court official—she doesn’t breathe a word of what she saw to her father.

(There is a new man visiting her father afterwards, a new man in red robes, and her father tells her that the court officials speak favorably of her, now.

It took some convincing, but they now approve.

She finds shame in her relief at his words, because she has a gut feeling of what exactly her father’s methods of convincing entails. She does not question him. She allows her questions to remain there, in that forest. She allows the corruption to latch onto her and she does not reject it. She lets it be.

Whether that is out of fear, or something else, she isn’t sure. But, when Kai locks eyes with her, that night at dinner, she turns away. She doesn’t ask questions. She lets it be.)

~.~.~.~.~

She manages to avoid him—it’s easy when the person she is meant to avoid is only ever supposed to linger in the shadows, out of sight, anyway—until he is no longer in the shadows. He stands with his eyes downcast, respectful as always, lingering near her door, as if he’s prepared to slip out the room, slip into nothingness, like a shadow himself, the moment she looks away.

She can see Xiumin’s shadow reflected onto the paper screen doors, pacing slowly back and forth as a guard should. Her gaze lingers on Kai, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the door, feet shoulder-width apart. In the years since they first met, since he held a sword to her neck, she hasn’t had the chance to properly assess him. It’s been a long time, and the way she sometimes looks in the mirror and finds herself unrecognizable, different, reminiscent strangely enough to the image of her mother she is starting to forget, is the way she looks at Kai. He looks nothing like that vengeful, trembling boy she had fears. She thinks, now, he looks as if he could truly kill her instead of tossing her aside.

Her gaze drops from the black headband to his black robes, his tan skin and the scar along his collarbone, to the hilt of the sword at his hip.

(She imagines it dripping with red blood, at first the blood of the man from the royal council and then—then she imagines that it is her blood on the end of that sword. Her heartrate picks up, fear trickling through her.)

Her father is gone. He hadn’t told her where he went, but there was a look in his eyes as he bid her goodbye, that told her that whatever he was off to do wasn’t good. It’d be beneficial for their family, for her safety when she is Crown Princess, but it must be something akin to what Kai had done to that man in the forest. Her father isn’t capable of anything else but monstrosities like that, she knows. She’s known for a while, she just chooses not to dwell.

She doesn’t ask questions. Usually.

She was never one to involve herself in politics, in the world her father built. He had always told her, do not ask questions, and she indulged him without hesitation (or perhaps in fear of her father’s unrelenting gazes, the way his jaw twitched), but something about all this, about the delay in her initial meeting to finally see the Crown Prince, in the way her father has been meeting with all kinds of men late into the night, in the way Xiumin and Kai would disappear, only to return in the dead of night—a time when she’d be too awake and she’d hear them, since her chambers were so close to the gates. Usually, her instincts would tell her to stay away. Ignorance is bliss, is it not?

But, she can’t help speaking up, then. Even her maids have been dismissed for the night, except for a single maid—the new girl named Seulgi—she had allowed to sleep in the corner, since it was getting late and she usually can’t sleep anyway (and she doubts she’ll be able to sleep with Kai and Xiumin guarding her rooms without bothering to explain why), so she figures one of them might as well sleep tonight. The poor girl seemed frazzled, being all alone in her duties, so Hyemi pretty much ordered her to get some rest.

She can’t help but question, “What is going on?”

Kai seems startled by her voice—in all the years he’s lived in the compound, she’s never once addressed him directly. Kai jolts, feet shuffling against the wooden floors, the sound of his footfalls echoing all around them. Xiumin pauses outside the door, his dark shadow coming to a standstill.

It’s quiet for a long moment before Kai says, his voice surprisingly low, different from how she remembers it, when it was shrill and desperate and screaming for a family she’s sometimes wondered about. There is a deep rumble to it that startles her, makes her realize just how many years have passed since that night.

“Nothing to worry about, my lady.” He says, his dark eyes flickering up to meet hers. She observes his features, the way he seems to be growing into his features, and she finds that part strange, the growing up. She always sees him as a nightmare from her childhood, never progressing, always stuck, but he’s changed, and she isn’t sure whether it’s for the better or for worse. She watches as his expression remains stone-cold and expressionless, under her gaze.

Xiumin starts to pace back and forth again, beyond the door.

Hyemi’s gaze flickers past Kai, at Xiumin’s moving shadow, before she says, softly so as not to wake Seulgi, “Why did my father not take his—his—”

She realizes she does not know what they are to her father. Or, maybe, she does, but she does not want to say. She did witness what he did to that man, after all. Even before then, she’s had an idea. She’s been awake plenty of times when they’d come home (it is their home, now, isn’t it?) and she’d hear a whimper of pain from either Xiumin or Kai, a soft, I will call the physician, hold on, or when she’d hear them leave the compound, whispering of a target very, very briefly.

