#also crossdressing scratch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pasteidolons · 14 days

Text

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical innacuarcies for the sake of plot progression word count: 33.5k

taglist: @hipsdofangirl

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦

𝔍𝔞𝔫𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 17𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The cold, gray sky of winter greets you with its hollow breath as you swing the door to your room open, any heat that has accumulated overnight swiftly dissipating as swaths of blustery air invade the space. From the looks of it, thick, gray clouds had begun to accumulate over the city outside the walls of the Hwarang’s compound, forecasting at least a light blanket of snow in the coming hours. You’d have to make sure that the fires from the kitchen aren’t low so that the ondol keeps warm under the building’s floors.

Before you move to exit the room, you reach to grab a jacket from your handful of things, sighing as you catch sight of a piece of paper hidden under your coat. It’s the letter that had brought you here in the first place. Nearly two weeks have passed since your arrival at the Hwarang’s headquarters, the same frigidity that had met you on your first meeting was still ingrained into them, the same distrust, no doubt, but it isn’t as if you can leave.

A frown as you look down at your clothes after shrugging the jacket onto your shoulders. Instead of your father’s clothes that you’d arrived in, they’d given you robes of their own. Not the blues of their commanders or warriors, but the deep green of their lesser ranks; of the pageboys, cooks, and less desirable positions within their numbers. They were and are foreign to you, you’d much rather wear the clothes that feel more familiar, even if they are men’s. But you aren’t meant to raise suspicion, just keep your head low until they find out more information of your father’s whereabouts. A female hiding out in the Hwarang’s headquarters would raise suspicion, start rumors, and with how much they hold themselves to a gold standard, it would be irreparable to their reputation.

Jihoon, the Hwarang’s commander, had given you strict instructions to keep up the facade as a male. Saying that, while it would be harmful to their reputation if the word got out, it would also be a beacon for those looking for your father, or perhaps even you. Only those that you’d met on the first day, as well as a handful of others within their leadership, know of your true identity.

As you move your hands away from the hem of your jacket, your fingers brush against the blade that Jihoon had given back to you the day you’d arrived. It’d been somewhat ceremonial in your household, not a thing of use as there was no need for it. Your father had claimed it to be an heirloom kept in the family since the birth of Silla as a kingdom. You aren’t sure of the validity of that statement though, as the metal isn’t tinged with rust, it looks newly forged at times.

Regardless of the validity of the blade, your father made you take several lessons with your town’s local head guard, who’d only taught a girl because her father was a well-known physician. Also, because your father could treat any injury you sustained while practicing, which wasn’t ever needed as any scrapes or scratches you obtained healed fairly quickly. When you were little you didn’t think much of it. Yet as you grew older you realized that you healed faster than most. Your father said it must’ve been a gift from the Heavens but urged you not to tell anyone about it. And you hadn’t, fearing that those around you would treat you like a witch or a monster if they were to find out.

Swordplay was never something you took much interest in, seeing that you’d probably never put the techniques you’d learned to use. Besides, you aren’t a bloodthirsty fiend looking for a chance to use it anyway, you’d rather help people than hurt them.

You’re pulled from your thoughts for a brief moment as a wang-do, one of the common Hwarang soldiers, passes by your room. They lock eyes with you for a moment, a scowl sneering onto their lips before they break their gaze and continue to stride past. Private rooms were only given to personnel of a higher rank within the Hwarang, and seeing how you are a newcomer, you can somewhat understand the resentment some of them have with your staying not in the typical quarters of those of your rank.

With more guilt than not as you accept the hospitality of the Hwarang, you try to help out as much as you can, despite the wishes of the commander. To the average wang-do, it probably seems as if you’re receiving special treatment from the captains. Despite the actuality of them keeping watch over you to make sure you wouldn’t spew their secrets; it would be confusing, aggravating even, from an outsider’s perspective. But, even if you were allowed free reign of the headquarters, it’s not as if you could speak to any of them, most were nobles from families of high wealth. And your father isn’t poor by any means, but the wealth disparity between the nobles of the capital and nobles of the countryside is nothing to scoff at.

So, you remain alone, for the time being, finding that the best way to not draw attention to yourself is to become practically invisible. Maybe if Jihoon allowed you to go out and search for your father you would find yourself more useful, but he’d just left for Hanseong a few days prior. Seeing as the man in charge of your stay here isn’t available, maybe your best bet would be to stay in your room until something of note happened, despite how aggravatingly boring it is.

The room is practically empty, only a bed, a small chest of drawers and a writing desk to keep you company. It reminds you of when your father would leave for his patient visits, disappearing for days at a time and leaving you alone at home. Although it isn’t the same, those visits had the promise of return. Waiting for someone you knew would come back and waiting for the unknown are vastly different things.

As your reflections manifest into exasperated sighs, you barely notice the sound of approaching footsteps heading towards your room.

“There you are!” Youngmin, the head of the Hwarang, exclaims once he catches sight of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you; I didn’t think you’d be in here!” He beams at you for a moment before stepping into the room with a tray in his hands.

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” you apologize as he sets down the tray onto the writing desk nestled into the corner of the room.

“Ah… wait… This is your room?” He questions as he straightens up, looking around at the interior for a moment.

“It is,” you nod, wondering what he’s thinking about.

“Then I just barged into a woman’s room without even announcing myself!” He looks flustered, his cheeks turning a tinge pink as he realizes his mistake and takes a few steps out of the room.

“It’s alright,” you try to assure him, “After all, it’s not like there’s anything here that I wouldn’t want you to see.”

“Hmm,” he sighs, trying to compose himself, “I thought since we’d assigned you to be Jihoon’s page your room would be next to his…” It seems as if Jihoon had neglected to inform Youngmin that you hadn’t actually been made a page. That isn’t in the least bit surprising with how coldly the commander had been treating you.

“I’m not fully equipped to entertain guests, but you’re welcome to come in if you’d like,” you offer, motioning for him to come back inside the room.

“You don’t need to worry,” he waves his hand as if to brush off the thought, “And, if I may, I’ll take you up on your offer.” Youngmin then steps back into the room, and as if he notices your hesitant demeanor, he speaks up once more, “And please don’t feel nervous around me, as long as you’re here you’re a guest of the Hwarang.”

You offer him a small smile before looking down to the tray he’d carried in. A look of shock comes over your face as you realize what he’d brought, “This is—!”

Youngmin chuckles lightly, “I take it you’re a fan of sweets then? Jihoon’s adoptive mother likes to send them to us every once in a while, and hardly anyone touches them.” Several assorted hangwa lay on the dish, their colors vibrant against the gray gloom of the light shining in from outside, next to a steaming cup of tea. “Go ahead and have some, if you’d like.”

“Thank you very much,” you nod and make your way over to gingerly pick up one of the confections. You look at the pink treat for a moment before taking a bite out of it, savoring the sweetness of it before turning back to Youngmin, “It’s delicious.” Snacks like this were only limited to holidays or festivals back home, it’s shocking to hear that Jihoon’s mother had sent such a thing on a whim.

“I’m glad you like them,” he smiles. Something about Youngmin’s presence holds an aura of warmth, that makes you feel more relaxed than you had been with any other member of the Hwarang since your arrival. “Ah, I’ve also heard you haven’t been able to go outside?”

A nod, “That’s right. But if that’s what’s needed for me to stay here, I wouldn’t want to cause any unnecessary trouble by going out.”

He looks almost sympathetic as he parts his lips once more, “I see… I’m glad you understand. I know that Jihoon can seem a little intimidating at first but he’s a truly caring man.”

To see the man who’d kept you in relative solitude for a few weeks as a caring person didn’t seem fully right… But Youngmin knows him much better than you do.

“He may be a little strict with you, but only because he’s trying to do what’s in your best interest.” Youngmin sighs, a telling sign that maybe he hadn’t agreed with everything Jihoon had done before. “I’ll speak to him once he gets back, I know this must be hellish for you, but I can only ask you to hang in for a bit longer.”

“Alright,” you nod, “Thank you.” Even if Youngmin’s visit hadn’t done much to change your living arrangement, it had lightened your mood ever so slightly.

After Youngmin had departed and you’d been left to sulk in your room for a while, you notice that the sun was slowly sinking into the sky. The clouds of earlier in the day had parted to let the golden light shine onto the headquarters as the sun made its descent into the horizon. It feels as if time itself has stopped, the sun hanging in the same place for an unimaginably long time.

All this time in solitude is doing a number on both your mental and emotional state. Any hope of getting out of your isolation seems to slip with each passing moment you spend alone. You had come to the capital to find your father, not get swept up into a world where your life lay on the line should you slip up and say something you shouldn’t.

Even if they were showing you more hospitality than you could’ve asked for, you know that you can’t trust the Hwarang completely.

“They can’t all be that bad… right?” you mutter to yourself as you sit at the small drawing table, flipping through the letters you’d brought with you.

“Has anyone ever called you ‘gullible’, before?” A voice behind you causing you to jump and turn to see who’d spoken.

Your gaze hardens as you see Boo Seungkwan standing in your doorway, arms crossed with a small frown painted on his lips. “What are you doing here?” Asking as you push yourself to your feet, brushing off your pant legs before facing him fully.

“You didn’t notice me? It’s my turn to keep watch over you,” he sighs, “You talk to yourself a lot, don’t you?”

Had you really been thinking aloud earlier? You bite your lip and try to mentally remind yourself to never do that again as you’d never know who could be listening in on you here. Before you can retort, Hansol steps in from the hallway.

“I think that’s enough picking on her, Seungkwan.” He frowns at the other.

“Did you hear me too?” You question, somewhat embarrassed about how this was playing out.

“I only just arrived,” he shakes his head in the negative. “I came to tell you that dinner is ready but,” Hansol’s eyes narrow ever so slightly at you, noticing how incrementally flustered you’re getting, “have I interrupted something?”

“Nothing at all!” You insist, trying to calm yourself.

“I was going to let the two of you continue to speak, but if I had left you two alone, I knew that he’d probably try and get you out of sorts again,” Hansol notes somewhat stoically, probably thinking to the times where he’d been in the exact same situation. His shoulders shrug before the sound of more approaching footsteps reaches you.

Soonyoung rushes into the room with loud, heavy stomps. His eyes are somewhat frantic, his voice somewhat annoyed as he speaks, “Hey! It’s dinnertime and I’m absolutely starving.”

“Sorry about that, I’ll be there soon,” Hansol apologizes to the younger.

Soonyoung then looks to you, “You too, hurry up or Junhui’s gonna eat all of the food again.”

“Sorry Captain Kwon, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You say as he begins to turn on his heels to leave before stopping himself.

His lips purse together before he looks back at you, “Look… can you drop the ‘Captain Kwon’ thing? Just call me Soonyoung, everyone else here does.”

“Are you sure about that?” You question with an inquisitive tilt of your head.

“Why not? We’re practically the same age, aren’t we? And we don’t need honorifics either, I’m not one of those uptight nobles.” He frowns slightly.

“Alright then… Soonyoung.”

“That’s more like it,” he grins, “Now let’s go.”

The walk to the dining area is more familiar than any other route you’d taken thus far during your stay with the Hwarang. Meals are the only time of day that you really are able to leave your room and have company, even if that company was the other captains of the Hwarang.

“You’re lateee,” a whine from Wen Junhui as he sits in front of his meal, the lids still atop the dishes so as to not let the steam out. “Who’s responsible for this? My stomach’s crying and I think my soup’s already gone cold,” he frowns as everyone finishes filing into the hall.

“You mean ‘growling’,” Soonyoung snickers as he moves to take his seat next to Junhui, you move to sit on the other side of Junhui, next to Mingyu. “Sometimes it’s really easy to tell that you’re not from here.”

“That doesn’t even matter, you should all apologize to my stomach,” the taller’s hands fly to his abdomen as the remaining captains take their seats, “it’s been desperate for food since this morning’s practice routines.”

A small ‘tch’ from Mingyu as he rolls his eyes at the two, “A commoner correcting a noble, I never thought I’d see the day.” There’s a tinge of sarcasm to his voice as he speaks, the tone disappearing as he pipes up once more, “Alright, now that everyone’s here we can eat.”

There’s general chatter amongst the captains as they start to uncover their dishes and begin to dig into their meals. You sit and eat in relative silence until Junhui’s voice begins to raise on your right.

“There’s hardly enough here to feed a kid, let alone a guy like me,” you turn your head and watch his gaze trail down to Soonyoung’s tray to his right, “I guess I’ll have to take yours…” His now empty hands make a grab for the bowl of rice situated atop Soonyoung’s tray. “Survival of the—”

“Survival of the fittest my ass, Junhui,” the other retorts, sticking out his elbow and hitting the other square in the chest. There’s a hollow thud reverberating around Wen’s ribcage, it sounds painful, but he doesn’t look phased at all. But it did stop him from trying to snatch Soonyoung’s meal. “Why’re you always stealing my food?”

Junhui laughs, you hear Mingyu also let out a small chuckle to your left. “It’s because of the size difference, Soonyoung. I’ve got the bigger body; therefore I need more food.”

“No way, I’ve gotta eat too!” Soonyoung protests, his elbow still locked in place trying to hold the other back.

“You’d think they’d be more civil around a woman,” Mingyu, at the tailend of his laughter, notes about the two, “but they’re always like this.”

“I think I’ve gotten used to it by now,” you respond, setting down the cup of tea you’d been drinking before looking at Hansol, who’s gaze seems to have drifted across the room to the bickering pair.

“How we’ve managed so long without them killing one another is beyond me,” he says before eating a spoonful of the soup in front of him. “Are you not eating?” Hansol questions Seungkwan, who sits next to him. The latter sits reclined back in his seat, seemingly watching the entertainment in front of him instead of touching his food.

“I’m alright. If I eat too much in one sitting I get slow.” He nods, reaching for his cup.

“What do you mean ‘slow’?” Junhui pokes, gaze shifting from Soonyoung to Seungkwan for a moment and then down to the food on the older’s plates. “But if you’re not going to eat…”

“Go for it,” Seungkwan scoots the tray forward with his elbow, passing it over to Junhui as his hand is still occupied with his cup. “As long as I’ve got makgeolli, I’m alright.”

“Sounds like I’m going with makgeolli too,” Mingyu sighs and passes a few plates from his tray onto yours after noticing that most of your food was already eaten.

“You don’t have to—” you begin to protest before Seungkwan speaks up again.

“Don’t worry about eating too much or being a freeloader,” he says, a weird bubbling of guilt arising in your stomach.

“I understand but I can’t help but feel a little bad…” You state as you look down to the newly acquired plates in front of you.

“If you’re going to let that get to you, you’re never going to get anything you want,” Hansol says pointedly, continuing to eat the mix of soup in front of him.

“A- alright,” you nod, picking up your utensils again and beginning to pick at the newfound food on your tray. Because you never had much contact with others during the daytime, it makes having dinner with the captains something of an entertaining and frightening experience every night. But it’s fun. A small smile curls onto your lips at the thought of some normalcy for a moment when you hear Mingyu speak again.

“You know we’re not going to hurt you, right?” He’d seen your smile, probably seeing it as you begin to relax, and he seeks to soothe your anxieties about them even more so. His own lips have a soft smile of their own, an honesty brimming with it. Maybe they’d all been trying to put you at ease with their antics.

It was troublesome to navigate, you have conflicted feelings about staying with them and taking up their time and resources, but it isn’t as if you have much of a choice. They seemed to realize that too and instead of scorning you for it, were trying to make the best of it.

But before you could ponder on the notion for much longer, Song Eunseok enters the room.

“Captains?” He asks somewhat quietly, but the noise of his arrival had turned all heads towards him. “Do you have a moment?” Voice soft as usual, his eyes teem with a quiet anxiety that you hadn’t ever seen during your brief acquaintance with him. The gaiety that had once erupted in the room comes to a fizz as he begins to speak once more, “I’ve just gotten a letter from Sabi, Seungcheol’s been gravely injured during a skirmish.”

Your brows raise as Seungkwan shouts out, “What the hell happened?!”

“A group of Baekje revivalists were laying siege to the chancellor’s home, Seungcheol and Jihoon arrived in time to subdue them, however, Seungcheol was injured at some point during the fight.”

“Is he going to be alright?” You ask, your hands clenching together, nails digging into the skin.

“According to Jihoon's letter he is gravely hurt, but the wound is on his left arm.” Eunseok’s teeth gnaw at the insides of his cheek for a moment, “It will be hard for him to draw an arrow or wield a blade but it’s almost certain that he will survive this.”

“That’s good,” a sigh of relief leaving you, but the air lies tense from the other captains as they await more answers regarding their comrade’s status.

“Seungcheol should be returning in a few days,” Eunseok nods, a solemn tone to his voice, “I’ll go and talk with Kwak some more regarding the situation, if anything else arises I’ll let you know.” He was already halfway out the door by the time he finished speaking, talking over his shoulder in a bated anxiety to rival that of the rest of the room.

“An injury so bad he can’t hold a bow or sword?” Hansol almost thinks aloud, “He may have severed an artery. He may never carry a blade again if that’s true…” You now begin to understand the severity of the situation, why the air grew heavy and the voices grew low. “If he were to fight one handed against an opponent of similar skill he would almost certainly lose.”

“... If push comes to shove he’ll have to take it. Seungcheol’s not just going to give up like that,” Seungkwan frowns, the cup in his hand settling down onto the table in front of him with a small clink before his hands fall into his lap.

“Don’t say that, Boo,” Junhui’s face mirrors an equal grimace to that of the elder’s. “It’ll look bad if captains start joining the Furies.”

“... Who?” You question, trying to follow their conversation as best you could but finding yourself lost as they begin to speak of things unknown to you. “The Furies?”

“Furies,” Soonyoung begins, “They come from something you drink where any injury can be cur—”

“Soonyoung!” Before you know it, Mingyu is on his feet and striding around you to the young captain. The elder captain’s hand reaches down and pulls up the younger by the front of his robes.

“Ah—” Soonyoung’s voice catches in his throat, his eyes go wide as if he’s realized he’d said something that he shouldn’t have.

“You’re overreacting, Kim.” Junhui stands, trying to pry Mingyu’s irontight grasp away from Soonyoung. “It’s my fault anyway, I said something first.” When Mingyu relinquishes Soonyoung’s green robes from his grip, Junhui shoots the younger a sympathetic look, “Sorry.”

“I should’ve watched myself,” Soonyoung sighs, his hands moving to straighten his now wrinkled garment.

Junhui’s gaze then turns to you, his tone becoming sterner, “Everything you just heard is something you should never repeat. I know you’re probably curious, but we can’t say anything else about it, so don’t ask.” The cold weight hiding behind his eyes is enough to make you feel uneasy about what you’d just heard. You’re not even sure what they were talking about, but it seems important enough to stay a secret.

“Those Furies that Soonyoung was talking about are pitiful men,” Seungkwan states as he pushes himself to his feet. His voice held none of the snideness that it normally had, taking on a flatter and emotionless tone. A sate sort of melancholy coming over him, it’s clear he has something on his mind.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” Junhui says to you as he breaks the silence, “So don’t try and get worked up about it.”

Seeing as you were only a guest of the Hwarang and not an actual member among their ranks, you can understand their secrets. But it doesn’t make you any less curious.

“Try your best to forget about it,” Hansol warns, not so much to you but to your circumstance, “The more involved you become with our affairs will only put you in more danger.”

The wall built up between you and the captains was almost tangible at this point, not an easy thing to scale or break through.

Dinner ended in relative silence, you excused yourself to your room and hurried back to collect your thoughts. You exhale a large sigh as you enter, your mind hopping from the fate of the Hwarang’s colonel to what the Furies were. It reminds you of the rakshasa from the Buddhist texts your father had made you read as a young girl. The phrases ‘something you drink’ and ‘becoming a Fury’ bounce around your skull before you stop yourself. Hansol had asked you to forget, but it feels as if him saying that only makes you want to remember.

For whatever reason, the Hwarang captains were keeping hush about whatever ordeal was occurring. Was it to protect you? Regardless, sticking your nose into their business would only be detrimental to your stay with them.

With that in mind you try to clear your head as best you can before slipping into bed and trying to drift off to sleep.

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥 3𝔯𝔡, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It’s been a little over two months since you’d joined the Hwarang at the headquarters in Seorabeol. Jihoon and Seungcheol had returned from their expedition to Sabi, but morale among the men was low. For a while after their return, due to Seungcheol’s injury, a few operations within the organization became hectic due to his absence. The wounds he’d acquired were grim, draining most of the goodness in his nature before your very eyes. He’d spend days locked away in his room, the silence deafening to those who would venture in and try to speak to him.

On the rare occasion that he did leave his room, his temper lay short before he’d barricade himself away in his abode once more. The Hwarang had offered to let him return to his family for recovery’s sake, but he insisted that his duty remain with his compatriots, despite his abysmal attitude.

Even though you too were holed up away inside of your room, the ways in which the two of you coped with the ordeal were vastly different. Seungcheol was trapped within himself, fallen from whatever pedestal he thought was his to a mere memory of what once was. You, on the other hand, were merely looking for ways to help your hosts.

In doing so, you now find yourself wandering the halls of the Hwarang’s main building looking for Lee Jihoon, who hopefully has an assignment for you to complete. Much in fashion for the commander, he was nowhere to be seen. You debate on whether it would be impolite to go to his room directly when an unknown soldier walks up to you.

Their face is unfamiliar to you and they aren’t wearing the blue robes associated with the Hwarang on patrol. There is a chance you’d never seen them before, but by the way they are looking at you, you can surmise that that isn’t the case.

“You… wouldn’t have happened to have seen Commander Lee… would you?” You ask as they approach, their gait long and almost prideful.

“And who are you?” They question, looking you over with scathing eyes as if to detect your character, “Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

“Oh well… it’s a long story,” you mumble out, noticing their gaze sharpening on you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself!” Their voice raises, the sternness only growing, “Answer me!”

Fumbling out your words, you introduce yourself quickly.

“Hmm,” he ponders, gaze softening ever so slightly, “I heard that the Commander recently acquired an apprentice warrior as a new page, it must be you.”

“I am,” you respond with faux cocksureness, not realizing that the men had referred to you as an apprentice warrior under the Hwarang.

“Why don’t you enlighten me on how you came to know the Chief and Commander?” The man’s scrutinizing gaze continues as you straighten your posture, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I heard you’re from Toehwa-hyeon, but how were you able to squeeze your way in here?”

“I didn’t ‘squeeze my way in here’,” you retort, not liking how this man was addressing you.

“Judging by how defensive you’re being, it sounds as if I’ve gotten it right.” He almost scoffs at you in disbelief, “This isn’t some place for a common boy without any worth in his duties or on the battlefield to walk in without earning it. I’ll ask you one last time: how did you come to know the Chief and Commander?”

You stay silent, unsure of how to address him or what answer would be the right one. Yet, before you can begin to formulate a response, he steps forward and grabs the sleeve of your robes, “I, Suh Kangjoon, am asking you a question.” With the way he states his own name, it’s as if he’s trying to signal himself as someone of importance, but you’d never heard the other captains speak of him before. “What makes you think you can ignore me?” Rather than have a calm air as he asked, his tone had almost shifted to that of a petulant child.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice barks off to the side, coming from one of the hall’s entranceways. Both Kangjoon and you turn to see Jihoon standing in the doorway, an almost scowl painting his lips as he watches the scene before him. Once Kangjoon had realized it was him, his hand falls away from clutching at your robes and returns to his side.

