Chapter Text
Hakyeon was inexplicably waiting for him.
Taekwoon stilled his steps far down the path, a slight frown creasing his brow as he regarded the slight figure standing on the bridge, hands clasped lightly behind his back. He was dressed plainly in light blue, and as the wind rustled through the leaves, scattering a handful of petals to float along the river, it also tugged at Hakyeon's clothes, his hair feathering against the nape of his neck. It was the height of spring, a thin layer of clouds obscuring an otherwise blue sky. The garden was lush in green and blossom, a calm day, a pleasant day. A petal had caught in Hakyeon's hair. A splash of pale pink, just by his ear. Taekwoon stepped forward, steps soft against the stone path just as Hakyeon turned, fingers brushing against the shell of his ear. A smile, gentle, but eyes bursting with cheer. It nearly brought a smile to tug at Taekwoon's own cheeks, so infectious Hakyeon's smiles always were.
"Spring beckons summer rains, as the sparrow calls out noon," Hakyeon said, voice drifting down the path.
Taekwoon's fingers brushed against the sturdy stalks of bamboo, along the joins and the knots. Summer questions autumn's frost, as noon surely follows dawn. "Why are you here?" Taekwoon answered instead. It wasn't quite a proper response, the second part, anyway.
"So blunt," Hakyeon said. He laughed softly.
Taekwoon had no response to that, had no need to respond. He stepped up next to Hakyeon on the bridge, resting his hand on the railing by Hakyeon's. The other still wrapped lightly about his flute, tucked away in his sleeve as it were. Below the bridge, fish flashed in brilliant reds and oranges, ripples disturbing the veil of pale pink petals that floated across the surface.
"I thought you would come this way, soon," Hakyeon said. He glanced at Taekwoon.
"Why?" Taekwoon asked.
"It would be good to walk with you," Hakyeon said, understanding which 'why' Taekwoon meant. Why had Hakyeon sought him out, why had he come to wait for Taekwoon, why had he come to wait for Taekwoon here.
Taekwoon nodded, once, and then stepped back, away from the railing. He paused, half a moment, as Hakyeon seemed to almost push himself off, began to walk in the direction that Taekwoon would have continued walking.
There was a pavilion, a small ways off. One of many in this palace garden. It was the one that Taekwoon preferred. That he had always preferred.
"You do not come as often as you used to," Hakyeon said. He spoke quietly, as if afraid to disturb the leaves, the flowers. They left behind the brook, climbed a few stone steps, continued along the path.
Hakyeon was right, as he tended to be. Taekwoon had come here much more often when he'd been younger. Hakyeon had done so, as well.
"You have time, tonight?" Hakyeon asked.
Taekwoon's breath caught in his throat, and after the space where too many breaths ought to have gone, he nodded.
The question had been asked softly, asked as if it was a question of no import, and had anyone but the two of them been listening, that would indeed have been the case. It was tossed out with a slight gesture of a hand, the briefest of glances, the sense of an off-handed shrug. Hakyeon hummed an acknowledgement at Taekwoon's response. It was enough.
They made their way there, in time, Hakyeon half a step ahead even though this had been Taekwoon's destination. Taekwoon did not mind, for he took no note of it at all. It was a small pavilion, and Hakyeon made himself comfortable on the single bench there. The trees screened this place from the world, and Taekwoon, however briefly, could feel at peace. He ought to have been alone and he would have been, had Hakyeon not been waiting for him by the bridge. Yet, how had Hakyeon known that he would be here, today.
"It is a nice place," Hakyeon said. His words slipped beneath the breeze, through the trees. Unobtrusive.
"You've been coming often," Taekwoon said. It was a question in truth, and one that was answered with a small laugh, a little sheepish. He had not known, then, that Taekwoon would come this way today.
"Will you play?" Hakyeon asked.
In answer, Taekwoon held the flute gently in his palms, its weight far greater than the simple stalk of bamboo it was carved from. Unadorned, bare, and familiar. He needed no prompting in truth. Hakyeon may have asked, but there had been only one reason why Taekwoon had come, and it was a reason that was as clear to Hakyeon as Taekwoon's name itself. The sweet sound of the flute filled the space, from the stone floor to the wooden beams, vibrating ever so slightly under Taekwoon's fingers. He played not for Hakyeon but towards the trees, allowing the notes to take on the chatter of birds, before sweeping into the slow slip of a placid stream. A pause, and Taekwoon was faintly aware of the rustle of paper behind him, and he knew that Hakyeon had, perhaps, formed a verse. A long pause, Taekwoon's fingers still, the flute resting feather light in his hands. This time, it was a song of longing—Taekwoon knew it to be such, as it had been a song he had breathed life into himself. The world seemed to have stilled. The leaves quiet, the wind gone, Hakyeon's presence a bare shadow of a breath.
