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Hak shoved the South Kai soldier he had just cut down away from him with a grunt, the body making an unceremonious thud to the ground. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a sleeve and surveyed his immediate surroundings to get his bearings. Damp rolled down his temple, and he glanced at his sleeve to see a swath of brown-red blood soaking into the fabric. Likely he reopened the gash above his eyebrow, but he would have to manage.
He could no longer see Shin-Ah and Jae-ha, who had been fighting not five feet away just moments ago. The green dragon may have picked up the blue and jumped to another part of the field, as it appeared the heavier fighting was now taking place on the other side of the river.
Good, he thought with some exasperation. Hopefully that meant they had taken care of the majority of the invaders. The ambush had taken them all by surprise, which was uncharacteristic for the dragons given their heightened senses. Even he usually picked up on the way the ground vibrated with large numbers or how the forest stilled in the slow seconds before an attack. They had been especially vigilant the last few days while traveling the border between South Kai and the Earth Tribe; it seems they mistakenly let down their guard after making their way further inland the day before.
Suddenly a flash of white caught in the corner of Hak’s eye, and he whipped around to see Kija fighting off a small group of soldiers a short distance away. The White Snake looked worn down; he was clutching the shoulder of his dragon arm with his other hand, and Hak realized with dread a stream of blood was steadily seeping through his fingers.
Grip tightening on his glaive, he began stalking towards his friend. Too late, he sensed movement from his periphery and before he could change course or swing his weapon, a concentrated force rammed into his side. Air punched out of his lungs and he felt a sharp pain in his ribs, sending him sprawling on his back. With a groan, he peeled open his eyes to see a South Kai soldier steadying himself after running into Hak at top speed. The soldier recovered quickly and locked on his target once again, charging forward with his sword pointed straight out.
His side screaming, Hak used what strength he had to heave his glaive up and swung out in a clumsy but powerful arc, praying it made impact. He felt the steel strike, and vibrations traveled painfully up the handle through his arm. He winced but kept his grip firm so as not to drop the only defense he had while left vulnerable on the ground.
He lifted his head just enough to see the felled soldier’s blank stare, face contorted in a frozen scream. A small sigh escaped Hak as he let his head fall back to the ground, taking a split second to utter silent thanks for the lucky hit.
Sticking the butt of his weapon into the dirt for leverage, he made to pull himself upright only to falter and drop hard to one knee. An agonizing line of fire tore across his chest, each ragged breath stoking the flame. That soldier must have broken a couple of his ribs. He hung his head for a moment and fixated on a patch of dirt beneath him, collecting his wits and focusing the pain into a finite point, one he could tuck away until the time came to worry about such things. With two more breaths he was ready, or as ready as he could be.
Raising his head once again, he prepared to stand. Except when his gaze lifted, it did so just in time to see an archer several paces away release an arrow, hurtling it’s way towards him with vengeance. No time to think, he threw his arm up as a shield so the arrow would pierce his forearm rather than his face, eyes squeezed shut against the oncoming assault.
The sickening squelch of an arrow burrowing into flesh filled his ears, and he waited for the throbbing sensation to make its presence known. It didn’t come. Carefully, he lowered his arm and cracked open an eye.
He saw red. Not the red of blood leaving his body or pain obscuring his vision. It was the red he saw each night upon closing his eyes and the red he sought each morning the moment he opened them. The red that colored his strongest desires and haunted his deepest fears. The red that served as his guiding force, like a trail of radiant sunlight; that set his life ablaze and drove him forward each day. It was the red of his very heart.
Wisps of crimson hair blew across her face, startlingly vibrant against the alarming pallor of her skin. She stood directly in his path, arms spread wide in a protective stance. Despite the watery tears rimming her eyes, she smiled at him, a near-grimace that still looked beautiful on her delicate face. A crack in fine porcelain. Fragile, lovely, close to breaking.
“Finally,” she exhaled with triumph. “I was able to save you this time.”