(Sometimes, she wishes she was still that oblivious little girl with her head stuck in the clouds and her nose pressed to the pages of her sketchbook and paintings. Sometimes, she wishes she could sleep properly at night. It’s how it should be, shouldn’t it? Her father should order these boys to do horrible things for their family and she should reap the benefits without ever thinking about the means her father used to get her where she was.)

Kai’s gaze doesn’t drop, this time, his stony expression unchanging as he finishes her sentence, without hesitation, “Assassins.”

(She wonders if she imagines the blame in his tone. Maybe, it’s her own projection.)

Xiumin stops pacing in the hall.

Hyemi doesn’t know why he keeps staring at her. Perhaps, it’s an attempt to gauge her reactions and figure her out. It’d make sense, since he knows she watched him kill a man, behead him while the sun set so prettily, tainting such a beautiful scene with something so horrible. They both know she knows what he did—what he does. Slowly, she nods, says, nonchalant as ever, “Yes, assassins. But, why did he leave you here with me?”

Kai doesn’t answer.

She starts babbling. Maybe, it’s the silence, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, with this strange sort of pity she doesn’t like. Maybe, it’s the fact that Xiumin isn’t pacing at all anymore. He’s just standing stock-still, obviously eavesdropping at this point, uncaring if she notices because what will she do about it anyway?

“Is he doing something that involves secrecy from even you two? Or…or did he leave you two here because I would, somehow, need you?” She’s thinking out loud, now, but there’s something in the way Kai turns his gaze away, settling his eyes on the floor again, that makes her stomach flip.

It makes her think, maybe that’s why.

“Why would I need you more than he would?” She asks, frowning.

Kai, she notices, is now scowling at the floor.

She opens to say something else, when Kai says, so very quietly, “You’re more talkative than I thought you’d be, my lady.”

His tone is pointed. It makes her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, especially when she hears a snort from beyond the door. She blinks, eyes widening. “It’s not my fault you’re not saying anything!”

Seulgi stirs at the slight rise in her tone. She pauses, watching as Seulgi curls up tightly into a ball beneath the blanket Hyemi draped over her, tugging it close, before she stops squirming.

Hyemi finds the way Kai smiles, ever so slightly, the corner of his lips turned up as he stares at the ground, utterly unnerving. “What does it matter? You’re not supposed to ask questions.”

She blinks, once, twice. “You’re not allowed to speak to me like that.”

She hates how she stutters. He’s right, though. She’s not supposed to be asking him anything. She’s just supposed to let it be and wait for her father to return. She’s supposed to sit there and let her father place the crown on her head and then she’s supposed to give birth to a healthy crown prince of her own, so her father can influence the country through him. That’s how it works.

There’s a pause. And then Kai bows his head, “You’re right. Forgive me, my lady, I was out of line.”

She can’t help the words that spill from her lips, her voice tiny even to her own ears, barely audible, “I just want to know what’s going on.”

Kai doesn’t say anything, no, Xiumin is the one to speak up, instead, his voice loud even through the paper screen door, “It’s better for you if you don’t, my lady.”

Kai lifts his head, watching her. She can feel his eyes boring holes into the side of her head. She doesn’t want to look at him. Everything about him still brings prickles of fear straight through her veins and deep into her bones. She continues staring at her sleeping maid, fingers curling in her lap.

~.~.~.~.~

She doesn’t even startle when she hears a loud bang from the other side of the compound. Seulgi jumps awake, her wide eyes meeting Hyemi’s. Hyemi closes her eyes, briefly, before there’s a shadow looming over her and Seulgi is bent in front of her, hand out, eyes filled with concern and fright.

She looks up and Kai is staring off in the distance, not once looking down at her. Her gaze flickers to the sword at his hip, even as he says, “We must go, my lady.”

She stands, reaching out to holdSeulgi’s hand tightly. Kai doesn’t touch her, doesn’t even look at her, really, but she notices how he slows down for her and Seulgi, steps faltering for them to keep up, even as Xiumin slides her door open, eyes flickering from Hyemi to Seulgi to Kai, an urgency in his gaze that makes her frown.

They move fast, and she needs to hurry to keep up. Xiumin points them through the servant corridors, around the back, gaze settling on her for just a moment. She finds she is staring at him, waiting for something, anything, because she truly has no idea what’s going on and the fear thrums in her veins. Her hands are shaking and not all of it is because of Seulgi’s steel grip on her fingers. Xiumin gives her a small smile, his cheeks puffing out slightly, and though it doesn’t necessarily reach his eyes, there’s something very kind about it. It is strangely reassuring, because there really is no reason for him to give her any such kindness. She has never truly spoken to him, through all the years he’s been in her family’s compound. It is strangely reassuring, even as there’s another bang from outside, louder this time, and then there is a shout, a bark of a command that sends a chill down her back. She cannot understand it, but it is angry, threatening. Her heart races in her chest. Xiumin presses a finger to his mouth, a motion to say quiet, eyes flickering to Kai, before he nods and slinks around the corner, disappearing.

