#lweb!au

He openly gets undressed from his royal robes, which are made of the finest silks, down to his undergarments. Underneath the bright pastels is nothing but pure white. His skin shines against the sunlight that pours in from the balcony and it highlights his facial features. 

A woman gushes from the sidelines. “Oh, gosh. I’ve only heard of how pretty he is, but now that I’ve seen him in person…” She covers the bottom half of her face with her fan in shyness as her words trail off. “I don’t think I could ever recover.” 

“His fingers are so delicate,” another whispers, almost fearful of the Prince overhearing her. 

“Forget his hands!” A woman nudges her, shaking her fan towards his figure. “Just look at those lips. They’re absolutely perfect.” 

Another sighs in content of the view. “His jawline was sculpted by a greater divinity. That divinity wanted us to worship that jawline.” 

“That jawline is meant to cut diamonds, not just worshipping.” 

At a separate table, a few feet away from the balcony and the crowd of women, there sits three men—friends of the Prince. Upon hearing these comments makes Seokmin gag from his seated position, so much that he leans over and pretends to retch under the table. Soonyoung’s face wrinkles in disgust at the sounds and Seungkwan simply looks away, fanning himself. 

“My Prince,” Seungkwan calls out. “To what is the aim of all this?” 

Prince Jeonghan smirks to himself as he pulls on the shabby, bright red robes. He has been adorned in much more expensive fabrics—with much better quality, bound to last for centuries—and yet, every once in a while, he lowers himself down (as his mother likes to put it) to connect with the common folks. It might be demeaning for others, but, for him, it’s a chance to express himself, his talents, and his abilities to show his connections with the citizens. 

But of course, he is deemed as nothing more than a shallow prince. 

The Prince swallows, almost as if to push down the brief moment of sadness, before he turns to the trio. He raises his smirk higher, much more smug than before. “Attention, I suppose.” 

Seungkwan’s jaw drops slightly from the audacity of the Prince. However, while disappointed, the man cannot say he is surprised. 

Seokmin simply rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond—knowing it’s smarter not to bite at the hands of the Prince. Considering how long they’ve all known one another, Prince Jeonghan’s words are the ones that bite the hardest. 

However, Soonyoung never learns his lesson. He shakes his head at the Prince’s words, before pouring another drink for himself. “My Prince, I must say that the cheap fabrics oddly suit you.” 

Seungkwan nearly chokes on his spit at the words, holding his fan between him and Soonyoung. “You shouldn’t say that,” he says, without bothering to be quiet. “You’re only going to feed his ego more.” 

The Prince raises his hand, as if to playfully hit him with his own decorated fan—a similar shade of red that matches his robe. “You’re one to say, considering how often you provide more compliments for yourself rather than receiving them from others.” 

Before the latter can respond, Prince Jeonghan makes his way through the tables and towards the front, where there is an open stage awaiting for him. He makes his place in the center, in the middle of a rose pile that is swept across the floor, where he sits elegantly. 

The wind begins to blow softly, enough to swirl the petals around him—with the additional cherry blossoms flowing from the open balcony and into the room. The band immediately begins, playing a soft melody to calm the hearts of all within close proximity. 

His body begins to move with the music, as if he were part of the winds that drift in the air. The balance and poise his body demonstrates would leave the female dancers envious had it not been the fact that they were too busy admiring his beauty. He is more than calm and collected—but still manages to display elegance and sentiment. 

There’s a collection of satisfied sighs that can be heard from the ladies as he loses himself to the music. With moments like this, he forgets it all: the royal status, the scrutiny—he just becomes another mere dancer with talents of his own. 

As the last note is held, he bends down and folds himself towards the ground as if to thank his audience. Applause fills the air and the ladies begin to throw their handkerchiefs to the stage. 

“Absolutely beautiful!” 

“Spectacular, my Prince!” 

“A man of many talents, Prince Jeonghan!” 

Their praises continue to fill his ears as he steps down, making his way back towards his table—where the trio greets him with a standing ovation and slow claps to applaud the Prince and his talents. 

“But, of course,” Soonyoung says. “What else did we expect from our Prince himself?” 

“What he means to say,” Seokmin intervenes. “Was that it was a wonderful dance, as per usual, my Prince.” 

They take their seats again, making more toasts and snacking on the plates presented on their table. Their conversation is interrupted by the brothel’s owner, who comes with more women and numerous plates full of food and drinks that only one can imagine. 

“Prince Jeonghan,” she says with a bow. “Thank you for visiting our humble brothel. I can only gift you with my ladies and food to fill your stomach.” 

“That is more than enough,” Prince Jeonghan says. “Thank you for allowing me to dance.” 

“It’s our honor, my Prince.” She gives another bow of her head, giving time for the women to set up the additional food and drinks, before making herself scarce. 

Prince Jeonghan turns his attention back to the table, making more toasts with the trio and engaging with the conversation once more—allowing the rowdy setting to activate again. 

However, a snicker from a few tables away catches the ears of the Prince. A few men, clearly in a more drunken state that is less than appropriate given the time of day, entertain themselves with rather reckless comments in front of royalty. 

“Can you believe,” one begins to speak, “that he is a prince of our country? My chickens set a better example of leadership than that frilly pansy.” 

The other man hums, only to let out a small burp as he opens his mouth. “If he were to run the country, we would be in ruins.” 

