"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

—Lao Tzu

AD 900

It is a cool morning with a soft breeze in the great estate of China. Wang Yao, the nation of China—Tang himself, his little wards Kiku and Mei are having breakfast when the letter that changes everything arrives.

"Well?"

The servant who has been bowing in front of him is quaking.

"Well? Must I repeat myself?"

There is a menacing tone in the man's voice and the servant stutters.

"It...It is from Silla, my Lord."

"Why is Silla's king sending me a letter?"

Yao continues eating his dumplings as Kiku and Mei silently kick each other on the shins under the table out of boredom. Mei misses and hits Yao instead, who gives her a glare made of iron.

"It.. It was from Lady Silla."

Oh.

Now all of them are staring at the letter from the Kingdom of Silla, the only survivor of the Three Kingdoms. Yao is handed a jeweled letter opener and he carefully opens his letter. As he reads, there is a look of surprise and betrayal, along with anger on his delicate features.

China glares at the letter he has received.

"Lady Silla has given birth...to twins?"

"Yes, my lord."

Wang Yao stares at the neat chinese characters written by Silla—in her country's tongue, Kim Sul-Ha—then hurls the letter out of the window.

Seeing his older sibling upset, Kiku—who is better known as Japan lifts an eyebrow.

"Lady Silla is Lord Baekjae's sister, isn't she?"

"Yes, she was."

Mei—Taiwan corrects her brother figure before seeing the look on China's visage, now quieting. There is a very long pause as they recall the fall of Goguryeo and Baekjae.

China manages to calm himself, then stands.

"I will be leaving for Keomseung."

"My lord..."

"Prepare the ships."

As the servant scurried away, muttering about masters doing anything they pleased, Yao glared at nothing in particular. He was the great Tang dynasty, but even he could not do anything about Silla.

The youngest of the Three Kingdoms and the only survivor, the girl had a way of making people want to protect her. She had been the shy one, while Baekjae had been the outgoing one; the beautiful lad had even made ties with Kiku, ever solitary and quiet. And there was Goguryeo—the daring, fierce one. He knew that the two lads had been a part of Silla's foster family, but he had not hesitated in killing them. Silla had cried and cried, but she knew it was necessary and she had put aside her feelings. Now, though... China put a hand on his face.

'Please tell me that there is no father, that such a calamity never existed...'

Keomseung was peaceful, but there was anything but peace in the great house of Silla.

"Lord Yao! Please calm yourself."

One of Silla's maids tried to stop him as he walked briskly into the household, even before a page had announced his arrival.

"Where is your lady?"

"She is in her room—she needs her rest, sir-"

He did not care about Silla and her rest at this point, and he roughly pushed the girl aside despite all her complaints, throwing open the doors.

Silla was a beautiful nation—everyone knew it, and everyone–anyone would lay eyes on her and talk of it. But as the nation lay on the bed, obviously too tired to complain, her hair strewn out from its usual elaborate curls, China could notice something. Silla, his very trusted, lovely and loved 'partner' was dying. Her eyes flickered, staring at him as if he was a person appearing in a faraway dream—then closed.

"Why, you foolish girl?"

She didn't answer him.

"You should have told me, at least given me a tip—this is too sudden, this I could not expect-"

Was it despair clouding his gaze? No, it was not. It was anger, burning, hot anger and betrayal—look at that beautiful flower, Yao-nim—it reminds me of your eyes—a glorious smile, a dance, and many, many bitter tears.

'You would have killed them."

She replied in that soft, melodious voice of hers.Them. Of course the girl was a mother, and yes, China would have forced her to give up her offspring. But still, it hurt not to be informed.

"The father. What of him?"

"Dead. You killed them."

Again, the word them. Why was she even saying the word him in plural? Silla refused to answer. There was crying from the cradle next to her, and Silla picked up a bundle of silk. Her hands shook, and Yao could see how thin, how tired she was—even the earrings, the gold decorations could not hide the truth. There was a messenger waiting for the girl, and his name was Death. She was weary, his Silla—and she would fade.

