#royals x servant au

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

do you want to be needed, or do you want to be wanted?

*throws this betrothed au sappiness at you* i hope u enjoy this despite how low effort and smashed together it is pls forgive me srry *scuttles back under my littel moss covered rock*

[scarredlove]

Woke

[daryldamnson]

made a wish on elevens - historical royal au

summary: eddie’s a servant. he knows what that means. he knows he can’t have you. he loves you anyway. fem!reader, hardcore pining

unoffically made this for yearoftheotpevent's 2023 thing because i'm not actually taking part but i really liked the idea so i picked january: historical au

word count: 1k

title from wish on an eyelash by mallrat

“Is it so wrong?  Wishing to love and be loved in return?”

You remain oblivious to the sad, lovelorn stare levelled at you as you sigh quietly, gaze roving over the hills in the distance as you continue to muse.

“Perhaps not wrong, I suppose…  Just silly.  A naive wish I thought I’d long grown out of.”  You glance over at him and flash a dry smile.  “Apparently not.”

“You knew the day approached, My Lady.”  Eddie speaks softly, wary of slipping up and speaking out of turn, especially within the walls of the castle.  “Surely it does not come as a shock to you?”

“I don’t know, I…. I suppose I never truly thought it through until today.  Or, rather, I did and simply hoped I may grow to love the man chosen for me.”  You let out an amused huff of air, shaking your head.  “Or, Gods, even like him.  Is a fondness for my husband really so strange a wish?”

“Of course not, My Lady.”  And then, because apparently he’s a masochist, “You don’t believe you may form affection for Lord Hargrove?”

Your eyes flick over to him and he can’t help the soft breath of laughter that escapes him at your expression.

“That awful?”

“And more.  Gods, Eddie, you should’ve heard the way he spoke to his footman.  And Robin when she served his drink ‘from the wrong side’ - honestly!  He has also clearly never had to use the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ before, which is a minor indictment on his list of offences, I assure you, but I find it enraging all the same.  And - stop laughing at me!”

Even as you admonish him for his stifled laughter a bright smile grows on your face and a few giggles of your own slip through.  He’s not always entirely sure how he does it - though he certainly puts on the show of a jester sometimes just for your sake - but Eddie loves making you smile like that.

He shouldn’t, he knows that.  It’s wrong.  You’re a Lady and he’s lucky to even work in the castle, let alone harbour affections towards…  It’s wrong.  It’s wrong.  It’s wrong.

Eddie tries his hardest to convince himself, but how can his - usually successful - attempts at bringing such a lovely smile to your face be anything but right and good? 

Your laughter fades out but there’s a happy quirk to your lips that remains so Eddie takes this as a success.

“I’m truly serious, Eddie, he…”  You shake your head, almost baffled-looking.  “I cannot imagine having to marry a person like that.  Basic decency should never be an optional trait - certainly not in someone I’m to spend my life with or trust to look after my people.  I had hoped…  I don’t know, that I could at least be friends with my betrothed.  Best friends, preferably.  I mean, is that not the point?  Are we not supposed to get along?  Make each other happy?  Want to spend time together?  I don’t believe any of those things could be true if I were to marry that selfish, tactless, inconsiderate brute.”

Your weary sigh and freshly returned frown weighs heavily on his chest, and he finds himself scrambling for something to reassure you with.  But nothing appears - what can you say to a woman destined to marry someone not of her own choosing?

Marry me instead, a voice echoes in his head.  I would make you happy, or try my best to.  I would be devoted to you for the rest of my life - I will be anyway, no matter whom you marry.  Please.  Just consider me.  I love you, I love you, I love you.

No.  He certainly can’t say that.

“I am sorry, My Lady,” he lands on, pouring sympathy into his tone as your gaze lands on him once again.

There’s a comfortable pause before you speak, holding eye contact as you grace him with another gentle smile.  Eddie hopes he isn’t imagining the fondness in your eyes or your tone.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“For what?  I hardly provided useful council.”

“For listening.  For always…  Always listening and letting me ramble on at you.  I’m forever grateful.  You truly are my best friend.”

Your hand rises and hovers near his arm, a ghost of a smile flitting across your lips as you pull away, both of you distinctly aware of what the ramifications of you touching a male servant in such a familiar way would be.

Eddie would suffer for it, and you won’t stand for that.  Sometimes he thinks it would be worth it, but were he banished or imprisoned he’d never see you again so he has to admit he’s infinitely grateful for your stronger willpower.

The sudden appearance of Robin causes you to take another step back from him and Eddie finds himself mourning the loss.  Even more so when she informs you that your mother is requesting your presence and you let out a long-suffering sigh as you turn to follow her.

You exchange a parting glance, Eddie dipping into a gentle bow as you walk past, and it’s not until you’re halfway down the hallway before you look over your shoulder to see him watching you leave.

“Wish me luck that the next is more tolerable!”

He can’t call down the hall at that volume the way you can lest he be punished, but he does mutter “good luck, My Lady,” under his breath for you.

Because as much as he longs for you to return his feelings, you are more important.  You will undoubtedly be marrying a man of your own stature, and Eddie loves you too much to wish you anything but pure happiness, even if that is found with someone else.  Even when it would break his heart.

Eddie would happily wish for it to be torn to pieces if only to ensure you a contented life.

The heavy doors close behind you and Eddie turns to look out of the same window you had occupied only moments before.

He allows himself one moment to let his thoughts of you swirl through his mind before he closes the lid once more and turns to walk in the opposite direction, off to complete the duties of a lowly manservant you would never be allowed to marry.

requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me

p.s. it was no accident that reader said she wanted to marry her best friend and then called eddie her best friend two minutes later, eddie thinks it's unrequited but he's dumb ♡

[v-3rg3]

smut as my first post, dear god what have i made- wip : [ m!prince x gn!assistant/reader - referred by they/them though written w/ m parts ] - pt 1/?

An uninterested prince sat on his throne, he paid no attention to the suitor before him as they hastily left much like the others that followed before them.

His gaze fell to his assistant beside him, he looked over their solemn expression to secretly wonder how it would differ if they were to show emotion. Either by the product of happiness or something else.

That was where the prince's thoughts wandered, allowing the images to linger. Fingers that caressed the edges of their lips. A hand that rested on the curve of their neck that craned down for a kiss.

The thoughts gave him a sudden excitement. Perhaps too much as it made his crotch suddenly stiffen.

The prince crossed his leg over the other before anyone could notice his erection as it pulled against the loose fabric. However his gaze remained on the assistant and it soon caught their attention.

"Yes, my liege?" They questioned.

Even as the prince had attempted to keep his thoughts in place, he couldn't help but let his gaze wander from their eyes to their lips. He flicked them back up before he got anymore careless.

"How many more princesses in the same dresses must I see until we are finished?" The prince asked in his usual childish manner, shifting in his position as his erection persisted. Unwilling to point out the tension that had unintentionally grown. It could either be translated as apprehension or just the prince's desire.

Even then, he didn't feel the need to risk to find out whether the other felt the same. His conscience may have been obscene at the moment but he wouldn't let his impulsivity win.

"Until you find one that suits you." The prince found their answer to be one he did not favour.

As the remaining thread of his morals thinned, he pointed in front of his throne, "Come here for a moment."

The assistant obeyed, standing in front of him.

"And how are you so sure that any of this will help?" The prince said, the tip of his shoe raised up. Up the assistant's leg and caressing near their inner thigh. "Perhaps I'd like something else rather than this."

The assistant's face remained blank for awhile until it flushed a red hue. A grin spread across his face, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Lightly tracing the shoe's tip a little higher just to tease them. Raising his hand up, holding their chin and turning their face back to him. "Well?"

They began, "This is a throne room —" Though the assistant's words swayed as the prince leaned forward, head tilted against theirs, barely any distance between their lips. "And?" Heated breaths fell against each other, gazes locked and communicated every thought without a word. "You want this as much as I do."

[wyntr-thyms-2sh1ne]

El Castillo de Encanto: Que Tú Eres Mi Destino

The Castle of the Enchantment: That You Are My Destiny

Each new gift given by the miraculous candle was meant to strengthen the community, strengthen the El Castillo de Encanto. To make the royal Madrigal family proud.

You work as a personal servant within the Royal Madrigal's family castle, but after the fall of the Castillo and rebirth of the miracle, your work plans change. Time to make the missing triplet feel at home once again.

The dictionary of my spanglish and bad timeline: - El Castillo de Encanto the casita in this version. - Reader is technically 22 years old. - I'm using a mix of a magical democratic monarchy and traditional Spanish, Colombian, and a dash of Downton Abbey

Chapter ambience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLWbKf4YcAA

Fifty years ago, a newly widowed mother received a miracle. Pushed out of her home after the birth of her three children by the violent conflict of the Colombian civil war, she and her husband were forced to flee in hopes of finding a new home. Even as many joined them, they could not escape the dangers of warfare. The wife watched as her newly fathered husband was lost to the violence of war. But, even in their darkest moment, Alma Madrigal was given a miracle.

The candle she held became a magical flame that could never go out, and glowed brightly in that dark night. It blessed Alma Madrigal with a refuge in which to live. The magic made towering green, protective mountains over her and her people. It was a place of wonder, an enchantment. The miracle grew, creating a castle for her and her family to live in, El Castillo de Encanto. Their house, the castle itself, came alive to shelter them.

When her children came of age, the miracle blessed them with magic too. Passing down to them a magical gift to match the magical candle Queen Alma Madrigal was bestowed. And when their children came of age, that magic was passed through each generation. Together, the royal family's gifts have made the Encanto, truly, a paradise.

Each new gift given by the miraculous candle was meant to strengthen the community, strengthen the El Castillo de Encanto. To make the royal Madrigal family proud.

Each gift given to the Madrigal’s was just as special as they were. 

~~~

When you wake up you do so to the sound of a ringing bell, loud and clanging to purposefully alert the women and men around you. You jump up so fast being so startled and smack your forehead on the wooden panel of the bunk above you. With a small hiss and rubbing your forehead, you stumble out of bed, grabbing at the clothes under your bed frame. The woman above you does too. Everyone around is scrambling to get their royal garb on, whispering in excitement. 

Today we move back into El Castillo de Encanto! The Castle! 

You had to admit how relieved you were. It was so cramped in this temporary arrangement the servants of the Madrigal family found themselves in while the magic was still weak. This was usually where the nuns from the church would stay. 

Truly, a humble celibate life they live… You think to yourself as you use a silvery, shiny ribbon to quickly tie your hair into a low ponytail. 

Ten years ago, the village of Encanto fretted over the state of the magic blessing when Mirabel Madrigal did not receive a gift like the rest of her family. Not even 24 hours later, one of the royal magical triplets in the second generation known as “Bruno, la maldición del destino” by most of the town, disappeared. 

You were only 12 when this all happened, working alongside your parents as an apprentice of servitude. When you were 13, you were working alone without your parents anymore. You weren’t sure why they passed away so young.

You loved your parents. The Columbian political unrest was too much, most nights they could see the smoke billowing from other towns around them being lit aflame. When your mother got pregnant with you they had a hard decision to make, stay with their friends and family and be in their home, or leave to ensure the safety of their future daughter- you. They thought and thought until your mother was incredibly far along in her pregnancy and the smoke got closer and closer, until they could see orange in the village nearby. The flames licked upwards, burning the homes of innocent families. So, with nothing but a bag with a blanket and a mysterious letter that didn’t have a return address with directions, they set out to find the mysterious Encanto.

You still had that letter. You had practically memorized what it had written on it. In shiny golden metallic font, it stated, “The Encanto, home for anyone looking for refuge or a miracle. Follow the butterflies. Climb the forested mountain. It is waiting for you.” They did. Somehow, they told you, they found it. It was almost like being lost and blinking and suddenly realizing where you’re going. They walked by the butterflies they saw. They took the nights in the cover of the jungle forests. They hiked up mountains. 

They actually saw the castle, and almost as if it was meant to be, your mother went into labor. You remembered sitting there and listening to this story as a child with wonder coursing through your veins. The magical royal family was alerted to them as newcomers, and they took pity on your mother and father. You were born inside the castle, brought into the world by none other than her Majesty Juileta Madrigal. The Madrigals favored your parents' perseverance and love for you as their daughter. They were personally assigned to be paid and housed as servants of the Madrigal family. 

Which, in the Encanto, was a very good job many of the villagers would be envious of. 

Your mother became Juileta’s personal servant. Your father, Bruno’s. You would remember how your mom would come back to the servants quarters with a smile on her face and a treat for you. Your father… Typically would come back looking worried and flop on his bed for a minute before winding down and being his usual self. 

When you were 5 that was when the apprenticeship started happening. Nothing really like backbreaking work, the servants usually never had to do that. You followed in your parents footsteps and worked to be a personal servant. The Madrigals had servants for everything. Teachers, babysitters, clothes, cooking, training- anything! A passion could easily be followed. Like your mother and father, from a young age you really liked order. You liked cleaning, putting things in place, choosing outfits and hairstyles or decorating rooms to be more cozy.

When Mirabel came of age for her gift, and the ceremony was a disaster as she didn’t even get a gift, your mother and father seemed both distraught. Then, Bruno disappeared. Your father suddenly and immediately declined. He wouldn’t get up for his servant job from his bunk. He only spoke to you and your mother. You couldn’t even think of how many times he whispered “you know I love you, right?” to you and your mother every night. You knew he blamed himself for Bruno disappearing, perhaps. Maybe he thought he should’ve done a better job? You didn’t know. You were too young to know. 

Your mother passed first, however. You remember her waking up really early that day and whispering “I love you mi luna” to your dad, kissing his cheek before leaving. You don’t know exactly what happened. You think maybe a stroke. But your mother passed while working, and it was so quick Juileta couldn’t get to her in time to heal her. 

When your father heard the news he was devastated. He held you that night. When you woke up to get breakfast you came back to him cold, and lifeless, still in his bunk. You knew he died of a broken heart. 

You wished to have a love like your parents. A marriage like them. But ever since they passed you have focused on working and being the most reliable servant in the Castillo. Because of that, at the ripe young age of 13 you were assigned to La Riena Alma’s biggest mess. 

Mirabel Madrigal. 

Her Queen Alma Madrigal found the gift-less grandchild to be a pain, invisible, not as special as the rest of the magical family. When she saw how hard you worked even at your age and everything that had happened she grew content with making you the girls permanent personal servant. 

You didn’t complain. 

By then she was 7. And Mirabel was the kindest, funniest, little girl you had ever met. You practically raised her. You studied with her after her educational servant would let her out for the day, you bathed her and made sure her hair was shiny, you cleaned her glasses and taught her how to step on every stone in the Castillo without putting a foot on a crack. 

It broke your heart to see how badly Mirabel wanted to help the family even without a magical blessing like her siblings and cousins. You would go into town with her sometimes and watch the villagers practically ignore her. You hated it. But you tried everything in your power to make sure that Mirabel was happy, gift or no gift. She was special to you. A soul sister. 

When you turned 18, because of how well you handled Mirabel, her majesty Queen Madrigal named you head of servants. Honored, and feeling privileged, you worked even harder. But despite everything you did it felt like the family tension with Mirabel and the hush hush about “ese desgraciado Bruno diablo” grew more and more. 

Until the magic completely failed.

When Isabela Madrigal had a very unsuccessful, chaotic proposal from the village favored Guzman family son, Riena Alma ordered you to take all the servants away to a temporary housing arrangement at the church. She made sure to scream about how the magic is strong and the candle will never burn out. 

It did. 

The Castillo literally crumbled to the ground. Turned into a pile of rubble with barely known remnants of what was once a glorious castle. Mirabel disappeared. Horrified you spent hours with the Madrigals searching for her in this devastated state. The magic was gone, the blessing was no more, and it would seem only a miracle could fix the internal damage within the familia Madrigal and the hope of the villagers. 

Thankfully. She did come back. On horseback, with her Abuela Alma and a figure no one ever expected to return. 

Bruno.

Reunited with her family, Mirabel single handedly encouraged the entire Encanto to hope in miracles again. A month of hard work from everyone made the Castillo be rebuilt in the same glory it was before. And when Mirabel added the final touch of a doorknob, the miracle became restored. The bright golden lights and sparkles and swirls of colors that made their way up through the stone of the Castillo and rooted themselves in the ground under the whole village's feet was a sight to only behold in a state of awed wonder. 

It was a day of celebration. You took Mirabel’s hands and danced with her in celebration, cheering, saying “I knew you could do it! You are so much more special than you realize!!” The new miracle bestowed another blessing on the land, one that united everyone in communication and a desire to be better and let go of the biases of the past and make a better future. 

You blinked rapidly from your thoughts when your bunk mate called for you over her shoulder, “Hey! Líder sin miedo, c’mon! You’re going to be late moving into your ‘elite servant’ room!” 

You laugh and sprint towards her and outside of the cramped sleeping quarters, “As long as I get top bunk this time!!! 

~~~

Your joke earlier was meant as a joke and when you got to the castle everything went even more smoothly. Luckily, you did not need a bunk mate. Upon uniting with their respective Madrigal family members, each servant was either on the giving or receiving end of a magical hug. 

Mirabel threw herself at you and you at her, both of you embracing in a fit of giggles, dancing from side to side in the tight hug. When the girl pulls away she pushes her glasses up her face and smiles at you as if she was still the humble, giftless girl she was before and not the restoration of a miracle. 

Her humbleness still made her excitedly help you get settled into your quarters. They were nice. You had a room alone to yourself, with a queen sized bed and your own personal bathroom, bookcase, desk, wardrobe, and drawers. Mirabel didn’t shut up the whole time she helped you get moved in, excitedly talking about the magic and then moving on to the most surprising topic to most of the other servants. 

Her tío Bruno. 

She excitedly explained to you how he was “weird, but not like, weird weird like more like just kinda nutty weird not like super evil weird.” Which honestly made you chuckle a little. 

“So master Bruno is awkward?” 

“Yeah!” Mirabel lit up, still talking like a madman, which you loved. You really did like it when someone was excited to talk about something. It was sweet how passionate they would get. And you loved Mirabel, and so each nod and hum you gave in reply to her rambling was entirely genuine. 

She explained how short Bruno was. How he lived in the abandoned dungeon and the walls of the Castillo, with his only friends being the rats in there. She even explained his embarrassing habit of using them to make his own little personal plays so he would be entertained all cooped up in there. 

You giggled, only drawing on what your father’s experience was with him. He explained Bruno was always well meaning but prone to being really unlucky himself. He always tried to convince you as a young girl that Bruno wasn’t as scary as everyone made him seem. 

Standing at 5’3, being 50 years old, and looking so skinny for his age- yup. You believed him and Mirabel well over the village folk and Camilo’s shallow seven foot interpretation of his uncle. 

Mirabel went on to explain how much he loved the Encanto, the Madrigal monarchy itself, and each and every one of the family members. How he aided her in seeing the future to help save the miracle. She made sure to put a lot of emphasis on how he seemed to be the only adult she had ever met (“aside from present company, of course,” she made sure to add, winking at you) who treated her with respect. Like he understood her wishes and desires and demands and even if he was scared he knew what was for the best despite the wishes of the f amily to remain “fine”. After her emotional banter about him she got more into his appearance. 

By then you were following behind her with your back straight, clasped hands held at your belly button height, resuming the perfect personal servant posture as you did before the collapse. Your tied up hair billowed behind you as you kept a strong, certain stride. You wanted to make sure you kept working that hard and pouring everything you had into this job even if the family seemed more lax. You were the Head of Servitude, after all. 

“He has this crazy slouch. You know, like the kind you see little gárgolas standing in. Oh! And he always rings his hands or waves them around- real expressive with them, ya know?” Mirabel walked, talking to you over her shoulder, “He is all gangly like he doesn’t know where to put his limbs sometimes. You know what I mean- like a growing adolescente. He seems to not understand where to place his feet.” Mirabel walked the memorized path to her room, not stopping a moment during all of this, “When the castle was rebuilt he immediately went to bed. He wasn’t awake this morning if you didn’t see- in fact I bet he’s still in bed, durmiendo todo el dia, jeez, what an old man. Well I guess it’s not that big of a deal, he doesn’t really like using his gift anyways.” 

When she stopped in front of her door she turned to you, a smile still on her happy little face. You chuckled, and spoke, “What a glowing review for your regio uncle.” 

“I know right!” Mirabel giggled and moved her hips and legs so her brightly colored skirt swung back and forth. You stepped up next to her with a soft smile, making her turn towards her bedroom door and reach for the handle, “Now it’s your turn to help me move in!” She gave you a sly smile, knowing you would love this detail, “I need a lot of help decorating.” 

Your eyes lit up in happiness, your face not revealing it in its entirety but a small smile did form on your lips. 

You grabbed the door knob with her, “What are we waiting for then?!” 

Mirabel laughed.

~~

The next week went on with the Madrigal family settling back into the Castillo with as much grace and understanding under the new miracle Mirabel had created. Unfortunately, because Mirabel was the creator of this miracle you found yourself not her personal servant as often anymore. It meant you had to resume the extra duties of head of servitude (which, admittedly, were not as fun as goofing around with Mirabel all day). 

You usually wake her up most days. It meant a good morning routine and a great way to start off the day as she would sing while you fixed her hair and tended to her curls. Her eyes would scrunch behind her glasses as you scolded her for being such a “wiggly worm” and “oruga tonta”.

So often her Majesty the Queen Alma Madrigal would come into Mirabel’s room in the morning. You would have to take a step back as your mistress would run up to her abuela and kiss her cheek and ask her how she slept. It was clear that they had repaired their relationship and were eagerly growing it as the days went on. 

“Might I borrow the room, miss?” Reina Alma had asked of you on the first morning back in the saddle. 

You bowed, “Yes your su Majestad,” You kept your head down in proper etiquette with your hands placed together at your midsection, walking past the queen with kindness. 

You were anxious. Mirabel was whisked away more and more by her grandmother, and while you were so excited for her you knew what it meant. Less time with you! What you saw as your little sister was finally growing up and it pained you a little. You didn’t know why. You practically felt like her second mom. You watched her grow from lost in the world to understanding her place. 

Perhaps you wished to continue to have that life guidance for her. It gave you a lot of meaning. 

When Mirabel was advising her grandmother, you busied yourself with the other tasks demanded of your head of servitude job. That included but was not limited to meal preparations, cleaning, making beds, washing laundry, explaining to Camilo that he has to understand that he cannot go into the female servants quarters even if he was “technically a female servant right now”, and finding meaningless ways to make even more spaces within the Castillo aesthetically appealing. 

There were a few times in that week you would reorganize a room just for the heck of it to give you some purpose, and Castillo’s tiles and walls would shift, rattling and making a satisfying domino effect, pushing the furniture back into its proper places. This was often accompanied by a sigh, because you knew Castillo could tell you weren’t doing it for your job, but rather, for your own fulfillment. 

It was getting boring. You loved your job, but it seemed without purpose. Mirabel was growing up and doing what she was born to do- be the real miracle. 

You found yourself often going back to Julieta or Agustin during this time to assist them- Agustin because he was always clumsy and needed help with something, Julieta because you could never shake the feeling that she felt like “mom”. About halfway through the week, an interesting conversation happened in the kitchen. 

“Agustin appreciates the attention you’ve been giving him despite the fact he already has three personal servants to keep him out of trouble,” Julieta smiled at you, her down turned brown eyes warm as you mixed dough, her hands busy kneading it. 

A lot of servants helped her cook, and they all bustled around with ingredients and bowls and utensils of all kinds. The smell in the kitchen was amazing, absolutely estupendo. 

“Of course la dama, anything to help the amazing Madrigals,” You replied, smiling at her work. What a unique gift. All she needed to do was lay her hands on the food at some point or another in the process and have it possess that healing power. 

“You might need to get used to it,” Daniela, a kitchen maid, skidded past, only a few years older than you. She put a bowl into the oven, using the fireplace poker to make sure the heat stayed consistent on the food, “I’ve heard Mirabel and her Majesty Reina Alma are getting close. Almost like she is her heiress.” 

You paused, shooting her a glance as Julieta chuckled and shook her head a little, “Mamá still has some kick in her and Mirabel is still only a child, una adolescente, she’s just 15. That won’t be happening soon.” She looked down, and you noticed despite her words she had a giant, proud, motherly smile on her face for her daughter. Always in her corner, just like you. 

“Still,” María, the second kitchen maid and Julieta’s own personal servant, butted in, “Soon to become a royal advisor I’m sure of it.” The older woman set a cutting board down and began to carefully chop up some fresh cilantro, “Perhaps even her own personal asesora real, considering all the advice she's giving Her Reina already,” María sounded more logical, as if stating the simple facts. She glanced up to look between you and Julieta.

“Probably due to be on the royal court this week alone,” Daniela chirped, ever the dramatic gossiper. 

“I’d hope,” You burst, finally speaking up. You beat the liquids and powder in the bowl in front of you with much unbridled vigor that it became mixed as one within seconds, touching the rim and coating one of your thumbs with the batter, “After all these years pushing her to the wayside they finally recognize her talent- oh no! No longer a pequeña oruga, eating up resources and an unpleasant sight. But no, now she's a una hermosa mariposa, glowing with a new miracle… As if she wasn’t already and wasn’t that always!” 

The kitchen completely stills. Both maids and her majesty Juileta all stare at you and the paused image of your aggressively beaten batter and downcast gaze. 

You take your hands off the bowl, lower your head so your scalp is visible to the royal Madrigal in the room, bowing with your hands clutched at your midsection, “I beg your pardon mi señora, I don’t know what got into me.” 

Julieta gives you a small, sympathetic look. She nodded to her two other maids, and both resumed their duties as if not being bothered at all. She turned to you, putting a gentle, caring hand on your tense shoulder, “My dear, levanta la cabeza,” she put a hand under your chin and tilted it up to meet her eyes, “Let’s have a moment, shall we? To the pantry, let’s go.” 

Julieta led you with a hand on your back in the most mothering way you could imagine, whispering, “Danos un momento, ladies,” to her maids as she took you into the pantry closet, closing the door behind her. 

