The river rolled peacefully before the prow, sparkling in the sun. Several li up ahead, it would widen out and meet the sea, but so far, not much could be seen through the trees. Red leaves would occasionally flutter down and be swept away in the current.
Yo eyed Hae Soo as she sat in an elegantly draped armchair on the large royal barque. He adjusted the quiver hanging at his back, watching her under the pretense of stringing his bow. The autumn sunlight came through the fringed tassels of the sunshade, casting odd shadows onto her peacefully smiling face and onto her deep eyes. From where he stood at the prow, Yo could not quite make out where her eyes had their focus, but she seemed to notice his gaze, for she lifted a hand in an amused half-wave.
Crossing the deck, Yo leaned against the back of her chair. "Enjoying yourself?" he inquired.
"Of course," Soo said, inclining her head. "Your Majesty is most gracious."
"This?" Yo said with perhaps more incredulity than the situation merited (for he felt as if he needed to show how great he was). "This is nothing. If you wish for such things to happen every day – it would be more than easy."
Soo's lips thinned, but her eyes sparkled. "You'll find, Your Majesty, that I am not so demanding."
"Oh, I know," Yo said, smirking. He lowered his voice, leaning down to speak next to her ear. "I can be demanding enough for both of us."
"I know that, Your Majesty," Soo said dryly, biting her lips to hide a smile as she always did.
The breeze picked up, blowing towards them, lifting their hair, long red leaves flying at them like flaming arrows. Yo plucked one out of the air. "Then," he said, "Give into my demands, my queen, and wear robes in this color for me tomorrow."
"Hmm… Do I even have one like this?" Soo mused. 'Ah, no refusal,' Yo thought, keeping himself from a triumphant smile.
"You will," Yo said, "Tomorrow."
"Then it seems I have no choice," Soo said with a small smile. "Your Majesty has a good eye."
Yo smirked. "Of course I do," he said.
Then, hearing overhead, from far away the sounds of geese, he leapt down onto the narrow prow, reaching over his shoulder for an arrow and nocking it as his keen eyes took in the triangular formation of birds. A pause, a smirk, and he loosed his arrow.
Just as he turned towards Soo again, the dead bird fell to the deck between them, startling an attendant with a bowl of fruit for the queen.
Looking back, dead birds may not have been the best way to show his affection, nor to show off his prodigious skills. Soo's eye twitched, and one corner of her mouth lifted while the other dipped. "Oh," she said.
Currently, however, Yo was extremely proud of himself as he hefted the goose, grinning up at her. "What do you think, little wife?" he asked, with perhaps more eagerness than he would ever care to admit.
/
'He's like a cat. Hunting and then bringing dead birds to me. And that expression… So smug,' Soo thought, unable to keep from laughing aloud. "Good shot, Your Majesty," she said through her giggles.
/
Woo Hee crossed her arms as Won smiled, lifting a cup to her in a wordless toast. By the sharp wind that swirled in through the open window, she could tell that autumn was well afoot, and by the unfathomable look in Won's eyes that something else was afoot, also. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"Would you believe me if I said it was for the pleasure of your company alone?" Won asked mildly.
"The knife in my bodice thinks otherwise," Woo Hee said, her lips thinning.
"You really don't like me, do you…" Won sighed, shaking his head. "A joke. It was but a joke," he said. "I'm here to inform you of a few things. Yo doesn't trust So enough to stay even in the same realm with him, and what will likely happen is that he will be sent to Khitan as an ambassador. Out of sight, out of mind."
"Again?" Woo Hee asked. "He's been in Khitan before, hasn't he?"
"Again." Won's smile widened. "But he won't be going. Someone else will go instead, someone who's loyal to So, whoever that may be. A prince, with the right mannerisms and education to be a good ambassador. I'll change the announcements to Khitan so that they can expect him. But we need someone who can take on that role for a while. Perhaps you can suggest a candidate?"
"You," Woo Hee said flatly.
Won clutched at his chest dramatically, chuckling. "I'm wounded, dear lady – you want to get rid of me?" He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I will have to inflict my presence on Goryeo for a little while longer. Would you consider my suggestion, then?"
"I'm not going to consider anything before you tell me what it is," Woo Hee said, crossing her arms.
