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write-it-good-imagines · 5 years ago

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The Masked Ghost - Jackson Wang AU

HELLO FOLKS, HERE COMES YOUR ADORABLE AUTHOR AFTER HARSH WINTERS OF WAITING!!! Ahem, well, I took my time, but this is one of the stories I really am proud of. It originally started as inspiration from the ��100 ways’ MV and song but you know me; I love myself a good read. I hope you all enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it~ I hope the details are historically accurate, I tried documenting myself first so it would make the experience more real.

Synopsis: The heavy burden of the crown will soon become Prince Jackson’s responsibility. He wants to be a good ruler to his people and correct the mistakes of his ancestors. He seeks the help of a famous rebel among his people to guide him through the process. The urban legend is, however, an old friend of the Prince.

15.6k words, Emperor AU, somewhat soulmate au too, Historical inspiration, crime, explicit violence, love

“My dear son, there will be a time when the feeling of love won’t be a fleeting breeze, but a fulfilling storm and it shall last as long as your heart keeps on beating. “

“How will I know it, Mama?”

“Oh, Jackson, you will feel it battling so violently in your chest, it’s an unmistakable feeling. You will just know.”

Prince Jackson opened his eyes abruptly, the light of dawn bathing the room through the beautifully embroidered drapes of his royal chamber. He let out a low groan of displeasure and stood up to adjust to the low lighting. A lazy hand was brought up to rub at his eyes. He woke up a little earlier than usual, he figured. His servants weren’t swarmed around him to make sure he was offered everything he needed from the moment he opened his eyes.

He crawled out of bed and tightened the bead of his robe as he walked to the side door of his chamber so he could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. The garden was stretching vastly outside his porch and he took a couple of barefooted steps outside, the grass tickling his feet. His days of being a crown prince were rapidly coming to an end, along with the freedom he previously enjoyed. His father was ready to retire and let him inherit all the heavy responsibilities of the throne. Jackson let out a sigh and looked up at the sky. The bold rays of the sun engulfed the garden and he sheltered his face with the back of his hand.

“Your majesty! What are you doing outside? You aren’t even dressed!”

Jackson closed his eyes momentarily, his moment of peace quickly falling to pieces. He turned his body to the source of the voice, greeting the old gardener with a warm smile. He was the only one actively serving Jackson at his age; he had always felt like a grandfather to him.

“Did the servants cause you displeasure?”

“Not at all,” Jackson replied with a chuckle. “I woke up a tad earlier and I figured I’d enjoy the calm—“

The frail door of his chamber was opened once again, the loud sound indicating the rush and panic of the servants who failed to find him in his bed.

“While it lasted, your majesty?” the old man laughed, patting Jackson’s arm lightly.

The young girls bowed their heads stiffly and waited as the lead servant and tailor approached Jackson with a look of disapproval on their features. “Your majesty, you should not walk so hastily around, especially without your shoes! What if you hurt yourself, your majesty?”

Jackson nodded imperceptibly and dipped his head towards the old man before walking ahead of his two most worried servants. “What could possibly happen to me? Step on a rock?”

He heard the young girls giggle at his remark and were immediately scolded by the senior servant. “You should take this more seriously, your majesty! You will be emperor soon! What will everyone make of you if you show yourself so carelessly?”

Jackson extended his arms to allow his tailor to dress him into his appropriate clothes. His room became crowded in an instant with people who were either making his bed or arranging his table with the necessary tools for the morning routine. He turned his back to the young girls during the time of his fitting, trying to ease some of their embarrassment.

“Your majesty, are you sure you do not want anyone to come and shave you?”

Jackson shook his head, bringing his hands to his waist to tie the golden sash over the black chest piece. His fingers lingered over the small embroidered details which formed an elegant pattern on top of the charcoal silk. He was among the few men at the palace who opted for trousers which often rose eyebrows for the lack of elegance. His outfit was completed by the gauntlets adorning his forearms. The tailor took a good look at his prince. “I have never seen anyone who suits black and gold more than your majesty does. Although your palette is rather poor in terms of colors.”

Jackson laughed and buttoned his collar. “Thank you for your sincerity. My father would have had you beheaded for this.”

The man bowed his head in terror, so Jackson placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe you should follow his example, your majesty!” The head servant folded her arms over her chest. She was one of the few seniors in the palace who disagreed with the friendlier approach Jackson had with all of the servants. He was known for being kind and humble, someone who tried treating everyone with respect, no matter their job or title. Everyone adored him for being such a sympathetic royal and there were many who competed for being assigned to him. Although those part of the older generation questioned his extended kindness. They did not see it fit for a future king. Especially since it attracted greedy females around him.

“How can I abuse my power? These people are my servants, not my slaves.” Jackson sat down at the table and took the blade in between his fingers to get rid of his facial hair.

“Prince, forgive my ignorant outburst.” She bowed to Jackson. “I wouldn’t want people to take advantage of your otherwise bright nature—“

“Are they, though?”

Jackson smirked at the voice of his best friend and closest advisor, Guiren, who leaned against the doorframe. The girls formed a line to bow to him and steal some glances.

“I wouldn’t recommend mistaking his majesty’s kindness for weakness.”

“Ah Guiren, weren’t we supposed to meet for breakfast?” Jackson wiped his face clean with a white piece of cloth, sewed with the same sophisticated design. “You came here to shadow my popularity among the servants?”

The girls blushed at Jackson’s words and were ushered outside by the lead servant. “We’ll leave you to master Guiren, your majesty. The breakfast is ready to be served in the main backyard, as you requested.”

“Then that would be all, thank you. I would like us to be alone at this time.”

The seniors bowed to Jackson before retreating out of his chamber. Guiren approached his best friend with a smug expression imprinted on his features. “As much as I want to, I cannot top you, Jackson. The queue of females desiring to climb in your bed is long enough to circle the empire twice. It beats me how you simply refuse to summon any to your chamber.”

Jackson waved his hand dismissively. “That is of no concern to me now. You showing up so eagerly means you took care of what I asked.”

“I have some interesting things to share with you, indeed. The soldiers are full of gossip.”

The two of them walked to where the breakfast was served, avoiding the topic on their way there. One of the first lessons Jackson’s father taught him was that walls have ears and people’s trust is as fray as a cherry blossom flower in late spring. And he knew himself how many people were executed because of betrayal or plotting against the empire over trivial interests such as riches.

Guiren was the right hand of the military general and was regarded highly in their ranks. He had been too young to participate in the last big war but was otherwise trusted with many little revolts scattered across the empire and had an immeasurable amount of talent in swordsmanship. And Jackson’s mentor in the art.

“Before I tell you about it though, why do you seek their help? What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Jackson took the chopsticks in between his fingers. “One of the many advantages of the royals is that they are rarely revealed to the wider public and that gave me the possibility to go among our people. I’ve heard some worrying words that a new war is boiling.”

Guiren followed his example. “That was before the public ceremony last month. You were introduced as our new king, though.”

Thanks to his endeavors among the people of the empire and his occasional help with the field works, Jackson was enthusiastically received as their new monarch. He knew how important it was for people to put their trust in their king and how necessary it was for them to believe the king can serve them accordingly. It was a steady path toward peace. However, he did not help people just for the sake of it. He really enjoyed putting a smile on their faces and easing their hardships in however manner he could. He was deeply saddened to see how much misery the upper class poured upon them. And the people loved him in return.

“So who keeps you informed?”

“The old gardener, remember him? His granddaughter runs a bathhouse.”

Guiren chuckled. “Well, figures you would put your looks to good use. That’s smart, though. A bathhouse is a commonplace for fresh information.”

Jackson agreed and put his bowl of rice down. “Your turn.”

“Well, what do you want me to begin with?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The beginning.”

Guiren scratched at his nape and clicked his tongue. “Okay. But make sure you chew the food before I tell you.”

“Ah come on, just say it.”

“The Masked Ghost is supposed to be a woman.”

Jackson choked on his food. Guiren quirked his eyebrow at him, handing him his cup of tea.

“Told you.”

“That’s impossible.” Jackson shook his head and took a sip from his tea. “Thirty officials killed over the past month, countless other thieves and criminals mysteriously dead and you tell me she’s a woman?”

“She’s certainly been building her reputation in the empire, but believe me when I say she is worshipped by common folk because she brings them the justice us royals fail to. My sources cannot be wrong about this.”

Jackson took his chin in between his thumb and index. “My father showed me some of the bodies. Those were clean cuts of the jugular.”

Guiren nodded. “I suppose his majesty only told you the bright part of the story. Some of the officials she killed were applying the tax law too harshly on farmers and often overworked them for an extra coin. But the others that she killed were known for their abusive behavior towards women and their violent outbursts that led to innocent girls being murdered in the process. One of your cousins was her target for a short while. It looked like he was innocent so he was spared.”

