#but NOW? after closing the comments? thats too egregious.

[mobiused]

what are your opinions on the yeojin mcdonalds thing?

Umm I think it's really awkward and everyones handling it stupidly. Tell yeojin and ctd that she should stop eating mcdonalds if she cares about palestinian lives yes. Demand an apology if you want yes. Verbally abuse her no. Immature of her to close comments without addressing the controversy yes. Is her disordered eating relevant whatsoever? No. Pretend that Korea is some isolated land full of idiots who know nothing about global politics no. Pretend that Korea is on par with the US regarding info about boycotts and the palestinian genocide no. But at the end of the day Yeojin has access to the internet, she's undoubtedly seen the complaints, all it takes is a little sorry won't happen again. But everyone is being so weird about it. Like its always all about nuance really.

I'm just thinking of the time Yeojin reacted badly when she got called out for her disordered eating the first time, then took some time away and apologised sincerely. Hoping this will happen again because I have faith she's that type of person. Though understandable if people aren't wanting to forgive her over this.

[sabraeal]

Headcannon: Haki likes to play games with Izana, especially when she knows something that he doesn't. It's usually something minor and completely useless, but it drives Izana mad (low key of course) until he figures it out. But thats her favorite part of these games, because when he does figure it out the sex is great.

(Part Three of a series. Part One. Part Two.)

He must be made to trust her.

After the anger has faded and the wounds to her pride scabbed over, that is the thought that comes to her on her wedding night and every one thereafter. Until it can be proven to my satisfaction, he said, and that is the soil in which she plants her hopes in. She is no spy, and it should be all too easy to show that her allegiance lies with the crown.

Or at least it will, as soon as she is sure her royal husband does not mean to tear the North asunder.

He comes to her chambers every night for a week; she greets him warmly in front of her ladies. In their sight he acts like a loving bridegroom, if a bit restrained. Nothing that could not be explained by the dignity of his position. When she sends them away, blushing prettily at their sly smiles, his mask is promptly discarded, and he makes for the passage between their rooms.

“Why do you come at all, then?” she asks, trying to smooth the spite from her voice. She will keep his secret – their secret – but he owes her an explanation, at the least. “If you cannot abide me.”

He hesitates a moment, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “We are just married.” He smiles at that, strangely soft. “And – what is it they always say about newlyweds? – they cannot keep their hands off each other.”

She is wroth to find her first thought is, then you should not keep your hands off me.

If she is to prove her worth to him, she must impress him; she must show him she can offer him something that no one else can.

It must be a surprise. Which means it cannot be done in front of her ladies.

An easier thing said than done. They are around her always during the day, kind if a bit quiet. Now that she has had more than a few hours to know them, she sees that they are not a bevy of eligible maids, as she had original thought, but unmarried woman closer to her own age. None of them seem to be much interested in the young bucks at court, instead suggesting they take walks through the gardens – world-renowned, they assure her, though none of them have seen the hothouses of Lyrias – or painting by the river, or, on poorer days, needlepoint inside.

If his personality did not make it impossible, she might suspect rather uncharitable reasons for his selection of these women. It would not be the first time a king hid his mistresses in his wife’s entourage.

But there are no jealous glares, no posturing, and – miraculously – no in-fighting. Instead they are a gentle touch at her elbow, a helpful comment whispered in her ear. If she’s not careful, she might find herself trusting them.

Still, duping them is child’s play. This is not her first time escaping her chaperone.

The Queen Dowager intends to stay at Wistal for a few weeks after the wedding. Haki finds herself torn: on the one hand she is glad of it, for they have always gotten on, as close as two women may be who are not mother and daughter; but at the same time it is clear that she is here to serve as distraction. Whenever her husband holds court, or he speaks with the council, she is suddenly possessed with an invitation from Her Majesty. She may not be forbidden from the room, but she is certainly being told she is not welcome.

Her Majesty’s presence also has another unpleasant side effect: informal dinner.

“You should take your wedding trip soon,” the Queen Dowager suggests, undaunted by her son’s forbidding look. “If you plan to go out of the country, you would do well to plan before autumn, otherwise the passes may freeze. You know how the mountains always snow early.”

Izana lets out a long breath through his nose, setting down his fork. “I do not think now is the time for such a thing, Mother.”

“Now is the perfect time,” she informs him blithely, in the way only a mother could. Haki hides her grin behind a napkin, pretending to dab off some of her soup course.

“Mother.” The word is said with long-suffering patience, flavored with the slightest hint of plaintiveness. “The situation here is…delicate. It would not do to have me away.“

Her Majesty arches one of her perfectly formed brows. “I think the situation could be a lot more delicate. A wedding trip would help with that.”

Her husband valiantly ignores the suggestion, appearing too taken with the roasted duck on his plate.

“I’ve heard Yuris is quite nice, this time of year,” she continues, unperturbed by her son’s reticence. “Though some say Viande is finer. More cosmopolitan.”

His mouth pulls flat, but he replies, so even, “Viande is far too young for my tastes. Later, maybe.”

His mother’s mouth curves slyly. “I’ve always preferred the islands myself.”

It is good to know that even here, her family name keeps its clout. The North does not forgive, but nor does it forget, he father had told her so many times.

She is pleased to find how true it is.

When Her Majesty leaves, her husband stops his nightly visits – but not entirely.

He takes dinner with her twice weekly, and when they have finished, he escorts her to her chambers, letting all and sundry see him slip inside. He, of course, does not stay longer than to bid her a civil goodnight.

“Am I to assume your eagerness was all a show for Her Majesty?” she asks one night before he leaves. It is a marvel how even her voice is.

“It is only natural for the ardor to cool between wed couples,” he explains, “I thought two nights would be enough so that I do not seem to be neglecting my duties, neither in the court nor…bedroom.”