“That’s why he’s only a mere prince,” another responds. “Prince Jonghyun is the only one who will successfully obtain the kingdom and there shall be no worries.” 

“Well,” the second man replies. “Prince Seungcheol is another option. Either one is a good choice. I wouldn’t mind being under Prince Minhyun’s rule either.” 

“Prince Jeonghan is more of collateral damage,” the first man hiccups. “A worse case scenario, if you will.” 

The Prince frowns underneath his cup as he takes another sip of his alcohol, but doesn’t say anything. While knowing some part of it is true, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. His train of thought is interrupted as a familiar face noisily enters the room. 

He stands. “Chan!” 

The young boy looks a bit startled, but relieved to see the Prince. “My Prince!” He quickly makes his way over to the table of recognizable faces. “My Lords,” he says, bowing his head to greet the others. He turns back to the main man. “Prince Jeonghan, I have urgent news from the palace.” 

“Chan,” Soonyoung says. “Would you like some water first?” 

“Yes, have some first,” Seokmin adds. “You look like you ran from the palace itself.” 

There’s a moment of silence as Chan catches his breath, silently accepting the glass Seungkwan presents to him. After swallowing large gulps from the glass, he wipes his mouth and practically slams the glass back on the table. 

Seungkwan clears his throat. “Chan, you may now proceed with the news.” 

Chan gives him a look, almost amused as to how Seungkwan presents himself as above him—even in the presence of royalty. With a shake of his head, he chooses to ignore him. “Prince Jeonghan, your mother has requested your presence.” 

The Prince frowns. “Why is that?” 

“Because you’re to be wed in a week.” 

All chatter dies—from the ladies in the arms of others to the actual guests themselves. The trio has frozen, unsure as to what it was exactly that they had heard. A pin has been dropped. 

“Come again?” The Prince asks. “I am to be what in when?” 

Meanwhile, the trio seems to have come to their senses, as they all stand in unison. 

“To who?” 

Chan seems more nervous at the question, now that he has the full attention of everyone in the room. “I know it is out of my place, my Prince, but I believe you should discuss this with your mother. I’m unsure as to whether I am authorized to disclose this information, considering the conditions we are currently in.” 

There’s another moment of silence with the eyes of many silently pushing the young boy to release the new gossip of the week. If he’s already stirred the pot, what’s wrong with letting it boil over a little? 

“I’ll pardon you if my family threatens to behead you,” Prince Jeonghan offers. At the sight of Chan’s pale face at the mention of capital punishment, he immediately rushes to fix his own words. “Although, I highly doubt it would extend that far.” 

Glancing around, Chan hesitantly steps closer, only to be pulled into the small circle. Their heads join together—however, all of their eyes are locked on him, along with the ears of those still within the brothel. 

“According to my sources,” he whispers. “I hear Prince Jeonghan is to be wed to…” 

“Oh, to who?!” Seungkwan bursts. 

Soonyoung pulls him back in. 

Chan’s voice gets smaller. “To General (Y/L/N).” 

“THE GENERAL?!” Seokmin shrieks. 

With that, the guests partake in their chitchat once more. The second prince is to be wed to the General? There were some rumors of the General being female, but were they true? What is to be of the military, nevertheless of the royal family? Will Prince Jeonghan end up destroying his family line? There were also rumors from the palace maids themselves who said he often had trouble… performing—despite his many whores who are now palace concubines. 

The trio seems to have already processed this information—moving on to try and find some rationale as to why or what it was that led to this. Meanwhile, Prince Jeonghan has personally felt as if his soul has been sold to the literal devil. He has officially become a shell of a man. 

Should he feel betrayed by his family? Or angry at the thought of being wed to someone he doesn’t know? 

“Isn’t the General a man?” Soonyoung asks. He turns to Chan. “How could they let the second prince marry a man?!” 

Chan can only open his mouth, attempting to provide some response to the lord. 

“I think the bigger question is whether or not the General is even part of the human species,” Seungkwan slyly comments. “Do you know how many people he’s killed? He’s literally called the Devil from all the bodies he’s collected on the battlefield.” 

“Not just the battlefield,” Seokmin adds. “My father told me that they executed one of their own soldiers with a whip, which had been personalized with blades.” He shudders at the thought. “I’m glad he’s our general rather than another’s. Can you imagine the horror?” 

With his words, the trio slowly turn their attention back to Prince Jeonghan, who looks as white as a ghost—sheer horror apparent on his face as the news officially sunk in. 

Chan takes a step forward, lightly tugging on the Prince’s robes. “Prince Jeonghan?” 

There’s no response. 

“I’ve been ordered by your mother to bring you back to the palace. There’s a carriage outside waiting for you.” He turns to the trio. “I shall head back downstairs to wait for him as he changes.” 

He bows in respect to the trio and the Prince before making his exit—not before taking another glance at the Prince, gauging in the royal’s response once more. 

It’s not until after the young messenger boy has left that Prince Jeonghan eventually comes back to his senses. Although, it did take a good few minutes for the information to be fully processed. 

The guests are still chatting away at the news and he can feel their eyes on him more than ever. He preferred their scrutiny rather than their overcurious eyes that want nothing more than to pry him in his most vulnerable state. 

He’s starting to feel sick. His legs can no longer support him and he can feel himself collapsing onto the table. He turns back to the trio with eyes filled with fear and apprehension. Surely, his mother can do something, right?

