#yu hon

The child left behind.

"Please don't cry, father. Mother's gone, but I'm still here"

When one parent is lost, the burden can fall especially hard on the child as the surviving parent relies on them and/or grows absent. In a way, the loss of one parent is the loss of both.

"You're not alone" – a BIG THEME for the story.

"I need to stay cheerful so my father doesn't cry"

I usually do the The Apothecary Diaries connection, but surprise! Here I'm calling on Fruits Basket and Tohru with how Yona must be there and behave a certain way for her father's benefit like how Tohru did for her mother after her father died.

"You're not alone. And...I have Soo-Won with me" – Yona has Soo-Won as a friend and a support and she has Hak, which we are repeatedly shown but Yona never seems to address (at least not yet or when looking at the past). Could it be she's simply taking him for granted? Has him as such a staple that he isn't noteworthy or "special"? I take it she doesn't realize how important he is to her yet. These two, both in denial in some regard.

"That's amazing, Hak! You cheered Yona right up" – no notes, just genuinely hilarious. And shows off that Yona-Hak dynamic we've come to know. The teasing and comfort.

"Where's my father?" "His majesty is extremely busy. He only just ascended the throne, remember." – poor Yona :( She tries to be there for her father, but feels a bit abandoned by him.

But! If King Il only recently ascended the throne and his wife recently died...is it possible that Soo-Won's father is behind Yona's mother's death?

Even in this memory/flashback, all is not well and there's a lot happening in the background that young Yona probably doesn't understand. This is ultimately a feel-good memory, but Yona is missing the full picture as she focuses on her personal relationships and trauma (not that I blame her).

Yona, Soo-Won, and Hak really are a trio of best friends.

"Lately I've been holding Yona's hand while we sleep, so this is just like normal" "You do that? I think I should leave. I'm in the way." "What?! All three of us should hold hands!" – Hak is already feeling some jealousy and his "I'm in the way" is very much the outline of his future approach to the Yona and Soo-Won situation. And Soo-Won's obliviousness to the lines being drawn within their group is also very telling.

Soo-Won is doing all this and expects us to believe that the way he acted with Hak and Yona was all a lie. Look at those hearts. He is a lil bean excited by everything.

"I didn't know he was your grandfather." "I'm an orphan. Grandpa and I aren't actually related." – Soo-Won didn't know about Hak's connections and status, these things didn't really matter to these kids. Only Hak already feels like he isn't "really" the heir to the Wind Tribe. He feels unworthy and like an outsider.

"But...Mundok came to see you. He must really love you, huh?" – yes, you tell him Yona! She is of course hurting on the inside because her father hasn't come to see her, but this is also a sweet moment between her and Hak. Don't let him be such a grump resigned to feeling unworthy!

Soo-Won's love and admiration for his father just pours out of him. He also admires Mundok and his strength, showing what Soo-Won values in a person and what he will try to emulate.

"Uncle Yu-Hon...he's so tough and stern. He's nothing like Soo-Won at all" – or so it seems, for now.

"Yon-Hi was determined to come too...But in her condition, it would be dangerous for her to fall ill, so I made her stay home" – what's up with Soo-Won's mom? Is she pregnant? What happened to her? Soo-Won (in present day) seems like he doesn't really have anyone.

"You mustn't make your mother worry. I want you to slaughter this sickness as soon as possible" – strength is valued above all else by Soo-Won's father too. It seems he is probably hard on his son too, at least having high expectations of him.

"It hurts so much, father...Don't abandon me."

Little Yona is a reflection of current Yona (and vice-versa) – in moments of hurt, she retreats into herself, becoming distant and depressed. She doesn't eat or take care of herself, as if life (or her life specifically) is not worth living/doesn't matter.

"Yeah...I'm sorry. I'm, sorry for thinking I was all alone."

More emphasis on Yona having Hak and Soo-Won– they're her people (along with her father, but he is not there for her as much).

But King Il does say Yona gets lonely when Hak (and Soo-Won) aren't there, and it's true–what does she do when they're gone? Loneliness is still a big part of her life. I said she lives for snatches of moments with Soo-Won, but moments with Soo-Won and Hak light up her life and drive her forward (though infatuated Yona seems to forget about the Hak of it all).

