THE SWORD'S DANCE | HYUNBIN

❀dirtied daisies❀

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ DUST SWIRLS IN THE AIR when Hyunjin falls to one knee. Mud and grass stains dirty the frayed hems of his white tunic, but he could care less. "Again," he orders, rising from the ground and brushing off his knees.

The instructor eyes him down. "Your majesty, it's been three hours. You should rest, the queen wants you for dinner this evening—"

"I said again," he doesn't care that he's being a royal pain, not right now. What matters is that he was brutally embarrassed earlier, and he's going to have none of it. If training for hours means that he won't have to trudge back to his chambers with his parent's disapproving gazes burning into his back, so be it.

"Your majesty—" the instructor, a man in his late thirties, tries again.

Hyunjin brandishes the wooden sword out. It collides with the equally blunt tip of the instructor's.

He's on his feet, quick and nimble, dodging the strokes made to bring him back down to the mud. He won't concede. Fueled by a loss of dignity, Hyunjin fights twice as hard this time. His breath huffs out a frantic rhythm and burns in his throat, but he persists.

He imagines that the instructor across from him looks different. Shorter, broader, youthful features. A permanent smirk tilting his plump lips upwards. It gives him the strength he needs, the anger, to rush across the grassy field and thrust his sword with new vigor.

The instructor collapses under him, back hitting the daisies scattered like white stars in a darkened sky of green. Hyunjin thrones on top of him, knees bracketing his ribs. But when he stares down at the instructor, sword to the tip of his squared jaw, he doesn't see the familiar lined face. A smirk stares up at him.

He blinks and it's gone, just a smile stretching across the instructor's features. "Good job, your majesty. If you can do that during the next competition, you're sure to claim the trophy."

He clambers off of the instructor, "The trophy is already mine." He lifts his head, looking towards the sky. "It's been mine."

Wisely, the instructor doesn't question more. He collects the swords and clambers off, heavy footfalls denting the field.

Hyunjin watches him leave, watches the flowers get crushed under his footfalls. Daisies. White ones, to be exact, who spread their cheer with tiny blossoms and wispy dandelions that children grasp in eager hands. A boring, basic flower.

🪷

"So, Hyunjin," his mother leans over, perfectly painted pink lips turning up into a smile that looks strangely venomous. "What are your plans for the upcoming tournament.?"

He stifles a sigh. "I'm going to try my absolute hardest, mother."

"And will you come home with the trophy?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good," she leans back against the red velvet of her chair. The gilded throne next to her is empty again. "I don't want another disappointment like last time."

Hyunjin swallows down a piece of roast chicken, the tender meat feeling like a stone in his throat. "Of course, mother. I will win."

She isn't done yet, "If you let that peasant brat ruin your reputation again, the consequences won't be good. What will the other kingdoms think if our prince is weak enough to be beaten by a carrot farmer?"

He's silent. She appraises him with her judgmental stare.

"May I be excused, mother?"