Chapter Text
Everyone hears of the argument between Princess Yona and her father. Rumors fly through the halls of a girl of only 14 demanding the rights to hold a sword and fight, to travel the country and address the problems ailing the people.
Everyone hears of how the King strikes down those demands.
- “You don’t need to worry about such things.”
- “You’re young, stop fretting about what’s out there.”
- “Yona, I’ve told you before, I will not permit you to wield weapons.”
The girl stands on her own two feet before the King, and argues against it all.
“I refuse to be sheltered any longer. Teach me what I wish to know.”
The King relents, and starts to teach her politics.
(Everyone knows he goes light.)
(The servants pick up quick, however, that her demands don’t stop with him.)
“Min-Soo, when you have a moment, can you bring me books on medicine? Especially poisons, their symptoms, and their antidotes?”
Min-Soo looks up from the tincture he’d been working on to see the Princess standing in the entryway of his work-room in the medical wing. It takes him a second to process the question, but when he does he tilts his head. “I can, your Highness, but what do you need them for?”
She slips into the room and shuts the door behind her. “You’re loyal to my father, and I am glad of that fact. I wouldn’t ask you to do something he has explicitly forbidden, but I fear going through him on this matter would only result in rejection.”
With a pause, Yona wanders over to a nearby table, eyeing the jars there. She reaches toward one, but stops at the last moment.
(It’s willow bark, used to treat pain. Min-Soo doesn’t ask, but he wonders what draws her to it. Maybe not asking is a failure of his duty, though she always voiced her aches and pains. Maybe she doesn’t want to draw attention to the results of her illicit activities.)
(Maybe he’s worried about how this innocuous request of hers could be cast as divided loyalty.)
“My father hasn’t banned me from the subject, not yet, but I’ve never expressed interest in medicine around him before. I know the realities of it can be… unpleasant. Sickness and death are not like the beautiful things I have been surrounded by all my life. The toll poison can take on a body would be ugly, and knowing of it could be considered a dangerous weapon—even if all I wish to do is treat the damage.”
Like any other servant, he’s heard whispers these past few days of the Princess slipping off into the forest with General Hak and Lord Soo-Won, with a bow and arrows. With Lord Soo-Won bringing books and maps. He’d heard the whispers of Yona and His Majesty sitting to discuss introductory politics (and how some things were… glossed over).
Min-Soo had not heard of the frustration in her voice. Nor had he heard those particular tones from her before, the stress a clear bubble in her throat she is speaking through.
“You… want to learn medicine?” Four days ago she was a sheltered princess. Now?
Princess Yona nods, resolution in her eyes as she meets his gaze. “If my father will not allow me a weapon, maybe in time I can convince him that a future queen ought to be allowed to know the healer’s path. Already he hides truths from me, such as the true state of the northern Fire Tribe region, of which Soo-Won has informed me. I won’t ask you to keep this a secret if he questions you, but if you don’t inform him, and are vague enough if he does ask…”
A Princess’s passing curiosity must be indulged. A convenient enough excuse to allow him to avoid trouble. “I can bring you books. Forgive me the question if it is out of bounds, Princess, but why poisons?”
“My mother may have died to a sword, but there are many ways to kill. Some are more insidious than others.” She closes her eyes, and even as she takes a deep breath he feels for the first time as if she could be intimidating.
Moments later, she opens her eyes again and smiles wide. “And besides! If I’m spending more time in the woods with Hak and Soo-Won, and I see an interesting plant that looks edible, I want to be careful before I eat it! I’ve had to stop Hak from picking a mushroom already!”
He laughs, just a little, but that feeling hasn’t abated. “I’ll make sure at least one book is a foraging guide, then. And,” he lowers his voice, “I think it’s admirable that you’re trying to learn, Your Highness.”