I wonder how Yona's loneliness shifts when Hak becomes her personal guard and is a more permanent fixture.

"Your father is the king. He's doing his job even at a time like this. I admire that." – Hak's words are to cheer Yona up, but I think he also demonstrates true admiration for duty.

Yona joyfully eating the terrible food her father made her really exemplifies how much she values acts of care from other people.

I said back in chapter 1 that Yona hasn't really thought of the future much beyond wanting to be with Soo-Won– she's not really ambitious or caught up in who she could be or what she could do, she's happy living for those small moments and the people she loves. She wants to love and be loved in return. She knows she's the princess in terms of the lifestyle she's gotten used to, but she hasn't considered the implications of being a princess– at least she hadn't until her father brought up that her position might put the ones she loves in danger.

I love the look exchanged by Hak and Soo-Won, expressing their mutual care for Yona.

A stab to the heart!

"I wish we could all sleep next to each other forever and ever, even if it meant having that cold" – and this from Soo-Won! At this point, he too had simple desires.

"We don't have to be sick. Staying together...is pretty simple." "You're right. Soo-Won...Hak...let's play again tomorrow. Let's play forever and ever..." –I love Hak being the one to point out that they can just choose to stay together and here we basically get a promise of that, an expression of the intention to remain close forever. Ouch.

Now that childhood and that promise is forever tainted. Yona (and Soo-Won and Hak) will never get it back.

I wonder if his father's death is what tainted it for Soo-Won and changed his heart. And now with the death of her father, Yona is forced to experience the same.

Soo-Won threw all of this, the love and the friendship, away. And basically ruined it for all of them, but I feel it isn't just his fault. Whatever we're missing from the story of King Il and his brother will shed some light on this.

It's sad that now even happy memories must be viewed through this new lens. Yona can't think of Soo-Won or her father without feeling the weight of what happened.

The pain continues when Yona wakes from her memory-dream-nightmare to find Hak gone. Her facial expressions are such a journey! From panic to relief at seeing Hak to feeling the full weight of sadness and grief as reality sets in.

She had her father, Soo-Won, and Hak, but now Hak is all she has left.

"The three of us...always used to gaze up at the sky together. That sky is nowhere to be see now." 💔

What was and the future that could have been are gone. And Soo-Won isn't unaffected, even if he pretends to be. He remembers it all too.

The symbolic end of childhood.

Soo-Won lets Hak and Yona go. "You're going to let them live?"

"Now that they've left the palace, there's nothing they can do to us. Anyway...we've got more important things to do." – In spite of everything, Soo-Won still cares for them but hides his affection behind practical justifications.

Our broken trio. Three different expressions.

Soo-Won is angry and determined to follow the path he has set on. Yona is lost and sad. And interestingly, Hak still looks to the sky.

Yu-hon stopped in mid-swing of his sword, turning to look at his son with a spark of irritation in his eyes. “What? Who told you that?”

Su-won glanced to the side, idly kicking his small legs, precise voices and faces floating through his mind. “People. They spread rumors, when things don’t go the way they think they’re supposed to.”

After another moment of unimpressed glaring, Yu-hon returned to his drills. “People like that know nothing. Let their words roll off your back, son, they’re unworthy of your consideration. And Su-won?”

“Yes, Father?”

“To you, it’s His Majesty or King Ju-nam. Show respect. Now...pay attention.” Yu-hon paused. “I have come to terms with the fact that my only son and heir will never be king. But that does not mean you will be passed over, or forgotten. No country lives and dies by its king alone. You will become a warrior, and the pride of Kouka, just like your father before you.”

Yu-hon was not a particularly clever or thoughtful person. He was like a mountain turned into a man, stern and cold and unmoved. As far as his feelings went, Su-won was no different than the rest of Kouka: he admired Yu-hon to distraction, loved him with every inch of his heart, and wished to share in the blessing that the gods must certainly have given him, to become such a powerful hero. 