The smell of spices, fresh herbs, and dried meats and proteins hit your nose the moment you were inside. You turned to her majesty, scrambling, “I’m so sorry. I feel she is slipping away from me-” 

“Shh! Shh…” Julieta gently calmed you, rubbing soothing circles on your back, “Honey, I would know how you’re feeling. I’m her mother. Mirabel deserves this, yes, but it feels so whip-lashed for sure.. One moment she comes crying to your side and now she is the heart of the Encanto, what keeps the magic breathing and alive..” she gazed proudly at nothing in particular, before blinking rapidly and looking back at you. “But I know you, and I know this is more than that.” 

You sigh softly, “I just… if she moves on, gets all this power and fulfillment… mine will go. What will I do as my job? Will I ever be happy in my job again?” You shrug then turn your head to the side, not meeting Juileta’s gaze, “Would I have to resign as head of servitude? Leave my job?” 

“Gracious mija! Calm down…” Julieta frantically grabbed one of your hands, making your head turn back to her. 

She gave a worried look, lips pursed and one corner pushed up. Her warm chocolate colored eyes gazed at you for a moment, making sure you were calm and adding extra comfort by being warm and assuring, before she continued to speak, “We all love you here in the Castillo.” She squeezed your hand softly, “If you were to leave I’m sure the other servants and half of the Madrigal’s ourselves would riot-“

This caused you to laugh a little, making Julieta’s smile grow a little bigger. She went on, “You were destined for this, I held you in my hands as an adorable bebita right here in the walls of the El Castillo de Encanto, and you love it! Why leave?” 

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen and I feel out of control,” you breathed, rushing it out as you gazed at Julieta genuinely. Your brows were furrowed so tight in fear of the admittance and the vulnerability you were in at that moment. You knew your forehead wrinkles probably look ridiculous looking back on it. 

Julieta stared at you a moment, her eyes almost looking confused before they lit with a spark of understanding, “Ah…” She brought you in for a hug, “Oh mija… do not carry that on your shoulders… you were a little girl… there was no way you could control anything…”

You knew she was talking about your mom and dad. 

“You think… that’s where this started?” 

“Yes bebita,” she pulled away from the hug with a small smile, “It was how your mother and father coped too. When they were stressed they ran to control.. rules and order. Sí, I think that’s it for you. You like to feel in control because you felt so out of control when that happened. I’m letting you know right now you can relax, honey. The Madrigal’s and Mí Sobregoneta Familia will always take care of you. Come, come, let’s finish cooking dinner-“ 

You nodded, trying to lean into her words. It made sense in your head but your stomach felt uneasy still. However, logically you knew her majesty was right. Julieta could read you as if you were one of her own daughters. 

By the time dinner had been served your rapidly beating heart had quieted and your mind was at a little bit more ease. 

However, your boredom and lack of personal servitude would soon come to a screeching halt.

~~

“I now announce you as his majesty Bruno Madrigal’s personal servant.”

Queen Alma Madrigal was smiling with her chin up, crown glistening, and back straight with each of her hands placed together in front of her. 

You looked similar. A perfect straight back with knees slightly bent in a bow and knuckles white from gripping your hands together at your middle. However, you didn’t have a smile. You knew your eyes were big and face drained of color. 

That morning started out how it usually did. How it always did. Waking Mirabel up and singing with her as you gently put oils into her curly hair. You decided to brush it back and keep the top of her hair in a cute little ponytail. The sun was warm, and her giggles were sweet, and she had no malicious intentions in her eyes behind those green glasses while she excitedly exclaimed she had a surprise for you.  

When Reina Alma entered the room you bowed as you usually did, not a wrinkle in your skirt nor a stutter in your posture.  However, it was when they both opened their mouths and had you rise from your bow that things got very very off schedule. 

More so, completely flipped around. 

And now her majesty Queen Alma Madrigal has assigned you a whole new job after the one you had exclusively been in since you were a teenager. 

“Oh geez please don’t look like that!” Mirabel walked over to you and grabbed your upper arms, making you look at her. She gave her usual dorky smile, “This is literally perfect for you!” 

“Mí mijo,” Alma stepped forwards, whispering as she took a more casual stance with you- something so surprising since the Queen really, really cared about her royalty and the whole strict regime that went with it, “He’s… Struggling. He is always late to family dinner. He’s not getting up on time. He’s too nervous to use his gift and to go out into town. We have tried what we can to convince him, and he…” she stopped, swallowing, looking at her granddaughter. 

The bright butterfly continued for her royal family member, “He refuses a personal servant. I think he’s just shy. Maybe embarrassed. And probably really scared.” She smiled at you softly, pushing up her glasses and continuing, “He really needs some order and routine right now.” 

Okay, now she was clearly trying to cater to you. 

Queen Alma stepped forward and stooped down a little to your eye level so you could see her scalp, placing her royal, magical hand on your shoulder and it made you feel so humbled. However, she herself humbled instead, looking into your eyes and meekly begging, “You did such a wonderful job making sure Mirabel grew up, despite my best efforts, knowing she was good enough and could be happy.” You relished a little bit in how the Queen openly admitted her faults when it came to Mirabel, and you relished even more in the small, soft, warm smile the two shared after her words. “You are so talented and wonderful at what you do. You clearly care for the El Castillo de Encanto, the magic itself, and our family. Extend your helping hand to me, once again, but allow me to ask for the betterment this time,” Alma moved to stand up straight, putting her hand under your chin with her fingers curled in so only the knuckle of her pointer finger gently nudged your chin upwards too, “Mí Brunito needs you. I believe your magic touch-“ her lips curled in a small smile making you smile too- “will break him out of his shell and let him relax in his new life. I want more than anything to let my son know he is valued by the Encanto, by our blessing, by our family, and more so, to be proud of himself the way I am now so much more proud of him.” 

You let out a sigh exclusively from your nose, shutting your eyes for a moment. 

Everything made sense. You had to let go of Mirabel. She is grown up now. You were being put in a position where you were needed most. 

You thought of your dad. How he used to take care of Bruno. How he implored people to be kinder, how he saw his master and friends true nature and how it deeply distressed him when nobody would see it too. 

You thought of what happened when Bruno disappeared.

You opened your eyes. You wanted to fulfill the legacy set before you by two people just as loving and passionate as you were. 

You have a small nod, looking between both of the Madrigals, “I would be honored to take his majesty Bruno Madrigal as my master.” 

Both of them smiled. Soon, there were four arms wrapped around you in a hug.

In the distance you heard the faint noise of sand in the wind.

Fair warning, future chapters will have smut. 18+ I will tag it when it's appropriate Correct me on any spellings, bad grammar, and ESPECIALLY on poor translation. Thoughts? Feelings? If you have none: what kind of royal would *you* be?

[justin-peudeau]

With the terrible fucked up royal bloodline come the terribly fucked up servant bloodline !!!

So it's still the hc of Theta and Longhi being sisters and Mark being their cousin.

Honestly, I LOVE brainriotting about how they cause natural disaters by trying to solve things in their own weird intellectual. OF COURSE nothing happens like it was suppose to. So they will rarely concert each other secretely with special code messages just to have the other point of view on the matter. (But they will never entirely listen to their advices. They are siblings. Who fully listen their siblings anyway 🙄.)

Sometimes, the message will be literally an urgent summon request and the chosen person knows they have -like- 3 min to:

- makes an excuse to leave whatever extremely important duty they were doing

- prepares back up materials

- sprints like crazy toward the indicate spot (without being notice by anyone)

- saves the summoner's ass from whatever collosal shit they put themselve in

- heal and clean themselves

- get ride of the corpses (yes there would always have one corpse, the alive body wasn't cooperative anyway)

- come back to their duty like if they just take the most innocent piss on the nearby toilet

I think the one who gets the most requests is Mark. He have the most free time, work alone often and have the best communication skill. So he can make the best excuses pretty easily if none at all. He is a perfect bait and a professional manipulator. However, he is not a good fighter.

The one who is excellent for mass murder without making a mess is Longhi (Furikov said that only a super trained assassin can restrained their aura like she did). With her, bloody bussiness are erased as efficiently as an unfortunate messed up line you made in Clip Studio Paint. However she have a REALLY thight shedule and none of her colleagues knows about her double identity, so she can't make excuses often or be off duty for too long.

The best strategist is of course my beloved Theta. She can kick asses pretty easily and have a surrounding who can always back her up if she is absent for too long since she is the head of her body-guards team. It helps A LOT for excuses. Plus Tser-ride-some-dick often treat her like a queen in a chessboard. So she does many solo missions, sometimes along side Sarkov. So she doesn't have a superior eyes on her often. However, she IS the one who put herself in shitty situations the most 😂. (Sarkov doesn't help that much)

In order of shit-making you have :

Number 1 : (by far) Theta

Number 2 : (mess around but doesn't ask for help often) Mark

Number 3 : (is incredibly model compared to the other 2, but she is unpredictible in exceptional situations) Longhi

Finally, they are still smart as fuck, so the shitty situations they put themselves are often 13-dimensional-25x25-rubik's-cube-'s type of problems. Only 400 IQ crazy people like them can resolve it without to much casualities.

[holybibly]

𝔐𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔈𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 | Seonghwa x reader

Pairing: Emperor Seonghwa x Virgin Bride reader Summary: You dreamed that your love would be like a cherry blossom - tender and beautiful, but instead you are going to get married to the Great Emperor of the Park Dynasty - the cruel and depraved "Lunar Dragon" Park Seonghwa.

Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, s2l, Royal!AU, Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 11.6 k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, deflowering, corruption kink, first time, virgin kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: Bunnies, as promised, I am going to spoil you with something absolutely glorious and wicked at the same time. Elegant depravity, that's what this is. Although I struggled to make this work, it has turned out to be absolutely amazing. I hope you're going to love Emperor Seonghwa as much as I love him. Have fun, bunnies, tonight is the night of the fall of the stars.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing

"Mom, I'm so frightened..." You barely whisper as you sit in front of the luxurious, heavy, gold-framed mirror as servants scurry about you, combing your long, jet-black hair and gathering the smooth, silky tresses into a traditional wedding hairstyle. Massive gold jewelry set with rubies and topaz framed your head and secured your long scarlet veil—the veil of a virgin bride. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with large, wide-open eyes full of anxiety, your hands trembling nervously as you clasped the thin silk of the white robe in your lap. Your whole body was slightly shuddering with a sense of fear and dread that bound your chest like stems of icy roses full of sharp thorns, which wrapped around your delicate, pale bones and prevented you from taking a full breath. It was so natural to be afraid, not only of the fact that in a few hours you would be the wife of a great and powerful man, a man who had power over everything in your world—the greatest emperor of the Park Dynasty, "Lunar Dragon" Seonghwa—but also of your first wedding night. 

"You should be proud of the fact that the Great Emperor has chosen you out of a million other girls, Y/N. His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa wants you and only you, and you must obey his wish without questioning and be the wife he would admire. You have my meaning, Y/N." Your mother said. She looked at the magnificent crimson robe, richly embroidered with gold thread, that the Emperor had chosen for you. The robe was magnificent, a perfect embodiment of His Majesty's exquisite taste and the ancient traditions of the ruling Park dynasty. Only surpassed by the brilliance of the great stars themselves and the hypnotic glow of Emperor Seonghwa's dark feline eyes were the stars and moons embroidered on the seemingly endless tail of your wedding gown. "After all, the empress must be a virgin when she ascends the throne; that is the tradition, and your purity and chastity will give the emperor a strong heir." Your mother's voice was calm and unemotional. It was as if she were talking about the most mundane of things, not your virginity. 

Your mother had explained to you many times how things were going to go down on your wedding night. She hadn't gone into great detail, only saying that you should do your best to please the Emperor. But now you had a good idea of what would happen when you were alone with the Seonghwa, and it couldn't help but frighten you. 

The marriage contract between your family and the ruling Park dynasty was made almost immediately after the birth of the current Emperor Seonghwa. Your family had many daughters, each one more beautiful than the one before. You never thought that you, the youngest of them all, would be the future wife of the Emperor. You had only met Seonghwa once, and then only briefly, remembering only his blowing in the wind silk robes, turquoise, and his long hair, the most beautiful shade of sakura blossom. 

But you have heard many gossipy stories about Seonghwa, and they filled you with fear and kept you awake at night. 

He was a cruel ruler—overbearing, selfish, proud, and arrogant. And Seonghwa was also absolutely insatiable; all the servants in the palace whispered about what a huge sexual appetite the emperor had and that his poor virgin bride would not be able to properly satisfy his hunger and desires. He had a huge harem of girls and handsome, exquisite young men who rotated in and out of His Majesty's chambers with an enviable frequency. Seonghwa never fucked the same concubine more than once. He could point his finger at anyone who interested him, and that person would be in his bed in no time. And tonight you will have to share his bed, and unlike the concubines who spend the night with him and then disappear into the luxurious gardens of the harem to continue their lives, you will have to stay by his side until death do you part, serving and worshipping him as your emperor and husband. And, of course, you will have to provide him with an heir—preferably more than one.

The purpose of your life is the continuation of the dynasty. 

You were intensely jealous of all your sisters, who were free to choose their husbands, who were free to marry for love, now that you would be the bearer of the unbearable burden of the crown. You never asked for it; you never wished for it. Seonghwa was extremely wealthy; he was the most powerful ruler in the world. He enslaved and conquered lands as if it were child's play. Even though the Emperor showered you with jewelry and gave you lavish gifts to marry, you didn't care. He would never love you, and you couldn't imagine a world where you could have love and desire for a man who knew nothing but the flames of war and debauchery. 

"I'm very scared of him, Mum..." You said again as you watched one of the maids place a golden hairpin set with a black onyx into your hair, given to you by one of the Seven Great Generals of Seonghwa, Choi San.

The dark-eyed demon had given it to you personally this morning, and looking at the man's otherworldly beauty, you couldn't help but think of the rumors that the generals were bound to Seonghwa not only by the battlefield and the hot blood that ran down their arms like scarlet rivers, but also by the silk sheets of the emperor's bed. And perhaps the devilish gleam in San's eyes as his plump, soft lips pressed sensuously against your wrist in a sign of respect meant that you would be able to confirm or deny the rumor in no time at all.

Right now, all you wanted was for your mother to make everything better for you, to spare you from the fears and terrible thoughts that swirled around in your head like a swirl of falling sakura petals, the color of which reminded you of Seonghwa's hair. You were a grown girl, hours away from becoming Empress, but there was a small part of you that longed to be safe and comforted by your mother. You wished with all your heart that she would be able to make Emperor Seonghwa change his mind and choose one of your sisters instead of you.

But it was impossible to do that. No one in this world had the right to go against the wishes of the great Emperor 'Lunar Dragon' Park Seonghwa. He chose you without even bothering to explain why, simply pointing his finger at you as you spent time with your sisters in the Imperial Garden during one of your family's visits to the palace. 

"She will be my Empress. She will be mine." Seonghwa said, and you saw the eyes of your mother glisten with tears that had not been shed.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Your mother whispered to you. "But perhaps the Emperor will be a good husband. If he wants to have strong and healthy heirs, he'll have to treat you well."

Your mother tried so hard to be brave for you, and you were forever grateful to her for that. In your family, it was always believed that a man had to treat his wife well if he wanted her to bear him a large number of children. And your father really did idolize her, judging by the fact that your mother gave birth to nine children. You could only hope that Emperor Park would follow this wisdom, but you really had doubts that Seonghwa would make any effort to honor and follow your family's traditions. He probably didn't care about anything except increasing his power and satisfying his animal sexual desires. 

Seonghwa was a true dragon, not only by blood but by nature. A predatory beast dressed in silk robes and glittering jewels. 

"I will do my best to please him." You murmured, and you immediately heard the soft chuckle of a maid tucking a veil into your hair. You cast an angry glance at the slender girl, and her cheeks flushed in an instant. But you could understand the reason for her laughter. What pleasure could a virgin give an experienced and lecherous emperor, whose luxurious bed was warmed by the most beautiful and seductive girls and boys in the empire? 

It was a bit of a delusion on your part to wish for that. Most likely, Songhwa would see you as just another beautiful thing in his collection, spending the rest of your life bearing children and sitting on a velvet cushion. Once the wedding ceremony was over, you would be nothing more than his next great conquest. 

"Give me your hand, My Lady." Another of the maids spoke to you politely, and you reluctantly held out your cold palm to her. The girl carefully placed a heavy gold bracelet on your wrist, engraved with a dragon with rubies glinting ominously in its eyes; it was more like a shackle, another gift from the General, this time given to you by the magnificent Kim Hongjoong. 

As you knew, Hongjoong was not only one of the seven generals and Seonghwa's confidant, but also his close childhood friend, with whom he grew up and shared everything in his life. Hongjoong was also the one who visited you more often than the other generals. He had a devilish gaze and a sly curve of blood-red lips, and he instilled in you the same animal terror as Seonghwa himself. You thought that everything he touched or said had an ulterior motive, and frankly, you didn't really want to know the true meaning of his actions, but the smile he gave you last night when he handed you the bracelet left you no choice. Sooner or later, you will find out, but by then, it will be too late to try to escape the Golden Emperor's cage. Your life, like your body, will belong to Seonghwa from now on. 

You swallowed hard as the maids began to remove the robe from your shoulders. It exposed your sun-untouched skin. 

"My Lady, it is time..." 

You could hear your mother sobbing softly as the bloody silk flowed down your body. She seemed to be holding back the tears from all of them for your sake. Your heart was beating faster, and your fingers were starting to tremble. You were only a few hours away from your inevitable destiny and several miles of ceremonial procession, at the end of which would be the Great Lunar Dragon, Seonghwa Park.

The anxiety of it all almost made your stomach hurt. 

The wedding ceremony was grand; your golden palanquin was carried solemnly down a street strewn with flowers and silk ribbons to the cheers of the crowd welcoming their new Empress. The flash of his cherry blossom hair and the firm, possessive palm of his hand that took yours before leading you up the great staircase 'to heaven' are all you can remember of Seonghwa. It was all a blur to you—the rich scent of incense and flowers making your head spin and a nervous knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your hands were cold in the Emperor's hot palms as you made your marriage vows. Your lips trembled as you swore to be his precious wife and to carry the burden of a great empire on your shoulders as his Empress. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

Songhwa's soft, velvety voice whispered in your ear, "You belong to me.". 

Nothing in the universe could have prepared you for his kiss - fiery, passionate, and hungry, it seemed as if Songhwa wanted to drink your soul through that kiss, to consume you whole, to turn your will and your desires to ashes. You heard the rapturous cheers of the seven generals and other cronies of the ruling Park dynasty. The Emperor's graceful palm encircled your neck from behind and pulled you closer to him. Your knees buckled, and you could barely breathe as Songhwa's long, hot tongue took possession of your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue and sliding across your palate and the inside of your cheeks. His thumb pressed lightly against the pulsing vein in your neck, your pulse racing beneath his soft fingertip as his teeth dug into your plump lower lip, almost biting to the blood. 

You wanted to scream in pain, but there were too many people around—too many angry tongues dripping venom—just waiting to start gossiping about you. So instead, you tried to distract yourself from the pain and focus on something else.

But instead, your eyes were captured by the seductive gaze of the siren belonging to none other than General Jung Wooyoung. His full, sensuous lips parted as if he were enjoying the kiss itself, the sharp tip of his tongue sliding across the soft, red flesh of his lower lip, leaving him glistening and moist. You had the feeling that his dark, almost black eyes were gliding over your body. His gaze was shamelessly undressing you, while his friend, his Emperor, was devouring your mouth with a hungry, passionate kiss. You looked away in shame and embarrassment.

When Seonghwa finally let go of you and allowed you to take a long-awaited deep breath, you felt like you were going to faint. Just a small glimpse of what awaited you on your wedding night sent shivers of fear down your spine. 

"You belong to me. Forever." Seonghwa whispers again, and you have a full understanding of the meaning of his words. Yes, you really do belong to him right now.

When it's time for you to leave the ceremony and prepare for your first wedding night, you almost start to gasp. You catch San's dark, demonic gaze as he leans over to whisper something into General Kim's ear. His words cause Hongjoong's blood-red lips to curl into an evil, almost devilish grin. Even through the many layers of heavy silk, you can feel the flames of his gaze burning through your skin. 

"Your Majesty..." You turn your head to the side, only to find yourself facing the goddess Aphrodite herself, in the form of a man. General Kang Yeosang has always held a special place in your heart. Gentle and elegant like an exotic flower, his speech always soft and soothing, and his deep, velvety voice like the call of a chamois. Seonghwa's hair may have been the color of delicate sakura petals, and his eyes may have been brighter than all the stars in the endless midnight sky, but that was just a facade to hide the lustful and cruel devil that lurked inside. Yeosang, on the other hand, in spite of his wicked beauty, was the very embodiment of an angel. You will have heard the servants of the palace call him the Black Swan of the Empire. 

Yeosan's soft and gentle nature might have reassured you and even given you some semblance of comfort before Seonghwa ravaged your body and took what was now his—your virginity. But the sensual curve of his plump lips and the hungry glint in the dark eyes of the siren, General Jung Wooyoung, who now extended his palm to you in an inviting gesture, sent an icy shiver down your spine. You rarely saw Wooyoung, and when you did, there was always a decent distance or several other people between you, so you had never felt his presence as close as you did now, and you had never been so fascinated by the sharpness of his face or the small mole under his eye, and this feeling frightened you as much as it frightened Seonghwa and Hongjoong. 

"Your Majesty, it's time for you to go." As he turned to you, Wooyoung's voice was sultry and hoarse. It made you feel as if the flames themselves were licking at your body or at the lips of your lover in the heat of a forbidden caress. 

"I...my maids should see me out. General Jung, thank you." You bite your lip nervously and look around, hoping to find your maids and avoid the two generals' eyes on you, but instead you see Seonghwa watching you intently, his head tilted slightly to the side, a few soft pink strands falling onto his gorgeous face. If he could only have a breath, it would be majestic. Seonghwa was indeed the true embodiment of the divine Lunar Dragon.

"His Majesty, the Emperor Seonghwa, has ordered us to escort you to his chambers in person." It was Yeosang's voice this time. Something about the way he said your husband's name aroused you, and not in the most pleasant way.

"I... I'm not quite sure, General Kang." You have an almost pathetic look on your face, an attempt to delay the inevitable, and to be honest, you had no desire to be in the company of any of the seven illustrious generals right now. 

Wooyoung just grinned mischievously at your words, obviously finding you very amusing. As he leaned closer, his lips almost touched your earlobe, and you could smell the scent of sandalwood emanating from his caramel skin. 

"Don't make him wait, dear. Seonghwa is an impatient and passionate lover; the longer you resist him, the harder he will be with you, and we don't want a jewel like you to be injured, do we?" 

"Stop it, Wooyoung; you're scaring her." Yeosang hisses, but does nothing to contradict the words of General Jung. 

You swallow noisily and silently place your cold, clammy palm in Wooyoung's hand, letting him and Yeosang escort you to the Emperor's quarters. The last thing you notice as you leave the Ceremonial Hall, where the noisy festivities of the Imperial Wedding will continue until dawn, is the sensual curve of Seonghwa's luscious, plump lips as he smiles at you and the glimmer of ominous rubies in the eyes of the golden dragon on the very same bracelet you wear on your arm, jingling on Hongjoong's slender wrist as he lazily waves goodbye to you.

"You don't have to worry that hard, Y/N." Wooyoung says as he pulls the heavy silk of your wedding gown off your shoulders, and you might have resented the familiarity with which he addressed you if you hadn't felt the glide of his fingertips over your bare skin. The whole situation was confusing, to say the least. Completely beyond any conscious explanation, two great generals of the Empire are now acting as your personal maids, helping you change your dress, removing your jewelry, and unraveling the intricacies of your wedding hairstyle.

Letting them treat you like a doll, undressing you layer by layer, and exposing more and more of your body to their dark gaze, you didn't know how to react or what to say. Wooyoung's breath was hot on the back of your neck, while Yeosang's cold fingers brushed over your collarbones as he removed the massive gold necklace. They continued their actions until you were left in the thin white dress that was the base of your outfit, and the only jewelry you wore was a black onyx stud given to you by San and, as it turned out, a paired bracelet from Hongjoong. 

"Everything will be alright, Your Majesty." Yeosang gently ran his thumb over your wrist, the feel of your pulse racing under his touch. He liked the fact that he was making you nervous; your reaction brought a smile to his beautiful lips. Wooyoung's arms wrapped around your waist for a second, and his firm, hot chest pressed tightly against your back. You could swear you could feel his heart beating through your skin at that moment; he was so close to you. 

"We will leave you now, my... Empress." It was almost as if he whispered the last word into your skin. "Enjoy your night." His touch was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, and you could feel the cold air of the room now caressing you as General Jung's hot body moved away from you. 

"Try to relax and let Seonghwa take care of you; I promise nothing terrible will happen to you." Yeosang leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on your cheek before following Wooyoung out of the room, leaving you all alone—completely confused, frightened, and not knowing what to expect from Seonghwa if his generals could afford to treat you like this. 

"Lunar Dragon" - the great Emperor Park Seonghwa is standing in front of you. His luxurious long hair, the colour of sakura petals, was still partially gathered on his head by long crystal hairpins. Teardrop-shaped crystals were dangling from them. He had replaced his heavy ceremonial robes with a light mantle of the most beautiful snow-white silk you've ever seen - dragons embroidered in silver and turquoise danced on the fabric like in the clouds. You can see his naked, chiseled torso, his muscular chest rising and falling to the rhythm of his measured breathing. Seonghwa's appearance is completely relaxed, but everything about him is a scream of the majesty and power he has over this world. He notices the way your eyes slide down his body, his lips curling into a satisfied, smug grin. You blush and lower your eyes to the floor.

Your heart is beating at breakneck speed against your ribs, and you have the feeling that Seonghwa can easily hear the sound. Your mother told you that you might feel aroused when you were alone with the Emperor, that you would want to touch his body, taste his lips, feel his hot hands on you, and maybe even feel his mouth on your private parts, but you... you didn't want to. You didn't feel aroused at all. You were afraid of Seonghwa, and after what Wooyoung had said to you in the ceremonial hall today, you were even more afraid of him, and no amount of assurances from Yeosang that everything would be all right could change your mind. You were afraid to even look him in the eye, and you clutched the fabric of your dress nervously in your hands, trying to calm yourself.  