With those horrible words, Princess Yona fell to the ground before him, an arrow protruding menacingly just shy of her left shoulder blade. His world tilted on its axis along with her, his vision drained of all color save for her hair and the scarlet pool leaking out of her wound.
A roar ripped through him, guttural and lethal. Hak flung the glaive with deadly precision, carving through the air until it sunk into the chest of the archer who fired the arrow, sending him flying back some distance before pinning him to the ground.
Hak didn’t see this, didn’t look to confirm his kill. He trusted his rage to fulfill its duty. Instead his eyes were fixed on the princess’s slumped form as he scrambled to her on hands and knees.
As gently as he could, he slid his arms under her and cradled her in his lap. Careful not to disturb the arrow, he turned her to face him so he could confirm she was still breathing. After what felt like an eternity, he saw the small swell of her chest rise and fall, and air rushed out of his own lungs in relief. Her breathing was steady, but shallow.
“You idiot!” He whispered fiercely. Or screamed. He wasn’t quite sure. “Why didn’t you stay hidden in the tree line? What were you thinking?!”
He suddenly noticed her quiver was slung over her other shoulder, and it was empty. His hands clenched beneath her slight body. She had been fighting for some time, long enough to expend her stockpile of arrows.
“Idiot,” he said again with venom, but this time it was directed towards himself. How could he have thought she would stay put while he and the dragons went out to fight? He knew her better than this, he should have known she would jump into the fray the minute his back was turned. He should’ve stayed by her side to make sure she was kept safe. Serpentine black loathing coiled in his gut; he would not forgive himself for letting this happen, for failing her once again.
He was beginning to feel her blood saturating his robe where she lay across his knees. Feeling frantic but holding onto composure through sheer force of will, he supported her in one arm while pulling free the black ribboning along the sleeve of his other arm with his teeth. He let the unraveled fabric fall on Yona’s stomach while scanning the both of them for the cleanest linen available. The hem of her cloak seemed the least soiled, so he cautiously maneuvered it from beneath her with his free hand until enough was loose for him to bite and tear off a large swatch.
Picking up both pieces of fabric, he tenderly lifted Yona until she was nearly seated upright, her limp body braced against his chest. He took the torn bit of cloak and wrapped it around the arrow shaft as tightly as possible without disturbing the weapon in order to staunch the bleeding. Securing the bandaging with the black ribbon, he eased her back down, arms protectively encircling her once more. He had to find Yun. Hopefully the boy had actually stayed in his and the princess’s hiding place.
Hak took off at as much of a sprint as he could manage without jostling her highness unnecessarily. He glanced towards the river again to see how the fight was progressing. Between him and the water, bodies of soldiers littered the ground. He could just see the shaft of his glaive sticking up in the air, shooting out of the archer he had slain. Fury threatened to overtake his senses, white hot rage blinding him for a moment before he pushed it back. Anger would not help his princess, not right now. It would have to wait.
Beyond the water, he could barely see all four dragons in battle close together. He prayed this meant they were whittling down South Kai’s final survivors. Turning back towards the trees, he increased his speed incrementally, desperation beginning to take hold. He crashed through the first few feet of brush, hooked a sharp left at their original campsite, and made his way towards the raised tree root finally made visible. Beneath it was a drop and a small cave-like indentation in the earth where Yun and Yona had been instructed to take shelter.
Hak carefully maneuvered himself and the princess over the root and touched down to the damp soil below. He whipped around towards the hollow and his heart bottomed out. Yun wasn’t there. A mix of panicked thoughts overwhelmed his mind, worrying for Yun’s safety and Yona’s closing window of recovery. He was momentarily stunned with indecision, an unfamiliar experience that infuriated him deeply.
“Thunder Beast! I can’t find Yona, she ran of–” Yun burst through the trees to the right with a hopeful expression that quickly transformed to stricken upon seeing their princess in Hak’s arms. Tears readily sprang to his eyes. “Oh no…”
“Yun,” Hak said, his voice husky with barely concealed anguish. “Please. Help her.”