There was the tale of two people who had loved each other so deeply, that their spirits had risen from the grave as butterflies, so as to be never again parted in death as they had been in life. It was a story that had captivated Taekwoon as a child, yet he had never managed to himself capture its essence, could only glean from it the most trifling of pieces. This was not such a song, such an attempt, but in many ways it had been wrought from the same bubbling spring.
A breath, a pause. His fingers quiet. A sweet song, this time, full of youthful trills and slips and glides. He liked it, this one, couldn't remember where he had heard it or who it was from, but it was bright, and suited spring flowers far more than the dull dearth of winter.
Taekwoon stopped, after that. Brought his hands down, fingers wrapped tightly about the flute. The breeze from earlier had resumed its meandering path, the leaves again chattered in response. It filled the silence left behind by Taekwoon, even if the soft steps that stopped just behind Taekwoon had not. There was a quiet touch on his shoulder and Taekwoon fought not to stiffen.
But they were hidden here, and hidden well, and so Taekwoon let Hakyeon draw him into a soft kiss, his fingers light against Taekwoon's cheek. When they drew apart, Hakyeon's eyes were shining so bright they might as well have been glittering with stars.
"You have time, tonight," Hakyeon said again, less of a question this time. Again, Taekwoon nodded, the slightest of motions, as if brought by the breeze itself. A smile curled at Hakyeon's lips, and Taekwoon stifled the urge to crush Hakyeon to him then and there, to kiss him like they had when they had been still young, much younger than they were now.
"Then I have things to attend to," Hakyeon said. Hakyeon had tucked away the small book he carried, and he laughed a little when he saw Taekwoon glance at it.
"Thank you," Hakyeon said, still with a small laugh.
"Tonight," Taekwoon answered.
Hakyeon bowed slightly in acknowledgement—the gesture left Taekwoon feeling wrong-footed, but Hakyeon had turned to leave before Taekwoon could react.
Hakyeon was alone, when he answered Taekwoon's soft knock.
"You came," he said, and the slight surprise there was in those words flickered against Taekwoon's skin. He nodded, the door already shut behind him.
I always will, for you. The words sat on the tip of his tongue, but Taekwoon let them sit, just nodded again, even though Hakyeon had not asked again.
Hakyeon drew him inside, fingers light about Taekwoon's wrist, electrifying in touch even through the fabric of Taekwoon's sleeve. The windows were closed, the light from the lamps a warm orange. The moon had been half full, tonight, but dull behind the veil of clouds. It would have cast no frost-like light by the foot of the bed.
They both knew why Hakyeon had asked him here, and Taekwoon, this time, easily drew Hakyeon into a kiss. Soft, sweet, no different than the one earlier in the day, witnessed by birds and the sun and hidden from human eyes by the trees. Hakyeon was not by any measure short, but like this, gathered in Taekwoon's arms and near pressed against his chest, he seemed almost small—almost fragile. And Taekwoon would give everything to protect that.
He kissed him again, and again, until it was Hakyeon who deepened the kiss, who furthered its urgency, whose fingers found their way to the nape of Taekwoon's neck and pulled him close, crushed their lips together in their fervency. When he pulled away, Taekwoon's eyes were almost wild, his cheeks flush, his lips parted and wet. Hakyeon's hand wrapped about Taekwoon's arm, tugging him forward until they were nearer the bed, and this time, Taekwoon needed no prompting to undoing the fasteners of Hakyeon's clothes, of sliding them off his shoulders until his chest was bare, and then until there was nothing separating Hakyeon from the world. For a moment, he let his fingers linger first against Hakyeon's thigh, before they trailed upwards to rest against the skin above Hakyeon's heart, feeling the pulse there. Hakyeon let out a soft laugh, cupped the side of Taekwoon's face with his hand.
"And you?" Hakyeon asked.
Taekwoon undressed himself much more quickly than he had undressed Hakyeon, and Hakyeon smiled with fondness as he did. Pink flooded Taekwoon's cheeks under Hakyeon's watch, and he huffed softly as this time he pulled Hakyeon onto the bed.
It was deep into the night when Hakyeon pressed a kiss to the corner of Taekwoon's mouth before shifting so they lay side by side, his skin damp and sweat slick. Taekwoon's breathing had already quieted, and the rise and fall of his chest was steady and calm when Hakyeon rested his palm against it. Taekwoon covered Hakyeon's hand with his, warm.
"I was thinking we could go on an excursion to the lake," Hakyeon said.
"We?"
"Yes, we," Hakyeon said. His voice took on slight amusement, near playful, as he echoed Taekwoon's question. "The two of us."
Taekwoon frowned as he turned onto his side. Hakyeon still lay on his back, although he turned his head towards Taekwoon, smiling a little at Taekwoon's creased brows, the slight downturn of his lips.
"You are still a prince," Taekwoon said.