She blinks, even as Seulgi pulls her along, following Kai, his footsteps light and soundless, especially in comparison to theirs.

Kai doesn’t say a word as they weave through the servant quarters and out the back, near the kitchens. There is a moment when there’s a soft sound, the crunch of a footstep, and Kai grabs Hyemi by the arm, pushing her back against one of the compound walls, Seulgi scurrying back with her. His tight grip startles her, her eyes wide, and he does not look back as he waits and waits and waits.

Moments turn to minutes, her heart racing, until his bruising grip on her arm loosens exponentially. She watches as he turns back to her, hand falling away from her skin, and she cannot loosen the fear catching her heart mid-beat. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she is positively terrified. She is so scared.

He must see something there, in her expression, because the stony expression he’s held all this time falls away a bit, softening slightly. His sharp features soften, and she is reminded that he is just a young boy, young like her. She is almost reminded of the young boy from long ago who had sounded so desperate, despite the sword he held to her neck in front of her father, in this very compound. For a moment, he looks as if he wants to say something, but then he spins on his heels and stalks forward, steps cautious but graceful, soundless as ever.

They escape the compound, Seulgi pulling her down behind boulders and bushes that line the side of the mountain, and, for a moment, she is afraid Kai will turn back around and leave them there, alone.

(Hyemi likes to believe that she is truly in control of her emotions. Her father taught her the importance of maintaining a poker face a long, long time ago. Perhaps, it was his way of preparing her for the position of Crown Princess and Future Queen. Perhaps, her father had written her fate in one of his journals long before she ever left her mother’s womb. It had taken more work than she ever cared to admit learning the art of subduing her reactions, forcing it down into the tiniest tick of a jaw, the littlest lilt of her lips. She was never good at it. Never. So, perhaps, that’s why she does it.)

She reaches out and grasps at the ends of his cloak, her fingers curling around the rough material, grip tightening as she looks up at him. Kai freezes, his gaze dropping from the compound down to her. His eyes are illuminated by the full moon above them, the dark-almost-black pupils flickering from her grip on the ends of his cloak—barely imposing, almost as if the moment he takes a step, she will let her fingers fall away, as if she had never even reached for him in the first place—to her face, meeting her eyes for once, to Seulgi, and back, twice over. She slips up in her emotions, unable to hide the panic that grips so tightly at her insides.

If he leaves them here and whoever is here to attack her—clearly they’re here for her father or her and that is a terrifying thought, all on its own, because she never really thought about enemies before, never really had to, but she is the Soon-To-Be-Crown-Princess and this is what that entails, does it not?—slips past Xiumin and Kai, she could…she could be—

She shakes her head, ever-so-slightly, unable to speak. She was never meant to speak anyways. So, she shakes her head, quickly, her chest rising and falling quickly, her breathing slightly ragged.

She expects Kai to ignore her. Why should he let Xiumin fight such a battle alone? Her fears are unfounded, anyway, are they not? Kai is a skilled assassin. No one would ever slip past him or Xiumin.

But, Kai blinks at her, for a moment, his eyes lingering on her face, before he slowly drops to his knees nestling into the bushes and boulders alongside Hyemi and Seulgi’s blunt nails dig into Hyemi’s palms and Hyemi doesn’t mind the slight pain. It is grounding and as Kai settles beside her, she cannot maintain her emotions as well as she wants to.

She grips his robes, tighter this time, and Kai does not shake her off. He does not say a word. He just sits and listens, one hand settling on the hilt of his sword. She fights the urge to hyperventilate all the while, her knees drawn up to her chest, her silk gowns no doubt ruined.

He sits there, beside her, until it is over, and she finds it ironic just how comforting she finds his presence, despite everything. It’s because he is familiar, when the situation around her is anything but. That must be it.

He doesn’t say a word, even after a long while later, when the beginnings of dawn approaches and Xiumin calls out to Kai, voice hoarse, and she is still gripping the ends of his robes tightly. He doesn’t say anything, just blinks down at her, expression blank, and watches as she slowly, carefully, untangles her fingers from his robes. Her fingers are stiff, tight from holding on so tight for so long. She withdraws her hand, sheepish, and his gaze flickers to her curled fingers. And then, he bows his head slightly and she looks away.

He doesn’t say anything as she busies herself with fussing over Seulgi, who shakes her head vigorously and, in turn, fusses over her. He doesn’t say a word. She decides she will follow his example.

~.~.~.~.~

“I wanted to know who their target was. It is obvious, now, and I will take care of the problem. Do not worry and prepare for your meeting with the Crown Prince.” Her father tells her. She pauses, her paintbrush hovering over her unfinished painting.

“Yes, father.” She murmurs, her eyes flickering up to meet her father’s intense gaze.

“Do not disappoint me. This is one of the most important moments of our lives, Hyemi.” Her father states, tone commanding.