“Very well, Commander,” he wets his lips as Jihoon approaches before clearing his throat and speaking once again. “I’m here on business with Gukseon Kwak.”

“Is that right?” Jihoon’s voice is tipped with a poisonous edge, as if he didn’t fully trust the character in front of you. “He failed to mention that to me.”

“He wrote to me with special orders to aid him while Colonel Choi is out of commission,” he begins, “I have the letter if you’d like to read it.”

“That’s quite alright,” Jihoon waves him off, “but I think it’d be in your interest to know that Kwak is out on training runs with Kwon’s squadron today.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to come back at a later date,” the air of faux civility between the two was nearly palpable, Jihoon doing nothing to hide his distaste whereas Kangjoon only looked at him snidely. The newcomer begins to turn on his heels, heading for the exit before his pace slows and leaves the two of you with a few words, “Is it true that you’ve welcomed him as your page, Commander?”

“Yes,” Jihoon nods, glancing at you for a moment before returning to look at the other, “but it’s no concern to you.”

A flash of an uncaring smile, “Forgive me, then. I’ll try not to ask more as it seems to be out of my jurisdiction.” Another step before he stills, “I do, however, question your predisposition toward keeping those from higher ranks close to you,” his eyes widen in faux surprise, “Ah, it seems I’ve forgotten myself, please excuse me.”

Once the stranger has exited the building, only then do you feel a sigh of relief overcome you. But before you have the chance to dwell on it for too long, Jihoon speaks up.

“You shouldn’t be walking around the headquarters without my permission, you know.”

“I understand, Commander, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” you begin to apologize.

“Your presence here isn’t known by the other factions of the Hwarang, only those staying here at Shoshin,” He explains, “be mindful of anyone that isn’t a Hwarang from this sect, understood?”

“Understood,” you nod. “But, can I ask who that man was?”

“That man is a captain of the Hanseong Hwarang. His name is Suh Kangjoon.” Jihoon looks as if he’s wracking his brain for an adequate description of the man, “His archery and swordsmanship are decent, but he’s well read and has a knack for military tactics.” His voice lowers a bit for his next statement. “He’s cunning, so be careful.”

“Okay.”

“Regardless of that,” his voice back to a decent volume as his gaze hardens at you, “if you’re not attending to someone then I fully expect you to stay put in your room.” With that, you suppose, he meant to dismiss you back to your quarters as any strict commander should and would have done. Yet, you still have something to ask of him.

“I actually wanted to ask you something, Commander,” you start, trying your best to look him in the eye instead of anywhere else, “Staying in my room alone for so long makes me feel utterly useless. Is there anything I can do around the compound to make me feel less-than-adequate while I stay here?”

“You truly can’t find something productive to do in your room?” Almost as if the sincerity of your prior statement was beginning to make him think, his harsh gaze softens just a bit.

“Not at all,” you shake your head.

A sigh, “Very well, then. I’ll talk with the other captains about it, so, until then just be on standby.” His arms cross, his gaze once again turning stern, “This is under the condition that you are to keep yourself from interacting with anyone that is not a Hwarang of Shoshin Temple, alright?”

“Of course,” you can’t help a small smile curling onto your lips, “But… thank you.”

The two of you part not long after that, and you find the next day via Eunseok that you’re allowed to freely roam the compound now. Albeit you have a few tasks to help out with; cleaning, laundry, and cooking. It isn’t a glamorous job but it is something you’re accustomed to.

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 15𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The air thick with a humidity sweeping in from the coast, the entirety of the Kingdom of Silla lies in mourning after the death of the posthumously named King Taejong Muyeol. With the lauded last year's effort of him uniting both Silla and Baekje, the former kingdom to the west of Silla, hanging over the heads of every citizen, his death felt like a sharp blow to all. For the first few days of the month, the Hwarang had traveled to Banweolseong, the King’s palace, to pay their respects to the fallen monarch, leaving you alone with only Eunseok as company.

Once the Hwarang had steadily returned to the compounds, an air of normalcy once again began to hang over the inhabitants and the buildings themselves. Yet, midway through the month, Emperor Gaozong of the Tang dynasty called in aid from Silla to attack the kingdom of Gogoryeo. The kingdom resides to the north, and the Tang emperor wished to pincer it from both sides so that it would fall under either Tang or Silla rule.

Whereas this may have been the wishes of Taejong Muyeol, the new king, Munmu, found issue in sending out an army so close to the prior monarch’s death. Yet, as an almost tributary state to the Tang, Silla was forced to comply by sending soldiers to the front. No members of the Hwarang were called, as they were to remain in their cities and keep patrol when the officers that normally stood guard could not.

It’s a cooler day of the beginning of summer, you’d just come back to your room with your laundry when Hansol appears at your door. He stands there for a moment, allowing you to put down the basket of clothes in your hands before speaking, “Commander Lee would like a word with you.”

A wordless nod and you begin to follow after him. Hansol leads you to the main hall, only stopping at the entranceway and gesturing you inside, you step into the room and hear Hansol go in behind you, closing the door after he enters. Looking around, you spot Jihoon, Seungkwan, Mingyu, Junhui and Soonyoung standing around the hall. It seems as if only the captains and you had been summoned for this meeting.

“I know you’ve been waiting for this, but the time has come to finally let you out,” Jihoon says once everyone’s settled into a comfortable silence.

Your lips part and you can barely contain the gasp forming in the back of your throat, “Really?” Unable to contain your excitement, you try to compose yourself before speaking again. “So, there really was someone who saw my father in Hwango-dong?” You question, only hearing rumors of someone who’d seen a man with your father’s profile in one of the city’s districts.

“We’re not sure if it’s true or not,” Jihoon cedes as he nods his head, “It’s our intention to let you verify for us. Considering that you’d recognize him the best out of everyone here.”

“So, where is this man who said he saw him?”

“The initial report outlines Jeolin Inn in Hwango-dong, Hansol’s assigned to do a preliminary check.” Both your and his attention turn to the man Jihoon had named. Did this mean that you were to accompany him to check or were you to wait here until after he’d swept the area?

“That doesn’t mean that Heo is a guest of the inn though,” Kim chimes in.

“Yeah,” Junhui agrees, “Being sighted in Hwango-dong could just mean he was walking around Seorabeol.”

“Exactly,” Jihoon sighs, crossing his arms and looking at Soonyoung, Junhui and Mingyu, “That’s why I’m asking the three of you to take her out on your rounds to assist her in her search.”

“All of us?” Soonyoung’s head tilts in confusion, “We normally split up and go our separate ways on our rounds.”

Rather than entertaining Soonyoung with a response, Jihoon looks back to you. It was a quiet way to say that they were still in charge of looking over you, needing to make sure you wouldn’t try and make a break for it should they take you out in search for your father.

“We get what you’re trying to say, Jihoon,” Seungkwan notes, “but I don’t like that you’re making us do all of the babysitting. I thought you were planning on patrolling as well?” The teasing lilt to his voice returns, “So, for your benefit why don’t you show your adorable page the ropes by taking her out with you?”

“Aren’t you the one who pushed her onto me?” Jihoon scoffs, “I’m not taking any of your shit today, Boo. She isn’t my page.”

“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t, but a lot of the wang-do are beginning to believe it.” Seungkwan notes, crossing his own arms. “There’s always a grain of truth in every lie, so why don’t you give her a job already?”

As the two continue their stalemating conversation, Mingyu moves to your side and whispers something to you, “Seorabeol isn’t the safest place right now, as you know, so you don’t have to force yourself to leave. I mean we all know what your dad looks like, so it’s not just your risk alone to bear.”

It seems like you could either explore where your father had last been seen, patrol the surrounding area, accompany Jihoon as his page, or stay here, from what Mingyu had suggested.

“Then let me be your page, Jihoon,” you say as Mingyu backs away from your side.

The commander looks at you, something of a distressed light in his eyes, “What?” His voice trembles irately as if the thought of you accompanying him troubles him.

“I mean, walking around town with you may help with getting leads to find my father, right?” You suggest, adding on seconds later, “And if the wang-do are questioning my place, wouldn’t it be in our best interest for me to act like your page? It might convince them.”

Jihoon’s expression sours at your words, “There’s no need to take Seungkwan’s words at face value you know, he likes to mess around and have fun with his wor—”

“Now aren’t you happy to have a cute little page?” Seungkwan smirks as Jihoon stares at him bitterly for cutting him off.

“Very well,” Jihoon frowns and looks back to you, “you better make sure you stay out of my way though.”

After nearly five months since your arrival at the Hwarang headquarters, you’re finally able to leave it. The world has changed, green leaves and flowering blooms greeting you as you and Jihoon make your way through the streets of the city. It was more alive than you had left it earlier in the year.

“I don’t know how it ended up this way,” Jihoon grumbles to himself as the two of you walk through the crowds of Seorabeol. “But I can’t not keep my word…” He keeps himself a few paces in front of you, his mood and tone keeping you somewhat on edge. His attitude had the ability to dictate your own inner thoughts, to question if it really was your place to be here with him.

As the two of you pass by what looks to be a tea shop, you hear a voice call out to Jihoon.

“Commander!” A man looking similar in age to you shouts and makes his way over. He doesn’t wear the blue robes that Jihoon had donned in order to patrol the streets, but with the way he was received, it seems like he was a friend. “I have a report that needs to be disclosed as soon as possible.” But if he had called Jihoon ‘Commander’, wouldn’t he still have to be a part of the Hwarang?

The man steps forward and whispers something into Jihoon’s ear. Jihoon’s eyes widen and then his face goes blank before he turns to you, “I have an urgent matter to attend to.” He looks to the shop you’d stopped in front of, “I’m entrusting you to stay here and ask about Heo.”

“You want me to stay here alone…?” You question, glancing at the shop, “Would that be alright with you?”

Jihoon stares at you for a moment as if he’s trying to decipher any of your hidden thoughts, “Did you plan on accompanying me just so you could run away?” The pit of your stomach drops at his words.

“Of course not!” You defend yourself.

“Then don’t bother me with asinine questions,” he sighs, “Do what I told you and wait here for me to come back, okay?”

“Okay.”

And just like that, Jihoon and the newcomer race down the street away from you. Your eyes once again travel to the tea shop, a sigh escapes you before you head inside. The heavy smell of tea rises from every corner of the room, several patrons sit at small tables discussing various topics as you enter. But you aren’t there for that. So, you make your way over to the shopkeeper and inquire about your father.

Asking him had given you no leads, nor had asking any of the customers coming in or leaving the shop over the course of the next hour. It seemed as if no one knew about your father’s whereabouts. You now sit at a table in the shop, the tea in front of you becoming cold as fragments of leaves swirl around the small cup.

“The Hwarang are here to conduct a search!” A familiar voice booms at the entrance of the shop, “Everyone, remain calm. Who’s the shopkeeper here?” The last you’d seen this man, he hadn’t been wearing the blues of the Hwarang. It is Suh Kangjoon, one of the captains of the Hwarang’s Hanseong unit, what was he doing here?

“I’m the owner here,” the frail voice of the elderly man who you’d questioned earlier speaks up, “What is the meaning of your visit?”

A small ‘tch’ before Kangjoon continues, “I shouldn’t even have to explain myself… It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve allowed Baekje revivalists to conduct their business within this shop.” His voice forceful, unabiding, “What exactly are you plotting? If you don’t answer me, I’ll be forced to take you to headquarters where you will be questioned.”

“That’s absurd!” The shopkeeper exclaims, “I would never allow that here.”

“Oh? Then are you questioning the credibility of the Hwarang?” Kangjoon frowns, his eyes narrowing at the elderly man.

“Of course I’m not,” sweat begins to glisten on the elderly man’s brow, seemingly terrified at the respect that Kangjoon was asking from him. Kangjoon then scans the store, looking at the patrons, you manage to look away before he has the chance to recognize you.

“It’s in our best interest to let local shops run unimpeded,” Kangjoon says, his attention returning to the shopkeeper. “So, depending on how well you… cooperate with us, perhaps I could make this little disturbance disappear.”

“Are you implying…” The shopkeeper's voice dies down before he finishes the thought.

“I’m only suggesting that it would be beneficial to you to share some of your… goodwill.” A coy smile etches itself onto Kangjoon’s lips. Although it isn’t explicitly said, it’s clear that he is soliciting a bribe.

“I— I can’t afford something like that,” the shopkeep cries out, “There isn’t even anything suspicious happening here!”

“Hmm?” Kangjoon says, “You’re refusing to help the Hwarang? We’re the protectors of Silla, you know.”

“I would never do such a thing!”

“If you refuse to cooperate then I’ll have to take you back to headquarters,” Kangjoon’s voice grows even more stern, “You must be a Baekje sympathizer.”

“N- No, I’m not!” The man protests.

The whole conversation makes you feel sick to your stomach, you’re about to speak out when someone puts their hand on your shoulder, rendering you unable to move from your seat.

“Shh,” they say, their voice rather soft and melodic in your ear as they continue, “Someone like you shouldn’t get involved in such a dangerous situation. He won’t hesitate to cut down anyone in his way.” By the way he looks, you could think him to be some sort of stage actor, but with the sword hanging by his side you know he isn’t as such. “Just leave this to me.” The softness of his voice calms you, and you sit back down in your seat before watching him proceed.

“Can I ask something?” The stranger says as he walks towards Kangjoon and the shopkeeper, his eyes trained on the malefactor. “You’re with the Hwarang, right?”

Kangjoon turns, obviously surprised that someone would interrupt him in this situation.

“I am, why does that matter to you?” He questions with a sneer.

“The owner of this tea shop has clearly stated he isn’t allowing any Baekje revivalists to meet here,” the stranger says calmly. “So, with what charges were you going to place on him to allow you to question him at your headquarters?”

“How dare you question me like this,” Kangjoon frowns, “You must be one of those revivalists, right? I should’ve known you’d turn up.”

“Just because I question you, I’m an enemy?” The man sighs out, “I suppose a fair investigation is out of the question.”

“You are preventing me from delivering the Crown’s justice, which is enough proof for me,” Kangjoon nods.

“Very well, then,” The man nods, “If things are going to escalate, would you mind heading outside? I wouldn’t want to upset anyone here.”

“You sound afraid of getting your pretty little face bloodied up,” Kangjoon scoffs, “Not surprising.”

Kangjoon then puffs up his chest following the other man outside the store to challenge him to a fight. You quickly follow the pair and watch the scene unfold. Kangjoon’s smirk remains on his face as the two meet each other. He begins to reach for his blade to threaten the newcomer, assuming an offensive stance.

Yet, before he can pull the blade from its sheath, the other man moves to cover the scabbard’s mouth.

“Let go! Or else—” Kangjoon shouts before the other begins to speak.

“You weren’t really going to draw your sword, were you?” The man questions with a small smile and tilt of his head. “If you were, then things between us may get serious, and I’m not sure you’re ready for that.” The duality of the man is easy to see: one side a soft spoken and gentle face; the other is clearly a fighter.

Suh Kangjoon must feel this duality, because after the man says his piece, he makes no move to draw his blade. A crowd had begun to form around the two men, curious as to what the incident was and what would happen.

“It seems as if we’re drawing in a crowd,” the man notes. “Are you still planning on fighting?”

“I never forget a face,” Kangjoon huffs and angrily shakes off the man’s hand. “I will make you live to regret this day.” His face flush with an unholy fury, he spins on his heels and disappears into the crowds of the street.

The tension from the moments prior dissipates, the crowd surrounding the pair is beginning to dissolve as well. You breathe a sigh of relief as things haven't come to a bloodied fight.

“That could’ve been ugly,” the man notes, turning his head from watching his opponent saunter off towards you, “Let’s go inside and check on the shopkeeper.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, there hadn’t been a fight but you’re not sure you could’ve stood up to Kangjoon in that way.

“Yes,” he nods, “that was nothing.”

“Why were you willing to risk your life like that against him? You didn’t have to stop me.”

A slight pink tinges his cheeks as he answers timidly, “To be honest, you reminded me of someone from a long time ago.”

“Me?” Perplexion in your voice as the comment settles strangely inside you.

“Yes,” he nods, a small smile on his lips, “you even get flustered like them.” He studies your face for a moment, noting a few things that must be similar to the person he knew. Even if that is somewhat flattering, you still have no idea who this man is.

“You must’ve mistaken me for someone else,” You bow slightly, and he looks a little taken aback.

“My apologies, then,” he chuckles, “It seems as if I’m simply mistaken.” He glances towards the shop entrance, “Let’s go back inside, I’m sure your tea and snacks are ruined by now.” His demeanor is overtly gentle, nearly impossible to resist as he draws you back into the shop.

Upon entering the store, the owner smiles and brings the two of you freshly brewed tea. And once seated back down at your table, you realize there are an assortment of treats waiting for you that hadn’t been there prior.

“You didn’t have to do this—” the man says to the shopkeeper.

“Please don’t worry about it,” the elderly man smiles, setting the pot down atop your table as the younger man takes a seat across from you. “You saved me and my shop today, it’s the least I can do.”

“It was nothing,” the man says shyly, “I didn’t do anything to deserve such kindness. But thank you, I love sweets.”

“Don’t be shy and have as much as you want,” the owner seems to bow after every sentence, returning to the counter after he’d finished to attend to his other customers.

“Would you like some?” The man asks and offers out the plate of snacks to you.

“I think the owner means for you to eat all of this,” you note, you’d feel guilty if you’d indulged in the treats.

“If you say so,” the man says, setting down the plate and picking up one of the tteok. A smile overcomes him as he enjoys the treat, you’re not sure if you’d ever seen a warrior smile this much. Yet, with every bite he grins like a small child, almost as if he were the happiest man alive. By now you assume it’s safe to surmise that you were close in age with the way he is conducting himself.

“I suppose it’s time for me to pay my tab,” the man says once he’s finished his tea and a few of the snacks from the plate. He moves to stand, saying something to you as he does, “I’ll be leaving now. Please be careful and try your best to avoid trouble, okay?”

He leaves before you have the chance to respond, drifting from the store like a ghost after he’d finished paying his bill. The man had given you little to no time to thank him for his actions earlier, so you stand from your table and rush outside to try and find him.

“Wait!” You call out to him as you race through the exit.

He’d stopped in his tracks when he’d heard you shout after him, turning on his heels to face you, “Is something wrong?”

“Thank you for earlier,” you bow down, “You probably saved my life.”

He chuckles almost humbly as you stand back up, “I really didn’t do anything to warrant this much of a thanks.” His gaze wanders from you to look down the street, “Although it does seem like the Hwarang are losing their grip on some of their members… If today’s incident was any indication of that, I can’t blame people for losing trust in them.”

“Ah,” you frown, wondering how much people like Kangjoon were responsible for that distrust. “Kangjoon is a cruel man, I don’t think most of the Hwarang would ever treat someone like that. Even if someone’s born a noble, or even joins the Hwarang, it doesn’t automatically make them a good person.”

“I know,” he looks back at you and nods solemnly, “I don’t think that he represents what the Hwarang stands for at all.” The man continues to look at you for a moment, searching your eyes as if they held a key to something. It looks as if he has something to say, but before he lets it slip past his lips he turns back to the street, he calls out your name before speaking once again, “I guess I’ll be on my way.”

Your eyes widen as he begins to walk. How did he know your name? The man turns his back fully to you and begins to walk away, disappearing in the thicket of people on the street. You don’t have much time to question who that man was and why he seems to know you before you see Jihoon in the distance, stalking towards the tea shop.

“Sorry for making you wait so long,” the commander frowns, looking towards the shop as he stops in front of you, “Did you find out any information about your father?”

You shake your head at him, a small frown coating your lips, “Nothing.”

“I see,” he sighs, “It’s not like people around here are very prone to talking, either. Don’t let that get you down.”

As the sun begins to make its descent into the sky, the two of you begin to walk back to the Hwarang’s headquarters. You begin to fill him in on what had happened at the tea shop, a scowl forming as he mulls over what you say.

“Kangjoon did what?” It was a palpable rage exuding from him, but not to the extent he needed to lash out at someone. “Don’t tell anyone about what happened today, not even the captains. Alright?” You nod as he continues, “It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but never let your guard down, especially around people you don’t know. The Hwarang has to protect its secrets, sometimes even from its own members. Especially from that idiot.” Sensing that he was talking about Kangjoon, you nod once again.

After that he continues to prod more questions from you about the events earlier in the day. “You mentioned that a soldier, or someone like that, came to your aid in the tea shop. Do you know anything about him?”

Eyes widening as you realize, “I didn’t even ask him his name…”

“How the hell am I supposed to thank him now?” Jihoon sighs out frustratedly.

“It all happened so fast I barely had time to catch my own breath,” you try to explain, mentally scolding yourself for your carelessness.

“I… that’s understandable. If you happen to cross paths again, ask for his name.” He mutters something out under his breath, “Despite that, I’m sorry we didn’t get any relevant information about your father today. Hopefully either Captain Choi or Wen found something of note.”

Upon returning to the compound, it was relayed to you that the sighting of your father at the Inn had been false. It pierced you as the sliver of hope you had of finding your father soon slipped quickly and quietly from your grasp.

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 7𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Kwon Soonyoung and Boo Seungkwan stand in the great hall as you enter. The past few weeks had given you no information on the whereabouts of your father, despite you going on patrol rounds with the different Hwarang captains. You assume the information, or lack of, was the reason for your summoning today by Lee Jihoon. Although the presence of the other two Hwarang captains makes you feel somewhat more relieved that you wouldn’t have to face the demon commander alone.

“You asked to see me?” There’s a sour look on Jihoon’s face as you ask, something clearly eating away at him.

“It’s about your father,” he begins, and you perk up for a moment. Jihoon’s frown stays on his face as he looks at you, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you can already tell you won’t like what he says. “I think it’s best we stop searching for him for the time being.”

“Why?” You can hardly stop yourself from blurting out the question. You’d only been able to search for him for what felt like a handful of weeks, if you were to stop now there was a major possibility you could lose any leads you have.

Jihoon remains collected, his arms crossing as he speaks again, “We have reports of activity from Baekje loyalists. It would be more than foolish to let you wander the streets in search of your father at a time like this.”

You recall your encounter a month ago with Kangjoon at the tea shop. He’d been in search of Baekje spies… was the issue really becoming that bad? It was surely one thing to lose one’s homeland, but Silla had been nothing but civil to the former kingdom’s people, or so you’d heard.

“Then, are you asking me to stay here until things are resolved with the loyalists?” You question with a tilt of your head, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.

The commander nods before turning to Soonyoung and Seungkwan, “That being said, as for now she isn’t to accompany any captain on their rounds.”

“So that’s why you pulled us in here?” The question is more like a musing as it falls from Soonyoung. It seems like he too hadn’t known why he was called here, and it was now beginning to click. “You know, she’s never caused any issues when we took her on our rounds… It feels kind of bad now that she can’t tag along.”

“Mhm,” Seungkwan nods, “even if something were to happen, as long as she’s not hopping into the fray it should be alright. Besides,” he smirks at you, “it’s not like she could outrun us if she tries to escape.”

