Chapter Text
Ryu Rumi, known simply as Rue, hated being stuck in bed. Outside, she spied the late morning sun, shining low to the east in the clear blue sky. She could hear the turtle doves that nested each spring in the eave above her bedroom window, cooing excitedly. The breeze drifted in through the open window and carried the sweet, honey scent of the yoo-chae flowers. She wanted to escape and run through the field, the grass and blossoms tickling her bare feet. She longed to climb the branches of the trees around the property and run through the creek down the hill to chase frogs. She looked forward to catching fireflies beneath the dangsan tree when the sun set and the moon took its place in a darkened sky.
Instead of doing fun things a ten-year-old had every right to enjoy, Rue was laying in bed with her leg wrapped and propped onto an oversized pillow. Rue didn’t think an injured leg was a good enough reason to be stuck indoors on a beautiful day, but she had been unjustly overruled and placed on bed rest for the next several days by her eomma. She crossed her arms and pouted at the army of plushies that surrounded her on the bed.
“I will have my revenge for this,” Rue said petulantly to the stuffed blue tiger to her immediate right. The tiger stared back with his bright yellow eyes and Rue concentrated intently, listening to his imagined response. She glanced at the stuffed magpie perched on top of the tiger’s head as it weighed in wordlessly. They were her favorite plushies, with the bird held in its place with magnets and both providing Rue excellent counsel when she required it. Due to their importance, they were kept in the place of honor directly beside her.
She answered the tiger’s silent suggestion, “you’re right Derpy, we have all day to plan our revenge for this treatment. I know you and Sussie will help. When I am out of this bed, justice will be served.”
Appeased with her course of action, Rue snuggled into the tiger’s side, wrapping her arm around its oversized head to bring it in closer. She rubbed her cheek against his soft ear, humming her favorite song. She contemplated ringing the bell her eomma had provided for emergencies during her forced convalescence, pondering whether a glass of chocolate milk qualified.
Before Rue had a chance to decide on the merits of her intended request, a soft knock sounded on her bedroom door. Excellent timing. “You may enter,” Rue called out regally.
Her eomma, Mi-Young, stepped into the room, her long, dark braid swinging behind her. “How is my little Rue this morning?” Mi-Young perched gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle Rue’s leg.
“Booooored,” Rue dramatically flung her arms above her head and lay back on her pillow. Having expired from lack of proper stimulation she lay there for precisely half a second before sitting back up with sudden recollection. “Oh! And in desperate need of choccy milk!”
“Of course, I’ll bring some in,” Mi-Young smiled and affectionately tucked a stray bit of hair behind Rue’s ear. “I know how much you hate being stuck inside, so I have a visitor for you.”
Rue sat up even more, excitement showing in her features. Her eyes grew wide, sparkling with curiosity, and a smile spread across her face as she bounced ever so slightly, careful not to shake her lower limbs. “Who is it? A friend to play games with me?”
“Even better! Celine is here to see you!”
Rue’s face fell and her excited bouncing stilled immediately. “Oh. Why is Celine here to see me? Can’t you tell her I’m injured?” Her voice conveyed utter disappointment at the news.
“She’s here to see you because you’re injured. She wants to spend time with you.” Mi-Young patted Rue’s hand in a reassuring gesture.
“Why?” Rue was clearly perplexed. Celine was nice enough and her eomma sure seemed to like her, but she was painfully awkward around Rue.
Mi-Young sighed, but smiled indulgently at her only daughter. “Because you’re important to me, so you’re important to her too.”
“She doesn’t know how to play at all or talk about anything fun.” Rue put her hand around her mouth and whispered her next words, as though conveying a secret, “And she is always drinking that stinky fruit juice.”
Mi-Young chuckled softly. “You know she’s actually a pretty cool woman when you get to know her.” She leaned forward, adding very seriously, “When you’re older she can even teach you how to dual wield swords.” Rue’s eyes widened with interest, now considering Celine with tentative appreciation. Mi-Young smiled and added, “Just…give her a chance, Rue? For me?”
Her eomma was playing her like a fiddle and Rue knew it. Enticing her with promises of future weapons mastery and appealing to love for her eomma. As much as Mi-young loved to spoil Rue, Rue loved to please her eomma in equal measure. Rumi sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, looking over at Derpy and Sussie, who stared back at her and communicated reluctant agreement. “I suppose you’re right Sussie, it’s not like we have anything better to do right now.” Rue looked back at her eomma and nodded. “You may send her in.”
