Sword and Flower: Episode 4

by HeadsNo2

This episode sunk its teeth into me and never let go, not even for a second, not even by the end of the hour. It’s everything I forgot I was missing in a sageuk—adventure, suspense, and the kind of heart that completely took me by surprise. Life and death stakes can have that effect on a love story, especially when they’re especially life-y and especially death-y. If that doesn’t make sense, blame the show. My nerves are still shot.

Oh and Uhmforce, dramaland missed you and the power of your smolder so, so, so much. Welcome back.

 
EPISODE 4 RECAP

After the king declares that his son will be executed, General Yeon shambles silently to his empty home while Choong spends the night in prison.

Mu-young struggles to reconcile the two sides of Choong she now knows—the side she fell in love with, and the side that lied to her and betrayed her. Eventually, she decides to go visit him in prison. Her freedom is still kind of blowing my mind.

Their eyes meet, and for a long while they’re silent as emotions threaten to come bubbling to the surface. Steeling herself, she says, “Do not expect forgiveness or kindness. I will not forgive you. I will not show any kindness to you. Do not expect that your head may be spared or that you may not be killed. Your head will be cut off, and you will die.”

Choong actually surprises me by being completely honest with her by explaining how he’d only ever lived to see his father after he and his mother were ignored as slaves, so he took the only opportunity he had in killing her attacker. “I didn’t have the reason or composure to consider whether it was right or wrong.”

There was nothing left for him after his father rejected him, so becoming a palace guard was Choong’s way to take his fate into his own hands and make something of himself. This is the first time we see how much that position meant to him, and it pulls at the heartstrings. Hers too, by the looks of it.

When she asks if he has any last words, Choong wonders, “Is fate really something you can’t escape from?” He tried to escape his fate as General Yeon’s illegitimate son, yet in the end, that’s the reason why he’s being executed.

“Aren’t you afraid of death?” she asks.

“I’ll be dying as my father’s son, so I have no regrets,” he answers. “Just that I ended up hurting your feelings after all your trust and support, even though it was not my intention, is unforgivable.” He means it and she knows it, which is why their eyes well up with tears. He never wanted to hurt her, but now it’s too late.

We finally see all the members of the secret group serving the king (the one responsible for saving Mu-young during the caravan attack), with the one member we know, Shi-woo, among them.

They’ve all just found out about Choong’s loathsome family ties, and Shi-woo shakes his head now that he realizes that the princess must have been caught by surprise, especially when she liked him. But the more pressing matter is Choong’s upcoming execution and how they must prepare for anything General Yeon might pull.

Leader SO SA-BUN (Kim Sang-ho) knows that the king is only punishing Choong and not his father because killing General Yeon would start a civil war—but killing Yeon’s son just sends a point. Don’t mess with the royal family.

The councilman responsible for the failed assassination apologizes to General Yeon, which means that Yeon wasn’t behind the plan. Yeon refrains from executing him this time, but warns that another reckless mistake will be the end of him.

Jang pays General Yeon a visit, and the two speak frankly about the situation with Choong. Yeon again comes to his son’s defense, not out of any sense of love I think, but only because it’s the truth: “If he were a spy, he wouldn’t have tried to save the lives of the princess and the prince.”

He knows that Choong thinks he instigated the plot and is keeping silent about it so as to protect him, even though he admits to a level-headed Jang that he wasn’t responsible. Moreover, since Jang is responsible for the royal family’s safety, his life will be in danger if he admits that there was an assassination attempt on his watch.

General Yeon then brings up Jang’s late father, the king’s brother, and how he could have become king if only he tried. He wonders why Jang is wasting his life as a palace guard: “You have mercy, but are not weak. You know pleasure, but are not given to it. You are the only member of the royal family in Goguryeo that has both literary and military skills. Only those who are qualified deserve to sit on the throne.”

Ah, so he’s trying to get Jang to turn against his uncle and take his place as king, a plot Jang refuses to hear more of. “Destiny is something you choose,” General Yeon calls after him. “I, at least, would never mock you.”

And as we see, General Yeon’s seed of usurpation is beginning to take root in Jang.

He tells Choong that he heard he saved the prince and princess from an assassination attempt and that if it’s true, he swears to save Choong’s life. In an effort to protect his father, Choong lies that there was no such attempt.

“He rejected you as a father,” Jang says. “Why are you still trying to protect him? Is it just the law of nature?” My question exactly.

Despite what Mu-young told Choong, she does forgive him and wants to save him, so she talks out some of her options with Jang. Except none of them will work.

Then she reveals that she feels responsible for his current plight—he came to the palace after cutting his family ties, but he wouldn’t have stayed if she hadn’t made him. “If only I hadn’t done that, this wouldn’t have happened. Everything is my fault, and there’s nothing I can do for him.”

Jang tells her the truth—that Choong saved her and her brother from assassination. (There’s so much honesty in this show. Am I in The Twilight Zone?) Mu-young is hopeful that this information will cause her father to spare him, but Jang reveals that the truth has repercussions, and that Choong hid it for his father. Though I think the bit he adds about Choong hiding it for national stability and her sake is a stretch.