Won shook his head, smiling a little. "You remind me very much of my sister when you do that," he said. Woo Hee stared at him, trying to fathom how a single remark like that could put her so on edge as she was now. "But that's beside the point," he said with a sigh. "My suggestion is thus; Baek Ah."
Woo Hee didn't miss a beat. "No."
"Oh, so you don't want him to be out of harm's way during what will essentially be the beginning of a civil war?" Arching both eyebrows Won cocked his head to the side.
"Yes, Khitan – so much safer," Woo Hee threw back sarcastically. "I am not allowing Baek Ah to be thrown into the lion's den."
Won's small smile and shake of the head were oddly soft. "Ah, but if I were to ask him, what would his answer be? You see, it's his choice, ultimately."
"Ultimately, it's Wang So's choice," snapped Woo Hee. "And Baek Ah happens to be his favorite brother." She picked up a fan, idly opening and closing it, a nervous gesture at odds with the steely anger in her eyes.
"Yes, dear Baek Ah is quite popular," drawled Won, "Which might make him rather displeasing to our current monarch. Yo is already suspicious. Baek Ah will have to be careful in Khitan, but unlike here, he isn't specifically wanted dead."
Woo Hee's gaze was sharp as she turned on Won. "Wang Yo specifically wants Baek Ah dead?"
"He is suspicious. And we all know what happens when the king is suspicious – look at Wook." He paused. "Or, rather, you can't." He paused again, getting no response from Woo Hee. "Because he's dead."
Woo Hee's lips pulled together in one tight line as she snapped her fan closed.
/
A smile. A glance over the rim of a teacup. A gleaming sword and a rearing horse. Each piece of armor reflecting the starry sky as it falls to the ground. Whispered words. "Will I be a good king?"
The stars are immovable. A smile. A pain lancing through the chest. A lie. "The best."
/
"What do you see in those stars, my Lord Astronomer?"
Ji Mong started, turning away from the sky and towards the approaching ninth prince. "The throne," he said quietly.
"Ah, yes. Goryeo's golden throne, the only thing keeping the three kingdoms together." Won smiled.
"As it should." Picking a fight with the ninth prince was not wise, but Ji Mong did not feel entirely wise tonight. Leaning against the battlements, a bottle in his hand, he had so little to lose… And yet, what could he do? He remained unmoving.
Won took a few steps forward to face him, torchlight flickering across his face. "It seems almost to bely belief that through your stellar guidance my father was able to take it for his own."
"I only read the stars, Your Highness. Taejo Wang Geon's victory was his own doing," Ji Mong said, lowering his head in the beginnings of a bow.
"You disappoint me, Ji Mong," Won said, shaking his head, smiling widely. "What of the four generals that directed him and the nobles who backed them? History is useless – why do we even remember it?"
"We write down our history so that we do not repeat the same mistakes again," Ji Mong said mildly.
Won gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "History was written by the conquerors. A lie that we repeat over and over until we forget it's a lie, just like the throne, or the realm, or power."
"Power resides where people believe it resides, nothing more, nothing less. Loyalty is power."
"And people's loyalties are such fickle things, aren't they? Swayed by the clink of coin, a woman's sigh, a whisper in the right ear…" Won's low voice was full of amusement.
"Not everyone is so easily corrupted," Ji Mong argued.
Won raised an eyebrow. "Corrupted? Such a strong word. If I were to tell you one thing that is true in history, is that no matter how honorable someone is, there is something they will not give up for their beliefs." He spread his arms. "Even the most stalwart can be persuaded, if not with the promise of pleasure, then with a dagger pressed against their throat, or a noose around a loved one's neck."
Unable to resist a smile, Ji Mong shrugged. "And that is why an honorable man with nothing to lose is the most fearsome thing in the world." 'Once he learns to let Lady Soo go, he will be unstoppable. He should understand. It's the sacrifice everyone has to make to gain the throne,' Ji Mong thought. 'And I… I will get my revenge, honorable or not.'
"Oh, everyone has something to lose. You just have to look closely."
"You have such a cynical worldview. I worry about you, you know, Your Highness," Ji Mong said wryly.
"Cynical? Far from it. I'm honest. I know the truth when I see it, and I cannot bring myself to lie to myself. That's the worst kind of liar, you know. One who lies to himself." His smile was wide. "No – I love the truth. And the truth is the game, Ji Mong. The game you play, the game I play, that the Hubaekje princess plays, that Lord Park plays, Lord Wang plays, Queen Yoo… All of us play it." Won shrugged, smiling. "Whether you enjoy it or not is a different question entirely, but the truth remains. The game remains."