Jackson winced. He knew the King tried his best to reduce the abuse rate in the country because history taught him it comes with drastic consequences, but he could only do so little about his officials. There was no written law that women were not meant to be toys of the thirsty wolves.

“There’s more. They say the Masked Ghost entered a fight with 10 of our trained palace guards because she was caught beating a thief to literal death. Word has it she was so skilled with a sword that they couldn’t even scrape her. She’s been regarded as a highly wanted murderer ever since.”

Jackson tilted his head toward a group of birds playing around the pond in the yard.

“That being said,” Guiren continued after having finished his plate. “I won’t let you meet The Ghost.”

“No.”

“Jackson, are you insane? She’s shown no remorse toward any of her victims. Do you think she’ll spare you because you’re set to become King? She was so close to killing your cousin, a royal by blood.”

Jackson looked back at Guiren with a determined look in his eyes. “I need the ghost to teach me how to wield a sword and how to fight.”

“I do plenty of that.”

“You don’t. Because they don’t allow you to. What am I supposed to do if an actual war comes, Guiren? Sit pretty on my throne and watch you sacrifice yourselves for me?”

Guiren let out a scoff. “That is our duty, your majesty.”

Jackson shook his head and looked away. “I cannot put my life in the hand of my subjects. Even if I trust you with my life Guiren, I refuse to be helpless. And honestly, now that I’ve heard the whole story, I kind of understand her reasons.”

Guiren blinked in surprise. “Killing high government officials because she doesn’t like the law?”

“The Ghost might take the law in her hands. But it is just, however wrong. She does what we cannot.”

Guiren acknowledged Jackson’s words, despite the fact that he hated how much truth resided in them. He was a dedicated follower of the written law even if he did not completely agree with it because it was the right thing to do. And Jackson knew, too. Rules are meant to keep a society in order and are meant to be obeyed, no matter the personal beliefs. That was what a monarch did. What Jackson soon had to do.

“Listen, Jackson.” Guiren sighed. “I know you will be a great ruler especially because you are not a tyrant. But don’t succumb to your own heart. It will bring much disorder. And you alone cannot turn around habits that all of us inherited for ages. It’s how your father and his predecessors kept this empire flourishing. By abiding to the customs and to the law.”

“I am aware of that.” Jackson said, defeated.

“But that doesn’t make you change your mind, now does it?”

The two of them laughed and Guiren gave his friend a tiny bit of paper. “I need a skilled person in the field. I need to keep track of everything so I can reduce the violence and the blood, no matter how little.”

After his evening duties finished, a whole lesson taught by his father and his advisors about politics and economics, Jackson was sent back to his chamber for the night. He waited for the servants to exit his room and whistled in a distinctive tone to let an awaiting Guren know he would be thus unsupervised. He was given common clothes and a cape to mask his silhouette from the curios eyes and then swiftly sneaked out of the palace thanks to his friend’s authority and his secret routes.

The night was in full bloom, the darkness thick even with the torches lit around the capital to provide some light. There weren’t many people walking the streets and it made it even easier for him to move around. Jackson checked the writing on the bit of paper and was still perplexed by how vague it was. Guiren did not give him an exact location in the clue so he strolled around the back alleys, trying to find something for guidance. His feet stopped abruptly and dug into the dirt when the unexpected cold of a blade made contact with the skin of his neck.

“If it isn’t Prince Wang taking a night walk on my turf. Or should I say King Wang?”

Jackson felt a cold shiver traverse his spine. The voice belonged to a woman indeed, but the harshness of it told him there would be but a wrong word to his end.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Jackson gulped and felt the tip of the blade tracing a vein in his neck. He knew you would have killed him long ago if you felt like it. “I wish to speak with you.”

He heard you chuckle and, in spite of the rather crucial situation he found himself in, thought it was a beautiful sound. “Oh? I knew I was famous in the palace, but I did not expect a royal coming down here with a speech prepared for me. Speak quickly before I change my mind.”

Jackson couldn’t afford to hesitate. He went there to convince The Ghost to be his partner. “I want you to teach me how to wield a sword.”

If he hadn’t had a blade dangling at his throat, he would have allowed himself to be entranced by your beautiful laugh. You stepped lightly from behind him, your blade now lowered to your hand and you started playing with it as you kept on laughing.

“You know, the lady who sells rice cakes mentioned you are an entertainer but I didn’t expect you to amuse me this much!”

Jackson took a good look at you as you placed yourself before him. Your face was covered entirely by the impressive porcelain mask so as not to leave any clue of your facial traits and the dragon pattern painted on it was majestically executed. You certainly were taller than he expected you to be, matching him evenly, and your body was covered in a thoroughly crafted crimson leather armor, with black and brown assortments. The only thing he could only catch a glimpse of in the endearing moonlight was your ebony hair, braided in a style he did not recognize. It must have been one of the foreign treats he had read in the papers brought to the palace by the naval officers.

“I did not intend to humor you. My reputation precedes me, yet now I am but serious.”

You turned your back to him. “Go home, Prince. This is not a place for you flimsy royals.”

“I beg of you. I want to be a King worthy of his people, capable of shielding them from danger. And as I am now, I am incompetent.”

You stopped in your tracks and tilted your head towards him. You were taken by surprise; never in your life have you heard of any royal who walked among the commoners, let alone beg one of the nation criminals to teach him how to better himself. You heard rumors about him and spied on his activities when he was out in the empire but it was never enough to convince you he was any different from his predecessors. He came out of the same cocoon after all.

“This empire has never had a King worthy of his people, your majesty.” Jackson could hear how acid his title was in your mouth. “You royals are born with a silver spoon in your mouth and you think the world belongs to you. What do you know about what these people are going through to keep your filthy egos in place and your stomachs full? Just so they could live to see the morning sky another day. Pathetic.”

Jackson could not see your face but he could feel your anger boiling inside of you. You were more than justified to spit at him and mock him; he was well aware all you said was the truth. Almost everything.

“Don’t you fight for what you believe in to make a change?”

You knitted your eyebrows. Your silence was an indicator to continue. “I want to help these people make a change. I want to at least try. And there is no use in telling you the masters and politicians at our court do not teach us how to forge a change. But I am not stupid to overlook it.”

“Your father failed in doing so. What makes you different?”

“My father did not try to understand your people.”

You turned completely to him and took your first look at him. Women all over the country fawned over his good looks and in all honesty, you were a woman too. All of the royals were refined, still, and you did not allow yourself to be enraptured by it. The stern look in his eyes made you question his intentions. You fought for a leader who would lead his people for the people, not for himself. Even if the King was not a bad ruler, he failed to serve his people. You actually wondered if his son was any different.

You took your sword out from the scabbard and threw it at him. Much to your surprise, he caught it by the hilt. Jackson looked at the exquisite sword and wondered if it was slightly lighter than the ones at the palace.

“If you manage to touch me with that sword, I’ll consider.”

You sensed the hesitation. “I am a woman but I could kill you easily if I felt like, your majesty. I thought you treated me as an equal.”

Jackson nodded. You were right, he came to you for help because you were the skilled one. No matter how many crimes you had under your belt, he felt the strong sense of righteousness oozing from you. He was convinced it was not easy for you.

He dashed over to you in a leap, swinging his sword in mid-air. You deflected the sword with your knife, taking a step back to steady yourself. You certainly did not expect such a well-placed swing. Jackson seized the momentum to bring his other foot to the front and glide the sword through the air. You countered it with the back of your knife, his eyes making direct contact with yours.

“It would seem like they did teach you something, your majesty.”

Jackson took a cross-step to the back, the sound of metal scraping on metal echoing in the night air. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

You smirked at his words and anticipated his next move. Jackson twirled the sword in his hand as he walked toward you, taking a full swing from above. You lowered your body to the ground in a lunge and then quickly jolted up to disarm him. Jackson barely dodged to the side. You pushed forward and he leaned backward, using the support of his hands to do a backflip. He rested on the ground for a second.

“You are so intense, Ghost.”

“Too bad you are never going to see that for yourself, Prince.”

Jackson’s eyes widened in shock at your remark and that cost him his loss. He was left wide open and you threw your knife accurately, inches to the side of his head, to force him to lose balance then rushed forward, pushing him to the ground. Your knee was placed on the fuller as you straddled him, one of your hands grabbing jokingly at his throat. “It is my victory, your majesty.”

You leaned over him to grab your knife from the ground and then sprung up. Jackson was at a loss for words. It was not that he did not expect you to beat him, he certainly lost his chance because of your rather vulgar words, followed by your indecent position atop of him. He draped an arm over his eyes and laughed under his breath. “It is.”