"Hush, don't cry, my son. You must be strong like your father."

As she crooned to the bundle—or the child in it, China couldn't help a criminal impulse to strangle the thing. He was the reason Silla was weak, and Silla would fade because of him. The baby stopped crying almost immeditately, and the mother slowly arranged herself in a sitting position.

The boy stank of Goguryeo. His cries for his mother sounded more like the war cries the general had made during battle—yes, the lad had been a general, his hands were wrapped into fists. A born fighter that needed to be eliminated.

"I heard you had twins. Where is the other boy?"

"Girl."

She corrected him as the door opened and an older, more kindly lady appeared with a second bundle.

"My lady, your daughter..."

"Give her to me."

Yao cut into the talk, and Silla's maid quaked under his gaze—of course, the lady-in-waiting would know about him, his bloody reign and history.

"My lady..."

"Yes. You may give him the child."

Gingerly, the maid handed him her precious cargo, giving him sideways glances all the while.

The girl was nothing like Goguryeo for a change—she was not crying or kicking, and she looked peaceful, her eyes closed. While the twins looked alike, they were diverging in personality already. Just like Goguryeo and Baekjae.

Silla sighed, and leaned on her pillow, a hand protectively caressing her newborn.

"Yao-nim, please don't hate my children."

So she knew. How could she not know, anyhow—after what he had done for her? Her own good?

"They are sapping your strength."

"They are not the reason I am weak."

He knew about that, knew about the money the rich were squandering, knew that the poor were dying in Silla. Keomseung was the only place in Silla that showed no signs of upheaval, the prospering capital city.

"What will become of your children?"

He almost hoped he wouldn't hear her answer, that he would suddenly become deaf—but Silla spoke and he heard.

"I don't know."

Her gaze was blank, staring at her son, now sleeping.

"Silla, you must grow strong again. Think of your children."

He tried to persuade her as he had done many times—it had usually worked with Silla's apologies, her words that she would try harder.

"Yao-nim, I'm so tired. I... I can't try anymore."

Silla was weak—although he didn't want to believe it, the nation was crumbling while her eyes were still vibrant. She knew it as well—there was no point in hiding what they all knew. She was dying—and she needed him for something. A purpose he dreaded and did not care for at all.

"Your boy, I will raise it."

There was a long silence.

"You?"

"Is there another me in this room? This is why you asked for me, is it not... cruel child?"

Yao hated the fact that the boy also belonged to two dead nations which he loathed, but this was Silla's child and also a new nation. There could be an exception—after all, it would be useful, useful in the terms that it would do for him what its mother would have never done.

"Give me the young lord."

The nation nodded her head as she spoke, hope sparking in her eyes as she pressed a kiss on her son's head.

"You will take good care of them?"

"Since when did I say anything about them?"

It was either the boy or the girl—he could not—would not take both. It was an insult to him, that he would have to raise a piece of his enemy as his ward, and it was insult to injury if he had to take two pieces of those beings even if that meant it was two pieces of Sul-Ha.

Silla glared at him, suddenly stronger, a glint in her eyes as she did so. This was the woman he knew, and yet—this was something new altogether.

"What of my daughter? Is she to die like me?"

Yao's head ached. His heart itched as he longed for home, where everyone respected him, where there was no demanding. Where there was no one to question his fine judgement and snark at him.

"I will not accept both."

His voice was firm as Silla looked at him, then at her son, and finally at her daughter. She gave in a tiny breath, then spoke once more in that voice of hers, that voice that had always reminded him of all the sad songs he had heard, had sung.

"I, as the mother of these children, ask that you take both, or you take none."

China almost screamed at her as his brain digested the words one by one. He, the great Tang dynasty, for once—had nearly lost his temper at a lesser nation, a dying nation.

"Are you in a position for bargaining with me?"

The thousand year old nation shook her head.

