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It is only when the dust settles that Yona remembers Hak’s quiet plea to her in the midst of battle.
Soldiers litter the battlegrounds surrounding her as they wait in trepidation for the meeting between the royalties of Kouka and Xing to be over. Her dragons are being cared for by the Wind tribe under the tight surveillance of Yun, and Yona worries tirelessly over their well-being. Perhaps a trip back to Hiryuu castle - or near it - will be good, just to get their immunities heightened once more.
Beside her, Hak sits in solemn silence, hands clenching and unclenching endlessly over the sweat of his brow. Jaw tightened, he seems to be fighting something, and Yona wants desperately to massage the tension pulling at his lips away.
She places a hand over his. “…it’s okay, Hak.”
He lets out a whimper, his fingers tangling in hers. And Yona’s chest hurts from the way he holds onto her, as if she is redemption. She is not redemption; Hak does not need redemption. He is loyal, and good, and kind, and so, so strong. Tears prick at her eyes as he begins trembling.
She tugs at his hand, he immediately lets go, and that’s- that’s not what she wants. When did he become so proficient in simply letting her go?
And she knows - because it is in every allowance he gives to her, to bring herself to new heights, to push her limits, to challenge her boundaries. Because it is in this freedom, she has found the courage to love again, to love anew - beyond anything she can ever hope to dream.
All she wants is for him to know.
Yona grabs his hand again, and Hak looks up this time. There are no tear tracks on his cheek, nor is there any semblance of the brokenness he exudes. But there are horrors in his eyes that Yona shies away from, depths of pain she hates herself for noticing too late. And knowing Hak, he will simply put an arm around her and say he doesn’t notice anything, and everything is fine, Princess.
“Come on, Hak,” she says, pulling at his arm. “Let’s go somewhere.”
Hak stands. “But the meeting-”
“We’ll be back shortly. They won’t be done before then.” She motions for him to follow her. “Let’s go.”
They reach a clearing in the middle of the forest next to the battleground, away from prying eyes. It is within Wind Tribe territory, so Yona figures they will be safe, considering anyone within the vicinity should know of ex-General Son Hak.
Hak trails behind her quietly, as he always does. Yona turns, and stops to face him. She watches as his look of confusion caves in on itself, and his fists loosen. Taking a step closer, Yona witnesses a flash of fear cross his face, and stops.
She ducks her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. She reaches out once more, ignoring the flinch that startles him as she takes his hand. Her thumb brushes over calluses and wrangled fingers, her palm aligning with his. He is precious, so precious to her.
She hears him exhale shakily.
“Princess-”
“Hak, you have to tell me what’s wrong,” she mutters. “Or when you feel bad, or upset-” she looks up, “-or when you are hurt. Hak, you have to tell me.”
His eyes narrow and he looks away, teeth clenched. Yona’s heart sinks.
“…or you can tell anyone, it doesn’t have to be me. But Hak, please, please don’t suffer alone.”
Her voice breaks and there are tears threatening to spill from her eyes. There is frustration, and disappointment, and sadness beyond belief. This is the man who has listened to her every whim, who has followed her through country after country, who has found alongside her, a new family to belong to.
And through all that, not once has she thought to listen. Maybe if she paid attention, she would have heard his heart tearing at the seams, would have noticed the clawing of betrayal against his skin. Even during her first witness of his tears, he was the one to comfort her - this stupid, stupid man who gives too much of himself and forgets to unearth his need for healing too.
“I-” Hak bites out and she startles. “I can’t.”
The knuckles of his other hand are bordering white.
“…why not?” She takes another step closer.
His hand goes up, stretching over his face like a mask. The end of his mouth peeks out underneath, revealing an almost gruesome grimace.
“I’m- I’m not good enough for you, Princess. Please. I can’t-” he steps back. “I can’t say- or tell you. You’re-”
He breaks off on a choke, a deafening sound of defeat. But all Yona hears is a soldier attempting to fight battles he is not trained in, trying to grab at weapons he does not know how to wield, piling on armour after armour to defend himself without realizing that they are rusty at the edges. Hak is not proficient at words, she knows. With every gesture, every hug he gives, there are a million words left unsaid. And now, he is only left with broken arrows and dented shields.