The boy’s eyes took on a determined sheen. “Bring her back to camp, I’ll tend to her right away.”
Hak followed Yun with haste, the young healer immediately laying out a bedroll and motioning for Hak to lay the princess down on her stomach. He obeyed in silence and crouched next to Yun, wanting to stay out of the way but needing to know what would happen even more.
Yun brought his practiced hands up to the bandage over the arrow shaft, gently unfastening the ribbon and clearing the now blood-soaked linen. He sucked in a breath, and Hak’s eyes darted to his face with an unspoken question burned into his irises.
“She’ll be alright,” Yun said, though Hak could hear the quiver in his voice he was trying to hide. “You dressed this wound well, which will help her recover. It seems you’ve learned not to rip arrows clean out, finally.”
Yun’s attempt at levity was appreciated but did nothing to subdue the wired energy in Hak’s nerves. He watched as Yun prepared some ointments, warm water, and clean bandages, ready to jump and grab a supply when requested. Once everything was gathered, Yun took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When they opened, he looked at Hak with renewed authority.
“Alright, Thunder Beast. You aren’t going to like this, but I need you to do as I say. You need to roll Yona onto her good side so the injured shoulder is close to me, and then hold her steady.” He took another deep breath before continuing, “I’m going to have to break the shaft, and then push the arrow all the way through in order to remove it.”
Blood pounded in Hak’s ears, making white spots dance across his vision. He understood this would be necessary; not only had he seen the young boy treat a multitude of arrow wounds, but he had been on the receiving end of such treatment more times than he could count. Still, his brain hadn’t let him think this far. He could only focus on the immediate next action, and now they were here before he was ready.
He nodded resolutely, face hardened. “I’ll do whatever you need as long as she’ll be okay.”
Yun gave a short murmur of acknowledgement and then began directing Hak soberly through each step. Hak turned the princess on her side as instructed and held her tight as he watched Yun break the arrow. He set the fletching end down next to him and squared his shoulders before starting the painstaking process of pushing the arrowhead so it would exit through the other side. Once the steel tip began to poke through her smooth skin, Hak diverted his gaze to the princess’s face, focusing on the short bursts of air leaving her nostrils with each exhale. At least she wasn’t awake to endure this moment, he thought. He would endure it for her.
Once the arrow was safely removed, Yun worked quickly: stopping the new bleeding, applying ointment to both ends of the wound to ward against infection, and expertly wrapping Yona’s shoulder with clean linens. With the last knot tied, Yun sat back on his heels and sighed, wiping the beading sweat from his brow. Hak turned her over almost reverently so that she was resting on her back. He didn’t quite let her go, letting his fingers slide down her arm to hold her hands in his, encased with a silent plea. He felt a tender pressure on his shoulder and looked up to see Zeno, his hand offered in support and features mingled with both worry and compassion. Behind Zeno, the other dragons slowed from their run back to camp as they took in the scene, Kija holding Hak’s glaive and Jae-ha carrying Shin-Ah on his back. They all met Hak’s eyes simultaneously, and he felt like he might finally buckle under the weight of their shared concern.
“Yona will be okay,” Yun’s voice cut through the heavy silence. “She is okay. We have nothing to worry about except making sure she’s comfortable as she heals.”
The dragons all nodded gravely, trusting their boy genius at his word. Hak was grateful for the way they didn’t hover or attempt to speak to him directly. Hearing them talk amongst each other in his presence brought much needed comfort, but he didn’t think he would be able to get words out himself. They each took a turn being treated by Yun, save for Zeno who was on his way to full regeneration. He had apparently held his hand in the flame of a fallen torch for several minutes, letting the flesh burn away until scales grew in its place as hard and powerful as the White Snake’s. This ended up giving them the edge they needed to finish the last of the soldiers. Still, the thought of Zeno enduring such agony made Hak so sick to his stomach he nearly retched.
