#anylw

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“No!”

“Yona, please consider—”

“No!” The princess whirled around, purple eyes blazing. “Father, I have told you. I want to marry Soo-won!”

“And I have told you! A marriage with Soo-won is not possible. I have acknowledged you wouldn’t enjoy a marriage with Hak, and another possibility has been offered. I have accepted. An Joon-gi is a kind man, and I imagine his daughter is much the same.”

Yona scoffed and muttered something under her breath, twisting her hair savagely around one finger. Il fought to keep his face calm and composed.

“Did you have something to share?”

“No, Father,” Yona said. She stared him in the eyes and released her hair. “I will marry An Lili as you command, though I fail to see how that would further our kingdom’s interests—I sincerely doubt she has been raised to be King any more than I have.”

His daughter gave a bow, the perfect depth from a princess to her father, and walked away, back held ruler straight.

Il resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. When Yona decided to use her lessons in womanhood, it sometimes seemed she grew two feet taller. Though… in this case, she was right as well. Joon-gi was just as protective over his daughter as Il was over his, so the idea that Lili could simply step into the role of king was a foolish one.

That would be rectified, Il decided, as soon as he could communicate as such to his general.

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“Absolutely not,” Joon-gi declared. His robes swirled around him when he turned away, but not before Il saw his nose wrinkle as though tasting something bitter. “We will have to find some other solution—my daughter will not be burdened in such a way.”

Il sincerely wanted to do… something. Banging his head against a wall, as Geun-tae so frequently suggested, was much too violent. Perhaps scream into a pillow. Yes, that sounded nice.

“But,” Joon-gi continued, turning back around. “Maybe they can share the burden. They will be two queens, after all, not a king and a queen.”

An excellent plan coming together, on the other hand, sounded even nicer. “I believe we are ready to continue with negotiations,” Il beamed his widest smile. Taking on half of the king’s crown was Yona’s best option at the moment, with the threat of a marriage to Soo-won still lingering.

Sacrifices must be made, even when they are one’s own beliefs, for the sake of one’s daughter.

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The next day, Il and Joon-gi set things in motion. The other generals and Soo-won all received personalized invitations to the wedding of Yona and Lili, and flyers were sent out all over Kouka announcing the soon-to-be new princess.

Meanwhile, in each of their castles, the two girls started new lessons in things such as politics and battle tactics. The generals would certainly be a large help once it was necessary for them to ascend the throne, but they would also need to be able to fend for themselves in court.

In that, Yona was more helpful than Il had hoped she would be. Offered lessons in the things her two closest friends considered interesting for the first time, she waded into the ocean of information, regardless of her lack of interest in the actual marriage.

The princess whirled from one side of the castle to another, from the library to a study and back again. Not even Soo-won could tear her away from her new responsibilities—but when it came to the actual wedding arrangements, Yona steered well clear. And when the day finally arrived, it was both the first time she saw the decorations, and the first time she met her betrothed.

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Crown Princess Yona and Lady Lili married at the end of summer, with the leaves changing color and a chilly breeze rifling through clothes.

The wedding ceremony was complete and the celebrations begun, both royalty and generals seated at the head table when Yona shivered, and Lili risked a glance her way. Her eyes met purple and she flushed. Turning away swiftly, she pretended to examine the food on her plate. Most of it was already gone, eaten in an attempt to avoid talking to her new wife, but there was a tiny piece of meat left in one corner. Lili speared it with her fork and swallowed it in one bite.

“Hungry?” A soft voice asked.

Lili grabbed an apple from a nearby bowl, took a bite and, just to spite her father, spoke around it. “Starving,” she lied. A bit of apple peel stuck between her teeth, and she wiggled it with her tongue. It didn’t move.

“Would you like more?”

Lili took another bite and shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

“Pos—” Lili finally turned to see her new companion and froze. The new apple bite, which she had again spoken around, slid halfway down her throat and stayed there. Lili coughed, swallowed, and coughed again when the piece slid the rest of the way down. “Princess Yona,” she said roughly.

The princess beamed, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Princess Lili.”

Lili almost choked again, though there was nothing to choke on.

“I thought we could get to know one another,” she said, her smile somehow becoming even more fake, though the blush that painted her cheeks was certainly real.

Lili opened her mouth, but no words fell out. She closed it and huffed. She hated falling back on the expected. “Get to know what?” she asked.

Yona hummed, the sound rough but sweet, like water over rocks in a stream. “I don’t know. What do suitors usually talk about?”

“We’re married,” Lili laughed.

“Well, yes, but—and I hope you don’t mind—it doesn’t quite feel like that yet. Not what I imagined. And we won’t have to rule for years yet, if all goes well..."

“What did you imagine?” Lili murmured. She set the apple down, and her hands twisted together.

