Prostrate To The Monarch (Taekook)
"Seeds of Hatred"
In the grand tapestry of life, a mother emerges as the fiercest protector for her child. She is a warrior willing to set the world ablaze and bathe in its ashes if it secures her child's safety.
No poison is too bitter for her to swallow if it brings joy to her child. She finds solace in dancing amidst her own ruins as long as her child is content.
Discipline may manifest as a slap, but any hand raised against her child faces her unyielding resistance.
While a child may sometimes forget to care for their mother, a true mother never forgets her duty. Through sickness and bedridden days, she rushes to her child's aid at the first call of pain.
Yet, not every woman who gives birth embodies the essence of motherhood. Throughout history, women have been portrayed in various forms, but their highest value is often seen in the role of a mother.
However, as I mentioned, not every woman can fulfill this sacred role.
‘She’, too, is not his mother. ‘She’ could never be.
Prince Yongwang’s heart knew no villainy; his desire was not the throne of a king but love and care at seventeen.
Cruelty transformed him from a seeker of peace into a reluctant monster, thrüst into a deadly game against his will. The throne was never his choice; circumstances forced him into a life he never sought.
All he yearned for was a tranquil existence, a wish denied by those who surrounded him.
He couldn't blame others when his own birth mother snatched away the innocent smile he longed for. His own mother, the architect of his lost childhood, propelled him towards death.
At just seventeen, a fragile age, she attempted every means to end his life. His mother, in the truest sense, proved to be a harvester of cruelty.
She orchestrated a symphony of pain, stealing his childhood innocence and guiding him toward the brink of death. Her attempts to extinguish his life at the tender age of seventeen echoed the profound betrayal of maternal love.
Yet, amidst the shadows of maternal malevolence, a beacon of solace emerged. A woman, not bound by blood but by a shared understanding of the human spirit, became the sanctuary he desperately sought.
In her comforting embrace, he found the warmth he yearned for, the love that eluded him in the twisted arms of his birth mother.
This woman, though never officially bestowed with the title, became the guardian of his heart, the one he silently referred to as his mother.
The word may have never slipped from his lips, but in the chambers of his heart, she held the sacred place reserved for those who provide solace and genuine affection.
Despite the scars left by his birth mother's cruelty, he discovered a semblance of peace in the unspoken bond with this compassionate soul, a bond stronger than blood ties could ever be.
The woman, the solace in his tumultuous existence, became another victim of his mother's cruelty.
The echoes of every latch in the room resonated with Yongwang’s screams, a desperate symphony of resistance against the forces that bound him.
His feeble attempts to break free from the soldiers who served his mother, the queen, proved futile. Weakness gripped him, rendering him powerless against the injustice unfolding before his eyes.
Lady Kang, the woman he held close to his heart as a mother, bore the brunt of his birth mother's wrath. Each lash inflicted upon her was a searing pain etched into Yongwang’s soul.
His heart screamed in silent agony as he witnessed the relentless flogging, an act that shredded the fragile peace he had found in Lady Kang's embrace.
The room, once a sanctuary, transformed into a chamber of anguish, resonating with the sounds of pain and despair.
Yongwang’s heart wrenched with each strike, his helplessness amplifying the torment.
In the clutches of his mother's soldiers, he could do nothing but endure the heart-wrenching spectacle, a cruel reminder that even the solace he discovered could be brutally snatched away by the one who gave him life.
He pleaded, tears streaming down his face, a river of anguish not just for himself but for Lady Kang as well.
Her eyes met his with a gaze full of care and affection, transcending the physical pain she endured.
Lady Kang's heart ached not for the lashes upon her own body but for the prince she nurtured like a delicate feather, now held brutally by his mother's soldiers.
A seed of hatred took root within Prince Yongwang's heart, nourished by each cruel strike inflicted upon Lady Kang.
With every whip that marked her body, a corresponding lash imprinted itself in his soul.
His eyes, once filled with innocence, now darkened as a malevolent force gestated within him.
The monster growing in his heart was not one born out of innate wickedness, but a consequence of the cruelty he witnessed and the pain he felt for the woman he considered his true mother.
The echoes of Lady Kang's suffering reverberated within him, forging a connection between the physical torment she endured and the burgeoning darkness in his own heart.
"Crimson Coronation"
In the majestic courtyard of the ancient Korean palace, a hallowed ground resonated with the footsteps of dignitaries and the whispers of history.
The air was thick with anticipation as the sun cast a golden glow upon the proceedings. The traditional coronation ceremony, steeped in royal legacy, was about to unfold.
