#ahhh apologies this is so short and also the cliffhanger but next chapter will be up extremely soon i promise!!!

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 8

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1k

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“This is my father,” Lee Chang says, with finality. “He was once one of the greatest kings Joseon ever knew, but now he has been reduced to something less than human – a treacherous feat carried out by none other than the woman you see standing before you!”

The monster thrashes in its bindings, spittle flying and its jaw – dislocated by its overenthusiastic struggles – hanging grotesquely and rattling with every violent movement it makes. Blood drips from its blackened skin and its eyes, unseeing, roll and dart from side to side.

It makes for a truly unnerving sight, and again Lee Chang feels his heart clench at the sight of his regal father reduced to such a pitiful figure.

“Arrest the queen!” cries one of the ministers from behind him. Lee Chang turns at the familiar voice, and nods in approval as he catches the eye of the Minister of War - a man who had been kind to him in his youth, and who had been tacitly in support of his initial plans to stage a coup for the throne.

The Commander moves forward to take her into custody, but immediately she springs into action, drawing a sword from behind her and hefting it aloft. Although Lee Chang has never before seen her don a weapon, she holds it with a reckless confidence that speaks of her desperation and fury. Instinctually he starts forward as the baby begins to fall from her other arm, but she catches herself and manages to return the bundle of cloth back to her hip. The baby, jostled awake, begins to howl its anger and dissatisfaction.

“Step back!” she shrieks. “Step back! Or I will kill this child!”

Commander Min continues forward, but Lee Chang makes a slicing motion with his hand, and with a side glance at him, the man stops.

“It is not a child of the royal line!” protests one of the officials. “What does its life matter?”

“What do you mean by that!” thunders Lee Chang. “Every life is a life worth saving. It means nothing that it is not of the royal line. It is still a living child!”

The queen laughs, a chilling sound that is dissonant with the sound of the baby’s infuriated cries.

“My father said it would be easy to kill you,” she says, “and he was right. You’re nothing more than a spineless fool caught up in your conceptions of morality. You should’ve just died at the hands of the monsters.”

“Let the child go,” Lee Chang calls desperately, but at the same time, his hand closes over Yeong-shin’s wrist.

Yeong-shin does not say anything, but a small sigh escapes through his teeth.

Lee Chang continues to talk, his eyes trained on the baby in her arms. “He is an innocent child,” he says. “He has no part in our fight. Let him go.”

“You are truly a fool if you think your words can sway me,” she laughs coldly, and takes another step back. She is almost to the door at the back of the audience chamber. “The child’s life matters not to me. It is not even my child. And even if it were - ”

She never gets to finish her sentence, for at that moment, Yeong-shin’s sword slashes through the bindings holding the monster-who-was-king, and he gives a mighty shove to its back, throwing it halfway across the room towards the queen. Instantly, Lee Chang leaps forward. His blade sings as it leaves its sheath.

The queen shrieks as the monster descends on her. She makes a pass at its neck with her sword, but the blow glances off the many metal accessories adorning its clothes, and she howls in pain as she twists her wrist.

Lee Chang rips the baby from her hands and brings his sword down decisively on the monster’s neck. It severs his head, and both parts of its body fall onto the ground with a soft thud.

Blood drips from his sword and stains the pristine soles of the queen’s socks. She is covered in it, covered in the blood and offal of her former husband, and Lee Chang thinks it is poetic in a way.

The monster had bitten into her leg before he had managed to kill it, numerous large merciless bites which had torn flesh from her waif-like legs and left white bone gleaming in the muted lamplight. It will be a painful death, he knows, even if she is treated, for the wounds will fester and spread infection to the rest of her body. His hand tightens on the handle of his sword.

“This is the last favour I grant to you,” he says quietly. “On the basis that you once were my father’s bride, and once my supposed mother.” And he lifts his blade once more.

***

Later, days later, when the bodies have been disposed of and the surroundings thoroughly scrubbed over by the palace maids, Lee Chang stands before the throne.

“It is yours, Your Highness,” says the Minister of War, his voice respectful.

“Thank you,” Lee Chang answers, but still he hesitates.

Somehow he had always imagined that he would ascend to the throne in rather a different way. Had always thought that, when the time came for him to take his rightful seat, it would have been to fanfare and the enthusiastic cheers of his new subjects. But now – he stands only recently exonerated from murder, covered in the blood of his father and false-mother, and the deaths of a hundred others on his hands.