She has a novel’s worth of things to say about that, but she says instead, “It just so happens to coincide with your mother’s departure.”

He flinches, but a bare moment later he is compose again, as if it had never happened. “Consider it a courtesy to you,” he tells her breezily. “Pray you never have idea how interested she is in…grandchildren.”

At last, her connections bear fruit. She is quick to pen her letter, mouth curved slyly as she slips it to her messenger.

Oh, how surprised His Majesty will be.

“I heard Her Majesty sent you a letter,” Haki starts, crossing her utensils over the soup course to signal she is ready for the next. “How is Wilant?”

It is part of her plan to ask, but as the words fall out, she find that she wants to know. Wistal is ever-summer, a paradise compared to the endless winters of the North but –

But it is her home, nonetheless. She misses it.

“Cold,” he says simply, agitated. After a long pause, he adds, “She was inquiring after a wedding trip again. She assured me it would help along some more delicate issues.”

Haki stifles a snort. She misses the woman more than she expected; she had hoped that her departure would leave her time to involve herself in council sessions, but instead there are yet more ladies to please, and she wishes instead she could beg off to walk the gardens with Her Majesty. She is far more pleasant company than most in the capital, and familiar.

She does not think her husband can be behind all of her invitations, but neither does she think it is an accident that there is always a tea or luncheon she cannot possibly miss when there is due to be a meeting.

“She favored Yuris, did she not?” Haki composes her face into a thoughtful expression. “That is where our newest councilor is from, is it not? From when you had to remove Brecker?”

“Yes,” her husband says, a little absent. “He finally tried something a little more egregious than obstructing a messenger bird. I thought it time to let Yuris’ people have a say in the way they are governed.”

It bothers how much she could like him, if he was someone that allowed himself to be liked.

“Yes, I remember now.” She presses a finger to her lips in though. “Ah, yes – the councilor. It’s the chieftain’s daughter is it not?”

“It is.”

“Kihal. I talked to her at the wedding. A bright girl.” She lifts her wine glass, taking a casual sip. “I’ve heard she’s considered a good match for the prince.”

Her husband goes curiously still.

“And the princess of Viande as well, no?” she asks, so innocent. “Akaibara. She’s quite young though. Fifteen is it? I doubt Zen would consent to such a match, if it was proposed…now.”

His mouth lifts at the corner, canting his lips into a smirk. He lays down his fork, drawing his gaze up to meet hers. “All right, wife. You have my attention.” He settles back into his chair. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Oh!” She flutters her eyelashes prettily. “I only meant to suggest that I could be of service to you, husband.”

His long fingers drum thoughtfully on the table. “Is that so?”

“I found that out easily enough.” She tries to keep the frustration out of her voice. “And that was in a court in which I had very few connections. One might imagine I could do more with connections more familiar…”

“You would not say such a thing if you did not already have a tender morsel to give.” She flushes under his sultry look, his hooded eyes reminding her of nothing more than that she is a married woman who has not yet lain with her husband. His hand reaches out for hers, running a finger along one of the long bones of her hand. “Come now, wife. Won’t you feed your husband?”

Haki fights the urge to pull her hands away, pushing back the muzziness in her head. She mislikes how easily he can turn her thoughts to mush and her knees to jelly.

“Oh, but husband,” she sighs, leaning just so, so that her breasts brush at his wrist. “If I am to serve, then are you not to take?”

His brows draw together as if her suggestion confused him, but then his gaze drops to her decolletage, and –

“Oh,” he breathes. “You are a clever vixen, are you not?”

Two long fingers slip between the lace of her gown and the linen of her chemise, pinching her prize between them. She does not think it is her imagination that he lingers, or that his breath comes as harsh as her own. His fingers slide out, brushing over the smooth skin of her breast –

“A letter?” he says, holding the nearly folded square of parchment. She’s folded it down to hardly more than an inch; a lesson learned during interminable lessons with the other maids at Wilant. “Cunningly done.”

She shrugs, feigning humility. “There is a trick to it.”

He opens it, his eyebrows lifting as he read the contents. “Rodatrad wants to place his daughter at court?”

“He’s quite eager, so I’ve been told,” she agrees. “From what I’ve heard, only a prince will do. We don’t have very many of those at Wilant.”

“Nor are you to get very many more, if my welcome was typical,” he remarks, and when she looks up to refute him, he is smiling. He is teasing. “Very good, wife. This is good information, indeed. I will have to talk this over with my advisors, so that we may plan how to approach this.”

“Oh, husband,” she purrs, leaning further into him. “Do you not know? I will take care of you in all ways.”

He stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“It is already handled,” she tells him, pleased. “I offered her a place among my ladies.”

“You did what?” He launches from his seat, leaving her cold. “Without my permission?”

She should have expected him to be ungrateful. “You may have forgotten, since I have been so permissive, but a Queen’s entourage is of her own selection.”

“I – only by the King’s leave.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You offered a position to a – how did you – how did you manage this? Your ladies –”

“You think I would do this in front of your spies?” she scoffs. “Do you think I am somehow new to –”

“Spies?” He stares at her as if he has never seen such a terrifying creature. “I surrounded you with the most politically adept young women that Wistal has to offer, and you – they were here to help you!”

She stares. He meant them to help? Her mind races as she recalls the last few weeks, how they were eager to impart knowledge of the other courtiers, of members of the council that crossed her path – oh, oh –

A thunderous cloud passes over his face. “Ah, but I should have known. You are far too clever to be helped.”

He throws his napkin onto the table. “I find myself weary after dinner. I think I shall go straight to bed.”

She can do little more than stare at her hands. If only he had told her –

He fixes her with one last glare. “After all, I have much to rectify tomorrow.”