“Your highness,” Eunuch Gok calls from outside the doors. “Prince Yoon has arrived.” 

The words hit the ears of all those within the room, with the maids and other servants sharing knowing glances towards one another—but none of them dare to stop themselves from completing their tasks. 

In the center of it all, the Princess Dowager sighs, feeling the exhaustion hit once more at the mention of her son. With a wave of her hand, she dismisses the maid by her side. “Bring him in.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

The maids scurry, almost scrambling to move out of the way for the storm that’s about to hit—positioning themselves to form a line behind her highness. 

It’s not even a second after that the Prince bursts through the doors. 

“Mother!” 

She doesn’t flinch, feeling rather familiar with her son’s dramatics. “Greetings first, Jeonghan. Manners make a man.” 

He makes a face, but still bows to her with his head lowered. “Greetings, mother.” He stands up straight, immediately dropping the polite act. “What is this I hear about marriage?” 

The Princess Dowager slowly picks up her teacup, taking a slow sip from it. The Prince, however, is still feeling antsy at the news. 

With each second passing, the dread of this ill-fated marriage is getting more and more realistic. His foot taps impatiently on the expensive rug that decorates the room. 

“Mother?” he calls. “Please say something.” 

She places the cup back on the plate and signals the dismissal of her maids. They quietly make their exit, shutting the doors tightly behind them as they all leave the royals to their personal business. 

“Mother!” 

She immediately shushes him with a finger to his lips, pulling him closer to her. He’s practically on his knees, knees knocking against the brightly painted chair—only to kneel at her feet as if she has the answers to his prayers. 

“Keep your voice down!” she whispers. “You know how much the servants like to gossip and, if they are to see your panic, they will not hesitate to share this information with the others!” 

“I thought you had good relations with Dowager Choi and Dowager Hong.” 

“I do, but it would make for awkward talks if they were to find out through the servants’ gossip.” 

The Prince doesn’t understand the point of it all, but, when does he ever understand royal relations? 

He shakes his head, almost as if to physically clear his head of his lingering questions. “Mother, we’re getting off topic.” 

“Right,” she says. She grabs her son’s hands tightly, afraid to know what would happen if she were to let go. “Jeonghan, the Empress is the one who decided to wed you to the General.” 

“The Empress?” 

“Yes, the Empress.” 

This implies she has no power—no say—in what is to happen afterwards. His shoulders slump from the little faith that he had of being saved: all hope has been lost. 

Prince Jeonghan tries to think. Why would the Empress do this? What’s the grand scheme of things? How is this supposed to benefit the royals? Is this for military security? But, with that, comes the risk of further damage to the reputation of the royals—were they really going to risk that? 

“Jeonghan—” 

He snaps out of his thoughts. 

“You must listen very carefully and you may not disclose this information to anyone.” She paused. “At least, not yet.” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“It seems that the General is a woman.” 

He couldn’t stop himself from the question that slips. “Are you sure?” 

His mother’s hesitancy doesn’t help the building nerves. 

“Mother?” 

“Well,” she says. “That’s what the General has disclosed.” 

“Huh?” 

“The details don’t matter,” she says. “I have limited information based on what the Empress’ servants know and what my servants have heard.” She tries to think. “Just know you are to be wed in a week once the General arrives. There will be a parade in his—her? Their?” She shakes her head. “There will be a parade in the honor of the General, followed by a celebration amongst the surviving soldiers, and the wedding will commence after.” 

The Prince’s head is running with a million questions, yet his mother hasn’t answered any of them. 

He sighs—the grip tightening on his mother’s hand. “Is there anything you can do?” 

“My son, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” She lifts her hand, softly caressing his face. “Had your father been alive, I would have more power.” 

Prince Jeonghan fully sinks onto the floor—hands fallen down onto the rug and he ends up running his fingers on it, to distract himself of the current situation. 

“Well, what happens now then, mother?” 

The Princess Dowager sighs once more, softly petting her son’s head to comfort him. “Now, we wait.” 

The dreaded week passes and Prince Jeonghan finds himself at the brothel once again—but this time, he’s alone. Well, alone as royalty can be. With a few guards outside the door, he sits in an isolated room with a sole glass in hand. The third floor’s open balcony provides fresh air, which is much needed regarding the stuffiness he feels from within. 

The Prince lets out a heavy sigh, pouring another glass for himself and instantly drowning it down. Too much has happened throughout the week that it all felt like a blur. He’d felt as if he were a cow who knew when he would be shipped off to the slaughterhouse. Considering his current condition, he’d prefer to be an actual cow. 

This so-called useless groom leans closer to the window, feeling the warm summer breeze shine on his skin. This is the closest to freedom he has been throughout the past week. And probably the last time he’ll feel this way. 

As the matriarchs from his side of the family prioritized the wedding details, he’s been used and tossed aside as if he was some type of doll—due to his “uselessness as the groom” (as one of the officials had commented). The palace servants have been bombarding him with this-and-that—from fabrics for the royal attendees to menus as for what shall be served and down to the details of the cloth napkins. If the Prince is presented with another royal blue shade, he’s going to flip a table. 

With the Prince’s internal struggle three flights above ground, below is where the peasants are rushing to prepare for the General’s return—flags are waved and flowers are prepped. The children are excited, playing amongst themselves, while the adults gather together to catch up and converse with one another. 

“Have you heard the news?” 