You sheathed your sword and watched him as he stood back up. He parted his lips to say something but reconsidered it, bowing his head to you instead. “I lost fairly but is there something I could do to change your mind about this?”

You walked over to him, raising his chin up with the back of your knife before twirling it in your hand to offer it to him. Jackson was not a stranger to weapons and close combat and his agility and quick reflexes with a sword certainly served for a pleasant surprise. You decided to play along.

“I feel generous tonight.”

Jackson took the knife from your hand and stole another glance at your eyes before you turned to walk away. It was a scorching shade of amber.

“So, how did it go last night?”

Guiren countered Jackson’s punch and went in for a high kick. Jackson put his arms together to absorb the impact.

“She is really skilled. She might have laughed at me at first though.”

Guiren chuckled. “What did you say? Teach me your ways?”

Jackson jumped back and wiped the sweat traversing his forehead. “Something like that. She threw me her sword and said that if I hit her once, she’d teach me.”

“Oh?” Guiren smirked and unbuttoned the collar of his uniform. “What then?”

“I lost, of course. But she gave me this knife as a gift so I figure I might see her again.”

Guiren examined the knife and let out a whistle. “This is a perfect hunting knife with a wide blade. I wonder where she gets these from.”

“Her sword was lighter than the ones we use here, too. I think she might have ties to the European weapon merchants.”

“So what you are telling me is that she put you to shame with a mere knife that she also offered you and deliberately agreed to teach you swordsmanship? Did you take her to bed?”

Jackson thought back to the part of the story he omitted to tell Guiren. Under no circumstance should he find out he might have fantasized a little. “Uhm, no, colonel, cease this nonsense at once. “

“I hate it when you bring out the aristocracy on me, your majesty.” Guiren laughed and resumed his fighting stance. “But in all seriousness, you should be careful. You might be playing right into her hand.”

Jackson nodded and put up his guard, bracing himself for another brawling with Guiren. He knew The Ghost was most likely entertaining herself and must have had other plans for him. Seeing you in action motivated him even more; he had to win your trust somehow and make you regain your faith in the crown. It was the best-case scenario for the both of you and for the empire. He could use your intel and your skills and, in exchange, you would benefit from a fair ruling. Even more so as Guiren hinted at military tensions between the empire and other states. He had to make a bold move before his coronation.

“Lady Y/n, how do you read this word?” one of the little children seated by your side pointed at the book, his curious eyes eliciting a bright smile from your lips.

“This?” You wrapped your free arm around him, pulling him on your lap. The other children protested collectively and crawled all over you. “This is justice, little one.”

“Justice?” another girl perked up at you. “What does it mean?”

You took a deep breath and tried to mask the heavy feelings you were carrying in your chest. You couldn’t show those children what disappointment was before their lives had even started.

“Hmm, well, justice means treating people fairly around you. It also means I am equal to you and you are equal to me.”

“So like how Prince Jackson treats us?”

You opened your arms and the children rushed into your embrace. You wanted to trust the Prince more than anyone but it was never an easy task. Monarchs had failed your country countlessly and it was hard to believe it would all come to an abrupt end.

“Okay children, leave our Lady Y/n be. Time is up.”

You giggled at their whines and gave each a hug as they went their way. You stood up and straightened the material of your skirt, fitting the sash after. “You were mean, Uncle! You know no one reads to the children.”

“I cannot wait to see the day when your own little dwarfs will cling to your side.” Your uncle offered you some freshly baked sweets which you took gratefully. “Do you truly dislike every man in the country?”

You giggled. “There will be a long and impossible road to my marriage, Uncle. No one deserves to carry the heavy burdens of The Ghost.”

“Speaking of which,” he began as he started walking among the cheerful people in the streets “I started investigating the Small Treasurer. It shan’t be long before we uncover his treacheries. But I understand there is another reason you sent word to the guild?”

You nodded your head. “Prince Wang came looking for me last night. I was surprised to find him wandering so close to our secondary post.”

“So what did he want?”

“This is the unthinkable part, Uncle. He wanted me to mentor him in swordsmanship.”

Your uncle took his chin in between his fingers. “It must have been that young Colonel, Guren. His web weaves vast into the empire. We have had trouble in the past accessing bits of information because of his own informants.”

You brought your hands to your hair to tie it loosely at the base of your neck. It was an unusually sunny day for the season. “He is a cunning one but I understand he would rather die than betray his Prince.”

“That is correct. What will you do, then? You know the Guild has been supporting the Prince from the shadows. It seems he will be a mighty ruler.”

“Certainly he is talented.” You nodded your head and your attention was captivated by a group of young boys waving to your direction. You smiled at them and returned the gesture. Your popularity among the other folk was a suitable cover for the day and it also served for cheap gossip. “I have decided to keep in touch with him for the time being.”

“Good. Perhaps you might take advantage of his loose tongue. Have you thought about going to the banquet? We can secure an invitation for you and for all one knows, you could have fun.”

Your hand caressed a piece of yellow silk resting on the table of one of the street vendors. You asked politely for it and paid the merchant in coin. As much as you loved your perfectly fitting armor, you adored sewing your own dresses, or offering them to the girls who were unable to afford them.

“Uncle, you know my opinion about these unnecessary feasts. It is a complete waste of coin. But I shall go if I see fit.”

Many times did you wonder about the infamous feasts of the palace. You had never gone to one before but had often heard impressive tales of the spectacle and of the people attending from all over the world; it was a true cultural asset. Although you wished some of the coin spent would go to improve the life of the citizens, you couldn’t help but desire to go to one.

“I would not mind if a foreign Prince asked for my niece’s hand in marriage, too.”

You laughed and livened up at his words. “Who would do such a thing, Uncle?”

“You ought to not underestimate yourself!” He scolded you with a bright glint in his eyes. “You are beautiful and smart and young. Should they marry you, they will be blessed!”

“Ah, I do not know how to obey a man. They would not stand me.”

The rest of the day was spent helping around the animal farm, alas without your full focus. Your mind kept darting back and forth to your previous encounter with the Prince. The serious look in his eyes when he spoke about dedicating his crown to the people deeply bothered you. After your parents had died at the hands of cowardly officials who only knew the art of squeezing coin out of people’s pockets, you had spent your adolescence years training and absorbing knowledge so you’d be able to fight their mistreatment. You wouldn’t allow yourself to believe in any of their descendants. Yet Prince Jackson managed to ignite a spark in your beliefs.

You were meditating when he made his appearance in the same back alley you had clashed the night before. You heard his light steps as he approached, not daring to interrupt you.

“You came, your majesty.” You opened your eyes and jumped up. You noticed a sword resting at his side and the eagerness on his face.

“Could you not mock me any further? If you dislike my title, then do not use it at all.” He whined as he pushed back the hood from his face. You folded your arms over your chest and chuckled.

“Should I not address you at all?”

“My name is Jackson.”

“I thought you beheaded people for not using your royal titles.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I don’t think I could ever behead you no matter how hard I tried.”

You also noticed he dropped his aristocratic pattern of speech and that he relaxed his stance in your presence. You couldn’t understand how he was so trusting in a stranger. In a murderer.

“Well, Jackson, shall we begin?”

A thing you appreciated about him from the get-go was his diligence. He was a quick study, undoubtedly blessed with both natural talent and perseverance. He was following your every move, executing it gracefully and it was easy to guess he would, someday, surpass your abilities if you kept on mentoring him. He was one of the few royals by blood who had the genes of a warrior. So you saw no problem in pushing his physical limits from the start.

Jackson had good stamina. He understood you’d push his buttons in a somewhat sadistic manner but he was determined to keep up with you and prove his worth. He was fascinated by your even breath throughout the training and his respect for you grew. Not only did you have endurance but your moves were swift and elegant, not making any unnecessary motions. You looked like a feather, waltzing with the wind.

Jackson knew his own sword swings were becoming sloppier with each heavier breath taken. You had to step by his side, trailing your hand over his arm to correct his posture. You felt his muscles easing under your touch. “You always have to keep your sword pointed to your enemy. This way, he won’t be able to sway your defense so easily.”

Jackson nodded and straightened his arm. He was convinced your breath would have fanned over his neck had the mask not covered your face. He was getting distracted.

“We shall stop for the night. I don’t want your body to be sore in the morning without any logical explanation to your servants.”

Your fingers slid down his forearm slowly, igniting an unknown flare in his veins. He was definitely getting distracted.

“Thank you.” He muttered quietly, clearing his throat. “Say, uhm,…Ghost.”

“I won’t tell you my name.” you stated, sheathing your sword.

“I didn’t mean to ask that, although I am slightly disappointed.” He laughed and you found yourself staring a little longer at the way his eyes curved into crescents. “Could you maybe teach me about other things as well?”