“I won’t run,” you protest firmly, knowing that he was fully joking. Eyes lingering on Seungkwan for a moment before you look back to Jihoon, “I made a promise when I agreed to stay here. I promised I’d look for my father, I can’t hold myself to that if you won’t let me.”

“Staying with us is putting yourself at risk,” Seungkwan shrugs in your periphery, “if you don’t mind that, I don’t mind you joining us.” His gaze travels to Jihoon, his lips parting, “We’ve had witness reports, I don’t see why we should stop looking when we still have information coming in.”

“You might have a point, Boo. But are witness reports a justifiable reason to put her in harm’s way?” The commander rebukes, his hands falling to his sides. “By taking her out with us, we’re placing an unnecessary burden on our shoulders.”

“If I lose the opportunity to search for my father,” fists clenching at your sides, your nails digging into the skin of your palms, “then any future chances of finding him will be nearly impossible.”

Jihoon looks at you, eyes searching yours, his gaze hardening. You think he’s about to refute you before he starts speaking again. “You need to follow the orders of every captain you’re on patrol with. No sidetracking them. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you nod, “of course.” Unsure of how to show your gratitude, you bow towards him.

“I’m not going to be the one ordering you to join them,” the commander huffs as you rise, “that’s up to your discretion.”

By the way that the commander spoke, it seems as if he doesn’t want you to leave the compound for whatever reason. You’re unsure what’s caused the full shift in his attitude towards you accompanying the men out on patrol, but for now it’s probably your best bet to stay within the compound for the time being.

After a few quiet goodbyes, you return to your room. Jihoon’s words of caution reside in your eardrums, you know they’d plague you should you have chosen to go out with either Soonyoung or Seungkwan. So, until that beast of guilt renders itself immobile, you’ll hole yourself up in the headquarters. Staying inside doesn’t make you happy, it reminds you of the first few weeks you’d spent here. Alone and outcast in a world of unfamiliar faces.

Yet, unlike a few months ago, you now had free roam of the buildings and grounds. Now you find yourself exiting your room, heading towards one of the courtyards littered around the headquarters’ interior. A soft, summer breeze drifts through the almost-gardens as you enter. The sickly-sweet smell of the decaying flowers from the spring hitting your nose.

You sit in the courtyard for a while, the soft gusts of wind eventually dying down and forcing you to take the heat of the sun in all its glory. A sheen of sweat coats your brow as you look towards the white clouds in the sky that refuse to block out the sun.

With little to think about in your ponderance, your thoughts shift from the now blistering heat to your father. You hadn’t thought about it much since your arrival, but the Hwarang had heard of him. Had they been patients of his? Or perhaps he was talking of diseases and how to prevent them the best they could…

The more you think on the subject, the more a pinpoint of a headache begins to grow. You know that the Hwarang have enough secrets without the aid of your father, but you’re not doubtful that your father may be the cause of some of them.

“Did they really leave you alone out here?” You jump at the voice behind you, too lost in thought to hear light footsteps approach.

“Ah,” spinning on your heels, you're met face-to-face with the Hwarang’s colonel. “Seungcheol… is it okay for you to be out here?” Your gaze drops to his bandaged arm, still not yet healed from his wound earlier in the year.

“It’s not like I need to be bedridden,” he chuckles, gently raising his arm as if to show you it had some movement left within it. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” There was a slight bitterness to his words, almost as if he’d taken a bit of an unripe pear and the taste still lingered on his tongue. “Although I suppose my right hand is…”

A sad and twisted smile curls onto his lips as he looks down to his still injured hand. It hadn’t healed, and by now he was probably realizing that it probably never would. You recall the other captain’s concern when the news had arrived of Seungcheol’s injury, noting that he’d probably never be able to wield a weapon again.

“And what are you doing out here?” He questions, the bitterness from his voice gone, “I hadn’t realized you were allowed out of your room.”

Typically, no one batted an eye nowadays if you were walking around the compound. Yet with the heightened tensions in Seorabeol, you suppose being in your room would put more of the Hwarang at ease. The freedom they’d given you was just as easily revoked.

“I just wanted some space to think, that's all.” You explain, your hand playing with the fabric of your robes, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just that when you sneak around with none of us knowing, it makes it seem like you have something to hide,” Seungcheol’s lips curve downwards as he listens to your explanation.

“Then I’ll go back to my room,” you sigh and begin to walk past him.

Seungcheol’s coldness had begun ever since he’d come back injured. Albeit, you hadn’t known him long enough to gauge his character before that, but there had been a lightness to it that certainly isn’t here now. The loss of mobility in his arm pained him in more ways than physical, more ways than you could possibly begin to comprehend.

“It’s—” You stop and look back at him, “hot outside today. You shouldn’t stay in the sun too long. Please take care of yourself.” A nervous laugh as you finish, finding him returning something of a lighthearted chuckle. For the first time in weeks, his smile didn’t look forced. “

“Thank you,” he nods, the smile still lingering in his voice, “take care of yourself too.”

You don’t find yourself coming across any of the other captains until later that evening, when the sun’s already sunk halfway down the horizon and a golden glow begins to encapsulate the headquarters. As you’re heading towards the main hall you hear a smattering of footsteps behind you, you turn and see Junhui heading towards you.

“What… what’s that for?” You question, looking down at his hands where he’s holding what looks to be an embroidery needed and a thin candle.

“One of those Baekje guys we picked up isn’t really a talker,” Junhui explains, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he speaks. “Jihoon’s with him but doesn’t have the… uh, means to speak with him.” As he sees your eyes widening in realization, he drops his hands behind his back, shielding the objects from vision. “I’ll stop talking and spare you from thinking any more about it.” He lets out a laugh before skirting around you and heading off towards another hallway.

There was even more commotion by the time dinner rolled around. The halls now darkened save for the braziers and candles that lit the entrances and walls. You’re sitting in your room when stomping once again disrupts your thoughts.

“Soonyoung!” You call out, having seen his green robes race by your doorway. Almost as quickly as he had shot past, he returns. “Why’s everyone running around tonight?” You ask as he stands in your doorway, trying to hold himself together with deep breaths. “Did that prisoner say something?”

His eyes light up, his chest puffing out almost proudly, “Yeah, Jihoon finally got the guy to break! It looks like they’re having a meeting right now, we’re actually getting ready for a raid.”

“Wouldn’t that be something the army typically does?”

“It really depends on the severity…” Soonyoung notes, “But since most of the troops are still up in Hanseong, the Crown let us do this.” He goes on to explain that the Hwarang would be dividing themselves into two groups. Youngmin would lead a group of a dozen men to Wonweol Inn and Jihoon would lead twenty-three to Jeolin Inn on opposite ends of the city. “Rumor has it that they’ll be at Jeolin, I’m kind of upset they’re sending me to Wonweol.”

It seems as if Jihoon’s forces were rearing to see action, Youngmin’s more so just to make sure all their leads were covered.

“There aren’t enough men to spread out equally?” You ask, wondering why there was such disparity between the numbers.

Soonyoung nods, “A lot of men get sick right when we need them the most.” The closeness of bunks typically made for unsanitary conditions, making the spread of disease easy. “We sent out word to the Guard but it doesn’t seem like they care all too much,” he sighs, leaning back on his heels.

Someone shouts out to him before you’re able to wish him luck, he gives you a curt wave before racing back down the hallway. Sometime after the able-bodied men had left, Seungcheol calls for you to meet him in the main hall.

“As a courtesy, I assume, Jihoon has asked me to protect the headquarters in his absence,” he relays to you once you’ve settled yourself into the hall. “It’s empty for the most part but that’s a reason they may attack us.”

“Does that mean you’ll protect me?” You question and he laughs almost immediately, his gold-plated earrings clatter together as his head shakes slightly.

“I’m sure I can be of more use than the men who’ve been confined to their beds.” It isn’t as reassuring as you thought it’d be, but it was at least something. His smile was sad at his words, probably feeling more and more unhelpful as the days progressed.

The silence between the two of you stays stagnant until a door to one of the halls opens quietly.

“Colonel Choi,” a man says as he enters, you recognize him as the face who’d pulled Jihoon away from you when you were out on patrol several weeks ago, “We’ve confirmed that the loyalists are meeting at Wonweol.”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice light but his face holding a certain sternness, “I suppose we’ve bet wrong again.” The Hwarang had been certain that Jeolin would be the place of the meeting and finding out that Wonweol was actually the location was certainly a blow to their plans.

“Chan,” Seungcheol looks at the newcomer, “can you do me a favor?”

Chan nods curtly, awaiting his instruction. You’d come to learn of him through the others, while not a resident of Shoshin Temple, he is both a member of the city Watch and an officer of the Hwarang. He’d been made aware of your situation at some point, so you didn’t need to feel as guarded around him as other members of the Hwarang.

“First, tell Jihoon that the meeting is at Wonweol, he should still be on his way to Jeolin.” Seungcheol begins and then looks to you, “And I’m sorry to put this on you, but I need you to take her with you.”

Chan’s eyes widen almost as big as yours as you ask, “Why me? Wouldn’t I only slow him down?”

“Save for Chan here, you’re the most able-bodied person residing in the headquarters,” Seungcheol says, grimacing at his words as the fingers on his right hand twitch, “even if you’re a burden you may just as well save someone’s life.”

You bite your lip, seeing that Chan was probably thinking the same thoughts that you were. Yet neither of you were able to oppose the colonel.

“There’s a chance that the loyalists have called for backup,” Seungcheol looks to Chan, “If your message were to be intercepted then you’d never reach Jihoon in time. Do you see what I’m trying to say?”

Chan nods slowly, piecing together the elder’s thoughts, “If we run into enemy forces, I could hold them off while she delivers the message…”

“You want me to do what?!” You can’t help but exclaim. It sounded as if the two of you were caught out, Chan would sacrifice himself so that you could escape.

“Don’t worry too much,” Seungcheol tries to reassure you, “I doubt it will come to that. We’re short of men right now which means I have to ask you to step in. You’ll need to notify the Guard and the Watch as well.”

“There’s really no one else who can do this?” You ask hesitantly, daunted by what Seungcheol was asking you to do. “What about Jeon?”

Jeon Wonwoo is another spy in allegiance with the Hwarang, yet he mostly dealt with Yamato forces.

Seungcheol shakes his head, revealing that Jeon was already with Jihoon’s team heading towards Jeolin.

As if seeing the nervousness on your face, Chan steps forward and offers you something of a nervous, sheepish smile. “I heard you know a little bit about protecting yourself,” his eyes glance towards the blade tucked away at your waist, “I unfortunately can’t guarantee your safety, but, if you can manage, you’re welcome to join me.”

Despite the gentle tone he was using, you know he’d kill you the instant you tried to run. This mission took priority over anything and anyone else in his way.

“I’ll go,” you nod, taking in a deep breath. “I can take care of myself, there’s no need to worry about me.”

You can see Seungcheol giving you a small smile as Chan steps back. More than anything, you know that Seungcheol wants to join and fight alongside his men, but it is impossible. The least you can do is carry out the mission in his stead.

“Then we accept your request, Colonel.” Chan nods and begins to head towards the exit with you following closely behind him. He turns to you as you close the door, “Run with all you can.”

You take off after him, the slow and itching burn rising from your legs the longer you pursue him. It’s as if the streets were plunged into darkness with how little you could see as you raced by, the sound of dirt under foot sliding with every footfall. You’re beginning to see that half a year indoors with little to no vigorous exercise has done something of a toll to your physique, you aren’t as in shape as you’d once been.

Had you not been paying attention, you may have slammed into Chan, who stopped abruptly after reaching the edge of the street.

“No matter what you see or hear, follow this street and don’t look back,” he whispers and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Has someone been following us?”

His head shakes, “You don’t need to know that.”

Your breaths heavy, knowing full well that he’d make it faster to Jihoon than you, “Chan you should go, I’ll stay behind.”

He frowns at you, “What could you do by staying behind?”

“If I distract them then you could slip away,” you push, resisting the urge to take a peek at whatever was coming after the two of you.

“If we need bait, then it’s going to be me,” his hand reaches for his sword as he looks past you, “Now, run!”

It takes no time for him to rush behind you and for your legs to kick off from the ground and begin to barrel down the street in front of you. You hear a clatter of blades behind you, thinking that Chan’s already locked in combat before he calls out, “Keep running until you see white!”

Knees weakened with the adrenaline of it all, you run down the street. You’re sure that the only way you’d be able to stop preemptively was to tear tendon from bone. Even in your haste you felt sluggish, as if everything around you were frozen in time. You run for another two minutes before spotting two silhouettes wearing white robes in the distance, as you near you can see the Commander with Kim Mingyu.

“What are you doing here?!” Jihoon says angrily, a tinge of surprise coating his words. You could almost cry in relief at seeing the two of them.

It’s then you notice that they’re not wearing the typical blue robes of the Hwarang, they’ve instead traded the vibrant hue for a pale white. Maybe it’s for better visibility, but you’re not too certain.

With shaking limbs, you try to step forward, your knees giving way and you begin to fall towards the ground. Mingyu reaches out to hold you up before you collapse entirely.

“Are you alright?” He asks as he helps you back to your feet. “You know if Jihoon finds out you left the compound without permission he’ll kill you, right?”

Rather than explain yourself, you focus on regulating your breath. At this moment you were far too winded to express why you’d left. After one, two breaths you take a third long inhale and turn to the commander.

“They’re meeting at Wonweol,” huffing out in short puffs of air, you try to straighten yourself to the best of your ability. Jihoon’s eyes widen at your words and he turns to Mingyu.

“I knew they’d be there!” An almost hiss escapes through his clenched teeth as Mingyu stares back at him.

Hansol, who you hadn’t seen standing off to the side with another group of men, steps forward. “Are you sure?” He questions you, a grave seriousness intertwined with his words.

“Seungcheol lost his arm, not his brain,” Jihoon says, looking over to Hansol, “if she’s out here looking for us and not hightailing it back to her hometown, then it’s safe to surmise he sent her.”

“It’s impressive that you found us,” Mingyu mutters, “Seorabeol is a big city, after all.”

“It was Chan,” you answer, the burning in your lungs slowly residing. “He told me to find you so he could fight against some of the loyalists.”

“What about the Guard or the Watch, are they on their way?” Jihoon asks, his hand resting atop the hilt of his sword. When you shake your head, you can almost see him trying to piece together their next move.

“Choi, Kim, take the men to Wonweol,” He instructs, a commandeering veneer to his words. “There’s something I need to do.”

The two captains nod and turn back to their men to relay the news and inform them of what their new plans were. Before they begin to move, Hansol looks back to you, “The city’s more dangerous tonight than it’s been on any of our rounds. Either stick with Kim and I or go with Lee.”

It was a relatively easy choice to make, right? You’d stick with Jihoon as the other two seemed to be off to battle. The prospect of being alone with the stoic commander was somewhat intimidating, but it would put you away from the bloodshed.

The two of you watch the rest of the group form together and head off into the dimly lit streets towards Wonweol Inn. Jihoon doesn’t say anything until the ringing out of the warrior’s footsteps dissipates into the humid nighttime.

“Good work in delivering that message,” there’s appreciation in his voice as he looks to you, something resembling a small smile pulling at his lips, “That information may have just given us the advantage we need.” An approving comment from the Hwarang’s demon commander was something that you’d never thought you’d hear; it makes your heart pound gleefully for a moment out of sheer shock of the scenario.

Jihoon and you step from the narrow street and move to one of Seorabeol’s main roads, a deserted place at this time of night.

“Jihoon?” You ask, feet treading on the grit of the dirt walkways, “Why are we out here?”

“The Hwarang don’t hide in the shadows like these Baekje loyalists,” He says matter-of-factly and looks down the street as if he’s searching for something, or someone.

It doesn’t take long for a figure to appear running towards the two of you. For a moment you think it’s an enemy and begin to reach for the blade at your hip before recognizing a familiar silhouette.

“You’re alive!” You gasp out, dropping your hand away from your side as the other approaches.

Chan doesn’t respond to you verbally, only nods his head with a small smile before straightening up and looking at Jihoon. “I assume you’ve been told what's happening at Wonweol? The colonel told me to notify the Guard and the Watch but...”

“I’ll have more orders for you in a bit,” Jihoon nods in understanding, “Just stay nearby for now.” He then turns to you as Chan slips wordlessly into a nearby alley. “I’ve got to have a word with a few useless assholes.” There was a spark of anger in his voice, a fire dimly beginning to glow brighter in his eyes. The commander then looks past you; you turn and see an oncoming group of Silla soldiers making their way down the street. Jihoon mutters something you can’t make out under his breath as they near.

You now realize why he’d brought you out into the main road, neither of you would have seen the oncoming troops had you been tucked away in a side street.

The pace of the oncoming soldiers was lazy, almost unconcerned in a way that miffed you. Shouldn’t they be worried about stopping a near rebellion from a fallen kingdom?

“The Hwarang are still fighting at Wonweol… aren’t they?” You ask into the nighttime, a strange fear gripping you as the dwindled numbers of the Hwarang were putting their lives at stake to quell this disturbance. Didn’t these men before you have some, if not more, responsibility to quash it?

Perhaps the anger and disbelief in your voice was more present than you thought, as Jihoon lets out a small chortle of laughter, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure they stay in line.” He steps out further into the street, directly in front of the group that was now only several meters in front of him.

All he did was move away from you and face them, but he now holds an aura of authority that hadn’t been there moments prior.

“The Hwarang are currently conducting an official investigation of Wonweol Inn,” he calls out as they stop before him, his voice echoing around the surrounding buildings. “You will not interfere or enter the Inn.”

Even you could see the grumblings of protest beginning to stir in the movements of the soldiers when Chan appears from the shadows once more and begins to speak quietly to you, “If Jihoon lets those men walk into Wonweol, they’ll get the credit for subduing the revivalists.”

“How could they…?” You ask, looking towards Chan. “It’s the Hwarang who are risking their lives for this mess.”

“It’s more political than just the Hwarang or the soldier taking credit,” Chan sighs as Jihoon continues to shout orders to the soldiers. “Jihoon’s adoptive father’s high ranking in the court’s aristocracy, so are a few of the other captain’s fathers. The Hwarang, in a way, represent them and the soldiers here represent the more military-inclined families. In the end it’s not the question of whether it was the Hwarang or the guard who subdued the loyalists, but which families were behind the winning team, in the Crown’s eyes.”

“That’s…” Convoluted. Confusing. Complex. Insane. Elaborate. “A lot.”

Chan must’ve been able to see the confusion in your gaze as he laughs to himself, “That’s only scratching the surface. But it shows the utter disrespect each side has from one another and I expect it won’t be resolved any time soon.” Both of your gazes travel back to the commander at the front of the guard, “Jihoon’s single handedly protecting the Hwarang right now. If we allow them to get to the Inn, they’ll lionize themselves.”

You can see that Chan thinks highly of Commander Lee in the way he admirably talks of his staunch resolution in doing what’s best for the Hwarang.

It seems as if Jihoon’s startling tactic was beginning to wane as a few soldiers began to protest his declaration.

“If you really think you can fit nearly, what, one hundred men?” Jihoon’s eyes scan the lines of soldiers for a moment, “If you think you can fit all of them into Wonweol, you’re insane. The best you can do with these numbers is surround it and make sure no one escapes.” He’s trying to dissuade them; you wonder if they can see it as clearly as you. “Unless you really want to lead your men to the slaughterhouse. There’s already a fight happening, and if you value your lives, I’d suggest you stay put.”

The head official leading the troops relents, stepping away from Jihoon as he finds no room for argument against the commander of the Hwarang. Jihoon stays in front of the troops until a member of the Hwarang finds you all standing there, claiming that the battle has ended.

Jihoon, Chan and you had returned to the compound as the first wave of Hwarang were returning from the skirmish. The fight had only lasted a matter of two hours, but to you it had felt like much longer. There had been nearly two dozen revivalists congregating at the inn, the Hwarang had ended up killing seven of their members and injuring four more of them.

Chan tells you later in the night that, with the aid of the Guard and Watch, sixteen more people in the city were arrested in relation to the Wonweol incident. The owner of the inn had also been arrested as he was aiding in the escape of several of the loyalists.

The Hwarang had prevailed, despite having the weaker numbers, in an incredible victory. Yet, with that victory also came some losses. Seungkwan had taken a blow to the chest and fell unconscious shortly after, Soonyoung had been cut across his forehead and the bleeding hadn’t relented, Junhui had injured his hand in a brawl, one Hwarang had lost his life and two others were severely injured. It didn’t seem as if the last two would make it the week due to the severity of their injuries.

With the quelling of the revivalist by Hwarang hands, it seems as if the group were now in a more favorable light with the Crown. As well as with the court members who vied for the organization’s success.

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 8𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Thanks for patching me up,” Junhui smiles at you as you finish tying together the bandage wrapped around his hand. “You’re pretty skilled at this.”

“It’s no problem,” you smile at him, rolling the remaining gauze together. “You should really take it easy, though– So your wound doesn’t reopen.”

“Ah,” Junhui frowns, “As soon as you’re done here, I’m supposed to go looking for the revivalists that escaped.”

“I see…” You understand that it was of the utmost importance that the Hwarang find them, but as the daughter of a physician you can’t help but worry about your patients.

“Have you heard anything about Soonyoung and Seungkwan? Have they woken up yet?” He asks as he rises to his feet.

“They’re awake,” you nod, packing away the gauze into a bag used for medical supplies. “Their wounds aren’t that bad, but being kicked in the stomach and slashed on the forehead are still pretty serious. There may be repercussions that we can’t see, like internal bleeding.”

“To think it was enough to make Seungkwan cough blood,” he sighs as you stand, a stern expression hardening his features.

Suddenly, the door to the room slides open and Mingyu bursts in, his eyes looking frantically around at the other aides before settling on you, “Are you free? There’s a warrior who’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Of course!” You nod and quickly follow after him. Many Hwarang were injured after the incident at Wonweol and you made a promise to treat and nurse them the best you can.

Before you realize it, dusk sweeps over the compound. Your eyes are heavy with the sleep you forwent the night prior. For the first time in hours, there was no one for you to treat, but that still doesn’t mean there isn’t work to do. Once you leave one of the injured Hwarang’s rooms, you go to find the others and get direction about what or who to focus on next. Yet, as you close the door behind you, you hear footsteps approaching.

“There you are!” Jihoon says, “There’s a captain’s meeting in the main hall in a few minutes. I’m sorry to bother you when you’ve just cleaned up, but can you make tea for us all?”

“Of course,” you say quickly, stifling a yawn. “I’ll bring some right away.”

A handful of minutes later you find yourself with a tray in hand, a steaming pot of tea and several cups adorning the surface as you make your way into the main hall. Upon entering, you see the captains reunited.

“Here you all go,” you say quietly so as to not disturb them and set about handing everyone a cup and pouring them a serving.

“Thank you,” Youngmin smiles gratefully as he picks up his cup.

Apparently, you’ve come in just as the captains are about to give their reports of their rounds earlier today.

“There was no sign of revivalist activity during my rounds with my division earlier,” Hansol reports.

“I’m sure word has already spread about the incident last night,” Jihoon muses, “I thought they’d be out for blood but I guess I’m wrong.”

