THE BETRAYAL
526 Words
The attack came during a royal procession.
It was meant to be a display of unity. Silk banners bearing the royal crest rippled above the streets. Musicians lined the route, drums echoing in measured rhythm. Citizens knelt as the king’s carriage passed, heads bowed in reverence.
Ara sat beside Lee Hwan beneath the embroidered canopy, aware of the tension beneath the ceremony. Public appearances had become calculated risks since rumors of her pregnancy had spread. Still, the king refused to show fear before his people.
A hidden archer waited among the rooftops.
No warning.
No visible movement.
Just the sharp whistle of air splitting.
A scream tore through the crowd.
Chaos erupted instantly. Horses reared. Guards shouted. Steel clashed as royal soldiers searched desperately for the source.
The arrow had been aimed with precision.
Straight for the king’s heart.
Ara saw it a fraction of a second before it struck. Perhaps it was instinct. Perhaps it was love.
She moved without thinking.
Her body shifted in front of his.
The arrow grazed her side instead of piercing his chest, tearing through silk and skin before embedding into the carriage frame behind them.
Pain bloomed hot and blinding.
Gasps echoed across the street. The king caught her before she collapsed fully, his expression shattering in a way the public had never seen.
The wound was shallow. The royal physicians later confirmed it had missed anything vital.
But the shock was not shallow.
By nightfall, her body trembled with violent contractions.
Too soon.
Far too soon.
For two days she drifted between consciousness and darkness. Lanterns burned constantly in her chamber. Physicians whispered urgently. Court ladies prayed. Outside the doors, guards stood rigid, knowing the stability of the kingdom hung in the balance.
Lee Hwan did not leave her side.
Not for council. Not for rest.
He sat beside her bed, still wearing blood stained robes from the procession, holding her hand like a man drowning and refusing to let go of the only thing keeping him afloat.
Each time her breathing faltered, his grip tightened.
Each time she cried out, something inside him broke further.
When the child finally arrived, the room held its breath.
Then a cry pierced the air.
Small. Fragile. Alive.
The midwife’s expression shifted before she even spoke.
A daughter.
The room fell silent.
Not a son.
A daughter.
In the corner, Lady Hae rin watched from the shadows, her lips curving into the faintest, thinnest smile. Relief flickered in her eyes. A daughter complicated succession. A daughter could be negotiated.
But the king did not look at the court.
He did not look at the midwives.
He looked at Ara.
Tears streamed openly down his face, unrestrained and unashamed.
He took the infant into his arms as though holding something sacred beyond measure.
She will be fierce, he said, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead gently to Ara’s.
Like her mother.
And in that moment, the disappointment others anticipated never came.
There was no regret.
Only love.
And for the first time in generations, a king publicly celebrated a daughter as if she were the greatest victory of his reign.
- Writer