Ji Mong wanted to shudder a little, but he only inclined his head a little.
Wang Won inclined his head also. "Thank you. Our conversation has been most enlightening," he said.
Ji Mong bowed to his retreating back, his usually mild eyes filled with a burning hatred.
/
It was the dead of summer; the cicadas wouldn't shut up, and Chungju sweltered in the sunlight. The third queen's manse stood on its hill, bearing the full brunt of the punishing heat. "Hey!" Yo shouted, rapping on the doorframe with his knuckles. "Get your nose out of your dusty texts – it's time to train!"
From inside the room, there was a rustling, a muffled curse and a thump – Tae had probably tripped, again – and finally, the second prince was at the door, topknot askew, an ink-smudge on his round cheek. He peered at Yo, and Yo realized with a twinge that Tae's vision was getting even worse. "Oh, gods…" he muttered. "I was right in the middle of a good book, too…"
"You'll finish it after we're done," Yo said dismissively.
"You could benefit from reading a bit more, you know," Tae said. "Military strategy, governance… Things you need to know. It is taxing but useful – you could learn a lot from me, Yo."
Yo looked flatly at Tae. "Yes, and I suppose learning to stumble around like a blind cow comes as part of the deal?" he teased.
"Now, is that any way to speak to your elders and betters?" Tae asked mildly, smiling to show he was joking.
Yo raised his eyebrows and smirked arrogantly. "Elder you may be, Tae, but tell me about 'betters' when you're able to keep hold of your sword for more than a minute. Jung's more of a challenge than you are."
Tae looked ruefully down at his pale, pudgy hands, stained with ink – holding no calluses from sword or bow. "I would be offended that you compared me to a seven-year-old, but I know you're right. I stand corrected," he muttered. "I suppose Mother wishes to humiliate me by having you train me today, again?"
Yo shrugged. "Something like that," he admitted. "I'll go easy."
Tae rolled his eyes. "A little difficult when she's breathing down your neck and shrieking, 'No mercy!', isn't it, Yo?" he admonished, holding out his arm and pulling his sleeve up to expose a bruise.
"If you'd fight back, maybe that wouldn't happen," Yo grumbled, hiding the little blossom of guilt rising in him under more snark. "Sometimes I can't believe you're older than me."
"Oh, come on. Yes, you can. I'm still quite a bit taller than you." Tae stroked his round chin and grinned. "I could even grow a beard if I wanted."
That was a sore point for Yo, who hadn't started his growth spurt yet. "Let's go already," he said quickly, dragging Tae out by his other arm.
In the training yard, Yo tossed Tae a wooden practice sword, but his older brother fumbled and managed to hit himself in the head with it, stumbling a little. The sun was out and shining, and the yard was empty, the whickering of horses from the stables nearby barely audible. Yo had already finished archery practice, and the well-perforated targets had been moved out of the way to give more space to the sparring princes.
Yo moved into a stance, and Tae did so as well, fixing his failing eyes on Yo. "Now's the time to 'go easy,' as you said," he suggested.
Smirking, Yo shook his head. "It never makes a difference anyway, does it?"
"It's the thought that counts." Tae smiled a little and charged.
There was a clatter as their 'blades' met, and Yo easily pushed Tae back. He darted forward and tapped his brother's leg. "Watch that," he called, "Or you'll be one leg short in a battle."
Tae just barely parried a blow from Yo. "And how many battles have you been in, little brother?" he panted.
"More than you!" Yo retorted, tapping Tae's shoulder and dancing out of reach, blowing his hair out of his face.
"Beating up Won when he steals your desserts isn't a real battle- Ouch!" Tae laughed breathlessly, then got knocked in the arm by Yo, a little harder than before.
The first sparring match ended with Tae's wooden sword spinning from his hand, and Yo's poking Tae in the chest. Tae raised his hands. "I yield," he said, trying to get his breath back.
"You're dead," Yo retorted. "Let's do that again, but this time, actually watch my sword."
Tae shook his head. "Such disrespect to your elder brother…" he sighed. "In a contest of intellectual pursuits, I would have you, you insolent boy." He rubbed the back of his sleeve across his damp face.