Then again – no one could have predicted this turn of events, could they?

He has never doubted that he would make a good king. Not until today, this moment in time. It is ironic, he supposes, that it was only in his overconfident youth that he had thought himself on top of the world, and now that he has been baptised through blood and fire, he has lost that confidence in himself.

Suddenly he feels warmth at his back, and Yeong-shin is there behind him. He does not say a word, and he does not touch Lee Chang, but his very presence calms him. Lee Chang turns, only slightly, so that he can see Yeong-shin’s face out of the corner of his eye.

Yeong-shin’s gaze is intent on his, and in his eyes there is only Lee Chang’s reflection.

“You give me courage,” Lee Chang says softly, so softly that none other but Yeong-shin would be able to hear. “You are willing to die for me, to follow me to the ends of the earth, and somehow that does not bring me fear – but courage.”

Yeong-shin’s eyes gentle infinitesimally, and the corner of his mouth tips upwards. It is the first time that Lee Chang has seen him smile.

He turns back to the throne, and squares his shoulders. It is his responsibility, his birth-right, and it is a role that he will not shirk – indeed, he will embrace it, as the duty he has dedicated his entire life towards fulfilling. And so he ascends the steps to the throne, and seats himself on the seat he has watched his father take, his entire life.

There is a heaviness that he had not realised his father carried, that descends upon him as he takes the throne. The weight of responsibility is a difficult one to bear indeed, he realises, as he looks out upon the assembled ministers, bowing and awaiting his next command. Yeong-shin, Mu-yeong and Seo-bi are the only ones still standing, for he has ordered them to refrain from kowtowing.

“Today, I take the throne as King Seonjo, from my father King Gongheon Heoneui Somun Gwangsuk Gyeonghyo the Great,” he says calmly. It is my honour to serve my people.”

“Long live the king,” the ministers chorus, and they bow, once, twice, thrice, four times. The sonorous, synchronous rustle of their clothes as they move echoes through the hall, and it is a solemn sound. Lee Chang inclines his head in acknowledgement of their gestures of fealty.

He is not properly king yet, he knows – that will have to wait for the official coronation, when he bids goodbye to his father’s tomb and makes his pledge to rule fairly and generously; but it is enough. Enough for him to begin to bring together the pieces of their broken country. Enough for him to thread his needle, and begin the arduous task of patching the seams back together.

The meeting passes quickly. First the Minister for Rites speaks of the need for a coronation, to unite the people behind the crowning of a new monarch and hopefully hide the disgraces of the Haewon Cho clan’s plots, behind a veneer of celebration. It is unanimously agreed upon that the event should be staged as soon as possible, to reduce potential uprisings in the absence of a king, and before rumours begin to spread about the happenings in the palace.

Then the Minister for Taxation raises the issue of the lost taxes from the south, given that their crops have been largely destroyed by rogue monsters from the plague trampling all over the fields, and livestock decimated by starving peasants. He openly suggests for taxes to be increased in the rest of the empire, to make up for lost income.

To that, Lee Chang does not even pay him the courtesy of his attention.

“Minister Han,” he says instead, coldly, icily, “taxes will not be raised, and that is the end of the matter.” He turns to the Minister for War.

“Minister Seong, we must send men to the south to eliminate the rest of the monsters, and safeguard what remaining food and resources the south has,” he continues. “How many men can we spare?”

Summarily dismissed, the Minister for Taxation shrinks into himself and withdraws. He will be someone to keep an eye on.

And so the meeting continues, in much the same manner. Many of Lord Cho’s cronies – and, indeed, many officials who had been loyal to his father as well – make frivolous suggestions about matters of little import, until Lee Chang feels like banging his head on the nearest pillar and committing suicide. Is this the glorious role he had envisioned himself taking on, his whole life? He had known kingship to be a tiresome job, oftentimes, from the strict words of his tutors, but in his memories his father had always ruled supreme over his officials.

It is only now that he realises that that control had been hard-won, and the officials’ respect well-earned.

It will be a long battle ahead of him, just to fight for recognition from the ministers, when most of them have not seen his achievements in the south, and think of him still as the spoiled man-child he had been when he had left Hanyang.

But, he thinks to himself, it is a battle that deserves fighting, and indeed, one he knows he will win.

