Synopsis: "Stopping the abdication will mean war." The Prime Minister refuses to relinquish his life-long dream.

A/N: This is the first part of a one-shot, war-time series. The engagement, and subsequent baby plot, doesn't exist in this 'verse. Our leading lady isn't a consort. Can also be read on my tumblr account.

Opheliac: (n.) a person who has delved into madness.

He who opens his heart to ambition closes it to peace. A Chinese saying.

Part I:

This, was years before: the Jackal and her group of silent, shabby men (as well as a few all-too-young boys) watched as their kneeling companion tossed back his head. Then screamed out his anguish, his eyes screwed shut as tears rolled down his gaunt cheeks. Again, and again, the young man roared his anger, his grief, until he hunched over and clutched at his head.

Seungnyang drew in a deep breath, then closed her eyes for a long moment, listening as the others shuffled their feet, unsure of their next move. After a long beat, she stood upright, squared her shoulders, and opened her eyes. She strode over to the kneeling man. "We must leave," she implored softly.

The man—Woonha, dark eyes, unkempt ponytail, bloodied knuckles—nodded slowly. He pushed himself to his feet and expelled a gushing sigh, his eyes focused on the blood-red horizon. Then, after swallowing thickly between breaths, Woonha finally sent the fresh grave before him one last look.

"Leader … I hate them," said the man—who had searched for his sister for endless days and nights, only to discover that she had been taken as a female tribute; who had worked tirelessly with the Jackal in the hope that his only living relative would be the next girl to be saved; who had rescued her, and then lost her because of her liar of an owner. "Curse them, and all of Yuan."

Seungnyang only nodded tiredly, staring listlessly ahead at the approaching dawn. Another day, another fight against Yuan. As Woonha headed back to the group, loudly dragging his heels across leaves and stones, the lone Jackal sent a cursory glance toward the grave before walking away.

Never looking back.

This, was years later: the former palace maid sat silently near the camp-fire, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her breath plumed white in the frosty air; as she inhaled, there was a twinge of pain in her lungs, and she couldn't help shuddering because of the cold. But, instead of walking around to regain some heat, she unsheathed her sword to inspect its well-used edges.

Rather putter around than show even a hint of weakness to the enemy. But could her closest companions—her allies, in fact—be called that? She shook her head discreetly. Her companions were from Yuan, and that meant enemy to some of her countrymen … but it was the men of Yuan she was supporting, in the hope that each and every member of El Temur's clan would be eliminated.

To her right, Bayan sat garbed in fur, head bowed as he whittled a slab of wood into some sort of figurine. His bushy brows were furrowed as he concentrated. Near his side, standing slightly behind him, were Choeldan and Musin, the two guards who had been shadowing the Governor (and his nephew) for as long as Seungnyang could remember.

To her left, clothed in black as usual, was her teacher, the renowned strategist, Taltal. Mutely, he observed their camp and the surrounding soldiers with a gimlet eye; his sword rested against his shoulder, and his fingers idly caressed the worn surface of the sheath. His face was half-in-shadow, half-in-firelight.

And, yet again, she couldn't help thinking: how did I get here?

(The answer was simple enough: the Prime Minister had to be removed from his position, and a sudden forks in the road had taken her down a different, unexpected path resulting in her becoming General Bayan's henchman).

Who would have thought that this would have happened?

Shaking her head slowly, Seungnyang traced a fingertip across the cool blade of her sword before sheathing it. With a grunt, she pushed herself up to her feet, then patted her hands down her dirty trousers, all the while ignoring how the Governor cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'll take my leave, Lord Bayan," she muttered, then bowed respectfully when the man nodded, his eyes narrowed, assessing.

Seungnyang turned on her heel and strode away, not too hastily but not too slowly either. She had her head raised, displaying necessary confidence but not arrogance; she swept her gaze across the campsite, looking for a suitable spot to rest, not too far from the Governor but not too close to any unsavoury characters. There, she thought as she caught a glimpse of a lone boulder sitting beside a fallen mammoth of a tree trunk.

She had just taken three steps in the direction of her destination when Choeldan sidled up to her side, prompting her to freeze mid-step. Seungnyang watched his every move out of the corner of her eye.