Yo smirked. "I'll move more slowly this time, Honored Elder Brother," he replied. "Be sure not to trip over your sword, oh Wise One of Many Talents."
Yo thought he could hear his older brother muttering something like, "You little shit…" but he could have been wrong. Picking up his sword, Tae swung at Yo but missed, and Yo tapped him across his ample stomach with a laugh.
"Are you even trying?"
Tae stumbled and caught himself. "Yes," he snapped indignantly. "Trying and succeeding aren't the same thing, though," he added ruefully.
Yo rolled his eyes. "Come on. Don't leave yourself open."
Tae grumbled something rude and moved into a careful stance, Yo mirroring him. The dust settled under their boots and they stood still, evaluating each other, or rather, Tae evaluating Yo, and Yo forcing himself to be patient. His bored gaze flicked from the stables to the gates, to the manse, then up to the balcony.
Queen Yoo met her son's eyes from where she sat.
How long had she been watching? Yo knew she disapproved when he laughed with Tae, when he showed him kindness and treated him as more-or-less an equal. And now she looked at him, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do, torn between his duty to his mother and love for his older brother. If Tae tried harder to train instead of reading and writing all the time, maybe Mother would treat him better! She fixed him with her gaze and said something neither of them could hear.
But Yo knew what it was. "Don't be weak."
When Tae charged again, Yo parried his blow with much more force than necessary, spinning him off balance, and hitting him in the knee. Tae let out a cry and went down on his other knee, bringing his arms up to shield himself from a third blow.
Yo felt sick, but only drew back for a moment, giving Tae enough time to rise, then rushed him again, hitting him on the wrist before he could bring his sword up to block. The wooden sword spun from his older brother's grip and fell to the ground, dust puffing up around it.
He was full of energy, pulsing with a frenzy of it. Tae picked his sword up, resignation to being beaten in his eyes, and Yo pushed down the guilt as he pounded blow after blow on his older brother, Tae only blocking half.
Up on the balcony, Queen Yoo smiled. In that moment, as he looked up at his mother for validation, Yo missed a blow that was supposed to land on the side of Tae's shoulder.
There was a sickening crack.
Yo had hit Tae in the side of the head. Tae went down like a sack of rice, crumpling to the ground. His wide open, unseeing eyes reflected the sky.
For a moment that lasted as long as a millennium, Yo simply stood there, numb, staring. Tae's mouth was partially open, as if about to say something, knees folded underneath himself, arms flung out askew. His round face was pale, oddly colored, a trickle of blood making a thin strip down his temple.
Yo dropped his sword and fell to his knees beside Tae.
A voice he didn't recognize as his kept saying, "Get up!" Trembling hands reached out and kept shaking Tae's shoulder, but Tae did not move at all. Yo's face was all wet but it wasn't raining.
For a moment, it felt as if he was some other boy, looking down on the sprawled second prince and incoherently blabbering third prince. 'What's wrong with him?' that distant boy asked. 'Why is he like that?'
A voice answered, speaking the truth, and it did not belong to him, either.
When he looked up at the balcony for help with red-rimmed eyes, Queen Yoo was gone and he was well and truly alone.
That night, there was a thunderstorm.
Three days later, in a small act of rebellion, an exhausted, grieving prince finished a book that his older brother would never get to.
/
Yo shot up in bed, his breaths hoarse, shoulders heaving, strands of hair falling down into his face. For a moment, he clutched at his wildly beating heart, and when that calmed, he rose, throwing a golden over-robe over his shoulders, pulling his boots on.
He made barely any sound as he crossed the floorboards, down the hallway to Soo's heavily-guarded room. The guards said nothing as he slipped inside.
The inside was pitch dark, but for a pale stripe of starlight through a gap in the window. Unsure of how to announce his presence, Yo paused, but the window suddenly flew open, and Soo sat up in bed, a crossbow in one hand, a string that stretched from the shutters in the other. 'ingenious,' is Yo's first thought. His second thought was something less coherent.
Hae Soo was radiant. Her eyes burned with a determination he had seen only a few times before, and her hands did not shake as she pointed the crossbow at him. Her eyes seemed to glow in the half-light, and her hair, down around her shoulders, gleamed and lifted on the breeze like the wings of a raven. His mouth suddenly felt dry. Something about a beautiful woman pointing a weapon at him… This sight was not one he disliked.