“We can’t let our guard down,” Seungcheol reminds him, “They may be waiting until it’s dark again to make a move.”

“A valid point,” Youngmin agrees.

“You just got back from a meeting with the Guard, right?” Mingyu asks him, “What’d they say?”

“Ah…” Youngmin sighs, “They want their own warriors to accompany us on our rounds to catch the remnants of the loyalists.”

“No way,” Junhui nearly spits in anger, “They just want the fame for when we catch them!”

“Precisely.” Seungcheol nods, “If Commander Lee hadn’t stopped them from entering the Inn last night, the Crown would be praising them.”

“Whatever the reason, I cannot refuse an order coming from the Guard with the Crown backing them.” Youngmin looks to Jihoon, “So, I’d like to charge one of you with the rounds in cooperation with their warriors.”

“Not me,” Junhui says almost immediately, “I don’t know them, nor do I want to be responsible for their lives if things do come to a head.”

“Me either,” Mingyu adds, “My tongue may slip and I might say something unsavory to those opportunistic bastards.”

“That’s not… very helpful…” Youngmin sighs, “Hansol…?”

Suh Kangjoon interrupts before Hansol can even open his mouth, “Wait, Chief. Please entrust the Guard warriors to my division. I fully understand how important this mission is to undertake.” He snidely glares at Mingyu and Junhui before continuing, “The other captains don’t seem to have a grasp on the situation, probably because they lack the education and politicking.”

“I dare you to repeat that–!” Mingyu says angrily, nearly rising to his feet.

“If you’re looking for a fight, come with us and get your ass kicked,” Junhui frowns.

“Calm down,” Kangjoon says almost in a way to belittle them. “I’ll give you a simple rundown. Of course the Guard wants to make sure we don’t get full credit. But they also want to make sure we’re not trying to take their place. So it is vital to us that what they see and hear about the Hwarng presents us in a good light.”

Slowly nodding in agreement, Youngmin looks to the Commander and Colonel, “Jihoon, Seungcheol, you’re on board?”

“Suh is so admirably dedicated to the Hwarang,” Seungcheol says.

“Fine.” Jihoon waves, “Suh, you’re in charge of the Guard. But I don’t want any fuss.”

“I won’t cause any,” Kangjoon says with a sly smile.

“If you encounter any loyalists, make sure not to let them slip through your fingers.” Seungcheol warns, “If a mistake is made in front of the Guard, all the work we put into the success of Wonweol will be for nothing.”

“I give my word as a Suh,” Kangjoon says, although he seems already eager to leave. “The interests of the Hwarang always come first.

July 12th - Shoshin Temple, Kingdom of Silla

A few more days passed without any incident, but a rumor has begun to spread that the Guard are going to do something to retaliate for the praise they could have gotten from Wonweol. Everyone at the compound is walking on eggshells.

Even with everyone on edge, there are still things for you to be doing. So, you find yourself sweeping off the entranceway of the temple as the sun just begins to sink into the sky. Most of the warriors that pass nervously glance left and right every time they move. There haven’t been any incidents or injuries on the rounds, and yet the question remains in the air every time someone heads out: Will they come back safely?

“What are you doing outside?!” Mingyu’s voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Captain Kim–!” You breathe deeply to calm yourself, “Did something happen? You look on edge.”

“Of course I am when I see you like that. It’s dangerous!” He motions you to return inside, “Cleaning can wait.”

“Then something happened?” You take a step forward, you knuckles tightening around the grip of the broom.

“Ah,” he shakes his head, “I’m actually not sure myself, but the Watch might retaliate.”

“The Watch?” Your eyebrows raise as you follow him inside.

“I’ll explain but let’s get moving first.”

You follow him to the main room where Jihoon, Youngmin, and Seungcheol sit with sour faces. Kangjoon stands before them, pale as a ghost. Has something happened on the rounds?

“Dammit, Suh!” Jihoon shouts angrily enough that it looks as if the earring on his right ear may come flying off. “Fuck! I warned you, I insisted like a hammer to a nail but congratulations! You did a hell of a job.” Furious sarcasm drips from his words as Seungcheol disrupts his tirade with a cough to change the tone.

“Explain yourself, Captain Suh.” Seungcheol says with calm fury. “What are your thoughts on this situation?”

“It’s a huge misunderstanding! Please, let me explain myself.” Kangjoon then begins to list a reason of explanations. He and his division had met a suspicious swordsman on their rounds, in an attempt to stop him, Kangjoon had used his swords and injured him, but in the end they discovered that the swordsman was a man of the Watch. “To be fair, if the man had been honest from the start and revealed himself, none of this would have happened.”

“It’s true that trying to stop a swordsman from fleeing can’t be considered a fault…” Seungcheol sighs, “But resorting to using your sword… And all that in front of the Guard representative, who you’ve been entrusted with.”

“What a mess,” Jihoon frowns, “And the Guard can’t go and pretend they didn’t see anything. And of course, the Watch is going to ask for reparation since it’s their guy who got injured… Damn it. Why is this shit always happening to us?”

“May I have a word?” Lee Chan steps forward and whispers something into Jihoon’s ear.

“He what?!” Jihoon’s eyes go wide.

“I got the information from a source within the Watch. He died earlier today.” Chan says and steps back a few feet.

“That’s awful,” Jihoon says with a ‘tch’, “We’d better keep our heads low for a while and see if we’ve got the situation under control.” He rises from sitting with a sigh, “Gukseon Kwak and I will head to both the Guard and the Watch to apologize.”

“It would be wise for us to go to them rather than wait for their direction,” Seungcheol nods in agreement.

“Suh, you’re coming too.” Jihoon glances at the captain, “We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.”

“Ah… You… You want me to come…?” Kangjoon looks stunned. “But what if they consider me guilty as well…? Being ordered to–”

Jihoon lets out a bark of a laugh before turning fully to Kangjoon, shouting at him, “You’re taking responsibility for your actions! Now get the fuck out and get ready!”

Even though you’re only listening to what’s happening and have no part in it, you can see and feel how stressful and hectic the situation is. Why had the Watch soldier killed himself? Perhaps they had their own code of laws like the Hwarang did the O Gye. But it seems a bit exaggerated to have done that over something like this.

You follow the men out to the front of the compounds with the other captains to see them off.

“Well then, let’s get going.” Youngmin says and looks to Seungcheol, “Colonel Choi, the headquarters are now in your hands.”

“...Chief, Colonel, Commander!” Kangjoon says as he stands before them once more, “I never meant to cause trouble for the Hwarang. Please believe me!”

“It’s not us who are going to judge you,” Jihoon says shortly, “Let’s go.” He immediately starts walking, not wanting to hear any more protests from Kangjoon. But before he gets very far, a figure runs out from the shadows.

“You’re still here? Thank goodness I found you in time.” They say, racing over to Jihoon.

“What’s happening, Jeon?” Jihoon questions as Wonwoo comes into view.

“You see… the Guard who accompanied Suh on his rounds has also committed honorable suicide.”

“Another one?!” Jihoon staggers.

“The Guard want our commanders to join them as soon as possible.”

“I guess that’ll calm down the Watch,” Jihoon sighs, “Now I hope this is going to be the end of it.”

“So I– We don’t need to go to the Watch anymore?” Kangjoon asks.

“You idiot,” Jihoon growls at him, “You’re the cause of this mess! Of course you’re coming. And you’re going to apologize to the Guard and the Watch! Now!”

“I… Of course…”

“I guess this is good to know before we go,” Youngmin smiles weakly, “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, but… No choice, we have to go.”

With that, Youngmin and Jihoon leave for the Guard, Kangjoon following them reluctantly.

By the time you settle in your rooms, readying yourself for bed, the men haven’t returned from their meetings. Being too worried to find sleep before they arrive back, you impatient wait for them before you resign yourself to sleep.

Had their negotiations gone well? If they hadn’t, then all of the work the Hwarang poured into the Wonweol incident would vanish in an instant.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear footsteps in the corridor outside of your room. Quickly standing, you make your way to your door and slide it open.

“Huh?” You hear Jihoon sound out and turn towards the sound of your door opening, “Why are you still awake? You could have gone to sleep. You haven’t slept much the last few days.”

“Have you eaten yet?” You question as you step out into the corridor, “Do you want me to prepare something real quick?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you.”

“You look… Drained.” You say softly, noting his pallid looking complexion, “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, well I’m facing so many problems I’m beginning to think attracting them is a special talent of mine.” With the way he says that, you wonder what happened during the discussion with the Guard. Judging by his face, the worst case scenario must have been avoided, but something is still lingering with him,

“... If you can’t sleep, join me for a bit.”

“Huh?” You feel your cheeks begin to warm, “Our relationship isn’t that kind of… I mean…”

“I’m feeling overwhelmed, too. I can’t go back to my room because I’m sure I’ll be too frustrated to sleep.” He begins to walk, “Come with me, it’s fine. If we talk here, we’re going to wake everyone up.”

In the tranquility of the night, you can only hear crickets as he leads you to one of the empty courtyards. In your sleep-deprived mind, this feels as if time has suspended itself.

“... We’re here then, let’s talk.” Jihoon stops abruptly and you need to stop yourself before you run into him as he turns around to face you. “What do you want to know?”

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to ask?” You pose, “And for you to tell me about it?”

“The more you know, the better you’ll sleep,” Jihoon says simply. “In short, everything that Wonwoo said before we left was true.”

“So the warrior going on rounds with Captain Suh did kill himself…?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “that.”

“I have to admit that I don’t get the big picture of today’s events…” You admit, breaking away from his gaze momentarily, “I don’t understand it well.” As far as you’d heard, none of the men had been guilty of anything.

“In situations like these, we don’t always choose to do the right thing,” he sighs, crossing his arms as you look at him. “The honor of a warrior is more important than his life. The Watch guy chose it to save face. For the Guard one, it’s different. He was ordered to do so by his commander to stop any escalation with the Watch.”

Even as he explains it calmly, a chill still runs down your spine. Regardless of you own turmoil, he continues to speak with the same coldness. “With the Wonweol incident, I managed for the Hwarang to make a name for itself… If we want to have the Crown’s support, their entire support, having good relationships with the Guard is first above all.”

You stand there at a loss for words. This time, the Hwarang were not ordered to fall upon their swords but there is no guarantee that something similar won’t happen in the future. The next victim in this endless power struggle could very well be a member of the Hwarang.

“Our job is to keep order and kill those who stand in the way of it. Do the dirty work if needs be.” Jihoon locks eyes with you, “...That said, do you want to leave?” He sighs, “Well, it’s not like we can let you go, anyway.”

“You know, I… I really want to be useful to you all.” With his shocked expression you wonder if your answer was that unexpected.

“Are you serious?” His brow furrows, “At this point we’re just murderers, it seems.”

“There may be some truth to that…” You murmur, “But without you Seorabeol could have been reduced to ashes by now. I’m from a small village and I don’t fully grasp what it means to be a noble or to embrace a warrior’s code… Still, I hope I can help you, even if only with my limited medical knowledge.”

Jihoon watches your face, not interrupting you. It’s almost as if he’s looking into your heart, seeking the depth of your resolution.

“You look weak but your heart is strong, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile. “I thought we scared you and made you want to run with what happened at Wonweol.” You find that he looks gentle when he smiles. The longer you look at him, you feel the stiffness that has been there since the night at Wonweol slowly lift away.

“By the way, I forgot to thank you. You really proved to be an asset at Wonweol. You haven’t complained once since then and have been actively working for everyone’s sake behind the scenes…” He pauses for a moment, “I’m in your debt for everything you do for us. If you stay here, we’ll protect you. You’ve got my word.”

You can’t help but return a smile of your own, “...Thank you very much.”

To follow their warrior’s path– you can’t really help with that or like what vicious means they have to expend to dispense the king’s justice. But you don’t feel wrong in wanting to support Jihoon and the rest of the warriors. This thought is as strong as ever as you look at the commander’s face, illuminated in the moonlight.

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 661 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 As you walk down the corridors of the Hwarang’s compound, you carefully hold a book that Jeon Wonwoo had given you several minutes earlier. Coming to work with him, you find that he is more versed in Silla medicine than the Tang that your father had slightly taught you as you grew older. In a small promise, you tell him things you can remember from the trade and he has lent you the very book you hold of his own notes. And seeing that he is far superbly more versed in actually treating people, you find yourself in charge of bandage changing and wound cleaning. You’re happy to be in service to the soldiers, but they don’t make it any easier.

“Are you sure you want to go?” You hear a voice chime out from a room just ahead of you, “She’ll be here any minute.”

“It’s fine! My forehead is as good as new by now!” With almost certainty, you can tell that it’s Kwon Soonyoung speaking.

“Well said, Soonyoungie! The reward for Wonweol should come pretty soon!” You hear Junhui laugh, “Let’s spend a little too much of that money, shall we?”

With widened eyes as you’ve become privy to their plans, you race into the main room where you heard them speak.

“Captain Kwon! Where do you think you’re going?” You call out and Soonyoung turns quickly on his heels to face you.

“Ah–! I thought I told you to call me–” He notices the angered expression on your face, “Oh man– It’s not me! I swear! It’s Jun who wants to go out!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Junhui raises his hands in defense, “Are you trying to let me carry this alone?!”

“That’s enough!” You say sternly, “I’ve told you many times that alcohol isn’t good for fresh wounds and that you shouldn’t drink until the wound heals!”

“Harp on him some more,” Mingyu nods towards Soonyoung, “Even though he’s not allowed to practice with his sword he sneaks out everyday to show off the scar on his forehead.”

“Argh, Gyu! Stop talking!”

“I’ve repeated on and on how you shouldn’t remove the bandage!” You vent, you could almost feel the steam leaving your ears.

“Don’t bother,” Mingyu sighs and nods towards Junhui, “He’s not much better than a child when it comes to listening.”

“But you’re the ones who are tempting him with alcohol even though you know he shouldn’t drink any, right?” You frown.

“Huh? No way… We wouldn’t do that, right, Mingyu?” Junhui hums.

“S– Sure! Going out for a drink doesn’t necessarily mean alcohol… It can be water.” Mingyu says, trying to cover his ass.

“Gyu!” Junhui whispers loudly, “What do you have to say it like that?! It sounds suspicious as hell!”

“What can I say?” Mingyu shrugs, “I hate lying.”

“Enough!” You interrupt them, “If you don’t respect the rules then Soonyoung’s wound isn’t going to heal!”

“Hey!” Soonyoung says quickly, “I’m not the one fooling around with my injury!”

“True! Seungkwan participates in sword fighting lessons every day!” Junhui nods in agreement.

“Captain Boo does…?!” You take a moment to calm your breathing, “OK… So as soon as I’m done cleaning Soonyoung’s wound, I’ll pay a visit to him.”

“That paste medicine?” Soonyoung winces, “I hate that stuff.”

“Maybe,” you begin to reach for the medicine bag on your back. “But it works wonders so come here.”

After you’re done treating his wound, you go to look for Seungkwan loitering around the compound, but for some reason you can’t seem to find him. It’s not like he’s on patrol– the commander had deemed him too injured for that right now. As you round one of the compound’s hallways you do find yourself almost smacking into him.

“Oh, hey,” Seungkwan greets you as you reel backwards in surprise. “What are you up to, cleaning?”

“That’s the least of my concerns!” You say, noticing that he wasn’t wearing his normal lounging clothes, “You know I was supposed to come and check on your injury, where were you?”

“Ah,” he sighs sheepishly, “The kids from the merchant district wanted to play so I went out with them.”

“You went out–? I told you to rest and not move until your injury was healed.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he waves his hand to dismiss your statement, “It’s not like my wound is going to get worse just because I played jegichagi.”

“You don’t know that! You could be bleeding from inside your stomach, or your organs might be damaged!” You don’t relent, pressing him further. “I also heard you’ve been going to sword practice every day.”

“Right,” he nods simply, “If I don’t practice, then I’m going to get weak.”

“But if you don’t recover, you may never be able to practice again,” You counter.

“Okay, okay,” Seungkwan sighs, “Then hurry up and take care of me.”

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 23𝔯𝔡, 661 - 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡��𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 You find yourself in a similar predicament a few days later when you fail to find either Soonyoung or Seungkwan roaming about the compounds. Yet, you’re a bit thankful as you’re running low on medical supplies and you need permission from Jihoon to go and purchase more.

“Medicine shopping?” The commander questions you once you’d found him in his quarters.

A nod, “For Captain Boo and Soonyoung. I was going to ask another captain but it seems as if they’re all on patrol…”

“Then do you want me to tag along?” He asks and you look at him, a bit surprised.

“You, Commander…?”

“Normally I’d ask Chan to do this, but he’s currently investigating something for me,” Jihoon explains, “We’ve got a lot of injured men, no one’s really free to go.”

“But surely you must be very busy too…” You murmur, feeling bad if you have to pull him away from work. There are piles of papers on his desk, which you suppose have been sent from the Crown, the Guard, and the Watch. “I was writing a report about the incident at Wonweol, but it’s fine. I should take a break anyway.”

You give him a small smile, “Well, thank you for coming with me.”

The two of you traverse the streets of Seorabeol together. While you hop from merchant to merchant, you try to keep an eye out for anyone that looks like your father but come up empty-handed.

Jihoon sighs as you pay a merchant for some powdered poria, “We still can’t find him…” Even after asking a few of the merchants, they hadn’t come across anyone like your father. Seeing your glum expression he notes, “We will find him eventually. Don’t give up hope.”

“Alright,” you nod as the two of you walk away from the storefront.

Jihoon always appears very strict but when he speaks like this you see a glimpse of his gentler self.

“After the Wonweol incident, it seems like the loyalists have toned it down a bit,” he nods, “The rounds are going to be less dangerous for a while. So you can join the captains again and search for Heo, if you’d like.”

The grip you have on the parcel of medicine tightens, until now you’d stayed behind on the patrols in fear of something happening. With Jihoon’s words, you grow a bit more at ease with the thought of leaving.

“I think we’ve known you for long enough now to trust that you wont run,” he nods with a smile after noting your reaction, “I don’t want to brag but I’m fairly good at reading people… Anyway, where should we go next? Did you get all of the medicine you needed?”

“Oh, right!” You bring out the list of herbs from your robes, “I actually need some ginseng root…”

After you have finished purchasing everything you require, the two of you head back to the headquarters.

“Bandages here… And this one is for wounds…” You mutter to yourself as you rummage through the medicine supply room, storing everything purchased today.

“What’s that?” Jihoon asks as he peers over your shoulder.

“A decoction for curing summer sickness, I think it has gokaju in it…” You note, popping the lid from the pitcher and wincing at the alcoholic scent.

“Don’t keep it in plain sight, the warriors will smell it and take it,” Jihoon sighs, knowing how the rowdier men are. “Hide it somewhere.”

“Ah, right.” You nod, beginning to look for an ideal hiding spot. Looking around the space, you see shattered remnants of storage containers littered in the corners of the closet, “Maybe I should clean up first. If it’s dirty I don’t know how well things will keep in here.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Jihoon notes, “And it’s a lot of furniture to move in here…”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be–”

“Ask the free warriors to help you, you shouldn’t overdo it.” He interrupts.

As nice of a thought as it is, you know everyone is probably very busy at the moment. “No,” shake your head, “I’ll be alright on my own. Everyone else has more important things to do.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Yes,” you nod enthusiastically, “I’ll be done in no time!”

“Fine,” he says a bit reluctantly, “I’ll be in my room. Let me know if you need anything.” After you assure him you’ll be alright he spins on his heels, returning to his quarters.

It takes you what feels like years, but you eventually get the closet into a somewhat presentable condition. Things had been missorted into the yakjang and it had taken you nearly an hour to sort through the drawers.

The door behind you swings open and you hear Jihoon ask, “How’s it going?”

“I’m finished with the chest here and the corners… but there’s something strange…” As soon as the words leave you, you hear the pittering sound of an animal’s footsteps in the ceiling.

“Are you kidding me– Mice?” Jihoon’s eyes widen as he looks upwards.

“Probably,” you sigh, “I’ll take a look.”

“Be careful–” he says as you reach for the ladder that accompanies the shelf, it should get you high enough where you can look at the beams that support the roof. You climb up it, raising one of the boards of the ceiling once you reach the top.

As soon as you open it, you’re startled by a mouse darting out and you begin to fall off of the ladder, “Ah–!”

“Watch out!” Jihoon shouts as you begin to fall towards the floor. Surprisingly, though, you don’t hit the ground. There’s a jerk and you open your eyes to see that Jihoon had caught you mid fall, his hands holding your hips as he steadies you on the ladder.

As soon as the fear subsides, your blood rushes and your heart begins to pound hard against your chest.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly.

You find yourself still dazed, never have had a man touch you like this even if it was for your safety. “I’m so sorry!” You say quickly as your face warms.

“Are you able to grab back onto the ladder? Or should I guide you to the floor?”

“Ah,” you say, trying to move but realize the hem of your sleeve caught between two of the rough wooden boards of the ceiling, “My sleeve…” You try several times without success to free yourself.

“Hey, stop wiggling so much!” Jihoon says and his grip tightens to hold you in place.

“R–Right…” You meekly say and try once more to free your sleeve. Eventually, it pulls out and you manage to get yourself back onto the floor. “I– I’m really sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” Jihoon says quickly, “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“I know,” you murmur, “But it’s because I was careless.”

His arms cross, “Just be careful next time and you’ll be fine. It’s a good thing I just happened to walk by. You could’ve injured yourself if you were alone.”

“I’ll be careful,” the heat in your face isn’t residing, moreso out of embarrassment now.

The air hangs awkwardly between the two of you now. It takes a moment for him to speak again, “So… Are you done cleaning?”

“I am,” you say far too quickly. “I just need to put away the ladder and I’ll be done.”

“I’ve got it,” he says, reaching out for the ladder and moving it back to its corner. You note that Jihoon’s behavior is a bit off, not like his controlled, usual self. Perhaps he’s concerned about what happened earlier. “All done,” he says.

“Thank you for your help.”

“I should be thanking you,” he smiles, “You cleaned up this hellhole of a closet… Thanks. Now take the rest of the day off.”

“I will,” you return the smile gratefully, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Hm,” his expression drops and you furrow your brow. “I wish the injured warriors could take after you and rest when asked to.”

“It would make things much easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “But most of them aren’t the obedient type anyway… Well, if everything’s fine here, I’m heading back to my room.”

“Please do,” you say, noting how tired he looks. It must be taxing to keep a hold on the men who can be so carefree and hot headed at times. Perhaps you’ll stop by his room later with some tea.

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 2𝔫𝔡, 661 - 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Ever since the raids on both Wonweol and Jeolin Inn, the Hwarang had become stricter on their rounds around Seorabeol, looking for and capturing any of the Baekje revivalists that had escaped that night. Rumors had begun to plague the streets that the loyalists were looking for revenge on those who tried to stop their rebellion. On top of that, the Hwarang were under harsh scrutiny of their opposers in the Crown’s court. Despite them having stopped a meeting that was calling for the kidnapping of Silla’s monarch, a fact you had come to learn of after the raids.