Mu-young goes straight to her father with what she learned and asks that Choong be spared for saving their lives, but the king won’t open an investigation into the attempt so as not to provoke General Yeon further. His hope is to send him off to the Cheolli Jangseong, the fortifying wall to ward off the Tang, as quietly as possible to isolate him away from politics.

But it’s not like her father doesn’t have sound logic to defend his decision to execute Choong—no matter what he did afterward, he’s still a criminal for assassinating the man who attacked them.

Even though the king admits to knowing how fond she was of Choong, he can’t change his decision. Mu-young can’t help but cry, and when she pays a somber visit to Choong later, she almost leaves without saying a word. But a charged stare brings her back to his side.

“I don’t think I can just let you go like this,” she admits. A tear escapes Choong’s eye as he replies, “Knowing how you feel is enough for me.”

Her voice breaks, “It’s not enough for me.” Gah. Why is this breaking my heart? I know it’s designed that way, so I don’t know why I’m surprised that it’s working. Maybe because I wasn’t expecting the emotional hook to actually get me.

He holds her hands through the bars as both of them cry. They love each other, but he’s going to die, and… *sniff*

She runs away and flashes back to a a conversation we didn’t see, which only cements my love for the crown prince—he told his older sister about a secret passageway in the prison leading to the outside. Best. Dongsaeng. EVER.

We see a mysterious man swap out Choong’s cell key for a fake before he releases a butterfly into the prison, since it’ll naturally find the secret passageway on its search for fresh air.

Mu-young is on the outside waiting to spot the butterfly, and when she does she finds the exit to the passageway. Ah ha. She never fails to impress.

That night, Mu-young uses the passageway to sneak into the prison while her brother takes the initiative to try and get the king to rescind the execution order.

The king calls the crown prince idealistic for thinking that there’s another solution to his problem with General Yeon. “Indeed, the goal of politics is always idealistic. However, the road to that ideal is ugly, dirty, and sometimes even vulgar. Are you afraid of that road?” the king asks.

The crown prince believes that there’s another road, though his father doesn’t agree. “You must have grown quite fond of him,” the king notes, as we see Mu-young find her way into the prison proper only feet away from Choong’s cell.

“I don’t know General Yeon very well, but I felt I could communicate with his son,” the crown prince admits. I love how his dad’s all happy that he found a friend only to be like, You can find a new one. Harsh.

The king stops suddenly as a thought hits him: “Did your sister send you to me?” The crown prince falters—a dead giveaway that she did. Ohhh, the king knows she’s up to something!

Mu-young has to avoid the prison guard, so she waits for the right moment to throw her eunjangdo, a silver dagger women carried for self-defense, into Choong’s cell. The guard is suspicious of the strange sound, but finds nothing amiss. Phew, close shave.

At least the king doesn’t instantly jump to the conclusion that Mu-young is in the midst of a prison break, but he does scold her brother for being swayed by his emotions just like his sister. He wants to find Mu-young for a chat… uh oh.

Choong discreetly takes the knife, but when he spots Mu-young hiding in the ice cellar his eyes go wide in shock. I think he’s more worried for her than for himself, because if she’s caught…

The crown prince tries to dissuade his father from waking Mu-young up, and I’m not too sure dad buys it even though he agrees to let the matter rest.

Mu-young sneaks up to the cell to try the key, only the lock won’t give. Oh no. Her desperation grows as the guard can be heard coming their way, so Choong grabs her silver dagger as though he’s prepared to kill the guard to protect her. Ack! Hurry, Mu-young!

You can see him silently willing her to just give up, and she lets out tears of frustration as she keeps trying. Then we see that it’s not just the prison guard but also Jang who’s approaching, which is bad news bears.

She tries and tries, but she can’t unlock the door. The look on her face when she realizes she can’t save him is heartbreaking, and she’s forced to run and hide before Jang sees her. The dagger is left behind.

Jang orders Choong moved to a different cell. (Was he sent by the king?) Choong turns back to Mu-young’s hiding place, not once but twice. The longing in their gazes is just… wow. Their chemistry is on fire this episode.

And then Jang looks back as if he knows she’s there. Eek, does he?

The king discovers Mu-young when she returns to the palace, and she instantly drops to her knees to beg for Choong’s life. “He is a poor soul who was forsaken by his father. For someone who was never loved by his father to have to die because of who his father is… it’s just too unfair.”

The king reminds her that his father happens to be General Yeon, his enemy, though she counters that they may as well have no blood relation at all. It’s still a no-go.

“I admire your passion,” her father admits. “However, I can’t let the dignity of the royal family be damaged by it. He will be executed at noon tomorrow.” He leaves Mu-young crying.

It seems like Choong’s impending death is at least weighing on his father’s mind that night, enough for him to try to gain an audience with the king. Jang is the one to tell him that the king refuses to see him.

After a very long pause, General Yeon asks that Jang at least extend the courtesy of returning Choong’s body in one piece so he can be given a proper funeral. Then he asks to see his son. (At least he’s acknowledging Choong now. Silver lining?)

