Set in the early Goguryeo (AD30-35) during the era of the Three Kingdoms in Korea, this BinJin Sageuk tells the tale of love, trust and betrayal between a Goguryeo Crown Prince and a Nakrang Princess.
It is loosely based off the tragic Korean folkta...
For a long moment, the princess of Nakrang knelt on the straw bed, quietly taking in her surroundings.
It was almost unbelievable how everything had changed overnight; what would have been a diplomatic mission took a turn for the unimaginable with an assassination attempt.
They had literally lingered at the gates of hell, before a second twist of fate pushed them away from what would have been certain death.
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Blanketed in darkness, save for the minimal illumination from two oil lamps, the tiny wooden hut reeked of burning whale fat, mildew and brine, with the occasional isopod crawling across the sandy, gritty floorboards.
Their bed was nothing like Yejin had ever known; it would be more apt to describe it as smoothed wooden boards with coarse hemp fabric thrown over it.
The spring night was quiet, except for the hypnotic murmuring of the sea as it slowly doused the beach, kindling its own symphony.
Darkness reigned, leaving more to imagination than to sight.
She would normally have been scared and even disgusted, at feeling the miasma of stale air and despair over her current location.
But to the Princess, everything around her now stood as stark reminders of how they were both very, very much alive.
Even the lingering soreness in her overworked muscles served as a welcomed reminder.
They were alive, and together.
Just meters away from her was Hyun Bin, who was laying his swords and accessories down on the rickety bamboo table in the middle of the hut.
In the shadows cast by night and flames, the prince looked almost enigmatic.
To be very honest, Yejin didn't even know where to start collecting her thoughts from.
Vivid scenes were swirling like a whirlpool in her mind.
The princess was certain she was on land, with her feet plastered firmly to ground. Yet in her head, she was still drowning.
The low rumble of wooden wheels over gravel and dirt...
Witnessing oppression, poverty and disgruntlement.
Ominous flashes of silver, morbid splatters of fresh crimson, sickening crack of bone and the lacerating of living flesh.
Flames licking at dead bodies.
Feet flying over stones and leaves, calves burning, gut wrenching.
There was the constant fear of her body surrendering to exhaustion.
She was fighting...fighting to draw gulps of cool air into her stinging lungs.
Footsteps came to an abrupt halt when the assailants came in the opposite direction.