Yet as the days creeped more lethargically into the summer, it seems as if the tensions that had arisen earlier in the season were dying down. Life was somewhat steady again. And due to your efforts during the battle, the Hwarang were growing more receptive and encouraging of your involvement with them. A small victory, for sure, but you were now allowed to complete chores in solitude now rather than being watched over by one of the captains. That’s where you find yourself now, sweeping away the dust that had accumulated in the overnight winds in front of the complex.

You’re humming to yourself, brushing the boom atop the agate stone of the entrance when you hear gentle footsteps walking up the stairs to the main gate.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice calls out to you, “Is this the Hwarang headquarters?”

You look up from your work, your lips parting in mild surprise at seeing a familiar face, “It is.” After staring at him for a second longer than what was probably considered adequate, you pose your own question, “Haven’t we met before?”

“Ah, yes- hello,” the man smiles at you, the sunlight glimmering off of the purple silk of his robes, “It’s been a while since the tea shop, hasn’t it?”

This was the unknown man that had stepped in to confront Kangjoon for you earlier this year. It didn’t look as if he’d changed much, that happy-go-lucky aura still exuding from him as he stands in front of you.

“It has,” you return the smile, “Thank you again for helping out that day.”

“It’s no problem,” he says quietly, “Like I said that day, it was my pleasure. In any case, I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.”

It’s not until this moment that you realize that he’d called you by name the last you’d met. You can’t recall giving him it, but your memory was still a little frazzled from that day.

“I’m sorry for not asking you your name despite all you did for me and those people,” you say quickly, remembering how Jihoon had been agitated that you’d forgotten to ask the man his name.

His eyes shine for a moment, a faint melancholy in his voice as he responds, “My name is Lee Seokmin.”

It strikes you as a rather pretty name, or maybe it was because he’d said it so lightly. Regardless, you nod your head in understanding, “How can I help you?”

“Ah, well,” his eyes keep shifting from you to the Hwarang’s main building. You conclude he was here on some sort of business to discuss with the Hwarang. Seeing as the last you’d met, Seokmin had defended the tea shop against a rambunctious member of the group, you wonder if he’s here to report Kangjoon to the higher-ups.

As if he had telepathic means to tell if you’d strayed away from your task, the front entrance of the hall swings open, Jihoon standing in the doorway. He looks from you to Seokmin and then back to you, pausing as if to let you speak.

“Commander,” eyebrows raising in surprise, “This is-”

Before you could finish speaking, Seokmin almost gleefully runs to the commander.

“I knew it!” Seokmin says, an unhidden delight in his words as he smiles at Jihoon, “It’s me, Seokmin, long time no see!”

“Y- Wait, Seokmin?” Jihoon looks surprised as the other announces himself, “What are you doing here?!”

A laugh from Seokmin, “Are you surprised? I’m visiting Seorabeol with the Crown’s orders.” He waves his hand, “But forget about that. I can’t believe it was you connected to the Hwarang! I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Congratulations, you really followed your and Hoseok’s dream.”

The name lingers in the air heavily for a moment between the two, you’ve never heard of a Hoseok before. Looking at the two of them, it must’ve been at least an acquaintance of theirs.

Jihoon doesn’t let the weight last, breaking it with a small smile. “Come on, if I were to fully do that, I’d be a general by now. The Hwarang aren’t treated much better than the city guard at this point.”

“Still,” a somewhat nostalgic look in Seokmin’s eye, “I’m sure he’d be happy either way. The Hwarang are famous in Seorabeol and gaining even more notoriety in other cities. With the raids last month, you’ve gained even more popular support.”

Jihoon looks humble for a second, breaking his gaze with Seokmin to look at the ground. “We’re still working on that,” he mumbles out as the other laughs at him.

It was an odd thing to see Jihoon flustered, you’d only seen a mild variant of his embarrassment when Seungkwan would really get under his skin. But you’ve never seen his cheeks go flush before. With Seokmin’s teasing and knowledge of something that seemed to have happened years ago, it would suggest that they’ve known each other for a while. Are they good friends?

Once you sense their conversation coming to a lull, you speak up, “Commander, this was the warrior that helped me with Kangjoon at the tea shop a while ago.”

“I see,” Jihoon muses and turns to look at Seokmin, “Sorry for her causing trouble, well, I suppose you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s alright,” Seokmin nods, “I was just passing by for personal reasons. I didn’t report it.”

“Thanks for that,” the commander offers a smile of appreciation. His gaze looks to the cloudless, sunny sky for a moment, “We don’t need to talk outside like this, why don’t you come in?”

As the two make their way inside, you set the broom that was still in your hands next to the doorway and scurry off to the kitchen. You return to them some while later holding a tray of tea and assorted goods for them. After you’d set down the tray, Jihoon told you to stay, so you take a seat a little way away from where the two are conversing.

“You said you’re here on Crown orders? What are you here for?” Jihoon asks, his hand hovering over his steaming cup of tea.

“I’m currently working in one of the Sodang units.” Seokmin explains. He goes on to say a few more things about his duties, but you are unfamiliar with a majority of the lingo they use, so you try to follow along to the best of your ability.

Jihoon, glancing at you and seeing your viable confusion, says, “He’s in the Naegeumwi, entrusted with protecting King Munmu and his family.”

“Oh wow,” you look at Seokmin, “I’m honored to meet someone with such a high ranking.”

“Please,” it’s the same humbled tone he’d used at the tea shop, “I only acquired this position because of the connections my father has.”

“Why would someone with his rank need to visit the Hwarang?” You question Jihoon. While the Hwarang worked under the Crown, there was no direct connection, whereas it seems as if Seokmin works quite literally with the king.

“Are you asking why he’d know a bunch of washed-up nobles and commoners like us?” Jihoon asks, almost teasingly. You nod gently, so as to not offend him. “You see, not only is Seokmin in the Naegeumwi, but his father’s father was Lee Alcheon.” Once again noting your confusion he clarifies, “A Sangdaedeung under Queen Jindeok some years ago. He opened a prestigious school after his time in office, and now Seokmin here is the heir to it. The school I attended socialized often with the Lee school and that’s how I came to meet him.”

“That’s right,” Seokmin nods, “When I heard that I was heading to Seorabeol I knew that I had to find Jihoon.” His eyes shine with admiration towards the aforementioned, but the commander just scoffs and rolls his eyes at him.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Lee,” Jihoon sighs, “And remember: Seorabeol isn’t exactly a relaxing getaway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind… However, even if it is dangerous, it seems even a woman can join the Hwarang?” Seokmin looks at you coyly before returning his gaze to the commander. He judges both the surprised look and glare from Jihoon for a moment before raising his hand to his mouth in surprise, “Was that supposed to be a secret?” He waits a moment, seeing as there’s no answer, he continues, “It’s not difficult to tell. I mean it’s not her fault.”

“I know,” Jihoon’s probably recalling the first he’d met you; he’d been one of the first to figure it out, “Only a fool couldn’t see.” He resigns himself into a sigh, “Her reasons for being here are somewhat complicated, so we’re having her dress as a man for now. Only a handful of men in the Hwarang know of her circumstance, so I’d prefer if you didn’t speak about it in front of anyone.”

“I understand,” the guard agrees, “would it be too much to ask the reasons for her staying here?”

“Her father is missing, so we’re allowing her to cooperate with our investigation,” Jihoon sets his hand around the now cooled teacup, bringing it to his lips and drinking the contents slowly.

“Her father-” Seokmin’s brow furrows, “You’re talking about Heo Jinsang?” The second the name leaves his lips, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. How was it that he knew everything?

“How do you know his name?!” You can’t help but blurt out.

“Wait a minute,” It seems like the commander was also shocked by the revelation that Seokmin knew who Heo Jinsang was. He sets his teacup down onto the tray with a small clatter before looking bewildered at the guard. “How do you know her father is Heo?”

“I visited the Heo Clinic a long time ago,” Seokmin explains and then looks towards you and asks in a timid voice, “Do you not remember me?”

It clicks for you, so that’s how he knew your name and father. You search his eyes for a moment, nothing sparking a memory of him from your childhood. “Were you a patient of my father’s?”

“No,” Seokmin offers you somewhat of a forlorn smile at your response, “I was interested in Tang medicine when I was younger, so I went to your father’s clinic to study.”

“I see…” still trying to recall his face, you nod your head.

“Don’t worry though, I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of me.”

“What?” Jihoon interrupts, “What are you talking about? You don’t have to keep coming back here.”

“Don’t be like that, Jihoon,” He laughs at the commander and glances back at you, “We’re both from Gochang, we're buddies.” Seokmin then moves to get a little closer to the commander, clearly trying to fluster the elder. Normally Jihoon was composed and tried to keep himself together, seeing him easily behave like this was somewhat amusing. It’s almost as if he was enjoying himself.

The three of you talking must’ve drawn the attention of the captains, because as Seokmin was teasing the commander some more, they slowly began to filter in.

“Seokmin!” Junhui says as he sees the guard, running over to him and throwing an arm around his shoulder, “I thought you’d said you’d visit sooner!”

“We thought we heard your voice somewhere, Wen thought he was hallucinating,” Mingyu notes as he greets Seokmin.

“Junhui, Mingyu,” a smile curling onto Seokmin’s lips at Junhui relinquishes him from his grasp, “And everyone else! Long time no see.”

“Can’t believe you’re in Seorabeol too now, are you here to train?” Junhui asks.

“Don’t be stupid, Wen. I bet he’s here to protect something or someone important, right?” Soonyoung questions as he looks to the guard.

A breathy chuckle from Seokmin, “It’s… something like that.”

“If you’re in Seorabeol, then it must’ve been a good job offer.” Hansol notes, as he looks at Seokmin.

Seokmin nods silently to affirm him while Seungkwan speaks up, “If that’s the case: be careful. Don’t be stupid and go off dying on us.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Seokmin looks to the elder, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“We should go drinking to celebrate someday, hell, we could go now if you want!” Junhui shouts out, eager to get out of the headquarters for a bit.

The rest of the captains surround Seokmin for a while, immersing themselves in conversation and banter with the guard as he, too, seems to get lost in it all. So, he really did know all of them.

“Despite him being in the Naegeumwi, and heir of his grandfather’s school…” Jihoon’s eyes hold a fond warmth as he looks onto the commotion happening in the room. “He doesn’t hold that over the heads of the ranks lower than him. No one can escape his amiable nature.” The commander then turns to you, “Whenever he visits, be sure to let him in.”

“Alright,” you nod, not bothered by that order at all. Seokmin seemed to bring a warmth to the Hwarang men that you hadn’t seen too often, it was probably good for them.

The men spent an exorbitant amount of time regaling about memories and incidents that had happened with their friend, and before they or you knew it, evening descended upon the compound with the orange glow of the setting sun. Seokmin notes this at one point and says he has to depart back to his duties.

“When I return to Gochang I’ll ask about Heo,” The guard notes as he steps out of the front entranceway with Jihoon. You stand a few feet away from them and listen quietly to their conversation.

“If you want to,” Jihoon nods in agreement, “Be sure to not tell anyone about our investigation.”

“Of course,” Seokmin nods and glances over to you as if to affirm himself, “My lips are sealed.”

As the three of you begin to make your farewells, from around the thicket of trees and down the walkway that leads to the entrance of the headquarters, you can hear the approaching steps of a returning group of Hwarang. They’re probably returning from their evening rounds, but you’re not sure who was on patrol today.

“You’re- You’re that bastard from the tea shop, aren’t you?!” One of them freezes in their tracks before angrily storming over to the three of you. Almost instantly you recognize the voice and face of Suh Kangjoon. He stands before Seokmin, his voice irate, “Why the hell are you here?”

Seokmin looks at him, his voice reserved and questioning, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t think we’ve been acquainted yet.”

“Are you trying to mock me?” Kangjoon huffs, you’re sure if it were colder outside his breath would escape him in large plumes of white. “Name yourself!”

“I am a member of Gochang’s Sodang unit under the Naegeumwi, my name is Lee Seokmin.” The guard states stoically, no inflection to his voice in trying to sound superior or below the man in front of him.

“A Naegeumwi… Lee…” It’s almost as if Kangjoon’s trying to piece together a puzzle, “Are you from Lee Alcheon’s-?”

“Yes. I’m here in Seorabeol on official business.” Seokmin states calmly, “As I had some free time, I’ve come to visit my friends from Kwak Hall.”

“Don’t lie to me! You’ve come to spread malicious rumors about the last time we met!” Kangjoon barks, his chest puffing out as if to intimidate Seokmin.

The guard doesn’t seem in the least bit phased as he responds, “I have come here to see my friends, nothing more.” Seokmin shifts his weight from foot to foot as he brings his hand up to his chin in faux ponderance, “Or… Would you rather me remind you of what occurred when I last saw you?”

His eyes sharpen at the Hwarang, who seems to have been taken aback by the statement.

“If you say so,” the Hwarang cedes, realizing that he was in no place to argue with the commander of his organization listening quietly in on their conversation. “We’re settled. I’ll be on my way.” His voice holds a semblance of respect as he walks away with the handful of other Hwarang he’d arrived with.

Despite the situation escalated by Kangjoon alone, Seokmin seems rather relaxed as he watches the Hwarang storm off into the compound. You only let out a sigh of relief when Kangjoon leaves your line of sight, you weren’t aware you’d been holding your breath.

“Jihoon,” Seokmin asks, a small frown on his lips as he turns back to the commander, “Who is that man?”

“His name is Suh Kangjoon,” the commander’s arms cross as he lets out a sigh, knowing full well how problematic the Hwarang is. “He’s a captain from the Hanseong unit who’s come to stay with us for the time being. I’m sorry about him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

“I’ll be alright but,” Seokmin looks at you before returning his attention to Jihoon, “Keep an eye on her. I’m sure if he found out she was here it wouldn’t go over well.”

“I’ll try to drop by again soon,” Seokmin smiles, a twinkle in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and heads towards the city. You watch him as he leaves, his tall figure becoming smaller and smaller with every step before he eventually disappears down the pathway.

Even if he was an important person and a friend of the Hwarang, he was an enigma to you. Seokmin was assuredly high amongst the bone-ranks, maybe even higher than the Hwarang’s commander, yet upheld himself with integrity and mindfulness to everyone he came across. You’d never been made aware of a noble that was like that before, most adhering to the rigid structure of the realm.

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 15𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It’s hot. Blazingly so. The city is blanketed by a heat so unknown to you that you found yourself perspiring as you awoke that morning. You’d thought you’d been sick until you walked into the main hall and saw the other captains in a similar state to yourself. There was nothing to be done about it except for staying in the shade or perhaps cooling off by a river.

Yet, that’s not what was in store for you. Ever since your actions on the nights of the inn raids, Jihoon has been much more forgiving in his attitude, allowing you to resume your patrols with the captains. And seeing as Kim Mingyu was about to head out, you decided to tag along.

You regret that decision almost immediately when you step onto the city’s streets, the crowds not doing anything to damper the rays of sun beaming down onto you.

“Mingyu?” You ask as the two of you walk down the street, “The Hwarang patrol both night and day, right?”

“They do,” he nods, wiping the sweat that had accumulated around the headband on his forehead, “Why?”

“Why is it that you do? Wouldn’t that be more of the city guard’s job?” You question as you pass by an armory, the heat of its fires only causing you to perspire more.

“Because most of the city guard’s been called to the front,” his shoulders shrug, “Emperor Gaozong called them to help his forces root out Gogoryeo last month, so they’ve had a decline in their numbers… I’m not sure when they’ll be back, I heard the King was leading generals to Siigok Garrison so I can only assume it’ll be a while.”

“So, you’ve become the city guard then?”

“I mean, in a way,” he thinks, “We arrest thieves, people who’re looking for fights and who don’t pay for their meals. And then there are those who think they’ll just mooch off merchants...”

It wasn’t fully the answer you’d been expecting, maybe along the lines of it. The adoption of the guard’s role was something new, but you couldn’t fault them for it if the city needed their swords. Before you’re able to continue to question him, a few men in Hwarang blues down the road seem to be trying to wave Mingyu down. Getting closer to the scene, you can make out Junhui’s figure and a few more Hwarang men.

“Hey!” He smiles as the two of you stand before him, he looks to you before asking, “Find anything about your dad?”

“No,” a small shake of your head, “Nothing yet.”

“Ah, cheer up,” he says, gently hitting you on the arm as he sees your downtrodden frown, “There’s always tomorrow.”

“You’re right,” pepping up slightly at his words. Junhui seems to be able to energize and lighten the mood whenever someone was feeling low, it was something you’d noticed over the course of getting to know him. It was almost as if his optimism was contagious.

“Did you find anything fun, Junhui?” Mingyu questions, probably wondering if there was any more reason for Junhui flagging you down other than wanting to say hello.

“Nothing in particular…” Junhui admits, “But, all of the people on this street are acting really busy.”

You think he’s being a little over dramatic, but a closer observation of the pedestrians and shopkeepers has you thinking a little more critically. There was almost a nervousness, an anxiety, threading itself through the air and in their movements.

“It looks like they’re… packing up?” You observe, eyeing one merchant in particular boxing away his things.

“You think they’re worried about the war with Gogoryeo or the Baekje guys?” Mingyu asks Junhui, crossing his arms.

“I thought that the Baekje threat was resolved...?” You say, looking from Mingyu to Junhui, confusion seeped into your voice.

The taller rests his hand atop the hilt of his sword, “We didn’t tell you, did we? Those Baekje bastards have been showing up again, that’s why we’ve been having extra rounds.”

“Even if we did weaken them at Wonweol,” Mingyu frowns, “I can’t really imagine them standing idly around when we’ve put some of their men in the ground. And now that the king’s absent… it’s a little trickier for us.”

“Were the loyalists planning on doing something?” You ask, the way Mingyu had spoken leads you to believe something had been in the works.

“Not sure,” Junhui says with a shake of his head, “Other than what we found out after the raids we haven’t gotten wind of anything else.”

“It doesn’t matter, though,” Mingyu notes, “All we’ve got to do is do our jobs. The loyalists attack Seorabeol, we drive them out. It’s as simple as that.” The Hwarang just accept the cards they’re dealt and never seem to complain.

“If the loyalists continue their stunts then we’re probably going to get orders from the king to do something whenever he gets back,” Junhui sighs, not knowing how long the sovereign would be out of the capital.

“What do you think he’d decree?” A tilt of your head as you ask, unknowing what more he could make the Hwarang do.

“In the past the Hwarang have fought almost as their own regiment, he might do that.” Junhui shrugs, his hand moving from his sword and down to his side.

“That doesn’t happen too often,” Mingyu nods almost approvingly and then turns to you with a joking smile, “You should join us.”

You laugh at the sudden invitation, knowing full well the offer isn’t real. Seeing as the female version of the Hwarang, the Wonhwa, had been thrown away since before the Hwarang themselves were even conceptualized, it was a long shot to think that you could march along their ranks. As much as you want to help these men, you’re not sure that they’d fully accept you into their ranks. But if you could aid them like you had on the night of the raids on the two inns, you wouldn’t mind doing something like that again.

“If you want me to go with you, I wouldn’t be opposed,” you shoot back to Mingyu, cracking a small smile at him. “If you need me to help, I’ll do whatever I can.”

His smile deepens, the dimples on his cheeks beginning to show, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if the time comes.”

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 18𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Excuse me,” you say quietly as you make your way into the main hall, the wooden handle of the teapot in your grasp coarse on your palm. The heat of its contents rising to try and weaken your grip on the vessel. “I brought you all some more tea.”

The Hwarang captains and men sit in various spots around the hall, you’re not sure why they’re convening, but they’d been in there for at least an hour discussing some matter at hand.

“Thanks!” Junhui calls out and beckons you over, he takes the pot from your hands and begins to pour tea into his already halfway filled cup, “It’s almost like you’re our servant or something.”

More so a page, but you weren’t going to correct him quite yet. You take back the pot and look around for anyone who might need a refill. Spotting Eunseok trying to catch your eye, you make your way over and fill his cup.

“Thank you,” he says once you’re finished, quickly bringing the cup to his lips, and blowing on the warm contents.

“It’s no problem,” you smile, voice barely above a whisper as you try not to disrupt the main conversation flowing throughout the hall. As you’re about to move away, Seungkwan swipes the pot from your grasp, pouring his own cup of tea and taking a drink of it. His face contorts for a moment and you question, “Does it not taste good?”

“It tastes fine, I guess,” his shoulders shrug as he leans back in his seat, “It could stand to be a little warmer though, maybe you’re just taking too long to pour it.”

“Oh,” you frown, taking the pot back from him, holding your free hand to the side of the vessel for a moment to test the warmth, “I’ll go and brew some more.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Soonyoung butts in, motioning for you to hand him the pot, “I like it lukewarm because it’s easier to drink, right, Hansol?”

“Right,” the aforementioned captain nods, “It’s easier to drink on a hot day like this.”

It looks as if Soonyoung’s about to speak again before Youngmin barges into the hall, a stoic expression drawn onto his face.

“The Hwarang have received an official request from the Crown to head to Ongsan Fortress. All available men must get ready to set out at once,” Youngmin says, a sternness in his voice hinting at a notion of pride somewhere hidden away in its depths. There’s general excitement beginning to buzz among the Hwarang before he continues, “It seems as if they’ve noticed all of our hard work as of late.” It’s then he lets himself break out into a prideful smile; it was clear he was proud of the work the Hwarang had achieved in the past few weeks.

As you scan the faces of the room, there was one in particular that has a sour expression forming as Youngmin finishes.

“We don’t have time to celebrate,” Jihoon says, rising to his feet, “We need to get moving now, so get off of your asses and go!” The captains and other men then begin to follow his lead and stand, “Those loyalists are already in Seorabeol, we need to cut the head off of this snake before it lays any more eggs.”

Once the men filter out and it’s only you and the captains, Jihoon speaks up, “Only when there’s somewhere else to go they tell us to haul ass?” He shakes his head, “We may not be the Guard or the Watch, but it doesn’t mean we’re any less expendable.”

“Soonyoung and Seungkwan,” Seungcheol says after Jihoon’s done mumbling to himself, “You’ll remain here. I know it’s not what you want, but your injuries from Wonweol are still preventing you from active duty.” You glance to his hand, knowing full well that the colonel would be staying behind as well.

“Speak for yourself,” Seungkwan frowns, clearly perturbed by the orders, “It’s not like my injuries didn’t recover. But I’m not at peak performance, even I can realize that. So, if you want me to hang back, I guess I can…”

“That’s bullshit!” Adversely, Soonyoung points to his forehead, the cut he’d received during the raids still an angry pink where the skin had been slashed. “This is just a scratch, Kwak’s just being too careful.”

“Are you being serious?” Mingyu scoffs at the younger, “I heard you in your room crying about how much it hurt still last night.”

“You bastard,” Soonyoung pouts, “Don’t you want me out there with you guys?”

“Oh, believe me, I do, Kwon.” Mingyu shakes his head, chuckling, “I just want you at your best. Not crying into your pillow because of a scratch. Even you heard him, right?” He looks to you for affirmation.

“HEY!” Soonyoung whines, you think he’s going to clamp his hand over Mingyu’s mouth but the older moves away before he can. “Don’t ask her! And can you try to keep your mouth shut for a little while?” Soonyoung then gives you a sideways glance as if to ask if you really had heard him complaining yesterday.