He gets only the one chance to talk to his son before he dies, and this is what he says: “Many people will be watching you die. If you are a Yeon, you will meet your death with dignity.” Oh, wow. Really? I know someone who isn’t getting a #1 Dad hanbok this year.

Choong bears the moment in silence. Dude. You’re dying to protect that guy?

Dawn breaks on Execution Day. Both the prince and princess are uneasy as they think of Choong’s execution, and it’s cute that they’ve both formed a bond with him. You can see Mu-young trying to think of something, anything, to do. But she’s exhausted her resources.

Choong is escorted in a line of prisoners to the public stage where a small crowd has gathered, including his friend Jin-gu. I love that his friend was just there to see a normal round of executions, only to be totally floored when he sees Choong among the condemned. Good times in Goguryeo.

All the prisoners’ faces are covered with white hoods, and Choong’s last glimpse of the mortal world disappears behind one too. The executioner starts waving his sword in preparation to do some beheading, and brings it this close to Choong’s neck. Okay, now I’m starting to really worry. How are they going to save him?!

Mu-young races through town driving her own carriage, sending people ducking for cover. Please tell me she has a plan.

Choong’s face is uncovered—not because he gets to be spared, but because the king ordered him to be hung, not beheaded. His poor friend Jin-gu starts crying out from the audience as they lower the noose around Choong’s neck…

Mu-young runs to make it to the stage, only to stop in the crowd. Wait. She doesn’t have a plan? She was my last hope!

This look passes over Choong’s face when he spots Mu-young in the crowd, which I can only describe as utter desolation. (I’m not crying… it’s just been raining on my face.)

General Yeon stares at the same ancestral portraits we saw him at before, only—…oh. OH! The portrait he stared so hard at before is now backlit, and there’s a hidden within—Da Vinci Code style—of Choong’s mother. Whoa.

The king sits pensively still as General Yeon is seen leaving the ancestral room. Is he going to save his son?

Mu-young looks on helplessly as Jang gives the order, and Choong’s body is hoisted up by the noose around his neck. No no no. No no no no no.

Choong claws at the rope hanging him and gasps for breath. Jin-gu has to be held back by the guards from saving his friend as Mu-young sobs.

 
COMMENTS

I’m the kind of spoilerphobe who won’t even watch previews for upcoming episodes, not just because previews can be misleading, but because going into an episode relatively blind is the closest guarantee I can get to experience the show as the writer intended—twists, reveals, and all. That has nothing to do with a highbrow notion of how art should be consumed or anything of the sort, it just makes watching a show more fun for me.

Because I can’t always control what spoilers I see, I try to at least control one aspect of what I don’t see, and that’s the next episode previews. Usually, it’s because I see the events highlighted in the preview and spend an entire week (or a day, depending on the episode) trying to figure out how the story will navigate us there. And when I do that, I’m usually wrong. So avoiding them lets me accomplish two good things: (1) experiencing the show as intended, and (2) being less wrong. I’m bringing this up because Sword made me break my No Preview Rule—I was compelled to watch the preview after this cliffhanger. I needed to get some reassurance that everything would be okay. And that didn’t happen. Instead, my nerves had frayed nerve babies and I could really go for a drink.

It usually just feels like schmuck bait when a drama tries to hinge a cliffhanger on whether one of the main characters lives or dies (this excludes the final episodes where everyone ever is prone to dying), so with us being only four episodes into this drama, it makes NO SENSE that Choong would die, right? Right. Drama logic mandates that he must live. But that knowledge isn’t as comforting as I’d like it to be, and part of the ‘why’ lies in the seamless narrative construction of this episode—by spending an hour with Choong’s death looming overhead while other characters we know to be smart and resourceful scrambled to save him only to then fail, this show set up a freakin’ tough dramatic problem.

What’s great about the show having Mu-young, the crown prince, and General Yeon (to a lesser degree) exhaust all possible solutions to the very real problem of Choong’s fate is that I felt as hopeless as Mu-young was by the end of the episode. I can’t think of a way out of this that someone hasn’t already thought of in this show, which is about as ideal a place as I could hope to be as a viewer. Ideal, but also terrifying.

It broke my heart to pieces when Mu-young’s prison break failed because we’ve all been there, to that point where all our hard work, all our heart, and all our effort can only get us so far. To see her execute so much of her daring plan flawlessly only to come up against that ONE obstacle was just plain torture—because after all that, I really did expect her to succeed. Scratch that, I wanted her to succeed. Mu-young is a gem of a heroine that manages that rare balancing act of being, well, balanced. And she manages to be in love without losing herself, so her actions have clear motivations that are rooted in reason and heart. She’s just the best.

While I wasn’t completely sold on the romance at first, or even still by last episode, sometimes it just takes that one moment, that one spark, to suck you in. That happened for me when Mu-young let her vulnerability, her fear of losing Choong, show in front of him. And then he took her hands, accepted her heart, and I was a goner.

 
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