“Oh, yes, a foraging guide would be wonderful, thank you! Maybe other illnesses too…? Chronic ones, and their treatments? It would be nice to be able to help others, delaying onset and lessening the strain and immediacy of death…”
Before he gets a chance to comment on that, she turns and walks away, still mumbling to herself.
Min-Soo shakes his head and turns back to his work.
It’s nice to see the Princess choosing to seek out knowledge, even when it’s been hidden from her. She deserves some freedoms, at least.
He won’t pry into what led her to this sudden change, but he will make sure she receives willow tea for any conspicuous aches and pains.
Yona’s schedule is thus:
In the mornings, she will rise and eat breakfast. As she eats, she reads.
She meets with her father for two hours after, to hear what he has to say about their country. But he is a busy man, so two hours is all he can spare.
In the time before lunch, she reads.
After food is finished, she and Hak disappear into the forest. On the record, this is time spent learning how to handle horses, and otherwise taking a break in the shade to relax.
(The servants see Hak take the bow, take the arrows. Sky Tribe soldiers see them at the archery ranges. She greets each person kindly and by name, offers them food, and smiles. They do not tell her father, nor report it to anyone else).
Soo-Won is often there, going over the happenings of their kingdom and the others nearby. Any new news, and history lessons, and she shoots. Hak fills in the details when he can. They discuss tactics, how to move troops, what to be wary of in combat, what training can be done in what amount of time, how to manage supply lines.
If they are surprised by how well she keeps up with this, they keep it to themselves after the first three times she fills in a pause without even looking at their maps.
At dinner, she reads.
Afterwards, she spends time with Hak again, playing games of tag across the palace grounds.
(Seeing how easy it is for her to disappear, to slip past the gates and into the proper trees. Testing his tracking skills against her quiet footsteps until she leaves no trace. She hasn’t gotten far, yet. The guards catch her easily, and joke of her games with Hak.)
Once Yona is worn out, she makes her way to her section of rooms, and shuts the door. Done with people for the night, no one else allowed in.
It takes five days before she finds it.
A false section of flooring, difficult but not impossible to lift. A tunnel underneath, a secret passage to the mausoleum of King Hiryuu.
The cold stone against her back as she sits is comforting, despite knowing what lies within the tomb. Perhaps because of it, truly. The weight of the past is heavy here, but she is no stranger to it. The strings around her heart have led her here, after all.
“Hiryuu,” she says, voice soft and low, “I don’t know how long I can last in this palace. Our Zeno is waiting, I can’t leave him alone. Shin-Ah is still stuck in those lightless tunnels. Kija is so isolated. Jae-Ha… He would be alright,” she chuckles. “But I want to see him, too. Yoon will be so young, and yet still so brilliant. I want them at my side.”
There is no answer.
“My father won’t put pressure on the tribes to look after their citizens. If I got the iza seeds now, how many more could live? How many women will disappear from Awa in the next two years if I don’t act? How many people fall victim to the Nadai?”
There is no answer, but Yona feels a slight warmth in her chest as she plans.
“I cannot stay here. I need time to make plans, time to lay the foundations, but I cannot stay here long. I must look after our people, our dragons. I must figure out how to free the Dragon Gods from their grief, but I cannot do that sitting here playing dress-up.”
Yona stands and faces the tomb. Using the back of the brooch from Hak, she pierces the skin of her finger, and a drop of blood falls where the medallion must go.
It works.
The lid slides open, loud and yet she knows no sound will escape this room. It had only been a hunch, and yet she is glad of it.
She will not take the sword, not yet.
She will not tempt Zeno with its sight.
No, instead she looks at the corpse before her, and notices all the details she never got the chance to see.
Hiryuu was beautiful.
Hiryuu was beautiful, and he was draped in the finest robes. Layers upon layers, rings and bracelets and anklets and necklaces placed on him after he passed. She knows he did not die looking like this, with finery befitting a king at the grandest of celebrations.
It calls to her.
Every ounce of gold and silver, every yard of red silk, every ruby and obsidian gem, Yona can taste the magic contained in them.
