A/N: This piece was just begging to be written...so here I am, back from The Upside Down.
A word of warning, this one's a bit darker than my usual works (and I don't even write fluff).
Wang Yo is not a good guy, Hae Soo is not in love with him, there's no love lost between these two and you'll find no "romance" here (yet?). Oh, and you most definitely won't be leaving this story feeling all warm and fuzzy with butterflies fluttering in your stomach, etc.
#Dark #NoFluff #Angst #Violence #Tension #LotsAndLotsOfTension #HaveIMentionedDARK
Last chance to turn back!
Ye hath been warned.
Cool? Cool.
Now, to all you brave souls who have remained...you're in for quite a treat ;)
Enjoy, lovelies.
She stands at the very edge of the bathing pool, hands clenched tight into the starched silk of her skirt as she stares at her bare toes. Now is not the time for cowardice, she reminds herself.
She has no clue how to do this but she knows she's fucked if she doesn't at least try.
Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and centers herself…reaching back into the far corners of her mind as she attempts to conjure up a memory that waits dormant over a millennium away.
One.
She tries to recall the slight breeze…the shrill giggle of children frolicking nearby…the happy chatter of families on picnics…
Two.
the quiet companionship of a filthy drunkard…leaves rustling in the summer trees…the sharp scent of Soju…
Three.
the wetness of tears coating her cheeks…a splash, a scream… bolting as fast as her feet can carry her…and then that cold, cold lake…
She doesn't struggle.
Even as she feels herself sink lower and heavier, the cold water closing over her head, she doesn't struggle. Instead, she wills her fingers to unfurl, her limbs to relax…refrains from resisting the impending calm.
Blackness threatens to shield her from everything – sight, sound, hurt - and diffidently she welcomes it. For one fearful second, instinct begs her body to fight, but she's so tired of fighting. She shuts her eyes in resignation and lets her weight go slack…all the rest fades away into a murky miasma as she surrenders herself to the embrace of the dark and deep…
So silent, so still…
Her newfound peace is shattered when a pair of strong hands reach down and pull her up. The instant she breaks through the surface of the pool, she realizes she has made a grave error.
"Allow me to assist you," he snarls. Like some kind of cruel baptism, he shoves her head back under the water, his fingers brutal against her scalp.
Oh God, oh God, oh God…
She drags her fingernails across his wrist, but his grip is unforgiving. Panic sets her heart hammering against her ribs.
Oh how it hurts. Her nose, her chest, her throat. How it burns.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally lets her back up. Bursting head-first into the night air, she gasps raggedly, trying to catch her breath.
Disoriented and reeling, she is unable to fully process what is happening before he shoves her down again. Her arms flail in uncoordinated strokes this time as she desperately claws through nothingness, straining for the moonlight that dims above.
Her entire body is throbbing, her lungs feel as though they've been set on fire.
Tyrant. Villain. Murderer.
She twists and jerks beneath his hand as he continues to acquaint her with pain…until it is all she breathes in and knows. Until it dawns on her that she doesn't want to die after all…not like this, not by him.
Her limbs tire eventually and her vision blurs.
So this is how it finally ends…
She exhales her final breath just in time to watch it rise in a stream of bubbles back to the surface, before the darkness consumes her.
By the time he hurls her onto the safety of the mahogany floorboards, she is a trembling mess of racking coughs and gasping sobs. Her slight form convulses with the force of oxygen tearing into her lungs.
Sweet, sweet oxygen. Tears are streaming down her face as she tries to relearn the taste of air.
She feels the brush of his wet robes when he kneels next to her, his own breathing harsh and deep. "Damn you!" His fingers bite into her wet arms as he turns her roughly to face him. "Why would you do something so foolish?"
His eyes are blazing with fury and he's drenched too, his black hair dripping around his shoulders.
She shivers, still spewing water from her mouth. "I wasn't- " she wheezes, it hurts to breathe and she feels light-headed, like she might pass out at any moment.
"Damn you!" he growls before walking away in disgust.
God, she must look so pathetic, sniveling on all fours in her soaked uniform like a quivering wreck. But she doesn't care – he brought her to this! If anything, he should be ashamed of his unkingly conduct.
She coughs out more water and drags another howling breath in before her windpipe begins to relax.
