Taehyun had given the princess and the commander two pieces of advice.

The first had been to build a stronger friendship with key members of the confederate court. The princess decided to host an afternoon meal for the men, at the courtyard of her accommodations in the palace. She sat beside Insung, and chatted animatedly with the rest of the party. Jongkook dutifully watched over the celebration, his hands clutching his sword every time she saw the princess laugh or smile at something that Insung said.

Insung offered his hand out to the princess, asking if she wanted to take a walk around the courtyard. She agreed and took his hand.

He led her out to the back of the palace, leading them to the foot of a hill. Given that it was summertime, the bushes were still filled with a wide array of flowers, in varying shapes and colors. Interestingly, she found that Insung knew all their names and their uses. He plucked a pink flower out of the bush, its petals huddled together by the stem, as if it was afraid to fully reveal itself to the world. 

“This is called jindallae, your highness,” Insung explained. The princess took the flower from him, carefully examining its petals and bringing it up to her nose to take a whiff. She smiled at its fragrant smell, and looked up at the man in front of him.

“How come you know all these flowers?” she wondered. “You don’t seem like the type to know about these things.”

Insung chuckled, “I didn’t think you’d judge me that way, your highness. But, if you must know, I learned about all these from my mother. This part of the palace where you’re staying is my mother’s and she grew and tended this garden out back. My brother and I used to play and run around here, and to get us to stop, my mother would teach us about all these plants. She successfully distracted me every time, but my brother… not so much.”

The princess giggled, remembering how both her siblings would also do the same when their father started to give a lecture. Somin and Kwangsoo would squabble to be the first to leave, but Jihyo would usually pull her brother back and let her sister go, believing that out of the three of them, he had the utmost duty to lap up every piece of wisdom their father wanted to impart. Somin would look back at Kwangsoo, her mischievous eyes glinting in retaliation, and Jihyo would also laugh silently, partly pitying her brother and being amused by her sister.

She told Insung, “Your mother must now be proud that you and your brother are taking big responsibilities instead of running around in her garden.”

As the words left her lips, she saw the man turn his head down, before facing her with a tight smile. “I’m afraid that isn’t the case, your highness. My brother — he used to occupy this position, but he passed away in battle. My mother soon followed when she heard the news. It’s actually why I’ve become the head of Daegaya.”

“Oh,” was the only sound that came out of her lips, before she quickly tried to remedy the situation, “My apologies, Insung-ssi. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright, your highness,” he replied with a warm smile. “It’s been years…”

The princess kept her silence for a while, before deciding to give voice to her thoughts. Her hands were still brushing through the petals of the flower in her hand, while Insung distracted himself by looking at the flowers on the bush. She broke the silence, “It could be years, but I guess the grief never leaves. It just gets hidden somewhere deep within.”

Insung looked at her curiously, slowly nodding as he took in her words. Princess Jihyo returned his gaze, with a soft yet sad smile, as she shared, “My father also died in battle. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, because I didn’t think it would be the last time I’d see him.”

His lips were parted in surprise; it was a widely known fact across all the kingdoms that the princess’s father was a well-loved king. When his brother was alive, he went to personally visit the ceremony for the burial of the Silla King, and told Insung all about it. Insung remembered being impressed by all the stories, but, as he saw the princess fondly look at the flower, undoubtedly remembering her late father, he knew there were many more stories not only of the King as a great leader, but also as a loving father. 

Despite the risk of further dampening the atmosphere, he said, “I’m sure his majesty knows your heart, your highness, and that is really all that matters.” He smiled at her sincerely. “We never know the outcome of battles; it’s just the harsh reality of the world we live in. But I like to believe that, in our dying moments, we remember with fondness the people we love.”

The princess merely nodded, taking his words in. She sighed, before saying, “I hate warfare.”

He chuckled, “Who loves it, your highness?”

“I’m not sure,” she said as she bit her lip. “But I think nations are better off just having better relations with one another and coexisting than trying to expand their empires.”

“And I surmise that’s why you’re here, your highness,”