(All of it is rightfully hers, and yet she knows better than to take it all.)
Yona reaches under the neckline until she feels the one that clicks in her mind most, and lifts it out from under the cloth hiding it from sight.
A long chain, with pearls dangling from it symmetrically. The center pendant is a bright red dragon scale. One Hiryuu never wore. He had his reasons.
Undoing the fastening, to drape it around her own neck, Yona has reasons of her own.
The scale rests against her skin, and for a second Yona swears it could simply meld itself to her, become her outer layer like the way the others have always been lined with scales. But no, she is no dragon warrior. Much as this belongs to her, as much as this is her own, she knows better than to think she is anything but human.
(Even with the impulses that have guided her here tonight, the knowledge she cannot know lighting the way.)
Yona takes one other object. A silver ring, with an obsidian stone inlaid in the center. It is shaped to have a dragon circling the stone, scales lined with rubies. Soaking in the presence of the corpse of a dragon king for so long, she knows it holds powers it didn’t at the start.
It slides onto her left middle finger perfectly.
All she needs to do to shut the tomb is tap the scale to the lid, and it floats and closes on its own.
It’s not until Yona is safely back in her room that she realizes she has no idea what these objects do.
No matter. It would feel wrong to part with them now.
“If I had the power to save that child…” Yona speaks, staring at her hands. Bloodless hands that held a dead body not too long ago. “If I had the power to loosen myself from those bandits… If I had the power to keep Shin-Ah from getting injured…”
She lowers her head to him. “Hak. Please.” Begging, begging him , as if that is all she can do. “I… Want strength. Teach me the sw–”
“Stop!” It’s out of his mouth before she finishes her words. He grabs her, straightening her back up. He can’t help it. “You are my master. A master should never lower their head for a servant.”
Hak cannot bear to see her lower her head, whether in shame or to plead.
“What… Should I do?” she asks, looking lost, though not nearly as lost as when they first fled.
“… You should order me. If you earnestly order me to do it… I can’t refuse it.” No matter what the order, he would follow his Princess’s demands. Even if it meant this.
He can see the resolve in her eyes as she takes a breath and nods. The fear and hopeless begging replaced by her determination as she meets his eyes. “Hak. Teach me the sword. That’s an order.”
Hak lowers himself to his knees, bowing his head. “As you command.”
The Princess’s word will forever be his unbreakable law. Even if it’s dangerous, even if it’s risky, he will be her tool to wield. After all, after what she saw…
Hak wakes up with the ghost of conflicting images behind his eyes. Princess Yona with a sword, beautiful and brave. Princess Yona despondent, hopeless after a betrayal.
As he blinks the sleep from his eyes, both fade.
He dresses quickly for the day, even as those eyes, piercing through him as she orders him to teach her, don’t quite disappear.
It’s similar to six days ago, when she awoke from a nightmare and he agreed to train her. Those same eyes, unavoidable, unable to be denied.
The day goes the same. He trains until it’s time for the Princess to wake, and then relieves the guard he left at her door. Escorts her to breakfast. Listens to the King’s teachings. Stands nearby as she reads, unwilling to leave her alone.
(Not after that dream, that flash of despondence it called to mind. Usually he trains during the day when she studies, but not today.)
(He needs to watch, to see her confidence.)
After they’ve practiced for a couple hours after lunch, he leaves her in Soo-Won’s care. He does have duties to attend to.
But Hak trains her again that evening, unable to stay away long. Watches as she sprints across the grounds to the trees. Grins as he follows her trail.
Except–
Near the gates, her footprints vanish. The disturbed branches had already been fading these past few days, and now she’s gone.
Oh, she’s getting good.
He gives a simple nod to the guards at the back gate as he walks through, no need for him to be incognito. There’s still no sign of her, but he has this sense, pulling at his chest, so he follows.
The woods are denser here than they are in the palace, and the sides of the mountain aren’t gentle (more gentle in the back than the front, but still rough with spots to slip and fall.)