But Yona will not let him lose the war.
“Shh, it’s okay.” She reclaims the step he took back and turns his head towards her. His expression is lost, his eyes finding hers. His eyebrows are furrowed, and Yona lifts her hand to trace them. She gives him a small smile.
“Hak,” she says, “Breathe.”
His chest rises and falls, breath whooshing over her hair.
“Okay,” she tells him, wrapping her arms around his torso and laying her cheek on his chest. “Now, tell me.”
Immediately, his form crumples over hers. Strong arms lay heavily over her shoulders as he buries his head in her neck. His exhales are loud in her ears, and she waits for him to find ground in the midst of the unknown.
“…I’m not good enough for you,” he rasps lowly. “I don’t know how you do it- how you and Droopy Eyes do it. To keep your anger in check. I hate it. When someone hurts you- hurts anyone of those guys, I hate it. And-” he chokes, “I want to hurt people for it.”
“But you guys,” he hugs her tighter, “you know how to stay calm. How to say the right words, how to think straight. I can’t- I’m not a good person, Princess.”
“I want to forgive, but I can’t,” Hak whispers, and Yona feels wet drops land on her skin.
Leaves rustle around them as the wind takes the baritone of Hak’s voice with it. Yona hears it being carried through the quiet, despite its volume, and her heart swells. If only it can travel to the tent where Suwon is, she wonders, will he be happy? Will he be burdened? Or will he simply brush it off?
Neither of them know who Suwon is anymore. But she is reminded through the hands in her hair and the warm air passing over her neck, that she is not alone. They are not alone.
“…you are not alone,” she says, her voice muffled by the overwhelming amount of tunic on Hak’s chest. He releases her a little and makes a questioning noise.
“You are not alone, Hak.” Yona runs her hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him.
“Not having the words to say does not make you a bad person. Being overwhelmed by your emotions does not make you a bad person.” She leans back and looks up at him. “We have been hurt in ways that most people don’t experience in their lifetimes. To not be able to forgive, it’s natural.”
“But Hak,” her hand goes up to cup his jaw. “You want to forgive. And that makes you the strongest person I know. Even when you want to hurt, you try your best not to. Yes, you’ve done some damage before, but you know it’s wrong and you want to change. And that’s something you don’t see in people like General Soo-Jin, in Hiyou, or in any other person we’ve encountered that was so caught up in their ideals, they forget they are hurting the people around them.”
She takes his face in both hands and smiles through her tears. “Son Hak, you are the strongest person I know- the best, the kindest. And I love you.”
A hitch in breath is all she receives before his lips crash into hers. Closing her eyes, she feels tears fall down her cheeks, but their tracks are interrupted by the thumb catching them. Hak holds her face gently, despite his lips passing over hers again and again, almost relentlessly. Between kisses, she hears him whisper over and over, I don’t deserve you, to which she responds as fervently, you deserve the world, you deserve the world. He chokes between a broken groan and a keen, wrapping his arms around her.
Soon, their kisses slow. Yona relaxes her grip and Hak loosens his hold on her. She opens her eyes to stare at him, bruised lips and all. And for the first time in a while, she feels…happy.
Hak looks at her like she has hung the stars, and she can’t help but let out an embarrassed laugh at that. She ducks her head, feeling her cheeks burn.
“Don’t look at me like tha-”
“I love you.”
Her head snaps up. Hak’s eyes are wide, but soften instantly, as if relieved. He then grasps her hand in both of his and brings it up to kiss her knuckles. Her hand is then rested on his cheek, and he noses her palm, a grin on his face.
Her heart is going to burst out of her chest.
Yona pinches his cheek, and Hak laughs. She smiles.
“Shall we go back? They might have finished the meeting,” she says.
“Mm,” Hak replies, interlacing their fingers once more. His hands are trembling, she notices.
Yona squeezes. “I’m here, alright?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“You’re not alone, okay?”
Hak chuckles. “Yes, Princess.”
Yona gives a huff of satisfaction, and proceeds to bring back the Thunder Beast to where his-their demons lurk, and where humans, instead of monsters, are feared. But they return as comrades-in-arms, trusted companions with each others’ backs. And Yona does not feel fear - she does not need to.
Instead, she tastes victory. Sweet, like honey.