"You offend me, Lady Soo. I'd assumed my enthronement would warrant celebration, not despondence." His voice is much calmer now. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, I was told you'd have more mettle."
She hears his footsteps coming closer again.
"Have I not been fair? Am I not merciful? I have spared your life, allowed you to keep your position…and this is how you repay me?" His sodden boots appear in her field of vision and she glances up at him through the haze of her tears. "Are you so weak minded that you can't handle a little adversity?"
In that moment, she is tempted to tell him everything…wants to scream the truth at the top of her lungs…she doesn't belong here, she was wrongly misplaced from her era…and he just thwarted any chance she had of returning to a world two thousand years after him! An alternate universe where all is set right and this reality is but a living nightmare…where he, the great all-powerful King Jeongjong, is reduced to nothing but ash and dust and bone.
And if she had killed herself in the process, it would've been a small mercy anyway. There are worse things than death and who better to attest to this fact than she.
She breathes heavily, watching the water run down his face. Self-preservation and first-hand knowledge of his irascible tendencies change her mind. Perhaps now isn't the best time to lecture him on the details and intricacies of time-travel.
"I have lost everything," she confesses, her voice little more than a whisper. It's not a lie. The man before her single-handedly eviscerated her peaceful existence, all in the span of a few days. "Everyone I love…everyone I've ever cared about is gone. There is nothing for me here."
"I see…" he says, his voice deep and smooth. He crouches down next to her and she has to stop herself from flinching. "You must've taken their losses to heart for it to come to this. I imagine it caused you great distress."
Her eyes remain trained straight ahead and she wraps her arms around her ribs, saying nothing.
"Was it self-loathing that drove you to it?"
"You would know about that, wouldn't you?"
His hand shoots out to grip her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye. "So, the little kitten has claws," he murmurs, examining her as he might a vial of poison. "And judging by your countenance…perhaps you are of the opinion that I am to blame?" His face is so close she can feel his breath on her cheek. "Do you propose to admonish me?"
"I wouldn't dare, Your Majesty," she replies, her tone biting.
The corner of his mouth twitches into his cheek. "Your eyes…they're so expressive, they do you great disservice by betraying you."
Exhaling heavily, he pushes himself up and walks away from her. There's a long silence while he just looks at her.
"I'm curious, Lady Soo…do you find my presence abhorrent?"
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, you are the king. My opinion holds no value."
His mouth sets into a grim line and the bleakness of his gaze unnerves her.
"With all due respect, your lack of candor is very tiresome," he says eventually, clearly unamused.
She casts her lashes down, choosing instead to stare at the water dripping from the gold trim of his sable robes, collecting into a puddle at his feet. She wonders if anyone will hear her scream when he murders her tonight.
"Of course you do," he decides with an air of finality. "I would be a fool to believe otherwise."
Her eyes follow his footsteps as he begins pacing back and forth, saying nothing for quite some time, like he's stumped over a riddle.
The look on his face is familiar and by now she is no stranger to his mercurial moods, nor to their deceptively tranquil preludes; so she rises to her feet, legs still shaky, bracing herself for what's to come.
"But it's not really a question of whether you loathe me, is it?" he muses, voice dripping with malice. "It's a matter of why. One can only deduce I must've somehow disrupted your charmingly idyll existence here."
A flurry of disjointed thoughts float through her head as she works on keeping a poker face.
Perhaps if she stays silent, he won't hurt her. Why antagonize him further?
"Which begs the question…how exactly have I wronged you?" He runs his fingers through his wet hair before turning to her with a small smile. "Was it because of the mad king?"
He tilts his head to the side, watching her intently, as though he's deeply pondering the taxonomy of an exotic animal.
She meets his probing stare.
"If I recall correctly, you were quite attached to him. Surely, if anyone can sympathize with your ordeal this evening it would be him." Her body stiffens at the remark.
She still has nightmares of him…the late King Hyejong in his final moments…deathly ill and floundering helplessly in shallow water, too weak to fend for himself while everyone looked on.
Her gut twists at the recollection.
"Mu always was too gullible, too trusting for my taste," he drawls with open disdain. "He may as well've handed me the keys to the palace on a silver platter."
