In the cold chill of a not so special autumn night, yet another small step was taken by a once fragile princess and another splinter of fear wedged itself even deeper into a warrior's heart. Oneshot, Hak centric.

Spoilers for post anime, up to the Awa Arc in manga.

A/N: I'm back and with a new obsession. I stumbled across AnY and 6 measly episodes of the anime was nowhere near enough to fill the new need of mine so I quickly found the manga and after reading about Yona's wish to learn how to fight and her desperate wish to become 'better', this small one shot was born. I hope you all will enjoy it and any thoughts on the matter are always welcome : ).

Ps, I was not sure if Japan had pheasants, so I googled it, and yes they do!

oh, and this should go without saying, but I clearly don't own the Akatsuki no Yona universe or any of its inhabitants.

She was convinced they were all asleep.

He was wide awake.

She had moved away a few hundred meters or so not to bother her sleeping comrades while she slowly pealed the bark of the nearest tree with the sharp arrows she repeatedly sent towards an old pine. She knew she should not stray too far from the others but she could still see them clearly in the weak moonlight softly illuminating the grassy field and faintly glittering in the thin river they had set camp at earlier that night. Previous experiences had taught her the best distance for her to stay within eyesight, but so close enough that the subdued, repeated thudding sounds the arrows made when hitting the rough bark would raise her exhausted friends from their well needed rest.

He could never rest when she went on her nightly training sessions.

He hated them.

He respected her wish to become independent. Hell, he could even sympathise with her desperate need to become stronger to some degree but it was not enough to stop him from feeling guilty and conflicted about it. It was his fault that she felt she had to become stronger. She should not have to feel that way. He was supposed to protect her from anything that could harm her and he had failed. He was meant to be her human shield, covering her from everything evil in this world and yet he had still allowed her to be hurt by not being there for her in the moment she needed him the most.

The guilt was always there, nagging, mocking, and torturing him in the silent darkness of the night.

If he would have been more alert, not so trusting, or even just a few minutes quicker in the uptake of what was happening in the castle. Then she would never have had to endure any of this, the cold, the pain, the hunger, the betrayal…

If he had not been so god damn trusting she would still live her life as the air headed, radiant, young princess she was meant to be. She would have beautiful dresses and all the sweets she could eat.

She would still have her father.

The kind king Il's death haunted Hak's guilty consciousness, mocking him while he tried to rest leaning against the rots of an old, prickled pine tree and staring up into the starlight sky above him.

Soo-won, you asshole, how could you?

The tall, dark-haired warrior sighed to himself and quietly got up. He was still not completely comfortable with not having her within eyesight every second and even though he knew she would not stray too far away from the camp he deemed it pretty pointless in him sitting there staring into nothing if he was not going to get any sleep anyhow.

He moved closer to the young red-haired princess, quietly not to disturb her. He did not feel like making himself known to her out of respect for her obvious will to train with the bow in seclusion. As he walked closer, the whistling sounds the bow let out when releasing its deadly cargo grew stronger and together with the low thuds the arrow created upon impact with the trunk of the old pine, which creaked in protest was more than enough for Hak to orient himself towards the young girl in the weak moonlight of the night.

Not wanting to disturb her, he stopped before she would notice him and took protection in the shadow of a nearby tree, his dark clothing and hair melting in with his surroundings, camouflaging him and allowing him to watch her as she shoot one arrow after the other, sporting the determined, concentrated look on her face he had come to recognise as her training face, the one that expressed her deep desire to excel.

He could spend the entire night watching her. She was perfection. Her whole being radiated capability, power and an unmatched delicacy, all at the same time. Logic stated it to be an impossible combination but somehow, on her, it felt completely natural. But then again, when-ever the princess was involved logic usually flew out the window quicker than he could grasp. Not that he had not tried, he fought and argued those irrational feelings on a daily basis, and yet he felt it was a losing battle: when she smiled at him she chipped away on his carefully moulded defences without even knowing it.

When the young princess sighed to herself and sat down to rest for a little while, he could see perspiration dancing on her small forehead and reflect the pale moonlight. He frowned at that and made a mental note of lecturing her in the morning about wearing oneself out but was stopped in his train of thoughts by something catching his attention in the corner of his eye. Out of the bushes next to him a portly pheasant stepped out, picking its way through the thin vegetation in search for the last seeds of the season and whatever bugs he could find and Hak could see that she had noticed the fat bird with the shimmering green feathers and bright red crown too.

She reached out and grabbed her bow again, painfully slow not to disturb the un-aware bird and frighten the winged creature into a premature flight and even slower let the arrow meet the dark wood before raising it and stretching the thin thread as far as she could.

She aimed and held the weapon in the air for several seconds. Not moving a muscle, not releasing the arrow but not putting the bow down either.

The world could have ended around them and Hak would not have known, or cared for that matter.

He could see the thin layer of sweat glisten on her delicate forehead and her small frame trembling slightly with the effort of holding the arrow absolutely still while the seconds ticked away.

Then she lowered the bow slightly and he sighed to himself. She was still not ready.

And then in one swift movement the red-haired princess lifted the bow again, aimed and sent the deadly weapon flying through the air towards the unsuspecting bird. Bull's eye, the arrow drilled itself deep into the flesh. Blood splattered and feathers filled the air around the pheasant and one single screeching cry ripped the previous silence into pieces before petering out into the night and everything went quiet again.

And Hak felt like the arrow ran straight through his heart.

She had once fired an arrow against another human being. To protect her friends, he knew she would do anything, but killing an innocent animal was a step she had not yet taken before tonight. It was one more step towards independency and her new-found strength, and a further step away from the fragile princess he had been unable to protect from the horrors of death and betrayal that faithful night, all those months ago.

He both cherished her growing strength, physical as well as mental, and hated it at the same time.

He feared it. He feared that she would grow more and more independent, and rather than relying on him, relying on her own capabilities, and that they one day would falter her.

He knew it was selfish of him but he preferred it was him who would be in the front line of every danger that could ever rear its ugly head towards the princess; he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Nothing was more important than protecting her. His own life was of no value and could be easily discharged when deemed needless and a part of him feared that her growing self-confidence would put her, rather than him in arms reach of danger one day.

That night another step was taken.

And yet another splinter of fear wedged itself into a warrior's heart.