She forces herself to return to her painting, her brushstrokes too heavy, the lines jarring against the delicate backdrop she’s already painted. She isn’t quite sure if she’ll be able to salvage it. She’ll just have to keep adding brushstrokes, now, until the lines are too thick, thicker than intended, and then it’ll become everything but what she wanted of it. She stares at the painting.

Her father doesn’t wait for her response, turning away, his footsteps loud and grating against her ears.

She presses another line to her painting, but she hears a bang, too loud, jarring, reminiscent of that night, and she jolts, her paintbrush veering off course, marring her painting, destroying it. Her eyes widen as she looks up and Seulgi, the one who had been with her that night—sweet and kind Seulgi—bows excessively, Hyemi’s supper littering the floor. She presses her forehead to the floor, over and over, and says, “I am so sorry. My mind was wandering, and I deserve to be punished.”

Hyemi blinks, “Please, get up. It’s okay.”

Seulgi pauses, her kind eyes wide. “But…your supper—”

“I can always get more. It’s fine.” Hyemi tells her and Seulgi blinks before bowing, her other maids joining her in cleaning up.

Hyemi looks down at her painting and the brush in her hand is wobbling back and forth. Her hands are shaking, she realizes belatedly. She stares and stares at her hand, wills the trembles to cease, but it does not.

(She is still scared, she realizes, the remnants of fear from that night not quite disappearing.)

Hyemi doesn’t realize just how much time passes until Seulgi is placing her food in front of her—a bowl of soup and a few side dishes. Hyemi blinks, surprised, before she looks up at Seulgi, who has her head bowed.

“Seulgi.” She murmurs. Seulgi looks up. Hyemi doesn’t allow her the chance to respond as she continues, the words slipping from before she can really truly think them through, “Do you think it’ll happen again?”

Seulgi stares at her, her brows furrowing in confusion, “What will happen again, my lady?”

“The attack.” Hyemi is staring intently at Seulgi now.

Seulgi stares back, gaze surprisingly steady now, watchful, “May I be honest with you, my lady?”

Hyemi nods, “Please.”

Then Seulgi nods, her voice so hushed, Hyemi can barely make out her quiet words, “Yes, I think it will happen again. Your father…he has many enemies.”

Hyemi glances at her marred painting as she processes Seulgi’s words. Seulgi is a maid of the compound and the workers of a household usually know much more than even the ones that live there—Hyemi is arguably the least informed person in this household, thanks to her father. Hyemi is supposed to be oblivious, with her head in the clouds and her hands busy with paintings and stealing the Crown Prince’s heart. She is to look at her world with rosy vision and she is not supposed to question anything. She is not supposed to even question this, since her father had told her he would take care of it and she should not worry.

Still, she cannot help but worry. She cannot stand the fear itching under her skin. It leaves a sort of anxiety that burrows itself away, quickening her heartbeat at the smallest of noises, and she doesn’t like the feeling of it. She doesn’t like feeling so small under its heavy presence. Perhaps, she is very much her father’s daughter in that sense. She enjoys a sense of control, at least over her own feelings, because that is the one thing she’s allowed a say in.

(It reminds her too much of that night years ago when Kai pressed a sword to her neck and her father looked on in indifference. It reminds her of the helpless fear, the disappoint, the smallness, the feeling that she has somehow shrunk to the size of a tiny ant and she is nothing, not even to her own father.)

Seulgi is still watching her, waiting for her to speak. Hyemi’s words stick to for a moment and she must cough to clear it, blinking rapidly. Seulgi looks concerned. Hyemi straightens out her poker face and says, “Can I ask you to do me a favor?”

Seulgi nods, “Of course, my lady.”

She thinks of Kai, but there’s something akin to fear (maybe even embarrassment) coursing through her when she thinks of him. She’s not sure if she wants to face him, now—or ever. So, instead she asks, “Can you ask Xiumin to meet me behind the library in an hour?”

“I…” Seulgi blinks, “Yes, I can.”

Seulgi is perplexed because Hyemi never asks for Xiumin, never even speaks of him, and the hesitance in Hyemi’s tone is all too audible. But Hyemi knows Seulgi is acquainted with both Xiumin and Kai—if anyone can deliver her message to Xiumin, it’s Seulgi.

Seulgi bows her head, backing out of her room, and Hyemi puts a hand over her racing heart.

~.~.~.~.~

“I—what?” Xiumin’s entire demeanor changes in front of her.

She’s never seen him look so shocked. She’s never seen much of any expression other than stony grace his features. His almond eyes widen almost comically, his mouth dropping open, and she thinks if this were anyone else or any other person, she’d laugh at his expression.

In the years he’s lived in her home, she’s barely even spoken to him. Perhaps, this is asking too much, especially of someone she’s never even shown any proper interest—or basic respect, really—to. His wide eyes certainly seem to reflect that sentiment.

Hyemi purses her lips, “I just…I know you can get trouble, it’s just—I’d really like to learn.”