“You are so magnanimous, thank you,” Mi-Young gave a serious nod of acknowledgement before standing and walking back to the door. As she opened it, Rue leaned forward and saw Celine pacing nervously in the hallway. Rue could hear them whispering but couldn’t make out what they were saying, which she found to be rude. There was a hint of worry in Celine’s voice, while Mi-Young’s carried a bit of exasperation. Finally, Rue saw her eomma throw her hands up in the air and exclaim, “Just tell her a damn story or something, but get in there!” Without waiting for a response, Mi-Young walked past Celine and Rue could hear her heavy footsteps as she marched down the hall.
Celine took a deep breath before stepping into the bedroom and smiling awkwardly at Rue. “Hi.”
“Good morning,” Rue answered primly. She thought of her eomma’s request to give Celine a chance, and softened a bit. She motioned to the squashy yellow chair in the corner of the room, saying, “You can sit down if you’d like. It’s a very comfortable chair.” Celine looked at it like a lifeline, taking her time picking it up and moving it closer to the side of Rue’s bed. She sat down, back straight and ankles crossed, folding her hands into her lap to keep them from fidgeting any more than they already were.
Rue looked at Celine expectantly, but Celine remained awkwardly prim and out of place in the brightly colored chair. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the colorful decor until finally landing on Rue. “I could…tell you a story. If you’d like.”
“I like stories. Is it about someone cool?” Rue asked, pulling Derpy and Sussie in close so she could settle in.
“Like a princess?” Celine asked.
Rue made a face of clear distaste. “Princesses are boring. It should be about someone badass, like eomma.”
Celine choked on air. Although she was in complete agreement about the assessment of both princesses and Mi-Young, she was taken aback by Rue’s choice of words. “Uh…well there’s a book my eomeoni used to read to me when I was your age, I can try to remember it. It has a princess, but she isn’t a damsel in distress kind of princess. She’s much more…”
“Badass?”
Celine was unsure if she should allow the language to continue, but ultimately shrugged her shoulders and said, “Yeah, she’s pretty badass.”
Rue smiled. Maybe Celine wasn’t going to be so boring after all. “What’s the story about?”
“True love,” Celine answered whistfully, looking up a little, imagining a special someone.
“Oh,” Rue sounded skeptical. “It’s one of those stories.”
Celine leaned forward, excited for the first time since entering the bedroom. “It has so much more though! It has revenge, chases, escapes, miracles, sword fighting, and torture.”
Rue perked up a bit, before leaning back and trying to remain casual. She didn’t want to seem too excited. “That sounds pretty cool, I can try and stay awake.”
“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” Celine said with a half smile. She was starting to appreciate Rue more and more, finding her much easier to talk to compared to other kids. She had never spent time with her alone, Mi-Young was always with them. It turned out Rue had a bit more sass than she knew, and Celine appreciated that.
Celine took a moment to recall the story from her memory. She knew she wasn’t going to remember all the details, but the story itself was still familiar for her and she could make up the rest. “The story begins in the Kingdom of Jeju, a long time ago.”
“How long ago was it? Before I was born?”
“Oh, long before that Rue,” Celine answered. “Before your eomma or I were even born, or our parents before that.”
“Was there choccy milk?” Rue’s eyes had widened, trying to imagine a time before herself, her family, or her favorite beverage.
“Long before choccy milk,” Celine said seriously, acknowledging the gravity of Rue’s revelation before continuing. “A long time ago, there was a beautiful woman with raven hair who lived with…”
“Purple! It should be purple hair,” Rue said, picking up the end of her braid and running her fingers along her own lavender tresses.
Celine smiled and nodded. “Of course Rue. She had very long purple hair and her name was Buttercup…”
“Celine?” Rue seemed slightly hesitant, as though she was nervous of asking for too much. “Could her name be Rumi?”
Celine smiled indulgently. “Yes, her name can be Rumi.”
~ ~ ~
Rumi lived on the island Kingdom of Jeju on a small nongjang with her eomeoni. Rumi loved her pastoral life. She woke early each morning to watch the sun rise, the shining rays revealing the shades of green that colored the hillsides and the sparkling blue of the water beyond the curves of the land. Their fields were not expansive, but enough to grow millet, tangerines, carrots, white radishes and small amounts of other herbs and vegetables that kept their table comfortably full. The harvest each year was just enough to sell in town so they could live well enough to employ a nongbu to help maintain the land and care for the small number of animals they kept.
