Here goes... I hope it's not too confusing!

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The following morning…

“Your majesty! There is news from the Japanese!” A flustered royal advisor dashes into Yunho’s room at the break of dawn sounding like there is impending doom as he tries to catch his breath. Yunho, who have had a bad night before, is feeling worse now as the person in front of him holds a single piece of letter, palms sweating as he clutches onto the envelope tightly.

Shrugging unhappily, the king swore a little at the failed attempt to get his headgear to rest nicely atop his crown. Hurling the piece of gold casted band into the wall behind him, the king startled the advisor. Then, slouching lazily as he exhales once more, the king finally responded. “Read the letter to me.”

“Yes your majesty!!” Pulling out the paper desperately with quaking hands, the advisor started narrating the contents, written in ridiculously neat hangul syllabuses. “Dear Yunho dono.” “The preparations on my side are ready.” “I expect you to be looking forward to our future tie as much as I do.” “My brother is headed to your…” The advisor is unable to finish his speech, or rather, Yuchun’s speech, before he is interrupted.

“STOP!!!” “WHAT?!!” “LOOKING FORWARD?!” “WHO the HELL does he think he is?!!” At the verge of erupting, the king swiftly grabbed the letter and tore it up, throwing the ripped bits into the hungry flames, functioning as the torch. Then, stamping on the ashes, the maddened king slammed his fist against the table before finally calming down a little.

 Grabbing the back of his neck, Yunho waited for the awful feeling of too much blood rushing up into his brain to stop before turning to face the silent advisor. “Screw this. I’m not doing this.” The king hissed under his breath. “Send all the betrothal items back.” “I’m not doing this.”

“B-but your majesty… the shogun’s brother is headed here as we speak…” The advisor managed barely audibly, in a hushed whisper. “That’s what is written in the last part of the letter that I haven’t read to you, your highness.”

Cursing under his breath again, all Yunho could do was demand for the timid man’s exit as he undo the neat bun at the top of his head, pulling his fingers through his thick black locks as he buries his head into his arms, rested on the table.

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POV from Jaejoong

After that breakfast session, I stopped seeing him. Oniisama. He never came to ask about how I was doing either. We never even discussed this in details. Everything was all his decision, his idea, his wants, his duties… and all I have… is no choice.

I’m not complaining. I’m just lost. The end of the road is looking so dark that I can’t see a single glimmer of hope.

After two sleepless nights, I am here today… this very morning… being dolled up and preened like some sort of attraction for an upcoming freak show. The powder they are applying on my face is as thick as the Korean rice cake they forced me to eat last night and I can feel my pores screaming out for oxygen. The scent they allocated for me is so strong that I am already feeling nauseous. I feel sick. Plus the obi is too tight and the clothes are too stiff. Too revealing.

I should probably stop whining now. It’s useless to feel self-pity and display it when no one will ever pity you. Ever. Not even your own brother from the same blood line.

What I do have as well, physically, is a pile of books for revision, to brush up my knowledge on their culture. I speak and write hangul, but oniisama have orders for me to pretend that I don’t understand a word of it. He feels that if I remain silent, I will appear more docile… meek and obsequious.

You know how the women in our land would keep their lips sealed most of the time and look all amenable… like tamed animals? Oniisama wants me to behave like that. Be submissive. He says that I have to know what those Koreans are talking about… but I’m not supposed to react to anything they say. He didn’t even tell me this in person though… like he is afraid to see me, always passing me messages through a middle man.

And of course, I am given a dagger from his collection. To be kept with me till I get a chance to complete my mission. This is the part I am dreading the most. I have never committed murder before. How am I supposed to do that?! Is the heart really on the left… like otosama said before? How deep do I plunge this damn thing in? What if I don’t go deep enough? He should’ve given me books on anatomy instead of culture and language… It’s my sole mission after all isn’t it?

I am just being twirled around in circles, being told what to do. I have no idea what to expect… how I will be in a short day’s time… and what will happen during the course of this mission. I’m scared.

What type of a person is that Yunho anyway? Who cares! He will be dead before the end of this season. He has to be. I have to make sure of it…

The one burning question I have now is how much tolerance oniisama will have for my failure. I intend to fail… but he did say before that he will not accept it. He says that I might have to give up some things to succeed… but I definitely can’t make any blunders. What did he mean by that? I am not too sure.

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“Your highness.” “Your highness!” A voice, gradually increasing in volume pulled Jejung back from his daydream as he stares into the space before him. Gasping at the sight that met him, which is his reflection in the metal mirror, the young prince could not suppress the urge to reach up and rub some of the thick pearl powder off his ghostly white face. By white, Jejung meant scarily white. The kind of colour you get when referring to a geisha’s face.

The amount of jewellery and excess accessories lined up along his body from neck up is astounding and Jejung can already feel the weight pressing down on his spinal cord, if that is even possible with the cervical bones.

A hand brusquely grabbed his as he almost reaches his face. “Don’t do that! You will ruin the make-up.” The same voice that addressed him earlier had spoken to him again, from right behind his head.

“Now… your oniisama wants you in the main hall… for a rehearsal-performance.” The old lady spoke quietly, hands never leaving Jejung as she supports him up, holding onto his waist firmly. Assisting the young man, who now looks like an enchanting and delicate maiden, slip on his tall clog-like sandals, the older lady even gathered his alarmingly long sleeves of his Kimono to prevent him from tripping.