She expects him to give in. He’s always there, hovering behind her father like a lingering shadow, and he always bends his head to her, averting his eyes the few times he’s spoken directly to her. In retrospect, she’s never really seen him as anything more than a servant of her father’s. Him and Kai. So, she expects him to give in.

(Perhaps, she is more like her father than she likes to believe.)

Xiumin’s eyes change first, narrowing slightly. There is something so very unsettling about the way his eyes narrow and the coldness to his features, a frigidity there that cancels out any of the softness his features usually contain. She finds she is intimidated when he looks her right in the eye, for just a moment, and says, “Swordplay is not some kind of…it is not a hobby for you to try as you will. It is a weapon.” Hyemi opens to say something, but Xiumin adds, eyes narrowing even more than before, lips pressed into a thin line, “I will not just get into mere trouble, my lady. This is not like your paintings. It is not to be taken lightly.”

The stern tone he takes on has her blinking. Hyemi mutters, “I know that. I do not wish to take this lightly.”

In all her years of catching glimpses of Xiumin and Kai, she never thought about how, perhaps, Xiumin was not as docile as he appeared to be beside her father and Kai. It makes sense, since Xiumin is also an assassin as well, but it doesn’t really click until this moment, until she sees the way Xiumin stares her down, eyes almost annoyed and mouth downturned.

“Do you have a reason why you want me to teach you how to wield a sword?” Xiumin crosses his arms over his chest. His gaze is still leveled with hers and she finds she feels small under his gaze. “Because, you are the precious lady of this house.” Xiumin gestures around him, at himself, at the front doors that hold guards of their own, “You have plenty of men willing to wield their swords for you. You have no reason to hold a sword of your own. You never will have a reason for it. Your father is making sure of that.”

There’s something strangely bitter edging Xiumin’s words and Hyemi knows that, in the end, no matter what she uses a sword for, it will never compare to what Xiumin and Kai use it for. Her use of a sword will always be a hobby to them. She wonders what that is like, what wielding a sword at such a young age meant for them, when they knew they were only learning to carry out the tasks her father would never dirty his hands with.

She should stop asking. Xiumin’s eyes say exactly that. She should turn away and return to her chambers and they can both pretend this conversation never happened. She should stop worrying and allow her father to provide her with as many swords as she’ll ever need to feel safe. She should leave Xiumin be.

But, she doesn’t. She holds Xiumin’s grim scrutiny with a firm look of her own, though she knows it wavers because her voice wavers as well, hitching up slightly, as she says, “And what if all those men lose anyway? What, then?”

Xiumin looks on, “Who would they lose to?”

Hyemi doesn’t know who. Xiumin stares at her like he knows she has no idea who could defeat her father. He is the Vice Premier—the King’s right-hand man—and he cannot be bested. He’s a better swordsman than even the King’s private guard.

Still, she can’t help but say, “I don’t want to feel as defenseless as I did that night ever again.” Xiumin doesn’t say anything. He just waits for her to keep speaking. So, she does. “In the end, all I’ll have to protect me is myself. I don’t want to—you don’t have to teach me how to use it, but I wish to learn how to defend myself, at least. That is all I want.”

Xiumin still doesn’t say anything, his gaze unwavering.

Hyemi falters. She hesitates as she says, “I…You don’t have to teach me. I can always teach myself.”

Xiumin stares.

Hyemi looks away first.

(Despite being a noblewoman, and the future Crown Princess, she is still so wavering. A fire grows in her belly at the thought, but it does not blaze. She was never one to burn brightly, not even as a child.)

“I will teach myself, then.” Hyemi tries not to falter or waver as she spins on her heels, back to Xiumin. He doesn’t say anything as she leaves. She makes it down two halls with her head held high before she finally feels like she is far enough. That is where she presses her back to the wall, shoulders slumping, and she tries to catch her breath, disappointment, annoyance, and frustration—at both Xiumin and herself—coursing through her, making her shoulders droop more as she wraps her arms around her torso.

She glares at the wall across from her, sighing loudly. She really, truly though Xiumin would help her, but perhaps the risks are greater than any reward she could possibly offer up to him. She can’t imagine what her father would punish Xiumin with if he ever found out he was helping her behind his back. Somehow, it makes her feel smaller than ever, more defenseless, knowing that, in the end, her father will always play God over the actions of everyone around her. Maybe, she will never have to pick up a sword and seriously use it when there are hundreds of men who will do so with just a flick of her father’s fingers, but she can’t help but wonder—what if her father decides he will not flick his fingers? What if her father’s men are not enough? She cannot fathom the many loopholes in allowing her fate to remain in her father’s hands—the same father who shrugged so nonchalantly when Kai had a sword to her neck and threatened to slice , the very same father who left her with just a handful of guards just to see who his enemy’s real target was. She knows, deep down, that her father really, truly does not want harm to come to her, but she also knows that the moment she steps out of line, he will drag her back, by any means necessary. The moment he does not need her, she thinks she knows that he will easily discard of her.