She stares at him, the words nearly doubling her over with their impact. The cold fear in her chest steadily simmers into acerbic anger.
"No matter, it is what it is…and although it did sadden me to see him go so soon, I don't see why I should shoulder blame for his passing."
"You broke him," she says through clenched teeth, burning rage and disbelief hiss through her body like venom. "You drove him out of his mind!"
He lifts an eyebrow. "My methods may be unpleasant, but there is no shame in defending one's birthright."
"You let His Majesty die! What you did was murder and treason. How can you bring yourself to sit on his throne with that sin? With that stain on your soul?"
His eyes narrow and he walks toward her until they are inches apart. She stands her ground, continuing to glare up at him, too riled up to back away.
"I understand that you are not well-versed in the affairs of state. I cannot fault you for that." He reaches out, trailing his fingers down her face, delicately skating them down her cheek. "But I was born to rule…and the right to rule is not given, it is taken by force."
Her eyes blaze, but she says nothing. She can think of nothing to say.
"Besides, you give me far too much credit, Lady Soo. Failure to rescue my ailing brother from a watery grave isn't tantamount to being his executioner. He did all the work for me. My being there was simply all too…fortuitous," he says with relish.
"How do you do it?" she asks, furious at how her voice is cracking. "Even now…how are you able to say these things?"
He sighs and turns away from her, taking steps forward to put some space between them once more.
"They played a dangerous game," he mutters cryptically, without turning to face her. "They will pay a heavy price for losing."
Anger claws at her throat. "And what of the tenth prince? How was he a threat? Was it fortuitous too that he couldn't evade your bloodlust?"
"I admit I might've made a rather dramatic example out of Eun, a tad excessive. Still, one weak link can break the chain of a mighty dynasty." His eyes are like chips of stone when he turns to her, blind to anything but his own thoughts. "He would've risen against me. Goryeo should know that the crown does not tolerate advocates of sedition…and his clan was practically begging to be exterminated," he says tightly. "Traitors. The lot of them."
She is both amazed and horrified by how well he is able to twist anything and everything to fit his diabolic delusions.
"Tragic what happened to him in the end," he drawls thoughtfully. "And that wife of his, do you recall?"
Bastard, how can she forget? She was there, he knows this. She witnessed him slaughter them in cold blood…and the monster didn't even have the decency to allow them a proper burial. Their corpses had been left to rot outside the palace "for the crows to feast on" Baek-Ah had told them.
She feels her cheeks burn and her hands involuntarily clench into tight fists at her sides. God, how she wants to use them.
"General Park certainly knew how to climb the ranks." He shakes his head as if he's just heard the punchline to a failed joke. "His daughter was a nice touch. Such a peculiar child…what was her name?"
His nonchalance angers her beyond measure. She bites her lips, fighting to keep her fury under control
How can someone be so cruel? So full of hate?
He steps closer until they are only a pace apart. His dark eyes gleam maliciously as he takes in her discomfort. "What was her name, Lady Soo?"
Her chest heaves with emotion.
She glances up at him, swallowing hard.
Tears threaten to spill from the corner of her eyes. "Soon Deok," she whispers.
"As I said…quite tragic," he says with no trace of regret whatsoever.
She wants to spit in his horribly smug face, but she doesn't. She looks away, unable to stand the unconcealed madness in his eyes any longer.
"Nonetheless, justice had to be exercised and that is the price of peace. A nation can have no peace until the roots of treason are pulled out."
Her eyes flash incredulously. "Justice?" she snaps. "Is that what you call the brutal slaying of a young couple who were innocent of any crime in all their lives and were merely obedient to the crown and their family?"
"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Fate intervened." He holds his arms out to his sides in a gesture that only infuriates her further. "And who am I to question the will of the Heavens?"
For a moment, she's stymied. She can't believe what she's hearing, until it hits her.
He doesn't care at all what he's done. He doesn't care!
Her chest aches with the injustice of it all. Angry tears start to cloud her vision, and a single stream falls down her face.
"How do you bear it? How do you sleep at night? How are you not bowed down with shame and remorse?"
His jaw clenches and he turns away, taking several steps before twisting back, dropping any pretense of civility.