The Prince’s ears pick up on the conversation. Picking up a fan, he covers the lower half of his face as he leans out the window, despite how little it actually does to disguise his face. 

“The General completely obliterated the Chinese army—killed their general and their second-in-command barely managed to escape.” 

“Didn’t he meet his end as well?” 

There’s a staggered huff before the person responds. 

“Considering how the General is practically inhumane with his killings, I wouldn’t be surprised if the body count was higher.” 

“I would fear for my life had I faced the General on the battlefield.” 

“Or in person.” 

There’s a snicker. 

“Well, you do have to acknowledge his skills.” 

“The General is titled as a general for a reason.” 

“Yes, this is a joyous occasion. We must celebrate Korea’s success!” 

They skip off into oblivion that the Prince can only imagine. It’s in this case that the peasants are living in the luxury that the royal yearns for once more. To the commoners, their hero was to return home—whereas Prince Jeonghan’s hell begins with the General’s arrival. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The beat of the drums is faint and distant, but still present. Everyone scrambles as the sound of galloping horses by the hundreds approaches closer and closer towards the gates. Even the Prince is flustered, the sudden arrival of his fiancee prompting him to scatter and flee out of his private room. 

“My Prince!” A guard calls, chasing after him. 

“My Prince,” another yells. “Why are you running?!” 

“To escape my problems!” 

“At least use the carriage, my Prince!” 

“No!” 

The Prince runs, passing by various groups of guests and their companions—practically jumping down the numerous flights of stairs and nearly diving into groups of strangers as he makes his way out of the brothel. 

Meanwhile, the street has been cleared to create a path for the most distinguished general of Korea. Rose petals have been prepared and spread throughout, creating colorful layers to welcome the heroes back home. The flags are up, flapping against the wind and shining its beautiful colors in the bright, warm sunshine. The horses are approaching much closer—leading to much excitement with the townspeople. 

At the main gates, you rest on your horse, pulling its reins to stop its tracks. Your army follows afterwards—Dongho, Jisoo, and Namjoo behind you. For a moment, everything is still. The blue fabric blows lightly against the wind, in contrast to the shiny black armor that remains tightly wound on your body. 

With your approach (and a glimpse of the signature colors of the flag and your armor), the head guards open the main gates to allow your entry. You and your army make its way through the gates, eventually moving past the countryside and closer to the capital. 

A shower of petals greets you and you have to hold back a smile at the sight. The townspeople are greeting you with shouts of greetings and praises, tossing grains as you and your army pass as a congratulations and welcome back home. With your head held high, you lead your way through the flowery path laid out for your army and head towards the palace, where you know your punishment awaits. 

As you move throughout the town, your men quickly navigate their ways back to their respective homes—their families, wives, children, and whatnot. Even Dongho makes his way back home (saying something about setting back into his hut for tranquility and peace). 

You know you should pop in to check with your grandfather, but you have more pressing matters on your hands. It is the King after all. 

The nerves start to get to you as you approach the palace gates, leaving you with Namjoo and Jisoo at your side once more. Your jaw clenches: the threats of a beheading are becoming more and more realistic as you make your way past the palace guards. The anxiety must have been obvious to have the paternal twins notice. 

“General,” Namjoo softly calls from her horse. “After what you have contributed, you have nothing to fear.” 

You nod, trying to convince yourself that it will not be as bad as it can be. She’s right: you have many accomplishments and the aftermath of a war can easily lead to another. They need you. The worst case scenario is the death penalty… 

… And the dread has returned. 

“I know it’s a lot to process,” Jisoo says. “But, we’re right here besides you.” She holds out her hand, which you take and hold onto. “Through thick and thin.” 

“Through thick and thin,” you repeat. 

The hand isn’t dropped until you can make out the stairs of the main court, where the King is seated outside—awaiting for your return. 

You pull on the reins; your horse whining a bit, eventually calming down as you shush him. You and your guards climb your way down your horses, walking towards the Emperor to properly greet him. On the third step, you kneel on your knee (followed by Jisoo and Namjoo) and bow your head down.

“Greeting to your majesty.” 

“Accepted,” the King says. “Welcome home, General (Y/L/N).” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” 

“Congratulations on your victory.” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” 

“On that note,” the King says. “Let us get straight to business.” He stands up, his hands folded behind him, and walks through the open doors, where the throne is present. 

Without a word, you three follow him into the court—keeping a safe distance. The King makes himself comfortable on the throne and you keep your head low, awaiting for his decision to be made… or announced. You’re still unsure as to where this is all going. 

A moment of silence passes and he speaks once more. 

“I have kept the court calm for now,” he says. “However, as some of the officials are still upset, we have come to a decision for your… announcement.” 

Your heart stops with each second he pauses, unaware of the chaos about to be unloaded onto you. 

“You are to be wed to my second-nephew, Yoon Jeonghan.” There’s a pause. “Consider it a gift from the royal family, who is forever in your debt for your military contributions.” 

You feel your heart actually dropping to your stomach. Your eyes are the only indicator of your internal panic, considering how they move around—unsure as to where they go. 

“Thank you, your majesty,” you manage to say. “I will forever remember your generosity for my crime.”

He holds up a hand, stopping you. “You have to remember that with this generosity, it is also your punishment.” 

“Pardon, your majesty?” 

