Chapter Text
“My brother is a fool.”
Min U-won’s brush hesitated only slightly before he proceeded to write down the King’s statement. Or rather, paraphrase it. Never mind that he wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment precisely as stated. His personal opinions had no bearing on the historical record. Come to think of it, he wasn’t altogether certain what this particular statement might have on the historical record. But that was not for him to decide. Hence, he merely inscribed it in the sachaek and waited for further statements of note.
If His Highness noticed his hesitation, he gave no indication, merely nocking another arrow to his bow and drawing back the string. As he let the arrow fly, he casually added, “And if you’re not careful, I may be compelled to deem you one as well.”
The solid thunk of the arrow hitting its target mercifully masked the sound of U-won’s brush dropping to the polished wood floor of the pavilion.
He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to wondering why he—or any historian for that matter—had been summoned to the King’s private archery pavilion. It was common knowledge throughout the palace that this place was his refuge—an oasis of privacy and solitude where he took no visitors and allowed the eunuchs and caretakers in only after he was done.
U-won suspected that as much as Yi Jin relished the challenges of being the King, there were moments he needed absolute solitude for gathering—or quieting—his thoughts. And a physical outlet in which to immerse his body in order to allow his mind free rein.
A practice with which he himself had become intimately familiar over the past three years. The task of caring for Min Ik-pyeong’s—for he had long since ceased thinking of him as Father—grave and over time, for the gardens in which he and U-hui had grown a fair amount of what sustained them, had provided the same balm to mind and soul. Even now, a month past the end of the formal mourning period, he found himself in his rare free moments gravitating toward working in the small garden U-hui had cultivated in the new home they now shared.
With a sigh, he retrieved his brush and resumed his attentive position, brush poised over the page, even though he knew it for a futile gesture. Yi Jin watched him, that familiar, gently mocking glint in his eyes.
“You understand that here—“ he gestured with the point of his bow to the otherwise empty pavilion, “no conversations of note take place—no diplomatic transactions or meetings—therefore nothing you need to inscribe as historical record, yes?”
U-won inclined his head. “Then there is no reason for a historian to be present, jeonha.”
“Perhaps not. But what if there is a reason for my friend to be present?” Yi Jin placed his bow on a table and dropped down to sit beside him. Resigned, U-won closed the sachaek and placed his brush across the cover with the same care with which he did all tasks.
They sat quietly for a few moments, only the conversation of the birds and the breeze rustling through the leaves overhead interrupting the silence. In those suspended, liquid moments, U-won understood even more fully why Yi Jin chose to retreat to this space. Despite its designation as a venue for the practice of an inherently violent art, there was nevertheless an inescapable peace here. This was a place in which Yi Jin could simply be.
“How is U-hui?”
Not what he’d expected to hear—still, U-won had wondered if he would ask.
“She is well. She takes great joy in the gardens of our new home.” He paused, then added, “Thank you, by the way.”
“For—?”
“Your assistance in divesting us of our father’s former estate and using the funds to procure our new lodgings while we were in mourning.”
More modest than what they’d once called home—certainly far less luxurious than the environs of the Inner Palace that had once been his sister’s in her role as Crown Princess—but more than spacious and well-appointed enough for the two of them to begin their lives anew.
“Oh. That. Well…”
Not much had ever discomfited the King—not even when they were younger—which was perhaps why U-won took a bit more pleasure in the flush staining his friend’s cheeks than he might have otherwise.
“It was a generous gesture under the circumstances.”
Yi Jin met his gaze. “You are my friend,” he said simply. “As was U-hui. Once.” His mouth compressed into a thin line. “While I will never forgive either of our fathers for how they manipulated us, my behavior toward her rests completely on my shoulders. She asked for none of this.”
“She did not,” U-won agreed easily. “And it was not an easy path for her. But now…” He lifted his gaze to the trees. “She is happy,” he said softly.
“Good.”
U-won sensed rather than heard the release of a breath he was certain Yi Jin had been utterly unaware of holding.