(Maybe he won’t, because he’s still her father, in the end, but she can’t even be sure of that. She can’t even be sure and it’s more awful, more heartbreaking, than anything.)

Her vision blurs as she stares at the wall and she tries to stop it, gaze turning upwards. She angrily rubs away at her tears because she doesn’t think she has any reason to cry. She will teach herself. She will.

She spins, huffing loudly, only to come face-to-face with Kai.

She gasps, jumping back, stumbling over her own two feet, and hands shoot out to steady her, fingers tightening around her elbows. She blinks, rapidly, and Kai lets go of her immediately after she is no longer in danger of falling over.

Her cheeks burn red at the fact that he has been standing there for probably the entire time she had been zoning out and staring at a blank wall. He had probably seen her—

She straightens up, swiping the heel of her hand at her wet cheeks one last time, before she plasters on her best poker face, colder and more stoic than Xiumin’s face had been earlier. Kai’s brows furrow together slightly at the change of expression.

Hyemi mutters, “You are in the way.”

She knows it’s mean. She doesn’t really care.

Kai blinks, his eyes flickering across hers. She doesn’t want him analyzing her face or any of her emotions. She doesn’t really want him to see her as anything but the pleasantly polite Future-Crown-Princess she was always meant to be. She doesn’t want or need the man who tried to kill her, who beheaded another man in front of her, who saw her clutch onto him in fear, to see past any of her perfectly crafted façades. It’s not a path she’d like to walk down. She sidesteps him, and she walks, pace perfectly steady and head held high, back to her chambers.

She decides, as her maids untangle the ornaments from her hair, that it’s about time she starts doing something herself.

~.~.~.~.~

She starts by watching the guards train. It’s easy when she carries her new sketchbook around as a pretense. She uses the sketchbook to sketch out maneuvers, watching the movements carefully. Seulgi stands beside her, head bowed, and her demeanor is nothing like it is later that night when she helps Hyemi get into the practice rooms and watches her fumble with a wooden sword in her hands.

Seulgi laughs at Hyemi when she can barely lift the wooden sword and Hyemi can’t even be angry because she must look ridiculous swinging a sword around aimlessly. Still, Seulgi helps her set up straw dummies and cheers on encouragingly while Hyemi tries to replicate the stances she saw from her father’s guard.

Seulgi is quiet, head bowed throughout the day, watching Hyemi practice her arts, though there is a slight, amused smile on Seulgi’s face when Hyemi complains of how she can’t lift her arms because of how sore they are. Hyemi finds books on swordsmanship in the library and she copies the figures into her sketchbook.

She does this, sometimes alone, but mostly with Seulgi, for days until days turn to weeks. Seulgi is always there and she does a ridiculous celebratory dance when Hyemi is finally able to do a proper swing with her sword.

Seulgi sits cross-legged in front of Hyemi’s sketchbook drawings of all the different types of stances and movements and she says, “There are rumors of a ghost haunting the compound, you know.”

Hyemi pauses, her wooden sword held low, sweat trickling down her neck. “A ghost?”

“The other maids say they hear a ghost running around in the yard. Sometimes even the training shed.” Seulgi grins at Hyemi before she flips a page of Hyemi’s sketchbook. “The guards talk about it, too. You’re not very good at cleaning up after yourself, my lady.”

Hyemi wrinkles her nose, tone amused, “That’s your job.”

“My job is to be the lookout.” Seulgi says, still smiling. Hyemi finds that she enjoys these late-night sword sessions. Somehow, her relationship with Seulgi has evolved. In this training shed, away from the prying eyes of her father and his servants, they are merely Hyemi and Seulgi. It is easier to speak freely. During the day, she is a Future Crown Princess and Seulgi is her maid. At night, they are maybe friends.

Hyemi opens to retort, when another voice joins the mix, a familiar voice that’s cuts through the comfort atmosphere. “If that’s true, you’re doing a pretty bad job at it.”

Hyemi freezes, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the wooden sword. Seulgi’s eyes widen, her fingers falling away from Hyemi’s sketchbook as she shoots to her feet, her formal postures returning.

Hyemi looks over her shoulder and she stiffens at the sight of Kai hovering near the door. He’s leaning sideways, shoulder against the door, arms crossed over his chest, the spitting image of casualty. His full lips are turned up into the slightest smile, just a ghostly little thing she wonders if she’s imagining.

Seulgi grimaces, slightly, though her stiff posture seems to mellow out once she realizes who exactly is standing at the door. Hyemi watches as Seulgi mutters, “What are you doing here, Jon—Kai?”

Hyemi peers at Seulgi, instantly picking up on the obvious familiarity between them, the way Seulgi loosens up immediately and the way Kai’s expression changes a bit at Seulgi’s question. It’s less stoic. It’s friendlier.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Kai raises a brow. Seulgi glances at Hyemi.

