🌻 Of Crowns and Daggers
They carried Tian Ke into a tent without delay. The physician knelt beside him and placed two fingers on his wrist, remaining still as he measured the pulse. The silence was heavy with tension. A eunuch rushed into the main hall and bent close to whisper in the Ming Emperor's ear. The Emperor's face turned cold. His gaze cut sharply toward the Third Prince, filled with contempt.
"You will answer for this. I shall deal with you later," he said icily, then turned and swept out of the hall without waiting for a reply. He made straight for the tent. Inside, Ji-nara sat by Tian Ke's side, quietly sobbing. Yun Yuhua and Qian'ai stood nearby, pacing, unable to calm their hearts. When the Emperor entered, all present immediately dropped to their knees.
"Long live Your Majesty," they said in unison. The Emperor's gaze rested on Tian Ke, then shifted to the physician.
"How is he?"
The physician bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, his pulse is unstable—at times faint, then suddenly strong. This indicates severe internal disruption. The young man has overexerted himself. His qi is nearly spent, his blood dangerously weak. He continues only by the strength of his will. Had he pushed himself any further, he might never have awoken."
He lowered his voice.
"He must rest. He will require warm food and potent medicine. Any further exertion may endanger his life," the physician said solemnly.
"How long before he regains consciousness?" the Emperor asked, his voice grave. The physician lowered his head.
"If Heaven allows, within a day or two. But he will be greatly weakened. He will need constant care for at least a fortnight."
The Emperor looked at Tian Ke, then at Ji-nara—still weeping, her shoulders trembling as she blamed herself under her breath. Yun Yuhua and Qian'ai sighed in relief to know their brother would live, yet their hearts remained heavy knowing he would be bedridden. Tian Ke lay still—eyes closed, breath barely stirring.
"You should rest," Yun Yuhua whispered beside him. The Emperor turned to her. A faint, pained smile flickered across his face.
"Yes… all of you must rest as well. Do not follow his path of sacrifice."
Yun Yuhua nodded, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. The Emperor looked one last time at Tian Ke, then departed the tent in silence. Yun Yuhua and Qian'ai stayed behind, unwilling to leave in case he awoke. Ji-nara, despite her mother's pleas, remained seated by Tian Ke's side, refusing to move.
As hours passed, her resolve never wavered.
Later, Yun Yuhua returned and sat beside her. She gently reached out and took Ji-nara's hands. Ji-nara lifted her tear-streaked face, her voice breaking.
"What if he never wakes up?"
Yun Yuhua gave a small shake of her head, smiling through the welling tears in her eyes.
"He will. My brother's will is stronger than most men's bodies. As long as danger still looms around us, he will open his eyes. He must."
Her voice trembled on the last words, and she turned to look at Tian Ke, blinking away her tears. Ji-nara let out a sob.
"I'm sorry… this is all because of me…" Her breathing hitched, overwhelmed by grief. Yun Yuhua immediately wrapped her arms around her.
"Don't be sorry," she said softly. "If he hears you blame yourself, it will wound him more deeply than this." She tightened the embrace. "He chose this path, and he chose it knowing the cost."
Ji-nara broke into painful sobs, crying freely into Yun Yuhua's shoulder, her cries echoing like a song of guilt and love. They remained by his side through the night, praying he would open his eyes. Every passing hour deepened their longing, each quiet moment filled with care. They waited—missing him, hoping Heaven would grant his return.
The next day dragged on endlessly. Ji-nara had not left Tian Ke's side for even a breath, her fingers gently wrapped around his as if her will alone could wake him. Qian'ai and Yun Yuhua stepped quietly into the tent. Their eyes landed on Ji-nara, who remained seated, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the sleeping figure before her. Yun Yuhua approached and placed a soft hand on her shoulder, her smile faint but comforting.
"It has already been more than a day," Ji-nara said, her voice trembling with unease. "When will he open his eyes…?"
Qian'ai let out a quiet sigh. "That, no one can say. But tell me—when he does, are you planning to scold him right away?" he said with a teasing glint. Ji-nara blinked, then let out a small laugh, unexpected even to herself. Qian'ai's warmth never failed to ease the weight in her chest.
"He's so cruel," she muttered, her smile bittersweet. "He left without a word, then returned only to collapse. I was ready to scold him until his ears turned red."
Yun Yuhua chuckled softly. "He's always carried the burden alone. Now, it's our turn to stand guard over him."
The three of them shared a soft laugh, their voices gentle in the quiet of the tent. In that moment, laughter was the only thread holding their hope together. They wiped away the tears that came from both laughter and longing.
Then, suddenly—Tian Ke groaned.
"You're all too loud…" he muttered. They froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide with disbelief—then joy burst forth like sunlight through clouds. Laughter filled the air again, this time bright with relief, and they smiled through their tears, overwhelmed with happiness.
"Dage!" Yun Yuhua and Qian'ai called out at once. Ji-nara burst into tears as she threw her arms around Tian Ke. He jolted slightly, gasping as the sudden pressure hit his chest. Ji-nara quickly pulled back, alarmed.
"I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?" she asked anxiously. Tian Ke let out a faint chuckle, his voice weak but warm.
