Chapter Text
The stable master wheezed out a curse, staggering back as the warhorse snorted, its eyes rolling white with exhaustion or defiance. Across the courtyard, the new king's banners hung limp in the stagnant air, their crimson dye still fresh enough to stain the hands of the squires wrestling them onto
poles.
Inside the great hall, the smell of burnt cedar mixed with iron and sweat. Prince Kim Dan knelt on the torn Kim banners, his wrists bound behind him with the same gold-threaded cord that once laced his ceremonial robes. Someone had broken his nose—the bridge sat crooked now, blood dripping steadily onto the floorboards between his spread knees. Above him, Warlord Joo's greaves creaked as he shifted his weight.
"You're smaller than I expected," Joo Jaekyung said. His gauntlet fingers caught Dan's chin, forcing his head up to reveal the prince's swollen eyes. The warlord's thumb pressed into the bruised hollow beneath Dan's left eye, testing the give of flesh. Dan didn't flinch—but his breath hitched in a way that made Joo's mouth twitch.
Outside, a squire dropped a pail with a clatter that echoed through the hall. Joo's generals stiffened, hands flying to sword hilts until the warlord barked a laugh. "Still jumpy," he said, never taking his eyes off Dan. "Tell me, little prince. Did your father weep when he signed you over? Or did he just lick the ink from his brush and call for dinner?"
Dan's tongue darted out to catch the blood at the corner of his mouth. His voice came out hoarse, but clear. "He used your seal wax to plug his ears." The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Somewhere in the rafters, a trapped sparrow battered its wings against the beams.
Joo's grip tightened briefly before his thumb moved to smear blood across Dan's cheekbone like war paint. The warlord exhaled through his nose—slow, deliberate—then let go to unbuckle his gauntlet. The leather straps made wet sounds where sweat had soaked them through. "You'll learn," he said, tossing the armored glove onto the nearest general's breastplate. "Before winter, you'll beg to lick *my* boots clean."
Across the hall, the Kim banners rustled as they were finally dragged out through the shattered doors. Dan's eyes tracked the movement, his shoulders tensing beneath the ruined silk of his undershirt. The torn fabric gaped at the collar, revealing the old scar where a physician's knife had once dug out an assassin's poison.
Joo followed his gaze and smiled. "Ah," he said, drawing a dagger from his belt. The blade caught the light as he turned it, deliberately slow, until the edge rested against Dan's exposed throat. "Don't worry, princeling. Your death won't be written on the floor with the rest of your family's shit." He leaned in, close enough for Dan to smell the wine on his breath. "I have *plans* for that pretty neck."