“Oh? Such as?”

He walked over to you, his hands resting on his hips as he managed to even his breathing. “I want to learn about the outer world. You look like you could teach me about its wonders.”

You didn’t know if it was his ruffled hair glowing in the moonlight or the way his defined chest rose every time his lungs filled with air but there was something about him that softened The Ghost. Before you could put your guard up, you agreed.

“I am unaware of how good of a teacher I am.”

Jackson smiled brightly; it made you look away. “I am sure you are a great one.”

“You should go back to the palace.” You said dismissively, trying to shake off the disturbance. Jackson sighed and took his cloak from the ground, glancing at you with the corner of his eye. He wished to stay a little while longer. He threw the black fabric over his shoulders; you were gone before he had his chance to say goodbye.

The next morning came too fast. Jackson opened his eyes and a rough groan evaded his chest at how heavy his body felt. He somehow managed to drape his arm over his eyes, putting in an inhumane amount of effort to ignore the pain in his muscles.

“Your majesty, are you not feeling well?” The head servant inquired, evident worry sketched all over her face. Jackson wanted to curse.

“Prepare a hot bath for me. I feel like I could die.”

The girls exchanged concerned looks among them before rushing out to express the Prince’s wish.

“There is an ominous flu in the air, your majesty. It might make your body weaker.” The head servant rushed to his side, helping him prompt himself up. “It is curious how you contacted it. Was it cold in your chamber last night, your majesty?”

A certain vicious female put me through Hell. “It was fine. I guess the season is to blame.”

“Should I send for your advisors to reschedule your day?”

Jackson pushed himself out of bed, adopting a funny stance as he stood. “No, I should be fine after the bath. I have a lot to do today and I cannot possibly afford to cancel it.”

One thing he managed to do best during that day was to attract the curious looks of servants and high officials alike as he was unable to walk properly. The young girls started chatting amongst themselves and it embarrassed the Prince to his core. Guiren was certainly aggravating the situation by involving himself with them and adding fuel to the fire. He made a mental note to punch Guiren as soon as he could. Even his brain felt atrophied. He couldn’t sit in the usual lotus position during his final lessons and some of the teachers had trouble containing their amusement at his struggles.

It lasted a couple of days until his body gradually got used to the effort. The first time you saw him walking with a cane to support his numb limbs, you nearly died of laughter. Jackson had never been that ashamed in his life. However, he got to enjoy the serene song of your laughter. He stole glances at the way your eyes would crinkle whenever you’d smile too wide and he had thought it unable to be jealous of a mask until then. He could not see your face but he was convinced you were beautiful.

After you had your fair share of laughter, you showed him a couple of exercises that would ease the tension in his muscles, guiding him closely throughout the process. He joked it was only fair to give him a massage and it took him a couple of moments to peel himself off the ground after a not so gentle push you gave him.

However, his inability to perform taxing battle stances meant you’d have more time to uncover tales about the world. It wasn’t a particular chronological order in which you told your tales; it was rather up to Jackson himself to decide what he was curious about. That night, you began unraveling the wonders of Greek Mythology because he only got vague answers from the adults at the court. It was a long and mighty history, so you took your time to travel through it, emphasizing some facts here and there, exaggerating others.

You had a mysterious way with words. Jackson found himself hypnotized by the way you’d express the universal history so carefully, yet so vividly he could extend his hand and brush his fingers over the events. Even as you resumed your battle training, you’d keep on telling which made it easier for him to grow accustomed to the art as he tried to put himself in the shoes of all the huge figures that came before him. And he could not get enough of your unique voice and the way it would liven up every otherwise dull word.

The nights started passing alarmingly faster and the expectation of seeing you again growing ardently. He was attracted to you like a moth to the flame, dangerously and all at once. Every minute that he spent in your company melted in the spiral of time so curiously that it felt like an eternity and a fleeting second all at once. What was more, he was convinced in his heart that the Ghost was only a sturdy façade of your true self. You weren’t what people made you to be: violent, barbaric, always lusting for blood. But you were so carefully hidden in the shell of the Ghost that it was almost impossible to tear yourself out of it.

Ironically, Jackson became eager to finish his duties at the palace successfully and speedily so he could gain some extra time to rest. Traversing back and forth between his royal assignments and the night rendezvous he had with you was demanding. The ministers and other highly ranked officials were extremely pleased with his hard work and started looking forward to having another dedicated King. Jackson couldn’t fathom what his father was thinking. For the time being, he kept his needed distance, doing his best not to give out any reason for doubt.

Three days before the royal banquet, you decided to bring Jackson a gift for his dedication. It seemed unlikely you would grow accustomed to your nightly meetings but you started looking forward to them. You wouldn’t admit it to yourself, but you underestimated him dearly. He was not a transparent person as you made him be; he truly was dedicated and trusting in the good nature of people. He had a subtle sense of humor and a fine eye for details that topped all of your expectations of him. He still was a Prince and the future King of the empire but he couldn’t be more human in your eyes. Before you knew it, you started respecting him. The small something he ignited in your chest was burning zealously and it was more and more difficult to tear your mind off him. You thought you found a friend in him.

That night, he was the first one to arrive. The sound of air slashed by the metal of his sword guided you to him and you smiled to him, even if would never see it.

“I see you were eager to start your training, your majesty.”

At first, using his title was meant to bring disrespect to him but it gradually developed into one of the ways you’d tease him.

“Hello to you too, Ghost.” Jackson chuckled and turned to you. “This was meant to wake me up. I had a full day and I guessed I would fall asleep waiting for you.”

“I think I am on time?” you approached him and unveiled the present. Jackson’s eyes widened at the new type of sword he was shown. With a significantly thin but sharp blade and a guard over the handle, it was an impeccable type of weapon he had never seen before.

“This is called a sabre and is of Spanish origins. Only knights and the cavalry use these in Europe. Gentlemen and nobles in France, Italy, and Spain are taught how to fight with these swords from a frail age.”

“It… it is beautiful. Where did you get this?”

“I wouldn’t be the Ghost if I didn’t have connections. Only a handful have been brought on the continent and I am one of the owners. Or I will have been. It’s yours if you want it.”

Jackson darted a hopeful look at you. He was moved. “You cannot be serious.”

“Those hefty swords that soldiers use might work for you, but they do not bring out your true potential. The sabre is not meant for brute force but rather for swift approaches and agile attacks. You’re quick on your feet and you mostly defend your body from attacks through dodges. It should work for you.”

“But if only a couple… I cannot take it from you.”

You shook your head and extended your gloved hand to place on his shoulder. “It’s my good luck present for you, your majesty. I can teach you how to make use of it.”

Jackson was very conflicted at the time. You had kept a steady distance from him, merely acting as a teacher to him, and he thought it foolish to bring his hopes of getting to know you up. He started nurturing the selfish desire that you’d soon take off your mask and show yourself to him so he could make sense of the disturbing feelings whirled in his chest. And he considered doing it himself if he ran out of patience. You giving him such a masterpiece to guard had an irreversible effect on him that he’d make sense of at a later and unexpected time.

“But not tonight.”

Jackson’s forehead wrinkled. “Why.”

“That… is not your concern, unfortunately. I cannot stay. Should you wish to learn how to maneuver it, I will be waiting tomorrow night.”

The night engulfed you in its darkness and an oppressing feeling of disappointment nested in Jackson’s stomach as you disappeared.

“You’re late, Y/n.”

You clicked your tongue and took out your mask, throwing it on the guild table. All of the other seven members of the council were gathered around, waiting collectively for you.

“Where were you?” the oldest and founding member questioned as you checked your braided hair. “Where’s the sabre?”

Out of the many arts they taught you, developing a persuasive nature, and the ability to lie without any smallest twitch in the muscles of your face were the ones you mastered best.

“I took a detour to bring it home, hence my late appearance.”

The co-founder grabbed at the bridge of his nose. “You knew we were discussing important matters tonight. May it not repeat again.”

“Sir.” You nodded and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. “The plans are in order I presume?”

“Complications have appeared.” Your uncle spoke sternly, handing you a set of papers. “This is the incriminatory proof that the treasurer has been abusing his power to fill his pockets. However, his authority wasn’t the only thing he managed to abuse.”

You skimmed through the papers, getting a general idea of the issue. It was pretty clear what you had to do. “Continue?”

“This man has been shielding assassins in his house.” Your master chimed in. “He has plotted the public death of both the King and Prince Wang on the night of the banquet.”

Your eyes widened and you looked up hurriedly at him. The founder continued.

“It’s the perfect cover. Various royals from all over the continent are bringing their daughters to win over Prince Wang’s heart and those who will not be chosen will be set up as murderers driven by revenge. It is not so unusual for assassins to sneak into such large public events.”