"My Emperor, are you going to hurt me today?" You were so stupid, good Lord, you couldn't think of anything else to say? Apart from the wedding vows, these were the first words you'd ever spoken to him directly, and you couldn't think of anything else to say: "Will you hurt me?" For some strange reason, you expected that after the wedding you would magically feel like a different person, that after saying your vows, your animal fear of Seonghwa would disappear. It didn't happen at all. You continued to feel frightened and ignorant, and completely at the mercy of the Emperor.

You could feel the weight of his heavy, hypnotic gaze on your skin as he silently scanned your body through the thin, transparent dress that you wore. He was looking at you shamelessly and greedily, and it only served to increase your fear. Seonghwa's long fingers cupped your chin and lifted your face. The soft pad of his thumb is pressed against your lower lip. You hesitantly met his gaze, your eyes instantly held hostage by the magnetic, bottomless eyes of the Emperor. Sharp and soft, demonic and angelic, sparkling like eternal stars and impenetrable like the thickest darkness, you had never met anyone with such eyes. His almost black irises flickered like flames, as if they were absorbing the glow of the candlelight. 

"Is that the way you are supposed to address your husband, hmm? Call me by my name." Seonghwa's command to you. The sound of his voice was like liquid silk. Seonghwa grabbed your chin with his graceful hand and tilted your head even higher. You had to strain your neck to hold his gaze with your eyes. 

"M-my Emperor..." Your voice trembles, and in spite of the clear command, you say something completely different from what Seonghwa wants you to say. 

His finger presses harder against your lip, the sharp nail digging into the soft flesh in a painful way, and your mouth opens automatically. 

"I want to hear you say my name, my love. And you need to obey without questioning, darling. You don't want to upset me. Do you?" Seonghwa's tone of voice is still soft and velvety, but you can hear the small hint of a hidden threat in his words. And it is scaring the hell out of you right now. To be honest, you don't want to say his name at all. There's something about it that feels like an irreversible end, like if you say it out loud, you're going to lose any semblance of controlling your life. But there can be no disobedience, especially not now.

"Seonghwa." It's easier than you thought, but for some reason, his name still leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. 

He turns away from you, instead walking over to the luxurious bed and lowering himself smoothly onto it. The flaps of his robe swing further open, and the wide silk collar slides off his shoulders as he sits down on the soft feather bed. You can't help but admire the Emperor for a moment as strands of pink hair fall across his handsome face. 

His eyes narrowed predatorily for a second. His gorgeous, god-like face takes on a sharp, animal beauty, but it's only for a moment before his expression becomes majestically relaxed again. 

"There you are, good girl." His praise is as condescending as if he were addressing one of the many maids in the palace instead of his Empress. Without taking his eyes off you, Seonghwa pushes his thumb fully into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue's soft, slippery surface. Your eyes widen at the action. "Lick it." He gives the order again, and you weakly run your tongue along the pad of his finger, leaving a thick trail of saliva on it. Then he pulls the finger out of your mouth, takes a step back, and, looking you in the eye, pushes the wet finger into his mouth. His plump lips close in an erotic way around the long appendage as he sucks weakly on it. Heat floods your whole face at this seemingly innocent act, but when Seonghwa does it, it looks so damn lewd and lascivious.

"Strip for me." Seonghwa's voice commands you.

The cold air of his chambers was now licking at your skin, causing your sensitive nipples to tense and swell in response. Embarrassed, you covered yourself with your arms and crossed your legs slightly to hide your pussy from the dark, burning gaze of the Emperor. At that moment, Seonghwa reminded you of a huge, contented cat that had gotten the cream. He leaned back slightly on his hands on the bed, arching his back and tilting his head to the side, making the muscles in his long, thin neck tense. Seductive wasn't a strong enough word to describe the way the Emperor looked right now. Depraved? Vicious? Devilish? Maybe it was all of those things at the same time. 

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. His command was clear and precise, and the fear of being completely vulnerable in front of him made your heart beat even faster. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the wide waistband of your dress. It had all happened so very quickly. Your mind had barely had time for a moment's reflection. You knew that it was best to obey him and not question what he wanted. Carefully, you unbuckled the belt, and the dress slid gently down your body before it spilled out in a puddle of silk on the floor at your feet. 

"I-I... do you like it?" You asked him. Your voice was barely above a whisper. God, it was so embarrassing. Would this happen every time you shared a bed with him? You lowered your eyes to the floor, unable to bear to look at his hungry, lustful gaze. 

"Ain't you a pretty little jewel, huh? It was so sweet of you to ask me that. Now take your hands away, so that I can see the whole of your pretty body."

His words caused you to let out a soft squeak, as you were completely shocked. It was humiliating, to say the least. It was one thing to be lying naked under someone else, but it was a lot more vulnerable to find yourself completely naked in the middle of the room. But there was no way you could forbid the Emperor to look at your body the way he wanted to. The words he had spoken earlier were still running through your mind: "You belong to me." So you obeyed him once more, even though everything in your heart was telling you not to. 

"What's a gem? Are you so embarrassed already?" Seonghwa laughed grimly as he looked at your naked body; his eyes lingered on your pussy as he sensually ran the tip of his long tongue over his plump, sensual lips. "Come closer to me, darling." 

God, it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, but obviously the Emperor had thought a lot about how to make you squirm without even touching you. You took a couple of steps forward until you were standing between his legs as they spread apart. 

"Now turn around for me." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, the velvety tone getting darker and more husky. Your face turned even more red, and your lips began to quiver. You slowly turned away from him so that he had a good view of your bottom. You could feel his predatory eyes on the small of your back and his greedy gaze on your crotch. You almost screamed as you felt his hands on your hips, pulling you down with all their might until you were sitting on the bed between his legs. Seonghwa pressed his body against your back, and it reminded you of Wooyoung, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when his hands cupped your breasts and his full lips were pressed against your ear. "You're supposed to please me, you know." He said. His hot breath flowed over the soft skin of your ear with each letter of the word he spoke. It sent a shiver down the length of your body. "Remember this." He squeezed your breasts roughly, causing you to give a soft whimper. 

"Yes, Your Majesty…" You breathed out.

Your breasts were terribly sensitive under his rough and skilled hands, and you were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you collapsed completely into his arms. You had no idea how pleasurable it could be; you'd never played with your boobs before. As Seonghwa's long fingers brushed lightly over your swollen nipples, a soft moan of pleasure escaped your open lips. 

"You're so sensitive, my little jewel, and that's what I love about virgins; you're all so sweet and shy, you blush and whimper at the slightest touch. But do you know what it is that I love the most?" Seonghwa asked you as he gently twisted your nipples with his long, thin fingers, making you moan and shake your head in a negative way. "Most of all, I love to see the look on their pretty faces when I stretch their tight little cunts with my big, thick cock. I love the sound of them moaning my name as they cum on my tongue." God, that was just too much. 

The combination of the Emperor's deep, hypnotic voice and how dirty and disgusting his words were almost made you whimper pitifully. His hands continued to play expertly with your heavy, plump tits, massaging and squeezing the flesh as his fingers tweaked and pulled at the hard, sensitive nipples. The tender skin of your breasts reddened under his firm grip. Unconsciously, you rested your head on his shoulder, becoming more and more lost in the sensation of his touch on your body. 

"But you are my shining star; you are special to me, unlike those whores who live only with the thought of being filled with Imperial sperm. They will never be able to stand in your shoes, and none of them will ever be the mother of my heir. None of them will ever be my Empress." One of his hands slid down your belly until his hot palm cupped your pussy in a possessive way. His long middle finger pressed between your labia to feel the moisture that had accumulated there. Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa pulled roughly on your nipple, his palm pressing even harder against your cunt. "I'm going to fuck that virgin pussy until your belly swells up with my heir." His lips brushed against your ear again, and he whispered in a sultry voice. "And maybe it won't just be mine, if you know what I mean." 

Seonghwa began to kiss your neck, leaving scorching, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His lips were plush and moist as they glided over the sensitive veins and nerves, which flowed in bluish, translucent rivers beneath the pallor of your skin. You moaned and unconsciously pressed your pussy harder against his hand as Seonghwa's teeth bit into a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. The Emperor ran the tips of his fingers along the silken folds of your cunt, the moisture clinging to his fingers.

"I-I...oh..." Endless moans echoed through the room as Seonghwa's finger pads pressed against your sensitive clit. The light pressure on the swollen bundle of nerves sent waves of pleasure through your body. 

"Can you feel it, my star? Do you have a sense of how swollen and wet your pussy is?" The Emperor's words caused another moan to escape your lips; your mind was hazy and distant, and Seonghwa's voice was luring you deeper and deeper into the trap of lust and pleasure. "I can feel your desire, my jewel; your little cunt wants to be filled with cock so desperately." He said. Lost in the sounds and sensations of your own body, your hips twitched as his fingers began to circle your clit. Your breathing came and went, each exhale punctuated by a soft moan of pleasure. "Your virgin pussy is throbbing under my touch, my little star. I want to see you sink into ecstasy; I want to see that shy, innocent facade shatter as you cum and wriggle under my touch." Seonghwa removed his hand from your breast, then wrapped his fingers around your chin, turning your head sideways so your lips met his. "Under my tongue." He whispered before you had the taste of his kiss for the second time that night. You were so mesmerized by the feel of the Emperor's soft, luscious lips on yours that you didn't notice him pressing his hips against you.

You were whimpering into his mouth as you felt the hard, hot length of his cock pressing down hard against your arse. Your eyes widened in fear, and your mouth opened to allow Seonghwa's tongue to enter your mouth and wrap around your tongue in a sensual way.

Seonghwa's kiss to you at the wedding ceremony was nothing in comparison to the kiss he was giving you now. The impossible, hot-tight, sinful, shameful, pleasure-filled kiss that made you gasp and whimper against his lips. A low, guttural moan escaped from his lips, becoming almost animalistic in nature as his fingers slid deeper and deeper between your folds. Seonghwa growls and pulls his lips away from yours, swollen and tortured after his caresses them. You moan loudly as his fingers circle around your clit, your juices making it slick and slippery, and that just adding the stimulation. Mindlessly, you buck your hips against his touch, and he lets you do it, enjoying how desperate you are already looking. The Emperor was right. Virgins are always so easy, too pliable, and eager to be touched. And you, his precious little Empress, are no exception. 

His eyes were the trap of vice, the bottomless pit of lust and wickedness, but you couldn't look away from them. They were lustrous and almost black, like the onyx in the jewelled hairpin San had given you. They seemed to penetrate your very soul, making you shiver. A seductive grin played across his devilishly handsome face as his fingers continued to play with your pussy, making it more and more wet and in need of attention. You gasped for breath as you felt your little hole squeeze on nothing, and a thick, gooey drop of slime poured out of you. 

"Ahm-aah...Your Majesty...ahhhh...Seonghwa." You were at a loss for words and had no formula. Pleasure curled up at the core of your being, and you rolled your eyes in delight. 

"Yes, that's right, my star. Does it feel good? Do you like it when my fingers play with your little virgin pussy, when you feel them on your throbbing, swollen clit?" He asked. The silk of his voice was a breath that was a tickle to your ear.

"Your Majesty... It's... It's so embarrassing." 

His eyes flashed with pleasure, and the grip he had on your face was like a vice grip. You felt his hips jerk forward, and he pressed his cock harder against the soft flesh of your ass. His excitement was obvious. Suddenly, his fingers stopped teasing the folds of your cunt. Seonghwa brought them to his mouth instead. His eyes sparkled like jewels, seductive and dangerous, as his long tongue darted out of his mouth to lick the viscous fluid that ran down the long appendages. 

"You're sweet—maybe too sweet for your own good." Seonghwa wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you closer to his beautiful face, so that his lips make contact with yours once more. "And there's something you should know about me, my star: I have a horrible sweet tooth." Instantly, he releases you from his grip and changes position so that you're on your back, spread out on the beautiful sheets, his lithe body hovering over you. His hair is completely disheveled, long strands of pink falling haphazardly across his face, and you can see a faint blush on his cheeks and his luscious lips, swollen from kissing and taking on a darker shade. God, he looks like a true deity, and you can see why they call him the 'Lunar Dragon'; mere mortals can never be so majestic and seductive; they are not given that magnetic pull that draws everyone to this dangerous creature like a moth to a flame. 

Seonghwa slides down your body until his hands are cupped around your thighs, pulling them apart so that your juicy, wet cunt is exposed to his hungry gaze. He runs his fingers gently down your thick, soft thighs, squeezing your flesh together for a moment, the sharp tips of his nails digging painfully into your thighs, and you make a squeal at the rough caress. It was a terrible shame to lie there, completely naked, with your legs spread wide open, while Seonghwa towered over you, still fascinating and powerful, even if he did look a little disheveled. And what was even more humiliating was that you were already so wet for him—your juices were constantly flowing from your hole and dripping between your cheeks onto the silk of the sheets—but you didn't have time to think about that when Seonghwa pressed down on your clit without warning, making you gasp loudly. You almost screamed, your legs twitching in a feeble attempt to squeeze together as he skillfully circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingernail lightly scraping the tender skin. 

"You have such a sweet little cunt, my star," Seonghwa whispered as he pushed your swollen labia apart to expose the soft pink inside. He bent his face over your pussy and let his hot breath flow over the sensitive flesh, causing even more fluid to spill out of your hole. "I will only say this once, my precious. You will be a good girl and take everything I give you. I will eat that sweet virgin cunt for as long as I want. If you dare to refuse, I will fuck you without any stretches at all, and believe me, unlike you, I am going to get a lot of pleasure when my cock rips that tight cunt in half. Do you understand me?"

"I-I, yes, I understand, Your Majesty." 

The first licks from Seonghwa's tongue on your juicy pussy made you arch your back and roll your eyes. The sensation was too overwhelming for your words. As soon as the Emperor had tasted you on his lips, he began to eat you with a hungry ferocity. Seonghwa plunged his tongue into your tight, wet hole, almost biting your tender, quivering folds, his teeth clawing at your swollen, sensitive clit, making you writhe and squirm as his hands gripped your thighs tighter. 

Seonghwa lived for the pussy, and he'd tasted a lot of it over the years, but your sweet virgin cunt tasted the best of all. His little Empress had the most amazing cunt of them all—a pussy that was worthy of an emperor. 

"I can't wait to get my tongue inside you, my star. Do you like it, my Empress? Tell me. Do you like my tongue in your slutty virgin pussy?" 

"Uh, huh... I... I... it feels so good... your Majesty..." You moaned.

Your viscous slime and his own saliva now coated Seonghwa's chin as his mouth pressed greedily against you, licking and lapping up all the juices flowing from you as if they were divine nectar. Your tight hole was twitching under the caress of his tongue, begging for filling. And who was he to refuse to give it to you? 

Seonghwa slid his finger into the throbbing warmth of your vagina, feeling the slight resistance of the muscles as the long appendage stretched your virgin entrance. He did it slowly, but you moaned in spite of himself as his finger filled you. His lips circled around your clit, slowly sucking at the sensitive cluster of nerves, and Seonghwa felt the warm, silky walls of your pussy tighten around his finger. 

"Y-Your Majesty... that's a lot... I" You found it hard to speak; hot excitement was flowing beneath your skin, making you helpless and pliable for him, but a sharp slap on your thigh made you cry out loudly. The mark of his hand bloomed like a rose on the milky surface of your skin. 

You continued to whimper as you responded to the rough and vulgar words the Emperor spoke to you. Not daring to take his eyes off the way your hole was absorbing them, Seonghwa added another finger. Your walls clenched around his fingers, trying to hold them in, even though the burning sensation of stretching made it difficult. To make it easier for Seonghwa to move his fingers in and out of your pussy, you tried to relax as much as possible. A lump of saliva landed on the top of your pussy and spread over your delicate folds. 

"My Name. I need you to moan out my name and nothing else, my star. I want to hear you say it out loud as I destroy you with my fingers and my tongue. Your hungry cunt swallows my fingers so well, my little 

Empress."

"Look at you, my star; you're so wet for me; you literally drip into my mouth. You are not so clean and pure any more, are you? Who would have thought that a beautiful lady would like to have her cunt licked?" The squelching of your wetness and Seonghwa's saliva as he slid two fingers in and out of your tight hole was loud and disgusting.  Seonghwa was mesmerized by the way your pussy clung to his fingers, his tongue circling the edges of your vagina, slipping inside slightly each time his fingers came out of you. 

You arch your back and feel a strange, crushing tension build up in your lower abdomen, and you clench the silk sheets in your fists. It's frightening, but somehow you have a desire for it to consume you completely. 

"Seonghwa, I... Oh God... I, I don't know, this feeling inside me..." Your breathing is ragged, with each word coming out of your mouth with difficulty. The Emperor lifts his hypnotic gaze up to you, his mouth still pressed against your pussy. His eyes are so dark and hypnotic—glimmering black stars in the lacy frame of his eyelashes—and you swear you see a flash of golden glow in them before it fades, leaving only lust and insatiable hunger. 

"My little Empress, you are about to cum for the first time, are you? Jewel, you must wait until I say so." Seonghwa growled as he squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh harder and harder, and you could already see the purple and black bruises that were beginning to form on your skin. "Your slutty cunt won't be able to come until I tell you to." You whimper pitifully at the command of authority in his velvety voice, your pussy clutching onto his two fingers. 

But Seonghwa doesn't seem to have had enough and decides to stretch you even further, trying to push a third finger inside you, causing you to squeal and jerk your hips in an attempt to avoid the stinging sensation inside you, but it has the exact opposite effect. Your abrupt movement forces his fingers deeper into you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside, and you gasp at the sharp sensation of delight that rips through you like a bolt of lightning. You are so lost in pleasure that you don't even notice the tip of his third finger as it enters you. 

Seonghwa is sucking on your clit in an almost lazy way, stretching and stimulating you at the same time. 

"S-Songhwa!" You almost start to cry, your eyes filling with tears from the mixture of feelings and emotions. This is too good to pass up, but at the same time, too much for you to bear. "Please, Seonghwa, Your Majesty." 

"Hmm, are you beggin' me already, my star? My little Еmpress, if you can't take my fingers, then you'll never be able to take my cock, and that is literally your only responsibility in life. To lie here in my bed and to fuck me like this. Your husband and your Еmperor. Seonghwa replies, licking the broad stripes between your trembling soft folds and pulling her fingers out of you to suck on your clenching, flowing hole. 

"I'm sorry... I'm t-trying to be a decent wife to you... I'm so sorry." You stutter. 

The Emperor slid three fingers back into your pussy, stroking your velvety walls and pressing the pads of his fingers against your G-spot as he did so. 

"You're so sweet, begging and crying like a pretty little girl, but you're not a girl anymore. You're my wife, my Empress, so be damned obedient to me and take everything I give you without objection." When he had finished speaking, his lips were around your exhausted clit again. 

"Oh, please, Seonghwa! P-please, I need...I want...please let me come...I promise I'll be so good to you." Tears streamed down your face as your whole body began to shake a little, and you lifted your hips to press even harder against Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa seems to have decided to spare you this time, enjoying how desperate and needy you look—all that crying and whining, and he hasn't even fucked you properly. But it's not over yet. 

"If you want it so badly, darling, you can cum." As soon as those words fall from his flushed, swollen lips, it feels as if your whole body is completely attuned to his every command or desire, and you arch up almost immediately, rolling your eyes and experiencing your first real orgasm on Seonghwa's long, slender fingers. Seonghwa lets out a deep, low moan as he watches you writhe in pleasure as he continues to finger-fuck you until you begin to whimper and beg him to stop.

"I'm not done with you yet, my star." Seonghwa whispers in a grim voice as he pushes his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You're almost incoherent at this point, shaking with excitement as he pulls his fingers out of you and crawls up your body to pull you into a hot, dirty kiss. His lips, chin, and cheeks are wet and sticky with your juices, but he doesn't care; he doesn't bother wiping, preferring to fuck your mouth with his tongue. 

As Seonghwa pulled away from your lips and allowed you to take a full breath, the look on his face took on that predatory animal look that you'd seen on him before tonight, and it was crystal clear to you what was going to happen next. Fear and excitement at the prospect of finally losing your virginity mix together in your heart. You weren't sure if the feeling was one of relief or horror, but your body was already on edge with anticipation. You could feel your stomach twist with desire and excitement, and you were absolutely shocked that your body reacted in this way even after an orgasm. 

"And now, my little Empress, I would like to show you what it means to be the wife of the Emperor. His beautiful cock sleeve." Seonghwa gets down from you, but only to take off his silk robe and to pull his trousers down over his long legs until he is completely naked. His hair is now completely loose, long strands the color of sakura petals falling freely over his shoulders and chest. You would want to admire how beautiful his face looks framed by his pink silk hair if your eyes weren't focused on his cock pressed against his flat, embossed belly. Like everything about His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa, his cock was just as magnificent and attractive: the hard, thick length was slippery and glistening with pre-cum flowing from the dark pink head, the vein bulging with tension stood out on its velvety girth, and overall, his cock made you inexplicably want to run your tongue over it and taste its flavor. You swallowed loudly, turning your head to the side, a crimson blush of embarrassment mixing with the lust that now filled your veins with something intoxicating and forbidden and spreading across your rounded cheeks. 

Your mouth opened to say something, but you quickly shut it when you noticed that he had raised his perfect eyebrow in a slightly mocking expression. His movements were slow and elegant as he crawled across the bed towards you like some mythical beast. Long fingers wrapped around your ankle before he pulled you towards him until his body was between your spread legs. He towered over you—magnificent, almost divine—making you feel small and fragile. Strands of his long, sakura-colored hair fell around his slender body. His smooth skin shimmered like liquid gold in the soft, diffused light of the candle.

His graceful hand slid up the curve of your thigh, caressing your soft skin where the marks of his possessive touch had already blossomed, and higher and higher until it reached your full breasts. Seonghwa squeezed your breast before running his fingers around the swollen pink nipple. A pitiful moan escaped your lips as his luxurious, juicy lips connected with another hardened bud and sucked it roughly into his hungry, beautiful mouth. You meowed in response, the new kind of stimulation causing you to arch your back in pleasure and unconsciously push your breasts closer to him. He purred velvetily, flicking his tongue over your tender nipple until it was glistening and wet from his attention. 

Without hesitating, the Emperor lifted his knee between your hips, forcing them to spread further apart, allowing him to slip between them. Your hands rose hesitantly and floated in the air for a second before you found them lying on Seonghwa's strong shoulders. His skin felt warm and soft under your fingers. Your body tensed, and a small cry escaped your parted lips as you felt Sonhwa's teeth bite into your chest, and soon a mark resembling a shining crescent moon formed where his teeth had been. Suddenly, the Emperor grabbed hold of your wrists and lifted your arms above your head, restricting your movements and locking you completely into the cage beneath his body. 

"And now you would like to touch me, my little Empress?" Seonghwa grinned grimly. "First of all, I want to take what is rightfully mine, my star. Beg me for it." He let out a growl. Like a dark, forbidden caress, the low, vibrating sound of his voice went through your body. The heavy, velvety length of his cock pressed against the inner side of your thigh. You wanted to run away, to hide from that bottomless, hypnotic gaze of lust and hunger, but at the same time you wanted more of him, to feel everything you'd never felt before. The thought of how Seonghwa would enjoy you, how he would use you for his own pleasure, and how he would make you his own, subjecting you to his will and his power, made you long for that feeling. You desperately wanted to belong to him.

"Please, my Emperor, Seonghwa, take me. I belong to you." You barely managed to whisper the words, but the Emperor was able to hear them clearly. Embarrassed, you turned away from him, exposing your slender, delicate neck. His hot body merged with yours as his head sank into the curve of your neck. The swollen, wet head of his cock pressed against your trembling pussy. He was still holding your wrists tightly above your head, his sharp nails digging into your skin, but your hips were lifting to meet him as Seonghwa moved forward, weakly, and rubbed the head of his cock against your clit. A low, languid moan escaped from his throat as your soft labia parted a little, allowing his cock to slide into the warmth of your wet cunt. 

"You are so impatient, darling. And that's another thing I like about virgins—once they've tasted pleasure, they stop controlling themselves and start asking for more. Look at you; you're so desperate for me to fuck you, little Empress. Can't you wait for my cock to be inside of you?" He looks so smug, his ego shining brightly in his dark eyes, and a lecherous smile has blossomed on his plump lips. Your natural essence thickly coats his thick cock, allowing it to slide easily through your warm folds, the head of his cock touching your sensitive clit with every move he makes. He is laughing at you, at the way your body is haunting him at every moment. Once again, the Emperor is proving you to be right—you really are hungry for more. You want to feel him all over you.

Seonghwa loves the way you look underneath him—your flushed face, wet from the tears you shed earlier from your orgasm, your skin covered with bruises and his bite marks, and of course, your wet little cunt begging to be filled to the brim with his cum. Maybe that's why he can't hold himself back any longer and slowly begins to push his cock into your oozing hole. You moaned loudly as his cock pushed deeper and deeper into you, and although you had been prepared for it, the way his thick girth stretched your silky walls made you squeeze your eyes shut and feel a slight burning sensation. Seonghwa's cock was too big and thick for you, at least for now, but somehow you didn't doubt that he was going to fuck you until you could easily take his whole length at once. 

When his cock was all the way inside of you and his balls were pressed against your plush arse, he let out a guttural, almost growling, moan as he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. Your cunt was everything he'd imagined—tight and hot and silky—divine. A small shiver of pleasure went through his body as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. Your answering moan was an unrestrained one, grateful for the hot, thick length of it as it displaced your emptiness, stained your chastity, took away your purity, and filled you instead with an insatiable need. 

He hardly gave you time to adjust to the size of his cock before he began fucking you mercilessly. Obscene sounds filled the air with each of his hard and deep thrusts, mingled with your whimpering and long moans, as well as his enthusiastic purring of satisfaction as he tormented you. His warm breath filled your mouth, forming a subtle contrast to the uncompromising demand of his tongue as it penetrated your mouth and tasted you as you moaned and whimpered. Seonghwa feels that he has become a little bit dependent on you and that he will probably never be able to satisfy this hunger that he now has for you. Your slippery pussy tightened around him impatiently and greedily, hot and wet, squeezing him so hard that Seonghwa let out a low moan of pleasure. 