“Good,” he repeated more softly.
A few more moments of silence passed before the King spoke again, his voice returned to its normal decisiveness. “Now about you.”
His brows knit together as he scanned the King’s expression, once more schooled into lines of inscrutability.
“Me?”
Yi Jin nodded.
U-won hesitated for a moment. “I, too, am happy.”
And he was. He was, he told himself. He was done with mourning. Nothing more of filial responsibility hanging about his neck other than the obligatory yearly visit to Min Ik-pyeong’ s memorial.
He was back to work as a historian, a gift which he’d never expected.
He had a home of his own and gardens and the freedom to wake each morning knowing that whatever political machinations were afoot—and there always were, even if they no longer originated from the King himself—they had nothing to do with him or his family. Even if the span of his lifetime proved wholly inadequate with which to repay the sins of his father’s past, never again would his family name be shamed in such a manner. He would make certain of that.
The King’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I have never known you to be a liar, U-won.”
Though the accusation was startling, familiarity coupled with years of discipline allowed him to remain silent, knowing Yi Jin’s statement to be but a precursor.
“Are you truly happy?”
More confident now, he nodded. “I am…content, jeonha.”
“Is content the same as happy?”
Too late, U-won realized he’d walked straight into Yi Jin’s trap. Still, he attempted to counter. “It can be.”
Once more, the King’s voice softened. “But it’s not, is it?”
This time, it was Yi Jin who allowed the silence to envelop them, clearly willing to wait U-won out.
U-won, trying to make heads or tails of whatever point the King was trying to make finally circled back around to his opening salvo, finally recognizing it for the direct correlation it was, even if he didn’t understand why.
“Why is your brother a fool?”
The corners of Yi Jin’s mouth twitched. So he had guessed correctly then.
“It’s not so much that he’s a fool, but more that he’s naïve. And young. So very young.”
For all his discipline, U-won barely managed to restrain a snort at the King’s words. Dowon was now twenty-three. At twenty-three, Yi Jin had already been married and anointed the Crown Prince. He, himself had already been married, widowed, and climbing the ranks of the historians. But as ever, the fairness that was as integral a part of his makeup as his discipline recognized that his life—even Yi Jin’s life—had been far more rooted in life’s harsh realities than Dowon’s. At twenty, all Dowon had known of life beyond the sheltered walls of Nokseodang was that the man he believed to be his father hated him and having no idea why, and the fantasies he fabricated as Maehwa.
Admittedly, the boy had acquitted himself quite bravely and honorably that last day, he recalled, claiming his place as Yi Rim, rightful heir to the throne. And it had taken a considerable amount of fortitude to step away from that birthright, knowing it not to be the right path for him. Even with those strides toward manhood, however, there had nevertheless remained something of a lost child about him.
Returning his gaze to the leaves overhead, U-won chose his words carefully. “I would imagine all the travel he has enjoyed over the past years might wear away a fair amount of naïveté.”
“It’s true he’s far more worldly than the boy he once was. Far more aware of the world around him. It does not, however, absolve him of the sin of foolishness.”
It was rare that this happened—in fact, he could only think of two other instances in his life that it had happened—but U-won was well and truly befuddled. Which led to an unsettling feeling of frustration. Especially knowing that Yi Jin had also equated him with possibly being the same sort of fool as his brother. Which led him to uncharacteristically snap, “What is it you are trying to say, jeonha?”
His tone of voice alone would be cause for a beheading, were Yi Jin any other manner of King. Instead, all it earned was a hearty chuckle. U-won lowered his gaze from the trees to find Yi Jin nodding approvingly.
“There’s the U-won I recall from our boyhood. For all your facility with the subtleties of court intrigue, you still have little patience for allusions and vagueness.”
A smile tugged at the corners of U-won’s mouth as he shook his head. Ever had it been like this—he trying to maintain his composure and Yi Jin finding ways to poke holes in it. One would think he would have learned by now.
