Chapter Text
One month remained before Princess Yona’s sixteenth birthday, and the palace was vibrating with the restless energy of the upcoming biennial tournament. Below the stone pavilion, the kingdom's two most formidable young men were already claiming the training grounds as their personal stage.
Perched on the edge of the pavilion, Yona leaned forward, her red hair escaping its gold pins. She was supposed to be studying her poetry scrolls, but they lay forgotten by her side. Her eyes were glued to the courtyard below.
"Four titles in a row, Hak," Soo-won said, his voice as light and effortless as the breeze. He didn't even look at the target as he polished his bow. "Eight years of the same result. I’m starting to feel a bit lonely at the top. Are you truly losing your edge, or is this your way of being kind to me today?"
Hak snorted, leaning back against his longbow with a predator-like ease. "My edge is fine. It’s the background noise. Hard to hit a target when a certain brat is staring at the back of my head like she’s trying to ignite my hair with her mind."
"I am not staring!" Yona’s voice rang out, sharp and indignant. She abandoned her scrolls—which tumbled unceremoniously to the stone—and marched to the railing. "And I am not a brat! I was perfectly quiet until you started using me as an excuse for your terrible aim!"
"Quiet?" Hak raised an eyebrow, finally looking up with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Princess, I could hear your internal nagging from fifty paces. It’s distracting. Why don't you go find a mirror to tame that forest of hair and let the men work?"
"You—you absolute caveman!" Yona fumed, her face catching fire. She scrambled down the pavilion steps, her silk skirts hissing against the stone as she marched into the center of the range.
"Look at the two of you! You’re supposed to be the kingdom’s finest, but you’re standing here gossiping like village women at a well!"
"Princess," Hak said, bowing with a flair that was entirely too mocking. "If you're going to judge the 'gossip,' at least bring us snacks. Being this handsome is hungry work."
"I’m not your servant! And if it's so 'easy' that you can do it while insulting me, then I’m entering too!" Yona announced, her chin raised. "I’ll show everyone that a 'brat' can hit the mark better than the Thunder Beast!"
Hak let out a short, genuine bark of amusement. "You? Princess, you held the riser upside down last time. You’d be a danger to the spectator stands, not the targets."
"I did not! The wood was just... uncooperative!" Yona turned to her cousin, her eyes wide. "Soo-won, tell him!"
Soo-won watched them—Hak, with his mockery masking a fierce protectiveness, and Yona, her frustration hiding a fluttering, unspoken affection. To him, Yona was the precious little sister he’d protected since childhood, and Hak was the idiot friend who was far too stubborn to claim her.
Ten years, he thought, a dry smile touching his lips. I can command a thousand men with a single word, but I cannot move these two a single inch. It’s a tactical absurdity. He looked at Hak—the kingdom’s greatest general, reduced to a brooding teenager by a single pout. If they wouldn't move on their own, Soo-won decided with a flash of mischief, he would simply have to set the stage on fire. Yet, as he looked at Yona’s face, he felt a genuine warmth; he was truly proud to see her wanting to learn, to see that spark of fire in her eyes.
"Actually, Hak is being dramatic," Soo-won said, stepping forward with an innocent smile. "Would you like me to show you the basics, Yona? It would be my honor."
"You? You’d teach me?" Yona’s anger vanished, replaced by a sudden, frantic thumping in her chest.
Soo-won moved behind her, his chest nearly brushing her back. He reached around, his steady fingers enveloping her smaller, trembling hand on the bow's riser. He adjusted her fingers one by one, his skin cool against her palms.
The heat from his hands seeped through the silk of her dress, making her skin prickle as if the air in the courtyard had grown too thin to breathe. Yona’s heart hammered so hard she was certain he could feel the vibration through her sleeve.
"First, relax your shoulders," he whispered near her ear. "Now, your stance is leaning too far back." To fix it, he placed his other hand firmly on the curve of her waist, nudging her forward into a proper line.
The touch was clinical and efficient, yet Yona felt a jolt of electricity shoot down her spine. She looked back at him, her face a deep rose, but as she did, her eyes instinctively flickered toward Hak. She expected a joke, but the atmosphere on the range had shifted.
The birds in the nearby plum trees had gone silent.
Hak had gone unnaturally still. He wasn't even looking at the target anymore; his dark eyes were fixed on Soo-won’s hand resting against her waist with a focus that was borderline predatory. He didn't say a word, but the silence coming from him was heavy and suffocating, like the air before a lightning strike.
Hak watched Soo-won’s fingers linger on her side, and for the first time in a decade, his composure didn't just crack—it shattered. The sight of them nearly overlapping felt like a physical invasion. His knuckles went white as he adjusted his grip, his frame rigid with a raw, jagged tension. Every second Soo-won stayed there was a biting needle of jealousy in his gut.
"See, Hak? I’m doing it!" Yona cheered, her voice breathless. She wanted him to see her success, but more than that, she was searching his face, trying to understand the sudden, dark intensity in his gaze.
"Beginner's luck," Hak grunted. The words were flat, stripped of their usual bite. He turned away sharply, his movements uncharacteristically abrupt as he began to pack his gear. He couldn't stay; if he did, he might actually do something stupid—like pull her away and admit why he couldn't stand the sight of anyone else touching her.
Suddenly, a shadow stretched across the stone.
"Soo-won!"
King Il stood in the archway, his robes billowing. His face was clouded with a rare, panicked sternness. He looked at the bow in Yona’s hand as if it were a poisonous snake. Soo-won’s hand slipped from Yona’s waist instantly as he bowed."Your Majesty."
"Teaching the Princess to handle a weapon? This is strictly forbidden," Il snapped, his voice trembling with genuine fear. "A skill for soldiers, Soo-won. Not for my daughter. I will not have this bloodlust in my house."
"With respect, Uncle," Soo-won began, his voice level, "it isn't about bloodlust. It's about Yona's confidence. I hate the thought of her feeling helpless when Hak and I aren't around to shield her.It is a vital skill—"
"It is not a game for a Princess!" Il interrupted, his expression softening into that stubborn, mournful look. "Come, Yona. Your tutors have been looking for you. Put that... thing down."
As the King led a fuming, protesting Yona back toward the palace, silence reclaimed the grounds. Soo-won stood upright, looking over at Hak, who had finally notched a new arrow. The air around him practically hummed with redirected fury.
Well, Soo-won thought, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. He’d been scolded by the King, but as he watched the vein throbbing in Hak’s temple, he felt the day was a resounding success.
"Still planning to leave, Hak?" Soo-won asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Or do you need to stay and hit a few more targets to cool off?"
Hak didn't answer. He released the string. The arrow whistled through the air with a violent zip, thudding so hard into the center of the bullseye that the target stand rocked and nearly toppled over.
"Shut up" Hak grumbled, already reaching for the next arrow.
Soo-won just smiled. Yes. Definitely a success.