7 YEARS AGO ...

Sehun runs through the trees, his chest heaving with every breath he takes as the sun of late summer scorches its path through the folliage of trees. An arrow sticks through the fifteen years old prince's shoulder, having lodged itself a few milimeters apart from his armour which failed to fully protect him. He's tired, so tired, his legs threatening to give up underneath of him whilst his pursuers continue to chase him as they would a cornered animal; the boy forces his legs to go faster, gritting his teeth at the pain that jostles his shoulder every time he moves. He can feel the blood soak through his robes, wetting his rib, sweat peppering his skin.

He reaches the end of the forest and before him lays the edge of a cliff: his only way to escape一 death.

"He's here! The prince of Kim is here!"

He pants, setting the heel of his foot atop the edge. Dirt crumbles under his weight, away into the nauseating abyss. Either he dies by their hand or down there, at the bottom of the ravine... 

Galloping pairs of feet ambush him from all sides, a group of four mercenaries closing in on him. Their swords are already smeared with the blood of his soldiers. 

"There's nowhere you can run, Prince Oh." one of them sneers. 

Another places his sword on his shoulder mockingly, "Best make your prayers, you will die now."

Sehun's other foot tethers the edge when they begin advancing with the intent to kill, small rocks slipping through thin air with the promise of a prideful demise falling to his death rather than bearing the humilating murder of their accord. 

Yet, in that moment, a horn sounds, and the instant his assailants look away, arrows spring from the treeline, killing them one by one. 

The bushes shuffle. A person, a girl, comes out holding a bow with fur, a white cloth covering the lower half of her face. 

Admitedly, Sehun is stunned by her bravery. 

"What is your name?" 

"Oh Sehun."

"You are the son of Emperor Kim..."

"That I am." he holds his injured shoulder, surveying the girl critically. As she's about to go near him, he straightens his sword. 

"Be at ease. I wish you no harm." she reassures, dropping her bow to demonstrate her sincerty. 

The first thing that strikes him as captivating are her eyes, she has pretty, deep eyes... 

"Allow me to treat your wound. Your camp is far from this zone, you have no water and food. At this rate, you will lose blood and may even die of an infection."

"How do you know so much?" 

"My father is a general."

"What squadron of the kingdom is he in?" 

"He leads a rebellion."

At her blunt answer, he lines his blade to her neck. 

The female stiffens, tilting her chin so that it doesn't touch . 

Sehun rips the veil off her face, discovering the face of a fifteen years old girl, much like himself. 

"Your name."

"I have none."

His brows furrow, tightening his grip on his sword. 

The girl uses the vulnerability in his arm to her advantage, evading his threat and knocking the weapon to the ground. 

"Your Highness, your wound."

Her bossy tone doesn't sit well with the stoic prince but he decides to let himself trust this stranger, only because, despite his want to disagree, she is right. He needs her help. 

At sunset, they're sitting on tree stumps somewhere northern of the cliff he was drove to by those mercenaries, the arrow out of his flesh. She cuts through his sleeve with her knife and wets a clean cloth with water, careful to wash his wound before she uses a herbal ointment and gauze to bandage his shoulder. 

Sehun watches her, masking his intrigue, an inkling of curiousity ingrained into the depths of his intelligent eyes. 

"Your Highness一" 

"Why did you help me?" 

She stills, her delicate yet strong fingers tying the bandage which finishes her handiwork. She glances from him to her lap, refusing to respond; instead, she takes out a satchel, putting it in his palm. 

"There is food and water in the bag I gave you. You must apply this ointment for three days. Go south and you will find the camp of your army." 

He doesn't call after her as she stands and picks up her bow, leaving him there. The prince thumbs the wooden beads attached to the strings of the satchel, turning them around untill the carved symbols form a word. 

하얀 white, pu