Seonghwa lets go of your hands and wraps the palm of his hand around your thin neck instead, squeezing it lightly. His grip on your throat makes you gasp, and your moans are hoarse and soft.

"You are all mine." He growls, watching as his cock enters and exits your tight, pink cunt, a thick vein stretching along your silken walls with every movement of his beautiful and skilled hips. Seonghwa can't help but marvel at the way your juices are coating the velvety length of his cock as it plunges deep into you. Your hands dig into the sheets, crumpling the fabric between your fingers as you do so. "Who is your husband? Your Emperor? Tell me, my little star!" Seonghwa demands as she presses her fingers around your neck more tightly. 

"Y-y-you!" You screamed, but the sound of your voice was so distorted that it was barely audible. Your thighs began to ache from Seonghwa's relentless thrusts, but you didn't know if you wanted to ask him to stop when his cock kept hitting the most pleasurable spot inside you, making you feel every cell in your body heat up until it was white. Stars started to dance in front of your eyes, exactly the same—mesmerizingly sparkling stars like the ones in Seonghwa's eyes. "Seonghwa, that's you! You are my husband, my Emperor!"

"That's right, you treat me so well, my little Empress. I am going to fuck you until you are swollen with my heirs and until your little pussy is dripping with my cum day and night. My beautiful star, don't you think that we should give the seven great generals a taste of your divine cunt, as well? Let them saturate you, let them breed you, and let them shower you with caresses and praise. They are magnificent lovers, my star—passionate, tireless, and demonic—and they crave you so much. And here's something else you should know about me, my little Empress: I share everything with them—the battlefield, power, life, bed, and of course, I will share you with them, my beautiful wife." Seonghwa stops what he is doing and looks down at your trembling, delicate body lying underneath him. You can feel how his demonic gaze is burning into you before he grabs hold of your waist and quickly forces you down on all fours, lifting your bottom up into the air. His hand slides along the curves of your inner thighs, running his fingers over the warmth of your cunt and oozing sticky nectar. Two slender, long fingers rub your quivering hole, and you clench involuntarily at the tantalizing sensation of his fingers. 

"Say it once more." He orders you as he presses down on your clit and begins to rub it in rapid circles. You let out a shrill cry, your voice echoing through the luxurious imperial chambers. 

"Seonghwa! I am yours. You are my Emperor. You are my magnificent husband."

The Emperor let out a purr in response to your words, which sound silky and almost sinful. He pressed himself against you once more, thrusting his cock inside of you. Your face was pressed against the pillow before a graceful hand pulled your hair and pressed you against his wet, hard chest. He never stopped his hips from moving. His pace was sure and persistent, his lack of mercy cruel to your tender, sensitive cunt that had never known such sensations before, but still you moaned with pleasure. 

"You are going to cum on my cock, my beautiful star." His teeth graze across your ear before Seonghwa bites down on the lobe of your ear.   All of a sudden, his fingers find your swollen clit and make slow half circles over it, stimulating you even more. Immediately, you feel yourself tightening around his thick cock; your mouth falls open, and your lower lip begins to quiver as you feel that sweet tension at the bottom of your belly. Your orgasm is like a starburst of sensations—the pleasure exploding beneath your skin, stinging you like sharp shards of broken stars—and you almost lose yourself in the sensation. You moan so loudly that you swear the servants outside the door can hear you loud and clear, but whether it's the servants or perhaps one of the seven handsome generals, you have no way of knowing. 

Seonghwa lets go of your hair and grabs your waist instead, digging his nails into your flesh until it bleeds. The squishing sound your pussy makes every time his balls slap against the soft plush of your arse draws a deep animal growl from Seonghwa's throat, the great dragon inside him coming out. The warm, sticky liquid slowly seeps out between your thighs as you shiver and melts into Seonghwa's arms as he holds you upright, your head resting on his shoulder. But it doesn't last long. In a second, you're on your back again, facing the godlike Lunar Emperor. 

He stares down at your emaciated face and at the glistening beads of sweat on your brow. His smug smile was devilish and vicious; he spread your legs again, watching the heat of your tiny, squelching cunt as it greedily swallowed his cock. 

"Oh, your pussy is so beautiful, my star. A perfect little cunt to be filled with the emperor's cum, to be a breeding." Seonghwa's words are nothing more than the sweetest praise wrapped in pure sin. 

Holding your breath, your body feeling boneless and tired, you nod recklessly at his words.  

"You will cum again, my star. You're going to scream out my name so loud that everyone in this palace will know just how good a fuck I give you." He lifted one of your legs and pressed it up against the side of your chest. In this new position, you felt stiff and small under the Emperor's exquisitely elegant body, yet your pussy continued to greedily milk his cock. The vulgar, disgusting words that Seonghwa spoke to you in his deep, velvety voice made your head spin around. It made you feel so soft and sweet. 

Seonghwa fucked you in a deep and rough way. You could still feel the remains of your orgasm boiling in your belly—so sensitive, almost painful. As the head of his cock kissed your cervix, your body tensed, and every muscle in your body tightened like a silk ribbon. Yet, as if it's his only purpose in life, Seonghwa continues to split your heart. You roll your eyes, your lips quiver, and your chest shakes with sobs. You look completely fucked up as you lie there, taking everything the Emperor gives you.

"Who do you belong to, little Empress?"

"I-I, yours, Seonghwa..." You let out a gasp as you felt the tingling sensation of a new orgasm flutter around your pussy. Your soft walls clenched hard, almost restricting Seonghwa's movements, contracting and pulsing around his thick cock. 

"Louder!" He crashes his hips into you, your skin reddening where his thighs made contact with yours.  

"S-Seonghwa, I belong to you, only to you... ah!" 

You feel like you're drowning—falling rapidly and irreversibly into the depths of a bottomless ocean of pure pleasure as Seonghwa's fingers press against your swollen, torn clit. Your orgasm is all-consuming—your vision disappears for a second, your breath is trapped in your chest, and all you can hear is the raging roar of the blood in your veins. You scream—piercingly loud—but the sound barely reaches you. You're shaking, your whole body twisting and writhing from the wild intensity of your orgasm as Seonghwa continues fucking you relentlessly. Seonghwa's skilled fingers move over your clit, matching the rhythm of his hips, making your body shake around him as you go through blissful orgasm. Your juices rush between the two of you, spilling over and down the silk of the sheets. 

"I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, Seonghwa..." You cried out, the tears running freely down the sides of your face.

Seonghwa leaned forward and captured your lips in an incredible kiss, his hips pressing hard against you as he began to pour his cum as deep as he could, savoring how hard and greedily your pussy milked his cock, your silky walls trembling around him. After a few moments, he slips out of your exhausted pussy, lets go of your leg, and lies down next to you on the bed, his head dropping to your chest as he cuddles closer to you, listening to your heart pounding furiously beneath his cheek. The Emperor intertwines your fingers with his own in the most intimate and tender of gestures. Still in a daze, you lie motionless on the bed and allow him to do whatever he wants to you. 

The Great Lunar Dragon is curled up beside you like a purring, cream-fed cat. He looks completely relaxed and peaceful. Your eyes wander aimlessly around the luxurious chambers, trying to collect your thoughts, but it's only for a moment before your eyes widen—frightened and in disbelief—as you meet the gaze of none other than the great, demonically beautiful General Choi San. Your soft scream attracts the attention of Seonghwa, and his eyes are lazily open to see what it is that has upset you so much. 

"Ah, Sannie, you have frightened my star." Seonghwa reluctantly gets up from you and lightly covers your body with the sheet, but it does little to help the situation, as you can feel the general's sultry gaze burning into your skin. "You should have waited until the morning at the very least; you are too impatient, do you know that?"

"My precious Empress made a sound that was too tempting for me to resist, Hwa. I am nothing more than a male slave of my most beautiful mistress." San purred, got up, and crept towards the bed like a big cat of prey. He moves clean and elegantly, and you can't help but be enchanted by what you're seeing. But the spell is broken as soon as you feel the bed begin to sag under the weight of his body. In an attempt to shrink and hide your body from this breathtakingly handsome man, you pull your legs up. Seonghwa notices this and gently puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and giving you a light kiss on the cheek. 

"My star, you have no need to be afraid of San; he is as gentle as a kitten. You will have fun playing with him, I assure you." Seonghwa's voice was like melting honey on your skin, and you wished you could relax, but the whole situation was just wild; this is totally not how you expect a first wedding night to go. "But first we need to bathe, and then we can go and play again, my little Empress; the night is still so young." Seonghwa literally sings, letting you go and moving around the bed until she is next to San. You watch in silence as the emperor's plump, sensual lips touch the sharp cheekbone of the general for a moment before he rises from the bed and pulls a silk robe over his naked body. "I trust everything has been prepared." It is clear that the question is not directed at you. 

"Of course it has; Wooyoung and Yeosang have taken care of it." San extends his hand to you. It is the same inviting gesture that General Jung used before leading you to Seonghwa's chambers. "Come with me, my precious Empress. Your servants are waiting to please their mistress." 

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as royals who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 11.3k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: as much as writing royals was tricky, it's kind of 🤢 sad 🤢 to see this au end. that being said nobody ask me for a pt 2 pls i need to recover from the trauma LMAOO and as always, huge thank you to the queen of royal au's herself @sorryimananti-romantic for helping me finish the fic and for teaching me how to make moodboards using something that is *not* word doc :')

san

pov: you're forbidden lovers

“shh,” san hushes you with a teasing curl of his fingers that are buried inside you. “wouldn’t want everyone outside to know what a dirty little slut the princess is, do you?”

his other hand covers your mouth, stifling the breathy moans and desperate whines that escape your lips as you sit in between his legs, naked and pressed back to lean against his chest

there is the sound of water splashing over the edge of the bathtub when san hooks his feet around your inner ankles so that he can spread your legs wider for him

he presses the palm of his hand harshly against your clit and your back arches with a muffled worship of his name

“or maybe you like that,” he teases “you like the idea of people knowing how good i make you feel with my fingers”

san removes his hand from your mouth and lowers it to pinch your nipple, smirking against your neck as you babble incoherently

he coos as he adds yet another finger into you, “imagine that, everyone knows you as the princess who loves being fucked dumb. and by one of her servants, no less” 

all caution is thrown to wind and you drop your head back to lean against his shoulder, mouth lolling open with unrestrained pleads for more, more, faster as he angles his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you

“cum, princess” he demands

you grip bruises onto san’s thighs and arms when the pace of his fingers doesn’t relent even after your orgasm has washed over you

his arms tighten around you as his thighs flex to keep you still in his hold

you let out a choked sob from the overstimulation, teetering between pain and pleasure

“give me one more, i know you can do it,” he coaxes

the hand that has been fondling your breasts snakes down to rub your clit

with his fingers knuckle-deep inside of your pussy and his other hand playing relentlessly with your sensitive clit, the scale tips over and your vision blurs as another wave of pleasure hits you, more intense than the first one

“princess?” and then a knock. “are you okay?”

san slowly draws out the remainder of your orgasm with lazy thrusts of his finger into you

you just know he’s enjoying himself when you have to hide the shakiness in your voice to answer back to your maid outside, “everything’s fine. i’ll be done soon”

“soon?” san smirks, lifting you up by the waist to align your folds with his swollen cock. “then we better make this quick”

because you and san do not have the luxury of time, much less the luxury of love

he isn’t just another one of the numerous servants who serve you

he is everything to you despite how taboo it is for a princess and servant to love each other

his insignificance within the palace makes it much easier for him to slip away; for nobody to take notice

but at the same time, his insignificance is the whole reason why you two must be secretive in the first place

you make sure san has safely snuck out of the bathroom before you finally exit the bathtub and stand on unsteady legs

you allow your maids to come in and help you into the elaborate attire you are to wear for the afternoon

your parents have informed you that you are going to have visitors, thus requiring you to look your best

without much time left until the appointed meeting due to your…escapade, you make your way to the great hall, catching a glimpse of san’s dimpled smile from amongst the other body servants and waiting staff in the room

you have only just settled into your seat next to the king and queen when the guard outside the doors announces the arrival of your guests - the monarchs from the neodonian kingdom

schooling your expression to one of neutrality, you watch as they enter

and then you realise it isn’t just the neodonian king and queen who have come to visit

but the prince as well

he is undeniably handsome and pleasing to the eye with his sleekly gelled hair, chiseled features and tall, sturdy build

the young prince catches you looking at him and breaks out into a friendly smile and-

oh

he has dimples too

the king garners everyone’s attention with a clear of his throat, before he welcomes the monarchs

prince jaehyun, you learn his name is

“after much discussion between ourselves and king jeong and queen jeong, we are pleased to announce our desire for closer relations between our kingdoms,” your father starts, booming voice resounding within the hall

you can’t stop yourself from looking over at him as he speaks with purpose, a strange niggling feeling starting to twist your stomach

the tight smile that your mother passes you from your father’s other side does little to settle your nerves

“as such,” the king continues, “we shall look forward to the engagement between my daughter and prince jaehyun”

there is a roaring sound in your ears, as if you have been pushed to stand under a raging waterfall

engagement

the engagement

you

prince jaehyun

the engagement between you and prince jaehyun

it takes everything in your body not to bolt up from your seat

your hands grip the armrests of your seat with a grasp so tight you are certain you will leave a permanent imprint of your agony

instead, you look around frantically for the one person your instincts are screaming for

where is san?

you are afraid to see how much this is going to hurt him

you are desperate to tell him that you had no idea about this

you are aching to press confessions of love and reassurance against his lips

but just like the insignificance of his status, san is nowhere to be seen

over the two years that you and san have been in your secret relationship, he has gained extensive knowledge of which particular tasks allow him a greater chance of seeing you, which corridors reach you the quickest, and which times during your schedule you have a break

never would you have thought he would use this knowledge to avoid you

it continues like that for the weeks following the announcement

you have no choice but to spend time with your future fiance when your father tells you very clearly to “ensure the prince feels at home”

prince jaehyun is warm and you find yourself getting along with him like you two are friends, but that is it - there are no sparks brighter than friendship

when you spend time with him, you cannot help but compare him to san; san would’ve said this, san would’ve done that, san, san, san

jaehyun engages you in conversation, easily filling in the gaps and lulls with little comments here and there, equipped with a charming laugh and deep dimples

but it only reminds you of san’s dimples and crescent eyes when you two would race through corridors, fingers tightly interwoven as you both run away to a secluded area with hushed giggles

jaehyun points out that neither of you like mushrooms during a dinner and helps nudge the servings on both of your plates to one side

the smile as you say “thank you” does not fully grace your lips because you think about san, who boasts that he will eat all the mushrooms in the world so that you never have to lay eyes on one ever again

jaehyun offers a soft yet sturdy hand to help you down the stairs or when he notices you are walking in heels across an uneven surface

your body recalls san’s rough, calloused hands that leave a trail of goosebumps wherever they touch your bare skin as he worships your body all night long

jaehyun is handsome and he is kind, but he is not san

the night before the king officially announces your engagement with prince jaehyun arrives

and still, you have not had a moment alone with san since he disappeared during that first announcement in the great hall

hurt and longing consume you to the very core

some days it is manageable, a concealed yet incessant thought, like a sticker stuck to the sole of your shoe

other days it wraps around your soul completely like a constrictor tightening as it slowly squeezes the life out of its prey

but you know that you cannot be selfish

what you feel, san feels with an intensity multiplied several times

after all, you are not the one who must stand in the shadows as the love of your life becomes engaged to somebody else, powerless to do anything but watch and poison your own smile with lies

you are lying on your bed when a quick, sharp knock sounds on your bedroom doors

you make no move to acknowledge your visitor, having told your maids very clearly you did not want to be disturbed tonight

your last night as yourself before you become prince jaehyun’s fiance

but then the knocks come a little more urgent, a little more frantic, just like your heartbeat does as it starts to speed up in anticipation

you hold your breath as you hurry to pull open the doors-

and there he is

“san-”

he swallows the rest of your words in a desperate kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw as he walks you backwards so that he can step into your room

he tilts your head and slots his lips against yours again while he nudges your door closed with his foot

it isn’t until you let out a whine as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip that he pulls back to finally look at you, both of his thumbs caressing your cheekbones

you grip the front of his linen shirt, afraid that he will disappear as soon as you let go

“san, i- i had no idea, i didn’t agree to any of this”

he shushes you gently, a painful smile adorning his handsome face

“i know. i know, so please don’t cry, love,” he murmurs softly

you don’t even realise the weeks of suppressed emotions have started making their way down your face in salty trails until san uses the back of his fingers to tenderly brush them away

“i’m getting engaged tomorrow, san,” your voice breaks as reality settles in

you are so afraid

you are so lost

above all, you are so in love with san

“i know,” he reassures again, “but until tomorrow, you are still mine”

and so you spend your last night together

time has always been precious; conversations, kisses and touches rushed and with fervour

but tonight, san takes his time with you

he lays on your bed with you cradled on top of him, limbs tangled together as he savours the taste of your lips against his

he turns you onto your back as he slowly undresses you, leaving tattoos of his love each time he bares another part of your body

he pleasures you with his fingers whilst whispering into your ears, creating a harmony with his praises and the melodious moans that leave your lips

and as he brings you both to your highs numerous times throughout the night like an ingrained dance routine, it is accompanied with confessions of i love you

san holds you against his chest under your blankets so tightly that you cannot tell where your body ends and his body starts

before you drift off, safe and protected in his arms, he murmurs against your temple, “no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what happens in the future, my heart will always be yours”

“as will mine”

you wake up the next morning to an empty bed and an equally empty heart

restless and drowning in a mix of emotions, you pace the empty corridors of the guest bedchambers

which is where jaehyun finds you as he exits his room

he is surprised but is quick to greet you kindly, “good morning, princess. what are you doing here?”

you pause mid-step

what are you doing?

“prince jaehyun,” you let the words come out of you before you can regret them. “can we talk for a moment?”

he nods, entering his room again as he pulls the door open wider for you to follow

jaehyun closes the door and then offers you a seat on his sofa, before pulling up his own chair and settling a respectful distance away from you

“i hope you don’t feel uncomfortable in my room,” he explains, “i thought that we would be less likely to be disturbed in here…considering most people know of our engagement today”

“actually, i wanted to talk to you about that”

“go on,” he encourages you with a dimpled smile

you take a deep breath

“i’m sorry,” you blurt out

and then you are admitting to the prince that he is lovely and charming and caring, but you just don’t see it working out with him

you don’t want to get engaged with him

because your heart already belongs to somebody else

“good”

“i’m so sorry, i should have been honest with you from the start but- wait, what?” you look up from where you have been nervously picking at your cuticles

jaehyun is smiling at you - a genuine smile that you did not know he had

“i’m actually relieved to hear that, princess,” he admits. “because i…also have someone that i love back home”

and for the first time, you and jaehyun truly see each other in the same light

“who is it?” he asks

“his name is san,” and then you add on, “he has dimples just like you do” 

you ask him the same question

you see the way jaehyun’s expression softens with love from just the mere thought of the other

it makes you wonder whether you have the same look on your face when you mention san

jaehyun jokes, “want to be the one who tells your father we’re calling off the engagement? i don’t fancy getting executed today”

but despite what he says, mere hours later, when you are both standing in the great hall before your parents - the kings and queens of both your kingdoms - he is the one to speak up

“your majesty, we have decided to part ways peacefully and would not like to proceed with the engagement. our kingdom will always be your ally, regardless of marital relations or not”

“what?” you see veins starting to appear across the king’s forehead as he tries to maintain his temper, but the queen and the jeong monarchs seem to be taking the news much better

disappointed, perhaps, but understanding

the queen leans closer to remind the king that they had all agreed to this engagement on the terms that the decision would ultimately be yours and jaehyun’s

you suddenly speak up because this may be the only time you have the courage to

“i have one more thing to say,” you declare. “i revoke my noble status and thus declare nullified all the privileges, rules and traditions that come with nobility. i have someone i love and i wish to marry them as myself, not as the kingdom’s princess”

the king roars furiously, “that is enough! leave!” and he slams his hand against the throne’s armrest

shocked and betrayed by your father’s reaction, you rush out of the great hall with tears welling in your eyes

only to run straight into the waiting arms of san

“oh, princess,” he murmurs against the crown of your head as he engulfs you in his embrace

he doesn’t have to say anything for you to realise that he has heard the whole conversation

but you do not care about anything anymore

you are where you want to be, held by who you want to be with

“how are you here?” you sniffle

“jaehyun approached me earlier. i thought i was going to get beat up,” san’s attempt to make you smile is successful

when you lift your head up to look at him, you realise his eyes are wet as well

then you feel his body stiffen as his eyes shift to focus on something behind you

someone

he immediately steps away from you, bowing deeply as he greets the queen

you turn around to see her face adorning an endearing smile

“it’s fine, sannie,” she says, and you are not sure whether you and san are more surprised by the fact that she knows him by name or by the affectionate nickname she has used

“i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” he flusters

she thanks him with a teasing remark, “i won’t keep her away from you for very long”

san waits further down the corridor, back turned to give you two a moment of privacy

and then she is stroking your hair affectionately

“i am so proud of you. you’ve grown up so well and you are so brave,” she says

you don’t understand

you ask, “why aren’t you angry?”

“oh, baby,” she fondly runs her fingers through your hair, just like she used to when you were younger. “before my duties as the queen to my people, i am the mother to my daughter. i love you and all i want is for you to be happy”

your lips tremble with emotion as your mother pulls you into a hug

“does sannie make you happy, dear?”

you nod, “the happiest”

“then that is all i want. now go,” she takes a hold of your shoulders and gently turns you in the direction of san. “i’ll talk to your father”

with one last encouraging squeeze, you race down the corridor towards san

he hears your footsteps and has already turned around with open arms waiting to catch you

you hear him let out an oomph! with how hard you throw yourself into him, but he is then swaying your bodies side to side

san pulls back slightly with an incredulous look. “does this mean we can be together? together together?” 

“i goddamn hope so because i gave up my princess privileges for you. no more carriages, no more assorted sweet delicacies, no more daily massages-” you fold down your fingers as you continue listing things off

he cuts you off with a tickle to your sides as he says, “that’s easy to sort out”

“first, you’ll still be my princess,” he unfurls one of your fingers so it stands upright again

“second, i’ll carry you myself so that you never need to use your feet again,” he unfurls another finger

“i’ll give you a treat whenever you want,” he kisses your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip with a teasing tug

“and, dear princess,” he pulls you flush against his body and you have to steady yourself on his chest to avoid tripping over, “i can give you hourly massages…”

smirking, he starts to lower his head to suck pretty marks onto your neck as he whispers in a low voice, “...if you can keep up”

mingi

pov: you're the prince's maid

for what you are about to do, you could very well be executed should somebody catch you

but desperate times call for desperate measures

and there’s no guarantee that you and all the other staff will not be executed anyway…

not with what has just happened in the palace

you push the door closed behind you with a soft click, using the brief changeover of guards to slip inside the bedroom of the youngest prince, unnoticed

you call out softly but urgently, “prince mingi”

when you hear him groggily murmur, starting to bubble towards the surface of consciousness, you dare to give his shoulder a rough shake

“prince mingi, please wake up”

his eyes flutter open, confusion starting to clear the fogginess in his head as he struggles to comprehend the sight of your face hovering inches from his, deep into the hours of the night

“w-what’s going on?” he clears his husky voice, “are you okay?”

you wish you could reach out and smooth the wrinkles of concern from his forehead

reassure him that everything will be okay until he falls back asleep

but there is no time

“the crown prince is dead and we must leave. now.”

the effect is immediate, like you have just driven a knife into his chest

although you suppose it must not feel very different for prince mingi right now

“the crown prince is d-” the word tastes vile on his tongue, so he asks after his second oldest brother instead. “what about prince eun?”

you must drive the knife into him once more

“he was the one who murdered the crown prince, but he has framed you for the murder. there is no time, prince mingi, we must leave now”

“the court will find me innocent,” yet he lets you tug him out of his bed

you hastily help prince mingi into a dark brown robe while you shake your head, “not when your inscribed sword is currently covered in the crown prince’s blood. we do not know who is secretly working for prince eun. until we know for sure, we do not stand a chance of clearing your name”

he knows that you’re right, even if his heart is hoping that you are wrong

the prince slides his hand into the gap between his bed and wall, pulling out a spare sword and wrapping the belt around his waist

eyes sweeping across his chamber one final time, he locks eyes with you grimly before turning to flee

you follow the prince through a back passageway - it’s not entirely a secret and it won’t be long before the royal guards come for the prince, discover his empty bedroom and give chase

but it is long enough to give you two a head start

he helps you up onto the back of his personal horse before he swings himself up easily onto the saddle behind you

with a nudge of his feet, the prince sends the horse into a gallop

you startle with a yelp, having never ridden a horse before, much less one at this pace

prince mingi presses himself a little closer to you and slots his chest against your back as he leans forward to guide your hands to hold the reins with his

“here,” he murmurs, “just follow me”

he shifts one hand to settle on your waist, guiding your body into a comfortable rhythm that dances in sync with the horse’s movements and his own

when he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it, the prince places his hand back on the reins, yet he stays close, keeping you safely encased within his arms to prevent you from falling off

you’re not sure how long you two ride for

but at some point the prince slows the horse to a canter

with the slower sway of the steed, the steady clack of hooves against the forest floor, and the warmth of the prince around you, you drift off to his whispered, “sleep, i’ve got you”

you wake up to find yourself on a scratchy pile of leaves

the events of last night piece themselves together when you spot prince mingi, still adorning his deep blue silk pajamas, leaning against a tree a few feet away

it would have been a sight to see if not for the fact that-

“what are we going to do now?” you sit up, and the prince’s robe, you now register, falls from around your body

the prince gives you a warm smile as you rub the sleep from your eyes with fisted hands

“we’ll head into halsburg. the town is small enough the news should not have traveled that far yet. we’ll replenish some supplies and go from there”

it’s unspoken

the fact that there is no solid plan from there

even if the two of you have managed to escape the royal guards, for how long can you two run?