"When Father sent me away to be killed, did he have remorse?" His voice grows louder and harsher with ire. "When my brothers turned on me…chased me to the edge of a cliff like some animal for sport and tried to murder me, did they have remorse?" He raises a pointed finger at her. "You speak of things you know nothing of!"
"So now you claim the lives of innocents as recompense for these slights, is that it?" She's shaking with so much anger and hate, she feels her heart might burst from it.
He straightens his overcoat, pausing for a moment, evidently struggling to muster his composure.
"There is nothing more dangerous in this world than a humiliated man," he tells her levelly.
There's a silent, crackling tension in the air between them as they stare at each other for a few moments.
"What made you this way?" she asks tearfully, her voice nothing more than a strained hush of sound.
He huffs out an angry laugh. "Nothing made me this way. This is how I've always been, the way things have always been." He smirks mirthlessly. "Except now the tables have turned and you are bitter."
She feels her eyes harden. "You speak of justice and peace," she says, her voice quivering. "You must think yourself a great king…a powerful king. Well I have known a good deal of great men, and you, Your Majesty, pale in comparison. You are inadequate. You have no honor and you show no benevolence."
He reaches out and tangles his fingers in her hair, roughly wrenching her head back. "And was So one of these great men?" The question comes out dry, and hard as stale bread."Was it benevolence he bestowed upon you when he had you lying flat on your back?"
The skin on her neck is stretched painfully, making it difficult to talk. "Go…to hell," she hisses through her teeth.
His hand clamps tight around her throat. "Oh, I'm sure you would love that," he growls. "Do you wish that the wolf dog had finished me off? Hmm?" His lips pull into a shark-like smile. "Do you regret that he couldn't bring himself to make the ultimate sacrifice that day? You must've been so disappointed."
He releases her when she starts to choke. She stumbles forward, massaging her aching neck.
"As he has demonstrated repeatedly, he is incompetent. Weak. Deficient. You have my sympathies."
She turns and looks him straight in the eye. "He's more of a man than you'll ever be."
His hand whips across her cheek in a slap.
She swallows sharply. He's not smiling anymore.
"You will not compare me to that filth." His face is cold with still rage.
He starts to amble towards her at a slow pace and she automatically backsteps. Icy fear is skyrocketing up her spine and thudding through her chest as she moves away.
Seeing that his paces aren't halting, she tries to step sideways, but he blocks her. His lips pull into a warped grin, clearly enjoying this game of his own making.
His limbs dangle loosely by his sides. "They should never have crossed me," he tells her gruffly. "In hindsight, it would seem all of this could've easily been prevented had your friends not been so brash and foolish." He approaches her until they are toe to toe. "You would do well to learn from their mistakes."
"You murderous bastard," she says, her rage blistering.
She feels the sting of another slap and she staggers back, clutching a hand to her cheek.
He clenches and unclenches his fist twice before talking. "You force me to be cruel."
More tears cloud her vision as she swallows against the lump in her throat.
"It should have been you," she whispers vehemently. "None of them deserved it, it should've been you!"
A muscle ticks in his cheek and his glare intensifies.
Why even bother holding back? He's going to kill her anyway.
"I wish it was you who'd been cut down and shot and poisoned, you fucking sociopath!" She's openly crying now, clutching an arm across her stomach. "You should be rotting in Seokyeong, not the fourth prince! You pathetic excuse for a man!"
He looks absolutely livid, nearly inhuman, but she can't stop herself. She's terrified and hurting and angry, and she won't be silenced.
"I never knew I could detest someone so much until I met you. You're a coward and you won't even own up to it. Why couldn't you just stay dead? You have taken everything from me! Everything good…everyone I love is gone!"
"You only have yourself to blame."
Her jaw drops in disbelief. "What are y- "
He reaches her in two strides and slams his hands against her shoulders, shoving her into the solid wall behind her.
His arms cage her in on both sides. "Do not deign to think that I've forgotten your trespasses against me!" he whispers harshly into her ear. "Your indefatigable interference cost me my seat in the Rain Ritual! So now here we are..." He pulls back slightly to peer into her face, pausing for effect. "All thanks to you."
She shakes her head through her tears. "Th-that's not true!"
He slaps her hard across the face with the back of his hand. "Oh yes, it is your fault!" She crumples to the ground, tears running down her face. "The throne was rightfully mine to begin with! Because of you I had to eliminate my brothers to take it!"