The Minister for Rites steps forward, and prepares to raise one last issue. Lee Chang readies himself for another tedious spiel, possibly about building a statue of himself in the middle of Hanyang or remodelling the curtains in the East Wing of the palace or some other trivial matter like so, but he finds himself surprised.

“There is one last matter, Your Highness,” says the man gravely, with a facetious bow. “You must take a wife.”

Lee Chang turns his head, very slowly, and looks upon the Minister. He does not speak, and so the man takes it as his cue to continue.

“There must be a new heir to the throne, Your Highness. You are childless – if you don’t mind me saying – but the royal line must go on. May I offer – if my humble self could perhaps give a suggestion – I have a daughter, nine years your junior, and she is known to be one of the beauties of the capital. If Your Highness so pleases, it would be an honour to arrange a matchmaking session between your esteemed self and my humble daughter.”

“Your Highness!” calls another minister, and he comes forward with an equally pompous bow. “My daughter is twenty-two years this year, and therefore in the prime of her youth – it would be an honour for me to arrange the meeting between yourself and my humble daughter!”

“Your Highness - ”

“I do have an heir,” Lee Chang says quietly. Immediately, a wall of silence descends on the room, and the jaws of all the assembled officials drop. It would be a comical sight, if Lee Chang felt like laughing. But he does not.

Slowly, he rises from his seat, and surveys his audience.

“I have an heir,” he says again, solemnly. “It will be the child who was cruelly stolen from his mother’s breast by the former queen. The child has no mother, no father, and so I will take him to be mine.”

This decision he has made with no one else’s knowledge but Mu-yeong’s, and his wife’s. The boy will be in danger without his protection, for any former ally of the Haewon Cho clan could potentially use him to replace Lee Chang on the throne, by claiming his heritage as that of the queen’s. The proof they had provided of the queen’s misdeeds was, after all, largely circumstantial, and based mainly on the confessions derived from the residents of Naesonjae.

Furthermore, Lee Chang has vowed that never again will a clan other than the Lees control his kingdom. His father had eventually lost autonomy and his precious control over his power through his marriage to the Haewon Cho daughter. Marriage to a daughter from another powerful house is the last thing Lee Chang wants.

And so the three of them had agreed upon this plan. The child would never know who his true parents were, but Mu-yeong and his wife would care for the baby, and therefore be his family in all but name. In doing so, the child would have all the luxuries afforded to a prince of his station, and he would have a good life – far better than the one Mu-yeong and his wife could have given him, in their previous incarnations.

It is a good, solid plan. There are logical reasons behind it, and Lee Chang had deliberated extensively over it in the days leading up to today, before he had taken the throne. There is no reason why anyone would object.

Yet still he knows Yeong-shin will not agree to his plan, and therefore he had not asked him. Lee Chang knows this, sure as day, knows that his objection will be for the same reason why he had even thought of such an outlandish idea in the first place – for the real reason why he does not wish to marry.

He cannot stop himself from darting a glance towards Yeong-shin, to gauge his reaction, and indeed, it does not disappoint. There is a dark anger in Yeong-shin’s eyes, and a rosy flush suffusing his neck and cheeks. They will have words later, Lee Chang knows, but still, he will not change his mind – and he makes sure that the ministers realise this.

***

The outrage of the ministers when they had finally realised that Lee Chang would not budge on his decision is nothing compared to the fury of Yeong-shin, later when they are quietly in their quarters.

“What were you thinking?!” Yeong-shin cries. “Why would you decide such a thing?!” He paces up and down the room, agitation making his movements jerky and robbed of their usual grace. Lee Chang thinks of a tiger in a cage, champing at the bars of its prison, and yet unable to escape. Yeong-shin has a tiger living under his skin, and somehow, Lee Chang finds in himself the mad desire to unlock the cage and let the tiger free.

“Mu-yeong,” he says quietly, and the guard darts a worried glance over at him, from where he stands by the door, hand on the hilt of his sword, his body tense and ready for battle. “Please. Leave us alone.”

Mu-yeong opens his mouth to protest, but then he must see something in Lee Chang’s eyes, for he clamps his mouth shut. His eyes are burning with concern – not for Lee Chang’s life, for he knows Yeong-shin will not touch a hair on Lee Chang’s head – but for something else entirely. And it is that something else that makes him leave the room at last.