plus, it will be impossibly difficult to find evidence while on the run, when the answers are within the castle walls themselves

but you push those thoughts aside as you two enter halsburg, the prince’s hood pulled up over his face

you do the bulk of the purchases, less likely to be recognised by the townspeople

it’s mainly food and water for yourself, the prince, and his horse, and a simple tunic to replace his royal pajamas - something you have been teasing him about since you woke up

later that night, hours away from the outskirts of halsburg, you two settle for a couple hours of rest

a small fire crackles away to the song of the cicadas, an occasional pop as the licks of flames cast shadows across your faces

you glance at the prince sitting across from you, who is idly fiddling with his pajama top

specifically, the royal crest of the song family embroidered onto its front pocket

your heart clenches painfully, knowing the death of a family member is hard enough to process without the additional weight of being framed for murder, much less by your own brother who is the real culprit

“prince mingi…” you start, voice low

he glances up at you, eyes softening as he curves his lips up into a small smile, “i’m okay.”

you hesitate for a split second before letting the clench in your gut pull you to your feet, and you shuffle to settle back down in front of the fire, except this time beside the prince

all the while his eyes never leave you, not even when you nudge his shoulder softly and say,

“you don’t have to be strong. not in front of me…”

and he knows

because despite the differences in your social statuses, you are the person he trusts the most

you, the girl who used to trip over the lengths of his robes that you carried, now a woman who holds herself righteously and bravely

you, who chose to risk your own life from the moment you woke him up in his chambers

you, who is still risking your life to flee with him

“only if you stop calling me prince,” he jokingly nudges you back, attempting to make the atmosphere lighter despite the wetness that is starting to paint his eyes. “with you, i am just mingi”

“okay, prince mingi,” you tease

yet, you still extend a hand out to him, palm upturned in a silent invitation for comfort should he wish to seek it, because you can tell that he isn’t quite ready to seek it verbally

mingi laces his larger fingers through yours, tucking your interlocked hands closer to his body as he draws his knees up so that he can rest his chin upon them

mingi thinks that he feels numb more than anything, but he finds he isn’t as surprised as one would expect him to be

perhaps he always knew of his middle brother’s thirst for the throne 

he just never thought it would be enough to spill blood

for now though, he lets himself be distracted by your thumb tracing mindless patterns against his knuckles

he lets himself relish in the heat radiating from your side that seems to warm him from inside out, even as the embers of the fire slowly lose their glow and die out with the darkening night

the days start to repeat themselves

you two cover as much distance as you can while sparing what time you can afford for yourselves and mingi’s horse to rest

mingi has decided to travel to prince yunho's kingdom, an old and trusted ally who may be able to provide you two with protection while he pulls strings to fight back against prince eun

from his calculations, the journey will take at least another two weeks

and although mingi doesn’t tell you this, deep down he does not know whether you two have two weeks left

the threat of the royal guards catching up hangs over the two of you like a hangman’s noose

neither of you have brought up that night by the fire either

but something has definitely changed in the way you seek comfort and reassurance in each other

as if so long as you have each other, everything will be alright in the end

when you feel him tremble as he sleeps curled around you, restless from a plaguing nightmare, you hush sweet nothings and brush his locks away from his forehead until his breathing steadies out again

and when you’re seated on the saddle in front of him, you now having long grown accustomed to horse riding, he still finds himself resting a comforting hand on you somewhere - your hips, thigh or over your own hand

sometimes when he is laughing softly with you, your arms brushing against each other, you imagine a different story; one where you are worthy of loving him

sometimes when you are tucked into his chest, small exhales escaping your open lips as you sleep, mingi imagines a different story; one where he is able to love you freely

because despite the blood running through his veins that has ultimately led to his downfall, you still look at him as though he has placed the stars in the very sky that you two have spent countless nights under

and although he knows the reality is that he cannot, he tries to write his own story, even if just for tonight

you are lying in his arms, legs tangled together, when the question comes tumbling out of his lips

“will you stay with me, forever?”

he feels you still in his embrace, before you’re pulling back a little to look at him with a chuckle

“you should be asking a princess that, prince mingi, not somebody like me”

“you are a princess in my eyes”

you can’t help the endearing look that crosses over your face as you lightly tap his nose, “you know that is not how it works”

“then we can run away. for i am already as good as dead to my kingdom,” he tells you with boyish determination

“you cannot, mingi. your people need a good prince”

“but what prince would i be if i cannot even boldly love you? the person who is dearest to me?”

under his sincere gaze and the weight of his words, you allow him this moment of solace

because perhaps, you want it just as much as he does

“okay, i’ll be your princess,” you breathe out

“forever?”

“forever”

that night, it is just you and mingi - no titles that separate your world from his, no looming threat of death - just two people in love

even as an uneasy pit settles at the bottom of mingi’s stomach, a growing feeling that gnaws away at him into the early hours of the next morning

he is startled awake, your expression frightened, and he immediately understands when he hears the thunderous chorus of hooves hitting the ground towards you two

mingi had known there was not much time left, but he did not think that the inevitable confrontation would happen this soon, only mere hours after the soft kiss he had pressed against your forehead

the desperate attempt to escape once more is futile, the royal guards closing the distance within minutes

left with no choice but to stop, you and mingi demount and the guards move to flank you both in a wide semicircle

when the head of the guards, prince eun, saunters forward, mingi matches with a stride of his own so that he can step in front of you

“you killed the crown prince, eun,” mingi spits at his brother

“running and denying your actions up until your very last moments, i see,” prince eun laughs condescendingly. “and you even took a little dog with you, too”

mingi presses you closer to his back, hiding you from the leering gaze of his brother

prince eun smiles smugly at mingi’s reaction, before he takes out a scroll and unravels it

“for high treason of the assassination of the crown prince, the king hereby decrees the immediate revocation of nobility of his third son, song mingi, and for the execution of song mingi and his maid upon sighting.”

you press your nose into mingi’s back, taking one last inhale of his familiar scent

the bowmen all take aim as prince eun sneers, “any last words, brother?”

mingi turns around, and all you can see in that moment are his warm eyes and dimpled cheeks

“i love you, my princess,” he proclaims

“forever,” you reply

he brings his lips down to connect them with yours, drowning out the distinct vibration of loosening strings and the hiss of flying arrows with the roaring symphony in your hearts

you’re unsure what pain swallows you whole first - the pain as an arrowhead sinks into your chest, or the pain as you realise that this is the end of your short-lived love with mingi

you struggle to keep the smile on your face as you lock eyes with mingi, trying to memorise the loving gaze that adorns his own face

you see his mouth moving, but the pain exploding throughout your body is too loud for you to make out his words

with your last breath, you gasp out your final confession, “i love you too, mingi. we’ll meet again in the next life”

as the world starts to fade away, cold creeping into your limbs, you hope that in another story, in another lifetime, you and mingi will be able to find each other again

wooyoung

pov: you're the princess of a rival kingdom

“absolutely not, advisor lee,” your mother raises her nose in the air

“your highness, i understand but-”

“oh please, do not flatter yourself, queen cho,” queen jung spits out, “you are not the only one who abhors the idea”

you glare at the prince sitting across from you, your own gazes reflecting the tension in the room

advisor lee has suggested that your family and the jung family host a joint royal ball as a grand display of amity between the two neighbouring kingdoms, particularly between the princess - yourself - and their prince - prince wooyoung

there have been spreading rumours in town of the strained relationship between the two royal families

which aren’t entirely untrue

as a child, the two kingdoms have been loyal and steadfast in their alliance and friendship

in fact, it is not uncommon to find you joining prince wooyoung in his kitchen, begging the chefs to let you two lick the spoons

or to find prince wooyoung squatting next to you in your garden as you both look at the ladybugs

but as power imbalances emerge and political agendas start to diverge, a wedge is driven between your families

the relation is now dangerously close to severing completely, but not without the increasing attention of the towns surrounding the two kingdoms

and one of the last things both royal families need is unease and disunity amongst the commoners

which brings advisor lee to look on with exasperation as he tries to do his job - advise

except neither your mother nor queen jung look ready to accept his advice

your father nods slightly at the two of you, “you are dismissed, as are you, prince wooyoung”

you curtsy as the prince takes a slight bow, before you obnoxiously flick your hair over your shoulder and turn away on your heels

you escape to the garden, knowing that the meeting will take at least another hour before you are required to bid the jung family farewell

except, surprise surprise

who do you run into

you narrow your eyes at prince wooyoung as he steps towards you, who has one eyebrow quirked, “a royal ball, he says?”

“absolutely not,” you fold your arms across your chest

“oh please, do not flatter yourself, princess,” he sneers, not dissimilar to the nasally tone his mother had voiced her dissatisfaction earlier with

neither of you back down, daring the other to say something else

before you two break out into giggles, eyes glittering scandalously

“did you see your mother deliberately pass the salt instead of sugar for the tea?”

“and then the face my mother made when she took a sip of it-”

he pulls you to crouch behind an azalea bush as you both chortle like children, out of sight, before he brings you in for a dizzying kiss 

you sigh, resting a hand on his chest

“do you also abhor the idea of dancing with me, prince wooyoung?” a teasing lilt in your voice

“absolutely,” he nods grimly, “why go to all that effort when there is a much grander and longer-lasting solution?”

“and what is that, my prince?”

he sneaks another chaste kiss from your lips, “for me to take your hand in marriage, my princess”

at his words, your smile dampens

“you know that i would say yes in a heartbeat. it is not i who needs convincing, but our parents”

because despite the growing hostility between your two families, the relationship you share with wooyoung has, ironically, blossomed into one of well-concealed adoration, intimacy and love

you two have come to learn that that one slightly lighter stone on the western side of your kingdom’s outer walls comes loose, and is the perfect size for slipping a piece of paper behind it

you two have also come to learn that every fourth week, if you ask your personal tutor enough questions about the plants laid out on the store’s table in front of you during your scheduled lesson in town, you’ll be able to drag it out long enough for you both to just catch a glimpse of each other as he and his escorts cut through the town on their way back to his kingdom

and of course, you two have come to learn the most isolated spots in your own respective kingdoms, like the second stairwell leading down to the cellar in wooyoung’s palace

and amongst the azalea bushes in the back garden in yours

which is exactly how you knew that he would appear, how you knew that he would give you those sweet kisses you have been craving so desperately 

as wooyoung cups your jaw to kiss you once more, one that leaves you wanting to chase his lips forever, he bets you that it’ll only take two weeks of close-quarter meetings between your royal families before one of your mothers blow up and the ball idea falls through completely

in response, you bet him that they won’t even last two weeks - one at the most

except you’re both wrong

the meeting turns into two, followed by several more as the planning goes ahead

sometimes, the meetings are held in the jung palace

other times, their family journeys to your kingdom instead

one thing that stays constant is the malevolence in the air

the parents are sarcastic snipes and saccharine smiles

and on the surface, you and wooyoung are further extensions of your own parents’ simmering loathing for the other

but under the intricately-carved wooden table, you two are playing footsies, jeweled heels and leather shoes engaged in a playful fight

you see how many times you can slide your heels up along his shin, gradually inching closer towards his inner thigh with each coquettish touch

he has you pass him anything and everything under the guise of forgoing the help of the numerous royal butlers and maids around the room to deliberately irritate you

really, it is to accidentally brush his fingers over your hands; to see the pretty shade of rose that settles over your cheeks and ears as you both try not to break out into giggles

and perhaps, during the meals that may take place during the meetings, there have been a couple of peas flicked at each other here and there when no one is paying attention

(unbeknownst to you two, the maids and butlers alike must hide their own endearing smiles)

the weeks turn into months and you practically have a permanent glow radiating from you, now that you have been seeing the prince so frequently

(which also does not go unnoticed)

as you select a necklace from the assortment of choices to emphasise the plunging neckline of your off-shoulder gown, you wonder how the day of the royal ball has arrived so quickly

your personal maid, jihye, carefully fixes the clasp of the necklace around you before stepping back to let you look in the mirror

you smooth a hand over the soft lavender charmeuse of your dress, nervously looking at jihye

“how do i look?”

“stunning, my princess,” she assures you, before adding, “prince wooyoung will definitely love it”

“prin- he- what? i- sorry?” you say unintelligibly, before you try to salvage the situation by tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you laugh her off

but jihye just looks at you knowingly

meanwhile, prince wooyoung is already at the grand hall, the jung family having arrived two days prior for the final preparations of the ball

he and his friends, princes from kingdoms located further up north and towards the east, are lingering around one of the tables decorated with flower arrangements and elaborate candle holders, ignoring the longing glances of other attendees, women and men alike, thrown at their striking posse

wooyoung is trying to keep his gaze subtle, scanning the vast number of people at the ball without craning or turning his head, searching for one particular face

yours

prince yeosang nudges the others, jerking his chin to motion towards the distracted wooyoung

when wooyoung finally realises he isn’t as subtle as he thinks, all his friends are already looking at him with varying degrees of smirks

“just know that if there were not so many people here,” wooyoung begins with a pleasant smile, “i would flip you all off right now”

before he can try stepping on his friends’ toes in the form of petty revenge, prince seonghwa points towards the entrance as his smile grows impossibly wider

“look”

wooyoung turns around

and like any typical man who is head over heels in love, the world around him slows down

the gushing whispers spreading throughout the ballroom fade into the background

because finally, there you are, gracefully stepping past the threshold of the arched doorway in all your alluring beauty, accentuated by the way your curled locks and flowing gown frame your body

for the briefest moment, you lock eyes with him, and wooyoung feels his brain shutting down on him

“you’re going to catch a fly in your mouth, woo”

“pick up your jaw. it’s on the ground”

prince yunho pretends to dab wooyoung’s mouth with the ruffled sleeves of his cream shirt, “you’re drooling, darling”

at that, wooyoung smacks his lips dazedly before coming to a moment of realisation, blinking hard twice to bring himself back to reality

“god, you’re hopeless. just go up and talk to her,” prince hongjoong snickers. “the whole point of this ball is to show off how ‘close’ your families are anyway”

wooyoung grumbles that he knows, he’s just looking for the right timing

which, unfortunately, does not seem to come

you spend what feels like the next two hours being whisked around, feigning polite interest as you are forced to engage in dull and bland conversations with numerous men of differing royal statuses, all of whom are no doubt trying to make an impression on you in hopes of becoming a potential suitor in the future

not that you have eyes for anyone apart from the one who already has your heart

the very same person who is currently fed up with watching you converse and let your hands be kissed by men who are not him

even if he knows you are pretending, he thinks that you sure are damn good at giggling at all the right times

you are trying not to let your smile turn into a grimace as the older-aged man, lord ryu you think, boasts of his wealth to you, when wooyoung enters your peripheral vision

“princess, lord ryu,” he greets you both, before looking down at the latter, “pardon me as i take the princess for a dance”

lord ryu, visibly irked but unable to say anything to the prince of significantly higher status, lets go of your hand to step back into a bow, “of course, prince wooyoung”

you giggle, this time genuinely, as wooyoung takes your hand to gently lead you towards the center of the ballroom, where several others are starting to waltz to the soft music that is now playing

you rest a hand just below his shoulder, feeling the sturdiness of his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, as he places his other hand to settle on the dip of your waist

a little possessively, you might add

“you look beautiful today,” he murmurs lowly, away from any prying ears

“only today?” you quirk an eyebrow teasingly

his voice drops down an octave, “well it’s not every day that i can tell you, princess”

wooyoung’s eyes flicker down hungrily to look at your lips

you run your tongue slowly over your bottom lip, knowing it will drive him absolutely crazy that he cannot just take you right there and then in front of everybody

and you can see the moment his resolve snaps

“meet me for some fresh air in ten,” bringing his lips as close to the shell of your ear as he dares

and then he’s gone

you become progressively antsy as you wait out a generous amount of time after he leaves for you to also slip away from the ballroom

wooyoung pins you against a pillar as soon as you emerge in the garden, aching to kiss you and fight for dominance until you’re both breathless and light-headed

“you don’t know how desperately i wanted to kiss you in front of everyone - let the whole world know that you’re mine,” he nips at your bottom lip

you rest your hands on his chest, fingers curled around the pleated front of his satin shirt to hold yourself steady as he turns your lips into an artwork of swollen cherry reds

he tilts your head back a little more, your mouths moving in tandem, soft moans drawn out of you, when-

“what in god’s name is going on?”

you and wooyoung startle apart at the shriek

the blush dusting your faces pale almost immediately at the sight of not just your mother, but also queen jung and a few of the royal staff

it’s kind of amusing that of all things for the two queens to have the same mindset about, it is the discovery of you and wooyoung’s secret relationship that unites them, both sharing twin expressions of horror and revulsion

you’re ripped from each other’s arms as you are forced back into the confines of your bed chamber, royal ball long forgotten

your only solace is learned later that night, when jihye brings a trolley of food you have no appetite for, that the jung family have not yet returned to their kingdom

they are still in your palace somewhere

yet that does little to soothe your tears, overwhelmed by the drastic turn of events, and you do not know when you fall asleep that night

all you know is that it is to a bed too cold and a longing in your heart too gaping to ignore

“princess,” you look up to see jihye standing at your door the next morning, almost apologetic, “the king and queen request for your presence in the throne room”

as you approach the room after tidying your appearance, your breath hitches when you spot him just by the double doors

you barrel forwards into his waiting arms, uncaring of the staff following behind you

not that they have the heart to stop you either way

“i thought you would have been forced to leave,” you blurt, unable to believe that wooyoung is right in front of you

“i’m still here,” he chuckles. “i have been summoned by your parents”

your heart drops down to your stomach at his words as you realise what this meeting is about

“and i am glad they did, princess,” wooyoung is quick to interject before your apology makes it past the tip of your tongue. “i am going to ask for your hand in marriage. officially”

“what if they banish us from ever seeing each other again?” worry overwhelms you as your breathing quickens

wooyoung gently laces his fingers through yours, bringing up his other hand to cup your face and run his thumb comfortingly over the curve of your cheekbone to keep you grounded

“no matter what happens today, no matter what the outcome is,” he looks at you with the fierce determination of a man ready to give up anything and everything for your sake, “i will never ever stop fighting for you”

he presses his soft lips against yours

“for us,” he vows

your breathing evens out, and while your heartbeat still pounds inside your ribcage, you know that it marches in rhythm with the man in front of you

this time, not afraid to appear in front of the rulers of your kingdoms - your parents - you and wooyoung nod in reassurance at each other once more, hand in hand, before you both push the doors to the throne room open

together.

jongho

pov: you're under his protection as your royal guard

over the din of volunteered names in the meeting room, jongho steps forward

“your majesty, i will accompany the princess,” he declares

“choi jongho?” your father scans him up and down with regard before nodding in approval, “it is decided then”

“him? surely i need another person with me as well?” you protest

your father quirks an eyebrow at you, a subtle reminder that whilst he is your father, he is also the king

“no, you will need to travel in disguise and stay as discreet as possible. only jongho will accompany you as your royal guard”

your father looks away and starts to address the next item on the meeting agenda; it is quite clear there is no room for argument

meanwhile, jongho sidles up to you

“you trying to catch bugs or something? close your mouth, princess,” he teases under his breath

you nudge him with an elbow, “you’re the only bug i see around here”

he rolls his eyes but you both snicker in unison when one of your older sisters turns around to shush you with a dirty look

regardless, you stay silent for the rest of the meeting

you’re not sure why jongho stepped forward to take on this task

because for someone who is your main royal guard and is supposed to be loyal and obedient, he sure makes it clear that his job is about as gratifying as babysitting

(“you can’t talk to me like that. i’m the princess”)

(“no, you’re not. you’re an idiot”)

in fact, when you had been notified a few days prior that you would be traveling with one other royal guard - who had yet to be decided at the time - jongho had spent every single day gloating that he would finally get a break from babysitting you

and yet here he is

with the opportunity to hand you off to somebody else

but instead, baring his teeth at the other guards who offer themselves up for this scouting mission

he would never admit to it either, but jongho personally spoke to the king years ago about being rostered on as your main bodyguard since he’s “known the princess for the longest and so i can protect her the best”

you don’t want to travel to the border

you’re in charge of maintaining security and defense along your borders and with neighbouring kingdoms, usually dealing with complications remotely through the ministers and advisors who work for you

this time though, there has been recent unrest near the southern borders of your kingdom near denport, a city notorious for bandits and fugitives

the situation has worsened with increased risk of bloodshed, thus has the need for you to survey the borders in person

and as the youngest sibling of five, the king has made it very clear that this is your opportunity to prove your capabilities

jongho makes sure to remind you of this fact when you grumble your way through packing a satchel of essential items to take with you

(“your fluffy slippers are not essential, princess”)

(you listen and throw them back onto the floor of your bedchambers, but stuff in a few paperweights when he isn’t looking out of petty revenge because you know he’ll end up carrying your bag for you later when you ask him to)

it’s a relatively long journey to denport, so as soon as you are ready, jongho having long finished packing his own bag, you leave your kingdom with him at your side

by the time the sun is starting to set later that day, you’re passing through a small town

he suggests calling it a night and recuperating at one of the inns

you wait while he inquires about available rooms and then follow him through a small alleyway to the inn that he has chosen for the night

you take all but one look at the rotting wood and creaking sign at the entrance before you are crossing your arms like a petulant child

“there’s no way i’m staying the night in this sorry excuse of an inn”

he merely blinks

“you’re technically not the princess right now so you better listen to me or god help me, i’ll-”

“you’ll what,” you challenge, nose-to-nose

or nose-to-throat, you suppose

but before you can dwell any further on your height difference, jongho picks you up, slings you over his shoulder like you are nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and walks into the inn without a care in the world that you are screaming bloody murder

you resign to your fate and flop uselessly against his back as he carries you up the stairs

instead, when he throws you onto the bed upon entering the room, you look up at him sultrily and smirk, “ooh, now i’m turned on”

jongho shakes his head with exasperation but you don’t miss the redness that is creeping up the back of his neck as he turns around to close the door shut

“wait,” you sit up on the bed, “we’re sharing a room?”

“it’s safer. i’ll sleep on the sofa”

you scrunch your nose at the arrangement, but you do admittedly feel a little more at ease in the unfamiliar room of the inn

you start to take a shoe off before a thought flits through your mind and you point the shoe in your hand at him like a weapon, “you better not snore”

jongho rolls his eyes as he steps forward to take the shoe out of your hand, and then he is bending down to help slip off the shoe from your other foot

a thank you lies on the tip of your tongue

“you’re the only snorer in this room, princess”

nevermind.

it’s gone.

you’re settled in bed, waiting for jongho to finish washing up and turn off the lights, when you spot it

holy shit

your immediate reaction is to seek his protection

“jongho!”

the door to the bathroom swings open almost immediately as he rushes out, eyes alarmed, alert, and zeroing onto you

water drips off the ends of his hair and you can still spot suds on his exposed torso

“what’s wrong? are you okay? are you hurt?” his voice is laced with restrained panic

you point to the corner of the room and then he sees it too

his body stiffens completely

because, mere metres from the two of you, presence sinister and dangerous…

is a fucking spider

all is quiet and still for a while, your eyes flickering back and forth between your royal guard and the spider in a tense standoff

then, just as you are about to speak up, jongho grabs his bag and swiftly turns on his heels to head towards the room’s door

“where are you going?!” you shriek

he looks at you forlornly from over his shoulder, “to prepare for my execution”

“what the fuck are you on about, jongho?”

“for abandoning my duties and failing to protect you. farewell, princess. you are on your own from here-”

his sentence is cut short as the spider scuttles towards him

and that is how you two, disguised, but still a royal princess and royal guard no less, are given an eviction warning because he streaked through the corridors of the inn half naked and screaming at the top of his lungs

needless to say, the innkeeper ends up having to remove the spider for the two of you

“you’re so embarrassing,” you whisper to him once you two are finally settled in bed and on the sofa

“no, i’m jongho,” he cackles

you don’t humour him with a response, but you know he snickers himself to sleep that night

you can’t help but let the corner of your lips tug up as well

a few days later after leaving the town, you two are resting side by side against a tree trunk when you decide to grace jongho with the opportunity to redeem himself

he’s currently halving a sandwich so you two can share

“if i were trapped in a forest full of spiders and you were the only person who could save me,” you ask gravely, “what would you do?”

without missing a beat, he replies, “prepare to grieve your death and make sure your pet cat is well fed in your honour”

he passes you the bigger sandwich as you turn to look at him with the most scandalised expression

“can you at least pretend to think for a bit?” you grumble

there’s a hint of a smile on jongho’s face when he apologises, “okay, sorry. ask me again”

you hit him with a different scenario this time

“if you had to fight a giant spider who had taken me hostage, what would you do?”

he hums thoughtfully for a few seconds, unscrewing a canteen of water for you and placing it by your side

“i would say, she is all yours, your spidery majesty, and then i would bow and walk away”

“fuck you,” you shove him good-naturedly with your shoulder

he swipes the canteen before you can knock it over and presses it into your smaller hand instead, giving it a quick pat as he dismisses your insult, “sure, if you think you can handle my dick”

“like they say,” you waggle your eyebrows at him as your voice drops down lower, “practice makes perfect”

jongho’s stoic facade finally cracks when you lean in closer and he hurries to stand up and put some distance between you and him

he shifts his legs subtly, clearing his throat to say, “we should go, denport is close”

when you’ve finished off the last of your sandwich, you dust off your fingers and grab jongho’s offered hand to stand up too

“let’s go”

one thing you have both noticed is that the closer you get to the border between your kingdom and denport, the quieter and thicker the atmosphere seems to get

the small towns you pass through have less people roaming around; in fact, most people seem to flee back into the refuge of their own houses, locking their doors and closing their windows when they catch sight of your pair

and then it happens

your plan goes awry

you and jongho are harshly awoken by a commotion outside the small room you have rented for the night

there’s a sickening smell accompanied by wails of grief in the air

when you rush outside, all you can see is a huge crowd of people gathered and your ears strain to pick up on the broken hushes of information being thrown around

“his son is lucky to have been spared”

“lucky to have seen his father slaughtered by bandits?”