Once all the dragons had been treated, Hak reluctantly let Yun tend to him as well, as long as he did so at the princess’s bedside. He was fortunate that the gash on his forehead and the broken ribs were the worst of his injuries; there were various other scrapes and bruises that he let Yun balm and bandage, though he felt mostly numb to his own pain anyway.
Yun prepared a simple meal for everyone and offered to stay up with Shin-Ah for first watch. The band rejected this vehemently, insisting the boy get some rest. Jae-ha decided to accompany the blue dragon, and everyone else made ready for sleep. Hak carried her highness to the bedroll she usually slept in within her and Yun’s tent. He stood above the blankets a moment cradling her against him, not willing to let her go.
“You stay with her tonight.” Hak turned to find Yun in the threshold of the tent’s entrance. “I’ll bunk with the other beasts so you can watch over her. Come get me if you need to.” He turned to go, but Hak called to him, the first sound he had made in the hours since they finished treating the princess.
“Thank you, Yun.” It came out cracked and laden with unshed tears, but he pushed past the discomfort. “It’s not enough for me to just say it, but thank you.”
Yun smiled knowingly at him and exited the tent. Hak turned back to the bedding and laid the princess down, nestling her in with extra padding from the blankets on the other bedroll where he would definitely not be sleeping. Sitting down next to her, he circled his arms loosely around his knees and clasped his hands together in front of them. He watched the rise and fall of her chest with great care, scrutinizing for any irregularity or sign of distress. To everyone’s relief, her breathing had gradually gotten stronger throughout the night, and so far it had given no indication of becoming labored.
At some point, Hak must have drifted off while still sitting up. All he knew was that he had been watching the princess one moment and then his eyes flew open the next, a sound breaking through the fog of his fitful slumber. He looked around blearily before glancing down to find the princess’s eyes open, holding him in her careful gaze. His breath caught at the sight.
“Hak?...” her voice came out light and scratchy, scraping like sandpaper over wood.
Hak shuddered with a laugh that was actually a breathy sob. She was awake, she was alive. His resilient princess. Without reply, he fell forward and embraced her, conscious to avoid her injury. He couldn’t hold her as tight as he wanted which drove him mad, but he still relished the feel of her against him, warm with life.
He pulled back to look at her face, her eyes lucid and clear. All the questions he wanted to ask, why did you come out of hiding, why did you risk your life, why did you save mine, died on his tongue.
“How do you feel, Your Highness?” he whispered, face hovering above hers, eyes searching. She gave a soft groan and her eyelids pinched closed, discomfort obvious in the furrow of her brow.
“Not bad,” came her strained reply. When she peeked at him and saw the doubt written plainly on his face, she sighed and admitted, “Okay, pretty terrible. But better than I would have thought, given this is my first arrow wound.”
A tense silence followed. The questions creeped back into Hak’s mind, fueled by his self loathing, his inability to predict what she would do and stop her.
He felt her hand cover his gently as it rested next to where she laid. Her touch somehow managed to both soothe and spike the inner turmoil twisting within him. Meeting her gaze once again, he saw a myriad of words unspoken in her eyes. They were beseeching; not quite asking for forgiveness, but rather for understanding and acceptance of her choice.
Drawn in by the potency of her plea, Hak felt his body leaning further down of its own accord. His face gravitated closer to hers, mesmerized by her presence and the intoxicating reality of her living, breathing form. His eyes slid shut as he continued forward, nearly closing the gap between them completely before he remembered himself.
Eyes widening, he reared back a few inches and stared at her, uncertain. She stared back, but not with confusion or irritation. Instead, her eyes seemed to shine with stronger emotions he couldn’t identify. Or rather, emotions he was hesitant to name for fear he was wrong about what he saw.
In barely a whisper, he asked, “Is this allowed?” His eyes drifted lazily down to her too small mouth for an instant, then snapped back to her watchful gaze.