"Fourth," Hakyeon reminded him. It did not seem so long ago that Hakyeon had not even been that.
"But—"
"My Lord father has named the oldest of us princes as heir," Hakyeon said. "It is quite safe for me."
Hakyeon paused, then, his expression growing serious to match Taekwoon's. "I can't say the same for him."
"If—"
"Let's not talk politics," Hakyeon said, cutting Taekwoon off. They both knew what Taekwoon had to say, but Taekwoon had felt the need to say it regardless, if Hakyeon would insist on such things. If an attack, from outside or otherwise, were to occur against the Emperor and the Crown Prince, it would stand to reason that the entire line of succession would be plucked and destroyed. If not outright killed, then sent into exile at the very least. Such things were oft foretold by the past.
But Hakyeon was right, that tonight was not the time for politics.
"You truly wish to go to the lake?" Taekwoon asked.
"Mmhmm. For old times sake." A pause. "I don't know if I should tell you to go or to stay."
Hakyeon's words slammed into Taekwoon, unexpected, Taekwoon unsuspecting. They stiffened him, gripped at his chest, because it was a question that had been festering within Taekwoon for far too long. He couldn't quite meet Hakyeon's eyes, the swallow involuntary as he slumped back, to stare up at the ceiling and its prettily painted beams. For Taekwoon had no answer to Hakyeon's words.
"We can go," Taekwoon said instead. "To the lake."
"You're staying for my sake," Hakyeon said.
Taekwoon paused, thought of letting his hand slip the few fingers breadths to grip at Hakyeon's. He tangled them in the silk sheets instead. Allowed his eyes to fall shut.
"A question that hovers by the swift running dark river, the swallow darts about the fleeing moonlit sail, yet no answer can come until the dawn's sun, the step too hesitant to be taken."
Hakyeon laughed softly at Taekwoon's words, a quiet undercurrent in the room, to their breaths. "Now that I wish for you to speak plainly, you will not," Hakyeon said. "You've always been stubborn."
"No," Taekwoon said, for lack of anything else to say.
"You are meant to be a scholar, not a soldier," Hakyeon said. "If only you could see that."
"Tomorrow," Taekwoon said.
"You would be brilliant leading your own command, it is a waste to wish for you to remain—and I don't doubt you want to go, as well."
If Taekwoon had hesitated, had interrupted himself, Hakyeon easily let his fingers brush against the inside of Taekwoon's wrist, slipping into his loosely formed fist.
"It took so little for you to agree to my excursion," Hakyeon said with a small laugh. "Tomorrow, then. I will hold you to it."
"That was low," Taekwoon muttered.
Hakyeon's cheeks pulled tight, and for a brief moment, although Taekwoon could not have known, his heart sank and sank until it could fall no deeper, until it choked him and clenched at his throat.
"It wasn't meant to be," Hakyeon said. He said this lightly, almost playfully—he wasn't sure if he'd managed.
He had cause to wonder, for silence fell for many breaths, many heartbeats. The lamps lent the room a warm glow, and he knew that it was a light that would be visible from outside, beyond the windows. Taekwoon's breathing was quiet, and he lay so still as if he were asleep, yet Hakyeon knew that he was not asleep from the way he'd laced their fingers together, matched Hakyeon's grip with his own. It was with the strength of one not asleep, but with the strength of one who had too much holding him to the banks of the river, to be able to wholeheartedly sail forth. Taekwoon was still young—they both were still young—but he was of an age to make a name for himself, but it would not be made here, within the walls of this palace, under the shadow of his father. Taekwoon might not have studied the old masters of rhetoric and thought, but he had studied the stratagems of war and the history of battles no less thoroughly, and it would be wasted were he to remain. And yet he lingered for Hakyeon's sake, Hakyeon knew this as surely as he knew that spring would always follow winter.
"Whatever you decide, I'll be happy," Hakyeon said. His words slipped through the silence, parting it without shattering it. Taekwoon turned, finally, and there was a slight crease between his brows as he regarded Hakyeon.
I don't know what I will decide, Taekwoon wanted to say, but he could think of no way to say it, plainly or otherwise. He was no scholar.
Instead, Taekwoon leaned over and kissed Hakyeon, gently, almost chaste, before he sat up.
"You're going?" Hakyeon asked. Taekwoon nodded, running a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face. "Can't you stay?"
Taekwoon gave him a wry smile. "You are still a prince," he said. "What would your serving girls say if they saw me here in the morning?"
Hakyeon seemed to sigh as he too sat up. He looked as if he were to make a comment about the times when they were younger, when there were not such things to worry about, when there was no scrutiny about either of them whatsoever. No one to pay any mind to children on the cusp of adulthood.