“What are you trying to say?” he repeated, more genially this time. “Why is Dowon a fool? And why might I be?”
The smile faded from Yi Jin’s face. Very softly he said, “He believes she will wait forever. That’s why he’s a fool.”
There was no question as to who “she” referred to. The only question was why Yi Jin assumed him to be a fool of the same measure.
“Which begs the question, my friend—are you, in turn, going to wait forever?”
A slight amendment, U-won thought. Not why Yi Jin assumed him to be a fool, but rather, how had he known?
He could try to bluff his way out of this increasingly uncomfortable situation but in the same instant the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. Any attempts to bluff an answer or dismiss the King’s question would merely be adding fuel to the fire.
“I was unaware I had a choice in the matter, jeonha.”
There. The closest he’d ever come to admitting the secret he’d kept closest to his heart for years, nestled alongside the cherished memories of Dan-yeong.
Yi Jin tsk’d dismissively. “And this is why you’re a fool.”
U-won’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“For a First Historian, practiced as reading between the lines as you are, you can be remarkably obtuse when it comes to the matters of your own heart.” Yi Jin crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head as one might shake their head at a particularly slow child.
“You work too closely with Officer Yang to not be abreast of all the gossip, despite your utter disinterest in such matters. So I know you must be aware of the increasing lengths of Dowon’s travels—at the decreasing amounts of time he remains in Hanyang between his journeys.”
He swallowed back the unfamiliar wave of anger similar to the one that had assailed him the first time Officer Yang had shared this information with him over drinks at a bar his first night back. She’d been there at the evening’s outset, but had left early, much to U-won’s disappointment—presumably because Dowon had returned from a journey that same evening, as Yang had confided with a frown of mild disapproval.
She had paused by his seat before taking her leave, resting her hand on his shoulder with an apology for not being able to stay longer and once again expressing her happiness at his return. He imagined he’d seen a shadow of regret in her steady gaze, but had immediately chastised himself for seeing things only he wished to see.
She had, after all, still left.
And he’d been left nursing unaccustomed feelings of disappointment. And further down, in that place he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge, a stinging hurt.
After all, he’d only just returned as well.
“I…assumed it was an arrangement that suited them both.”
“Perhaps at the outset.”
To his surprise, U-won felt himself bristling. “She never wanted to get married.”
Yi Jin’s eyebrows rose, prompting U-won to take a deep breath. He nodded, indicating the King should continue.
“It is my understanding she still does not—however that does not mean she wishes to spend her life alone. As independent as she is, she is nevertheless someone who thrives within a partnership. A true and equal meeting of hearts and minds and souls.”
A shadow passed across Yi Jin’s face. Because of lost opportunities with U-hui? U-won thought not. Regardless of their earlier friendship, their respective roles would have precluded theirs ever being an equal partnership. Not under the circumstances by which they’d been thrown together. No…again, based on additional unwanted gossip passed along by Officer Yang, that shadow likely had more to do with a former apprentice historian-turned-schoolteacher.
“Dowon is incapable of offering her such a relationship. He has much he still wants to see and explore—much he wants and needs to learn.”
Based on all he’d heard, both from Officer Yang and Yi Jin, on that point, U-won was in full agreement.
“While Dowon accepts that for her, her career as a historian is paramount, I feel he still harbors a belief that she will one day wish to join him. He refuses to accept, at least on the surface, that she will not. Hence, his journeys grow longer and longer, perhaps in the hopes that in pining for him, she will eventually capitulate.”
Once again, U-won fought a surge of anger, this time on her behalf. “He does not know her very well if he truly believes that.”
“No, he does not,” Yi Jin agreed. “But that is for Dowon to discover in his own time. Or not. Which brings me to you.”
U-won inclined his head, waiting.
“Dowon leaves again tomorrow. He plans to travel west—perhaps as far as France. He wishes to learn more of the teachings that influenced Seoraewon. A…pilgrimage of sorts. To learn more of his father.”