“Sweet comfort?” Yona said. “Familiarity, but heart racing. Trust. I—I would like to get there with you someday, Princess Lili.”

Turning in her seat, Lili folded one leg over the over and gave Yona her full attention. A blush bloomed hot across her own cheeks, and she just prayed it wasn’t as deep as the one Yona wore. “I would like to be there with you someday, Princess Yona.”

She offered the other princess a smile, then cursed herself when her blush deepened further as Yona’s smile softened. She didn’t look so strict and princess like like that. She looked—well, she looked like any other girl their age. Albeit a cold one, Lili amended silently when shivers racked her suitor’s body again.

“Cold?” she asked.

“Mm, freezing,” Yona muttered. Her hands messed with her clothes, trying to tighten them around her.

“Would you like a scarf?” Lili blurted. Turning, she waved as calmly as she could at where Ayura and Tetora stood guard. It still felt like she was making a fool of herself, flapping her hand all over the place, but oh well. Needs must. It got their attention—and when Tetora hurried back a few minutes later with her request, and she stood to drape it over Yona’s shoulders and got another smile back in return, she thought she might know what her suitor liked so much about heart racing.

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Hey, I hope you all enjoyed!

Iguni normally didn’t attend these tournaments. A flash show put on by King Il to let warriors both seasoned and fresh show off and use their skills in an era that otherwise did not let them. It was curiosity that made her decide to come with her husband and two sons this time, and what she heard about she had to see with her own eyes. 

The heads of the tribes were very often part of nobility. If sons weren’t succeeding their fathers as generals, the generals were passing their positions on to the strongest nobleman they had ties to. They married equally esteemed women and continued an esteemed bloodline. It was how she married into the Fire Tribe’s Kan family and simply continued with life and tradition. 

However, every once in a while a general shook things up, but only once in a while. Iguni had certainly never heard of it happening in recent years. The Earth Tribe general had taken a commoner as a wife. A women who came to his castle as a mere gardener. 

She was curious. 

“Excuse me, may I offer you a cup of tea?” a soft, cheerful young woman asked from the side. She wore an equally radiating yellow and pink silk robe with a white tunic bordered in gold. Her hair was pulled back in a simple hairpin adorned with painted flowers. She appeared to be one of Hiryuu Castle’s court ladies dressed up for the festivities. She accepted the offer and watched as she walked away, gasping as the young one nearly tripped with the tea tray in her hands. 

As the young woman left her mind, Iguni focused on spotting the families of the other generals. Ahn Jun-gi was present by himself, though that was par the course. He never brought his daughter, and his wife never seemed to want anything to do with him. General Mundok’s party was just getting seated. His adopted grandson was expected to put on an impressive show, or so she had heard from the grapevine. 

When she spotted General Geun-tae, the same young woman who had served her was pouring him a cup. To her surprise, she then proceeded to sit next to him. Briefly, before he stood up and headed towards the preparation era for participants. The young woman laughed and smiled, happily interacting with the folk in the Earth Tribe stands. An even younger woman who appeared to be an actual waiting lady sat next to her. 

Throughout the tournament, she could see the mistakes she made. Shooting up from the seat to cheer her husband and Earth warriors on. Attempting to get out of her seat, only to be coaxed by her lady-in-waiting to sit as she left to get whatever it was she needed. Having a sense of grace that came more with being soft-spoken than being forcibly dignified. Slumping over and appearing outwardly bored. This young woman oozed an air of freedom that was being caged. 

“Have you seen Geun-tae’s wife?” 

Iguni turned to see her husband standing next to her. When he arrived she didn’t know. Between the matches and observing the Earth Tribe stands she hadn’t heard him slip through. 

“Yes. She appears rather young,” Iguni trailed off. 

“Indeed. And far too filthy. A gardener!” he said mockingly. “Geun-tae was always an obnoxious brat, but even I expected more of him.” 

“Her upbringing is apparent,” Iguni spoke up, “but she appears to be adapting very well. She’ll be indistinguishable from any other noble woman in no time.” She said nothing more and fanned herself. 

He snorted a laugh before walking away, allowing Iguni to exhale an aggravated sigh and snap her fan shut. She called her own ladies-in-waiting forth, giving them instructions to gift the Lady of the Earth Tribe with flowers and a silk red robe as soon as the tournament was done. 

The young woman who had it easy comparative to her, being part of the more relaxed Earth Tribe, was still part of Kouka’s sometimes tumultuous nobility. She would face the negatively judgmental stares, scrutiny far taxing than if she was already a woman in the noble class, and she only wished the best for her in her journey. 

“Oh,” she paused as she prepared to leave for intermission, “I never caught her name.”

“Yuno of the Earth Tribe,” a lady-in-waiting answered. 