Alarm starts to beat in his heart, for if she’s slipped, if she fell, she could be hurt, injured, and he doesn’t know where she is—
A bird falls from the sky and lands at his feet, arrow pierced clean through its chest.
Yona smiles and waves from her perch in a tree.
“Lost ya!”
“You’re getting better, Princess.”
She laughs, and he sees the exact moment she decides to jump down.
Luckily, the Thunder Beast is fast, and he’s there to catch her in his arms, lowering her to the ground gently.
“I hope I didn’t scare you too bad, Hak,” she says. “You started looking worried~ about me!”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You climbed a tree. It was going to take me a moment to figure out where you went. Besides, you gave yourself away.” He picks up the bird, and hands the arrow back to her. “When did you get the bow?”
“Took it from one of the guards!”
This girl. “You are giving it back.”
“Obviously, but I think they need a bit more training, if they failed to notice me taking it.” The Princess laughs, and hands the weapons over to him in exchange for carrying the bird. “Can’t be seen with those!”
“Come on, Princess, you’ve charmed just about every guard into letting you get away with having weapons in under a week. They wouldn’t care.”
“Ah,” she says, walking backwards through the gate, “but that’s not mine! Hey, Ji-Woo, Hak has your bow!”
He scowls, but even as the guard startles at her casual address and her words, Hak can’t help but feel proud of his (not his, not his, not his) Princess. “We’re going over observation tomorrow, Ji-Woo,” he says, handing the weapons back.
“Yes, sir!”
(It helps that Yona hands the boy the bird she shot with well-wishes, an extra boon for her unauthorized borrowing. It helps win people’s hearts when she asks about their family, their hobbies, what they’ve been doing. Feeding them, remembering their names. They aren’t faceless soldiers. Not to her.)
(This is who she is, and he can see it in her. The way everyone gravitates to her, charmed by her. By the way she cares.)
The Princess takes his hand, and he walks with her back toward the palace. “You did well, Princess.”
She smiles up at him (and he’ll ignore that blush). “Thank you, Hak. I have a good teacher.”
“You’re learning fast, too. That part is your work.” It’s like she’s been a fish out of water all these years, taught only to obsess over frivolous things, now diving into the deep end and taking to it like she was always meant to.
“But you can point out how I’m messing up branches and leaving a trail to track. You can show me how to wait for a guard to be busy and slip through. You show me how to find other paths. That’s not something just anyone can do. You have a skillset, and you know how to communicate it.”
Oh.
Oh, he can't deny that her words have a blush of his own rising to his face. “You pick up on it like a natural. I doubt I’d be so good otherwise.”
Yona laughs, and how could anyone ever keep her chained down? “You train recruits, Hak. You teach much worse than me. I’ve watched you and the soldiers do drills. I’ve sat on the sidelines for years. Some of those poor boys are hopeless until you and Joo-Doh get to them.”
Hak knows he’s caught her watching a few times, but he didn’t think it was that often. Maybe she’s had more experience sneaking than he’s been giving her credit for. “You’ve got more experience than half of them already, huh?”
“Well, when I want to see my pretty boys training, at some point I have to stop listening to my father when he says no.” Her hand slips from his as she skips a few steps forward and twirls, skirt and cloak fanning out around her. Flowing and free.
My pretty boys.
“Oh? Admiring others than Lord Soo-Won? Here I thought he had all your heart.” (It’s good, it’s good, he can keep the people closest to his heart close to his chest as well.)
That gets another laugh from her, softer now, and she bumps her shoulder into him, palm against his once more. “Even were he to hold my heart exclusively, that doesn’t mean there isn’t any other eye-candy about. And…” She pauses, she pauses. A far-away look in her eyes until she refocuses on the here and now. “I do love him, it’s true, but Hak… I don’t know where either of us would be without you.”