However, Su-won had what nobody else would ever gain: Yu-hon’s blood, and his attention. Yong-hi had made clear that she wished to have no more children, very soon after Su-won’s birth; he had not learned this from either of his parents and he often wondered whether he had somehow been the cause. Yu-hon could never seem to deny his wife her wishes, and hadn’t said a word of his own thoughts on the matter of siring more sons. He made up for it by resting all of his hopes and dreams on Su-won’s shoulders, and Su-won was more than willing to accept the burden.

To that end, he was willing to follow his father anywhere, in anything. The first real sword he held had been Yu-hon’s, at his age, and he learned its art quickly. (It never quite felt as home in his hand as his father said it should, but he figured that that didn’t matter.) He was permitted to sit on the sidelines at some of the war meetings, provided he promised only to listen. He learned to ride at his side, on the colt of his prized war stallion, no less. 

“Look well on our kingdom, Su-won,” Yu-hon said. The bluffs around Kuuto were his favorite place to take his son riding, for the views they could appreciate from their edges. “It will never be yours to rule over. But it will be yours to protect, with everything you have.”

Su-won nodded. His love for other people so easily blended together with love for his kingdom. “Yes, Father.”

“I understand you’ve already made some connections within Kuuto?” Yu-hon turned to his son with a smirk. “Ju-do told me about that little adventure you had in its underbelly, with Mun-deok’s boy and little Yona.”

Su-won giggled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t mean for it to get out of hand. Yona had never seen the castle town before and — ”

“Yes, we must obey the will of our rulers,” Yu-hon cut him off, and Su-won did not pipe back up to correct him. “But I heard Mun-deok’s boy showed you up with his power. I won’t have that, Su-won. You must stand above all other men, in strength and stature. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

Su-won did not argue to defend the value of his own contribution; keeping that knowledge quietly to himself felt like enough. But at his age, he was still accepting his father’s word as law, and took it for granted that Yu-hon’s encapsulation of power was the superior one. The mountain was emotionless, and could not be dictated to. Nor could it be moved or defied, or pierced by a sword...

...Or so he had thought. 

Until the day he died, Su-won was sure he’d never forget how it sounded when his father’s body was run through, all the breath leaving it in one awful gasp, and collapsed like a stringless puppet to the floor. He didn’t remember what King Il’s face had looked like: blank, like an executioner’s? Angry, like one provoked into abandoning his most closely held principles? Sorrowful, like...well, a man who’d just slaughtered his only brother like an animal? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

Su-won had been sure he would be next. Not only had he been careless in running and hiding, too panicked to think clearly, but what would be the point of killing a prince and general and not getting rid of his heirs, too? It had been a week of holing up in their manor before he’d realized that the sword really wasn’t coming down on him, too.

Then once he’d got that through his head...what was he to do? The mountain had crumbled before him, everything that his father was destroyed by one quick movement of a blade. Su-won could barely comprehend it. The only thing he had known for sure was that he could not — could never — allow the same to happen to him.

And he knew now how to ensure that.

He was never going to be his father’s son, not in the way that the kingdom and Yu-hon himself had expected him to be. He could not be the mountain, for that was far more fallible than it looked even if it had suited him. He had instead dedicated his life to the opposite approach. 

The first time he had seen his uncle Il after the murder, he had thrown on a bright smile and run to give him a hug. He doted on Yona, genuinely; once he killed her father, there was no guarantee she’d never find out about what he’d done, and he wished to enjoy what time with her he had left. With his father and teacher gone, he focused on gleaning as much as he could about strategy and combat from his friendships with Hak and Ju-do. And he flexed his fingers a little more every day on the unseen strings that set Kuuto in motion when he played at them. 

Rather than the mountain, Su-won was the water that wore down the stone, the wind that cut through the skin and froze to the bone, the shadow that traveled everywhere so it could see and know all. 

Grown now, after ten years of setting everything necessary for his coup in motion, Su-won considered that. He sat alone in his room as the night dragged on, unable to sleep, idly cradling a sword in his hands.

“Father,” he murmured so softly that he barely heard himself. “I’m sorry to tell you that you were wrong. I was never going to be like you. Had you lived...I fear I would have disappointed you with our differences. You truly did wish for the crown, and never got it. I still care nothing for it, for its own sake, and yet...”