"No, Yao-nim."

"Then don't ask things like that of me. Ridiculous, to think that I would raise that imbecile's children... Even one is too good for that hot-headed, blown up boy! Your children reek of Goguryeo and Baekjae!"

There was a long silence as tears fell from Silla's face—each plopping onto the silk like raindrops, coloring the fabric in a different shade and dimming the room with their very existence.

"Are you done?"

Her voice barely over a whisper, the kingdom spoke with all the emotions in the world in those three words.

"Are you done insulting my children and their fathers?"

"Silla, I..."

The country of Silla rose to her feet gracefully, grabbed the pillow next to her, and hurled it with all her might at her stuttering visitor—hitting him squarely on the chest. The only problem—Yao was holding the infant that the nurse had passed to him.

The child awoke, and instantly started to bawl at the impact, the noise and the stranger holding it.

"Oh, child, I... I'm so sorry... Umma is sorry..."

Silla snatched the child from him as she comforted the girl, her tears mixing with the child's—a child with a child. Soon the infant calmed, and was laid next to her brother, the two bundles side by side. China did what he could—nothing. It was better that he watch, better that he keep quiet. He was even regretting why he had come.

"They thought one of them would die."

Silla's voice was singsong while her words were terrible—it was ironic that a nation with a sweet voice like her could issue thousands of deaths, talk of treason and betrayals.

"Their fathers died. One of them had to fade."

Her voice was calm, but Yao knew the other like the back of his hand. Inside, Silla was tearing up—she just didn't want to be that weak girl who ran up to him for every little thing, asking for his help, his comfort.

"The girl—her temperature wouldn't go down. I tried everything, all of the medicines that I knew of, all of the physicians—the royal physician, he told me he was sorry."

"And yet your daughter lives on."

Yao took his chance to speak, try and tell her something. The girl would live on her own, she did not need him, and Silla could live in peace.

"Live? She barely survived. I cried, and cried and cried, and like a fool without power ought to, did the only thing I could."

"What did you do?"

The younger nation did not meet his eye.

"What did you do?"

"I wanted to make sure... that she wouldn't have to die in pain..."

Oh. Looking at Yao's face Sul-Ha only laughed. It was a bitter, brittle kind that he knew from centuries back, one he had heard often during war.

"It wasn't the first time I saw death—there is a reason, you see... why I am the Kingdom of a Thousand Years."

His Sul-Ha who could not hurt a fly had tried to kill her own child.

"And then?"

"She... she pushed my hand away, with all the strength in that tiny body could muster... and.. she stared at me."

Silla finished the sentence and buried her head in her lap, as her shoulders began to shake and muffled sobs began to echo in the room. It reminded Yao of better days—better days when Sul-Ha, the soft-hearted child had come to him with a problem she needed help with and smile brightly about older brother who had all the answers. It reminded him of hopes, wants and broken dreams.

"I'm a horrible mother."

"There, there, she's very much alive."

"It's not that! No one will care for her when I die!"

From a sheet of black hair, a curtain of it, the young, distressed mother raised her head, eyes overflowing with tears.

"Silla-"

"I tried to kill her.You don't want her. My countrymen believe women are useless. What will become of her?"

He could not give her hope. He did not want to bend to Silla. He was China—Silla had to accept his authority like Japan, like Taiwan, and be respectful, be grateful.

"Silla, I cannot take two."

"Then take none."

The girl snapped at him.

"Insolent child!"

"I have to be insolent. I am her mother. She deserves a life, just like her brother—it wasn't her fault that she was born a girl.Orabuni, what will happen to her when I die? She will be sold to some nobleman as if—as if she were livestock, or she will die!"

Yao's head was filled with thoughts.

He recalled Baekjae's horror when he saw Silla with Yao, the boy's beautiful face paling with worry and anxiety as he tried to seperate the two—even at knifepoint.

"Silla, get away from him! He will hurt you!"