“I…” She’s so genuine, so sincere, so gentle with his heart where she used to shrug him off. “I mean, obviously, I’m going to be at your side. Yours and his.” Hak knows his place.
“Yes, you’re going to be with me… with us. I know this, but what role do you play in your mind? The loyal bodyguard? The General, tactician? A servant, a step below?” She sighs, they’re nearing her rooms, nearing where people might be. “You’ve picked a truly selfish princess to guard, Hak. I don’t know if I’m satisfied with settling for that.”
Hak can’t seem to get his mouth to work.
Or his brain, for that matter.
His heart feels like it’s questionable, too.
It takes until she’s opening her door for him to manage, simply saying, “You can’t mean…”
Princess Yona laughs, soft and sweet. She takes a step away from him, but faces him properly. “We don’t have to discuss this now, nor make decisions. Just… Keep it in your mind, okay?”
Another step, and she disappears behind a door shut once more.
He can still hear the blood in his ears, pounding at the ghost of her words.
It’s foolish. Ridiculous. She’s only 14.
(Those words will linger, wrapped around his heart, even if she doesn’t mean them.)
“Why, hello ,” King Il says, looking at him as he pushes open the door. There is no surprise in his eyes, only resignation. “So you’ve come, Soo-Won.”
Soo-Won knows, looking at him, that the King thinks he knows exactly why he is here. The rage in his blood at his father’s murder is quieter, now, than it had been so many years ago. But he has seen the country Kouka has become, the threats to their borders are only growing, and Soo-Won cannot leave a weak king in power.
He draws his sword. His uncle does nothing to stop him.
“Even if you kill me, you cannot become King Hiryuu.”
Ah, the blood in him; even the King cannot forget it, as if it is a boon to be blessed with and not the curse that took his mother’s life.
“Just try it. Then turn and look behind you. And there…”
Soo-Won drives his sword into the King’s chest, warm blood splattering across his face and robes.
“The true, red-haired king… Shall surely…”
Foolish though it is, he turns to look to where Il is pointing.
“Deliver your death.”
Yona stands in the doorway, witnessing her father’s murder at his hands.
Soo-Won stares at the ceiling of his guest room in the palace, unable to fall back asleep after such a nightmare.
Yona’s hair has always been red as the dawning sky, and he has thought it beautiful before, but paid no mind to the whispers of words about who she must be. There are plenty of whispers about her mother being unfaithful to King Il, but he has found no proof of that. Only a few ever draw any connection to the mythical figure of Hiryuu, most scoffing at the idea that a spoiled princess could share his hair.
There’s an image in his mind, now, of Yona with her hair burning red, flowing behind her. Fire on the wind, with a bow in her hand and an arrow pointed at his heart, tears bursting from her eyes.
It’s vivid, almost as vivid as the image of her standing in that doorway, one hand cupped over her mouth, begging, pleading with him. As if that would bring her father back. As if that wasn’t his blood on Soo-Won’s hands.
But that blood isn’t on his hands. Not yet.
Soo-Won rubs his eyes, shaking off these thoughts. It’s pointless to think about. Yona is in a different box.
(Except Yona is stepping into his other boxes, picking out the pieces he’s hidden away and bringing them to light.)
(He’ll keep her out of this.)
It’s six days into counseling her on politics, and Hak drops her off just after lunch so he can go fulfill his duties. He smiles at her as she enters the study they’ve commandeered for this.
(It’s in his wing of the palace. He has his own wing, just as she does. It isn’t used much.)
They’ve been going over history. She’s quick to pick up on recent history, the names of important families in all the tribes and nearby kingdoms, the relations and brewing tensions. Further back she knows less, though she only needs one look to understand the KaiKo treaty and all its rules.
(He doesn’t think even General Joo-Doh has it down quite so well).
It’s while they discuss the Fire Tribe’s land condition and how their military recruitment works that she stops and asks, “Soo-Won, what would you have done if I hadn’t demanded this?”