“i heard it wasn’t money that they were after, though”

“those damned denport devils are up to something”

that’s all you pick up on before jongho snatches your arm and leads you back into the inn, telling you that it’s too dangerous to be out there; too dangerous for you two to continue traveling

which leads to the very first argument you ever have with him

you two butt heads all the time with your own fiery fronts and hardheadedness but more often than not, he yields to you

you’re facing him in the dim room - it is shadier than that first inn you two made a stop at weeks ago, but you’re both sharing one room just like you two have done at every single inn since

“we need to go check it out!” you shout at him

jongho takes a shaky breath as he tries to keep his voice even, “no, we should go back to our kingdom, report on the situation and call for backup!”

you throw your hands up into the air, “we’re already here - we’re basically at denport! what if something blows up soon? it might be too late by the time we go back”

jongho steps in closer as his eyes narrow

you don’t cower because you know he would never hurt you, but you do step backwards because you don’t think you can keep a clear head when he is standing so close to you, proximity dizzying like the buzz of alcohol

“of all times for you to play hero and do something that you weren’t asked to, why now? why put yourself in danger?”

your back hits the wall as jongho corners you

your chest heaves, as does his, both of you overwhelmed with emotions

he holds your gaze but his eyes are rounded with agony and distress

you don’t understand why he is so against your decision

you don’t know what to say, until your eyes flicker down involuntarily at the movement of his lips parting to exhale-

“damn, jongho, your lips are real chapped. you should use some of my lip balm”

he blinks hard at the absurdity of what you chose to say

he looks at your lips

he makes a decision

“then give me some of yours,” he says, a little breathless

and then he’s pressing his chapped lips against your smooth ones, the taste of coconut filling your mouth as your lip balm smears

suddenly, he pulls back with the audacity to look shocked as if you are the one who kissed him

and then he leaves the room without another word

he doesn’t return that night and you don’t manage to sleep either

you wonder when you started becoming used to falling asleep with him in the same room

jongho clears his throat awkwardly when you open the door in the morning and find him leaning against the wall just by the doorframe

you’re not sure whether he came back not too long ago from god knows where, or whether he was actually standing guard outside all night

you think you know which one it is, even if he doesn’t confirm it

“we’re checking out,” he mumbles, shuffling briskly into the room to grab his few belongings he had left and exiting the room again with you trailing behind

neither of you say much more to each other

you think that he’s going to lead you back the way you two came, lead you back and undo the weeks’ worth of journeying and go back to the castle

but then he’s sighing, deep and burdened, and he gently takes your hand to continue on towards denport

he’s never held your hand before

not like this, at least, tenderly tugging you along with every step so that you are no more than a few inches away from his side

you want to bicker with him and chortle together like usual but you keep quiet, giving him the space that he appears to need even if he is physically ensuring you are tucked right into his side

you two walk until the sun has dipped below the horizon

from what you know, you are right along the southern border and denport will only be another half day’s walk away

jongho makes a small bonfire before he joins you to lean against a fallen log

he shimmies off his coat and drapes it over your legs and then the forest also settles into silence along with you both

it’s now or never

“why are you so against us going to the border?” you ask him

he runs his fingers through his hair

an unruly tuft of hair stays upright and you fold your arms to stop yourself from reaching out and smoothening it for him

he looks at you as he says, “i’m fine with me going to the border, it’s you i’m not fine with. you do remember that i’m your royal guard, right”

“is that all there is to your reason,” you push, “that you’re my guard?”

you both know you’re referring to more than just the argument itself

jongho’s gaze breaks away, looking ahead at the flames of the fire instead

he is silent

for once, jongho is unarmed; no immediate snark or teasing remark to toss back at you

you hear him swallow and take a breath

“i…i don’t know,” he starts. “all i know is that with each passing day, the more i want to keep you safe”

jongho looks at you again, eyebrows drawn down ever so slightly

“why do you make me feel so worried?”

at his words, your heart clenches in an unfamiliar way and you attempt to lighten the mood, “maybe you like me”

“maybe i do”

oh.

with the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, it almost looks as though he is about to cry

“please, don’t go to the border, princess,” he begs softly

his plea remains unwavering and you find your heart doing the exact opposite

after a few seconds of silence, you say

“okay, jongho. i won’t”

the tension from his shoulders seeps out and he gently tugs you towards him so he can tuck you into his side once again

“you promise that we turn around and go back tomorrow morning?”

you nod against the warmth of the crook of his neck, then murmur, “do you think father will be disappointed in me? for returning?”

he rubs a hand up and down your arm soothingly

“of course not, princess. you’ve already done so much more than you needed to. he’ll be proud of you”

and then he adds on, “just like i’m proud of you”

this is the first time anyone has ever really validated your efforts; being the youngest of a large family means you are often overshadowed

caught off guard, all you can do is whisper out, “thank you, jongho”

he hums and you feel his smile against the crown of your head

you’ve never been drunk before, but you think that this is the closest you have ever gotten

you are intoxicated by him

“if you’re thankful,” the rumble of jongho’s voice against your cheek is pleasant, “can i ask for something?”

“whatever you want”

he eases you from the comfort of his neck and tilts your chin up slightly with a finger, cheeky grin plastered across his face

“can i have some more of your lip balm?”

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

a friend requested some betrothed au tea party doodles and of course I had an absolute blast with it

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 3256 AO3

— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed. 

You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too. — In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty. 

You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was. 

— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband? 

You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you. 

— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty. 

— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe. 

— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…

He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.

— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem. He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch. 

— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me. 

— And if I wanted just you? 

König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him. 

— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place. 

— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs. 

— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness. 

— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me? 

You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation. 

— You knew who I was all along? 

— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz. 

He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant. 

You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost. 

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir? 

He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether. 

Then – he kisses them. 

One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two. 

He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning. 

Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over. 

You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing. 

— Your hands belong to an empress. 

— Thought I was a regent. 

— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja? 

You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib. 

He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it. 

— But you can trust me with your children?

— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever. 

— No one is immortal. 

— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess? 

He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…

König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be. 

— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one. 

— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally. 

— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too? 

— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron. 

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps? 

Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again. 

On the other side, however, he can do just that. 

König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper. 

— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess. 

— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this? 

— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…

With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow. 

He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress. 

König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways. 

You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a… König takes off his hood. 

— Wh…what are y… You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife. 

He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it? 

— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess? He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes. 

But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer? — I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty. 

— Just fine? 

He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don��t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude. 

— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband. You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least. 

— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz. 

— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least? 

— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place. 

— That is awful news for your empire. 

— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place. 

— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner? 

— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife. 

You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war. 

He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband. 

— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness? 

— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that. 

You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry. — I thought you wanted me to meet your harem. 

— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right? 

He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Limitless

servant?san x queen!reader (more like king's right hand!san)

royal au, forbidden love

word count: 28k

genres and warnings: a lil fluff, a lil angst, smut (mdni!), reader is in a contract marriage but no actual cheating happens, abusive husband, violence and blood, lmk if i missed smth

synopsis: you're the princess of utopia, queen of eden by marriage to the king. for a whole year of marriage, you've taken his abuse but you're planning his downfall and you find an unexpected ally in the king's right hand choi san. he not only helps you plan but also shows you how it is like to be truly loved and wanted.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (she wrote royal au san and then she triggered me to write this)

You had long since stopped listening to the court members defend their opinions on revising the trade system- if you were ever once interested in how the kingdom ran, you’d only found yourself losing interest with each passing day- even though the kingdoms in question might be two of your own- one by birth and one by marriage.

Marriage, you scoffed internally. What a joke.

As one of the maids poured red wine into your glass- the only thing that seemed to keep you sane these days- you thanked her and struggled to contain the sigh when the king clinked against his glass to get everyone’s attention, silence spreading throughout the hall in an instance. The court members across the table looked eagerly at their young king who met eyes with everyone with a smile before he cleared his throat.

“I hear your concerns, and I hear your opinions. If I may… Lord Kang? What do you suggest we do to balance our imports and exports? We do not want the public to wonder if we’re relying too much on Utopia.”

You cast a glance towards the man seated across the table from you, his eyes fixated on Lord Kang who got up and began, “We’ve always had good relations with Utopia, especially after the union of our kingdoms not too long ago, Your Highness. I think if there is no conflict in the dealings, as long as the people get what they want, it won’t matter even if we rely too much on Utopia-”

“Are you suggesting that we actually rely too much on Utopia? Because I did not imply that that is the case. I simply do not want the people to stir… rumours.”

You watched the men around Lord Kang hush him. You stifled the urge to roll your eyes- it had always been like this-

“What does Her Majesty think?” Lord Jung’s voice brought you back to your senses and you straightened a bit, your eyes involuntarily travelling to meet the King’s whose expressions were unreadable yet again.

“I’ll have to agree with Lord Kang,” you finally said and a murmur sounded across the room. “Trade has run constantly for a decade now. I do not think there is a reason to worry about the public yet. As far as balancing our imports and exports are concerned… I am not against the idea if the production of trade materials is stable. But overall… I don’t think it will create much of a difference. What does Lord Park have to say about this?”

You managed to steer the discussion to Lord Park who further added to your point and you smiled to yourself as the people in the room nodded along and Lord Choi, the King’s Right Hand, concluded the agenda. You made the mistake of meeting your husband’s eyes once more and this time, you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

Your husband. The youngest king in Eden’s history, adored by the public, known for his brains. His brains had once attracted you-

And then you married him and found out just what sort of a person he truly was. A routine occurrence now, something you were sure you would be experiencing tonight too.

And sure enough, after a hearty dinner (though your appetite decreased with each passing second) and chats with the people of the court, when you retired for the night, you went to your room accompanied by guards- guards who would station themselves a good distance away whenever the King would return to his chambers. You never met eyes with the guards- you didn’t want to see any sort of pity in their eyes for you. Your personal maid was enough for that, though she never offered a word of kindness- you wondered if that would be considered treason or if the maid was just being cautious.

After taking a bath, you changed into a black silk nightgown that covered almost all of your skin. Maybe that would provoke the King less. You were just wondering if you should change into something that would make visible the marks your husband would leave on you tonight when you heard the sound of the doors opening- a sound that made your hair raise even after almost a year of your marriage. You heard the maids greet the King before scurrying off, and the door shut with a click. You remained sitting at the vanity brushing your hair while he leaned against the doorframe, inspecting you.

“Quite talkative today, are we?”

You didn’t respond. You still didn’t know whether responding made it better or worse. 

“I just need to ask you one thing, y/n,” he scoffed, running a hand through his light brown hair and approaching you slowly, coming to stand behind you so you could see him in the mirror. Your hands lay limp in your lap and you didn’t dare to meet his eyes in case he would think you were challenging him-

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

You did, and you knew instantly that there was no avoiding what was coming next. He placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them painfully. 

“How dare you challenge me during court?”

“I did not challenge you-”

“Do you think just because you’re the Princess of Utopia and Queen of Eden, you’re more powerful than me? Why don’t you run the kingdom then? I could sit back and relax-”

“You’re hurting me,” you managed to whisper, not being able to tolerate the pain of his fingers digging into your shoulders as if he wanted to rip you to shreds.

And perhaps he did. It had become a norm now, and you would always go someplace else. The pain didn’t register when he pushed you to the ground. You didn’t hear his screams though you could tell he was angry by the way he looked at you, eyes bloodshot. You weren’t in control of yourself when you would instinctively raise your arms to protect yourself from the object being thrown at you, from him-

Though you were no match for him. He would effortlessly pin you and scream in your face and do whatever he liked with you.

And with each passing day, you wished it would somehow be over. Your will to fight back was dimming now. So you let the King, loved by all of Eden and Utopia, your husband, have his way until he grabbed your face, yelled a warning that you didn’t process, and finally stormed out of the room with a shive. The flashes of black and red in front of your eyes finally began to clear, instead seeping in your skin and registering as pain.

Pain. Burning, endless pain.

You took a deep sigh, not making the effort to move. The cold floor against your cheek was comforting enough. You lay there sprawled on the floor, your hair all around you and matted to your skin, your eyes fixated on the broken ornament that had been a wedding gift from your mother. You wished to gather the pieces and glue them back together as if that could reverse the events of tonight, but you knew that it would never be whole again. 

You would never be whole again-

The sound of the door creaking open yet again was what finally made you snap up with panic welling in your chest and you crawled to the shards, trying to hide your wounds and gathering the shards in your hands at the same time- you could protect that, you could still save it-

“Your Majesty.”

You froze in your spot- that was not the King. That voice was the next familiar thing. Your shoulders relaxed just a bit though the tension in your muscles was finally starting to hurt. You remained silent and continued to gather the big pieces of what was once a glass crane while you heard the man inch towards you and finally settle down on one knee beside you.

If you were expecting another reprimand, you didn’t get that. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh before gently picking the shards from your hand and spreading a handkerchief on the ground, collecting them in it. You handed him the rest and finally looked at him, your hair obstructing your vision.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He pursed his lips, folding the pieces gently in the cloth and getting up to place it back on your vanity. He looked down at you and shook his head in disappointment-

“I’ve had enough of that sorry excuse of a man.”

You raised a brow- that was quite a contrast from the first and only time he had seen you in this state. You pushed your hair back, noticing the fire in his eyes-

Lord Choi San, the King’s Right Hand. His loyal servant. He really shouldn’t be here.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though he wasn’t having any of it. “Please do not do anything stupid on my behalf and leave. I am okay-”

“No, you’re not,” his voice was low and he shook his head. He took one step towards you and then he stormed out of the room, silently clicking the door behind him. You looked around at the mess your husband had created and wondered where you should start fixing it- from yourself? You were far too tired for that, so you got up with pain shooting in your left limbs from your fall. You started picking the objects around the room, your thoughts drifting to Lord Choi.

The first time he had witnessed you in that state, you had heard urgent knocks on the main door. The King had just stormed off to his private chambers after venting out his frustrations on you. Thinking it was your maid who, at that time, used to come after his sessions to clean up after him, you opened the door only to find someone else entirely.

Lord Choi’s eyes first met your tear-stained ones and then travelled to the bruise on your cheekbone and you saw recognition click in his face as horror washed over him. 

“Where is… the King?” He managed to ask, his eyes scanning your figure and you folded your arms in an attempt to hide the bruises forming there.

“Probably where he has been since the day we got married. You, of all people, should know you will rarely ever find the King in our shared chamber at night time… Lord Choi San.”

He frowned and turned to leave but then he turned towards you again, making you pause in the middle of shutting the doors. 

“Why do you let him do this to you?”

He sounded so angry at that moment. He had never been angry at you- in fact, as the King’s Right Hand you interacted with him once in a while and always found him warm and friendly, but he sounded so angry now.You wondered who his anger was directed at for a brief moment but you were far too tired to care, so you responded with a glare before you shut the door in his face.

“I may be higher in status than your King but as his wife, I am powerless.”

That had been about a month ago. You wondered why Lord Choi had come inside your chamber this time without warning, without knocking. Did he hear everything? Did he witness the King leaving and decided to check on you, because you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have dared to enter without permission if the King had been inside-

The door opened yet again and you watched in surprise as Lord Choi extended a hand for you, a first-aid kit in his other hand. 

“You really shouldn’t be here-”

He groaned and bent down to grab your wrist and gently lifted you up, steering you to the chair you had been sitting on before all this happened. He placed the kit on the vanity and went to grab himself a chair from the other end of the room, seating himself in front of you. Silently, he opened the kit and took out tweezers, extending his hand and looking at you. You rolled your eyes and placed your right hand in his palm so he could extract the shard he had noticed earlier. 

“Did you have to pick up the glass?” He tsk-ed as you winced when he pulled out the shard. 

“It was a gift from my mother,” you explained.

“I figured, but did you have to hurt yourself more?”

You pursed your lips. “If the King comes back, you and I are both dead. You know that, right?”

“If I cared, I wouldn’t be here in the first place,” he muttered. He gently applied ointment on your finger where the shard had been, and then he looked at you for permission before rolling your sleeve up a bit where he had spotted another bruise earlier, applying the ointment there as well. He asked you to tell him where else it hurt and you rolled your other arm so he could inspect your elbow as well. Finally, his gaze fell on your neck and he waited for your permission. You looked in the mirror-

There was a scratch alright, but you looked… horrible. You tucked your hair back- at least your face was okay this time, though your eyes looked so hollow. You turned back to him and he muttered a ‘sorry’ before scooting closer and drawing your hair away from your neck, leaning in and applying the ointment on your neck- so carefully, as if he could hurt you. His hand on your shoulder, that he probably didn’t realise was there yet, was absently squeezing it reassuringly- quite a contrast to how your husband had done that. 

The air felt thick as he leaned back a little to inspect your neck. He met your eyes and you scoffed out loud. 

“If you look at me like that and hold me so gently, I might end up catching feelings for you, Lord Choi San. I’m a married woman.”

To your surprise, his permanent subtle frown melted and he failed to stifle his smile, leaning back as he looked down in an attempt to hide his face, his dark hair falling on his forehead. He looked up at you to find you attempting to stifle your own smile but also failing, and you both shared a short laugh despite the situation.

Lord Choi shook his head, exhaling. “I’m sorry. I was here earlier and I heard the noise. I should have intervened earlier- or done something about this. I’m really sorry. I should have done something before it got this bad.”

“And what could you have done?” You cocked your head. “You can’t tame a monster. You’re only human.”

He didn’t look pleased to hear that and with a disappointed look, he started to pack the kit, your eyes fixated on him all along. He got up and passed a subtle bow, turning to leave-

And perhaps, with the last shreds of strength left in you, you grabbed the edge of his sleeve, stopping him. He froze for a moment before he turned, and for the first time, he spotted vulnerability in your eyes, realising he hadn’t seen you like this ever before- not that time he first saw you in this state, not even earlier tonight when you scrambled to hide your wounds. He wondered how you could be so powerless when you wore a crown on your head.

You tightened the grip on his sleeve, ignoring the tugging feeling in your heart from the way he looked at you. “You don’t have to do anything to the King. I… I will kill him myself.”

Something in Lord Choi’s heart both broke and healed- healed due to your resolve. He put his hand over yours, squeezing it. “You don’t have to get your hands dirty… Your Majesty. I will do that for you.”

A silent understanding passed between the two of you. You understood that now was not the time to discuss this so you let him go, but for the first time-

For the first time after coming here, you felt like you could accomplish anything.

—--------------------------

For the next couple of days, you remained in your chambers, not even bothering to get sun. The King would occasionally drop by and pretend you didn’t exist or have one of his servants come by to get your signature on whatever document he needed it on. You were always careful to hide your wounds- you simply did not want anyone to make stories about why you were in that state, so you would always welcome the servants- which in the long run benefited you since they were always reliable sources on what was actually going on in the castle.

You learned that the King was not too pleased with the court session of that day, with everyone concluding that the trade dealings between Eden and Utopia should carry on as before. You had suspected right after marriage that the King had plans to disrupt the trade business and though so far most of his efforts had been in vain- after all, he had to respect the opinions of the members of his court too- he was already involved in some underground dealings. That was a rumour you heard and you just needed someone to confirm it.

So you spent your days recovering wondering if that really was the case, how could you get back at the King while maintaining your status as his wife and not losing power as the Queen? Would you have to involve the court somehow and bring attention to the matter? You knew the King had only married you to strengthen the relations between the two kingdoms and though you believed that earlier, you were beginning to wonder if the King had some other ulterior motive.

Sometimes you found yourself wondering where it had all gone wrong. Yes, marriage amongst royals was usually done with intent- the partners were always selected because of their power, influence or some other legitimate reason. You knew that, however…

Would it have been so bad if the King and you could have had a normal relationship? If you two had become friends, at least? If he had at least respected you as the Princess of Utopia? You sighed, running your fingers over the teacup you had been holding for about half an hour now. The tea had long gone cold. 

And then there was the King’s Right Hand. Choi San. The only man who ever gave you butterflies.

And that was not just on the night a couple days ago, no. From the beginning, you had admired him for his relationship with the King- back when things were still peaceful and the King talked to you properly at the very least. He had usually acted as the mediator when you discussed business with the King. As his Right Hand, he usually accompanied him everywhere and his visits to your chambers in the early months of your marriage had been quite frequent. At that time, you had thought he was quite warm and considerate. But when the King started acting differently, his visits became less frequent and perhaps, at one point, you started looking at him as an accomplice.

And then he saw you that one night and you realised he never knew what was really going on between the King and you. Between that night and the recent one, he seemed to have avoided you on purpose, but if he had…

Why did he help you?

You were still zoning out when a knock sounded on your door and one of the maids stationed in the corner went to open the door. 

“Lord Choi is here, Your Majesty.”

And there it was. The butterflies were back. You wondered if it was from nervousness.

“Let him in,” you said, and the maid bowed, letting the King’s Right Hand in and moving to the next room. Lord Choi, dressed in his deep blue uniform, made sure no one was in earshot before bowing to you and seating himself in front of you.

“Tea?” You offered. “Though it might have gone cold now.”

His eyes travelled to your cup, still half full. “Thank you, but I’ll decline. I need your signatures on… these documents.”

You leaned forward as he handed you the documents, briefing you about their contents. With a sigh, you flipped through them, signing them until you reached the last page and found a note wedged in. You frowned, opening the note and reading:

The King won’t be coming here tonight- he is having drinks with his pals. Permission to come here tonight?

You looked at him. He didn’t give away any hint of emotion on his face- trained as a servant to not react to such situations. You gave him a subtle nod and handed the documents back. He bowed and left, leaving you with your bland tea.

Night time couldn’t have approached any slower. You told your maids you had a headache and wished to rest so they dressed you up in your nightwear and tucked you in bed. As soon as they left, you were up and pacing in your room, waiting and waiting-

And then giving up and lying on the bed, almost dozing off-

Until you heard very low, subtle knocks you could have dismissed as background noise. You were up and going for the door within a second and you opened it to the man you had waited for all day, who glanced around before entering.

“Any maids inside?”

“None,” you assured him and he nodded, relaxing a bit. 

“There’s a passage to escape in your room, right?” He asked and you nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll have our meetings so I can, uh, leave if we’re compromised.”

“Lord Choi… You don’t have to sound so serious, you know,” you said- you simply couldn’t help it. He side-eyed you before motioning for you to lead him to your room.

“Just call me San.”

You resisted the urge to pause and look at him, simply nodding and the two of you sat on the sofa in your room. An awkward, almost uncomfortable silence fell as the reality of the situation started to sink in.

The King’s Right Hand in the Queen’s room in the middle of the night. His presence alone could warrant for an execution, let alone the treason you were both about to plan. San shifted awkwardly towards you, scanning your figure once. 

“Are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” you took a deep breath. “Yeah… I’m okay. The maids take care of me.”

San looked down, his fists clenching and unclenching as he wondered what to say, where to begin. You could understand his frustration. You decided to ask him something then.

“How long have you been the King’s Right Hand?”

“Long enough,” he replied. “Before that, I would accompany his father’s Right Hand. I’ve grown up here, actually, but my parents left the castle after what happened to the King and the Queen.”

He was referring to the incident that took the life of your husband’s parents- the ship sinking during their travels a few years ago. That was the first time you had visited Eden, for the funeral as a representative of Utopia since your father couldn’t make it. You recalled being impressed by how the son who just lost his parents had stood tall and assured his people that Eden would continue to thrive as it had during his parents’ reign. You also remembered your first interaction with the then Prince, soon to be crowned King, where you offered your condolences and touched on various subjects. After a proposal came only a year later, you wondered if you had made a good impression on him after all.

Oh, how you wished you could go back to that time so you never stepped foot here.

“Has he… has he always been like this?”

San looked at you- he didn’t find any hint of pain in your eyes, rather… you almost looked as if you were pitying the King for being broken were it not for the fire in your eyes. Because broken was the only word San could call the King now. No man was supposed to treat a woman this way. 

“I… I don’t know,” San admitted. “He’s never been one to waste time seeking pleasure before marriage, and I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t realise what was happening sooner.”

“It’s not like you could have done anything,” you sat back, turning to your right to pour yourself a glass of wine. You offered one to San but he refused. “What is your plan now? If your King learns what you’re doing behind his back… you realise what could happen, right?”

“I do,” he matched your gaze and you were satisfied to see that there was not a hint of doubt in his eyes. “I won’t ask you to trust me- that would be asking for a lot, but… I can help you if you tell me what you wish to do. I have already tried talking to the King about a month ago, but…” San tsk-ed in disappointment. “I don’t think I can talk him through this. And he’s never been one to keep his servants close. As a servant, I can’t dare to talk back to him.”

“Yet here you are,” you smiled, swirling the red liquid in your glass. “If it were up to you… how would you plan the downfall of the King?”

San flinched at the words- even though you had barely spoken them loud, he wished you had whispered them. But perhaps you deserved to scream those words in the open. “Well… I’ve thought about it. Realistically, if you demand a divorce, I don’t think the King will give you what you want. It might worsen the situation.”

“That’s right…” you nodded. “Carry on.”

San took a deep breath, thinking. “You cannot just go and tell someone about how you are being mistreated. The people serve the King and he holds the power. It would cost him nothing to silence someone who dares to speak out.”

“Correct. And that leaves…”

“A few options. I would not suggest actually killing the King,” San winced at the thought. “Even though it’s tempting. But there are fates worse than death… don’t you agree?”

You nodded. It looked like you and him were both thinking the same thing. 

“I think the only way you could gain something from this- because with all due respect, you shouldn’t just leave empty-handed,” San scoffed and a faint smirk crawled on your lips, “The King needs to be publicly ridiculed.”

You whistled. “What would the King say if he heard you talk like that?”

San passed you a desperate look and you chuckled to yourself. “You don’t have to be so tense. At least not with me, not here, where you’re just San and I’m just… y/n. But carry on.”

San wasn’t having any of it. “A trap of sorts. The King isn’t the saint the public makes him to be, so our only bet is to make his secret dealings public- ones which don’t benefit our kingdom. And as the Right Hand… I have intel. I just need to check a few things and then I can provide you all the information you need. It is up to you to decide what to do with it, and… you can use me in whatever way you want. I am at your disposal… Your Majesty.”

You nodded slowly, letting it sink in. “We shall plan together then?”

“Together,” he agreed, “If that is what you want.”

“I have a few… conditions.”

“Of course,” his brows furrowed as he focused on you. “Please.”

“First of all… you should start using the secret passages more- if a guard spots you entering here, it won’t be good.”

“Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem,” San agreed. 

“Right,” you nodded. “I’m blindly betting my life on you so try not to betray me, will you? Or at least let me know if you need to switch sides-”

“That- that won’t happen,” San let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he looked down. “My mother didn’t raise me like that.”