“...Your injury still hasn’t healed, Soonyoung.” You don’t explicitly admit that you heard his grumblings, even though you had. The band he normally wears with the Hwarang insignia hides the scar well, but without it, like he is now, it’s a stark reminder that he isn’t quite ready for the front lines again.

“Hm, you said you wanted to go with us if we ever got the orders, didn’t you?” Junhui interrupts the lull in the room as he asks you a question. “Are you still up for that?”

Even if you said that you’d join Junhui and Mingyu when you were out with them the other day, you thought you’d been joking, or half-joking at least. It would be risky if you did join them.

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t tag along,” Youngmin says with a nod of his head, “Opportunities for the Hwarang to move under Crown command alone are rare.” While he’s supposed to be the leader of the Hwarang, Kwak Youngmin was very easily swayed by his men’s words.

“What?” Soonyoung says, almost confused as he looks from Junhui to Mingyu. “If she’s going with you, then maybe it isn’t such a bad idea for me to tag along too, right?”

“You’re still not where you need to be,” Junhui says, nudging the other with his elbow gently, “Just stay here and heal up.”

“Are you sure it’s okay that I go with you?” You ask, still not fully convinced they want you tagging along with them.

The captain and colonel sigh at your reservations.

“We can’t promise that you won’t get injured, or worse.” Jihoon says, a distressed glint in his eyes as he speaks to you, “I think you should stay here.”

“Staying here would be an undue burden on the rest of us that stay,” Seungcheol argues back, “We’re not here to be a source of entertainment for you.”

“Seungcheol…” Hansol speaks up, “So, as long as she’s not being burdensome, she’s free to go with us?”

Is he standing up for you? It seems to be the case as Seungcheol looks at him in surprise, his eyes widening at the captain.

“You’re really in favor of taking her along with you?” The colonel asks, his brow furrowing as he tries to understand the rationale.

“She was an asset to us as Wonweol,” Hansol’s shoulders shrug, “Taking that into consideration, I hardly believe that she can be considered a ‘burden’, when recalling that.”

“Great!” Youngmin exclaims, relinquishing the two from their conversation as his hands clap together. “I’ll take full responsibility for your inclusion, that is, if you want to go with us.”

“Do whatever you want to do,” almost as if he can sense your hesitation, Seungkwan speaks up. The two of you make eye contact, and a smaller version of the smirk he almost always has plastered on his face curls to his lips. “Just as long as you know that this is a battle you’re going to, not a party.”

Maybe you’d be able to help them out as you had on the night of the raids. It was a strong maybe, but you couldn’t let that hinder your decision making, could you?

“I’d like to participate,” you find the words falling from your lips before you have the thought of saying them in the first place. Perhaps it was your subconscious speaking for what you truly want.

𝔄𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔰𝔱 24, 661 - 𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 (𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔅𝔞𝔢𝔨𝔧𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡) Entering the territory of the former kingdom is more eye opening to you than you had ever thought it would be. Rather than the calmness that had been exemplified by the King’s announcements back in Silla, there is an anxious tension wrought in the villages and towns as the Hwarang sweep through. Even though they were only passing by the inhabitants would warily gaze upon you, the captains, and the rest of the men as if to gauge how hostile their new countrymen would be.

The main goal is to reach Ongsan, a former Baekje fortress that stands on the border between the two Kingdoms. It seems as if the same group of loyalists from Seorabeol had taken over the now-emptied armament and claimed it as their headquarters. The Crown assigned the Hwarang the mission of expelling them, in a way of their gratitude for their performance on the night of the Wonweol and Jeolin Inn raids.

Judging from what the captains were saying this morning, it seems as if you’re not too far from your destination. You don’t know the layout of this land, the towns unfamiliar and the faces just as so.

For the most part, the men have been silent, only the odd gripe from one of the Hwarang. The absence of both Seungkwan and Soonyoung are notable, their voices seeming to fill in large gaps of silence when in attendance. It’s not until your troupe stops in front of a walled gate, presumably leading into a city, that Youngmin speaks up. Before the group stands a few other soldiers, from Silla by the looks of their armor.

“My name is Kwak Youngmin, leader of the Seorabeol Hwarang. I am here on orders from Kim Seokmin, an army general under His Majesty King Munmu.” He stands before an officer of the troupe that was already there.

Kim Seokmin is one of the most influential members of the Crown’s court. The father of Kim Mingyu and former Hwarang himself, he acquired favor from the kingship due to his efforts in a handful of Baekje rebellions in the decades prior.

The officer looks confused, his brow furrowing, “You were told to report here? Did you not meet with the men from Unghyeon?”

“Unghyeon?” You mouth the word in the same confusion the officer was expressing. It’s a Silla fortress some distance away from where you all stand now, it hadn’t been brought up in any conversation the Hwarang had had on their trek.

“Several generals and their troops were sent there to convene before the attack,” Hansol leans over to you and whispers, “If we were meant to meet with them, it’s most likely the message to tell us to do so was intercepted.”

“Does that mean they know we’re coming?” You ask quietly, looking around to the other captains to try and gauge what they’re thinking.

“It’s likely they’ve put the pieces together,” Hansol nods solemnly, “But I can’t imagine they have the numbers to rival both us and the other group.”

“This could still get messy, though,” you sigh, hoping the break in communication wouldn’t be but so impactful to the mission.

“Regardless of that, our aid has been formally requested,” Youngmin stands firm as he speaks to the officer, “If you could relay this to your commandi-”

“If that’s the case then I suggest you try and convene with the King’s garrison,” the officer states as he cuts off Youngmin, “We can’t let you in here because we have no idea what’s waiting on the other side.”

“Our orders say to stay stationed here,” Youngmin frowns, clearly frustrated with the lack of cooperation.

“There’s nothing we can do about this, Chief,” Hansol speaks up, stepping over to Youngmin. “If they won’t allow us access here, maybe it would be in our best interest to try and find the others.” It looks as if Hansol was going to suggest something else before Kangjoon interrupts.

“Find the others?” He shakes his head almost angrily, “Kim’s orders were to stay stationed here until we were signaled to enter the city. Why would we ignore a military command when we haven’t received anything to tell us to do otherwise? I think we should remain here on standby.”

“If this was a camp that we were stationed at, that might make sense, Suh.” Hansol states with a frown, “But this is, or very soon will be, the front lines of a battle.”

“Are you really trying to go against me?” Kangjoon nearly snarls back, the mere thought of someone going against his wishes enraging him, “Don’t forget that I’m the Hwarang’s War Counselor.”

“And I’m the leader,” Youngmin interjects, “Hansol’s made a good point. We’ll look for the other group’s camp and hopefully get a better understanding of the strategy at play.”

And with his words, the Hwarang begin to walk along the narrow pathway surrounding the fortress in search of the other group of generals and soldiers that are on their way from Unghyeon. Your group eventually finds the ally camp to the eastern front of the fortress, wooden spikes that had been hastily made surrounding it. A few soldiers come out to greet a few members of the Hwarang as you enter, they might be friends or family members who haven't seen each other in quite some time.

Almost as soon as you’d entered the camp, Youngmin is ushered into one of the tents to speak with a few generals. You’re not sure who’s in there, but with the pallid complexion of the Hwarang’s leader upon his exit, you can assume it had been higher ranks than he’d been expecting.

The orders are now to travel to the Southern Gate, the opposite end of where your original orders had been to go with a general and his troops.

“If these guys say anything, and I don’t think they will, just let me know, okay?” Junhui says as everyone begins to leave the encampment. “Park Kimsu’s not a friendly face around here.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, not noticing Mingyu saddling up beside you.

“What he means is, his father’s an enemy of my father,” Mingyu says, a gruffness to his voice as if he’s recalling something. “His father’s probably the one that sent the Watch out the night of the raids to try and take credit for what we did.”

“That and he’s a major prick,” Junhui adds, “I can’t imagine his men are much better.”

“Come on you guys,” Youngmin says as he slows his pace in front of you three, falling in line to your steps. “We can’t talk about them like that,” he contradicts his words by letting slip a sly smile for a few seconds before straightening his face and resuming his position at the front of the line.

By the time you all arrived and set up your small camp, night had fallen quickly, plunging the surrounding area into an inky black, save for the lights several fires dotted around the site provided. Youngmin, Jihoon and the captains had gone off to speak with Park Kimsu and his officers, leaving you and the rest of the Hwarang to sit around camp with little else to do.

They return what feels like hours later, their shoulders sagging and eyes looking tired as if they'd just run for that time instead of sitting in on a meeting. Eunseok, who had accompanied them, walks over to you with a small and lethargic smile.

“For the most part they’re being cooperative,” he sighs, “The only reason Kimsu was paired with us is because his father asked for it, though.”

“Why would he do that?” You ask a tilt of your head. Earlier, Mingyu has said that his and Kimsu’s families were something along the lines of enemies.

“I don’t know,” Eunseok shakes his head, “Maybe to rile us up? Regardless of that though, we’re here to watch over the gate and make sure no one escapes.”

“Regardless of that, they’re treating us like reserve troops,” Junhui’s voice is strained as he walks over, his arms high over his head as he stretches. Once he drops his arms down, he speaks up, “They’ve left smaller reserves around the South entrance because the biggest fight is going to happen at the North Gate.” He sounds a little disappointed, as if he were anticipating a big battle.

“We don’t know what they’ll do exactly,” Hansol says as he trails after him, “We may very well see battle.”

But that means waiting and seeing as the sun isn’t to rise for a long time, that means waiting overnight. As the crowds disperse and settle into their tents, you find that the Hwarang, at least, are sleeping in shifts so that if the call to arms were to come at night, there would be someone to rouse everyone else.

“You can rest your head on my shoulder if you need to,” Mingyu says as the two of you sit down to keep watch, the flames in front of you seem like they’re trying to lull you to sleep.

“I’m alright,” trying to stifle a yawn behind your hand as you shake your head. You’d feel wrong trying to sleep when you know these men could get called to face death at any moment.

A nervous anxiousness coils around your stomach until you find yourself falling asleep later in the night, not awaking until the sun’s barely peeking over the horizon. When you sit up from the laid down position you’d slept in, you notice that the men had kept a silent vigil all through the night. Even as you were drifting in and out of consciousness, you noted that there were men posted around the camp, looking for anything or anyone suspicious.

A little while later a large boom reverberates through the surrounding forest. You first think it’s a crack of lightning, or maybe the subsequent boom of thunder that succeeds it, but the sky is clear today, not a cloud in sight. It had echoed like thunder, startling the birds in the nearby trees, and causing more people than just you to jump in shock.

“What was that?” You question Hansol as he walks past you, seeming to look for someone coming in from outside of the camp.

“It looks like the main army is beginning to siege the fortress,” He says, his eyes narrowing as scans the tree-line. The soldiers and Hwarang within the camp are moving by now,

“Let’s get a move on!” Jihoon shouts out from somewhere deeper in the camp, his voice nearing as he continues to speak, “They’re not going to pause the fight until we get there, so get moving!”

“We were told to stay here,” Park Kimsu says as he emerges from his tent, probably stirred from the commotion outside. The general watches the scramble of men in the camp race for their weapons and armor for a moment before he turns to Jihoon, “You don’t command my men.”

“Our job is to siege the fortress, not sit on our asses and wait for this to pass by,” The commander bites back, he was almost yelling at the general. “We’re here to root out these loyalists, that won’t happen if we just stay here!”

“We haven’t even received orders to push!” Kimsu quips, his brow furrowing at the Hwarang.

“If you have any pride in your position, forget the damn orders and move your men,” Jihoon huffs, straightening the band around his forehead, “They aren’t going to willingly surrender.” The commander and general stare harshly at one another for a moment, almost as if they’re testing each other in a battle of wills. Jihoon, seeing as it was useless to try to neg the other any further, spins on his heels and begins to stalk off.

“Where are we going?” You whisper to Hansol as Jihoon passes by, muttering something to himself.

“To face the enemy head on,” He says quietly, “Which, in our case, means the Southern Gate. The main fight is meant to happen at the Northern Gate so I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to divide our numbers to get more support up there.”

“I see,” You nod, the same nervousness invading your veins once again, it was now riddled with an adrenaline that was probably the only thing making you think clearly.

Jihoon’s rage at the general seems to have roused the reserve troops, who now, instead of loitering around the camp, seem to be mostly readied up. Led by both Park Kimsu and Lee Jihoon, the army and the Hwarang march their way to the Southern Gate.

It was only a short trek to the destination, but the remains of skirmishes that seemed to have happened moments prior litter the ground. Soldiers, dead and dying, lay on the ground, chunks of wood from the gate lay in reddened splinters as arrows, both broken and intact, lay riddled where fragments of the gate’s doors once stood. The group that had come before you seems to have successfully made it into the city, but not without losses of their own. You can see both Baekje and Silla armor on the bodies of the fallen soldiers.

Even if you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what you might see, the reality of it all still shatters your heart.

Though the Baekje and Silla forces were nowhere to be seen, had your allies driven them further into the fortress? After a quick moment of assessment, Jihoon orders a few captains to investigate what happened, Youngmin sighing as he does so.

“Had we known a group of Silla warriors were coming in beforehand we would’ve joined them and lost fewer lives.” He frowns as he looks over the scene, looking up once he sees Hansol returning from his survey of the area.

“It looks like our forces attacked the gate earlier this morning, were repelled briefly before the flank on the Northern Gate began,” the captain recounts, looking to Jihoon, “After their forces were divided the army at the Southern Gate was able to advance into the fortress.”

“Do you have any word on what’s happening at the Northern Gate?” Jihoon questions, obviously beginning to silently plan a course of action.

“They’re still fighting,” Hansol nods, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as if he can tell what Jihoon’s thinking, “The King’s garrison has yet to advance into Ongsan.”

“Lee!” Mingyu shouts out as he returns from his own survey of the area, running from the direction of the pass to reach the stronghold. “There’s supposedly Baekje reinforcements coming from the west as well, not many, but enough to make a dent in our numbers if we let them.”

Jihoon’s expression of confidence wavers momentarily as he listens to Kim as he approaches, but before he can comment on it, Chan also races over to the group of captains from surveying inside of the fortress.

“Commander,” he starts off, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, glinting in the daylight now hanging overhead, “It’s believed that the men who led this are heading for the heart of the fortress to try and kill the loyalists trying to run for it.”

The commander thinks after listening to the cumulative reports, contemplating as to what the next move should be. Although Youngmin is the recognized formal leader of the Hwarang, you’d come to learn the most major decisions were given to Jihoon to make. This was no exception, the crowd of captains anticipating his orders while Kimsu was speaking with his own men of what to do next.

“It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Jihoon’s lips curve into a small smile after a moment of silence. “Kim, take your men to the pass to deal with any incoming loyalists. Lee, Choi,” he turns to Chan and Hansol, “follow the men into the fortress, but make sure to keep an ear out if Kim needs any reinforcements at the pass.”

There’s nods and affirmations from the captains and officer before the commander turns to Youngmin, “I’m sorry for giving you the hardest one, Chief. Can you speak with the higher ups back at the main camp about a punitive measure for the group that got here before us? As far as both Kimsu and I were aware they weren’t supposed to do that, and I’ll bet they’re doing more in there than just routing out the loyalists. If we’re to do anything about that then we’ll need the higher ups permission.”

While an independently run body from the Crown’s army or guard, the Hwarang still need permission to act under that guise of pseudo-Crown rule and dole out their justice.

“I’m sure I can do something about it, and if not me, my father,” Youngmin nods, a smile forming as he thinks it over. You’re not sure who Youngmin’s father is, but if his son is the leader of the Hwarang, his position in the Crown’s council must be higher than anyone else’s father in the organization. It would still be tricky to gain that permission with all of the Hwarang naysayers and adversaries within the council.

“Eunseok, can you go with him?” Jihoon asks and turns to their youngest member, “Someone has to keep an eye on him.”

“Of course,” He nods, “I’ll do my best.”

Jihoon smiles wryly at him before turning to the remaining Hwarang. “The rest of you are following me into the fortress and to the Northern Gate. As for you,” he looks directly at you, “You can’t go with Youngmin, but other than that it’s up to you.”

You know he doesn’t know where to place you. It’s not as if you’re one of the Hwarang he could command to a role and set you there. Maybe having you decide your own fate was a way to take the burden off his shoulders.

“I’ll go with you, then,” You say after a moment of contemplation. Along with Jihoon, a group of Hwarang, and a group of regular soldiers, you’ll race into Ongsan and try to open the Northern Gate for the King’s garrison to make way into the fortress by suppressing the loyalists inside.

The groups disperse shortly after, Mingyu and his men heading to the pass, Youngmin and Eunseok leaving for the main camp, Chan and Hansol leaving for the heart of the fortress, and then Jihoon and you making way to the Northern Gate from inside the fortress itself.

Jihoon, you and the group of soldiers accompanying you race through the fortress. Seeing it from the outside had hidden how expansive it is on the inside, large courtyards and twisting hallways have your mind running in circles as you slowly run out of breath. You come upon another seemingly empty courtyard before stopping in your tracks. There was someone standing in the middle of it, someone wearing neither Silla nor Baekje armor. In fact, they are dressed more like a noble than a fighter.

The sun is shining so harshly onto the courtyard as you approach that it’s hard to get a good look at his face. It’s obscured in the sunlight and the light yellow of his robes and the glinting silver of a blade in his hand is doing little to help that. There’s a strange aura surrounding him, almost as if he's waiting for something to happen.

Jihoon, perceptive to that, motions for everyone to stop before encroaching on the character. The Hwarang stop in their tracks, save for one man too eager or arrogant to follow the commander’s orders and charges towards the figure with his sword out. The stranger seems to have only waved his arm once before the Hwarang falls to the ground, the dull sound of his body hitting the stone below echoing around the courtyard, the clangor of battle raging in the distance.

“What the hell?!” Junhui shouts out, shoving his way through the throng of Hwarang and over to the fallen man. The man’s unresponsive, a thick pool of blood beginning to stain the ground under him. The rest of the men, first taken aback by the stranger, now glare at him for the loss of their comrade.

“You’re Hwarang, aren’t you?” The stranger speaks up, his blade tapping against the agate stone of the walkway, “I can tell because of those blue robes of yours.” He sighs out, “A bunch of pretty nobles playing soldier, aren’t you all old enough to know to stop playing pretend?”

The man’s words are enough to make the already on-edge men agitated. Egged on by the harsh ridicule of someone they’d only just come upon. Each Hwarang, either noble or not, had their reason for joining. Taking their choice into question was cruel and that was clearly painted on their faces now.

“First, you ruin my plans at Wonweol and now you’re trying to play hero,” They snicker, “You’re not even real soldiers, are you?” His gaze travels down to the fallen Hwarang momentarily before lazily and almost arrogantly meeting Jihoon’s eyes, “I’d turn back if I were you, unless you want to end up like your friend here.”

“You’re the swordsman who beat Seungkwan at Wonweol?” Jihoon asks, the tension in the air thick and palpable as he speaks. “I heard you were quite good, but these are pretty big words coming from such a small man.” The smile on the commander’s face is anything but amicable.

“And I heard that you all were talented, for what you are, but this sorry display is telling me otherwise.” The now adversary snickers, once again glancing at the dying, or maybe he was already dead, Hwarang. “The man I fought at the inn, his name is Seungkwan? It’s a bit of a stretch to call him a real swordsman.”

You know from watching the men train that Seungkwan is skilled with a sword, but he had been injured by this man. Is his prowess with a blade more prolific than the Hwarang captain’s?

“Insult Boo all you want,” Junhui stands from the body of the crumpled soldier to face the stranger, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip. “But why did you kill this man?” The hiss of the steel leaving the sheath cries out as he tears it from the scabbard, the captain’s teeth baring. “If I don’t like your answer then I won’t hesitate to tear you down right here.”

“How prideful,” you can almost hear him roll his eyes, “The king says for you to ‘Jump’ and you say, ‘How high?’. Why are you chasing after men who’ve deserted their own movement? Or are you trying to let your own men in at the Northern Gate? Either way, your combatants are going to kill themselves before they’ll let you take this place by full force.”

You glance at Jihoon and the men around him, not even one looking as if the other’s words were outlandish. It seems as if the man in front of you had stopped your assault on the fortress to spare the pride of the Baekje loyalists. From the stranger’s point of view, you can understand what he was doing and why he feels right about it. But that gave him no right to slay one of the Hwarang.

“Is taking someone’s life for the sake of another’s pride just?” You speak up, distraught from this situation entirely, “The only one who can save your pride is you, not letting that responsibility fall into someone else’s hands.”

A grin splits onto the other’s face, “There’s some truth in that, I suppose. Are you saying that I should let the Hwarang demolish any pride these men have just to simply gain favor with the Crown?” Despite the curvature of his lips, his voice is not amused.

“That’s not what I…” The reddish-brown tint of his eyes scrutinizes you as you try to justify yourself, quickly falling away with the harshness of his demeanor.

“Here I was, thinking you were trying to say something intelligent,” Jihoon steps in once your voice trails off, “but you’re just acting like a child. This is war, not a council meeting debating ethics!”

“What did you just say?” Knuckles turning white with the newfound grip on his blade, the stranger questions accusingly at Jihoon.

“The loyalists started a fight knowing their kingdom had been defeated already, and now they’re running away in shame because they’re too cowardly to face the consequence of their actions,” Jihoon argues, a heated tone to his words, “They don’t deserve honor! They’re traitors to their new kingdom by trying to incite a rebellion, you think that deserves an honorable death?”

“Then you mean that they should’ve been prepared to die for their cause when they started this battle?”

“Anyone who starts a fight for a cause they aren’t willing to die for doesn’t know what it means to be a warrior.” Jihoon states, his hand hovering over the hilt of his own sword. “If they have an ounce of pride left in them, wouldn’t dying by your enemy’s hand while trying to stop them be better than falling onto your own sword?”

Jihoon’s own conception of honor and pride aren’t something he can compromise easily, having been ingrained into him at an early age. But even then, you can tell that even if he and the stranger spoke for hours, they would never understand each other’s points of view. The commander finally draws his weapon, Junhui dropping into a fighting stance when he does so. Before either of the two do anything, Jihoon whispers something hastily under his breath that causes Junhui to relent his stance, sheath his weapon, and step back into the group of Hwarang.

“You don’t seem like a coward,” Jihoon states, “So are you ready to accept the consequences of what happens when you kill one of my men?”

“Those are some big words,” The stranger says as he raises his sword from his lax position, the gore from the fallen Hwarang still clinging to the blade, “Do you really think you can defeat me?”

The answer isn’t verbal, but a ringing sound as their blades meet. They step back from one another, Jihoon’s grip tightening on his sword as he glares at the other. Now, the commander’s skill seems unrivaled but the thought that this stranger had beaten Seungkwan, the Hwarang’s best swordsman, lingers in the back of your mind as you watch.

Next to you, you can see Junhui reaching for his own sword. If he were to leap into the fight, it would most certainly help Jihoon gain the upper hand.

“You can’t,” you say and reach out, your hand falling onto his forearm before he turns to look at you. Meeting and fighting with this stranger aren’t why you and the Hwarang are here. The mission is to aid the forces at the Northern Gate. It isn’t any question whether this man was an enemy, a dangerous one, at that.