He looks at her from his spot behind the desk. She’s taken over an entire table for her books and papers in here, but now she’s facing him, all of them placed to the side. He sets down his own papers (movements within Kai, brought to him by Kye-Sook this morning before she had come, a good thing to read when she’s absorbed in her own research). “What do you mean?”
“The grain reports we get from the Fire Tribe are low,” she’s holding them, in fact, and he knows what they say. They are low. “And yet they recruit all abled men for the army. With the soil quality there it would take a lot of work, or a different crop, in order to have enough food for the people. I doubt those villages have much to trade with other tribes, and looking at everything, I doubt that General Kan Soo-Jin is the type to spare resources looking out for the people when he won’t even let his men visit their home.”
She’s right on all points.
And yet she got there without help. The grain reports being low isn’t necessarily a concern, but it is when no one is there to do the work to farm or craft. She looked up the quality of the soil. She knows Kan Soo-Jin wouldn’t spend the coin for traders to help aid the villages. All from the grain and military reports.
“You’re right, the region is very poor. I would think that establishing a new crop and allowing the men to work the fields would aid recovery, but the General would not do that.” It’s going to be a headache to solve, and possibly a battle.
“Which brings me to my question: What were you going to do if I hadn’t demanded this knowledge?” She sets her papers down, and crosses her arms.
“I’m still not sure I follow.” He means it. What is she asking of him? There’s no way she could know of his plans, and yet…
“Soo-Won, you have clearly intentionally learned the skills that a king would need. You do not currently aid my father with these skills, however, even though it is clear you are determined to fix these troubles we find ourselves in. The fact that you never decided to teach me paints an odd picture. I am to be queen, and yet you would let me sit there uneducated, trusting whoever I marry to rule. It would at least make sense if you planned to sit on that throne–”
His breath does not hitch as she says that, he keeps it calm and measured.
“–And yet, you have made no move to take the easiest path to that seat.”
She knows, she knows, she knows.
(She has no way of knowing, she cares for him, she has only seen his care, there should be no reason she could consider him capable of this.)
Selfishly he had hoped she wouldn’t be a casualty of this, that she could survive as he did what needed to be done, her and Hak. But if she even suspects, then there is no clean way to handle that, no—
—”Easiest path?”
What?
Of all reactions, she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Did you know, Hak became my bodyguard because Kan Tae-Jun was attempting to court me even after I repeatedly denied him? He’s not the only one, Soo-Won. Nobody believes I could rule alone, and whoever marries me will be king of Kouka.”
Kan Tae-Jun on the throne. It takes all his will to not react negatively. That fool would manage to create an even worse mess, Soo-Won would have to manage everything with Hak in the background to keep stability. He’d have to…
“I can see it in your face!” Yona laughs. “You’re plotting. Thinking of that outcome? Of how you’d fix it? Are you factoring me as queen into that, or the Yona before this week?”
“Ah, hahaha, I suppose you’ve caught me,” he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s still difficult to get used to this change, my apologies.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she says, “but I won’t force you. I don’t need to know your answer to that.”
Why not, he doesn’t ask. He should. He should ask, should figure out what she thinks of him, what she wants, what she—
“I just want to know, have you considered it? Or am I lacking in some way, to not be worth the throne?”
Is it a self-worth thing? She is still only 14, is that what all of this is about?
Soo-Won rubs at his temples, and ignores the way her eyes track the movement. “I suppose I’ve always thought of you as my little sister more than anything.”
He has long held that he will not have children. He will not inflict what took his mother from him on the next generation. It is easy to take everything related and put it in a box, and tuck it in the corner of his mind.
Too easy, perhaps.
Yona is a woman growing. Her hair is long, and she has traded elaborate styles for a simple ponytail. She has traded complex robes for something she can move around in. She has traded her naivete for determination.
“It’s funny that you’ve never considered it. When I was younger, I swore to Hak that I’d make you my king, and he’s never let me live that down.”