The soon-to-be monarch, clad in resplendent ceremonial attire, stood with grace and humility.
Attendants, draped in intricately embroidered garments, surrounded the central figure, creating a tableau of regal magnificence.
The ceremony commenced with a solemn purification ritual. The monarch-to-be, barefoot, approached a sacred basin filled with clear water, signifying purity and cleansing.
Each measured step spoke of reverence for tradition and a commitment to lead with a virtuous heart.
Next, ancestral rites took center stage. The monarch, now anointed with the essence of tradition, paid homage to predecessors.
Burning incense wafted through the air, carrying prayers for guidance and wisdom from the spirits of past rulers.
The symbolic presentation of the royal robes followed—a moment of profound significance.
As the monarch donned the ornate garments, each layer bestowed upon them a mantle of responsibility and duty to the people.
Amidst the ceremonial music played by skilled court musicians, a senior statesman approached, bearing the sacred sword, a symbol of the monarch's authority.
The sword was presented with utmost reverence, emphasizing the gravity of the role the monarch was destined to fulfill.
An ancestral seal, bearing the insignia of the royal lineage, was then entrusted to the newly crowned sovereign.
The act symbolized the continuity of the dynasty, an unbroken chain connecting past, present, and future.
The grandeur of the ceremony reached its pinnacle with the monarch ascending the ceremonial throne.
In this moment, the weight of history and the expectations of an entire kingdom rested upon their shoulders.
Court officials, scholars, and nobles offered symbolic tokens of allegiance, pledging loyalty to the newly crowned ruler.
As the ceremony drew to a close, the air echoed with cheers and the beating of ceremonial drums.
The monarch, now officially crowned, stood as a living embodiment of tradition and a beacon of hope for a prosperous reign.
The ancient Korean royal coronation ceremony concluded, leaving an indelible mark on the pages of history—a testament to the enduring legacy of a kingdom bound by time-honored customs and the promise of a ruler ready to embrace their destiny.
While the coronation ceremony unfolded joyfully around the palace, Prince Yongwang knelt in his pavilion, a stark contrast to the festive atmosphere.
His body was a canvas painted with the blood of soldiers who had sought his demise.
The pavilion bore witness to a gruesome tableau of battle, walls stained crimson, a testament to the violent clash that had occurred within.
Amidst the carnage, Yongwang cradled Lady Kang's lifeless head on his lap. Her cold, still body sent shivers down his spine, a haunting reminder of the sacrifice she made to protect him.
Yongwang
Let me take you to the royal doctor.
He whispered, attempting to lift her, but she gently restrained him. Lady Kang, with difficulty, raised her hand to caress his blood-covered face.
She spoke, each word an effort accompanied by labored breaths. She shook her head, a silent plea for him to understand. As she did, blood spilled from her mouth.
Yongwang
Don't speak. Let me just take you to the royal doctor.
Yongwang cried out, his heart gripped by pain and sorrow. He blamed himself, knowing that her fatal injuries were a consequence of his lack of caution.
She had shielded him with her life, and now he grappled with the weight of that sacrifice.
Despite Yongwang's desperate pleas, Lady Kang's weakening voice resonated with determination.
She whispered, her hand trembling as it continued to trace the contours of his face.
Her eyes conveyed a profound sadness and a tenderness that transcended the physical pain she endured.
Lady Kang
I chose this path willingly.
Lady Kang managed to utter between labored breaths, her gaze unwavering.
Lady Kang
Your safety... is all that mattered.
The words hung heavy in the air, a testament to her unwavering loyalty and the depth of her sacrifice.
Yongwang's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he cradled her fading form.
Yongwang
I can't lose you.
He pleaded, the weight of guilt and sorrow etched on his face.
Lady Kang's lips curled into a faint, reassuring smile.
Lady Kang
You won't lose me, your highness. I will always be with you, guiding and protecting.
Her voice grew softer, the vitality slipping away.
Lady Kang
Remember... the strength within.
As her breaths slowed, Lady Kang's hand slipped from Yongwang's face. His anguished cry echoed through the pavilion, mingling with the distant sounds of the coronation celebration.
The juxtaposition of joy and grief created an eerie harmony, marking the end of Lady Kang's valiant journey.
In the midst of the royal spectacle, Prince Yongwang cradled the lifeless body of the woman who had become his mother in heart, her sacrifice eternally woven into the fabric of his destiny.
The coronation bells tolled, but in the quiet corner of grief, a different resonance lingered—the echo of a woman's unwavering love and a prince forever changed.