There’s a sad smile on his face—a look that was similar to your father’s. “It’s generous for your deception, but it is still a punishment nevertheless. While he may be my nephew, I’m afraid he’s rather useless.” He sucks in a breath, trying to pick his next words carefully. “Your punishment is a pretty, but useless husband.” 

Your confusion is still apparent, considering how the King continues to speak—helping you understand the reasoning behind the court’s logic. 

“(Y/N),” he says. 

You freeze at the use of your first name. 

“You are the most distinguished general of our time, but you are still a woman. You have to be wed, especially at your age. Consider the repercussions had this happened at a later age.” 

You hear him make his way down, but you don’t dare to look up. 

He places a hand on your shoulder. “This is a good thing, (Y/N).” 

Yes, you think to yourself. 

This is a good thing.

White butterflies dance over the grass, teasing flowers as they move along. The flowers are in full bloom; even the dirt path, which was once wet and muddy, has patches of grass that pop out from the cracks. While you have traveled to many areas, you were never able to take in the sights—well, at least, the less violent ones. 

Ah, war. Politicians may declare war as much as they please, but they have yet to have seen how it destroys the average person—even a general as distinguished as yourself. 

“General?” 

“Yes,” you say. “What’s wrong, Dongho?” 

You don’t look back at him, but you can hear his horse’s footsteps catch up to yours—slowing down to remain a couple of paces behind. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You smile to yourself. “Rather sentimental.” You turn to him. “When was the last time we ever allowed ourselves to take in nature like this?” 

His smile reflects yours. “I believe it was the last time we had been called to fulfill our duty.” 

You click your tongue, with a disapproved shake of your head. “We need to go on these outings more often.” 

“Well,” Dongho starts. “It’s hard to go on leisurely walks as one of the nation’s most notable figures.” 

“And this is why you’re my second-in-command.” You let out another sigh, a bit longer than the previous one. “It’s hard to roam around with such a large target on your back.” 

“In hindsight, you are very skilled in many areas. Whether it’s swordsmanship, archery, or taekkyon, only a suicidal fool would challenge you.” 

“A suicidal fool, such as yourself?” 

“Yes, General,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m a suicidal fool, who has yet to have learned his lesson.” 

Dongho has been by your side for as long as you can remember. The two of you lived as neighbors, and evidently best friends, for ten years. When your father and brothers died, there was a brief separation period until you turned fourteen—in which you had met again, when you were starting your military training on request of your grandfather. 

Since then, you two trained together, side-by-side in combat for the next twelve years. You rose the ranks together—you as the General and he as the military counselor. 

You hear a groan from your left side. “Are we there yet?” 

“Kim Jisoo,” you call. “You should know by now how long these journeys are.” 

Your bodyguard playfully scowls at you. “Pardon me for being used to having company on these trips.” 

From beside her, Namjoo, your other bodyguard, directs a punch to her sister’s arm. “You speak as if I’m dead.” She makes eye contact with you, before rolling her eyes at her sisters antics. “Father would be upset had he heard your inauspicious words.” 

Lieutenant Kim worked alongside your father and you’re lucky enough to have him by yours as well. He’s like another family member—practically a close uncle, who is more than aware of your peculiar situation. Along with Lieutenant Kim came his two daughters, Jisoo and Namjoo.

Because he spent all of his time in the military, so did they. They learned as he taught and trained the other soldiers, including yourself and Dongho. Then, when the time came, you gave the both of them the bodyguard positions.

Of course there was protest, especially from their male counterparts who wanted their positions. While the Kims had a good laugh, there were also rumors that spread on your part—you had become known as a playboy, who became desperate for female attention while serving in the military.

Eventually, those rumors had been shut down, considering how your military contributions outweighed the gossip that spread due to envious soldiers. Your status easily overpowered theirs (lack thereof) and you dealt with them... accordingly. 

(No one died, but it didn’t mean you didn’t cause some emotional trauma for them. You were nicknamed the Devil for a reason).

But, alas, this is also the root of your predicament. 

“You aren’t the company I was referring to,” Jisoo says. 

“If you’re referring to those pretty boys back at the capitol,” Namjoo says. “You might as well be the dead one.” 

You chuckle at their banter. Jisoo is right (although you would never tell her): it would be nice to have a pretty boy by your side. But, with the current conditions, you know it would only be difficult for him. 

Granted, this would be made a burdensome situation for you as well—the only difference being that you’re made of the tougher materials in life and will not hesitate to kill a man when crossed against. 

Their banter fades into the background, with Dongho attempting to separate the two before the duo of sisters suddenly becomes solo. 

You look up at the bright and clear sky once more, enjoying the moment of peace before the storm strikes. 

It’s been about three days before you determined a stopping point, in order to set up camp for the evening. Your soldiers have been on rotation since then; you figure that they should get a well-needed break. 

You smirk to yourself. The joke’s on them, considering how the lower ranks are the ones who actually set up: the tents, the cots, the fires. 

The sun has already set for the day; the moon shines brightly and the stars twinkle against the evening sky. It’s truly the countryside; in the city, you don’t get sights like these. Too much pollution and such. It only means you and your soldiers still have a long road back to the capitol. 

A long sigh escapes you as you stand outside your tent—naturally, with Namjoo on one side and Jisoo on the other. 

“What’s wrong, General?” Namjoo asks. 

Jisoo turns to you. “Is something bothering you?” 

You let out another sigh. “It’s less of a bother and more of a concern.” 