You clenched your fist, folding the papers in your hand in the process. “How did we not see this?”

“That snake has skilled confidants. It was very hard to obtain this bit of information because his guards are swarming around him all day long and his associates are, partly, royals who wished to overthrow the Prince but couldn’t due to their extended lineage.”

“This cannot happen.” You stated bluntly, raising the curiosity of all who were present. “Prince Wang is our only chance at correcting this empire. If he dies, there won’t be any shortcuts.”

You were taken aback by the words coming so effortlessly out of your mouth. You never cared for royals and had always despised them from the core of your existence. Why were you so protective over Jackson then?

“It will not happen.” The founder spoke through the silence, his eyes examining you thoroughly. “You are going to the banquet and so is your master. You are to prevent this from happening and extract the Treasurer silently from the event. Without any major events.”

Your uncle tilted his head to look at you. He was getting suspicious of your involvement with the Prince.

“What can you tell us about the Prince, Lady Y/n?” the cofounder challenged you and you had to bite into the plush of your cheek to hold back a rude remark.

“What about him?”

“We know you’ve been faithfully seeing him every night for the past 20 days. You have been mentoring him in swordsmanship and close combat. Why?”

A dark smirk crept on your lips. The low light of the candle lit in the middle of the wooden table brought a ghastly picture on your face. “Did you not want a competent King? I am making sure of that.”

“You’re playing with fire, little Lady. Are you sure he hasn’t charmed his way into your skirt?”

“Enough!” the founder rose his voice before you got the chance to curse at the other man for his irresponsible accusations. Although it assuredly made you ponder over the fact that you were bothered by the whole meaning of the banquet. “Does the royal family suspect anything?”

“No.” You turned abruptly to the founder. “They are concerned over outer military conflicts and eventual riots of the peasantry but they are not aware of the fact their lives are threatened.”

“And it shall stay like this,” your master concluded. “We cannot execute our mission without full discretion. I trust Y/n enough to dismiss your words, co-founder. We will carry our duty.”

The meeting ended with a final revision of the plan and the older men retreated to their respective homes. You were prepared to follow their examples and wanted to put the mask over your face again when your uncle grabbed you by the wrist. “You gave him the saber, didn’t you?”

Your gaze was fixated to the grand door of the hall, your back turned to him. You didn’t answer.

“Y/n, my darling, do you have feelings for the Prince?”

“No.” you answered too fast for your own liking. “And I didn’t reveal my identity to him either, Uncle. I don’t trust him.”

Except you did trust him. And it was the first lie you weren’t convinced to say. Your uncle let go of your hand and you put back your mask.

“Out of all men, why does it have to be the Prince, Y/n? You can never have him.”

You pushed the door open and gulped down a burdensome sentiment. “I know.”

The way back to the palace had never felt so lonely. Jackson managed to sneak back in successfully but he couldn’t shake off the disappointment eating at him. Just when he thought he was so close to laying the last brick, you crushed all his efforts yet again. Did he truly mean nothing to you? What was he lacking that he could not improve? What was missing from him so important that you kept yourself hidden so far away from his grasp?

Jackson hid the sabre neatly in the small space he dug into the floor, among his many other treasured possessions. Frustration was getting the best of him. Even the trivial task of undressing himself proved to be difficult as his fingers trembled with silent anger. The door to his chamber opened unexpectedly made him lash out his resentments.

“Who gave you permission to enter my room—“

Jackson froze at the sight of his father coming in. He rushed to bow to him, keeping his eyes focused on the colored carpets.

“So you are back, my son.”

He was ruined. The beating he would receive was one thing but explaining his situation with The Masked Ghost was a whole other matter. He had to come up with something. He remembered you telling him that panic was never a good solution to problems and that he should always analyze his situation before acting.

“Father, I was not expecting you at this hour.”

“You would have known I came by earlier had you been in your chamber.”

Jackson straightened his body and watched his father hide his hands in the large sleeves of his night attire. His face did not dictate anger.

“I know you have been sneaking out for a while, Jackson. You know we have moved up the ceremony of ascension the day after the banquet and you still waste your nights irresponsibly in town. I thought we have cleared it already.”

“My apologies, father. “ Jackson dipped his head in a bow, his hands brought together. No words would be able to save the situation.

“Is it a woman, my son? Why do you not bring her to court so she could properly become your consort?”

Jackson looked away, failing to provide an answer. It was not an easy question his father asked but it appeared he did not know why he was sneaking out; that settled most of his concerns.

“No mind, you would have, had she desired so.” He nodded his head softly. “But it has to end, boy.”

The King walked closer to Jackson and placed his hands on Jackson’s shoulders. “You will pick a woman fit to be your consort in just a few days and you will not have the need to satisfy your desires in secrecy. Kings do not lower themselves like that, Jackson.”

“Yes, father.” He pursed his lips. Jackson knew he pushed his luck doing what he was. “What did you wish to see me about?”

“Ah, I almost forgot.” The King pulled back and snaked his hand into his robe to pull out a beautifully carved wooden box. Jackson opened it and saw a handmade brooch, adorned with precious stones in an elegant foreign design. It was a piece of dazzling jewelry.

“You should gift it to your future woman.”

Jackson forced a smile. He disliked the whole masquerade that tradition was and the very thought of it made him sick in the stomach.

“I don’t want you going out anymore, understood? I shall grant you tomorrow night to say whatever you wish to say and that is it. I have high expectations of you. Do not make me change my mind about you, not after you’ve worked so hard.”

Jackson bowed to the King as he walked out of his chamber and let out a heavy sigh. He threw the little box on the bed and plopped down in the comfort of the blankets. He fell asleep thinking how much you’d love the brooch.

“You’re dead silent today, your majesty.” Guiren pointed out as he munched on his breakfast. “I figured you would teach me more of those impressive techniques the Ghost showed you! Those are dandy.”

Jackson threw his chopsticks on the table, the mention of you making him lose his appetite. “Father found out I was sneaking out.”

Guiren quirked a brow. “I apologize. How bad is it?”

“Not extensively bad. He does not know I have been seeing the Ghost but he made it very clear to stop.”

“Of course you should. You will soon choose a wife, of course, you should focus your attention on her. Women are so picky and need a lot of pampering, especially daughters of rich royals—“

“This is wrong, Guiren.” Jackson sighed exasperatedly. “All of this is so wrong. I just…I can’t.”

Guiren clicked his tongue. “Is it wrong because it is not the woman you want?”

Jackson placed his hand over his eyes, rubbing at his temples. He didn’t know what to think anymore, what was the truth and what was not. He disagreed with it from the beginning but the idea grew more and more gruesome by the second. Jackson figured what Guiren was implying but he was so confused himself that he could not provide a valid answer.

“Tell me, Jackson. What is it so special about The Masked Ghost? She is just a criminal.”

“It’s not about her, Guiren. And she is not just a criminal. This woman is more intelligent than all of the teachers in the palace combined. “

And a very good listener, too. “She is bad news, Jackson. Little does it matter that she is skilled or intelligent or whatnot. She is a criminal at the end of the day. And people don’t change. Give up on her before it comes back haunting you. That is one thing I am unable to save you from.”

Jackson’s steps were weighty as he walked to your meeting place. An abundance of feelings was pressing relentlessly over his shoulders, an unknown territory he did not have the knowledge to explore. Guren’s words were reverberating in his ears. He had to let you remain a ghost in spite of the caustic cravings in his chest.

He hoped to have a leisure last conversation with you so he could work on letting you go with peace of mind. When he saw you did not have your sword either he smiled to himself sadly. You read each other’s minds.

“I was worried you might scold me.” Jackson began in a melancholic tone. “But I won’t have to worry about that.”

Your body remained motionless at his words. “Follow me.”

Jackson let you take the lead and followed you to a nearby open plain that uncovered the beauty of the night sky. The dark horizon was embellished with glowing stars, the moon ruling over the world all mighty. You seated yourself on the grass and pat the spot beside you so Jackson would do the same.

“You never cease to amaze me.” Jackson commented, the vibrant light of the moon mirrored in his eyes.

You looked at him and found him ethereal, a work of art of all the known and unknown deities of the world. He was truly a handsome creature.

“Neither do you” you replied, although more to yourself.

Jackson chuckled lightly, his eyes focused on the nocturnal view. “I cannot see you anymore.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, relieved the sentence came out of his mouth and not yours. It felt a little less painful if he said so, although it didn’t ease the storm in your stomach. It was fine like that. You did not want him to hate you. He had to forget you and to forget, he couldn’t nurture hate for you because it would be engraved upon his heart. You knew that whatever one wished to forget, must not be preceded by hate. The memory you wanted him to have of you had to be a cherished one, not one of an obscene criminal.