"The Throne's Reckoning" —1
The grand hall pulsated with celebration as the newly crowned emperor, flanked by his queen mother, ministers, generals, chiefs, and high-ranked army men, reveled in the glory of the coronation.
The air was thick with merriment, laughter, and the clinking of goblets, while dancers swirled in graceful patterns, entertaining the jubilant assembly.
Maids moved gracefully among the revelers, serving drinks and ensuring the festivities flowed seamlessly.
However, in the midst of the revelry, a darker undercurrent simmered.
Some perverted generals, chiefs, and ministers took advantage of the chaotic atmosphere, inappropriately touching the maids who served them.
The room was clouded by the heady mix of power, intoxication, and disregard for decency.
Yet, as the saying goes, karma is both a lovely friend and a fearsome foe. They had forgotten this simple truth.
The revelry came to an abrupt halt when a maid's scream pierced the air. All eyes turned to her, and then followed her terrified gaze.
A gravely injured soldier, covered in blood, stumbled into the hall. The celebrants, momentarily shaken from their intoxicated stupor, rose from their seats.
"He—he... a monster!" the soldier stammered, terror evident in his eyes.
He attempted to explain, but his words devolved into incoherent babbling. Pointing frantically toward the entrance, he tried to convey the imminent danger.
Before he could reveal more, a sword cruelly pierced through his heart, silencing him.
The hall fell into a shocked silence, interrupted only by the gasps of those who witnessed the gruesome scene.
The once vibrant celebration now teetered on the edge of chaos, the air thick with a sense of impending doom.
As the realization dawned that a genuine threat loomed, the revelers exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier indiscretions forgotten in the face of an unknown peril.
Prince Yongwang, the sixth prince, strode down the entrance with a haunting presence, a vision of vengeance personified.
His once regal attire was now soaked in blood, a stark contrast to the crimson-stained golden handle of the sword he dragged against the cold stone floor.
The very air seemed to thicken with the weight of his malevolence.
His eyes, once innocent, now harbored a darkness that sent shivers through the spines of all who met his gaze.
Revenge had sculpted him into an embodiment of evil, a devil unleashed upon the revelers.
The hall fell into an eerie hush as his predatory gaze scanned the assembly, from the emperor to the trembling maids.
The queen mother, ministers, generals, chiefs, and high-ranked army men, who moments ago reveled in the emperor's coronation, now stood frozen in terror.
The once-celebratory atmosphere now transformed into a theater of fear, where the powerful and the corrupted faced a reckoning.
A deadly silence lingered as Prince Yongwang, bathed in the ominous glow of revenge, prepared to confront those who had wronged him and those he had sworn to protect.
The golden handle of his sword, now a symbol of retribution, cast an ominous reflection in the flickering torchlight.
Karma, the loveliest friend, and the most evil enemy, had arrived with a face—Prince Yongwang, the harbinger of justice or, perhaps, a descent into darkness.
The hall awaited the unfolding of a reckoning that would redefine the balance of power in the Korean ancient royal palace.
In a desperate bid to quell the impending threat, an army general lunged at Prince Yongwang, his sword poised for an attack.
Yet, before the edge of his blade could even graze the prince, Yongwang's response was swift and lethal.
In a single fluid movement, he deflected the impending strike and, with chilling precision, drove his own sword through the heart of the aggressor.
The clash was both silent and brutal, the metallic tang of blood punctuating the air. The fallen general crumpled to the ground, a testament to the newfound strength and ferocity residing within Prince Yongwang.
The once-innocent prince had metamorphosed into a force to be reckoned with, and the hall trembled with the realization that a reckoning had truly begun.
As the lifeless body of the general lay at Yongwang's feet, a hushed tension permeated the hall.
The emperor, the queen mother, ministers, generals, chiefs, and high-ranked army men, who had reveled in their power just moments ago, now stood as witnesses to the awakening of a formidable adversary.
Prince Yongwang, his sword still glistening with the blood of his foes, surveyed the trembling assembly with a chilling calm.
The dance of fear and anticipation played out in the eyes of those who dared to meet his gaze.
The golden handle of his crimson-stained sword seemed to pulse with the weight of justice, a justice that demanded retribution for the atrocities committed against him and those he cherished.
In that charged moment, the fate of the royal court hung in the balance, as Prince Yongwang, now a harbinger of both doom and justice, prepared to mete out the consequences of their actions.
The once-celebratory hall had transformed into a battleground, and the karma they had ignored had manifested in the form of a vengeful prince.
Download MangaToon APP on App Store and Google Play