"You should …" Choeldan advised, but then shrugged his shoulders as he looked pointedly around at the paired-off soldiers who were huddling close together. "You're no use to me and tomorrow's scouting mission if you become sick."

In lieu of responding, Seungnyang sent him a long, hard look. They locked eyes for a silent moment, and then Choeldan bowed his head before retreating, wildly carding his fingers through his hair as he returned to Musin's side. With an amused quirk of her lips, Seungnyang walked on and chafed some feeling into her frozen hands.

As she stomped past a few archers slumbering against a pile of saddles, she felt prickling of awareness skirt across her skin. She was being watched. But Seungnyang refused to look around, and instead focused on counting the numerous weapons she had hidden on her person. Satisfied, she sat down with her back toward the boulder before flopping over onto her side.

Then exhaled a sigh when the breeze abruptly picked up, sending the strands of her shoulder-length hair into her eyes.

It was going to be a long night.

Her dreams were always the same, and they were—without a doubt—her only constant companion since she (and many others) had fled the prison that was the imperial palace. Most nights, her subconscious plagued her with images of a family whole and hale, of her mother, father, and brothers living together. Happily.

Those dreams should have been deemed as the worst fantasies imaginable, should have been seen as nightmares, but they weren't. No, it was the memory of the calm before the storm that troubled her the most.

The time before the warring between the factions, before the Prime Minister's wrath had forced the Emperor and his supporters to scatter across Yuan to buy some valuable time, before the failed abdication, before the murder of Consort Pak and her entourage, before.

It was the time before that reminded her of the innocent (and not-so-innocent) lives lost—Dokman, Yeonhwa, Golta, Byungsoo, Hongdan. Thinking about the dead made her choke with suppressed grief, and made her nights utterly miserable. It was going to be a too-long, too-cold night, was her revised observation after having started awake yet again.

Her breath puffed out before her in clouds of white, and as she rolled over onto her side for the hundredth time, her stiff fingers caught on the edge of a worn, woven straw blanket that had been draped over her legs sometime during the course of the night. Who—? But a second later, Seungnyang clicked her tongue as she rubbed her thumb across the fraying patch of embroidery that marked the blanket as Choeldan's.

Seungnyang sighed, falling back in a boneless heap on the ground. The fool wasn't cold, then—the fool was a madman. With a rueful shake of her head, she tugged at the blanket one last time before shutting her eyes. Calmly waiting for sleep to come, for she would rather live through her nightmares than acknowledge the kind acts of certain allies.

The morning dawned overcast and gloomy, and the small, cheerless scouting party went off in all directions with the promise to meet up at the designated landmark at sunset. A lethargic Seungnyang, as always, happily went off alone.

Should have known this was going to happen, Seungnyang lamented as she chanced yet another glance over her shoulder, eying Choeldan and Musin as they conversed in undertones about this and that. She shook her head and looked back at the surrounding merchant town. Suspicious guards and their confounded loyalty.

With a silent groan, Seungnyang settled back against the wall, tugged on the scarf she had draped over her head (as well as her lips), and crossed her arms. Then glanced back at the two guards, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere more than an hour ago, informing her that since she was done with her little 'errand', she should accompany them into the little town.

Musin headed toward her. "Wait here," he commanded, his head canted to the side as he watched something in the distance. He came to a sudden stop, then nodded at Choeldan—who drew in a short breath—and walked on. "Wait there, Seungnyang!"

A silent Seungnyang watched as the duo shouldered their way through a gaggle of arguing, shabby men (as well as a few all-too-young boys) before heading down a bustling side-street. For a moment, she feigned nonchalance; then, casting a look around her, she walked after the guards, telling herself that it wouldn't be the first time that she had had to rescue one of Bayan's men. And it was a long walk back; if they were delayed for some reason, then they'd probably be left behind, since the Governor was moving on into the wild at sunset.

With that in mind, Seungnyang crossed the street before rushing down a narrow corridor between two businesses. She nearly continued into the second, less-crowded avenue when she noticed Choeldan and Musin at the last moment. Pressing her back against the wall of the larger building—a tea house, she noticed at a glance—Seungnyang inhaled quietly, then peeked over her shoulder.

