In no man’s land, surrounded by a sea of dead bodies on either side, both your men and the men of your enemy, you can clearly see the folly of endless warring. The smell of mud and blood clots the air, clinging to your nostrils.
Looking around, the horizon is empty, apart from the shapes of dead horses and dead riders. The stragglers of your army have retreated. The opposing side has done the same, returning to the safety of camp, where new strategies will be devised, new recruits will be deployed, and new morales will be invigorated for another grisly battle.
The idea itself made you nauseous.
Your body is exhausted, the magic drained from your veins after blasting spells at the opposite side, cruel sparks crackling from your fingers. When you started learning magic, you wanted to use it to heal and strengthen. Now you use it for the opposite, your inherent gift was weaponized for war.
As the youngest princess of the Black Dragons kingdom, you were never destined to lead the war but when the fraught peace with the Yellow Lions kingdom ended in a flurry of bloody border disputes, you had to step into the battleground.
You had been trained to fight from a young age, both with the sword and with your magic. The only power you were ever acknowledged.
The thought made you ill. You spit on the mud, where the trickles of water from the last rain shower run red. You knew that you should not be standing in no man’s land. Even with the battle over for now, if anyone from the Yellow Lions were to see you, all it would take is a well aimed crossbow bolt to the head and you’d be gone.
Let them, you thought. You don’t want to fight any more.
You walk through the mud, searching in the hopes that you’ll spot a survivor you can help back to camp. But the bodies before you are all corpses now.
Then, you spot a shape heaving before you. Someone managed to live after all. But this body is on the wrong side of no man’s land. A Yellow Lions’ survivor, dragging himself through the dirt. As he gets to shaking feet, you freeze.
His dark hair is buffeted off his face by a weak breeze, revealing his features, stained with dried blood, but still recognisable. Jung Hoseok, the Yellow Lion’s crown prince.
Standing before you is the heir of your enemy, weak and wounded. All it would take is you drawing your sword, and in one swift motion, you could end his life. With their prince defeated, the Yellow Lions would retreat, giving temporary peace.
But for how long? A few months? Then what?
Hoseok turns to you, and recognition flashes in his troubled eyes. Blood trickles down his face from a wide gash on his forehead.
“Well, princess” he says in a weak voice, raising his hands to you, “It would seem that the gods are on your side today. Here I am, weaponless before you. Kill me if you wish.”
You swallow, drawing your sword from its sheath. He sways in front of you as you walk towards him. You raise your blade. With one clean cut you could chop through his vital arteries, and watch the life drain from him.
- ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ -
Many years before the new war, the Yellow Lions had met at the Black Dragons’ palace for peace negotiations. The peace had not lasted long, but those fleeting years are your most fond childhood memories.
When the Yellow Lions had arrived at the palace, you remember spotting Hoseok for the first time. He had been hiding behind his father. He was only a young child at the time, around the same age as you. Being young and naive, you had not understood the conflict between your families.
All you saw was him, a new playmate. So you ran up to him, and stuck out your hand in greeting, before proceeding to ask him if he wanted to play hide and seek with you. He had been hesitant at first, but after his father gave him a nod, Hoseok had followed you, leaving the adults to negotiate over borders.
You had run through the palace, ducking in and out of the many rooms with Hoseok, giggling as you went. You were happy to have a new friend.
When your father had later corrected you, explaining that no heir of the Yellow Lions could be a friend of yours, you had worked yourself into a flurry of tears, hiding yourself in your room for days. You didn’t understand why the kind little boy couldn’t be your friend.
You dropped your sword to the ground in front of Hoseok. “I can’t do it,” you told him. His eyes search yours, confused.
“I can’t kill someone so defenseless,” you said, “It doesn’t feel right.”
Hoseok grimaces, “You Black Dragons, with your self-assured sense of honour...” A groan escapes his lips, as he grasps at his side. You see blood staining his fingers. “Even if you do not kill me now, I don’t believe I have much time left. If you go now, you’re simply leaving me to a worse fate.” At those words he sank down to the mud with a hiss of pain. Blood is seeping into his cloak, bubbling up from under his chain mail.
Without realising what you are doing, you instinctively kneel down next to him, lifting up his chain mail and his undershirt to expose a gaping wound on his stomach. You hold up your hands to his wound, and begin to murmur the words of a healing incantation.
“What are you doing?” Hoseok’s voice is steeped in confusion.
You ignore him, concentrating on the wound before you, as you knit shattered ribs, correct the flow of blood, and lace the skin together again. The incantation drained you of the last of your energy; the damage is almost too much for you to repair. You’re left gasping for air as you finish, leaving an ugly scar on Hoseok’s skin.
“Why?” his dark irises search your own.
“I...” You shake your head, unsure how to explain yourself, “I don't… want to fight any more… I know it’s naive to think in such a way, but I was reminiscing on when you and I were children, and we played hide and seek in the palace. I struggle to see the man that young boy grew into as an enemy… Even though I should.” A sudden sob shudders through you. “I’ve seen too many people die today. I can’t bear to see another.”
You closed your eyes, feeling tears stinging your eyelids. You should not be showing this side of yourself to Hoseok of all people. He could simply pick up the sword you dropped, and end you in an instant. Still you keep your eyes shut, lips trembling on unspoken words.
You feel a warmth on your hand, and pry your wet eyes open to see Hoseok’s hand on yours. You glance up to him, seeing a strange expression contorting his face. “I understand,” he murmurs. His thumb rubbed a soft circle on your palm.
You stare at him, and he stares back, as if surprised by his own actions.
“I wish we could stop the war,” you told him, “I know it's naive to hope for such things, but I cannot help this feeling.”
Hoseok nodded, “At least I know there’s hope for your nation once you ascend to the throne. The Black Dragons will have a kind and just ruler.”
“I know the same will be true of the Yellow Lions once you become king,” you reply softly.
Hoseok’s grip on your hand grew tighter. You get the sense that he wants to say more, but he kept his mouth shut. His eyes searched for yours, his cheeks flushed. You feel a seed of hope root itself inside you. Maybe someday there will be peace between your nations, heralded by a new generation of royals.
Despite knowing that you should quell such feelings, a shiver runs through you when Hoseok offers you a sad smile. You refuse to name the emotion, instead pulling Hoseok to his feet, standing firm in the empty space between enemy camps.
As you parted ways, you to the Black Dragons, and he to the Yellow Lions, the stubborn emotion persisted in your chest, heavy on your heart. You know it will only become more problematic over time. You try to ignore it, and leave it unnamed.
But it has a name. It’s name is love.
One day, the warring nations will declare peace once more.
On that day, Hoseok will get down on one knee, and ask the kind princess who healed him on the battlefield for her hand in marriage.
And one day, she will say yes.