The moment Seulgi’s eyes flicker sideways, to Hyemi, the atmosphere in the room changes. The friendliness in Kai’s expression dissipates, returning to it’s usual blank slate, in the mere seconds it takes for Kai’s eyes to drift from Seulgi to Hyemi. Hyemi doesn’t move. Her heartrate kicks up at the look in his eyes—it reminds her distinctly of the look in his eyes before he brought his sword down on that man in the forest.

“You should be in bed, my lady.” Kai’s voice is smooth, low—nonnegotiable she realizes with a jolt. It’s not a suggestion like her other maids’ tones (even Seulgi’s most of the time, during the day). It’s a statement. It reminds her very much of her father.

“I should be wherever I want to be.” She responds, tone clipped.

Kai brow raises, ever so slightly, despite the way his expression remains stoic, icy almost.

(She’s still not used to that, especially not when he won’t drop his gaze, like he should.)

Kai nods, slowly, “Yes, but if your father finds out—”

“He won’t.”

“—Seulgi will get in trouble for bringing you here.” Kai finishes his sentence as if she’s never interrupted. Anger churns at the very pit of her stomach at the way he just talks over her, ignores her really.

(In many ways, she’s just tired of being ignored, constantly. Her thoughts and plans are always met by polite inquiries asking her to reconsider, all by people who her father has full authority over. It’ll get worse, she knows, when she meets the Crown Prince and enters the palace.)

Still, she pauses at the pointed way Kai says Seulgi’s name because he’s not wrong. Out of the two of them, Seulgi will get in trouble, and Hyemi knows her father likes to dole out the worst types of punishments. Hyemi pauses, dropping her hands, the wooden sword hanging loosely at her side as she glances at Seulgi.

Seulgi’s frowning, as if she’s just grasped what Kai said and what the consequences of all this really is for her.

“I—” Hyemi looks at Seulgi, who isn’t quite meeting her gaze. She’s looking down but Hyemi can see the worry and concern knitting at her brows. Hyemi doesn’t want Seulgi to get in trouble for her.

Frustration blooms deep inside Hyemi’s chest, clawing at her heart, and Hyemi feels guilty right then. Kai is looking at her like he is fully aware of her dilemma. Of course, he’s the one who brought it to her attention, did he not?

Seulgi s forward, dropping her head, “Do not worry about me, my lady.”

Hyemi shakes her head, quickly, “No, no. Go back to bed and act like you were never here.”

Seulgi blinks, her big eyes wide. “But, Hye—”

“I know my father and I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Hyemi states, gaze relentless until Seulgi sighs and steps out the room. Hyemi watches as she tilts her head back to look up and Kai wrinkles his nose down at whatever Seulgi tells him, words too quiet for Hyemi to hear, before she steps out the training shed.

The moment Seulgi shuts the door behind her Hyemi spins to face Kai. Hyemi’s never been one to break character, to break really, in front of anyone, and she surely is not about to start now, but something about his lingering presence, the way he hovers at the edge of the shed, amongst the shadows, the way he speaks to her, the fact that she is inherently terrified around him because of what he represents and who he is, it all builds into this pulsing monster of frustration that rears its head and turns her supposedly rosy world so red, she sees blood for a moment.

“There. She’s gone. Now, can you leave?” She bites out each syllable with the same force she’s observed so often from her father, the great Vice Premier of the current King.

He doesn’t budge. He just crosses his arms over his chest, leaning precariously against the wall, and tilts his head, not quite looking at her. He says, “Xiumin told me what you asked of him.”

“Then he must have told you that I said I’d teach myself.”

“He’s not the best person to ask for those kinds of favors.” Kai murmurs.

She had been readying herself for another angry, pointed speech about how she shouldn’t even try to touch a sword. She was prepared for another person to shut her down. Yet—she blinks, faltering spectacularly in her anger, her voice quiet because of her surprise, “What?”

“He’s sensitive about that stuff.” Kai explains. This time, there is a slight smile lifting at the corner of his lips. He doesn’t look Hyemi in the eye, eyes respectfully downcast, but he smiles, slightly amused at his own words, and she is briefly in awe at the break in his expression, taking a moment to observe the crack in a blank slate that she had grown accustomed to.

“I…oh.” She doesn’t know what to say.

“He feels bad for speaking to you that way.”

Hyemi has no idea what to do with Kai’s words. First, it’s the most Kai’s ever spoken to her, the most she’s ever heard his voice, really. Second, it’s not disparaging like she expected. Third, she feels bad for making Xiumin feel bad. Hyemi can’t help but blurt out, “I didn’t mean to…offend Xiumin. I am sorry about that.”

Kai nods.

She pauses, the silence stretching on and on until Hyemi adds, quietly, hesitantly, despite knowing that hesitance was something she was never supposed to show to anyone. Her father never liked hesitance. It shows weakness, he had told her once, his gaze pinned on her all the while, his eyes telling her that that is exactly what he sees her as. She was always hesitant, careful her mother had called it. She was always a bit weak. “Is that—is that all you had to say?”

