Sakura_Charmash

First born princess of Goryeo is promised to Silla in marriage. What has begun as a promise between families becomes a pact sealed in blood when her betrothed is mysteriously killed. Now what binds Seol, the lady Ha In of Goryeo to Silla is a blood debt – to turn away from it would be to topple the country into irreparable chaos.
Yet, her heart lies with another.
Raised from obscurity of illegitimacy, fate of concubine - born last son of northern Kang clan rests on the emperor’s grace. However, being tasked with the guardianship of the imperial princess is the last of his worries. In the whirlwind of emotions that she brings along, it is not just his title that is at stake, but his heart and a secret that he had brought from a grave of a different time.
Theirs is a fate from an age gone by, but a love impossible to attain. Theirs is a story written upon dying stars.
***
From inside: 
The snow caressed him in a way she yearned to; fluttering against his lashes, tangled up in his hair. She has always felt home in north, in the valleys that filled themselves with her namesake and with this man beside he, arrows slung over his shoulder and laughter in his eyes. Silla and her betrothed would never take that place.
Seol opens her mouth; it is now or never.
“Don’t say it,” he cuts her off, a hand stretched out for a lonely snowflake to perch upon. It turns translucent against his roughed palm.
“My hand isn’t made for snowflakes,” he sounds joyous, as he always does – when she is weeping within. His eyes remain resolutely elsewhere.
“I’ve been summoned to the garrison,” he continues in that same flat tone. “My last duty here will be to deliver your highness to your betrothed.”
She is unaware of the tear that has escaped, until an ice cold thumb brushes it off.
“Don’t cry,” he says then and she sees the laughing spark in his eyes for what it truly is; longing. “It breaks my heart.”
 ***

Snow n' Starlight

The green gray rain continues to fall, acidic in the core of every raindrop it falls with the charged power of his father's fury. His skin burns with it, with the sudden attack his father had launched upon him. Domirr revels in the fall of his only surviving firstborn son, lifting his foot to crush the fallen youth's cheek beneath his sole, pushing him further into the softened earth.

"How dare you?" He hisses in the dragon tongue, the words fumbling with venom. "How dare you – live?"

Spots of black and metallic green dances along the edges of Keirr's vision, the world sliding in and out of focus. The power of Domirr, much greater and much more demonic than his own, cultivated over a period of hundred years or more, burns him. That pain is only a phantom, a thought in his head created by the monster above him, the thought that poisons his head and turns his own body against him, burning, burning and more.

Tyrant's Memories