« Sunghoon »

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Happy New Year Oiiiii

Last chapter of the year!

This has been hanging around for months in my drafts and I was just  mislooking it the whole time 😭 was actually planning to write a whole book for this but,originally, this story was supposed to be a boy x boy prompt hehe

ain't related to new year but who cares?

Warning : violence, ptsd

In which a handmaid serves a noble who, after being held captive for years, suffers an emotional strain and struggles to recover.

➷。˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

Worst nights.

For a lady who had to witness the detriment parading itself before her eyes, those were the worst nights.

Y/n's solemn prayers were broken off by the time she heard the grand  courtier's bell: a call for another command.

She hurried to his chamber just to meet no lord. Only a miserable boy, perhaps more miserable than she was as a sorry maid. The young lord was desperately swinging his sword here and there, hacking off the wooden ornaments around his chamber as he would with the heads of his traitors. "Die!" He exclaimed. "Die and I shall never see you again!" His screams persisted along with broken things and bleeding hands. Each night looked just like that. And each night, Y/n had to hold her master down, earning several bruises before her lord could finally fall weak and submit to her arms. 

"My lord," The maiden muttered softly. "It's alright. I'm here." 

"They're all here... They're all coming back." Sunghoon muttered breathily, unconsciously clawing on his maid's arm. "They're going to take me."

"No, my lord." She said, slowly taking off Hoon's tight grip. "You just need sleep... That's all. They  would be gone in the morning." Y/n held him down to his bed, carefully tucking the fur blanket. Taking off the sword from Hoon's sight, she asked. "Does my lord need anything else for his comfort?"

"Flay them." Hoon said.

"But—"

"Tell the hand." The young lord turned his strained gaze to the maid, his lips forming an uncontrollable grin. "Tell him to flay them all until all I can see are their bones covered in snow."

Y/n nodded obediently as she knew he would do no such thing. She killed the candles one by one, making sure that Hoon's chamber was dark enough not to cast even just a small shadow on the very walls. And now he could finally shut his eyes.

Y/n would like to believe war took the true Sunghoon. At least that was what everyone around the place was telling each other. He never feared people. He never feared killing if it would be the price for victory. Most of all, he never feared the shadows on those walls. A different Sunghoon came home. Lost and broken and desperate and afraid. Perhaps being held as a pawn could do so much as to make someone this demented. 

Perhaps before becoming Lord Paramount, your own clan would have to uplift an unlawful rebellion against a kingdom and lose, and you have to be held captive before the maids like y/n would feed you and dress you and bow to you, because that was what happened to Hoon. For many years he had not breathed the air from home, not until gold was spilled, in which it never did, not until a brother had to initiate a war after their father had befallen, winning him back to the cost of his own life, then leaving Hoon a crown to place on his head and a home with only their father's friends. 

Then there was execution for the most of his reign. Flaying was his fashion of killing. Then followed by the burning of villages in the lost kingdom. Then followed by the same worst nights when he would just break and hurt. His counselors would try, of course, and bring whores to his chamber to warm his night. And in the mornings they would find their corpses lying upturned on the bed. Those ladies were also the same shadows to his eyes, so he would never touch them. 

The rare nights, though, granted y/n's wishes. Hoon would just be still and read letters. He would open the window and smell the earth outside. They would talk and he would apologize for the bruises. Perhaps a part of him knew he was the lord paramount, therefore, was expected to come back and rise from the mires... That smile... That thought... Drove him away from the ghosts of his traitors.  

As his stewardess, y/n witnessed all of those nights. She would be his friend for some of it and a foe for another part of it. Yet, to see that Hoon was slowly being relieved was a headway. 

Y/n was called on the hour of the owl. Her heart no longer raced as harshly as it used to be, thinking whatever she would see in Hoon's chamber would be the death of  her.
She thought about the worst nights again, then took a deep breath.

Arriving at the room, she was met by her master, aiming his crossbow right on her.

Y/n flinched, causing him to chuckle softly. "A rich lord from the south gifted me this." Hoon said. "Says I should name him." And he meant the bow.

Y/n signed in relief. "What should you name him, my lord?"

Hoon let out a derisive smirk. "I'm not a fool who names things." He cued for his maid to come closer, and as y/n obeyed, Hoon was careful enough not to startle her by handing her the crossbow.

"But, I don't think I can—"

"Nonsense." Hoon said. "Don't you want to feel like you're brave enough to shoot an arrow for once? How I've longed for  that feeling."

Y/n could only grin awkwardly as the first thing she felt was the heaviness of the wood and steel. Hoon moved behind her, placing his hands on hers as he taught her how to hold a crossbow properly. He felt y/n's cold hands shiver and so he tightened his grip, making the shaking stop. Then turning his gaze to the lady, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Calm down. I don't bite."

"You only kill, my lord."  Y/n bluntly uttered out of fear, but only earned his laugh. "Be careful, my lady. I'm starting to grow fond of your company." He said. "Now, hit anything you wish to hit."

Y/n decided to aim at the painting hanging high on a wall, then hitting the head of the lady on the portrait. She sighed in relief, gently releasing the bow.

"Rare nights." Hoon sniggered, grabbing a goblet of wine from the table. "My maid could hit better than me."







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