The nongbu was a tall, strong woman with hair a deep shade of pink, which she kept tied back in a knot. At the end of each day she untied it, letting the soft strands fall down her back. Not that Rumi took notice. Rumi just appreciated how diligent Mira was in her work, so focused on ensuring the nongjang ran with a smooth efficiency.
Her name was Mira.
Rumi worked alongside Mira, taking pride in working the land of their nongjang and considering it her responsibility to sustain its success. Never afraid to get her hands dirty, physically and metaphorically, Rumi rolled up her sleeves each day and tended the land. She just wanted to provide for her eomeoni. She supposed she wanted to provide for Mira as well, who lived on the land in a small cabin, occasionally sharing meals with them. Working together, the nongjang flourished.
Mira had a quiet stoicism, giving little away when she first arrived. After a time, Rumi began to see cracks in her exterior that revealed a softer nature than she would admit. It was in the way a small smile would turn up one corner of her mouth at something Rumi said. Or in the gentle way she would coax their horse, Apple, into the stable at night, stroking her mane and whispering words of affection as she scratched her back. It was in the way she cared for Rumi in small ways, such as carrying the heaviest baskets after a day of harvest, knowing Rumi could carry the weight but taking them herself anyways.
As they grew more comfortable with each other, Rumi began teasing Mira by making silly requests, just to see how much Mira would do for her. Never growing angry or irritated, Mira would simply smirk and answer, “As you wish, Princess.”
At first, Rumi scoffed at the nickname, detesting the fussy and frivolous implications. Rumi had left in a huff the first time, flustered for reasons she couldn’t pin down. Her requests became increasingly menial, almost as a dare for Mira to say it again.
“Nongbu,” Rumi would say, refusing to address her by name. Perhaps a little out of spite or maybe because saying Mira’s name out loud made her heart skip. “Bring in the baskets of millet, we’ll need to be ready to grind them in the morning.”
Mira looked at the baskets which lay at Rumi’s own feet and then at Rumi’s empty hand. With a casual swipe of a stray hair behind her ear, Mira gave a half smile and answered “As you wish, Princess.” Rumi turned on her heel and walked away, barely catching the light chuckle from Mira that carried a resonant but almost musical sound.
“Nongbu,” Rumi called over her shoulder. “Prepare Apple’s saddle for me, I’d like to take her for a ride today.”
Mira crossed her arms and smiled in amusement, unbothered by the request. “As you wish, Princess.”
Rumi unconsciously smiled in response, adding a soft, “Thank you.”
It was the way Mira looked at her, with a bit of enjoyment and the spark of something entirely different. Or the way she moved around Rumi with careful precision, never touching but always within reach. Maybe it was just how her voice sounded each time she called Rumi Princess, like a whisper into her ear and through her heart, making it flutter.
Something in it made Rumi realize that what Mira was really saying was that she loved her. What’s more, as Rumi watched Mira gingerly reach up and pluck a tangerine from a tree before looking over to catch her eye and smile, Rumi realized she returned the feeling.
Days went by after her revelation and Rumi found herself alone in the kitchen with Mira, who was busy preparing a meal for them before they began their daily chores outside. Her eomeoni was gone for the day, taking some of the week’s crops to sell in town. Rumi found herself watching Mira, pausing her own task of slicing pickled ginger and radishes as she took in the other woman’s movements. Mira was chopping vegetables, her long fingers nimbly moving the knife to create long cuts of carrots, mushrooms, and zucchini to stir fry in the pan warming on the stove. A pot of rice was waiting, already cooked.
Mira’s hair was down, not yet pulled back for the day's tasks, but draped over her back. She paused to run one hand through it, moving it off her shoulder and out of the way so it didn’t touch the food she was preparing. Rumi noticed how the light filtering through the window caught the pink tones, so it shone with shades of amaranth, cerise, and even a hint of lavender. Rumi longed to run her fingers through it, wondering how soft it would feel.
“Mira,” Rumi said, only realizing she had spoken her name out loud after the sound echoed quietly in the room. Mira’s hands stilled, and she turned to look at Rumi, raising one eyebrow in silent question. Rumi had no plan, acting on instinct to ask, “Fetch me the kettle?”