He pushes himself off the wall, standing up straight. He looms, a bit, despite the distance between them. He speaks, however, in a very quiet voice, a great contrast to his stature, and it’s not imposing like she mostly expects out of him. “You’re holding the sword wrong.”

She blinks, glancing down at her hands.

“Your feet should be wider. It creates balance.”

Her gaze drops to her feet.

“Open up your shoulders, too. Keep your head up.”

She looks up at him and he meets her gaze with steady eyes, lips turned up still into that slightly amused smile. There must be something in her expression because Kai lets out a low chuckle, breaking eye contact first, his head turning to the side, his grin half-hidden by the shadows. The frustration is still there, mixed in with annoyance, because he’s laughing at her and her cheeks grow hot at the soft sounds of his snickering along with the embarrassment of having so many things wrong with her stance. “I…I knew that!”

“Of course.” Kai nods, bows his head respectfully, still smiling, before he spins on his heels, reaching for the door.

She thinks he will leave so she can wallow in embarrassment alone, but his low, quiet voice drifts through the tense silence, right as he opens the door to the shed.

He says, so softly she wonders if she imagines it, “If you need my help, it’s okay to ask.”

She scowls as the door swings shut behind him. Maybe it’s the pride she’s inherited from her father, or maybe it’s something else, but she decides she will not ask him for help. She will not.

~.~.~.~.~

She sits at the edge of the training grounds, watching the guards wield their swords. Seulgi stands beside her, head bowed, but Hyemi can feel Seulgi’s eyes on her, especially when Hyemi stiffens when Kai and Xiumin enter the grounds. Kai looks directly up at her. At least the other guards pretend they are unaware of her presence. Kai doesn’t. He tilts his head up, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his neck stretches out, and his gaze lands directly on her. He does not look away for a long, long moment.

She stiffens. Xiumin catches the moment, glancing from Kai to Hyemi. Xiumin purses his lips at Hyemi and Hyemi wonders if Kai told him of how he found her in the training shed.

A gust of wind blows and the pages of Hyemi’s sketchbook flutters in her lap. The sound of it, the soft shhh, jolts her from the tension of the moment. She coughs, focusing on her sketchbook.

She mutters, “Please, sit down, Seulgi.”

Seulgi glances around, timid. Technically, the maids are not allowed to sit, but her father has been present many times when she told her servants to take a seat or asked them if they ate well, and despite the disapproving look in her father’s eyes, he would say nor do nothing when they’d eventually take a seat beside her. She had checked to make sure he would do nothing to them behind her back, too.

Hyemi pats the spot beside her on the blanket and Seulgi slowly takes a seat.

She ignores Kai and Xiumin practicing their swordsmanship, playfighting, laughing all the while, focusing instead on the guards, and asks Seulgi of her day. Seulgi gets to talking, hesitant at first before she calms and speaks normally, as they would in the training shed at night.

After, when Hyemi returns to her chambers and she’s flipping through her sketchbook, she’d realize with a jolt that her sketches of the guards’ stances would look suspiciously like a single person. Like Kai (and a few like Xiumin). It’s a coincidence, she decides, annoyed more than anything.

(She will not ask him for help.)

~.~.~.~.~

“You look lovely.” She is surrounded by maids with bowed heads and her head feels heavy because of the gilded ornaments weighing down on her. Her father’s intense eyes are focused entirely on her.

(It’s what she’s wanted, as a young child, long ago. Her father’s attention. But, now that she has it, it feels ingenuine, off, as lopsided as the way she’d hold the wooden sword in her hands after practicing for hours and hours, her arms trembling from exhaustion.)

She feels heavy under his gaze. She wonders why, for just a moment, until he says, his words an added burden piling upon her shoulders, upon the ornaments stuck to hair, poking at her scalp. “This is the moment I have trained you for. I’ve allowed you to do many, many things, Hyemi, but this is the path that I’ve set you on and I hope you walk it well. Make the Crown Prince fall in love with you and bear him a son. All our efforts will be rewarded then.”

Commands. They are all commands. She has not set eyes on the Crown Prince yet. She has merely heard rumors of his countenance. She only knows his name: Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun. Her palms are sweating, and her heart is racing from the nerves and her father does not seem to care to calm her. He sets her on a mission and she is to follow through with it, whether she wants to or not.

(And why wouldn’t she want to? This is the Crown Prince. This is the highest honor someone like her could ever receive. She should be happy and excited.)

She nods, “Yes, father.”

He smiles.

(So why does she feel so heavy?)

"Come along, my daughter." Her father whisks out the room, robes fluttering behind him, and she takes a deep breath, steeling herself, before she follows.

a/n: I'm going to break this up into chapters because it's LONG as hell and I'm still writing it. I got really caught up in the plot so I guess it's technically chaptered, but the format doesn't work that way, honestly. Anyways, enjoy and thank u to everyone who subscribed and commented already <33333