“I understand.” You replied after a short while, a chilly breeze carrying your unsaid confession to the horizon. “How does it feel to know you’ll have the finest women on the continent battling for a place in your heart?”

“I…I don’t want any of it.” Jackson leaned on his back, extending his arm to the infinity of the stars. “It is wrong to make a draft and pick a woman as simply as you’d pick your attire for the day. Then drag them to bed to convince them they are acknowledged by the royal lineage. I want…”

Jackson’s voice trailed off and he let his arm fall to the ground. “…to love someone.”

Another endearing breeze masked a gasp that escaped your lips and you tilted your head to look at him. His face was painted with an old sadness of a soul that traversed the galaxy in search of a missing love and returned to the Earth to find it.

You clutched your chest in a desperate attempt to dissipate the suffocating air in your ribcage. You couldn’t stay. The longer you stayed by his side, the more you’d get pulled toward his existence and it was painful as flesh on shattered glass. You rose hastily to your feet, walking a couple of steps away from him.

Jackson waited a few moments in the grass, resisting the urge to stand up and follow after you. He tilted his head to the side and noticed your silhouette defying the peace of the landscape. He had to sit up to make sure he saw it right; your hair was let down, unbraided, the waves in your strands resembling the unsettling waves of the sea. Your mask was in your hand. He was incapable to catch a glimpse of your face as your back was turned to him and your hair was guarding your identity faithfully. It was the most distinctive shade of ebony his eyes had ever witnessed.

“I pray that you find the love you deserve someday, your majesty.”

Jackson reached out to you but was powerless to stop you as you melted into the night, your voice a distant echo.

“I did not anticipate so many people coming to the palace.”

Your eyes struggled to comprehend the multitude of things happening all at once. As soon as the guards allowed you to pass through, you were met by a sea of people swarming all over the place, competing against one another through the diversity of their outfits and appearance. The plaited decorations dangling from the rafters were coming alive in the beams of light shed by the lanterns. The small origami figures resembled flowers blooming from the twigs and the bold aroma of traditional food invited you to lose yourself in the unparalleled tableau.

You felt your master’s hand on top of your head and blushed as you snapped back to reality. “I know it is beautiful. I wish from the bottom of my heart you could enjoy it as you saw fit.”

You nodded and straightened your hand-made dress. You made good use of the bright yellow silk you bought from the street merchant the other day, making a dress befitting your silhouette. Your uncle praised you on the sewn floral details on the lapel and the elegant choice of bringing a white embroidery over the color. You had a small knife hidden in the golden sash tied in a ribbon around your waist. You also let your hair fall charmingly over your shoulders, trembling with each little step you took. The hair accessory holding part of your locks behind your ear was a daring gift from your Uncle. The single emerald on it complimented your attire perfectly.

“I know, Master. But we’re here to do our jobs. We should split up to cover more ground. The palace is indeed humongous.”

“You remember the blueprints?”

“I know where to bring them.”

A large amount of people was both an advantage and a disadvantage. You could blend easily in the crowd and hide your tracks but there were many guards supervising the area. And you had to concentrate your attention in many places at once. It was the hardest when you stepped inside the grand hall of the palace thanks to the forged papers from the guild. It was supposed to be a restricted area for the royals only but the air was suffocating with so many humans gathered in one place.

According to tradition, the Prince was allowed to roam free among the public, to greet them and receive their prayers before midnight. He also enjoyed the liberty of immersing himself in the traditional dances, alas was only in the restricted space to ensure his involvement with royal women. You decided it nearly impossible for the Prince to spot you amidst such mass of people so you took the liberty to examine the situation for any suspicious figures you were instructed about. The thrones in the far end of the room were empty which offered an extension of time.

It was, however, easier said than done. You recognized some of the lords but most of them remained unidentified to you and you weren’t exactly aware of what you were looking for either. You sneaked to the side of the room, trying to get a better angle.

“I do not recognize you, my Lady.”

You turned your body toward the source of the voice and met Colonel Guiren, his eyes studying you curiously. You smiled in response, thinking of ways to subtly extract bits of information about the people present. “Ah, Master, I beg your pardon, I am but another face in the crowd.”

The smirk shaping on Guiren’s face suggested you successfully captured him with your words. “I might be mistaken but there is no one around resembling your pulchritude.”

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. He wasn’t as talented in speech as the Prince but he was a charmer himself. “You are exaggerating, Master. I cannot help but feel lacking in comparison to some of the women here such as—“

You turned your attention to the crowd, hoping to draw a quick response from the Colonel when the words froze and pulverize on your lips. You saw Prince Jackson distinctively staring at you through the many females gathered around him.

“Oh, Jackson, you will feel it battling so violently in your chest, it’s an unmistakable feeling. You will just know.”

It was a beautiful war raging inside of him. The moment he laid eyes on the beautiful creature on the other side of the room, he knew it was you. The surreal shade of ebony of your hair confirmed his suspicions. And the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes crinkled ever so familiarly as you spoke were the same outstanding lines he repeatedly saw nights in a row. But your sublime features and lines in your face and skin were breathtaking. What was he doing before he met you? What did his heart do, with all the love?

Jackson’s eyes locked with your amber ones for a fading second before your sudden rush to leave meddled with his intentions of rushing over to you. He remembered his mother’s words faithfully and the hammering heart in his chest urged him to follow after you. He wouldn’t let you go again. He now made sense of the hesitation that chained him three nights prior; he was meant to meet you in your entirety and not in the dim space between mask and shadows.

Jackson chased after you, his eyes never peeling off your silhouette, pushing people out of his way. You must have realized he figured out your identity with just a glance and he wondered if you regretted your decision of showing yourself to him if you ran so fast to avid him. He barely made it in time to catch you by the wrist and held on tighter as you tried to rip yourself from his grasp. All eyes were fixated on the two of you as the tune of another melody started and Jackson pulled you into himself, forcing you to dance with him to hide you from the crowd.

“It’s you.” He barely managed to whisper, your hands in his setting fire to his fingertips. You swayed your body to the tune, forcing yourself to remain composed. Little did he know your body was reacting just as violently as his, thunder and rain cracking your insides little by little.

“You are destroying my cover, Prince.” You leaned over to him to whisper in his ear then backed away, making a pirouette. Jackson extended his arm and placed his hand on your exposed forearm, causing a fire to erupt in your veins.

“How are you here?”

His eyes were smoldering as he memorized even the tiniest characteristic of your face. You suddenly felt so small under his gaze and could only hope your cheeks weren’t turning red. His touch on your arm was magnetic.

“Do not mistake my intentions, your majesty.” You hissed, stripping yourself of him. You dug your teeth into your tongue, biting down a whine from the painful lack of contact. “I am not here for you.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Jackson grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him once again, his eyes never leaving yours. “How are you here?”

You looked to the side for a second and noticed the suspicious movements of two men chatting with your target not far from where you stood. You leaned up and brushed your cheek over his, your lips speaking sharply in his ear. “Your life is in danger, Jackson. You need to leave and you need to do it now.”

“What?” He meant to look at you but you cupped his cheek to keep him in place. Those unknown men left their positions while you spoke.

“Don’t move. I lost sight of them.”

You brought your other hand to your sash, fingers resting on the knife. You felt Jackson’s body stiffen. “What is going on? You are scaring me—“

You pushed Jackson away and placed yourself in the way of a throwing knife that penetrated your shoulder, a dangerous miss from the collarbone. The aim was not as steady as the culprit wished it would be but you didn’t hesitate with yours and made a clear throw which stabbed him in the throat. You clicked your tongue. He was dressed in an expensive robe; you knew it would not be plausible he tried to take the Prince’s life.

The panicked crowd started screaming and running around to get away from the horrific incident as rapidly as possible. Two other masked assassins appeared on the scene, facing you from either side. You removed the knife from your shoulder and tore your overcoat to grant yourself some extended movement. A timid stream of blood started flowing out.

“You need to get away from here.” You ordered Jackson.

“No. I am staying here to fight—“

Guiren grabbed Jackson by the arm and dragged him away despite his fervent protests. “The Ghost is right, your majesty. We need to get you to safety.”

You dipped your head to Guiren and offered Jackson a sliver of a smile in hopes of easing his worried stance. You turned your full attention to your opponents who had already drawn their swords and made a quick analysis of the situation. It was highly unlikely you would come off victorious.

You braced yourself for your attackers, managing to swiftly dodge the first swing of a sword. You twirled your body from between them and leaned to the side to parry the other sword with your knife. You kicked the attacker’s hand and threw him off balance. The sword flew out of his hand and you knelt down to grab it, scarcely escaping a deadly blow that still cut deeply into your thigh. You sloppily threw your knife to one of them and he caught it in his hand because of thick layered armor.