Mira looked to Rumi’s left at the kettle resting on a shelf just over her shoulder, clearly within her reach. Once their eyes met, Rumi never looked away. Couldn’t, even if she had wanted to. Mira’s gaze sparked with intention as she set the knife down next to the carrot she had been slicing. She took her time, her movements slow and her eyes never once leaving Rumi’s.
It felt like an eternity as Mira’s long legs took deliberate steps towards Rumi. When she stopped, she was only a few inches away and Rumi could feel the heat from her. Rumi’s breath caught and she was sure Mira could hear her heart beating faster. Although Mira was only a couple inches taller, Rumi had to tilt her head up when she was this close. Mira reached her right hand over Rumi’s shoulder, her arm just short of brushing against Rumi’s hair but still creating an electric feeling from the proximity. As Mira’s hand wrapped around the teapot she leaned forward just slightly, the inches between them getting smaller and her mouth dangerously close to Rumi’s right ear.
Rumi could feel Mira’s breath as she said, barely above a whisper, “As you wish, Princess.”
Rumi inhaled sharply at Mira’s words, and Mira pulled back enough to look at Rumi once more. Mira took the kettle and placed it onto the table directly behind Rumi, moving her hand to gently take Rumi’s. Their fingers laced together and it felt so natural, as though they had done it a thousand times before. In some ways they had, for they both had been imagining it for so long. Mira’s other hand reached up to cup Rumi’s cheek, tilting her head back further as she leaned down to kiss Rumi…
~ ~ ~
“Celiiiine!” Rue’s exclamation of shock and contempt startled Celine out of her focused storytelling. “Is this a kissing story?”
Celine paused and looked at Rue, surprised by the question. “Well…there’s some kissing. Not a lot of kissing.”
“Eomma said I’m too young for kissing and would have to wait until I’m older,” Rue stated. She took a sip of the chocolate milk Mi-Young had brought in while Celine had been telling the story, before leaving with a wink. “I asked her about it after I saw you kiss her on the front porch when you were…”
“Okay!” Celine turned a vibrant shade of pink. She decided she was not going to address that at the moment. “Um…well your eomma is correct, you are too young to kiss someone else. But…this is just a story and it's not much kissing. I can skip it if you prefer?”
Rue considered the offer before shrugging her shoulders. “As long as it isn’t a lot, you can continue.”
Celine nodded, glad this situation didn’t necessitate further discussion at this time. She made a mental note to talk to Mi-Young about it before she left. She cleared her throat several times before continuing.
~ ~ ~
After sharing that first kiss, Rumi and Mira took their breakfast and sat under the dangsan tree, ignoring the fields that needed tending and the house that required tidying. The crops and cobwebs would wait for them. For one day, they let themselves be selfish and carefree.
Sitting in the shade of the tree, they talked for hours. They spoke their shared feelings aloud to ensure there was no mistaking how they felt for one another. Discussions confirmed their desire to be together, seeding the roots so their new relationship could grow. The two spoke about what they wanted from a partner and for their futures, to know they shared the same vision for what was to come. When talking was no longer needed, they lay in each other’s embrace against the trunk of the tree. It was a day for understanding, promises, and the beginning of a great love.
From that day forward, Rumi and Mira were inseparable. They continued working side by side, but now as partners. Rumi toiled next to Mira, always working in tandem with one another. After the initial surprise, Rumi’s eomeoni was pleased. Seeing her daughter so happy was all she ever truly wanted.
When the work was done each day, they spent long evenings at the base of the dangsan tree, sharing their supper and watching as the sun set over the hills, painting the sky in shades of pink, purple and blue. The fireflies would dance around them as they talked long into the night, hand in hand.
As time passed, the two only fell more in love.
Books lined a small shelf in Rumi’s home that told stories of romance, written onto yellowed pages. She had heard sonnets recited that made metaphors of love out of the sun, moon, and stars. Sometimes, her eomeoni hummed the tunes of ballads with melodies that sang words like an exhalation of devotion.
None of these came close to Rumi and Mira, for their love was true love.
It was beneath the very same dangsan tree they had laid under together so many nights that Mira took Rumi’s hands in her own, and asked if she would marry her. Rumi accepted without even a moment’s hesitation, embracing Mira with tears in her eyes and love filling her heart.