“What kinds of concerns?” Jisoo asks. “Could we be of any help to you?” 

“Considering we are your protectors,” Namjoo adds with a pointed look. 

“And your best friends,” Jisoo says. 

“Female best friends.” 

You crack a small smile—one that rarely showed during this period. “When do you think…” Your words trail off, trying to find the correct words. “When do you think this charade should be over and done with?” 

Namjoo blinks wordlessly, not seeming to understand your question. 

“What do you mean, General?” Jisoo asks. “Are you referring to…? Possibly…?” 

“When can I fully become (Y/N) rather than just a general?”

“You’re not just a general,” Namjoo says. “You have risen up to become the General. The one who serves and protects your kingdom best.” 

“It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with my accomplishments. I’m proud of them, but I would prefer them to be my own rather than the son of the (Y/L/N) family.” You laugh inwardly at your own words. 

Son. What a joke. 

You did what you’ve had to, but, what was the real cost? The countless men you have killed? The women and children who were left with no one to care for them in this patriarchal society? 

What about your own life? What would life had been like, had your father and brothers not been killed? Would you have been married off to a family as well? Or would you still be in the military, serving with the other soldiers like now? 

There’s a moment of silence and the two struggle to find their words—whereas you’re left again to your own thoughts. 

It’s Jisoo who speaks first. “I want to tell you it would all be okay and things would remain the same.”

“But?” 

“But it won’t.” She tilts her head up, the stars shimmering in her eyes. “Things will be hard and things will be difficult. And, whenever you make that decision, we’ll be right here by your side.” 

Namjoo elbows you with a mischievous smile. “Just as we have always done. We pride yourselves as your protector.” 

Your smile grows. “That’s a relief to hear.” You turn away from them, taking a step back to push back the fabric of your tent to take a step in. “It’s too late to back out anyways.” 

“Too late for what, General?” Jisoo asks. 

Your head turns to her and your smile doesn’t waver. “The letter has already been sent.”

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “What do you advise us to do now?” 

The King sits at this throne, setting down the newly passed message from General (Y/L/N)—only to come in view with the court. 

While he may not be downright angry, he is well aware of how the court may feel. He is also unsure of what will result in his best military general, especially since the war is not exactly over and done with—considering how King Wu may still hold resentments due to the aftermath. 

He glances at the letter once again, feeling his head throb. Why did you have to choose now of all times? 

Just moments ago, the second messenger from your troops arrived—announcing his arrival and reading the letter aloud for the rest of the court to hear. Upon the King’s request, he had left the letter to the King, still in shock with the present state of affairs. 

General (Y/L/N) is a woman. 

“Your majesty,” Official Chun says, stepping out from his spot. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“It is unacceptable for a woman to be of such a high position, nevertheless a man’s rightful position. I propose we remove and replace the General.” 

Official Lee steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“If I may remind some of us here that we are forever indebted to the General. We continue to be so, considering the current circumstances. While he—” He pauses, before correcting himself. “While she may be a woman, she is of the (Y/L/N) family. Not only have they been loyal to the throne, serving our country for many years, they have made many great sacrifices.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Official Lee is correct. We cannot just remove the General.” He pauses, not before glancing at Official Chun and his followers. “The war might be over but we still have to be alert. Allowing her removal is the equivalent of death for our country.” 

Sensing Chun’s anger from the indirect remarks, Official Mae steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“General (Y/L/N) is a woman. A woman with too much power shall be the root our demise.” He glances at the other side, spotting those behind the Vice Premier. “She must be put into her place before she gets too ambitious.” 

Official Song steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“From what we are aware, the (Y/L/N) family does not have any male heirs. Considering the circumstances, we cannot afford to replace her when there are still repercussions of the war to be settled.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Chun starts to say. 

However, the King puts his hand up, pausing the conversation from continuing any further. He has already made his decision: you were to keep your position. Your accomplishments have stacked up, leaving the entire country indebted to you and your trained troops. Your reputation in the military is the most impressive—no one can be compared to you. 

Although, it might be too unsettling for the officials for you to remain in your position. There must be some punishment—some kind of way to appease the court while you can still maintain your position, but not harsh enough for you to refute. 

“General (Y/L/N) is to keep her position,” the King announces. He continues, shutting down any more possible verbal opposition. “Our country is indebted to the General. She has obtained previous territories that have been lost in previous battles and she has won countless wars, including the one we have just won. Replacing her would only lead to our doom and, even then, we have no suitable replacement.” 

Official Jeong steps out. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.”

“I believe that’s a wise decision, as expected from our King.” He swallows apprehensively. “However, we cannot leave her be. After all, she has deceived us—including you. What shall we do with her then?” 

The officials murmur and whispers are passed around. Removal is too drastic for the King, therefore an execution is already off the table. No one seems to have any ideas of a possible punishment. 

That is, anyone from the court. 

While the officials scramble for an idea, the Empress’ eunuch, Eunuch Hak, shuffles himself from her side to the King’s throne. 

There’s a hush that falls over the court officials. 

“The Empress requests an audience,” Eunuch Hak whispers to the King. 

“Accepted.” 

From behind her golden curtain, the Empress lifts herself from her spot and gracefully walks towards the court. Her head is held high with elegance and her footsteps are light—almost as if she’s gliding. The officials bow their heads as she walks between them, no one daring to look up at her. 