You smiled at his words. “She sounds wonderful. And San?” He looked at you and you continued, turning fully towards him. “You have to promise me something. Promise me that if you ever hear something or walk in to the King doing something to me… you will not interrupt-”

“No-”

“Let me finish,” you raised your hand and he sighed, giving in. “I already have a plan in my head, and honestly, it’s a miracle that you’re here right now. But in my big plan… I have to let the King do whatever he does to me. I cannot have you destroying everything I’ve worked for. You have to understand that if you interrupt and expose yourself… we’re both done for. We lose. I cannot lose now, do you understand?”

San looked like he was struggling to answer and you scooted closer, putting a hand on his clenched fist, making him relax a bit. “You’re already helping me out enough by simply being here. Your presence… it’s enough. I feel like I can conquer now that I know I’m not alone,” you let out a short laugh and San smiled at that. “But please. It’s a sacrifice I have to make to win.”

San put a hand over yours, stealing a glance before shaking his head. “I cannot promise, but… I will try.”

You nodded absently, focused on his firm grip on your hand, his rough fingers caressing yours almost lovingly. You shook your head to draw yourself out of the trance. You knew you were starved for affection but you hadn’t realised how much impact such a gesture would have on you. You squeezed his hand before drawing it away.

“That’s it, then…” you said. “I just have to go over a few things. You can come into my room during nighttime- it’s not like I really sleep. I’ll unlock the secret door,” you pointed to the door behind the tapestry. “You just have to make sure the King won’t be coming back for the night before you do.”

“Alright,” San got up and looked around. “There’s another door in your office, right? I might use that instead. It connects with my room too.”

“That’s better, just don’t walk into the King gloating in my office and you’re fine- it’s where he goes to ‘vent’,” you said and he scoffed.

“I’ll take my leave then. Good night, Your Majesty.”

Before he could exit the room, you said, “San? I have another condition.”

San turned, raising a brow. “And what’s that?”

“It’s y/n for you.”

San chuckled at that despite the anger that had been roiling in him since he saw you in that state. “Whatever you say… Your Majesty.”

With that, he left, leaving you smiling into the distance for a long time.

—-------------------------

The next few days, you remained as invisible as you could. You had a few meetings and a party scheduled that you had to attend along with the King, but you were careful not to challenge him in court. You did not want the King to wonder why there was suddenly life in your eyes, so you made sure to keep your eyes unreadable.

Because there was, suddenly, life in your eyes. Hope. You were beginning to feel hopeful and you knew how dangerous that was, but you couldn’t help it. Not when you finally had someone who was going to lay his life on the line for you. Now you couldn’t help but smile when something reminded you of him- whenever you planned in your head, or when you dared to note a few things down on paper only to burn it in the end because you could leave no trace… 

You would find yourself smiling as you watched the pages burn in the fireplace.

It wasn’t too hard for you to gather information about the King’s weak point. The thing about people was that they loved a good gossip session. And since the King had made the mistake of not limiting your social attendance, whenever you met up with the wives of earls or dukes, drinks would be passed and their lips would loosen. They didn’t even comprehend how dangerously the information could be used. Over the few months of your marriage, you had enough gossip in your brain that you could iron out the details for. You had a few open spots you could attack the King for- 

But you would wait for San. You needed to hear him first, because no matter how much information you had gathered, nothing could come close to what San would have as the person who knew every move his King made. 

You wondered if San would agree with you on one of these things, and you wondered which of them even held leverage, because if you went in blindly with one of these, it wouldn't end well for you and whoever sourced this information. You didn’t want to risk dragging anyone else. 

“Your next move… Your Majesty?” Your maid asked, looking at you and then at the chessboard you had been staring at for far too long.

“Oh, forgive me, I got lost in thought,” you chuckled, moving one of the rooks across the board. “Isn’t it quite late? Have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet,” the maid admitted and you narrowed your eyes in disappointment, making the young girl laugh. 

“We can continue later,” you marked the moves on the notepad and handed it to the maid who began to wrap up the board. “You should have dinner on time. You’ve got other duties too. Me? I only have to sit and look pretty.”

The maid grinned at that and bowed before leaving and you smiled at her. She was the only one who had been kind enough to keep you occupied with distractions- often bringing board games or embroidering material for when the King was away and you were all alone with your thoughts. Perhaps, she had heard from the only maid who knew how abusive the King was. Perhaps, the King had ordered the young girl to keep you entertained. You didn’t know and you couldn’t ask.

The King was on a one day trip to the neighbouring city for some ‘business’ dealing. He often went there and you were starting to suspect if there was actually some business there or if he had someone just like you in his family house. You ate dinner and waited for bedtime but the King arrived back before that, entering your chamber.

“Good evening,” you called, his maids helping him take off his coat. You glanced behind- San wasn’t with him. “I hope you had a nice trip.”

“Yeah, nothing much,” the King shrugged off the extra layers and settled on the couch. You knew that it meant that he wasn’t in a sour mood (yet) so you relaxed a bit, ordering the maids to bring some fresh tea for him. 

“Would you like to take a bath before you settle down?”

“I’ll have tea first, I’m pretty tired,” he rubbed his face and then looked at you, just having recalled. “Did you attend the dinner at the Earl’s place last night?”

“I did,” you said and he nodded in approval. “They seem to be doing quite well recently. His wife couldn’t stop flaunting her new diamond necklace.”

The King scoffed. “I told the Earl to keep it subtle, but what man can resist a celebration when he scores a good deal?”

“And what deal was that?” You crossed your legs casually, hoping to get something out of him.

“Remember the funds we were keeping aside for the army?” he asked and you nodded. “A few officials from Wonderland offered us more funds in an exchange for the blueprints of our latest weapons.”

You made an impressed face. “Sounds like a nice deal, but I wouldn’t trust Wonderland too much. They have a history of turning on you when times are tough.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re Utopian,” the King laughed. “Utopia and Wonderland have always been at each other’s throats.”

That wasn’t the truth, but you decided to not argue. You were far too tired to have another session with him. “So that is how the wife got those diamonds, huh?” You laughed. “Well deserved, then.”

“Would you like some too?” The King looked at you, eyes expectant. 

You absolutely hated when he looked at you like that. At first, you thought it was an offer to take a step to improve your relationship with him, and you would accept whatever he offered you. But no amount of diamonds or rubies could erase what he had done, you knew that. And you knew that it wasn’t an offer- it was a trap. The King was a sadistic man who just wanted to prove to you time and time again that he was in charge of making you happy.

And you could either agree and play along, or…

“I still haven’t worn the emeralds you got me last time,” you sighed wistfully as you looked towards your room where the dresser was. “I was hoping to exhibit them at some occasion first.”

“Well, an occasion is near,” he smirked. “Our anniversary.”

“That is two months away, by the way.”

“But it should be celebrated with a blast, don’t you think?” He relaxed back and you could see that he was already planning. “Maybe we could have an emerald theme for you.”

You resisted the urge to scratch his face but you only smiled. “That doesn’t sound bad, actually.”

But your heart sank when he narrowed his eyes at you. “You don’t seem too pleased, though. What more do you want?”

“Oh, no, I am pleased,” you assured. “But we don’t have to plan it right now. You must be tired.”

“I am, actually,” the King shrugged. “Might sleep here tonight.”

You contained the sigh that threatened to leave you. “Let me prepare the bed then.”

Without waiting further, you got up and walked to your room- it was your room. The King had only slept here a handful of times, and he would always leave before dawn. He had made it pretty clear it was your room. But whenever he was tired, and you supposed he needed company, he would sleep with you. Sometimes, even though you hated it, he would make you laugh. Sometimes he would kiss your forehead. One time, he even kissed your lips as he apologised for all his past actions, promising to be a better man, but he never kept his word. He may be called ‘a man of his word’ by the public but he never kept his word to you. And at this point, you were too scared to say no to him. It was a good thing that he hated you and never really touched you. That was the only reason you were still intact.

So you pretended to be pleased when the King settled down next to you. You pretended to enjoy his stupid stories of unimportant things, knowing he just wanted someone to talk to. You added in a few stories of your own, nothing that would give too much away, just so he wouldn’t think it was him making all the effort. And when he fell asleep, you forced yourself to sleep next to him, eyes fixed on the tapestry in your room.

And the next day, you woke up to find him gone. Good riddance.

And that night, you almost thought it was the King again when you heard the creak of a door and you came out of your office only to find-

“San,” you breathed, a hand on your heart from the utter relief that it was not your husband. “A little warning next time, maybe.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your hand in dismissal, scanning him. “I didn’t see you with the King last night. Did you not go with him on that trip?”

“He told me I could have the night off as soon as we entered the castle,” San stepped closer, his eyes scanning everywhere on your body. “Are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you last night, did he?”

You stifled a smile at his worry. “He didn’t. He slept here last night. He was too tired to do anything, and I was careful.”

“Good,” San nodded. “Because I have news. Where do we…?”

You guided him to your office, telling him he could easily hide here if you two ever got interrupted because your office looked more like a storage than an actual office, with books and boxes everywhere. It was your comfort space, though. You resumed arranging the documents from the previous meeting while he spoke.

“Do you know what goes on in the family house?”

“I bet it’s not anything I’d like to know?” You looked at him and he nodded. “Well then, don’t tell me.”

“The… people, there,” San was careful to word it correctly. “Often bring news. They are more like his spies. And I’ve heard that Wonderland and Eden’s deal might not work- something about foreign interference. The King doesn’t know yet.”

“Ah,” you put the papers down. “He seemed quite pleased that it had worked. Not just him- the Earl I went to the day before.”

“Right,” San walked around the room, inspecting the bookshelves. “I saw it coming, but… I thought I’d let you know. The King will be angry when he learns about this.”

You realised then that San was also warning you long with all the planning. You pursed your lips. “Thanks for letting me know. Did you think about a plan?”

You seated yourself in front of him in the spare chairs as he folded his arms in thought. “It might be a little selfish, maybe sadistic…”

“All the better,” you confirmed and he scoffed, making you shrug in amusement. 

“I think if we have to bring the King down… we should target his strength, not his weaknesses. So you might have to change your approach.”

You raised a brow. “How so?”

“What is the King well known for? What is the King proud of?”

“A number of things, but… his dedication? His loyalty to the people?”

“Close,” San straightened before leaning forward and locking eyes with you. “Ever since he was just a prince, he was known to never go back on his word. He keeps his promises with his people. And just recently, he has promised the people that there won’t be another repetition of what happened two decades ago when Wonderland and Eden almost went to war. When countless people were killed while preparing for a war that never happened.”

“When Utopia intervened and stopped the war before it could happen,” you recalled and San nodded.

“The people of Eden have always been wary of Wonderland. The King promised that there will be peace. But how would the people feel if they learned that the King is joining hands with the Wonderland military to start annexing islands around their territories?”

You frowned. “I thought it was only Mist Island? And in that case, Mist Island was once Eden.”

San shook his head. “I wish it was only Mist Island. They’re targeting at least three islands other than Mist Island and they will attack all at once. The military of Eden and Wonderland will work together- and we all know how hungry for power Wonderland is. They won’t stop there- after Wonderland helps us take over every island in our territory, Wonderland will use the blueprints our King himself provided and take over our land- I suspect this, but the King refuses to see this right now because Wonderland has managed to bribe everyone in power, including him. They are not only providing military funds but their own military too. They’re going to attack from the inside when they begin their plan.”

You took a deep breath. “Are you sure about all of this? One hundred percent?”

“Yes,” San nodded. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here because I don’t know who else to turn to. Everyone else is too blind to see it. And I’m not only joining you because I want to help you- you’re literally the only person who could stop this, Your Majesty. I would have come to you even if the King and you were on good terms.”

You considered that, feeling overwhelmed by his revelation. “What prompted you to take this step, San?” You asked, genuinely curious. “Because if the King learns about this, he would consider it a betrayal. And I’m not talking about our ‘revenge’.”

San took a deep breath. “When my father was the Right Hand, he was more like an advisor to the King, may he rest in peace. My father has long since retired but he has only given me one piece of advice that stuck with me- he said that sometimes, the people in power cannot see the sufferings of the common man when they make such big decisions. It is our duty to make them see it. And believe me, I have tried,” San laughed in defeat. “I told the King that it was a bad idea to join hands with Wonderland, even before your marriage. I respected him as a man, as a ruler, and when he didn’t take my advice, I accepted it. I thought maybe I was the only one who couldn’t see the big plan. But now that you’ve admitted that yourself even just with Mist Island… I think you can see it. You can feel the pain of the civilians. And that is the most respectable quality a ruler could possess.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, fidgeting nervously. Even in your reign as a princess back in Utopia, no one had ever said such kind words about you. No one had ever acknowledged you, and it was as if San could really see who you were.

“And I… I once respected the King as a man. Not anymore. Not after I told him that the way he treated you was no way for a king to treat his queen and he threatened to fire me. I told him to go ahead but he let me go with a warning to not involve myself in his personal matters. But what kind of a man treats his wife like that? I just can’t respect him anymore. I refuse to be a part of his schemes.”

“That’s… impressive, Choi San,” you finally said and he raised his brows at the way you looked at him. “I always liked you but I didn’t know you had such respectable values. Your parents have raised you very well.”

“Your husband… his parents raised him quite well too. I don’t understand what happened to him. If they were alive… none of this would be happening. None of this.”

You nodded. If they were alive… you would have liked them. Your chest felt tight all of a sudden.

“You know,” you laughed sarcastically as you got up, turning your back towards the King’s Right Hand. “Sometimes I wondered if I was doing something wrong. I wondered if I was too over my head or thought too highly of myself. I thought I deserved this. And if you hadn’t told me the things you told me tonight… I would have continued to blame myself even after we got our revenge. So thank you, San. Thank you for acknowledging me and believing me when no one did. Thank you for caring for the people and worrying about this kingdom when no one else is. I will make sure everyone knows that they owe it to you, because I will expose the King. I will not let Eden fall. I am the Queen, and I will not let my people down.”

San’s heart ached at the way your voice almost cracked at the end, and then it swelled in pride because you, despite being treated that way by the King, cared about the people. As if the people had done anything for you. San got up and slowly walked to you, knowing you were holding back from the way your shoulders tensed and relaxed repeatedly. He wished you had someone by your side to comfort you at this moment, but you had no one. You were so alone here.

So he decided to be that for you- at least for tonight, for this moment. He put his hands on your shoulders softly, almost cursing himself when you flinched but relaxing with you as you subtly nodded to let him know that it was okay. 

“You…” San began, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re a very strong person. I’m sorry that Eden has only let you down even after all this time, and I’m thankful beyond words that despite all of that, you are choosing to stand up for us. I’m sorry that you have to go through whatever you are going through, but none of it, absolutely none of it is your fault, okay? A king is supposed to cherish his queen. A queen is supposed to be the only person the king bows to. The only person a king would take an arrow for. You may not be his queen, but you are my queen. You are my queen and the people’s queen. They look up to you. And they will protect you when the time comes. So don’t be too hard on yourself, Your Majesty. You owe us nothing, but we will never forget what you have and will do for us.”

You nodded and wiped your face. He squeezed your shoulders assuringly, letting his hands trace your arms before squeezing them too. “I am here for you, Your Majesty. I am here… y/n.”

You laughed a little at that, glad he couldn’t see you but you knew he was smiling too. “This is not a good time to call my name, San. I’m very vulnerable right now.”

San couldn’t help but feel curious. He knew he was treading on very dangerous lines, but…

“Y/n.”

You sighed deeply at that. His hands still on your upper arms caressing the bare skin did not help at all. 

“Would it be too much if I asked for a hug?” 

San instantly knew that you had never received a genuine hug since you arrived here from your voice alone. From the way your shoulders kept curling in. From the way your fists were so tight. Perhaps, not even the maids had helped you- he knew the King was sadistic enough to make sure of that. So San crossed the line, let his hands travel further down to unclench your fists and lined them. He heard your breath hitch when he raised your linked hands, when you realised what he was about to do. And then his heart sank in the most beautiful way when he wrapped your linked arms around your waist, when your back met his body and you melted into the hug, when he found your hearts beating in synchronisation. 

And he let you stand like that for the longest time, rocked you lightly in the hug until you had your fill. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. He did not know and he did not wish to find out. When you finally squeezed his hands, he let you go and was surprised to find how reluctant he was.

You couldn’t face him, though. You were afraid you would break down or do something worse. So you only said, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime, Your Majesty.”

You frowned at his intentional switch to your title, and when you found him grinning, you thought it was the most beautiful thing you had seen in a while. He bowed and left, and you didn’t plan anything. You simply sat on your chair and thought about how he felt against you for the rest of the night.

—---------------------------

You and San were starting to fall into a little routine now. 

It looked like the deal with Wonderland was really happening. The King hadn’t told you anything more about that plan, but he became busier and you were careful to avoid him as much as you could- that man could not cope with stress and would only take it out on you if you so much as breathed in the wrong way. You would only interact once at the end of the day when he would come into your chamber to visit his office- much of which he had moved to his private chamber now- and you would ask him how his day was and if he needed anything. You were glad he was busy and didn’t have time to look at you. You didn’t want to be looked at anyway.

San, however, was updating you almost daily. Every night after the King would settle in his own room, after about an hour or two, San would knock on the door that opened to your room and you would let him in. You would both then spend the rest of the time in your office where you would match your information, plan out the next strategy and…

Talk. Simply talk like two normal human beings who didn’t bear such heavy titles.

You loved hearing San talk. His voice was soothing- even when you had only interacted with him formally, you had noticed how soothing his voice was whenever he talked to you, whenever he switched his tone with you. Around the King or when on duty, he was a different man, but perhaps, this was who San really was. Perhaps, this was what San sounded like- like morning dew on a clear day. Whenever San told you something about himself, you always listened carefully. You noted how his eyes would curve ever so slightly whenever he talked about his hometown, of his parents and siblings, of his friends who were scattered across the kingdom. 

Sometimes, between talking, he would suddenly become aware. He would pause and straighten and you would see the physical shift in his body as he reminded himself that he was the King’s Right Hand and shouldn’t be here in the middle of the night trading stories with you. But he couldn’t help it- he didn’t like how wary you would become whenever he started acting like his title. So he would urge himself to relax a bit, just so you could have some peace of mind. 

You hadn’t told San much about yourself, but he had learned a lot of things about you in the past two weeks. He learned that the King was manipulating you- he would behave well with you whenever he needed favours from you as the Princess of Utopia but as soon as he got the job done, he would go back to being the same. He learned how big a role you played as a Princess back in your kingdom and how involved you really were. He also realised that the King probably wanted to lessen your involvement before he could carry out the plan.

But these were the things he already somewhat knew. What he hadn’t realised was how strong you were and how brave you were. What he didn’t know was how you were still just someone yearning to be loved and treated right. When you asked him one day if he considered you a friend, San had been silent for a long time.

“I’ve never really had a true friend,” you laughed as you said. “You know how it is with us. People are always after something. They’re always using you and you learn to use them in return and call it a ‘friendship’. They don’t think twice before stabbing you in the back. So I wonder… even if we are somewhat using each other… would you say that we are friends?”

And when he only stared at you for a long time, you sighed. “I get it. You’re the King’s Right Hand. You can’t be friends with the Queen. I get it, really-”

“No, it’s not that, I…” San laughed nervously. “I just… I’m flustered, I’ll admit it. Seems like I’m still getting used to the fact that you are the queen and I’m only a mere servant, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, please,” you tossed the ball of yarn you had been playing with at him and he caught it with a laugh. “I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t know you call me ‘Your Majesty’ on purpose now.”

“It’s what I’m used to,” he pouted.

“Also… you’re not just a ‘mere servant’, San,” you insisted. “If I cared about titles, I wouldn’t have given you the power to control my fate. Because my fate is in your hands now. You could do anything with all the information you have now-”

“I would never-”

“I know,” you smirked. “Just letting you know that I’d rather be your friend than your enemy, ever.”

San had laughed at that, the first time he had ever truly laughed in front of you, and you wondered if that was the moment when he finally started loosening up, when he admitted that it was an honour that you would offer your friendship to him and you scolded him again. When he started treating you more casually, calling you by your title only teasingly. When he started worrying about you and making sure you were eating properly and staying out of the King’s way when he was sensitive. 

And when it felt like he was finally starting to treat you as an equal. Just a couple nights ago, you told him that over a chess game with him as you planned.

“Sometimes I wonder if this was all I needed,” you said. “Maybe I just needed someone who wouldn’t hold me in such high reverence or wouldn’t dismiss me as if I meant nothing. I hope you see me as an equal, San.”

“I do,” he admitted, but dropped your queen piece on the board and called checkmate, making you gape at him. “Which is why I’m not letting you win this game.”

You were just staring at the chessboard and recalling that fond memory when one of your maids knocked on the door. 

“The King requests your presence in the Great Hall,” she said. “Something about planning your anniversary party.”

“Isn’t it too soon for that?” You wondered, looking in the mirror to make sure you looked presentable. 

“I’ve heard some officials from Wonderland are visiting soon so the King is wondering if it would be too bad to kill two birds with one stone,” she said casually, shrugging. “Not a bad idea. We haven’t had a party in long.”

You shot her a dirty look but she only grinned before opening the door for you. 

The Great Hall was surprisingly full. You recognised the court people and a group of people around the King who you presumed were the event planners. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes- it looked like the King was doing pretty okay all by himself. What did he need you for-

“Your Majesty,” one of the court people who noticed you first got up, drawing everyone’s attention to you and the King patted the chair next to him- 

Between him and San.

Your heart sank and you greeted everyone before joining them at the end of the hall. San got up and bowed to you before drawing the seat for you and you thanked him.

“The guest of honour arrives!” The King announced and everyone raised their glasses. You smiled at them before turning towards your husband. 

“What is going on?”

“Oh, we’re just planning a party for you,” he leaned forward to speak in your ear. “The Prince of Wonderland arrives next week. I thought we could use our anniversary party as an excuse to welcome him as well.”

“Good idea, actually,” you said and shifted away subtly- you did not want him breathing down your neck. “In that case, the emerald theme sounds nice too. Emerald is Wonderland’s colour.”

“Oh, I totally forgot about that, thanks for reminding me,” he grinned, the man next to him calling him to look over something and you exhaled, running your eyes across the table to take everyone in. They all seemed to be talking about Wonderland, though.

“Your Majesty,” San called and you turned to him, surprised. “I just need your confirmation on a few things.”

“Go ahead,” you said and he called one of the event planners and you spent about half an hour running over everything with them. The King would join in between to tweak it a little, and finally…

“Sounds like we have a plan,” the King announced, pleased. “Shall we have dinner now?”

You excused yourself and went to join the women at the other end of the table where dinner was served. You tried not to look at San who was seated in front of you next to the King. Everyone congratulated you and the King for sticking with each other for a whole year and you felt disgusted at the King’s attempt to flatter you. As if he had ever acted like a husband. However, you made sure to smile at the right time and nod along. You had a throbbing headache by the time it was over. You dismissed the maids after they prepared your bath and soaked in it for a long time before dressing for bed.

But you couldn’t sleep. You felt such anger in you. You had never felt this angry before- not even when the King first showed his true colours. How dare that man use the excuse of your anniversary to pretend that the party was in your honour, that he was ‘lucky to have you as a wife’ as he said in the Great Hall just earlier? How dare he use the excuse of your anniversary party to welcome the Prince of Wonderland who had time and time again turned his back on Utopia, on your people?

You stood by the window staring holes into the fireplace and you almost didn’t hear the subtle knocks next to you. You uncovered the door and found San already peeking inside.

“I got worried for a second- I had been knocking for a minute now,” San entered and you drew the curtains on the window. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just zoning out,” you said, wincing when a sharp pain shot through your head again. San frowned at that.

“Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

“Just a headache,” you assured him, but he wasn’t having any of it. 

“Do you have chamomile here? Let me make you some tea-”

“It’s okay-”

“Please, I insist,” he guided himself out and you almost smiled at how he naturally took charge. He went to the kitchen, found the drawer where you kept your tea and began to boil some water. You leaned next to the doorframe as he prepared the cups and he glanced at you, chuckling at the way you stood watching him.

“I quite like the sight of you in the kitchen. Maybe you could switch from Right Hand to personal maid.”

San snickered at that. “I bet you’d like that. Didn’t you have a headache just now? Go sit or something.”

You pouted at that and when he finished pouring the water into the cups, you decided to settle on the couch in your office. 

“So?” San asked after taking a few sips. “What brings the headache tonight?”

“As if you don’t know,” you glared at him from the corner of your eye. “I didn’t realise the King was this enthusiastic about hosting Wonderland here.”

“I didn’t either, trust me,” San admitted, putting his cup on the table. “Something must have changed while I was away.”

San was referring to the two-day leave he got to visit home. You nodded in agreement. “Do let me know when you catch up with your King.”

You didn’t mean to sound so bitter and San looked surprised as well. You drank another sip before placing the cup on the table and getting up, going towards the window and opening it. You needed air. You needed to take a few, deep breaths-

“What’s wrong?” San almost whispered, not too far from where you stood.

“Nothing, I just need some air,” you muttered.

“Please, y/n? You promised not to hide anything from me.”

“I don’t know, I’m just so angry, San,” you sighed deeply. “I really don’t like playing along with this. That man will pretend to be affectionate at the party but I know the Prince will do something to tick him off and he’ll come to take it all out on me. I don’t want to prepare or plan for a party that I know will not end up well.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “It’s getting harder for me to keep playing along, and I’m afraid I will snap and do something irreversible, and all that we have worked for will be in vain.”

“That won’t happen,” he said and it sounded like a promise even when you knew it wasn’t. “You’re doing so well. You won’t give in. I know how the Prince loves to mock you, but… try not to mock him back this time, will you? Even though I love how you always show him his place…”

You laughed at that and San joined. He placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. He scanned your face with a smile. “You’re so strong, and you’re holding up so well. You don’t even have to think of that event as an anniversary if that is what bothers you. It won’t be long after that we can finally put our plan to action.”

“That doesn’t bother me,” you told him. “I just… I wish, I-”

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit it. Not now. But how could you hold back when he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he had laid his eyes on? You sometimes hated the adoration in San’s eyes. How could you hold back when he held you like you were fragile? How could you not tell him that when you sat next to him today at the Great Hall… you wished he was the one who was yours? Not only by title, but truly, wholly yours?