"Yes, well." Hakyeon grimaced, he too pushing his hair away from his face. He watched as Taekwoon dressed, quickly and efficiently much as he had undressed. Hakyeon stood, then, gestured Taekwoon to step closer so Hakyeon could smooth down Taekwoon's hair, combed his fingers through the strands until they resembled an image of decency.
Taekwoon let Hakyeon do so, and then with one last kiss, pushed his way out into the night, the door closing gently behind him.
The sun was brilliant, the sky clear, only a few clouds splashing white against the mirror surface of the lake. The reeds against the shore might have been the reflection itself, had winnows not disturbed the true reflection with minute ripples. The breeze was light, the day warm, and the soft notes from a bamboo flute flit across the open space, from one shore to the other.
Hakyeon rested his head against Taekwoon's shoulder, despite Taekwoon's protests, and despite Hakyeon himself knowing how it hindered Taekwoon's playing. He sat up in time, brushing his finger against Taekwoon's earrings, silver and glinting in the sun. Taekwoon's playing came to an abrupt halt, an interrupted breath, and Taekwoon's expression was cross even as a smile played about Hakyeon's face.
"Go on," Hakyeon said.
"You're a nuisance," Taekwoon said.
"Ah, but a wanted nuisance," Hakyeon said, raising a finger in protest. Taekwoon wrinkled his nose and made to bite at it, and got a pat on the head in return. He exhaled deeply, let his flute fall to his lap. From somewhere behind them, one of their horses pawed at the ground, and a bird seemed to startle at the sound.
They had come here as children, fleeing lessons, the illicitness part of the glee as they ran through the trees, only to return when the sun had near set. There had been the night when it had been full dark and they had yet to return—Taekwoon had grabbed Hakyeon by the wrist and all but dragged him home, and unexpectedly, had taken the disciplining for them both when it was Taekwoon who usually worked the hardest to avoid punishment of any kind. Hakyeon had cried after, even if Taekwoon had not, although the welts had lasted for days, if not weeks. They had kept their furtive excursions closer to home, after that.
But it had been some time since they were children, and Hakyeon's fingers caught Taekwoon's chin as he drew him into a slow kiss, his hand resting lightly against Taekwoon's shoulder.
"Who says you're wanted," Taekwoon murmured, the words brushing against Hakyeon's lips.
"Mmm, you, no?" Hakyeon said, between soft touches of catching Taekwoon's lips between his. Taekwoon seemed to flare with disdain, but the only outward sign was the way his grip tightened on Hakyeon's shoulder.
It had been so long since they'd last had such times together, the previous night, this tranquil afternoon—and yet it was tinged in the knowledge that such times were even more numbered than they had been. For it had been some time since they were children.
Hakyeon lay on the grass with Taekwoon's head resting against his chest, their hands lightly clasped between them. The world seemed to be in a strange stasis: the same clouds seemed to be painted against the surface of the lake, the same fish seemed to dance in the shallows, the same breeze seemed to brush gently through their hair, soft motions of their clothes.
There were words to be said here, hovering in the space above them, between them. In this space sheltered by the trees, open to the lake-swept winds, bared to the sky above, the absence of the words lingered as heavy pebbles, not quite able to be carried away with even the strongest currents of air. But they were words that, by silent agreement, could wait in rest while Hakyeon's eyes shut and Taekwoon's eyes shut and it was the sound of Hakyeon's breathing in time with the slight motions of Taekwoon's head, pressed against Hakyeon's chest as he was. They were not asleep, although they were so still they resembled lovers in slumber, and had Taekwoon been lying not on Hakyeon's chest but on his sleeve, they might have been a painting of an old fabled tale.
It was an hour, perhaps, or more, before Taekwoon stirred. A small, gentle motion that had Hakyeon sitting up, Taekwoon following soon after. Hakyeon's robe was a pale green today, and it almost seemed to blend into their surroundings—no, it was almost as if Hakyeon belonged in such a place. His smile was gentle, it could have been said to be peaceful and charming, as if Hakyeon was a spirit born of the lakes and the forest, the embodiment of the kindness and mischief of the land all bundled into one. But he was not, for he was the Fourth Prince and Taekwoon's friend and cousin and the son of an Emperor whose younger brother was Taekwoon's father, and he was so very human in his presence.
"You're thinking too hard," Hakyeon said. His lips curled into a teasing smile.
Taekwoon's tongue flickered out over his lips, but no words followed. His fingers brushed against the flute lying in the grass beside him. Hakyeon's eyes caught onto the motion, his gaze following Taekwoon's fingers.
"Don't," Taekwoon said. He'd known where Hakyeon's eyes had wandered to, and could sense that there had been words Hakyeon had been about to say. Taekwoon's own word was spoken softly, quietly, and towards the bed of grass that tucked away the flute. He knew what Hakyeon would say, for he had said it countless times and each time, Taekwoon had never been able to give a proper response, even if there had been none needed.
The day was too lovely to spoil with such things.