She stops in front of the throne, smiling as she looks up at the King. 

“Mother,” he says. “How do you suppose we deal with this predicament?”

“I am proposing a marriage.” 

The whispers start up again, unsure of what the Empress is trying to plan. 

“Your highness,” Official Kwon says. “To whom do you think the General shall be married to?” 

Her smile grows. “I believe that the second nephew is the most suitable candidate.” 

“Second nephew?” 

“She doesn’t mean—”

“The second prince?” 

The King straightens in his seat, intrigued with the idea. “You are proposing a marriage between the most distinguished figure in Korea and Yoon Jeonghan?” He takes a small breath in, leaning back with a cocked eyebrow as he contemplates the idea. 

Official Jeong speaks up once more. “Your highness, can you elaborate more as to how this is a suitable punishment?” 

“If you ask me, it’s explanatory,” Official Chun mumbles under his breath. 

Official Mae smirks at the comment, whispering back. “Prince Yoon is nothing more than a joke to the royal family.” 

The Empress lets out a small sigh, proceeding to pretend as if she didn’t hear the rude comments about her grandson. 

“It’s not about punishment.” she says. “It’s about balance.” Seeing the apprehensive look from the King, she continues. “Jeonghan is rather unorthodox. He spends much of his time dancing at the brothels and admiring artwork rather than martial arts or sports.” 

There’s a murmur of agreement amongst the officials. 

The Empress takes it as a sign to continue. “While he is a healthy man with three lovers, he is still uncommitted and unmarried. If the two were to be married, it can help solve the problems that are occurring for both parties.” 

The King nods silently, but awaits for the court. 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says.

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Her highness makes a good argument. I agree.” He thinks for a moment. “Not only would the General be married off to produce a male heir, but the rumors of Prince Yoon could also settle down once he’s married.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Lee says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“I agree with her highness and Official Kwon. This is more advantageous on our part,” he says. “I mean no offense when I say this, but Prince Yoon’s reputation is rather…” He pauses. “Unfavorable, at the moment. The General can help with that change and his with hers when the news spread in the villages.” 

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “Shall we proceed with the marriage then?” 

“Yes, we shall,” the King says with a nod. “From this day, we shall begin the wedding preparations. Once the General arrives back to the capital, Prince Yoon Jeonghan will become her husband.” 

The Empress moves herself to the sidelines as the King stands up, causing the officials to stop in their spots and lower their heads once more. He steps down from his throne, starting his descent down the stairs and onto the path laid out for him. 

The Vice Premier follows him from the right and his majesty’s eunuch, Eunuch Boo, follows him from the left—their conversation continuing in hushed tones. 

The Empress leaves shortly after the King’s departure with Eunuch Hak on one side and Court Lady Nam on the other, leaving the officials with themselves. 

“Court Lady Nam,” she says. “You shall inform Princess Consort Yoon.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She turns to her right. “Eunuch Hak.” 

“Yes, your highness?” 

“Begin the wedding preparations.” 

A familiar shout is heard from across the field. The ground trembles as their cavalry arrives, but you and your men stand your ground. Many soldiers in armor, embellished with bright red and yellow silks, start to fill the landscape. They halt within three miles away and part for the man himself, General Yang. 

He sits on his horse, looking with nothing short of arrogance with a smug smirk tugged on his lips. With a draw of his sword, he lets out a roar with his men. You, on the other hand, are unable to hide your irritation at their behavior. 

“General!” he shouts. The opposition quieted down. He continues. “It’s an honor to meet you on the battlefield once more! However, it is a shame that nothing can save you now!” 

“General Yang!” you greet. “Let’s skip the pleasantries! Only one will survive and it will not be you!” Without looking back at your soldiers, you give your command. “Anyone who retreats will be beheaded on the spot!” 

“Yes, General!” 

The archers stretch their bows; the foot soldiers aim the cannons and Dongho passes your ax. The drummers pound the drums. 

“CHARGE!” 

Everything blurs as your foot soldiers charge themselves forward, swiftly moving past you with their swords drawn. The hooves pound against the ground and battle cries are heard from all directions. Metal clashes with metal; screams of pain and agony are ring throughout. They eventually stop—their bodies falling still, with gaping stab wounds that are beyond repair. 

Despite being surrounded by the chaos, you can only focus on General Yang himself—who is growing angrier as his men begin to fall, one by one. Without hesitation, he charges towards you. With a kick of your heel, your horse starts up and accelerates its speed—its rein on one hand and your ax firmly grasped in the other. The wind blows against your face, dancing along with the fabric that peaks shyly from underneath your armor. You easily slaughter those in enemy colors who block your pathway, leaving countless men dead at the mercy of your feet. 

The two of you meet towards the center, circling around as the bloodbath occurs in the background. Yang’s head is held high and his hand has a strong grip on his sword, which is drawn towards you. 

“General (Y/L/N),” he says with baring teeth. “Today is the day you will die.” 

You smirk at his brash statement. “How foolish of you to assume a devil can die.” 

His snarl only grows before swiftly swinging his sword towards your direction. You easily dodge his swing, leaning your back onto the horse and letting the wind blow past. He manages to thrust the sword again, only for it to be collided with your ax. He tries to aim towards your hands, in a pathetic attempt to push the weapon out of your hand, but fails to do so. Repeatedly. 