“... You what?”
(It’s still a distant dream.)
(Even setting his own anger aside, King Il cannot continue to carry that title. A title he will have until abdication or death, and Soo-Won knows that his uncle would not let him marry Yona. Soo-Won knows he could not force him to abdicate.)
(But Hak’s words, that future, that tantalizing impossibility. It rests again in his mind.)
(Put it away.)
“I’m not sure how I would describe my feelings for you anymore, but for a long time I harbored quite the crush. It’s more complicated now,” she sighs, standing and tidying up her papers. “I have to figure out who I am, and of course, it depends on you as well.”
“Give me some time?” he asks, because he needs time. Ever since she turned 14, Yona has been an overwhelming force, and he has not had a chance to breathe.
“Take the time you need,” she says with a smile, walking past him to put a few books back on their shelves.
Except once that’s done she stops by his side.
Yona leans down, and the sensation of her being taller than him as he sits is matched by the sensation of her lips ghosting against his cheek, her breath against his ear, as she whispers.
“Of course, if your interests lie with Hak instead of me, I can’t say I blame you. Hak holds my interests too.”
Yona is gone before he can respond, slipping out of the office and greeting Hak, dragging him away to play their so-called games.
The tales of the argument between King Il and Princess Yona are passed around. Only the two of them know how it really went.
That night, the night she turned fourteen, there is a knock on Il’s door, and he finds his daughter there. It is after the party, everything is winding down, but he would not turn down his daughter.
Except she enters the room with a brisk pace. Some unknown look in her eyes as she refuses to sit.
“What is it that brings you here, Yona? Wouldn’t you rather be asleep, after such a long day?” he asks.
“No, father,” she says, and her voice, her voice, it is stone. “I know you only want what is best for me, but I want your permission to do more, and your aid in learning more about our country’s state.”
He hadn’t missed the troubled look she wore earlier, but he’d known she’d bring it to him. She always has. He didn’t expect this. “You don’t need to worry about anything. What is it that’s made you stress like this?”
“I am the Princess of Kouka. It is my duty to worry about this. I wish to see our people, to look at the fields and the cities with my own two eyes. I want to hold a sword, a bow and arrow, I want to know how to fight. I want to know what problems we face.”
This…
(If he were a foolish man, Il would think that the person before him wasn’t his daughter at all).
This is not the Yona he knows.
“You’re young. You don’t need to fret about any of this, okay? You can have anything you wish inside the palace!”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Does that include weapons?”
And that— He still can’t. Not that. “No, I’ve told you before, I won’t permit you to wield weapons.”
“But you’ll teach me politics? You’ll let Hak and Soo-Won teach me as well? You will let me sit in on the sessions you hold with advisors? Will you allow me to leave this palace, if supervised?” She steps forward, closer to him as she speaks, and her eyes burn so bright that he almost forgets how much shorter she is.
“You will not be leaving the palace.” He needs to keep her safe - the idea of her dying like Kashi still haunts his nightmares (did his wife know, then? When she left Yona behind, that day?)
“Then let me do something, father! Do you think this is what I want, to be a helpless maiden sheltered from the world? Do you think that is the type of queen I wish to be? Teach me, or I will learn on my own.”
In that instant, the daughter he looks at seems a girl no longer, instead a woman grown. A flash of an image, of her holding a sword and commanding the troops, side by side with his nephew. A queen in her own right.
It’s silly, she is young, and he blinks the image from his eyes. (He knows it is not one he will ever live to see.)
“I will teach you, and you can attend meetings,” he cedes, and hopes it will be enough. He’ll pray to Hiryuu that it’s enough.
(His daughter stands before him, Hiryuu reborn, and he cannot let any harm befall her).
She smiles, and hugs him, and says, “Thank you, father! I’ll see you tomorrow, after breakfast!” and they say their goodnights.
And King Il knows, somewhere in his chest, that this will not be enough. But it is all he can do.
He has never been enough.