Even when he knew his sister had betrayed him, the sadness and worry in his eyes as he fell, his grey eyes becoming blank—graceful, godly Baekjae.

Goguryeo's snarl still rang in his ears as the man had fallen on his knees, a gush of blood spattering the floor, his ember eyes glaring at his foster sibling.

"How could you sell us? How could you do this to me when I... I..."

And even as his eyes faded, his limp hand had reached for Silla—fierce Goguryeo, powerful Goguryeo.

And now...

"She will die! How can I close my eyes in peace? Please, please, this is the last thing I ask of you."

This nation who had feared, admired, worshipped him, and yet never loved him—the one nation that he could never sway to his will no matter what, Silla.

He felt his hand being touched and looked down, to find it was one of the children—the girl. Her tiny hand wrapped around his finger, her eyes clouded with sleep but curious.

I am a busy man. I am an important nation. I cannot afford to take two more youngsters.

"No more groveling from you, Silla. I cannot take this behavior."

I will extend my kindness and take one.

"I am your friend and closest thing you have to family."

I cannot take the girl.

And I cannot lie.

"I will not lie to you."

Silla's eyes closed, and he knew very well that she would submit—she was after all, no match for his mind once it was made up. Oh, his sweet Silla.

"My poor child."

The nation whispered, and a pearly, fresh tear fell from her face that she did not bother to wipe.

I am China. I will not be moved.

"I will take Lee Ha-Eung, your son as my ward."

"Do as you wish."

Silla's voice was brittle now, laced with bitterness and poison as she spoke.

"You are heartless, China."

I am not heartless.

"You killed her fathers. You take care of Japan and Taiwan. And yet you cannot, no, will not take care of my blood."

Japan and Taiwan... But I cannot... And yet I... I will suffer.

"FINE! DO IT YOUR WAY! I WILL TAKE BOTH!"

He had never yelled before, not to his tyrannical father nor to his Emperors nor the idiotical visiors.

"What?"

Silla's expression was that of shock—he could not understand her, he was fulfilling her wish and now she looked as if the dead had risen from the grave.

"You are China. You do as you please."

"I am doing as I please."

Yao snapped as the maids around them quaked at the noise, at the sudden change in atmosphere and the words that settled in the air.

"But...you.."

"I have a conscience!"

Yao grabbed one of the ladies-in-waiting by the arm—he no longer needed to be gentle, he had no more strength to put on a mask.

"You—you will prepare for my departure tomorrow. You will make sure that my wards have a comfortable journey. Are we clear?"

"Y...yes..."

The servant ran for it, not bothering to look back at all out of fear.

"I... Yao-nim..."

"Silla, I am taking both of your children as you wished. And this is my final stand."

Leaving the flustered nation behind, he walked into the guest room that was prepared for him, and threw himself on the bed.Unchinalike behavior. Something more like that scoundrel Goguryeo would have done.

He wasn't doing this because he was generous. He wasn't taking Silla's children in because he cared for Silla. He wouldn't have minded caring for Silla, but the spawn of the two biggest fools in the world? No. Even if he cared for her. The real reason he was doing this-why he had changed his mind-it was so obvious.

These children would care more about him than Silla would have ever done. They would worship him, admire him, quake before him, andlovehim. It would be safer to have both children. What if one of the other countries took the girl? He didn't want competition for the Korean peninsula. Yes, they could say he was selfish. But he was the great China. He needed the Korean support, and that was how China returned with two children instead of coming alone.

I know China's supposed to be the warm big brother character. But I wanted to make him into a calculating character in here based on actual history where he successfully destroys other lands, enlarges his territory and lives on—successfully. No, I do not dislike China! It's so that I can show you how he warms, and gradually changes.

REVISED: Yes, I have revised and rewrote this chapter—each of the chapters will be revised and rewritten, and this will be the first part of the four parts, Slumber—the second being Dreams and the third being Awakening. The fourth is a secret! CS is a very special story to me; I hope you will enjoy my revised work.