Instead: "read to me?" Taekwoon asked.
Hakyeon seemed to startle a little at that, sat up a little straighter, and Taekwoon pretended that this surprise of Hakyeon's drew no amusement from him. Even so, Hakyeon's face flashed utter disdain, before it formed into one with a rueful smile instead.
"I brought nothing to read," Hakyeon said.
"I know," Taekwoon said. He had to fight to keep the amusement out of his voice, even if he couldn't quite hide the playful quirk of his eyes. "But you have something, don't you."
"Now you are a nuisance," Hakyeon muttered. Yet, he sighed and slipped out the small book he always carried with him. A smile flickered across Taekwoon's lips before being swallowed, as he again lay down, an arm resting against his eyes this time to further shield him from the sun.
"You are trying to embarrass me," Hakyeon said under his breath. "But oh well."
"Don't lie, you're proud of what you have," Taekwoon said.
"I'm proud of what's good," Hakyeon shot back. "But do you know how much isn't good?"
"I know," Taekwoon said, placid. "For old times sake."
"Insufferable," Hakyeon said.
"You said it," Taekwoon said.
"Yes, but in quite a different sense—never mind, read to you, you said?"
"Mmm."
The rustle of pages, a pause, a sigh, the turn of a page.
"I'm waiting," Taekwoon said.
Hakyeon smacked Taekwoon on the head. "Shush."
Taekwoon struck back at Hakyeon but it was lackluster and easily rebuffed, and Taekwoon simply let out a long exhale.
"Be patient," Hakyeon scolded. He flipped through another few pages before he sighed, and it sounded like he'd shut the book entirely.
"N—"
"There is nothing that will do," Hakyeon said, cutting Taekwoon off. "But a story, perhaps? It's not quite reading."
I just want to hear your voice. "Alright." A little grumbled, a little reluctant.
"Mmm, but which one?" Hakyeon mused. "One of your favourites? Ah, this is like choosing a bedtime story for a child, don't deny it Taekwoon, you don't find this familiar?"
"Nngh."
"Cute." Hakyeon laughed, patting Taekwoon on the head, ruffling his hair before yanking his hand back. He didn't want to give Taekwoon too large a window to attack. Still, Hakyeon's breath took on a slight sigh as he leaned back on his arms, staring out over the lake. Such a calm lake. A small one, shielded and undisturbed. They could all but see the opposite shore. Most of the way up a small mountain, there would be no fishing here, except by the occasional bird, a homing arrow that glanced across the water's surface and then was gone, leaving behind only ripples in the place of the fish caught in beak or claw. Perhaps it could house a lone dragon, a small one, who wished to be tucked away from the world as much as Taekwoon seemed to wish to be, at times.
"The fog rolled early in the morning, the sparrows on the branches singing among flowers with fallen petals, the night's rain having cast them into oblivion. The lake was dark and by the shore, a young girl's tears added to the spring." Hakyeon paused, and Taekwoon brushed his fingers against Hakyeon's wrist. He could remember the story, but the words were harder to form—Hakyeon had never been quite as good at this as others.
"She stood as the sun rose, and walked about the edge of the lake. Her downcast eyes noticed a lovely round stone, smooth and grey and when her tears fell they sparkled against the surface. It was warm when she cradled it in her hands, and she brought it with her to the home that she would soon leave, for she had been betrothed.
The stone was hidden among her most treasured things, and she every night would hold it to her chest, for it seemed to grow warm and comfort her heart. Morning brought her closer to the day of her marriage, and night gave her scant comfort, but for that warm, smooth stone."
A small pebble skimmed along the lake before it sank into the depths, leaving behind only ripples. Hakyeon caught another in his hand and repeated the motion, his legs tucked partway to his chest, arms resting on his knees. When he glanced at Taekwoon, he was as still as a painting. Hakyeon spoke slowly, his words measured and chosen and spoken towards the lake.
"So preciously she cradled it, the crack that grew one morning seemed impossible, but in front of her eyes it grew larger, and larger, until a beautiful white snake was curled in her palms, and the stone which had been an egg lay on her bed.
"Her life would change in a month, but the white snake now rested in a pouch by her bosom during the day, and curled against her at night, and the comfort she had felt accompanied her as did the sun, moon, stars. The snake grew, faster than any snake should grow, and one day she felt the need to return to the lake, the snake wrapped about her neck as if a fine necklace.