He wrenches her up by the ivory neckline of her uniform and slams her against the wall once more. Her skull smarts from the impact, stealing her breath away.
Fuckfuckfuck
Pain. Blinding pain.
His fingernails dig into her arms as he shakes her violently. "Your incessant meddling cost them their lives and now everyone is dead!" he roars, baring his teeth at her. "You are the cause of all this!"
"No!" she cries, weakly pushing at his chest.
A slap echoes around her.
"You worthless, meddlesome, insubordinate bitch!"
Another resounding slap.
"Stop it!" she screams. In a flash, she's pulled out Lady Oh's hairpin from her braids, the pointed tip is aimed towards him like a blade.
His pallid face comes alight with malicious triumph.
"Phenomenal, isn't it, the lengths that pain and anger will drive us to?" he remarks quietly. "Pure raging odium. You're positively radiating with it."
"You're a monster."
"I'm not a monster, I'm a realist. A survivor, just as you are."
She laughs without mirth. "God, I hate you," she whispers thickly. "I loathe you…with every fiber of my being." Her hands shake as she tightly grips the hairpin. "But when you die, all of my hatred will fade away with you." And she's sure she means it. It feels so good to be in control for once. "Your avarice and thirst for bloodshed will be the end of you."
He raises his eyebrows. "Alright then." He steps closer and clasps his hand around her much smaller one, completely unfazed, bringing the sharp metal point to his chest. "Do it."
Now it's her turn to frown.
"Strike true and you are free to go. Free to run and scream and cry. Free to avenge everyone and everything you've lost."
The situation only serves to fill her with helplessness and panic. She feels the tears welling up again, like a cauldron about to boil over.
"Do it," he dares her. His expression is scornful, taunting, mocking.
Her chin trembles and she swallows once, drawing his attention to the muscles working in her delicate neck.
His piercing eyes flick back to her own wide ones and he smirks cruelly. "You can't, can you?" he says, with the tiniest hint of a chuckle. "You're just like So…spineless, weak, useless- "
Without hesitation, she plunges the sharp metal into his flesh. His face scrunches up in a mixture of pain and surprise as she carves a bloody line across the damp fabric of his robes.
She pushes down harder, but it doesn't sink any deeper.
Shit.
Her heart drops to the ground. To her dismay, his fingers remain clamped painfully tight around her wrist, twisting it away, threatening to break it lest she continue.
He overpowers her easily, he twists her hand until her fingers are white and a small cry escapes her lips.
The hairpin clatters to the floor as he disarms her, and in one smooth motion, the cold blade of a dagger now rests like a pendant against her throat.
"Your impudence knows no bounds," he hisses.
Her head starts to pound, internal alarms going off like warning sirens.
She pants in fear, raising both hands shakily…the defeated, the condemned, awaiting execution. "Please- "
He snatches her right wrist and wrenches it down and around, pinning it behind her back as he presses her against the wall.
"Don't. Move."
Her chest clenches like a hard fist of nerves and the tears start to come faster.
Oh God, this is it. This is really it. It's over.
She never even got to say goodbye to him and now it's all over. Life is fleeting, but dammit she's not ready. And she's so afraid.
She shuts her eyes and holds her breath, waiting for the endless pain to come.
But it doesn't.
The sound of tearing fabric punctures the air as he slides the blade down the back of her jade shirt, splitting it in half. Then, gently, he starts to peal the halves over her shoulders. She feels his fingertips brush along her skin as he slowly slides the silk down her arms, painting a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.
The scraps of fabric drop to the floor, almost apologetically, and soon she is left in only her damp cotton shift. Repeating the motion, he slices the flimsy chemise down along her spine, exposing her entire upper back.
There's a chill when he releases her and steps away. For several agonizing seconds, there's nothing but dead silence.
He's so cruel, she thinks resentfully. How can someone enjoy inflicting so much pain and suffering on another person? Why won't he let it end?
Her heartbeat is roaring so loud in her ears, she wonders if he can hear it too.
What is he doing?
"Turn around," he commands, his voice a tone darker than midnight.