As a humble nongbu, Mira was not in possession of a great fortune. Shortly after Rumi had agreed to marry her, she made the decision to seek out her fortune across the sea. Determined to earn enough to purchase their own plot of land and build a home, Mira prepared to set out aboard a merchant ship. The night before she was to leave, Mira held Rumi in her arms, overlooking the sea that sparkled with the fading twilight and stars that began dotting the sky.
“What if you never return, Mira?” Rumi asked, looking to the depths of Mira’s brown eyes and seeing only the confident belief their love would endure all reflected back at her.
“Hear me, Princess,” Mira said softly, hands holding Rumi’s waist with a firm sureness. “I will always come for you.”
“And if you die trying?” A tear formed in the corner of Rumi’s eyes, trembling before finally falling down her cheek. Mira reached up and gently brushed it away with her finger, offering a small smile of reassurance.
“Death cannot stop true love.”
Rumi wanted to believe her. She loved Mira enough that let herself believe, despite the worries and fears that felt like the tendrils of vines in her mind. So she let herself be swept into Mira’s embrace that night, saying, “Come back to me.”
When Rumi woke the next morning, Mira was gone. On the table was a single dongbaek blossom and a note that read As you wish, Princess.
Every day Mira was away, Rumi fell deeper into her fears. She moved like a ghost through the chores they once completed together, working twice as hard as she tried not to dwell on the lonely feelings that consumed her.
Every night, Rumi sat under the dangsan tree, their tree, and wrote a letter to Mira. She didn’t know when she would be able to send them, but each day she told Mira the color of the sunsets, what she ate, what she dreamed about, and how not a moment passed when Mira wasn’t in her thoughts and heart. She didn’t want Mira to miss a single moment, so Rumi meticulously put everything onto paper.
Rumi would never get the chance to send her letters.
It was four months, one week, and three days after Mira had departed when Rumi finally received word of the merchant ship she had boarded. Rumi’s heart stopped in her chest and her breath was taken from her as she read the note sent to her from a contact on the mainland.
Mira’s ship had been attacked by the Demon Pirate Gwi-Ma, the plundered wreckage found drifting miles from shore. The notorious pirate had sailed the seas for decades, and the legends all told the same dark tale: the pirate was a merciless demon sent from hell, who left no survivors.
Mira had been murdered.
~ ~ ~
Celine anticipated the gasp.
“Celine, what kind of story is this?” Rue’s eyes were wide with worry and she pulled Derpy into a hug so tight that Sussie threatened to topple off his head. “You promised me true love and sword fighting!”
Celine smiled reassuringly, recalling her own reactions the first time she heard this story. “I will keep that promise Rue, you have my word.”
Rue’s bottom lip gave a bit of tremble. “But…Mira should never have left! And now she’s…she’s dead? Rumi should have told her to stay because…having a fortune doesn’t matter when you’re in love! This is sad!” Rue was getting increasingly upset, her voice breaking with emotion.
“You’re right, it is sad right now. Even happy stories can have a little sadness,” Celine put her hand on top of Rue’s, giving it a little pat. Rue was calming down after a few breaths, so Celine asked, “Do you want me to continue? I’m sure we can find a game instead…”
“No!” Rue quickly answered with sharp emphasis. “Keep going. It’s ok if…if it’s a little sad right now. I trust you.”
Celine didn’t take that trust for granted. With her hand still on top of Rue’s to provide comfort, she nodded and continued.
~ ~ ~
Rumi was consumed by the loss of Mira. That night, Rumi stood in the same spot she had stood that last night with her, remembering the feel of being in her warm embrace and the reassurances Mira had given her. It had been her greatest fear, her deepest dread. Mira had been so sure their love would endure anything, even death.
Surely no one can escape death.
She walked to their dangsan tree and allowed herself this one night. She let the pain flow through her and permitted tears to fall into the dirt to water the roots beneath her. She carved an M into the trunk, just as Mira had carved a place in her heart that would never heal. She vowed that when she walked away, she would leave her grief there, beneath the tree. There was never a doubt in her mind when she spoke the words to the wind that night, letting them be carried across the fields she once tended at Mira’s side.
“I will never love again.”
When there was nothing left around her but darkness, Rumi walked away from their tree. She was determined not to fail her eomeoni, who still needed her to help on the nongjang. So, she took several steadying breaths, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Satisfied with her composure, she returned home.
The sun would rise again, and so would she. Not as bright as before, not as whole. But she was strong. She would be strong, no matter how she hurt.
Despite how Mira had teased, Rumi was no princess. She would endure.