The tension in the King’s study was palpable—thick and stifling like a thundercloud moments before a storm. Scrolls and maps lay open on the table, candles flickered low, and the weight of the nation’s fate seemed to hang in the very air between the three of them.
“What do the Qing want, Father?” Crown Prince Yi Yung asked, voice firm, brows furrowed in suspicion. “Money? Slaves? Grain, perhaps?”
The King, seated heavily on his throne-like chair, shook his head with a weary sigh. “No, Crown Prince. It is not our gold they seek, nor our harvest.”
Yi Yung’s frown deepened. “Then what is it?”
Before the King could answer, Yewon—who had stood silently, hands clasped in front of her—spoke up, her tone calm but cautious. “Your Majesty… Emperor Taizu is a young ruler, barely older than the Crown Prince. He has yet to take a wife. Could it be… he is asking for Princess Eun Ji’s hand in marriage?”
At her words, Yi Yung’s eyes shot toward her sharply. The idea clearly unsettled him, though he said nothing. But the King, though slightly surprised, smiled faintly and shook his head again.
“You are indeed insightful, Crown Princess. You almost guessed correctly,” he said. “Yes, the Emperor is searching for an Empress. But he did not ask for Princess Eun Ji’s hand.” His eyes darkened. “He asked for yours.”
A silence fell over the room like a sudden eclipse.
Yewon’s jaw parted in disbelief, the breath stolen from her lungs. Her vision swam for a brief moment—but then, like a well-trained noblewoman, she quickly regained her composure, hiding the flicker of shock behind a graceful mask.
Yi Yung, on the other hand, could not contain his rage. His entire body stiffened. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, trembling with restrained fury. He did not look at Yewon, but his jaw tightened, and his eyes were stormy with possessive defiance.
“He’s been pursuing you ever since rumors of your beauty reached his court,” the King continued grimly. “But he was late. You had already been chosen as the Crown Princess. I rejected him then. A few months ago, he sent word again, this time asking Princess Eun Ji's hand in marriage.”
“But… the princess is not one to be caged,” he added, sighing deeply. “You both know the princess’ heart. Free-spirited, stubborn. When I told her of the proposal, she broke down in tears and begged me to refuse it. And she is my only daughter. If she refuses…”
“Then we risk war,” Yewon whispered, finishing the sentence for him.
The King nodded slowly. “Yes. And the Qing know we are weakened by internal unrest. This marriage proposal is not simply about alliance—it is a strategy. A political snare.”
“I will speak with Princess Eun Ji,” Yewon said firmly, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest. “Perhaps Her Highness will reconsider… for the sake of the kingdom.”
The King gave a grateful nod, but Yi Yung—still simmering—interjected before the topic could shift.
“As for the North,” he said, “I will handle it personally. Tomorrow, I’ll ride out with General Heo and General Han.”
“What?!” Yewon turned to him at once, her composure shattering. “No. Absolutely not, Crown Prince! You are the only heir to the throne. If something happens to you—if you’re ambushed or injured—it will be the downfall of this entire kingdom!”
He did not respond. He didn’t even look at her.
“Crown Prince,” she pleaded, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “Please don’t go.”
But her words fell on deaf ears. He kept his eyes on the King.
“I wish to speak with Father alone.”
Her heart sank.
“Court Lady Jang, escort the Crown Princess back to her chambers,” he said flatly.
Yewon bowed to the King with tearful restraint before turning away. Her back was straight, her chin lifted, but her steps were heavy with dread.
He’s truly going... to the North.
She knew the danger there. The rebellion was no longer a mere political threat—it had become a bloodbath. Villages razed. Soldiers slain. And yet… Yi Yung was marching into the jaws of death without even hearing her heart’s cry.
Meanwhile, in the King’s study, the atmosphere grew heavier.
The King studied his son, reading the silent rage behind his eyes. “What else are you not telling me?”
Yi Yung stepped forward and knelt, his voice low and grave. “I’ve known about the uprising in the North for two months now. I sent a spy ahead of General Han.”
The King’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to be sure before bringing it to you,” he said. “And now I am.”
He looked up slowly, locking eyes with his father.
“Father… the leader of the rebellion is not a stranger. It’s him. It’s older brother—Prince Hwan.”
The King paled.
“W-What… That’s impossible. He… he died. We buried his body—”
“We buried a body we believed was his,” Yi Yung said firmly. “But General Heo confirmed it last week. Prince Hwan is alive. And he believes you sent assassins to kill him five years ago… to secure my position as Crown Prince.”
The King collapsed back in his chair, stunned. “No… No, I never— He was my son. Why would I—?!”
“But he doesn’t know that,” Yi Yung said. “He thinks we tried to erase him. That’s why he’s amassing forces. To take back what he believes is rightfully his.”
Silence fell again.
The King buried his face in his hands. “Everything I did… I did to protect you both. I never meant for this.”
“I know,” Yi Yung said gently. “That’s why I must go. I need to meet him—face to face. He won’t trust anyone else. Let me speak to him. I’ll bring him home, or at the very least, I’ll find a way to end this without bloodshed.”
The King hesitated before nodding solemnly.
“Very well. But take at least two hundred of the Royal Guards. And speak to the Crown Princess before you leave. You owe her that much.”
Yi Yung bowed low. “Yes, Father.”
And without another word, he turned and left the room, his heart weighed down by a mission more personal than political.
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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚'𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗙𝗘 (CURRENTLY EDITING)
Historical Fiction𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑱𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝑬𝒓𝒂.