U-won allowed the words to crash over him, as a wave rushing toward the shore. As the roaring in his ears receded, he slowly lifted his head.
“That…is a long journey.”
Yi Jin nodded. “A year. Perhaps more.”
“A year,” he murmured. A lifetime. And a blink of an eye.
Suddenly restless, he slid from his perch on the pavilion, protocols be damned. He slowly paced the distance between the mark and the target, idly studying the spot where the King’s arrow pierced the center of the red bullseye with beautiful precision. A perfect, decisive shot that almost appeared to be mocking him. With a deep breath, he turned and made his way to the large sour plum tree spreading its branches across the far corner of the courtyard. Soon, its leaves would begin to turn and the world would begin to slow as the cold approached and the days grew shorter. A time of quiet in preparation for the earth’s inevitable renewal.
But that renewal was never precisely the same each time, was it? Such was the nature of life. The earth herself grew and changed with each year. And dedication to sowing and tending and nurturing new seeds could also potentially alter the path of that renewal.
There was a not-so-subtle message there, he thought with a rueful laugh.
“You were once willing to sacrifice yourself on her behalf.” Yi Jin’s voice was wistful, as if understanding it as a gesture—even with all his power as the King—of which he was incapable.
“It wasn’t just for her,” he felt compelled to retort, still fighting the inevitable although he could not have said why.
Yi Jin’s eyebrows rose once more, nearly disappearing beneath his headband.
“It wasn’t.”
“Fine.” Yi Jin waved off his protest. “It wasn’t.”
Any relief U-won might have felt was fleeting as Yi Jin added, “But if it was, would you still do it?”
Yes.
The answer popped into his head with such certainty—such absolute clarity—he had no choice but to accept it as truth. But he would keep that to himself, insomuch as he was able, choosing instead, to ask, “How do you know so much, jeonha?”
Acknowledging it for the admission it was.
At that, Yi Jin threw his head back and laughed, so long and so hard, U-won grew by turns confused, then uncomfortable, and finally, angry. If the man wasn’t the King…
Yi Jin straightened, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes. “Oh, my old friend—understand that it was not at all necessary, but who exactly do you think petitioned so passionately on your behalf these past three years? For that matter, who do you think found the house in which you now live? Who helped prepare it for your return?”
Shock flooded U-won straight from the top of his head down to his gut, suffusing him with an intense, searing heat. Once more unable to stay still, he pushed away from the tree, his rapid strides taking him back to the pavilion where he collected sachaek and brush, if only to have something with which to occupy his hands.
He’d been pleasantly surprised, when crossing the threshold to his new quarters, to find it outfitted precisely to his tastes, even down to the books on the shelves and the calm blues and creams of the silk cushions and bed linens. Even the manner in which his brushes were arranged on the smooth polished surface of the rosewood desk, alongside a stack of pristine journals had been exactly as he would have done.
He’d not given it much thought—at least not consciously. But who else could it have possibly been? Who else would have had such quiet, precise insight into who he was?
He hadn’t wanted to give it much thought because he hadn’t wanted to believe it to be more than it was—the gesture of a friend. That was what he would have told himself, had he chosen to probe beneath the surface.
“If it makes you feel any better, U-won, I suspect she is as unaware of how she feels as you are unwilling to admit it. Which means, however, that whatever is to happen next lies entirely with you. So—“ The King’s voice was very soft, yet as close behind him as he was, resonated with the power of a shout. “Are you a fool?”
Newly troubled, he turned and met his friend’s gaze with his own. “I am afraid I already have been.”
Yi Jin’s smile was the one of their boyhood, wide and delighted. “Luckily for you, it is a affliction time can cure.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and confidently strode toward the pavilion’s entrance, with each step resuming the mantle of the King. Taking his cue, U-won assumed his place as Historian, falling into step behind His Highness.
At the gate, the King paused and looked over his shoulder, lifting a regal eyebrow.
“Time is something you now have, old friend. Be sure to use it wisely.” Unbelievably, he winked. “Or I will believe you for a fool.”