Even if Jihoon can’t defeat him, he would never let the Hwarang abandon their mission, especially after his speech.

Junhui turns away from you and watches the two men clash for a moment more, gritting his teeth and finally pulling his hand away from his sword. “Lee, I’m going to take your men for a second if that’s okay with you!”

“Just go already, loudmouth!” Jihoon says as he once again falls away from the stranger, “They’re all yours!”

“Alright!” Junhui calls out and turns to the men, “We’re heading for the Northern Gate, run straight there and don’t stop until those Baekje bastards have been put in their place!”

The soldiers roar with a renewed vigor and begin to follow the captain.

The stranger huffs something out as he watches the men run off, his hand clenching his sword as if he’s about to follow them.

“You’re not fighting them, so pay attention,” Jihoon calls out to pull the stranger’s focus back to him. “If you don’t, I’ll cut you down from behind instead.”

“Don’t get in my way!” The stranger shouts, bringing his sword down to meet Jihoon’s, the swing causing Jihoon to reel back once receiving it.

Now that there was more of a distance between the two, the stranger’s gaze once again travels to Junhui and the running Hwarang. You think for a moment to stop running with the men and try to stand your ground with Jihoon, but relent after a moment, continuing to go further on with the rest of the troops.

“Keep running!” Jihoon calls out, closing the distance between himself and the stranger, positioning his sword upwards once more.

“You don’t even know your limit,” The stranger scoffs.

You stop for a moment, finding yourself unable to keep up with the men. Looking back to the fray, you part your lips and shout out, “We’ll see you at the Northern Gates!” Leaving Jihoon without a word felt… wrong, so you yell out the not-so-subtle words of encouragement as you depart once more. “Come back to us in one piece!”

Jihoon almost laughs at this, devolving it into a small chuckle as his gaze narrows at his adversary. “Who do you think I am?” A cocksureness riding along his words as you run past, only hoping that he would survive the encounter.

By the time you and the rest of the Hwarang make it to the Northern Gates, it seems as if the King’s garrison has broken through already. There’re skirmishes happening all around the entrance but are soon quelled by the introduction of the Hwarang into the fight. Jihoon hadn’t arrived as the battles wane to a close and the sun begins to sink down into the sky. Several higher ups order a few of the captains to look for any remaining loyalists in the compound, leaving you to stand and wait for a sign of the commander or a returning captain.

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” a voice says to your right. You’re met with the face of Officer Jeon, or Wonwoo as you’ve come to learn. Like Chan, he acts as a spy for the Hwarang but typically deals with Yamato forces, but he had accompanied the men to Ongsan this time, only showing how much more this mission meant to the Hwarang. “I know they will.”

You can only nod your head in response and scan the area, looking for one of the faces you hope on seeing return. Every passing moment feels like an eternity, slowly inching by as the sun sinks lower and lower into the sky.

It’s dusk when you see a figure emerge from the depths of the fortress, the darkening sky obscuring most of their features, but as they near the now lit courtyard you stand in, you can see that it’s a familiar face.

“Commander!” You shout out and race over to him, relief flooding your system.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Wonwoo says, following closely behind you as you stop in front of Jihoon. “It doesn't even look like you’ve been hurt.”

In the light of the fires, you can see that the Hwarang hadn’t been injured, but he wears a dark expression over his face.

“I hoped we would have a real fight, but it looks like it was over almost as soon as you all arrived,” he frowns, “held up by a Hwarang opposer, no less.”

“Who was he?” Wonwoo asks, tilting his head slightly.

“His name is Hong Jisoo. I don’t know if his father’s a part of the council or if he’s just a lackey under one of them, but he’s clearly very anti-us.”

“But if he’s still working under Silla rule, why did he try to stop us from going after Baekje?” You question, confused by the swordsman’s actions, weren’t both sides there to stop the loyalists? Something about this isn’t settling right with you. “Does that mean he was betraying Silla?”

“I don’t know about that, but I do think he was trying to stop us from getting here,” Jihoon sighs out, closing his eyes as if to recall the situation, “The soldiers who broke us up were also confused by whatever game he was trying to play. But they didn’t try to command him to do anything after we’d stopped fighting, so he must mean something to them.”

“He must have some notoriety in their ranks, then,” Wonwoo muses.

“He’s a lazy piece of shit who uses his rank or his money to do whatever he wants, more like,” Jihoon says with a bitter edge to his voice. “If he flaunts that around he has no right to try and teach me what his definition of pride is.”

Before Jihoon can ramble and rant about Jisoo, Junhui and the detachment of men he’d left with returns to the battle site. Junhui stops for a moment upon seeing the commander before breaking out into a large grin. The smile doesn’t last long though as he approaches, the curvature of his grin turning downwards.

“We found a few runaways, but they were already dying or dead by the time we got there.” At Junhui’s words you feel your heart drop. It’s not that you were sad that the loyalists were dead or that the Hwarang hadn’t been able to capture any one of them, only that more lives had been lost in the conflict.

“Honorable suicide, then?” Jihoon nods, not sounding angry at the result. “Good for them.”

“Good?” You ask without thinking, how is that ‘good’? Only hours prior the commander was trying to stop the loyalists from succeeding in that mission, but now that it’s been done he’s lauding them.

“You don’t understand,” the commander says and looks towards you. “As Hwarang, this isn’t good for us. We failed and let them kill themselves. They’re dead, what good would it be for me to ignore what they’ve done? It doesn’t matter if they’re an enemy or my friend, a man who dies with his honor intact deserves at least some respect.”

“I guess that makes some sense…” You mutter, not fully understanding the reasoning or what he was trying to convey.

His expression softens slightly, “The longer you stay with us, the more you’re likely to understand our mindset.”

Now that this group has come back together, you make your way to the campsite to meet with the rest of the Hwarang you’d parted ways with that morning.

The event of the loyalist takeover of Ongsan and their eventual expulsion from the fortress comes to be known as the Ongsan Rebellion to the citizens of Silla. And while the Hwarang had been called to action, their efforts were stymied with unforeseen circumstances and were able to find little in the way of gaining major approval with the Crown. Communication with the King’s garrison and the army alongside him had been poor and much of the Hwarang’s time had been spent waiting for battle with the rest of the reserve troops.

And even when they were called to arms, the Hwarang found a strange opponent at every turn:

Hong Jisoo, who had defeated Seungkwan at Wonweol, had claimed to be a member of the pro-Watch camp of the council during his encounter with Jihoon. It still isn’t determined who his family is and why his stance is so firmly against the Hwarang.

Hwan Minhyun, the man who had injured Soonyoung at Wonweol was also in attendance at the battle. While little more is known about him, he had claimed to be in allegiance with Hong Jisoo.

And then there was Xu Minghao, who also fought along with the prior two men with little mention of his full allegiance.

Whoever these men are, it’s clear to see that they’re no allies of the Hwarang. In fact, it seems as if they’re set to become one of their greatest enemies.

The battle claimed the lives of thousands of men, the king ordering his garrison to behead any survivors they found. Even then, some Baekje loyalists were able to escape westward, further into the territory that used to be their homeland. With the end of the Ongsan Rebellion, the king passes an edict labelling any man that fought alongside the Baekje loyalists to be branded a traitor in the eyes of the Crown and an enemy of the court.

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 8𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 With the events of the raid on Wonweol Inn and the Ongsan Rebellion taking place within only a few short weeks of one another, it was causing a certain unrest to take hold within citizens of Silla. The Hwarang are doing their best to double up on their work to make citizens feel protected, but with the return of most of the Guard and Watch, it’s difficult for them to receive missions as big as the raids and rebellion had been. And even if they are assigned a task, the Crown overworks them, seemingly wanting to bleed them dry.

The Crown’s approval of any of their missions spreads them thin, even with the newer recruits they’d received from Podang and Gochang, it isn’t enough to keep an appropriate amount of people to instill peace. After many long and arduous meetings, it’s decided that Soonyoung, to slowly introduce him back into his role after his injury, will travel to Hanseong, one of Silla’s northernmost cities, to do preliminary scouting for future recruits.

The burning sun hits your face as Youngmin and you see Soonyoung off, a bag slung around his shoulder having been packed the night prior.

“I’ll be on my way now,” The Hwarang nods at the two of you, “Make sure no one gets in trouble while I’m away!”

“I’ll try my best,” you smile at him. His presence would be missed at the headquarters, even if the other men didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Find us a solid list of men, it doesn’t matter if they’re nobles or not,” Youngmin notes, putting his hand under his chin for a moment. “But seeing as it’s Gochang, you might encounter more nobles there than usual. I’ll join you there next month to see who you’ve recruited.”

“Isn’t there someone who you’re looking for?” You turn to Youngmin, “I remember you mentioning someone once.”

“Oh, did we not tell you?” Youngmin sounds a tad miffed, “His name is Kim Gongmyung. Classically trained and the rumor is that he’s very well versed in strategy.”

“To be honest, I haven’t met him but only once or twice,” Soonyoung relents, “But at the least I’m sure he’ll let me speak to him.”

“That’s all we need,” Youngmin nods with a small smile, “His father’s on our side in the king’s council, and if we approach him kindly, I’m sure it’ll be within his interest to help us.” The leader seems confident just by his facial expression, but there’s an air of unsureness coming from the Hwarang.

“Alright, I’m going!” He lets that discontentment fall from his features seconds later, nodding his head before speaking. Soonyoung then turns to you, “I’ll do my best to find any information on Heo while I’m there, so just hang on until I get back!”

“Be careful!” You call out to him as he turns on his heels, bounding out from the main hall and towards the exit. As you watch him leave, and the smaller he seems to get the further he is from you and Youngmin, the melancholier you feel. Youngmin looks different though, a small smile residing on his face as he watches the Hwarang set out. “You look excited, are you thinking of all the new members you’re getting?”

“Of course, seeing out numbers increase is great. Even more so if they’re strong and able,” He says as Soonyoung finally disappears outside of the main entrance.

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 27𝔱𝔥, 661 - 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Time passes quickly after Soonyoung’s departure. So fast that the date of Youngmin’s departure for Hanseong arrives with little resistance. The morning before he’s meant to depart, you find him standing in one of the compound’s courtyards, quietly watching the wind pass through the leaves overhead.

“Is everything alright?” You ask as you approach him quietly, not wanting to startle him.

“Hm, oh, hello,” he looks at you with a small smile, “I’m alright, are you doing okay?”

“I am,” you nod, “I’m just thinking about how you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I see,” he says with a short chuckle, “I can’t leave Soonyoung alone for too long, can I? Who knows what sort of trouble he’s already found himself in?”

“I’m sure your absence here is going to affect the men like Soonyoung’s is,” you sigh out, already knowing the feeling of having such a pivotal character of the captains gone for nearly a month now. Youngmin is the Hwarang’s leader. If anything, this will be a larger blow than Soonyoung’s departure.

“It’s only a month,” he tries to reassure you, “I’ve been gone for longer before. And besides, Jihoon will make sure everything runs smoothly while I’m away.” Youngmin probably isn’t aware that his kindness and Soonyoung’s strange but bright personality were things that kept you mentally intact day after day here. With both absent from the headquarters, you’re not sure what kind of emotional blow it’ll have on you.

Your discontentment with the situation must have placated itself on your face because Youngmin looks at you now with a sad, small smile.

“Is there anything you want me to bring back for you?” He questions in hopes that it might make you feel better, “I’m going to stop in Toehwa-hyeon on my way back, did you want a memento from your hometown?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, grateful for his offer, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” Youngmin pushes a little more, “If there’s anything I can do for you, and as long as it’s within my power, I will.” You don’t want to ask any more of him, he’s so accommodating already that you’d just feel wrong in asking him to bring you something.

“There is one thing…” You pause for a moment, “Could you train me?”

“Are you-?” Youngmin’s brow furrows as he thinks of your statement, “Are you talking about fighting?”

“I am,” you nod quickly.

“Oh no… I think that would be a bad idea,” he sounds cautious, tentative, “I get really aggressive when I teach, if I ended up injuring you, I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself.”

“I see…” You probably sound defeated, your shoulders shrugging downwards at his words.

“But that statement came out of nowhere… Did you have a reason for asking?”

“If I’m going to help watch over Shoshin while you’re gone, I want to be able to instead of hiding while everyone else puts in the effort.”

Youngmin chuckles nervously at that sentiment, “But you’re not one of the warriors, so I doubt you’d ever have to raise your sword to an enemy.”

“You’re right, but I still want to be able to protect myself if something were to happen,” you insist gently, trying to sound as reasonable as possible.

Youngmin mulls it over for a moment before perking up into a smile, “Well, if that’s the case, I’d love to teach you a few things.”

The leader runs around for a moment, returning to you with a pair of practice swords and two cords so you can tie up your sleeves without getting hindered by them. Rather than use the traditional wooden practice swords of the Hwarang, Youngmin’s opted for the lighter bamboo variant as to not accidentally injure you with the splintery cousin.

“Let’s start,” he says as he stands beside you, his own bamboo sword raised outwards. “I’ll warn you though, the style we teach at the Kwak school and the Hwarang are a little… arduous.”

“I’m ready,” you state firmly and raise your own bamboo sword out to the open space in front of you.

“Then let’s begin with your stance,” he says, looking towards your feet with a scrutinizing gaze, “You mentioned you’d trained before, right?”

“It was mostly for self-defense, but I was taught how to use the blade I have with me,” you say as you look down to your feet, trying to position them correctly.

“Then I won’t have to worry about teaching you a new form,” he notes, “Just get into the stance you’re most comfortable with.”

With the smooth grip of the practice sword in hand, you fall back into the stance you have memorized from all your practice sessions. Your hold on the hilt of the weapon tightens as you await instruction.

“Too weak!” Youngmin shouts out, different from the calm tone his voice typically carries. “If someone’s coming from your front to attack you, the first thing they’ll reach is your sword and your arm. Tighten your grip more or they’ll knock the sword right out of your hand, be wary of that.”

“Okay!” You nod and try to hold onto the sword even tighter, the knuckles on your hand beginning to ache with the strain. It was somewhat endearing to know that he isn’t treating you any differently because you’re a girl.

“Now you’re holding on too tight,” he notices the tremble from the overworked muscles of your hand, watching the fake blade quiver in the air. “Because you’ll be a bit weaker than most you’ll ever fight against, you should try your best to avoid someone attacking you from the front. To do that you’ll need to dodge or redirect the blow from their sword, but since you’re holding onto it so tightly…”

You’re not sure how much time has passed since Youngmin had begun his instruction, but the sun is hanging low in the sky now as you try and retain everything, he’s been teaching you.

“It’s getting late.” He muses after you finish swinging the sword for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s cause enough for you to look up at the reds, oranges and purples that are beginning to saturate the sky. And almost as if you’re pulled from your training, fatigue sets into your bones and causes you to collapse to your knees. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, clothes dampened with sweat, your breath hollow as you try to suck in more air than your lungs allow you.

Youngmin looks over to you as you collapse, his stern expression from training you softening to one of concern. “I’m sorry!” He says, a panicked tone overtaking him, “I got so into it that I pushed you way too hard!”

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, offering him a weak smile, “You ended up teaching me like that even though I’m not your student, thank you.”

“I see,” he doesn’t sound fully convinced, but the worried edge to his voice subsides a bit, “If that’s how you feel then I’m glad I could help.” His face holds a mixture of guilt and hesitation, though, “I am sorry, I haven’t fully trained someone in years, and I suppose I went a little overboard.”

“You mean before you became the Hwarang’s leader?” You ask as you shakily rise to your feet.

“Right,” he nods with a nostalgic smile, “Jihoon, Seungkwan, and Eunseok all attended my family’s school. Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Junhui and Mingyu joined us afterwards, Hansol never fully joined but would stop by often. We don’t have time for it now, but we used to test our skills out against each other nearly every day.”

The topic of the ‘old days’ often came up when the captains were tipsy or drunk on their alcohol. Youngmin’s father had been high up in the Crown’s council when he was alive, but later left to start up his own fighting school, much like Lee Alcheon had done.

“All of that training must’ve been tough,” you wonder aloud.

“It was,” Youngmin nods in agreement, “But it was fulfilling, in a different way than what our work is now.” He gazes off into nothing as he reminisces, causing a pang of envy to invade you for a moment.

“Earlier you said you weren’t my student,” Youngmin speaks up, looking at you, “Since I am technically a master of my family’s school, and I spent today training you… I think that more or less makes you a disciple of the style as well. That would make you a student like a few of the captains.”

His words cause a smile to break out on your face, “Thank you.” Obviously, it isn’t an official method, and it was hardly a full day’s worth of instruction, but it made an unbridled happiness bubble within you. “I’m so grateful for what you’ve taught me today.”

enjoy what you read? leave a comment! it helps with motivating us writers to keep producing content for our lovely readers ❤

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #woozi x reader #woozi smut #woozi x you #jihoon x you #jihoon fluff #jihoon angst #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut

42 notes · View notes

abhainnwhump · 9 months

Text

IMYM Chapter 12: Make Me Your Masterpiece: Ink

(Content warnings: Self harm, creepy/intimate bathing, doll whump, starvation, humiliation, forced crossdressing, Nightmare continuing to be a creepy shit biscuit. Also, happy 1 day late birthday to him and Dream.) <- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

Ink stared at the wall as still as a rock, not even blinking. That way, he could daydream about colors and scenery, keeping him out of the white space. Also because he couldn’t move. Yep, he ran out of emotions for too long and lay as a paralyzed husk.

At first, after he screamed and cried, he killed time by pacing and drawing invisible designs on the floor. He punched the wall once in a while, which might have not even been the one he came in. They all looked the same and all it did was hurt his knuckles. Even though he never saw them, he knew someone was checking in on him. Someone was feeding him water and unseasoned white rice. On a white plate of course. It cost too much in the budget to give him color. It gave him energy, but the amount was always too small to satisfy his hunger.

Ink was so sickof white. He was sick of the silence and the loneliness. He wanted someone to hug him or hold his hand. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone, or at least give his bored mind something to do. You could only talk to yourself in so many different voices before you run out of conversation ideas. Then he remembered the mud from the fall, still stuck to his bones. Brown!

Unfortunately, the dirt and grime from his fall were so caked on that he couldn’t scrape it off. The artist’s desperation for any other color drove him to scratch his arms until they bled. It hurt but also felt good in a weird way. The black blood was a relieving change. Ink used it as paint to make pictures. He drew a messy version of the Doodlesphere’s islands. Damn, he missed it. It was so colorful, unlike his stupid cell. Once he ran out of pigment and didn’t want to destroy his arms anymore, he started daydreaming. Since getting paralyzed, he was stuck right next to a puddle of his sticky black blood. He couldn’t even teleport through the liquid. His escape was so close, but he couldn't move a nonexistent muscle.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? Months? It wasn’t like he had a calendar or a clock. Nope, don’t think too hard about that. He used up his panic and only felt numb.

Ugh. None of this would be happening if he just did as he was told! It would have been so easy too. It was his fault he was in here. At least, that’s what Nightmare said. His words kept replaying in his head.

You don’t think anyone cares if you’re missing, do you?

Even if I did love you, that doesn’t mean you can do whatever your selfish empty heart desires.

You’re an easy puppet.

They were all he could think about. He might never see the sun again because of his stupidity. Worthlessness. Pride. Immaturity.

He deserved this, didn’t he?

The artist knew people didn’t like him. Error, Cross, Fell, and the countless other souls he’s pissed off over the years. Even the original Sans didn’t like him. He always brushed them aside as being jealous. Usually, he would rant to one of his friends and get their opinion, but they weren’t around. Not like they cared, he doubted it.

He should’ve been angry. Nightmare was the guy who threw him in here after all, but he wasn’t. Ink was mad at himself, or he would be if he could feel anything.He was lucky to be with Nightmare and he screwed it up.

Like you screw up everything else?

Shut up!

Ink groaned. Great. He was hollow, hungry, bored, and hating himself. No one has checked on him since he lost his emotions. Maybe he wasn’t useful anymore and was left to starve to death. Was it even possible for him to starve to death? Who cares. He just wanted to get out of and stay out of this room. He’d trade anything for it. Even if he had to sell his nonexistent soul to be a servant or something. Unknown to him, he did.

“Do you understand my reason for doing this?”

Ink cringed at the voice. It was soft-spoken but sounded like a megaphone when he was used to never-ending silence. Nightmare leaned on the left wall, arms crossed and tendrils swaying. He looked sympathetic and regretful, but Ink doubted it was sincere. Something was off about him, but he couldn't put his finger on it . . .

Ink stared straight ahead, but would’ve rolled his emotionless white eye lights if he could. Because you’re a dick?

The dark king propped him up into a sitting position like a toy doll. His tendrils prodded at and caressed his cheekbone. “It’s because when I took you in, I didn’t take wet clay. I bought a pot. Finished, but so cracked and chipped that it didn’t even resemble proper pottery, more like a child’s art project. However, you were salvageable. I just needed to break you first, then the dust could be rebuilt into something beautiful.” He raised a browbone at Ink’s dazed eyes. “And it seems I’ve started the first step quite well. Better than expected.”

Nightmare reached into his pocket and pulled out a colorful vial, swishing it around. If Ink wasn’t paralyzed, he would’ve squealed in joy. Nightmare pried open his mouth. Ink gagged at the feeling of his fingers as he poured the bottle down his throat. His left arm shuddered, then he regained control of his body with a gasp. Licking the last specks of pink and green paint from his face, he looked up at Nightmare with a new mix of emotions. Fear, guilt, regret, anger, relief, but stronger than any of those, love. Ink shot into his arms, clinging to his suit jacket and forcing his head into his chest. Bitter apples never smelt so good after smelling nothing for who knows how long.

Nightmare stiffened in shock. Cautiously, he caressed the back of Ink’s skull, which he melted into. Affection. Sweet, sweet affection. He’d never take gentle touch for granted ever again. The dark king chuckled. “Well, who knew all it took was some alone time to make you so sweet.”

Ink kept hugging him. He was so relieved to finally have someone next to him that he worried this was a dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Quiet down, I forgive you.” Nightmare cuddled Ink close, rubbed circles on his back, and kissed his foreskull. Something in Ink felt wrong, but he dismissed it as touch starvation. The kiss and cuddle satisfied it. “I was thinking a lot while you were in here and I realized . . . you were right. I was a little too harsh on you. I didn’t mean what I said about you being worthless. I’ve been neglecting you and your needs for too long, that’s my fault. I’ll take part in some more one-on-one time so I can . . .” He removed Ink’s arms from his sides and held them up, eyeing the mess of frantic claw marks. It wasn’t until now that he noticed the dried puddle of blood on the ground and Ink. “. . . you’re bloody. Again.”

Ink hung his head. “Look, I couldn’t take it anymore. The whiteness was driving me crazy; I needed some color.”

Nightmare nodded in thought. His eye twitched a bit. “Understandable, but nothing of mine is going to be kept in such poor condition. If you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll start you a warm bath and I'll give you a second chance, okay?”

Oh, that sounded great right now. Ink didn’t take baths that often (he didn’t see the point), but he was so worn out and messy that he would welcome it. “I learned my lesson. I’ll never leave your side again, I got it! Don't ever lock me in here ever again!”

