Soowon ran a finger over his personal sword, the warmth from Yona's hand still lingering on its hilt. He could still remember her face paled with shock, lips quivering with rage, eyes burning with questions unasked. Even in anger, she still looked as beautiful as ever, the soft light from the rising sun illuminating her delicate, royal features.
He unsheathed the sword, pristine and pointed, and held it against the light. With it, he had killed everything and everyone Yona had cared for - her father, her home, her heart, her first love. Even now, Soowon felt King Il's warm blood trickling beneath his fingertips, admixed with the mud and rain and Yona's bitter tears.
She had tried to kill him with that same sword just now - and he would have let her.
Briefly, Soowon wondered what thoughts ran through her mind as she attempted to grab his sword, if the remaining shards of her broken heart would ultimately be the one to deliver the final blow to his own, just as he had pierced her father's with his sword.
He smiled ruefully at the thought. A pity it wasn't going to be fatal; his heart had long been hers, after all.