"No fog veiled the lake, no breeze disturbed the surface, the step she took was as if in a dream. Though she walked in the water, her clothes seemed not to grow wet, and only when the water rose to her waist did she stop. People's hearts know what their minds do not, in this world that was so far from her own. White scales flashed through undisturbed waters, and through the waters rose a dragon, eyes like jewels, scales like silver. There was no fear in the girl's heart for this was a dragon she had cradled to her heart, and—"
"He takes human form and carries her off to be his bride," Taekwoon murmured. His voice shattered some spell, an abrupt break of the flowing rhythm that Hakyeon had woven his tale through, the careful cadence of his slowly spoken words. It made Hakyeon laugh, even as it made him a little cross, for Taekwoon was of course right, but it was always the end of the tale that was meant to be the most beautiful, that was meant to match the beginning in phrase and rhythm, a couplet to itself. But he could not be upset at Taekwoon, and his throat was quite dry, besides, and Taekwoon's eyes on him were too soft and gentle for Hakyeon to be able to grow upset at.
"Am I telling this story or are you?" Hakyeon said. His tone was short and cross but there must have been too much fond amusement nonetheless for Taekwoon to take him seriously, for Taekwoon just smiled as he sat up.
"You," Taekwoon said, quite placid.
Hakyeon gave up the pretense and let a small laugh slip out. "Yes, me. Or I was, until you interrupted me," he said.
Taekwoon merely blinked at that, tucked his knees to his chest. He thought of leaning over, letting his shoulder rest against Hakyeon's, but he kept still, arms wrapped about his knees. It was quite improper for an adult of his status, but they were alone here, wonderfully so.
"Do you think there could be a dragon here?" Taekwoon asked. A flight of fancy, but if there was ever to be a time for such things, it felt like now.
"There are no such things as dragons," Hakyeon said. He quirked an eyebrow at Taekwoon, a smile playing about the corner of his lips.
"But if," Taekwoon said.
"I suppose it is impossible to say whether or not such tales are true," Hakyeon murmured. "Whether or not our prayers to the gods fall on deaf ears, whether such things as dragons can truly bring rain, or if it is futile to ask for protection."
"They are," Taekwoon said bluntly.
"So honest," Hakyeon said with a soft laugh. "But it is better to believe so, isn't it."
A pause, and then:
"So you will leave."
As much as the words were abrupt, they were not, this time, unexpected. They only brought a breath barely deeper than any other, perhaps a slight slump of shoulders, eyes falling shut. Taekwoon mulled over an answer, but there was no answer he could give to something that was not a question.
But his silence was answer enough, as it always was when it was the two of them, and only the two of them. A hand rested on Taekwoon's knee, and that too was answer enough.
The world remained as if a dream, a master's painting of a fair day, an enchanted day. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, the lake still mirror like. Perhaps there could have been a cormorant, or a stork by the shore with its orange bill dipping just past the water's surface. A turtle resting on one of the rocks which lay in the shallows, warming itself in the day's light. But there were only a smattering of birds in the trees behind them, and the occasional shuffle of their horse's hooves.
"When will come again the time when we trim the candles by the western window, while speaking of the old mountains as the night rain falls," Hakyeon said softly.
"I have not left yet," Taekwoon said, part cross, part amused. Hakyeon laughed at that, a small, clear laugh.
"No," Hakyeon said, "but you will, and I am glad. I will be lonely, I suppose."
"You, lonely?" Taekwoon's words were no doubt amused this time, and he glanced at Hakyeon before returning his gaze to the hidden shore beyond the lake's edge.
"Well." Hakyeon huffed. "I am not like you and can admit that you are special, and no other companion will quite fill your space when you are gone."
Had Taekwoon been unlike what Hakyeon had said, Taekwoon might've spoken the words that flitted through his mind. The sweet sound of the flute sang a counterpoint to a solitary bird's song, Taekwoon's fingers saying what his words would not.
How familiar an image, this, they both thought, would both think. It was not that Taekwoon had never gotten along with the other palace children, but as Hakyeon had said of Taekwoon, Hakyeon too had always been special to Taekwoon. For who else would sit with Taekwoon at night, or drag him to play when Taekwoon did not know how to ask, or keep him company when Taekwoon wished for silence—although so rarely had Hakyeon granted him that silence. But it had also been Hakyeon who would listen in silence as Taekwoon first fumbled with the fingerings, as his child's hands had yet to grow into the long, slender fingers that now so suited such music. Just as it had been Taekwoon who had read Hakyeon's clumsy verses, childish and trite. And then there were the hours and bruises they'd shared, sparring with stave and blade, for play and for a future that Taekwoon was sure to inherit.
And which he would now inherit.
In time, the music faded away and the soft lapping of waves against the shore followed, as the first wisps of a late afternoon breeze which would herald early evening drew across the lake's wide surface.
"I want to protect you."
The words were so soft, so hesitant, so much quieter than Taekwoon's already quiet tone that they were nearly swallowed by the whisperings of the grass. So substance less were they that they were as if smoke of a single stick of incense, gone in half a breath, melted into air. Yet such a moment was enough time for Hakyeon to breathe them in and capture them in his heart, to let them sink into his bones and blood, to become a part of him so deep that they would never be torn away.