Choeldan and Musin were standing with their backs toward a meat stall, the former watching his surroundings with eagle eyes while the latter seemed to be listening intently to a bejewelled man dressed in a fine robe. Her first thought: one of the spies Taltal had planted around the Prime Minister? Her second: they clearly still didn't trust her.

Lips pursed, Seungnyang contemplated her dusty boots for a while before drawing herself up. A beat, then she turned on her heel to face the corridor; at that moment, a young, somewhat familiar man appeared before her, his raised hand holding up a club. Which came down before she could even react, landing loudly on her brow.

"Leader—don't—!"

The dirt-path rushed up to meet her, then there was only darkness.

"What did you do?" said the muffled voice.

"… should leave."

"What if her companions come looking?"

With difficulty, Seungnyang swallowed past the growing cottony lump in her throat and raised her head, blearily eying the hard-packed ground below her. She considered rolling over onto her back, but her head throbbed painfully (oh, that was going to hurt for a while) and the sudden, angry exchange behind her reminded her of her situation.

Stay calm, you can get through this.

She dropped her cheek and sighed at the cool comfort of the ground beneath her. Moist blades of grass brushed against Seungnyang's lips as she shifted slightly, testing her limbs for any injuries, any bindings.

Stay calm.

Her shoulder ached.

Not too bad.

Her knee felt bruised.

Her hands were tightly bound, and she was parched, too parched, how long have I been unconscious? But the sound of nearing footsteps ceased all thought, and her heart skipped a beat when she turned her head—far above the treetops, the lucent night sky was embroidered with a thousand stars. She pursed her lips. Had Choeldan and Musin returned to camp without looking for her? Would they look for her?

(Yes, they would. No, Bayan had to move on—it was crucial to not remain in one place for too long. He would leave. Perhaps. No—yes. No).

"Leader, leader?"

Seungnyang froze, frowning.

She knew that voice. Knew it. It—he—Minjin? Minjin, who had saved her life when Wangyu had wanted to end it; who had been so loyal, so young; who had instantly and eagerly volunteered to hold up one of the lids in the archery competition. Minjin, it couldn't be him.

Inhaling sharply, Seungnyang rolled over onto her back. Then bit into the flesh of her quivering lip as the knot of anxiety in her stomach slowly loosened.

"Leader … leader," Minjin breathed, brushing his hair out of his face as he sat on his haunches, leaning over slightly to get a closer look at her, "what were you doing with those two—"

"What are you doing in Yuan?" Seungnyang interrupted hoarsely, and she could feel herself going cross-eyed. She shook her head.

"But—"

Another familiar man stepped into her line of sight. "Do you think I care?" It was quiet, supportive Nuhyun, the big brother who had kept everyone in line. A calm man of few words. Now, though, his face was set in a frown of confusion. "Why? The Jackal is a woman. Leader, you … for so long." Sadness threaded through his voice.

Minjin and Nuhyun, as well as the shadowed figures lurking behind them, stared at her as if she were a riddle they couldn't solve.

"I ask again," Seungnyang entreated quietly as she wriggled into an upright position, leaning back slightly so that her shoulder was pressed against the tree trunk. Minjin quickly gave her a helping hand, "what are you doing in Yuan? Don't you know how dangerous it is—haven't you heard?"

One of the spectators stepped closer. "We've heard rumors, alright." It was a sneering Woonha, who was occupied with digging the wax out of his large ears. Who had been so angry, so ruthless, especially toward the people of Yuan; who had plumed into the depths of despair after the loss of his sister, and had irrevocably changed; who—if she remembered correctly—had hit her over the head earlier in the day.

"Our dethroned King," Minjin added, wholly unaware of everything but her presence. He quickly tugged at the knot keeping her bound hands together, all the while ignoring how Woonha squawked in outrage, "is in league with the Prime Minister." His sad eyes gleamed with despair.

There were murmurs of discontent all around her.

Seungnyang did her best to control her features, but even then her heart skipped a beat (traitor!) and a light blush mantled her cheeks. Months had passed since she had seen Wangyu face to face, but … even now she—Seungnyang screwed her eyes shut before inhaling a calming breath.