Eventually they close. The midwife swaddles the monster, sets him sleeping in the cradle they had prepared for their child.

“Ah!” That sight, that violation, starts Euna from her stillness.

“Would you rather hold him?” the midwife asks pointedly, and Euna sinks back into her bed, defeated. “Rest,” the midwife commands. “I must inform the elder that a new Seiryuu has been born, but I’ll come back.”

Su-ran rests a hand on her shoulder. “We can have other children,” he says. “Real children.”

What can Euna say to that? To go through all of this a second time? Su-ran doesn’t understand, can’t understand—but his face says he understands, at least, that it was the wrong thing to say. He holds her tighter, his embrace reaching where his words cannot.

Euna wakes to the sound of the monster crying, and tries to ignore it. The sound of a crying child—it’s supposed to make her feel something, isn’t it? But all she feels is resignation. She knows the nightmare is real, knows that if she gets up, golden eyes will await her. Knows that what should be a helpless child crying out for warmth is a monster, taunting her.

“Euna.” The midwife must have returned while she was asleep. “You have to feed him. If he dies, you’ve cursed some other family to suffer the same fate. Do you want to do that?”

She can’t answer. Eventually, Su-ran goes to the cradle, brings the baby to her. “This won’t be forever,” he says. “The previous Seiryuu will take him, soon enough.”

One hundred days. That’s how long the monster is to stay with its birth-mother, to ensure it will survive, to keep the gods from playing even crueler tricks. One hundred days, and it hasn’t even been one.

Each day may seem to last forever, but still Euna loses count. Her friends, her sister, even her mother—they all promised to help her care for her child, and they all abandoned her when they learned she had birthed the next Seiryuu. Su-ran does everything for the child but feed him, and Euna barely leaves her bed.

“When did you last eat?” Su-ran asks, pressing a bowl of broth into her hands. She stares at him blankly. Does it matter?

They say that Seiryuu’s eyes can turn you stone. Euna thinks it’s working.

“It’s strange,” Su-ran comments one day. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that he’s not—you know—our son.” That night, Euna hears the faint echoes of a lullaby. She climbs out of bed. Follows the sound of her husband’s voice, rips the child from his arms. Seiryuu took her son from her—she won’t let him take Su-ran, too.

“Euna,” Su-ran is saying. “Euna, give the baby to me.”

You don’t want to curse some other family to suffer the same fate.

Then Euna looks down at the child in her hands and gasps. His eyes are shut, the red daggers on his cheeks almost invisible in the dim light. He’s not a monster, he’s just a baby. He’s her son, and he has been all along. She pulls him close to her chest. Shakily, she picks up the notes of the lullaby Su-ran was singing. He joins back in again and it’s then, when she hears their voices singing together, that Euna’s tears finally, finally come.

Then Seiryuu opens his eyes, looks up at her with that cursed gaze, and the spell is broken. Only Su-ran keeps her from dropping the child in revulsion.

The monster almost had her.

Su-ran brings the village elder to their house. “I know it’s too soon,” he says. “But you have to take him to the previous Lord Seiryuu now. Can’t you see he’s killing her?”

“Nonsense,” the elder retorts. “His powers have not yet fully appeared.” That won’t happen until the hundredth day, tradition says, the day when he is given his mask.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” But the elder doesn’t listen to Su-ran’s request.

When he leaves, Euna looks to Su-ran, confused. “I’m not dying,” she says. It might be easier if she were. Her life isn’t her own—Seiryuu has taken everything from her, violated her, and when these hundred days are over, what will Euna have left? Maybe it really would be better to end it.

“Euna,” says Su-ran. “Euna, if you could only see yourself—”

The next night—or maybe one night after, Euna has already lost track—Su-ran takes her by the hand as soon as Seiryuu falls asleep. “Euna, it’s time to go,” he says. She looks at him blankly. “This whole village is cursed. I have to get you out of here. I won’t let you fade away, Euna, not like this.”

“Go…where?” she asks.

“Anywhere.”

They could be killed for trying to leave the village. But when Euna thinks about that, it doesn’t feel like an argument for staying.

“I’ve packed already,” says Su-ran. “Let’s go.”

As they step out the door, Seiryuu begins to cry, and Su-ran stops in his tracks. “Lord Seiryuu will take him in,” he says. “That was always going to happen. It’s just—a little sooner—” He chokes back a sob, takes a deep breath, and grips Euna’s hand tight. “Let’s go,” he repeats.

The moon is high in the sky when they hear shouts behind them. “Euna. Hide.” But there are barely any trees for shelter, none they can make it to unseen.

“Come back now and you won’t be harmed,” a voice calls out. The village elder.

“Won’t be harmed? Like Euna hasn’t been harmed?”