He thought, perhaps, to say I know, but such an answer seemed too trite, too overstated, too loud for such a place. For what use was saying something that Taekwoon no doubt knew, except for Hakyeon's own peace of mind.
"We should go back," Hakyeon said. The sun would begin to set soon, and night would fall.
"We're no longer children, Hakyeon," Taekwoon said. A quick smile. "We don't need to return by nightfall."
"Yes, but..." Hakyeon laughed. "You are right. It's habit, I suppose. Ever since—"
"Hakyeon." A pause, when Hakyeon did not interrupt Taekwoon's interruption. "I will be back."
"Even this, is for my sake, isn't it," Hakyeon said. This did cause Taekwoon's shoulders to stiffen, to rise almost defensively. "Because you think there is nothing for you to do here, that you will be able to do more for my sake by the borders, whether it is to defend the walls from the barbarians or to continue growing our kingdom...You are so very easy to read, Taekwoon."
"I..." Taekwoon began to speak, the single word slipping out before his thoughts could follow, but follow they did and grasp the remainder of his words they did. What they replaced it by was instead a sigh, high and feathering, light and long.
Early evening had chased after late afternoon in earnest, and now the breeze was cool and enough to pluck at their clothes. The sun would soon set, and cast its golden glow across the lake until it sank beneath its surface, the single one that remained of seven.
There was no music now to disturb the silence, just as the birds seemed too to have quieted in preparation for an evening's rest. The water of the lake, the breathing of the two men—still barely men.
The sun did set, for that was what the sun did, for such things were unfailing in this world. And surely as the sun set did darkness follow, and as the day had been a clear one, so too did the sky become a canopy of stars, unburdened by the light of any moon.
"We should go back," Hakyeon said again, and this time Taekwoon did nod. It was several moments before he stood, before he held out a hand for Hakyeon to take. He clasped it tightly, warm and firm, and it was again several moments before Hakyeon too stood.
"It would be nice," Taekwoon said, as they turned their backs to the lake, "to do this again." A step, and then another. "The sun which sets is lovely, yet it is always dusk that follows. But, Hakyeon, just as surely does the sun rise and the dawn come."
"Yes," Hakyeon said. "I suppose you are right."
It was the dawning of a glorious day, for it was the day which they were to celebrate the birth of the Crown Prince. For nearly a full cycle of the moon had preparations been made for this day, and there was not one among them who did not look towards the festivities, the performances, and most crucially, the food. The last, Taekwoon was eager for the most, especially as he knew that despite what he had said to Hakyeon, it would be at least a year before he returned. Perhaps more, as he had no family, no wife or daughters to bear responsibility to, and had only the responsibility he bore towards his kingdom. The dances, the music—that he looked forward to as well, and he knew Hakyeon did, too.
Hakyeon had been away all day, involved in the ceremony. There were the four princes born to the Lady Empress, and the two younger princesses who had yet to marry. The young son of the favoured concubine, as well as the two older girls. The remainder of the Emperor's sons held positions far from the palace, prominent and lucrative, as was fitting for sons of the Emperor.
As for Taekwoon, it could be said that he too had the blood of the dragon within him, but such designs would not only be treason, they would also go against every string of his heart.
The morning was a bright one, but a thin veil of clouds dimmed the sun as afternoon followed morn, softening the harshness of blinding rays. Taekwoon spent much of the day outside of the palace walls in a quiet clearing he knew of, blade in his hand. There were many people in the palace, today. Taekwoon had never been good with so many people.
He briefly met Hakyeon's eye as he went to pay his respects to the Crown Prince, even as he saw him as often as he did. Formalities, it was all formalities, and it was one thing that Taekwoon would be glad to be rid of. That, and all the old men with their pondering advice, with their politics and fawning for the Emperor's favour, although he knew that both would follow no matter where in the kingdom he went. Such was the manner of men, as long as there was power and money to strive for.
There was the barest flicker of a smile in that moment's shared gaze, and a flutter of something passed through Taekwoon's heart, a sliver of warmth. Taekwoon was glad for his lowered head, as he was sure something had shown on his face, even though he himself could not have known what it was.
He left quickly after that, retiring to his rooms. It would be a long night.
Taekwoon could not have known how long.
Later, it could have been said to be portentous, the way the clouds obscured the moon and the stars, but it is the manner of men to declare omens long after the event itself has passed. The night was lit bright with lanterns, and so the heavens brought no loss of light, no unforeseen darkness, and none would have noted the omens, if omens they were.
There were four things he would remember of that night, before the night had truly begun. The first would be the moon veiled in grey, as if watered ink had been splattered across its surface, as if it was making a cursory attempt to break through the clouds. The second, the lone call of a monkey from the mountains beyond as if from a dream, hidden beneath good natured conversation at volumes too loud, with words too raucous, of men well plied by food and wine. The third, two children out long past bedtime sneaking through the shadows—Taekwoon met their eyes and bit back a smile as they startled, but only shook his head and placed a finger against his lips.