The rowdy noise of the guards coming made the assassins give up on your fight and run away. You didn’t have enough time to follow their example and were surrounded by the soldiers. The sword made a sharp sound as it bounced off the ground, your hands raised to either side of your head to signal your surrender. One of the guards stepped on the fresh wound in your thigh and a horrid screech evaded from the depth of your chest. You were prompted up forcefully, your master watching the scene helplessly. You signaled him silently to walk away as they dragged you to their prison.

The dungeon was hauntingly silent as Jackson dashed through the murky hallways to where Guiren told him you were brought. The Colonel was following close behind him to supervise his actions and put a halt to any premature decisions. Hope flickered in his heart at the silence, wishing they hadn’t started torturing you. Jackson was stupefied to see your standing body tied in rusty chains by either wrist, your skin colored purple from the hits you took and various fresh cuts dug into your flesh.

At a closer look, the Treasurer had a dagger in his hand, your blood dripping relentlessly from its blade. The King and another two soldiers were watching intently and the Treasurer forced the dagger into your collarbone, eliciting a mere groan from you. Your lack of displayed discomfort irritated him.

“This is for my brother, you bitch!” He took a full swing at your stomach and you spat the pool of blood in your mouth on his clothes in response. Guiren had to hold Jackson with both hands to restrain him.

The King rose his hand in the air to stop his Treasurer from sticking the blade into your throat. The King stepped closer to you and one of the soldiers grabbed you by the hair to force you to look at him. The pain was rapidly getting unbearable and you felt lightheaded. It took every ounce of effort to keep yourself awake.

“Are you The Masked Ghost, child?”

You remained silent at his question and the same soldier kicked you in the small of your back. You let go of the chains you had been holding on and felt your body leaning forward. “Answer the King!”

You lifted your eyes and caught Jackson’s frame staring at you with his mouth slightly agape and his fists clenched. The look of despair on his face would be etched in your senses for as long as you had left to live. You wanted him to rush out of there.

“I will show you what it means to threaten the royal council and its King.”

The Treasurer took off his overcoat and moved quickly to remove his sash and overskirt. The next thing that would follow would be him raping you and you hoped from the bottom of your heart Jackson would walk away before it was too late.

“Is this the kind of King you want to be, your majesty?” you groaned in a weak tone, your eyes fixated on Jackson’s numb frame. The King turned to his son with interest imprinted on his features.

But you were right. Jackson was set to become King of the Empire in a matter of hours and having his prisoners abused without a proper trial was only a fraction of the laws everyone was so casually stepping upon. Seeing you so stubbornly refusing to satisfy their desires of hearing you beg and cry for your life after they butchered your body so carelessly broke Jackson’s heart. But more than anything, it showed him how much of a coward he was.

“Stop.” Jackson stepped forward, much to the disapproval of the Treasurer.

“Prince? Allow me to teach this whore a lesson—“

“I think I told you to stop. Did I stutter?”

You had never thought Jackson capable of owning such a caustic glint in his eyes. You noticed his breathing was uneven as if he was struggling to contain himself. “Walk away from the prisoner at once. She thought she saved my life; should I not be the one to offer my gratitude?”

The Treasurer bowed his head and stepped back, dressing himself. The King noticed the change of behavior and pondered over its meaning. Earlier that day, he had received a set of papers anonymously, incriminating the Treasurer and his family for high treason. It didn’t seem too credible back then.

“Guards, take the Treasurer to a cell in the upper level. Make sure he gets comfortable.”

The guards did not hesitate to take the man away in a torrent of questions and pleadings.

“The girl shall be executed tomorrow as an offering to the new King.”

Jackson turned to his father abruptly. “Father—“

The King stopped by Jackson’s side, his eyes facing forward. “This decision belongs to me. It is up to you however you choose to carry it or not. If this girl here is the Ghost and you had been seeing her, this is a difficult decision you have to make. But she stays in the cell and that is not debatable. Guiren, please make sure the Prince does not make any hasty decisions.”

Guiren bowed to the King and then came closer to see you. “Nice to finally meet you, Ghost.”

“Don’t make me spit in your face too.” You moaned, taking a harsh hold of the chains. You assumed you had a couple of broken ribs and most likely damaged kidneys from the kick in your back. “Leave me be.”

Jackson couldn’t bear to look at you. He fantasized about holding the love of his life in his protective arms, worshipping her body with every tender touch ghosting over her skin, not chained up like a wild animal, carved open barbarically. You were so divinely beautiful but so devilishly destroyed by the primitive hands of men. Someone like you was meant to be glorified. And those eyes, those amber eyes that gnawed at Jackson’s existence.

“Let us go, Colonel.” Jackson spoke absentmindedly and you watched his back as he walked away. You could finally let out the sobs and the tears welling up in your eyes.

The next morning you were brought to the inside yard of the palace where the ceremony of ascension would take place. You were forced back into your senses after a bucket of icy water was thrown on your numb body; it washed some of the dirt on your figure but you were sure you looked beyond pitiful. You were dragged in front of the officials who took your time to spit on you and address you pieces of their minds. You were thrown to the middle of the area, on your knees, and were tied mercilessly like the lowest scum on Earth. You laughed to yourself. You had never foreseen such a pathetic ending for the Ghost. And you knew no one was foolish enough to come for you. The security was too tight.

The ceremony was beautiful. A zealous round of applause welcomed Prince Jackson as he stepped among his followers. You lifted your head to look at him. He was dressed in a carefully crafted traditional attire, befitting of a King. The details embroidered on the silk were unlike any you had ever seen, complementing the colors in an imposing image. Jackson’s face was implacable and his every gesture was calm and accentuated. You smiled and looked up to the sky. It was painted a serene blue.

You felt your conscience slowly drifting away. Everything surrounding you became a vibrant buzzing. You didn’t know when the religious part of the ceremony passed, or when Jackson made his oath as King, but you didn’t need to. Getting to know Jackson over the past month would seem a trivial matter, yet you felt as if you had known him forever ago. You regretted having so little time to spend with him. You wondered how he saw you beyond your shell, how he saw you talking with your body and with your words. You wondered if he could read all of the truth in your nature. You wondered if you were the only one knowing that your soul and his soul have met many years ago and have been old friends.

A tear traversed your cheek. It was the first time you envied the Gods for their immortality. But wasn’t that the crimson beauty of a human life? Would you ask to be anything else? Would you rather suffer losing everything you loved best in the world day after day rather than having it slip from your fingers once and then never again?

You felt powerful arms lifting you from the ground. It must have been time for your sentence.

You rose your head from the ground and saw Jackson walking over to you in a slow, agonizing manner. The crown on his head suited him well. You were shoved to the side, near what you figured would be your execution spot. Jackson stopped a couple of steps away from you and you made eye contact with him. You couldn’t read him.

“This woman shall not be executed today, not ever. No one dares lay a finger on her without my permission.”

One of the Ministers questioned King Jackson’s words. “Your Majesty, she killed a high official last night! She deserves to die.”

“Do you defy my words?” Jackson didn’t even bother glancing in his direction.

“Your Majesty, we have reports she might be The Masked Ghost, cold-blooded murderer of the royals and high clerks—“

Jackson made a dismissive gesture with his hand and the courageous minster was brought forth. “Behead him.”

“Your Majesty—“

You couldn’t believe your ears. It was clear you weren’t in your right mind and you must have died in the dungeon, your body probably rotting in a canal. You dug your nails into the palm of your hand to identify if your sensorial perception was still functioning. You were convinced of it when the former Minister’s head rolled on the concrete at your feet. Jackson didn’t even flinch.

“And while we are discussing the matter, there is no available proof that this woman is the Ghost.”

The Treasurer stepped out of line. “Your Majesty, she killed my brother! You cannot let her live.”

“Bring the Treasurer over here too. His punishment will be death by a hundred cuts.”

The crowd started murmuring among themselves. Jackson took out a piece of paper from his robe and showed it to the public. It was the report your guild sent to the previous King, signed and approved while he was in active duty. “You are hereby charged with high treason for abuse of power and threatening the life of the King.”

The Treasurer was taken away under the terrified eyes of the crowd. You looked over to the previous King and you could swear you detected pride on his features.

“Let this be a lesson for anyone who dares to cross me. Starting with this moment, every high ranked official and clerk will be under my strict supervision and any form of breaking the law, no matter how mild and no matter the position in the country will be punished by death.”

Jackson extended his hand to run his thumb over your bruised cheek. “Excepting her. She is my woman.”

Silence fell over the yard before it burst in a storm of cheers. ‘Long live the King’ resounded deep into the Empire. You heard Jackson giving instructions to his servants to bring you to his room and summon all the talented healers of the Empire to check on your condition. He gave you one last soft look before he left to salute the people of the empire outside of the palace court.