They are alone in the room, now, and the candle is burning low on its wick. The incense burner suffuses the room with a thick, heady fragrance, and perhaps it is its influence that is making Lee Chang giddy – or perhaps not. He does not know.

“Yeong-shin,” he murmurs, and Yeong-shin stops abruptly in his movements. He turns to look at Lee Chang over his shoulder, and there is a hunted gaze in his eyes.

“I do not understand,” he begins, his voice trembling with controlled rage, “why you would choose to do such a thing. You could have any woman, any person of honourable blood as your bride, and yet you throw it all away.”

“I have my reasons,” Lee Chang answers steadily. He explains his line of thinking, his discussions with Mu-yeong and his wife, but still Yeong-shin’s ferocity does not calm. His anger is like a hurricane, overwhelming in its intensity and frightening in its violence, but somehow, it cools and calms Lee Chang, like the storm-rain that washes through the streets after.

“There could have been other ways,” Yeong-shin says bitterly, casting his head away and breaking eye contact like he has been burned. “You could have taken a foreign bride, or one from one of the lesser houses. Instead, now you have sworn not to marry. I do not understand your thoughts. You are not telling me everything.”

“You are right,” Lee Chang hums in agreement. He steps closer, and Yeong-shin does not move. Now they are toe to toe, and Lee Chang no longer smells the fragrance of the incense burner; the only scent that fills his mind is the heady musk of Yeong-shin’s body.

Yeong-shin’s skin is scarred and rough under his hands as he lifts the fingers of his right hand to cradle Yeong-shin’s face. Yeong-shin lifts his face, and now the look in his eyes is plaintive, pleading.

“I will kiss you now,” Lee Chang whispers. “Tell me if you do not want it.”

Yeong-shin’s lips are chapped from the cold, but they part beautifully the movement Lee Chang kisses him. It is a soft, chaste kiss, quickly over, but still Lee Chang feels a warmth bloom in his chest, and sparks dance across his skin. It will leave a mark, he thinks dazedly; the place where Yeong-shin grips his elbow and burns through the thin fabric of his clothes.

Gently – although he feels something in his chest wither and die – he removes his hand from Yeong-shin’s cheek, and steps back. Yeong-shin’s arm falls and lays limply at his side.

He had been mistaken, Lee Chang realises. It was not under Yeong-shin’s skin that the tiger lay. Yeong-shin himself was the caged beast, the palace his cage, and in Lee Chang’s hands lay the key.

He finds that suddenly he must sit down.

Slowly, painfully, he makes his way to the window, and looks out. Snowflakes are falling on the courtyards of the palace, and people walking through the snow leave footprints in the whiteness that are quickly replaced by fresh snowfall. He wonders if his presence in Yeong-shin’s life will be just so – there for barely a second, and quickly erased.

The silence becomes too stifling, and he must break it. “I do not expect you to return my affections,” he manages, and he cannot look at Yeong-shin. He must make a tragic figure, he knows, with the candlelight too weak to illuminate his face, and the faint glow from the yard outside barely enough to highlight the lines of his profile.

But he would not have it any other way. If it is, truly, to be the last time he sees Yeong-shin, he would rather have his last memory of Lee Chang like so – as the man, not the king, and with all his barriers down. It is the last gift he can give to the man to whom he owes so much, and to whom he has unequivocally given his heart and soul.

At last, Yeong-shin speaks, and they are words Lee Chang has come to expect.

“I must think on it,” he says, and the emotion in his voice, Lee Chang cannot recognise. “You hold my respect, and where you command, I will gladly go. You are the only one I would so freely pledge my allegiance to.”

“But,” Lee Chang prompts softly, and he hears rather than sees the flush that rises again on Yeong-shin’s face, when next he speaks.

“But,” he repeats, “I have… I have never thought of you as anything more than my lord. I have never dared think of you as anything more. You are the prince – the king now, but you were the prince – and so it has never even crossed my mind to look upon you as something more.”

“You need not give me hope,” Lee Chang says, and he cannot stop a small wistful smile forming on his face. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” Yeong-shin says quietly. He leaves the room, and only then  - only then, does Lee Chang turn around. He burns the sight of Yeong-shin’s broad, upright back into his memory.

And then he looks back out the window, and sighs.

It is a new day, he thinks, as he watches the sun rise. A new day, and he is still alive, and that is all that matters, now.