And the fourth would be Hakyeon's smile—a little tired and wan but so clear and carefree. He was laughing at something the Second Prince had just said, clapped his hands together in glee. His eyes were lightly crinkled at the corners, and when he noticed Taekwoon's gaze, those lines seemed to soften, his laugh smoothing into something quieter. A mischievous spark in the faint tilt of his head, the widening of his smile, and then Hakyeon's attention had shifted back entirely, and Taekwoon turned back to playing with his cup of wine.
It is in man's very nature to shape the memories which they carry forth. And so it was that Taekwoon would stretch that brief glance into an eternity and etch it into his heart. The smile would be not only the one which he had shown Taekwoon, but would be a blend from ages past. His eyes would shine unburdened, the sense of which would be an arrow through his chest, even as he would not be able to recall exactly how such a sense had appeared. He would not recall the simple joy that Hakyeon had laughed with, surrounded by his closest blood, no matter how hard he would wish to after, for that was not a piece of the present that he would save for the future. It had not seemed so very important at the time.
Later, men would tell the tale as having begun and ended with a great battle fought first by the Emperor, and then by the Prince. The would tell the tale as if the fires had raged about them as they fought, as if the combat had been raised on the dais for all to see. The tale would be told as if it had not begun with two clean cuts of a knife, as if it had not ended before it had even begun.
For Taekwoon, the first thing that he noticed was that Hakyeon was not there. Confusion cost lives, and he stood rooted in horror as he watched half the royal family cut down before the guards—the loyal ones who had not already been killed—could react. People surged in waves about him, fleeing, fighting. Blood spilled about his feet, and it was instinct that had him whirling out of the stab of a spear, gripping the wrist, throwing the man over his shoulder and slamming him onto the floor even as he looked wildly about him for Hakyeon. The Emperor—the Emperor was dead. Taekwoon had seen him fall with his own eyes. "I am quite safe," Taekwoon seemed to hear.
Hakyeon must have returned to his quarters. He had been unwell the previous day, Taekwoon recalled, even as he tried to fight his way forward. It was the futile fight of a fish up the river, but a poor servant of the country he would be were he not to try. How well planned this all was—a clean coup, when all the royal family would be gathered as would all the highest ranking ministers. Such thoughts passed detached through his mind, his body moving in almost unconscious thought. Hakyeon must have returned to his quarters, and this would be a chapter of history, and he knew without hesitation what the sudden cry of "there is one more" meant, but Taekwoon had already begun to fight free of the crowd, of guards, of traitors.
Blood streamed down his arm. An observation. A group of men dashing across the courtyard.
Taekwoon did not follow them.
As children, they had quickly learned the fastest paths through the palace, racing against each other, or fleeing responsibilities as children did. Generations of children had done such things, and Taekwoon was not so far away from childhood to have forgotten. Never before had the stakes been so high as he raced through the darkness. His leg ached. Chaos quieted, left behind. Cries of confusion.
"Taekwoon?"
Hakyeon, standing there, face cast in the flickering light of a lantern as he stopped, steps from his chambers.
There would be only one thing that Hakyeon would remember from that night.
It would not be Taekwoon's face, the brief flicker of thankfulness that Hakyeon did not understand, cheeks flushed even in the half-dark. It would not be the pounding sound of footsteps advancing on them, and it would not be Taekwoon charging recklessly forward, unarmed as he was. He would not recall the way that Taekwoon fought, in the manner of a wounded tigress protecting its cubs, nor would he recall how many men Taekwoon felled that night.
Later, men would end the tale with the Fourth Prince raising his sword, red with blood, having avenged his father. The tale would end with him surrounded by flame, as if a phoenix rising into immortality, the birth of a new Emperor.
Perhaps that was how it had gone. Hakyeon could not recall.
For the only thing that Hakyeon would remember from that night was the image of Taekwoon's back, a sword pierced through his body. As if from a dream, Hakyeon would see Taekwoon catch the blade between his palms to pull it out of himself, and cut down the last assailant even as blood flowed unstaunched from the wound, from his hands. He would see the way Taekwoon grit his teeth, even as he could not have, standing behind Taekwoon as he had been, for Taekwoon had thrown himself in front of the blade meant for Hakyeon, meant for Hakyeon who had stood frozen as if struck to stone. The only thing that Hakyeon would remember was Taekwoon facing Hakyeon, a half smile on his face as if to say I am glad you are safe, even as his voice said: "my Lord." He would not remember the way those words had pierced through his heart in a flicker of understanding, for he would only remember Taekwoon slumping against him, his quiet words brushing against his cheek.
And the last thing he would remember was his own wretched scream as he clutched at Taekwoon's limp body, Taekwoon's blood spilling hot over them both.