“Yes,” she breathed, just as faint, “it’s allowed.” A shy smile flickered across her features.
Hak gaped unbelieving for the length of a heartbeat, taking a quiet gulp. With deliberate, careful movements, he closed his eyes and lowered himself towards her again until his lips brushed hers as softly as he dared. The velvet feel of them was like a trickle of cool water while he was dying of thirst, but he restrained his urges so as not to overwhelm her or overstep. He propped his arms on either side of her head, holding himself above her. His hands clenched into the fabric beneath them, clinging to his control.
He felt the featherlight touch of her hand slide into his hair, extracting a quick intake of breath. Keeping very still, he allowed her to move her hand further back around his neck. Her fingers played there timidly for a few seconds before grasping at the base of his head and pressing him closer, deepening the kiss. He matched her ferocity without hesitation while still holding back the force of his own passion, letting her set the pace. Her lips explored his earnestly, dedicated to their task. He marveled at the sensation, the soft friction sending trails of wildfire rippling over every inch of his skin. He felt drunk on the way her breath hitched against his, soaking her exhales into his body and letting them heal the wounds hidden in the deepest parts of him.
After a few moments she relented, and he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, eyes still closed tight. His breathing became ragged as if he were fighting again, though this was the result of suppressed, warring emotions rather than physical pain from any of his injuries.
“I’m sorry I failed you,” he rasped. The words were inadequate, just like him. She deserved better. Not only better words, but a better man that wouldn’t allow a situation where such words were warranted.
“You didn’t fail me.”
Her voice was quiet but firm. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, instead pressing his forehead harder against hers, as if he could make her understand the weight of his sorrow and shame through the pressure.
“Hak, look at me.”
That was a command, and ever the dutiful servant, he obeyed his sovereign. When he sat up and opened his eyes to meet hers, he was struck by the fire blazing there. He had seen this fierce look hundreds of times, but it never managed to not take his breath away. Fixing him in place with her gaze, she continued.
“Now you listen to me. You have never failed me. You are the one constant I have in my tumultuous life, an unyielding fortress when everything else crumbles around me. When I am seized with anger or despair, you are the one who grounds me. When I am lost in my grief, you find me and guide me home. When I’m broken, you put me back together or hold me together until I can manage it on my own. Without you, I would lose a vital part of myself. Sometimes I lose a part of myself anyway, hazy with the burden of everything we’ve been through and everything that’s to come. But each time, you pick up the pieces and remind me who I am. All of that is only possible because of who you are. If it weren’t for you, I’d be long dead or lost or shattered beyond repair. So don’t you dare tell me that you’ve failed me, because you save me every single day.”
He flinched at her words, unable to bear the intensity of either her reprimand or her praise. She doesn’t understand, he thought for a desperate moment. But no, that would be unfair to her. She has seen and learned more hard truths than anyone should have to. She understands more than anyone else could.
He bowed his head in acceptance, not agreeing but choosing to try. She was his monarch, his general, and his heart. There would never come a day when he would disrespect her orders, so he would try to let her make these decisions without hating himself for it. He would protect her while trying to let her protect him in turn. It wouldn’t be easy, but he would fight for everything she wanted as long as she allowed him to stay by her side.
As if reading his thoughts, her fingers touched under his chin, beckoning his head to rise. Her smile was radiant, and he tethered himself to her touch and her gaze.
“I want you, Hak. I told you that from the beginning, and it’s still true now. I want you just as you are, to be with me always. You are enough.”
He couldn’t stop the roguish smile that spread across his face in response. He remembered when she said those words to him as he tried to leave her behind in Fuuga Capital. It nearly made him pass out, and it threatened to have a similar effect even now.
Yona’s eyes sparkled with mirth, and she reached up with her good arm to grab a fistful of his robe collar, tugging him to her again. Another command, one he was all too eager to follow. He let her drag him down, aching to swear his allegiance.