Wiping the back of her hand across her cheek, she quietly complies. Her arms remain wrapped around herself in an attempt to preserve some shred of modesty.
He's still holding the dagger, flipping and spinning it, and for the first time she catches sight of its ornamented handle and razor-sharp blade glinting in the moonlight.
"I won't insult your intelligence by telling you what you should do next," he tells her silkily. "But you must know…my patience is waning."
Her face flames and she swallows thickly.
With great reluctance, she lowers her hands to her sides, baring herself to him from the waist up. She blushes to the roots of her hair and looks away. She can feel his eyes on her hot skin.
Her humiliation is complete.
"Moonlight suits you," he drawls, "as does silence."
Her eyes snap back to his.
He moves in closer, looking into her eyes, and then slowly rakes his gaze down her body.
Before she can draw another breath, he grabs her firmly by the chin and forces her head back against the wall.
He looms over her, eyes narrowed. The blade of his dagger traces along her jawline to where he's holding her face. Impulsively, she tries to turn her cheek away.
"If you move or scream, I'll have no choice but to further demonstrate the use of this weapon. Is that understood?"
She nods, gulping anxiously.
"Good."
And so it begins. The blade traces over her body, bloodlessly devouring every inch of pale skin it can find…he draws an invisible line down the center of her exposed throat…over the delicate skin of her chest…ending at her stomach.
Her eyes are glued to his face, hanging on to his every micro-expression. She daren't move for fear that he might slash her open.
The blade lingers down there for a while, teasing the soft skin at the edge of her skirt.
All is hushed, save for the sound of their breathing. It's as if the night itself is holding its breath, like a quiet conspirator, silencing the birds and crickets, stilling the wind that would otherwise rustle through the trees lining the far end of the pool.
His silence is terrifying and the suspense is even worse. Every second stretches into torment.
"Are you going to kill me?" she manages to whisper.
Long fingers shift down to circle her neck, squeezing lightly. "And waste perfectly good bait? Don't be so obtuse."
Once more, the blade moves across her soft skin…and then it slides higher, slowly gliding up her abdomen.
She remains perfectly still as he proceeds to lightly drag the pointed tip of the dagger even higher, skimming along her lower ribs.
Her heart is pounding erratically in her chest but she tries to ignore it and struggles to calm her breathing.
His brows knit in deep concentration as he experimentally traces the curve of her bare breast, the edge of his blade oh-so-lightly licks her sensitive skin in mock imitation of a lover's caress.
She focuses on one deep breath, and then another, trying to steady herself - but every hair on her body rises in response to his attentions. A shadow of a smile passes over his face for an instant.
There's no way he can't feel her throbbing pulse against his palm.
Her breath hitches when she suddenly feels the cool flat of the blade against her nipple. The brush of cold silver sends fiery darts shimmering through her body straight to the pit of her stomach.
Her knees weaken and she isn't certain she will survive.
"Your Majesty," she breathes, squirming under his hand.
His distant gaze flicks up to hers, as if just remembering that she's still there with him.
For a while, they just stare at each other. His dark eyes are clouded and he's breathing heavily as if he's been running.
The anticipation has her captive in a nervous kind of energy. It tingles through her like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in her toes.
Bracing himself against the wall with one hand, he slowly leans in towards her. The intensity of his gaze has her utterly transfixed and paralyzed.
His forehead brushes against her hair when he bends his head, and her eyes flutter closed.
She feels the warmth of his breath as he whispers over her ear, "If you ever attempt to take your life again, I will make sure you live to regret it."
Just like that, he pulls away from her.
Before leaving, his hand swipes down to pocket her discarded hairpin on the floor and then he heads to the doorway.
Still shaken, she stands there watching him, eyes half-closed, willing her breathing back to normal.
Her eyesight blurs as she watches his retreating figure walk off into the distance. Then her shoulders slump and her knees give way. Sliding slowly down the wall, she's barely there before she collapses in a heap on the ground.
Her mind is a swirling vortex. Eyes struggling to move, she sees his silhouette twisting through her blending vision. Running back towards her.
As she loses consciousness, she hears his voice, muffled by the roaring in her head.
She sees his face.
Those endless black eyes.
And then she succumbs to the darkness.
Aaand a belated happy moon lovers anniversary to all of you!
Till next time x
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