“I can’t! Obachan! These shoes are too tall!!” Jejung can barely balance on the pair of wooden platforms, wobbling out of the room as the older woman eggs him on unwillingly. His nanny had watched him grow up and the elder isn’t the most agreeable with Yuchun’s notion. She does not have the ability to stop the marriage. Forced to dress up the one person she had doted on most of her life, she can sense whatever fear and apprehension Jejung is experiencing.

“Your highness, you just need a little getting used to.” “Try to look straight.” The woman prompted Jejung again and the beautiful person found himself paraded through the two neat rows of Japanese man, whom are his brother’s court members, tottering awkwardly. This will not be the end of the humiliation in which he serves as an exhibit.

With almost all eyes fixated on him, looking at him like how Jejung would consider somewhat lecherously, the poor jittery young human failed at his attempt to reach down his back and pull up the considerably low collar barely covering his powdered scapula as it slides down the side of his shoulder joints. Squirming inelegantly, the young man gasped and straightened up at the cue of his older brother, which is but an icy glare.

Stumbling on a little with the load of his heavy sleeves, without the help of his caring assistant, Jejung fought hard with sudden memory loss to remember all the steps to the dance as he twists his arms gracefully to swing the paper fans, which he grasps so tightly in both palms that they are near cracking.

Following the rhythm closely as the music starts to hasten without warning, Jejung ended up throwing himself left and right, trying desperately to keep up yet make his motions look effortless at the same time. He is remarkably talented at performing considering the fact that he had no prior practice before this. He had only listened to the music once and had to picture the moves in his mind as the musician plays.

Yuchun isn’t the least bit bothered about how he was coping. Or at least that was the feeling he gave Jejung. The truth is that Yuchun is as reluctant as he is, avoiding contact as and when possible. He did not expect Jejung to turn up dancing across the hall so perfectly in synch with the music and looking so damn captivating.

Loud clapping from the floor indicated that the dance is over and Yuchun could not but clap along as well, gingerly. Jejung is watching him with such an unexplainable expression that he could hardly not blame himself. The look isn’t one that is accusing or anything, in fact, it reflected such obvious funk and despair and Yuchun can almost feel that negativity himself.

“Must succeed.” Yuchun mouthed the words to Jejung before turning away to join the rest of the court attendees. Everyone present is smiling so happily, cheering as they drank, oblivious to the pain the pair of brothers is going through. Yuchun can see Jejung’s eyes water as he tries not to pay attention to the latter, choosing instead to appear distracted.

Fist clenched tightly, the shogun even smiled radiantly at the congratulatory words coming from the group. “Our shogun’s intelligence will save us all a year of disaster and war, LONG LIVE THE SHOGUN!! BANZAI!!!” The words made Yuchun’s heart ache but he kept a straight face nonetheless.

The Japanese truly believed that they are saved because of Yuchun’s wise decision for a ‘wedding exchange’. They believed that once the Korean prince is part of their family, they will have access to resources. They also believed that once Jejung is part of Korea’s royal family, the countries will not need to engage in anymore war. What they don’t know is the conspiracy Yuchun is planning in secret, not anticipating the usually soft and withdrawn Jejung to do the unexpected.

Yuchun is not one to share. He has no intention to make peace with Yunho, especially not being the kind of person he is brought up to become. A territorial person, much like a territorial beast, Yuchun is always ready to fight it out to claim what he wants.

Besides, sharing, with the bad blood between them, there is no guaranteed peace or safety for the pawns either ways. Yuchun believes that Yunho is just doing the exchange to humour him and he is not going to pretend that he is satiated. Not for long that is.

After all, Yunho himself had been silly enough to give him an opening. If there is no exchange then Yunho would not be exposed to the risk of an assassination, but if Yunho does not ask for a surety, Junsu will surely be in trouble. Yuchun had placed Yunho in a very disadvantageous position and it is perfectly understandable if the Korean emperor would be hostile and even assault Jejung. Yuchun is aware that Jejung will not be welcomed with open arms, yet he has no idea how to tell Jejung that. He can only hope that the young man can handle himself.

The younger one on the other hand, is not fully aware of the situation, and he has no idea that Yuchun is going to be getting a wife soon either. As much as he did like to be briefed on what to say and do, the young man is kept in the dark, forced into a corner and abandoned.

With the compacted make-up concealing the puffy eyes he had gotten after a whole night of crying previously, Jejung is subsequently shuffled out of the hall, into the awaiting carriage where he is carefully arranged to rest in. A comfortable journey is the last thing Yuchun can offer him for comfort.

Whimpering pitifully as he watches his nanny cry silently, Jejung felt even more disheartened and deserted, especially without the motherly figure he had grown to love, being around him all the time. “Your highness, remember to stay strong” was all she could say. Jejung responded with a weak nod and heart wrenching squeak.

The old lady had to look away the minute the door to the carriage is shut, rushing back into the servant quarters to cry her heart out. Picture a woman parting with her daughter indefinitely. She was that grief stricken.

Huddling up within the darkness of the horse carriage, the poor young man had to force himself to picture the upcoming events for the very next day, which will only be half a day and a long night away. Trying to seek comfort in the fact that he will get to use the small cyanide capsules in the pouch hanging at his side, Jejung rolled the tiny wrapped up bamboo container between his fingers, wondering if the contents will taste bitter when he bites and breaks the hard covering.

Then he thought about how he would have to live, pretending not to see, to hear, to speak or to understand and he can feel his blood run cold. Loneliness. The thing that plagued him for most of his life is only going to become more apparent with him being sent there to live at the mercy of the one person who will control his fate from now on, Yunho.

TBC

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