"I'm all right… Still breathing, aren't I?" Tian Ke said with a faint grin, attempting to lighten the mood. Ji-nara let out a choked laugh through her tears. She gently struck his arm, her hand trembling as she tried to compose herself.
Outside the tent, Qian'ai's eyes sparkled. He turned swiftly and rushed toward the Emperor's quarters. The moment he arrived, he dropped to his knees.
"Rise, Qian'ai. Such formality is not needed," the Emperor said, noting the boy's expression.
"Dage has awakened!" Qian'ai beamed. The Emperor's face turned pale. He stood so suddenly that his robe fluttered behind him.
"He has opened his eyes?"
Qian'ai nodded eagerly, eyes wide with joy.
"Yes, Your Majesty. He's awake."
Without another word, they hurried to Tian Ke's tent. The physician was already there, checking Tian Ke's pulse with practiced fingers. A calm smile appeared on his face.
"His pulse remains weak, but his condition has stabilized," the physician reported. "With proper rest, he should regain strength within a few days. If recovery continues as expected, he may stand by the sixth day. But I must advise no exertion for at least two weeks."
"I understand. Thank you, truly," Tian Ke quietly nodded. The physician bowed respectfully before leaving the tent. The Emperor stood silently momentarily, a faint smile crossing his face as he looked at his grandson. His voice, almost a whisper, was filled with emotion as he closed his eyes.
"Thank you for guiding him back, Dage," the Emperor whispered to himself, the words full of both gratitude and the weight of past sacrifices.
Two days passed in quiet recovery. Tian Ke remained bedridden, with Yun Yuhua and Qian'ai constantly watching. Ji-nara also wished to stay, but as an unmarried princess, tradition demanded her return to her mother's side.
Meanwhile, the Emperor turned his attention to justice. The Third Prince, whose actions had endangered Hetunara and his own kin, now stood trial before him. The shame rippled far beyond the Ming court—Ji-nara was not only a Mongol princess, but a royal of Joseon as well. Seated in the center of the tent, the Emperor glared at the Third Prince, who dared not meet his gaze.
"Commander Yelua…" the Emperor called.
The Third Prince stepped forward, trembling. "Here," he stammered.
The Emperor let out a long, disappointed sigh before slamming his hand on the chair's armrest. Yelua flinched.
"You—"
Before the Emperor could finish, a eunuch rushed in and bent low to whisper in his ear.
"The King of Joseon has arrived."
The Emperor said nothing at first. A thin, knowing smile curved his lips.
"How gracious of the sinners to present themselves in timely fashion," he murmured, his voice laced with cold amusement. "Perhaps Heaven favors retribution on this day."
From a distance, King Lee Jae sat within his palanquin, his young queen, Lady Kim Jeong Nim, seated gracefully beside him. Three high-ranking officials of Joseon—among them, the Queen's father—followed on horseback, solemn in bearing.
As the procession reached the Mongolian encampment, the palanquin halted at the gates. King Lee Jae stepped down first, then extended his hand to assist Her Highness with care. Together, they approached the entrance of the grand tent, the weight of the moment thick in the air. Before they could enter, a Ming eunuch stepped forward and bowed low, arms folded in proper etiquette.
Lee Jae's gaze narrowed slightly. "And whom do you serve?" he asked with measured curiosity.
"I am a servant of His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Great Ming," the eunuch replied with crisp dignity. "His Majesty awaits within and is prepared to deliver his spoken judgment."
Queen Jeong Nim's eyes widened in disbelief. "The Emperor himself?" she breathed.
Without another word, the eunuch extended his hand in a gesture of invitation. King Lee Jae straightened his posture, adjusting his sleeves with composed grace. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. Queen Jeong Nim followed beside him, and the three Joseon ministers silently entered behind them.
Lee Jae met the gaze of the Ming Emperor, who regarded him with a smirk that carried both amusement and veiled warning. They sat opposite each other in the ceremonial hall, with Commander Yelua kneeling at the center—his head bowed low in disgrace. Nearby, Princess Lee Hae sat rigid, her eyes sharp and unyielding as they bore into Yelua. The Emperor flicked his sleeves with practiced grace and leaned forward on his seat. In Ming, he spoke with a calm and measured voice.
"Why does the sovereign of Joseon appear before this court today?"
A translator swiftly approached from behind and whispered the words into Lee Jae's ear. He drew a quiet breath, eyes still on Yelua.
"It has been a long time since I've seen my sister," Lee Jae replied calmly, his voice composed in the formal cadence of the Joseon court. "I came to ensure her well-being."
The Emperor let out a deep, resounding laugh, sharp as a blade cloaked in silk.
"A reunion, is it?" he said, voice tinged with irony. "Then allow us to conclude what was once interrupted."
Lee Jae's jaw tightened, but his expression remained unreadable.
"If that is Your Majesty's will," he answered, low and firm. The Emperor's smirk returned as his gaze shifted to Yelua, who had not lifted his head.
"Strip him of all rank," the Emperor declared, each word a final blow. "From prince, to commander, to nothing but a nameless man. Let him be cast out from the steppes of Mongolia—he who dared defy the command of Heaven's Mandate."
Yelua's shoulders trembled, but he did not protest. The weight of the hall fell silent.