You were untied and you would have fallen to the ground if a pair of gentle arms hadn’t caught you. You opened your eyes to see Guiren supporting your weight before lifting you in his arms to carry you inside the palace.

“Guiren…”

“Don’t worry. You will be okay…” he paused and pursed his lips in a cheeky smirk “Your Majesty.”

“What just happened?” you let out a low groan, every cut in your body burning. “Shouldn’t you follow him?”

“See, I do not know what happened because this is a side of Jackson I had never seen before, but one I greatly look forward to.”

You noticed Guiren did not talk hollowly, addressing Jackson as a royal, but rather with a never-ending amount of respect as a confidant, a friend and as King. “He explicitly ordered me to stay by your side and make sure you are offered whatever you need. He would have made sure of that himself but you know, duty cannot wait.”

Guiren put you down on a stool outside what you gathered to be the bath. He talked indistinctively with an old servant, instructing her on how to clean your wounds and what kind of ointment to use as a first-aid measure. He then knelt down to your level.

“I will be outside should there be anything you dislike or want. Don’t hesitate to call me, your majesty.”

“Stop calling me that.” You nodded your head at him and allowed yourself to be carried by the young women inside the bath. Guiren laughed. “I wouldn’t if I knew your name.”

You had never been so pampered in your entire life. There were at least a dozen women constantly crowding around you, taking turns to provide any comfort necessary. Five young servants attended to your body, along with the head servant, who helped clean you thoroughly, after which she followed Guiren’s instructions devotedly. None of them said any words to you and you stayed in a mortifying silence. You took some initiatives to do things yourself but every time you did, you were met by an oppressive stare from the head servant.

The young girls dried your body with soft linen and the senior made a gesture for the tailors to come in with a large selection of fine dresses. Your ears were red from embarrassment but as you saw no window for escape, you chose a simple burgundy one, in case your wounds might open up again. After that, you were carried to King Jackson’s royal chamber and tucked in his bed successfully. You let out a long moan at the softness of the bed and you witnessed the servants panic collectively.

“It is fine.” You assured them and turned to the head servant. “Would it be possible to leave me rest for the time being? I am very tired.”

She looked at you and sighed. “If that is your wish, your majesty. I shall call the healers at a later time, then.”

You would have protested at the tittle everyone nonchalantly addressed you by. You hated being treated as a superior human being, just as you heard the title so carelessly abused in the past by the upper class. However, your eyelids were heavy and you couldn’t explore the subjects any further as you fell into a deep slumber.

You had no idea how much time passed while you slept. You wrinkled your forehead and opened your eyes, an unknown source of warmth enveloping your hand. You tilted your head on the pillow and found Jackson sitting on the edge of the bed, both his hands holding your small one. He was not dressed in his distinctive royal attire anymore but in a casual black and golden outfit.

“How much did I sleep?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

You sighed and tried sitting up. Jackson rushed to help you and put all the existing pillows to your back to support your body. Your damaged shoulder was still stinging in pain.

“I understand the healers have yet to examine you.” Jackson spoke softly, worried by the unpleasant expression on your face. “Should I summon them?”

You were taught by your guild how to determine the condition of your body after a fight and you normally would not need any help in doing so. The torture you underwent left you with a big question mark in your mind, however. You nodded your head and Jackson called for the healers. Most of your own predictions were accurate. You had three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone, but your kidneys did not show any sign of failure for the time being and your wounds were skillfully mended to before they infected. All of them commented on the excellent build of your body and estimated a speedy recovery.

One of the healers handed Jackson a list of herbs and ointments you would have to use, along with a proper diet to ensure the building of anatomic tissue. You thanked all of them kindly as they went their way then turned to Jackson who visibly relaxed.

“Thank God.” He sighed. “Should I call for a meal? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t think I can eat.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Why did you spare my life? You should have let me die.”

There was a grim feeling that engulfed Jackson’s entire body at your words. He looked at you with the softest eyes you had ever seen and sighed deeply. “Stop saying such hurtful things.”

“It’s the truth. I am The Ghost—“

“I love you.”

You were perplexed by his words. The heart in your chest reacted instantly, hammering so uncontrollably fierce. “I knew ever since our first encounter that I’ve loved you, dear hell, even before that I am sure. I just knew. You captivated me with every little thing that you would do. I would have traded my life to know the real you that you refused so adamantly to show me. It was especially hard that night on the plain. I chose to respect your wish that you just might not want me the way I desired you.”

Tears were threatening to fall from Jackson’s eyes. “You appeared at the banquet and I swear I could have never mistaken you. And you were just…just perfect. I wanted you to be my Queen. It had to be you and no one else. It occurred to me I had been waiting for you my entire life and now I know why. The entire Universe conspired to help me find you.”

You started crying before you knew it. You were sobbing quietly, the droplets falling from your eyes with comfortable ease. Jackson was smiling through his own tears as well, taking your face in his hands to wipe away your sadness. “I knew you were lying to me. These beautiful amber eyes sold you out.”

Jackson wrapped his arms around you protectively, ever so gentle as to not hurt you. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and cried peacefully. Every tear shed felt like medicine; you were so content with not having to hide anymore that you could not stop until you had no more tears left to cry.

“I am so sorry, Jackson. I am sorry. I love you too, so much.”

Jackson caressed your hair, curling his fingers through its softness. He pulled back to kiss the crown of your head. “I fell in love with a woman whose name I do not know. And I greatly wish to call you by your name.”

You nodded softly and leaned into his chest. The sound of his heart beating was so calm. “Y/n. Y/n, L/n. Also professionally known as The Masked Ghost.”

“Y/n…” he repeated quietly and all of a sudden your heart calmed down to Jackson’s own rhythm. Him calling your name felt immensely right, a harmonious sound that no other living creature could reproduce. You realized what was missing from you; it was the same person you kept on denying, the only one who was worthy of calling you by your name. It came as a revelation that you and Jackson have been destined to find each other, destined to do great things together.

“Say, Jackson.” He pulled back, placing you down gently back on the pillows. “Why is everyone calling me ‘your majesty’?”

“Oh, that.” Jackson chuckled and got out of bed to put out some of the candles. “I think that because I endearingly called you ‘my woman’…things happened.”

You blinked a couple of times to accommodate yourself to the lack of light. “I might need some time to adjust to that.”

Jackson climbed in beside you pulling the covers over you. You felt him hesitate. “What do you mean by that?”

“Am I not your woman?”

You couldn’t see him but you knew he breathed in a smile. “Does that mean you will stay?”

Jackson helped you lower your body to the mattress and shifted on his side to face you. He was fighting a difficult battle with his urge to pull you to him and kiss every part of your body but he settled to just listening to your voice. For your own sake.

“I wish to continue my activity as the Ghost. Even if you reform the aristocratic class, there will still be criminals and thieves on the loose. People cannot conquer them on their own.”

Jackson agreed. “I figured you would say this. There is no one in the Empire besides me and Guiren who know you are the Ghost. I told a very convincing story to the Council.”

“So you do not want me to cease my activity?”

“How could I forbid you a part of who you are?”

Your hand found his and gave it a small squeeze. Jackson brought your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I need the Ghost to lead the Empire. I need her knowledge and her skills and the faith she gives people. I originally wanted to convince the Ghost to be my partner, until she decided it willingly. And I know better than to anger you.”

You giggled. “I promise I will teach you everything I know. I think I still have a duty to pay with the sabre.”

“Oh, talking about gifts, I almost forgot.”

You watched Jackson curiously as he draped his arm to the table by the bed, pulling its drawer. He took out a small wooden box. “Open it.”

You took the box in your hands and opened it to reveal a refined brooch. You recognized the design; you wanted to buy it personally from the foreign merchant but it had been promised to the royal family. You smiled widely. “Thank you, Jackson. I actually wanted to have it for myself and I was so disappointed to hear it was a lost cause.”

“My father gave it to me saying I should give it to the woman I picked at the banquet. I think that woman picked me, instead.”

Jackson smiled at the sight of the pink hue on your cheeks. He put the box back into the drawer and nested himself beside you, not letting go of your hand. “Tell me another story.”

You hummed and relaxed your body. His hand in yours was anchoring you to reality. A heavenly reality. You would have to learn to adapt to the royal life but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make for those you swore to protect when you put on the mask. You would have to settle your affairs with the guild and show them the new path you were forging, reassure them and the folk The Masked Ghost was still a servant of the people. But you had a good partner walking by your side every step of the way.

“Allow me to tell your majesty the tale of The Masked Ghost.”

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 imagine #got7 jackson #got7 jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang au #kpop au #idol au #emperor au #also happy birthday our dear king #consider this a present for his majesty

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