“As long as you play nice, I won’t need to. And believe me, I don’t wish to use this room again.” He took Ink’s hand and brought them standing. “I hope you understand why I did this. You learn best from punishment. And you needed to learn not to disobey. Do you forgive me?”

Ink paused. Did he? He was starved,abandoned, and he triggered his worst trauma. Ink looked back up at Nightmare's face and his soft smile, and he knew immediately what to say.

“I . . . yeah. I forgive you!”

Nightmare beamed. “Excellent.” He led him out of the room.

Ink’s senses exploded at the change of scenery. He was aware of every loud plunk of water or blood, whatever it was. The smell of rot and death made him gag. The dungeon was a dark aquaish-green, but the color change was still too hard on his eye sockets. Not that he wasn’t happy being free, he just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

Nightmare noticed his problem. “Here, close your eyes. I’ll guide you. You can trust me."

The artist hesitated before a fuzzy surge of love filled his chest. He squeezed Nightmare’s hand, putting all his trust in him. He made a hum of contentment and led him out of the dungeon. His tendrils nudged him in the right direction whenever he was about to hit something.

Weird, it was like their fight didn’t happen. Nightmare was almost the same way he was in that first month. It didn’t even feel real. Like all that was a bad dream. And Ink would have believed it to be if he wasn’t so shaken up. But they were starting over, everything would be okay now.

Ink almost crashed into him when Nightmare stopped. “You can open your eyes now. We're at your room . . . my dear."

Ink peeked out one first and soon opened the other. His room was dark and quiet enough to not overstimulate him. He stepped inside and buried himself in his blankets. He missed his bed.

“Wait here and I’ll arrange that bath for you.” Nightmare pecked him on the cheek. The artist smiled, but then he looked around. Something was missing . . .

“Where’s my scarf?”

Nightmare’s expression changed to that sympathetic guilt again. “Ah, your scarf . . . it was disposed of. You won’t need it anymore. It was hideous anyways.”

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned down. Ink loved his scarf. He didn’t say it out loud, but it hurt losing it. And worse, Nightmare didn’t give him a heads-up. He wished he did.

“I’ll be back.” Nightmare left the room. Ink lay back on his bed. His eye lights wandered to nothing in particular, but something caught his attention. The parasol wasn’t in his room before. Huh?

He walked over to it and ran his hand down the black pole. Ignoring the superstition about never opening an umbrella indoors, Ink opened it. It was all white with a pink border. The middle had stitched roses, hearts, and bows. It was soft too.

Ink picked it up. It was lighter than he expected, even though it was as tall as he was. He practiced swinging it around. Despite the cutesy look, the top was freakishly sharp, and Ink had to be careful so he didn’t knock anything over. Or hurt himself. It was in a diamond shape and all the sides were sharp as a knife.

“I see you found your new weapon.”

Ink jumped and nearly hit Nightmare in the face. He laughed in the entryway, tracing his finger on the soft part under the point. “I couldn’t have you go weaponless now, could I? I was considering giving you a knife, but that was too cliche. This was much cuter and it will fit your new role, you'll enjoy this."

“Thanks!" Ink grinned. "Quick question, why is it pink? I'm not complaining, but I don't get why you gave me a pink parasol of all weapons?”

Nightmare kept touching the designs, looking Ink over. “Because that’s your favorite color. You love pastel colors. White, blue, and purple, but pink is your favorite. Don’t you remember?”

Ink’s fight or flight senses tingled. Something about his tone sounded unnerving, predatory almost. But despite that, he couldn’t stop himself from talking. “I don’t have a favorite color because I like them all. But if I had to choose, I’d pick brown because it’s all the colors mixed toge-”

Nightmare shook his head. “No. Are you going to argue with me further or are we going to clean you up?”

The artist held his mouth slightly open for a minute before laying the parasol down. He sighed. “Alright, you clean me up.”

Nightmare wrapped a tendril around Ink’s hand and pulled him over to him, tripping him. Ink looked up at him. Why did he look so excited? Why was he cute when he looked excited?

He took him down the hall without a single word. Ink tried to remember where this was. The hallways all blended together in his head. Eventually, he stopped at a large brown door, close to his bedroom. “I hope you like bubbles.”

Nightmare opened the door to the master bath. The room was a decent size with a cream-tiled floor and peanut-brown brick walls. The left side of the room held a fancy dark wood sink with a white counter. Something wrapped in brown paper and beige string sat at the edge of it. A circular bathtub was built on the floor and surrounded by brown curtains with yellow cords. A silver showerhead was on the wall, the kind where you can remove the handle. Bottles of soap and scrub brushes lined the corner of the barrier. Lavender bubbles and steam covered the top of the water.

Ink was immediately wracked with guilt. “Nightmare, it’s amazing, but . . . you didn’t need to do all this.”

“Pampering you is my choice. So what if you don’t deserve it? We’ll discuss how you will." Nightmare gestured to the bathtub. "Now, take those filthy clothes off and get in.”

Ink was a little uncomfortable, but he did as he asked and stripped down. Once he removed hisshirt, he noticed the weird look on Nightmare’s face. He was staring, fascinated by his swirling black tattoos. “Uhm, what?”

“You’ve never told me you hid so much beauty. I believed you only had those markings on your arms and legs. Where did you get them?”

Ink blushed with rainbow freckles, flustered. “Funny story. I was born with them, so I guessed it was a normal skeleton thing. I asked Blue if I could see his and he was so confused. Dream didn't know either. Error said it was code from when I was stuck in the void."

Nightmare nodded along and hummed, but he wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the box on the sink. "Interesting . . ."

Once Ink was undressed, he lowered himself into the bathtub. The burning water shocked his system; he squeaked. Nightmare laughed and pushed him the rest of the way in. He took the brush and showerhead and used the latter to rinse water over his skull. Hot! Hot! Hot!

“Relax, I’ll take care of you,” Nightmare said as Ink shifted around. His cold hands were the opposite of the water. He probably didn’t mean to make the water so hot. It was an accident. “You only need to move when I tell you to. Like now, raise your right arm.”

Ink did as he asked and Nightmare cleaned his cuts. He made the disinfecting slow and gentle, pouring water over them to flush out the wounds. It didn’t take long before black blood stained the tub. The artist winced whenever he would rest his fingers on one of them, or worse, they got soap in them. Thankfully, Nightmare would notice and move. He did the same thing washing out the other arm.

“So,” Nightmare started as he pumped soap into his hand. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about your . . . poor decision-making and how I could help you improve. Then it hit me. Your problem is arrogance and too much freedom. You believe your actions are consequence-free and you don’t care about anyone who isn’t yourself. And if something does go wrong, all you have to do is hop into another AU and forget about it. It would be unfortunate if you couldn’t rely on your protector, wouldn’t it?”

Tilting his skull so he could wash the dirt and blood off his neck, Ink’s face burned in shame. He already knew he was an asshole now and then, but hearing it in Nightmare’s smooth voice hurt. "Yeah, I guess that would suck. And I kinda let everyone down . . . what is this leading to?"

Chuckling, Nightmare rubbed the lavender-scented soap into his collarbones. “As I said two weeks ago, I'm going to lay down stricter rules. I have a plan set up for you to take etiquette lessons. You also have some paperwork to sign. You have a brand new role you need to fulfill for me, and I'll teach you how. Don’t worry, once you catch on, they’ll be easy. Your lessons will be alongside your battle training. Also, I will choose what you wear from now on. It’s quite the change, but you’ll get used to it.”

Ink swallowed. He wasn’t a fan of the idea, but he’d do it if it made Nightmare happy. He didn’t want to face his anger again. “What happens if I mess up and break the rules?”

“Simple. Depending on the severity, we would either talk about your mistake or I would punish you. I’d prefer not to physically harm you, I’d like to keep your appearance nice, but it could happen. So instead, you would either spend some time in the white room-”

“NO!” Ink twitched so hard that water splashed up on Nightmare. He smirked in amusement as he flicked the bubbles off his face. “Not again. Don’t leave me alone in there again. Please.”

“Shh.” Nightmare stroked his cheekbone with his thumb, leaving a trail of light purple suds. “Aw, you poor thing. If you don’t want punishment, then I assume you want to be compliant, don’t you?”

To be honest, Ink wasn’t sure what he wanted. He didn’t want to be on his own, that was for sure. But he didn’t like thinking about losing that much freedom either. He could’ve tried running away . . . but he wanted to stay with Nightmare. Even if he tried to run, Nightmare would track him down and throw him back into the white room. Ink wanted things to go back to the way they were. He tried to keep everything on his mind, but it came out as stammering nonsense.

Nightmare massaged soap into his ribs. Ink stopped worrying and relaxed; it felt so good. “I understand if you’re confused, it’s how anyone would feel. That’s how you. will earn and deserve rewards like this. You won’t even need to think, I will do all that for you. You just need to act cute and obedient.” He booped his nasal bone. Ink sneezed. “And it seems you almost have the first part mastered. All this won’t start for at least another week. I figured you need some time to prepare. and understand what you're getting into."

“Prepare? I . . . nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Ink had a sick feeling in his nonexistent stomach. The last time he felt this uncomfortable was when he got back from Flufftale. Even though he was nervous about the answer, he asked, “Hey, Night?”

“Hm?”

“How long was I in that room?”

Nightmare didn’t answer for a long time. “A while.”

They didn’t say anything for the rest of the bath. Nightmare was gentle and his scrubbing never hurt, even when he had to go rougher on some of the stickier muck. Ink started to doze off. Nightmare kissed his foreskull. What did he say before about second chances? Was this it? If so, maybe this new role would be alright, whatever it was.

Nightmare finished cleaning him. He helped him out and Ink took a towel to dry himself off with, tying it around his lower bones when he was done.

“Sit there with your arms held out.” Nightmare said, pointing to the bathtub rim with a tendril. Ink followed the order. “There we go. Now stay still so I can fix your arms."

His tendril reached on top of a cabinet and a roll of beige bandages. He traced his magic glowing fingers down his arms before binding them up. “I would use my malice again, but the bandages will look much cleaner with your outfit. Don’t scratch your bandages no matter how itchy they may become. It could loosen them or cause a worse infection. That includes when they’re off. No more harming yourself, promise Ink? I expect your body to be in the best possible condition.” He paused. “How come you’re staring at me like that?”

Nodding and half-listening, Ink’s mind argued with itself. He should’ve hated him. He was supposed to hate him. He was always told Nightmare was evil and sadistic and violent twenty-four-seven. And he was a victim of that violence. But he’s been so gentle, concerned, and caring. Even after he messed up, he was giving him another chance. He couldn’t- no, he wasn’t all bad. That fight had to be a one-time thing. Maybe Nightmare was confused about how to show love. They were both brand new at this. Or was he the confused one? Oh! He could help Nightmare learn to love!

“Ink?” Nightmare snapped his fingers and the artist jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. “Are you listening?”

“What?”

Nightmare sighed in exasperation. “I was saying I have your clothes in that box.” He nodded at the package on the counter. “You may get dressed behind that screen. And for future reference, I hate repeating myself, so don’t make me do it again. Listen to me next time.”

“Got it!” Ink said quickly. He didn't understand why Nightmare wouldn't let him undress behind there earlier. Oh well. Ink stood up and took the package off the sink. It was both heavier and lighter than he expected. He shook it up to his skull. Something rang in there. A bell? A jingle bell?

The artist slipped behind the changing screen with the box. The back wall was a giant mirror. He set the package on a small stool, untied the perfect bow, and ripped the paper off in a swift motion. Inside was a plain black box. Ink took off the lid and peered into it.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Ink pulled out the biggest thing first. It was a cutesy dress meant for a little girl. Pastel pink with white lace trim and sleeves that puffed at the top before tightening at the wrist. The skirt had a lot of ruffles, lace, and layers, switching between pink and white. A pink bow wrapped around the waist and held it all together. Ink held it against his body and guessed it was about knee length. Under that was a painful and confusing-looking corset and shiny black Mary Janes. The last things he pulled out were a pink and white beret and white knee-high stockings with- did Nightmare have a thing for lace?

Ink wasn’t sure what to think of the outfit. It seemed too cutesy and pastel to be something Nightmare would be into. Like . . . that was the opposite of what he was into. But Ink put it on because he didn’t want to look ungrateful. He didn't hate it either, he was extremely confused.

The corset took the longest to put on because he had no idea how to wear it.The dress was easier and more comfortable than he was expecting, it had a soft lining inside. Ink put the beret on as he fumbled with the shoes. He preferred going barefoot as he felt freer but supposed these were alright. A little tight at the toes at most. Besides that, the clothes were his exact size. He guessed Nightmare looked at the labels of his clothes because he didn't want to know otherwise. As Ink stood up, he caught his reflection in the mirror. His face went hot.

Sure, he looked adorable and charming, but he also didn't look or feel anything like a fighter. The corset hurt and constricted his ribs. Even though they weren’t too revealing, they were some of the most embarrassing clothes he ever wore. The black tattoos on his legs stood out, looking like a sore thumb against the pinks and whites. Would Nightmare be okay with it? Would he like it? Well if he picked it out, he has to. Ink stared deeper into the mirror, studying himself. He had so many quest-

“Oh, Inky?” Nightmare asked in a sing-song tone. “Is everything okay in there?”

The artist’s eye lights turned into a purple exclamation point and circle. “Yeah, I’m done!”

“Show me.”

Taking a deep breath, Ink’s shoes clacked across the tiled floor as he stepped from behind the screen. His self-consciousness eased as soon as Nightmare smiled at him. It was worth everything. Ink messed with his sleeves and bounced on his heels. "So, what do you think?"

Nightmare walked around the artist, taking in every part of him. One of his tendrils felt around his eye socket, then it traced down his cheek to his mouth. He cocked his head with a satisfied smile. “Beautiful, bow and skirts suit you much better than that old uniform. But there’s still one more thing you need.”

“One more thing? What's that?” Ink couldn’t think of what he meant. Then he felt stupid.

Gesturing toward the stool, Nightmare grabbed a container Ink hadn’t noticed before. It was the same pastel pink as the dress he wore. Ink couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. It was about the size of a clutch and looked like one too. It had glittering silver accents and a handle at the top, along with two latches. He cupped his chin with one hand and held a makeup brush in the other.

Nightmare clicked it open. “This is going to be yours soon, but for now, I need you to hold still.”

Ink glimpsed inside the container. Many cosmetics, makeup brushes, and other beauty supplies. Before he could ask for details, Nightmare tied his hands and legs together with his tendrils. He took a small book and opened it, looking between him and Ink. It was a how-to guide. Nightmare dipped the brush in a container of powder and covered his face. Ink scrunched his nasal bone. Nightmare tapped the side of his skull as a silent warning to stop. He switched the powder out and painted eyeshadow on his eye sockets. Ink couldn’t stop himself from sneezing and snickering. The latter because the brushes tickled.

“Nightmare, I- pew! I think I’m allergic to the makeup.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Nightmare said, looking back at the book. He traced something that felt like a pen on the edges of his eye sockets. Ink tried readjusting himself again and Nightmare slapped his hands. “Stop moving around, you're making this much harder than it has to be. I know you have it in you to be good. You're just not putting in enough effort. Yes, you may have not signed any contracts yet, but you don’t need one for basic politeness.”

Ink held back another sneeze. “I can’t sit still- wait, what was that about a contract?”

Nightmare didn’t answer. After a few more touch-ups, he finished. Ink’s face felt weird. The makeup wasn’t heavy, but it still tingled. He’s done face paint and eyeliner before, but nothing like this. He looked in the mirror. Whatever the powder was, it made his features look softer. His cheekbones were done up with rosy pink circles like a cartoon. The eyeshadow was light and glittery. The corners of his eye sockets were a very faint red.

Nightmare ran his hand down his skull before tilting his chin to look at him. He hummed. “Not perfect, but it will do. This is how you’re expected to do your makeup unless I say otherwise.”

Ink was double confused. "Alright . . ."

"I'm glad you understand." Nightmare offered his hand for Ink to take it. He did, pulling himself up. Nightmare looked him over again. "Does everything fit okay? Is anything too tight?"

Ink shook his head. “Good," Nightmare said, "because this dress will become your new uniform. The same way I wear my suit vest and the team wear their navy jackets.”

Ink glanced down and couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He laughed so hard his eye sockets teared up and he had to brace himself with the wall. “You’re joking, right? Me? Going out in battle and spreading negativity dressed like this? That’s ridiculous! Oh, this whole thing makes sense now! You want to pull a prank to confuse me because you’re still bitter over our fight! I could give you some tips on pran . . .” He finally noticed Nightmare’s flat expression. He didn’t have any humor in his eye light. Ink’s laughter died down. “You’re not kidding, are you.”

“I don’t kid, Ink. You know this.” Nightmare waved his fingers and Ink’s entire body tingled. It was a less extreme feeling than when he took control of his emotions in Birdtale. Wow, that felt like a year ago, even if it couldn’t have been more than two months. Nightmare hummed at his aura. “Does the change make you uncomfortable? Be honest with me, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Ink rubbed his arm. He was hoping he wouldn’t ask. “Well yeah. I’ve never worn any like this. Come on, it’s so embarrassing! You had your fun, now can I have my normal clothes back?”

Nightmare set his hands on his shoulders and massaged them. “I see you don't understand. I got rid of your old clothes. This is who you are now, Ink. I know it's going to be . . . difficult, but that's why I'm here. Now, smile for me."

Reluctantly, Ink did as he asked.

“See? It’s easy to listen and obey, and you’re doing such a good job.” Even though Ink didn’t want to admit it, the praise felt good. So did the shoulder rub. He rested his head on Nightmare’s chest, making one of the king's hands move up to pet his head instead. He was still touch-starved from the white room. It was almost worse than the years he spent in that void. He didn't know what touch was, now he did. He had something to crave and miss. “You’re going to love your new life, my little doll.” He pressed his nonexistent lips together to keep from snickering.

“Little doll? Weird name, but I kinda like it . . .” Ink mumbled to himself. Nightmare didn’t answer, but he could tell he heard it from his smile. Then the moment was ruined when a wave of dizziness took over Ink. "Night, can I have something to eat? I've had anything in like, a week."

Nightmare stopped petting him. "Hm, sure. I don't see why not. How does some pasta sound?"

Ink beamed again. Finally. He would get something that wasn't plain rice. He could never eat that stuff ever again. Or he would have to use food coloring.

Nightmare offered his hand to him and Ink took it. They walked into the hallway. Ink spun around as he walked so he could watch the skirt spin. But despite as fun as that was, he kept wincing and stopping in pain. Right, the corset. It was like he had a massive rubber band tightening around his ribs. What if he put the corset on incorrectly?

Nightmare heard his groans. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, this corset is killing me. Do I need to wear it all the time?” Ink tugged on it again.

His tendril absentmindedly stroked his waist. “No, not during battles or at night. Don’t even think about taking it off, you need it. If it hurts, that means you laced it tight enough. The pain won’t last forever; I doubt you will even notice it after a week. In time, it will improve your posture and make you look better.”

“Could I at least loosen it?”

“No.”

Ink didn’t bother arguing. Maybe when Nightmare wasn’t looking, he could take it off. How was he supposed to wear this thing every day without ruining his ribs?"

Nightmare walked into the kitchen and Ink still couldn't believe how massive it was. Sure, it was a castle, but still. The tiny white room made everything look giant in comparison. It was pitch black like the rest of the castle and the appliances were light gray. And the dining table was huge, almost as long as the room.

Nightmare told Ink to sit down while he made the pasta. Ink did. The chairs were the same dark wood as the table and engraved with swirled patterns and trees on the back.

Ink fiddled with his beret some more and made himself comfortable. It kept sliding over to cover his eye sockets. He took it off to see if it was adjustable. It wouldn't make sense if Nightmare got his clothes right but the beret was too big. Speaking of Nightmare, he kept stealing glances at him while he was cooking.

Ink smiled and cleared his throat. After a long time of thinking, he was going to ask the question that was itching the back of his mind. "Nightmare, why won’t-”

Nightmare shushed him without turning around. “I should've mentioned this before, my apologies. One of your new rules is you are to only speak when spoken to or with verbal consent. If you want to talk, say, ‘Permission to speak’. I will either grant or deny it.”

Ink sighed. “Fine. Permission to speak?”

“Permission granted.”

“Why won’t you let me leave the castle?”

Nightmare heaved a dramatic huff, stirring the sauce. “It’s for your protection. The Doodlesphere believes you to be a traitor. If they find out about our relationship, if they find you’re alive, it won’t end well. Few are brave enough to challenge me, but they would harm you. Think about it. You could protest and they wouldn’t care. After all, the evidence is obvious. You are in a relationship with me, you haven't shown your face in months, and you are part of my cause. I chose the white room punishment as a warning. That’s where they will leave you, in the same white void you were trapped in. I wouldn’t be able to rescue you.”

Everyone thought he was a traitor? Ink didn’t know that. “But . . . I’m the Protector of the Doodlesphere and a member of the Star Sanses! Everyone loves me! Well, most people love me. Why would you think anyone would change their mind?”

“One, you were. And two, it’s because it already happened once, to Dust. He went on a solo mission to a Fellswap timeline. He’s capable of protecting himself, so I wasn’t worried after he was gone for two days. But those days turned into four with no sign of him. Then it turned into a week. I started a search mission with Horror, Killer, and at the time, Cross. After hours of tracking, I found his scarf hanging on a branch. His footsteps were half-buried in snow and I felt a strong force of negativity. Pain, fear, distress, I knew he was close. It led me to a rundown shack in the mountains. There was a gang of monsters . . . torturing him. Dust was crying. His hoodie was missing. I killed all of them on the spot. Slowly.”

His voice turned sadder. “He was a mess. Broken ribs, bruises all over, fever, damaged legs, but the worst damage was to his mind. I haven’t seen him so trapped in his hallucinations since I first hired him. He couldn’t hear me, but he was calling for his late brother and his team. Horror, Killer, Cross, and I were up all night and into the morning working to return him to reality. Once his injuries healed and he could function again, he refused to talk about it. To this day, no one knows the extent of what they did, but I know the motivation. They were tormenting him because he was one of mine.”

“Dust is a henchman, but he’s also like a son to me. They all are. Don’t tell them I said that. Meanwhile, you are my light, my little doll. You would be worth so much more if you were captured. The outside world is too dangerous for you to be on your own. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.” He took Ink’s hand and held it against his chest. “Ink, promise you’ll allow me to protect you, no more running away, no more misbehavior. Promise you’ll allow me to make you your strongest self so I’ll never need to worry about your safety.”

If he didn’t feel bad enough, the story made Ink regret every choice he made in Flufftale. It probably wasn’t easy for him to open up like that. Nightmare knew what was best for him. He was smarter and more experienced than Ink. He should stop trying to argue and let him take over-

What? No! What the hell was he thinking? He was a guardian and fighter, not a helpless maiden! Even if he was dressed like one! He watched Nightmare set the plate of finished pasta in front of him. His nonexistent soul ached and his paints swarmed, but Ink reached out and took his hand. “I promise, Nightmare. I’ll let you protect me.”

Nightmare stopped and turned to Ink with a smug smile. He hugged the artist from behind, kissing him where his ear would be. He chuckled. “We’re going to fix you, Ink. I'm going to make you perfect. I swear it.”

10 notes · View notes