Your ax scrapes against his sword, blocking every hit he directs towards you. Having known him for the past six months—at least, in battle—you know his techniques. He’s such a caveman, so impulsive; ah, men... they really are too simple of creatures. 

Your smirk grows at his miserable attempt to dominate over you. With one twist of your wrist and a shove from your shoulder, his sword rolls out of his grasp and falls onto the ground. In one swift motion, you point your ax directly to his chest and pull out the sword from the side, pressing it against his jawline—giving it a small nick, just because you can. 

“You can surrender and survive,” you say. “Or you can continue this ridiculous war and lose your life.” 

His jaw clenches, trying to keep his breath calm. “Never. I refuse to be with the losing side.”

“Oh, Yang,” you say. “Dying as you lived: prideful.” 

“Men have pride and honor.” 

“And the same pride and honor shall be the cause of your downfall.” 

With those words, you pierce your ax into his chest and watch as he stills. Within a second of your attack, you rip the weapon out of his chest and slice his neck for reassurance. He falls off his horse and hits the ground with a grunt, spitting out the blood that blocks his airways. He struggles to keep his breath steadily; eventually, he falls once more and his entire body stills. 

His second-in-command, who spots his general on the ground, immediately provides orders. 

“RETREAT! THE GENERAL IS DOWN!” He pulls on his horse, turning himself and the other soldiers, the ones who are still alive, back to their home base. “RETREAT!” 

You sit perfectly still on your horse, watching the enemy all flee like the cowards they are. No one attempts to even look at you—nevertheless, aim towards you. Dongho returns to your side and, without a word, takes the bloody sword out of your hand. 

As they continue to flee, you hear the familiar drum beat echo throughout the field—slowly getting louder and louder as the field empties. You raise your battle ax and your men cheer in the sweet, sweet victory. 

With one hand up, they are silenced. 

“Do not forget the fellow soldiers who have fallen. We shall honor their memory with this victory. But, with this, we must remember: the battle may be over, but the war has not been won.”

“Yes, General!”

You turn to Dongho. “Let’s head back to celebrate.” 

He smiles in response. “Let’s go home.” 

The news of General (Y/L/N)’s success travels quickly, getting to the city’s capital as soon as possible, while the military were on their way back. The messenger races against time, swiftly moving across the country, galloping on his horse to get the message to the King. 

On the other hand, in the heart of the city’s capitol, the King sits on his throne, which is located above the officials. His mother, the Empress, sits behind him—practically hiding behind a curtain of gold that cuts her off from the others in the gathering room. While she may have more experience and wisdom, she is still just a woman. 

They were currently trying to figure out how to solve the natural disaster issues that had struck earlier this week. The flood had struck all at once a couple of days ago and the King found himself in a disadvantageous position, primarily with the citizens of Seoul who were demanding answers. The officials weren’t of any help either; each of them were simply trying to benefit themselves. 

The King rubs his temple as the officials endlessly argue over who should be taxed and where the money should be going: the villagers or the palace? 

With all this noise, he cannot think. 

Almost as if it was an answered prayer, the messenger arrives on his horse at the door. As he steps off and heads into the room, practically running down the aisle. The officials’ chatter dies down. 

The messenger bows, holding out the news in his hands. “Greetings to your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

He straightens up, opening the scroll to present to the King, along with the officials. “I bring news from the battlegrounds. We have won another battle and General Yang has been killed.” 

The crowd of officials murmur amongst themselves, practically in shock from the success. Even the King is pleasantly surprised. While your family has an excellent military lineage, you have certainly outdone yourself. 

“However,” the messenger continues, before anyone can celebrate prematurely. “General (Y/L/N) advises to keep an eye on the Chinese military since about half of Yang’s army have still survived, including his military council. Until then, the general and his army are currently on the road back to the capital.” He bows towards the King once more, before making his exit towards his horse to alert the others at their original home base. 

Once the messenger clears, a high-ranking official, Official Kwon, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Because you have promoted General (Y/L/N) to his position, we have successfully taken back control of our borders. What would you like for us to focus on next?” 

His majesty lets out a small sigh, slightly tilting his back further into the seat as he ponders. “We need to strategize ourselves politically,” he says. “Surely, King Wu will want to arrange a meeting soon. The question I pose is about how we shall approach it.” 

A mid-ranking official, Official Chun, steps out from the right, keeping distance from Official Kwon. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“I suggest we wait for the invitation,” he says. “If he suggests a meeting, I recommend that we have the meeting at our palace and prepare the soldiers for a possible attack.” 

Another high-ranking official, Official Song, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Official Chun is correct because we should prepare for a counter-attack. However, he is also wrong because we might focus too much on our capital and that could lead to the endangerment of the border.” 

Chun, in silent response, gives Song a side-look that is nothing short of annoyance. 

The King nods silently, awaiting for any other ideas the officials might want to contribute to the conversation. The officials’ heads remain bowed down, anticipating for the King’s response. 

“Song is correct,” he says. “We must prepare ourselves for any possible attack.” He pauses. “However, we should wait for General (Y/L/N) and Military Counselor Kang to arrive, before we officially decide.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Since the general and counselor are returning after three years, shall we prepare a parade in their honor?” 

“Yes, we shall,” the King says. “After all, these two have sacrificed themselves for our country. A parade is the least we can do.” He lets out a sigh; the others are unsure if it’s one of relief or apprehension. “Because, without those two men, I am afraid of what the consequences may be.”