"Where are we?" Seungnyang murmured in a breathless rush as she looked up at the heavens. What should she do now? Attempt to track down the group? Or return to Goryeo with her former 'family'? Which one?

"The town …" Minjin responded slowly, pointing a shaking finger behind him, "is that-a-way." He promptly fell silent, watching intently as she surveyed every familiar and unfamiliar face around her.

Eventually, she found herself staring at Minjin; her thoughts, however, scattered off in all directions before settling on the memory of (loyal, sweet, dead) Hongdan. Her breathing hitched. It was a long while before she spoke, and then it was with utmost caution. "I must go," she declared, slowly rising on unsteady feet. She had to track down the group, had to continue down the path she had chosen. There was no way back.

"But—" Nuhyun began.

In the distance, a voice called out, "There you are!"

Startled cries echoed all around Seungnyang, who turned around slowly (instead of pivoting on her heel like the others) to face the two approaching men. Disbelief coursed through her veins as a belated gasp shot from her lips.

It was Bayan. And Taltal, standing silently at his uncle's side. Moonlight limned their silhouettes and made their armor gleam subtlety.

Seungnyang blinked owlishly at the sight. What? What were they—? What were they doing? And where was Choeldan? And Musin? She shook her head to try to clear away the excess thoughts.

Bayan gestured at her. "We were looking for you." His eyes were practically slits as he watched Seungnyang and her companions with an expression that she had only seen during special occasions. To others, it would seem that he was wholly amused, but she knew better.

His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword.

Woonha looked at the Governor, then back at Seungnyang. "Have you gone mad?"

Abruptly, she became aware of the fact that she was the unwilling centre of attention. Seungnyang shuffled her feet, glanced up at the canopy of swaying boughs, and only then looked between her countrymen and her allies. She bit her lip. "You said you were leaving at sunset."

"I did," was Bayan's swift response.

Seungnyang felt herself stepping forward but Minjin grasped her upper arm.

"Leader?" He sounded so lost.

Seungnyang ducked her head. Contemplated the situation for a moment. "I have a tiger to skin," she explained softly, then steeled herself. "You all should go, return to Goryeo. Take care of your families."

"What 'bout you, Leader?" Nuhyun asked, turning beseeching eyes toward her.

Seungnyang gnawed on her lower lip. "I don't know if I'd ever return."

With that, she bowed her head slightly and walked off with purpose. It was only when she had reached her commander's side that she looked up.

"Are you fine?" Bayan asked.

"Yes, Lord Bayan." Seungnyang lightly touched her bloodied brow, but then froze when she noted how Taltal was watching her. It wasn't the first time, as he personally knew, that she had experienced a head injury. "Just a bruise."

Bayan nodded, almost reluctantly. "Who are they?" he asked, gesturing toward the group standing a few paces behind her.

"My countrymen …" she breathed, "we worked together." I used to call them 'family'. It took everything for her to not look away.

"Uncle," Taltal spoke up, his eyes finally flicking back to Bayan, "we should go."

But Bayan casted another look over her shoulder, grunting softly. Only then did he turn around, striding toward two grazing horses that had been left alone in the nearby lea. Taltal, after making sure that his uncle had mounted his steed, turned back to her.

Again, it took everything for her to not look away, to not look over her shoulder.

Seungnyang took one step forward, then another; finally, after squaring her shoulders, she walked on, the strategist at her side. It was only when she had come to a stop beside the second, riderless horse that she was uncertain of her next move. She didn't get to voice a question or two, for Taltal set his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle.

Then held out his hand to her.

At once, Seungnyang took it. But when she was pressed up against his back, she couldn't help wondering exactly where she had to place her hands. The waist, the shoulders, the upper arms?

"You go ahead first, Uncle." Taltal then glanced at her over his shoulder. "Put your arms … around me."

Seungnyang did as she was told.

And still, she didn't look back at her countrymen. Didn't even move an inch when her head started throbbing in time with the horse's gallop. Only when they had passed the town line did Seungnyang peek over her shoulder.

By then it was too late.

A/N: I re-watched episodes one and two but I couldn't tell if the two men (or rather man and boy) from Seungnyang's crew/gang/'family' had names. So, if they did have names, then I'll remove 'Minjin' and 'Nuhyun'. And, uh, I hope you liked this!