Vietnamese Mythology Retold: Kinh Dương Vương and Long Nữ (Pt.1)
Good stories start with love, even better if it's between a King and a Dragon Princess.
Amid the flowers of the Asphodel Meadows, Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, laid face up, her armour scattered around lifeless, its gold no longer had the energy to glow.
“I was not aware that thing can come off.” - A woman’s voice, sweet as nectar, soft as a morning’s pillow, entered Athena’s ear before its owner appeared.
“I do not wish to be disturbed, Aphrodite.” - She was there now, the Goddess of Love, bringing with her a scent that triumphed over every flower in the Meadows combined. Athena squinted her nose in disgust.
“I know we have our differences, Sister, but I am simply here to share your pain.” - Aphrodite sat down next to Athena, putting her right hand on Athena's left’s. There was silence.
“You could have helped me.” - Athena finally said, the words came out crushed through gritted teeth as the Goddess stifled her tears.
“I did, Athena.” - Another bout of silence.
“Why did you make Love so difficult, Sister?”
“I did not, Sister dearest. Love has always been there. It is a force so ancient evades all understanding, I’m afraid.”
“Perhaps Wisdom and Love were never meant to be.”
“We get along well enough, Sister dear.”
“Perhaps.”
And the two Goddesses sat next to each other there on the Field of the Deaths, looking over their Uncle Hades’ newly built palace, contemplating their immortal lives. “Perhaps Wisdom and Love were never meant to be,” they will soon see the gravity of that statement when another Prince appeared in Athena’s life, offering not her but Aphrodite the Apple for the Fairest.
Everything, Aphrodite did. No love arrows were spared, no magic was unused. By the time Aphrodite was done with him, Lộc Tục had more love potion in him than blood, his eyesight could see nothing but Athena, his brain could think nothing but her, his heart would shrivel when she wasn’t around. And yet, it wasn’t enough. The moment Lộc Tục met that buffalo-herder girl from the next village has become a constant in all timelines of all worlds, and his love for her was Ultimate, Omega, and Alpha. Even if Zeus hadn’t slain Chronos and time-travel was possible, he would still meet her. She was the light to his eyes, the matter to his consciousness, his shrivel heart he gave to her, and in the kingdom his dreams, she ruled.
The Prince met Long Nữ on one the rare occasions he left his room. The first word he thought of was “fragile,” as she took cover behind her buffallo when the wind came, fearing it would blow her away. Yet, as she stood up, her weary gait and straight back, her determined eyes to herd the buffalo betrayed the tattered veil clinging on to her body. The presence she exuded with each step seem to fade even the Sun, which explained her pallid skin. And those eyes, or in Lộc Tục’s words, those universes. Visionary, he was often called as his advisors hear of their Prince’s ten-year plan for the empire. But that day, Lộc Tục saw in Long Nữ’s eyes a blueprint to shape planets.
“I love you.” - Was the only words he could utter.
Startled, the girl immediately snuck behind her buffalo again.
“And you are?” - The girl spoke, her voice a fragile, melodic whisper, like a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. Her question hung in the air, laden with curiosity and caution.
“I am Lộc Tục, the Prince of this country.”
“Prince-s-s-s? Whatf would a Prince be doing alone, and saying thatf?” - There was a strange pattern to her speech, like her tongue was too long for her mouth. Human mouth at least.
“My sincerest apologies, madam. I am pondering a problem so I insisted on embarking alone. And for my statement, I’m afraid I just couldn’t contain the language of my heart.” - At that point, even before meeting Athena to perfect his swordsmanship, Tục’s already surpassed his master, the captain of the Royal Guard.
“Thatf mustf be the cheesiestf thfing I’ve ever heard.” - She laughed, and he felt like someone turned off gravity. - “Whatf you pondering ‘boutf?”
And so they talked, of politics and of life. The pair was strange enough from afar: a tall, lanky, expensively dressed man sitting on his knees on the grass, hungrily absorbing the words of a small farmgirl. On closer inspection, it was even more peculiar: from problems of governance to debates of life and love, Tục and Nữ talked as though their minds were connected. At the end of the conversation, even the buffalo seemed to weep.
"I ponder the weight of my crown," Lộc Tục confessed. "I am tasked with governing a kingdom, and yet, what if I am not happy? Can I bring happiness to my people when I am not?”
Long Nữ tilted her head, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as she contemplated his words. Her concentration on the discussion had slackened her control of magic, but she noticed not her face growing longer.
"Prince Lộc Tục," she began, her speech now clear, as there is a sudden anger in her "the fact that you ponder such a question, while rulers and leaders out there seek power and wealth, is already a testament to the commitment to your people. But in it, I sense selfishness! Are you so egotistical that you equate your own happiness to others? Happiness has nothing to do with leadership! You are pampered from birth, raised in the best environment, and now you are bestowed the throne. Pay for that by being responsible, not by being happy. Be happy by seeing your people happy!”
Prince Lộc Tục recoiled slightly at the unexpected intensity in Long Nữ's voice. Her accusation had frustration strewn across, like it was from her own experience. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before responding.
"Long Nữ, I did not intend for my words to come across as selfish," he replied earnestly, his voice steady. "I merely question my ability to lead effectively if I am not content within myself. I worry that my own discontentment might cloud my judgment and affect the decisions I make for the kingdom."
Long Nữ's expression softened, as if she realized she misspoke. She nodded slowly. "I understand your concerns, Prince Lộc Tục. It is true that a ruler's state of mind can have a significant impact on their leadership. But remember, happiness is a complex and ever-changing emotion. It is not a constant state but rather a journey filled with both highs and lows. Seeking happiness is important, but it should not come at the expense of your duty as a leader."
The moonlight continued to bathe them in its silvery glow, casting shadows on their faces as they conversed. Long Nữ's anger had dissipated, replaced by a more empathetic demeanor.
"Your responsibility as a ruler is to create an environment in which your people can pursue their own happiness," Long Nữ continued. "Your actions should be driven by the well-being and prosperity of the kingdom. And in doing so, you may find your own happiness in the satisfaction of serving your people."
"I appreciate your guidance, Long Nữ," he said with his mind, but his heart still felt the weight of the country. One thing Long Nữ never mentioned, was how he was never given a choice. He never chose his parents. Of course, Lộc Tục would later learn why she decided to omit such an important point. If only he could have guessed that the buffalo-herder was not only carrying but bound and gagged and squished by the same responsibilities.
And the conversation continued, the Prince and the buffalo-herder side by side, inching ever closer to one another with every word. But before their hands met, Long Nữ’s husband could be heard barking orders to his cavalry. Not much could be heard over the horses’ hooves, and they were still a distance away, but Tục was sure they are not chanting the word “bill” over and over again.
Next time, how Long Nữ, a dragon princess, became a buffalo-herder.