“All we asked was that she do her duty.”

“Let’s go back, Euna whispers, tugging at Su-ran’s hand. “I’ll be alright. I can be stronger.”

Su-ran shakes his head. “If we go back, I’m afraid you’ll die, Euna, I’m afraid you’ll—” He drops their pack. “Run,” he says. “We’re near an Earth Tribe outpost. We’ll be safe if we make it there.”

“Well?” the elder demands from across the distance.

They run.

But Euna is weak from weeks in bed, and she knows she won’t be able to run for long. Su-ran pulls her along, like he always has, and she can see the lights of the outpost ahead. They’re going to make it. Then—Su-ran falls forward. Euna falls too, still holding tight to his hand, and it’s a moment before she can right herself, before she can see—

There’s an arrow sticking out of Su-ran’s back.

“Su-ran!” She rolls him too his side. Stares into the fading light in his eyes, uncomprehending. “Su-ran!” She looks back in the direction of the approaching villagers, their torches casting a glow more cruel than Seiryuu’s eyes ever were. “You didn’t have to—” But they did. They’d have reached the outpost, she and Su-ran, and outsiders cannot know of Seiryuu’s power. “Su-ran,” she repeats, still hoping.

His hand brushes against her cheek. Does his touch feel cold already, or is that just her imagination? “Euna,” he chokes out. “Live. Live for me and—and for—our son.” His hand falls away. Again, the tears that should come aren’t there. She just feels empty.

More arrows don’t come, either. They want her alive, she realizes. They still want her milk. And they know she can’t go any further on her own.

Live, Su-ran said. If they take her back…she’ll be alive, but will she ever really live again? I’m sorry, Su-ran. She stares at the ground and waits for the villagers to reach her.

Footsteps. Just one set. A boot nudges Su-ran—Su-ran’s body—testing for life. A frustrated growl. “Go home,” says a gruff, unfamiliar voice. “I’ll handle this.”

“Y-yes, Lord Seiryuu.”

Hesitantly, Euna looks up. In all the time since Seiryuu was born, she hasn’t seen the previous dragon, but she’d caught glimpses of him before. Those times, she recoiled in fear at the sight of him. Now, there’s nothing left to be afraid of.

“You’re the mother,” he sais. She answers with a shaky nod. “I watched you,” he says. “You have nothing to give him, do you?”

“Are you going to kill me?” Su-ran will be disappointed to see her in the afterlife so soon—but how can she do what he asked of her? How can she live? “He’s always been your child,” she says, when Seiryuu doesn’t answer. “Not mine.”

“You think I know the first thing about raising a kid?” His hand is on his sword. Euna hopes it will be quick.

“He—he likes the song about the fish in the sky!” she blurts out, a memory of Su-ran’s voice springing to her mind.

Seiryuu relaxes his grip. “Don’t know that one,” he says. She keeps watching him. It’s impossible to tell what’s happening beneath that mask. Finally, he speaks again. “You should go.”

“Go…?” Euna repeats. She’s confused. Seiryuu is…letting her go?

“They think he needs you,” says Seiryuu. “They’re wrong.” Maybe he speaks from experience. “Go,” he repeats, but Euna doesn’t move. Seiryuu sighs and turns away, but after taking a step, turns back. “Does he have a name?”

“…no.”

“So be it.”

Euna doesn’t remember stumbling into the Earth Tribe outpost, or the faces of the soldiers who helped her there. She remembers they don’t ask questions.

They take her to a village, a warm bright village with no secrets, and they take her to the healing-woman there. She does ask questions, many of them, and when she’s finished, she tells Euna to stay with her.

It’s a long time before Euna feels like she’s living again.

Over the years, she learns from the healing-woman. She sees women who fall apart after giving birth, whose children are healthy, are human, and the healing-woman calls it no one’s fault, but simply a sickness. And she hears stories, too, stories that were never told in Seiryuu Village, of the founding of their country and the four dragon warriors.

Euna wonders…

Seiryuu would be a boy now. The previous Seiryuu said he didn’t need her, but is that really true? It can’t be. Because—because—

He’s her son. He’s her son, and she left him behind.

If Euna returns to Seiryuu Village, she knows she won’t be able to leave again. So she says goodbye to her new home and sets out alone. Near the Earth Tribe outpost, she pauses. Can she really do it? Go back to live with the people who killed Su-ran? Yes, she decides. Euna will never forgive them, but for her son, she can live with them.

The outpost is strangely deserted. Euna wonders if some war has called the soldiers away. Remembering how they helped her that night, she offers a short prayer for their safety, and continues on.

The sun is setting as she reaches the village. No guards meet her. Strange, she thinks. And strange, how no lights shine in any windows.

The fields outside the village were untended and overgrown, too.