You weren’t sure if San could read that in your eyes- he was pretty good at reading you. But when you tried to turn away from him, he grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you right there. He stepped closer to you.

“Look at me.”

You couldn’t.

“Look at me, y/n,” he said and you shook your head but he brought his hand to your face, glad that you didn’t flinch for once and tucked your hair behind your ear before cupping your face and making you lock eyes with him.

“It’s going to be over soon, I promise,” he said, caressing your hand that he was already holding. “And then you are free. I can’t imagine how tough it is for you to simply hang in there and wait, but-”

“But you make it better,” you whispered, your gaze falling to his locked lips. “You… I wish I… I wish that you-”

San let go of your hand to put a finger on your lips, surprising you and himself. “Don’t say it, y/n. Don’t say it.”

And then you knew. You knew that you weren’t wrong. You knew that perhaps, he felt a fraction of what you felt for him. And you could see how tense he was, how much he was holding back. He kept scanning your face, his gaze falling on your lips multiple times. He shook his head, attempting to draw himself out of the trance and he drew his finger away but you took that opportunity to bring your hand to his face-

Oh, how devastatingly beautiful he was. How much you loved his little gestures that you were sure no one but you noticed- the slightest frowns, the twitch of his lips, the clenching of his jaw. You caressed his face and he looked helpless. 

“Why?” You finally asked.

He didn’t respond. His hand snaked behind your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek and then he leaned forward just the tiniest bit. You responded by doing the same and you both found yourselves leaning into each other- by this point, his breath caressed your lips-

And before you could take another step, you heard the main door unlocking and your eyes went wide with fear. San instantly stepped away from you and you looked at the escape door, praying that one made less noise before you calmed your breathing, picked the extra cup and placed it on the shelf, and appeared out of your office-

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“And you’re up late,” the King scanned you. “What were you doing?”

“I just woke up with a headache so I made some tea for myself and was going through some stuff in the office. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just needed to get something from my office-”

“At this hour?” You made the mistake of asking and he paused to glare at you.

“And? What about it?”

“Nothing,” you raised your hands in surrender. “I’ll give you space.”

You started towards your room but he grabbed your wrist and you couldn’t help but compare it to a certain someone- your husband’s grip was always a bit too strong. You turned to face him and your heart sank when he looked angry.

“Look, I’m not in the mood to fight tonight, but I have to warn you,” he began, his grip tightening again making you wince. “Do not mess with any plans. Do not challenge the Prince of Wonderland when he comes. It won’t end well for us if you do.”

“Okay, I won’t,” you said, trying to extract your hand back but he pulled you towards him, pointing a finger in your face for good measure before letting you go. 

You knew then- you wouldn’t try anything but you wouldn’t let the Prince disrespect you or your kingdom, no matter the consequences.

—--------------------------

“The gloves, the gloves!” Your maid called and another maid brought a box from the bed, the group of them squealing at how pretty the emerald net gloves were and you shut your eyes, annoyed, but you couldn’t help laughing along with them.

“You lot can have them if you like them so much.”

“Oh no, we wouldn’t,” the youngest of the three said. “But… maybe after the party, Your Majesty?”

You pretended to think and then nodded and they jumped up and down. You gaped at them. “Who assigned you little birds to help me get ready tonight?”

“We’re in training and we’re the best in the class,” the one who seemed to be the oldest said. “The Head Maid expects good results and we shall deliver.”

“We’ve always wanted to get you ready, and what better day than your anniversary party?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the mirror. Your anniversary party. What mockery. You checked your curls one last time- the girls had done a pretty good job, actually. Your hair fell in elegant curls by the sides, half pinned up. They kept the makeup quite natural and you liked that. The dress- a ‘gift’ from the King, but really, you knew that he had probably asked one of his designers to do something about it. The dress was beautiful. It was sleek and fell to your feet with a slit in the leg. Everything about you tonight screamed elegant.

You wished you felt as good as you looked.

You wore the gloves, completing the look and admired yourself in the mirror. The sleeves also hung along with the dress though there was a slit for your hands so they wouldn’t get in the way. You had matching heels as well.

“So pretty,” one of them wiped a tear. “Shall we go now?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You reminded yourself to stay low but keep your back straight. You had nothing to be afraid of.

You started hearing the music as soon as you left your chamber. There were decorations everywhere in black and emerald colours. You subconsciously touched the emerald earrings you were wearing- even though you wanted to throw these beauties away, you had to wear them and flaunt them at the event tonight. You had to let everyone know that your ‘loving’ husband got them as a gift for you. 

Tonight was truly going to be all about your patience, and you could not snap.

You entered the ballroom as the maids announced your arrival and joined the King who was waiting for you next to the Prince of Wonderland in a corner. You bowed to the Prince who bowed back.

“I must congratulate you on your anniversary, first,” he began. “Time flies. My wife has sent some gifts for you.”

“Please send her my regards,” you smiled. “I hope she can make it here next time.”

The Prince laughed at that and the King pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’m going to announce your arrival now.”

You nodded and the King signalled the musicians to stop. As hundreds of eyes trained on you, you stood tall, the King’s hand resting on your back a reminder. He took a deep breath.

“Thank you all for making it tonight. Please join me in warmly welcoming the arrival of the star of tonight’s event- esteemed ruler and wife, the Queen!”

Everyone applauded and you bowed once to them with a smile. Next, the King nodded and said, “I must also welcome the guest of honour- the Prince of Wonderland. I hope you make him feel at home during his stay.”

The Prince bowed and applause filled the room again. The King cued the musicians and everyone went back to what they were doing.

“You can go socialise and join us for dinner, okay?” The King said and you nodded, spotting San in the crowd who was making his way to you-

Looking absolutely breathtaking in a black suit with his hair slicked back, tendrils falling onto his forehead.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed and you acknowledged him, both of you scanning each other for a good moment. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“I was just leaving,” you told him, glancing towards the King who seemed to be listening in to your conversation. San nodded and passed you to go to the King and whisper something in his ear. You stood inhaling the woody scent of whatever cologne he was wearing before urging yourself to move. 

Dinner time approached rather quickly- there were too many people stopping by to chat with you- officials and royals from around the continent- and you didn’t have one moment to breathe. You were relieved when they announced that everyone should move to the Great Hall for dinner. You joined the King who seemed to be too involved in his discussion with the Prince to offer you an arm an accompany you-

“Shall I escort you?” San offered and you stifled a smile, noticing the hint of mischievousness in his eyes.

“Why not?” You put a hand on his outstretched arm. The King spared a glance and nodded and you finally relaxed- it wasn’t unusual for San to accompany you at such times. However…

This time it was different.

Everything had been different from a few nights ago when you both almost… you didn’t dare to think of it. After the King interrupted that moment, you were both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because you were the King’s wife, the Queen and you shouldn’t have tried anything like that. 

And disappointed because you wished you had gotten a taste of his lips.

“Tired?” San asked in a low voice, making you blink. 

“A little,” you admitted. “Everything okay at your side?”

“Yep,” he replied and you nodded, walking in silence the rest of the way until you reached the hall. You sat on one side of the King, the Prince on the other side in front of you. Dinner was served and you chatted with the female envoy from Wonderland at your left.

“I must say, you look quite breathtaking, Your Majesty,” the Prince called, winking at the King. “Looks like your husband is taking care of you.”

You stilled for the slightest moment. You weren’t sure if the Prince’s comment was intentional. You looked at the King and made yourself relax. “Definitely.”

“And you look lovely in Wonderland’s colour,” he commented further, stuffing his mouth with food as he scanned you.

“Ah, the emerald was my idea. These,” you pointed at your earrings, “were a gift from my husband. I decided the occasion called for it.”

“She loves her emeralds,” the King chuckled. “Don’t seem too flattered, though, Prince. All this emerald decor is to match with my wife, not to welcome you.”

“I wouldn’t dare assume,” the Prince laughed and you grimaced at how chummy the two were. “Though, now that we’re talking about it, with how good our dealings have been going recently, you could have easily fooled me into believing that tonight was all about me.”

“Ah,” the King shifted in his seat. “The emeralds are older than the deal though.”

The three of you chuckled at that- you knew they weren’t. You recalled what the King had said about sucking it up to the Prince and you decided now was the right moment. “Maybe the emeralds were intentional- my husband has been very eager with the deal.”

The King nodded in approval and the Prince said, “Well, I’m quite fond of how things have turned out too. But I did have a thought that you might entertain, Your Majesty, if I may?”

You frowned in confusion, glancing at your husband who looked as confused. “Sure, by all means.”

“Would it be too bad if Utopia sided with us on this one?” The Prince wiped his face. “It wouldn’t be too bad to have a third nation with us- of course, Wonderland will offer something in return.”

“I… I’ll put a word for you but I’m not the Queen of Utopia, I’m only the Princess,” you told him, faking a smile. “It might be a bit tough given how things turned out the last time.”

“Technical difficulties, I believe,” the Prince coughed- he was all too familiar with how Wonderland had turned its back on Utopia. “Things have changed now, haven’t they?”

“I couldn’t be the judge of that,” you sipped your wine and when the King sent a warning glare in your direction, you cleared your throat. “But I will send word.”

“Fair enough,” the Prince scoffed at that and you knew from the shift in the air that your words had pulled some string that shouldn’t have been pulled. Maybe the King had gone ahead and promised Utopia’s cooperation on his own.

You found that out soon enough.

After dinner and a speech from the King, the party concluded and you farewelled the guests before you accompanied the King back to your chambers. The Prince parted ways for the night and you found yourself alone with your husband, a deadly silence as you walked arm in arm to your rooms with guards behind you. The King motioned the guards to stop a good distance behind-

And you knew tonight wasn’t going to end well.

As soon as you entered the chamber and the King looked around, he started invading your space until you were cornered. 

“Did you have to sound like such a Utopian?”

You shut your eyes, not believing what you were hearing. “Don’t tell me you promised things to him without my knowledge.”

“And what if I did?” He challenged. “Your job is to convince back home that when the time comes, they will supply us with the funds for the army.”

“If you believe I have a say in that?” You scoffed. “You’re wrong-”

You weren’t sure if the sound of his palm meeting your cheek registered first or the pain but you staggered, almost landing on the floor. You shut your eyes in disbelief at how quickly your husband snapped and then you were further humbled when he knelt down and grabbed you by the jaw, glaring at you.

“If only you didn’t run that mouth of yours so much,” he spat. “I wouldn’t have to resort to this-”

“You would have anyway,” you challenged. “You’re a sorry excuse of a man.”

You watched the King’s mouth part in surprise- this was the first time you had verbally retaliated. He got up with a scoff, pacing the room for a few seconds while you gathered yourself, about to go to your room and maybe shut the door on his face-

“You know,” the King blocked your path, stepping in front of you. “I wonder why there’s this fire in your eyes. Have you been doing something behind my back?”

“Have you considered…” you took a deep breath, trying not to raise your voice, “for one moment that maybe, just maybe I am done being treated like a ragdoll?”

“A ragdoll?” The King laughed mockingly, poking his fingers against your sternum, pushing you in the process. “What did you say? Did you ever consider, Your Majesty,” he pushed again, making you stifle a groan. “That you have been misbehaving?”

“And what did I do?” You almost whispered. “I stated facts. Utopia won’t play along with your stupid plans. I saved you the trouble, Your Highness-”

This time, he pushed you properly, slamming you against the wall in the process. “Utopia will bend. I will make sure of it. But first, I have to make you bend to my will.”

You knew that nothing you said now would get through him. His eyes went blank as he pushed you to the ground and kicked at your legs, walking around the room while you clutched at your leg- he was always cruel enough to give you time to recover before he carried on. He picked some box from the mantel and threw it in your direction, the metal meeting the flesh on your arm and you were glad it was only the arm because it hurt like hell. And then you were being picked up and he assessed you once, slowly, before pushing you harshly, making you knock against the shelf and shatter a vase in the process, the shard of which buried in your forearm painfully-

And you stopped breathing when you spotted a shadow move in your room.

It was San, and he looked angry. 

And he was clutching a dagger in his fist.

You couldn’t feel the pain anymore- instead, fear overtook you- you made sure not to look at him again but you shook your head furiously, willing him, begging him to stay in the dark but somehow, you knew he couldn’t stand the sight of it and would interrupt-

So you did the only thing you could think of. You clutched a shard in your hand and when the King stood to strike you again, you met it with the shard which lodged in his fist.

“That is enough, Your Highness, please,” you begged. “Come to your senses-”

“You bitch,” he groaned, clutching at his wrist and it looked like the pain finally made him acknowledge the mess he had created. He stood conflicted, raising his hands to strike you again but then clutching his bleeding wrist.

“Please, go away and get it treated,” you begged. “Say that you fell or something, that it was dark, just please, go away,” you cried and the King shot you a warning look before cursing more under his breath and promising he would have a talk with you soon. Then he turned and left the chamber.

And you found yourself finally relaxing enough to sink to the floor and sob because you had almost ruined everything you had worked for. You had almost ruined your plan. You had risked San’s life in the process. You had made everything worse-

But you fought back this time. Maybe, just maybe… the King would come to his senses or at least this madness would stop.

You wiped your face, taking off your net gloves and letting out a short laugh when you saw they had ripped- your maids would be pissed. You tossed them away and slumped against the wall, the shards still around you.

And then you spotted the shadow move again- but he didn’t dare take one step towards you.

“It’s okay to come out now, you know.”

San sighed deeply- he wished he could disappear in the shadows. He didn’t realise how angry, absolutely furious he could be until this moment. He could have slit the King’s throat right there- not only because he was the King and you were the Queen, but… no woman deserved to be treated like that, to be shoved like she weighed nothing. He stood clenching his fists, wondering if he should have done it, if he could have protected you-

“I might start to think I’m hallucinating if you don’t step out now,” he heard you call and he looked up, watching you pick the shard out of your arm and whistling at the pain.

And that finally prompted him to move and step into the dim light of the main room. He went towards where you kept your medical kit and then he settled down next to you, not meeting your eyes but putting pressure on your wound with a handkerchief and then inspecting it a few moments later, relieved it only needed a bandage. You watched him expertly tie a bandage around your arm and then he rolled your sleeves up to inspect for more damage-

“Why won’t you look at me?” You whispered.

He sighed deeply, gulping as he gathered his courage and tried subduing his anger, but one look at your tear-stained face and messy hair and the absolutely vulnerable eyes, and something in him broke again.

“What kind of a man am I if I can’t protect you?”

“San-”

“I know why you stopped me. I know I promised not to interfere and I know I almost killed that bastard, but y/n,” his brows furrowed as he brought his hand to your face, cupping it and then almost losing it when you shut your eyes and leaned into his touch. “I failed you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you locked your gaze with his. “You saved me tonight. I have never fought back once, but tonight… you saved me, San.”

San wasn’t sure how many times you were going to break his heart and then piece it together tonight. And despite walking on eggshells around you for the past few days ever since he almost crossed the boundary with you, he decided he would heal himself tonight. 

He decided to finish what you couldn’t last time, and he leaned in to lock his lips with yours.

A million thoughts ran through his head- but being the King’s Right Hand and kissing his wife, the Queen, was the least of his worries right now. He didn’t care if he would get executed for this, but… what if you only thought of him as a servant? What if the last time had only been in the spur of the moment-

He broke apart when he felt his thumb getting wet from your tears and he truly wondered if he had made a mistake, but…

You were smiling. You leaned forward, on your knees, and met his lips again and this time, he kissed you properly, his lips moving with yours and his hands holding you carefully, aware that you must be in pain and hurting-

But that wasn’t enough for you. You broke apart again, a newfound strength in you. Your breath hitched as you took in his features now that you were so close to him. You held his face in your hands, crawling in his lap and towering over him, joining your foreheads.

“Don’t hold me like I’ll break,” you warned him. “I want you to kiss me harder. Kiss me like you mean it.”

And that was all the confirmation San needed- his grip on your waist tightened considerably and he kissed you like he was hungry for it. And he didn’t bother staying silent- he groaned into the kiss loud enough to drive you a little insane and you responded with equal enthusiasm, melting into the kiss with each passing second. You locked your arms around his neck and as soon as he swiped his tongue across your lips, you opened your mouth and granted him access, your kisses turning more passionate. Soon, he had you bending and placed you on the floor gently, hovering above you and breaking apart to look at you, a faint smile on his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this… Your Majesty,” he whispered, kissing your temple and trailing his lips down your cheek.

“We really shouldn’t,” you pouted, unbuttoning his coat so he could take it off and he tossed it to the side. “But do I really look like I care right now?”

He chuckled, going back to kissing your jaw, trailing his lips down on your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Not longer than me,” you assured, squirming under him when his lips tickled your sweet spot. “You were somehow always the only person I wanted to be touched by.”

San groaned at that, looking at you. “If you say things like that, y/n, god help me-”

You leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss, effectively shutting him up, your fingers working to unbutton his shirt as you messily kissed, one hand guiding your face along while the other traced your curves. You wanted nothing more than to be skin on skin and perhaps he felt that- perhaps, he knew how much you craved this, longed for this. His shirt fell open and you admired the plane of his toned chest and body, running your hands across it. San caressed your face lovingly, kissing your forehead and lingering there.

“Stop thinking whatever you are,” you muttered, leaning forward. “Just do something.”

San looked at you as if asking for confirmation- he couldn’t quite believe this was really happening. His gaze fell to the bandage on your arm and he locked your hands, kissing your wrist. He rolled the sleeve up, wincing at the red bruise from the box the King had thrown at you.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” you told him. It was the truth- it didn’t hurt right now. You couldn’t feel any sort of pain right now, actually, save for the ache in your heart. You could only feel desire coursing through every vein in your body. San trailed kisses up your arm, looking at you for permission as his hand snaked up your back and you gladly gave him access to slide your dress down and he took his sweet time, taking in every inch of your skin, every piece of yourself you had to offer to him. The dress pooled around your hips, leaving you in a black bralette. San kissed your lips enthusiastically before trailing kisses down again, this time aiming to kiss every bruise and faint mark on your body. 

You lay on your back, your hands running through his hair, your heart overwhelmed at how he still held and touched you like you could break. You wanted to tell him that you had already broken and he was healing you. You loved the feather kisses he dropped on your skin and you appreciated that he was taking his time with you. After he was done, he kissed you for a long time, simply moving his lips along yours. The exhaustion was starting to catch up now.

“Can we take this to bed?” You asked and he chuckled at that, nodding and helping you up but you almost stumbled due to the sudden blood rush. He caught you in his arms, helping you to your room. You took off your dress, now in your undergarments and he looked up. You smacked his arm before changing into your nightgown and then tapped his arm so he could relax and found him flustered.

“For someone who kissed like it was the last time, you sure are shy now,” you commented, going to the dresser and beginning to take all the clips out of your hair. San came to stand behind you, helping you and then playing with the curls in your hair. He caught you looking at him and he smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“For what?” You turned to him and he tucked your hair back. 

“For everything,” he sighed. “That is the last time that man touches you, okay? I won’t let it happen again. I swear on my life-”

“San-”

“No,” he shook his head, adamant. “I don’t care about anything- I won’t let him touch a hair on your body.”

You pursed your lips, feeling overwhelmed and he was quick to embrace you. You wrapped your arms around his back, letting him caress your hair and guide you both to the bed. Settling down, he drew the covers over the two of you after shrugging off his shirt.

“I’ll leave before the sun rises, is that okay?” He asked.

“I’d rather have you like this forever,” you buried your face in his chest, tangling your limbs together and his body shook as he laughed.

“Of course you would,” he tsk-ed. “Do you like me that much?”

“I do,” you weren’t going to lie. “What about it?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Well… the sentiments are returned.”

“Glad to hear,” you snuggled into him. “Kiss me to sleep.”

—--------------------------------

The night of the party had gone incredibly wrong- you physically injured the King. It had been three days and he hadn’t seen you since-

Which wasn’t too bad. You figured the King must have been ashamed for once because you finally fought back and made it clear that he had no control over you. You recalled over and over again what he had said that night-

“Utopia will bend. I will make sure of it. But first, I have to make you bend to my will.”

You had a solid plan in your head now- you were going to make sure the King’s plans would be exposed and go after the Prince of Wonderland first by contacting your spies. It was going to work. You didn’t know what you were going to do after that, but for now… you had to do something.

Because now, you had hope. You knew that having hope was dangerous especially at a time like this. You did not know how the future would play out from here, but you couldn’t help feeling like a silly little girl with hope as you drew the curtains away from the window and smiled at the bright sun.

And it didn’t help that San was making sure he treated you like the way you were meant to be. 

You weren’t afraid to lock the main door of your chamber anymore after night time. After what the King had done to you, you could use the excuse of being scared of him (you genuinely were) in case he ever came here without notice. The King wasn’t visiting your chamber anymore, instead sending maids to do what needed to be done.

Good riddance, you thought. He should be ashamed.

And then at night time when you sent the maids away, you would lock the doors and wait for San. And no matter how late it got, San always came. He would knock on the door in your room and you would be quick to open it. He would embrace you as soon as he saw you. Sometimes you would talk first, or sometimes, you would get right into it and kiss each other. With each passing day and the anxiety that came with carrying this plan that could very well end up with you both being tried in court for treason, you two found comfort in each other. Your wishes to not be apart for one moment during the night grew more intense.

You would sit in his arms on the bed or on the couch in the living room as you talked. You would tell each other how your day went and other casual stuff. It was just you and San without the titles. He would caress your hair as you talked. You would play with his fingers or trace patterns on his arms as he held you. One of you would give in first and kiss the other. Sometimes, it was soft and continued for hours- just kissing and chatting, laughing as you talked in hushed voices as if afraid they could be carried out by the air. 

But sometimes… It felt like San intended to break you apart. Sometimes his hands would consciously or unconsciously touch some bare skin on your legs as you cuddled which earned him a short gasp. Sometimes, he would let it go and wait for you, but sometimes, he would test the waters and trace his fingers up, up and up. Maybe you would slap his arm and giggle. More often than not, though, you would bare more skin for him. You wanted to be touched everywhere, and you had made it clear.

And he hadn’t disappointed.

You had a long day today and were just finishing responding to the last letter when you heard the familiar knocks on the escape door. You smiled to yourself, sealing the letter within an envelope and going into your room to open the door.

“You’re early tonight,” you said as a greeting and San kissed your forehead as he stepped inside.

“His Highness is in a sour mood today so he went out for drinks with the Earl,” he told you and you shrugged.

“Wonder what’s got him so sour lately,” you started towards the living room.

“Maybe the wound on his hand refuses to heal,” San chuckled. “You have no idea how hard it is to hold back a smirk everytime I see him wince in pain.”

“Satisfying, isn’t it?” You grinned and you both sat next to each other in the living room. “Did you receive a response yet?”

You were referring to the letter you had sent to who you expected was the only person in the Prince of Wonderland’s court with some sense of what was right and wrong. The only person who wasn’t power hungry- a past advisor of your father as well. 

“I did,” San took out a letter from the folds of his dark kimono and you opened it, reading the contents and smiling in satisfaction.

“I knew the court of the Prince didn’t align with his views, but I didn’t realise they would be this eager to do something about it,” you looked at San. “I always knew Lord Jeong hated his job as a court member in Wonderland. This is… interesting.”

San sighed in relief. “I’m surprised he agreed, actually. I know he’s wiser than the rest of the members who seem to have nothing up here,” San tapped his head, “but I didn’t think he would agree so easily. If he gets caught, he will be executed.”

“And so will we,” you looked at San pointedly. “Lord Jeong must have realised that we’re risking a lot too. Some people… they are inherently good, San. Like you. Like Lord Jeong. They always side with justice, and there’s nothing just about what Wonderland and Eden are planning to do with the annexations.”

San nodded slowly at that. “Sometimes, I wonder what went wrong with the King. I thought he was a very respectable leader. I don’t understand when and why his hunger to grab more and more began.”

He had talked about it once with you. You shifted towards him, caressing his arm. “Were you ever… on friendly terms?”

“Not really, he’s always kept a distance from the court members, and I wouldn’t call what we had ‘friendship’,” he said, “But he still shares almost everything he plans with me. Yes, I’m his Right Hand, but he almost expects me to play along. Maybe he is testing me and will find out I’m doing something behind his back. Maybe he won’t because nothing has changed between us, really. I’m trying to act normal when I’m with him but everytime I see him with a smug face as he and the other court members disrespect the women in court or their wives… I want to scratch that smugness off his face.”

You chuckled at that. “You’re just too good for this world, San. And honestly it’s a goddamned miracle that I found you.”

San looked surprised to hear that and you laughed again. “What?”

“You talk as if you weren’t going to expose, maybe even overthrow the King all by yourself,” San leaned forward to peck your lips. “I don’t think my presence has changed much.”

“You have no idea how much your presence has changed things,” you wished he could look at himself from your eyes. “I’m pretty sure I would have done something horrible to the King- or myself- if I didn’t know you had my back.” 

San pursed his lips in thought as he watched you shuffle closer so you could hide your face in the crook of his neck. You breathed in his scent, memorising it before you drew away to look at him.

“Will you stick with me after all of this? No matter where I end up? You don’t have to say yes-”

“Of course I will,” San cupped your face in his hands, his heart aching at the way you sounded so small while asking that question. “There’s no place I’d rather be than with you. I intend to follow you wherever you go… if I have your permission.”

You took his hands away from your face, making his heart sink in fear, only for you to curl your fingers around them as you leaned forward settling yourself in his lap, his hands pinned to the couch and your lips inches away from his. You scanned his face, feeling some strange satisfaction to see his eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

“Wherever I go?” You whispered, leaning in so your lips caressed his and then drawing away. “Don’t tell me you want me, Lord Choi.”

San scoffed- scoffed at that. “Didn’t I tell you? You’ll always be my queen.”

You recalled when San had told you that- the first time before he hugged you. You tightened your grip on his hands and locked your lips with his, his response eager. Your legs were on either side of him and you propped yourself a bit closer as you kissed him and he sighed when you rolled your hips on his lap experimentally.

“You do know what you’re doing, don’t you, Your Majesty?” San whispered as he broke apart, immediately trailing kisses down your neck- he had held on for too long. The nightgown you wore tonight didn’t cover much.

“Oh, this?” You rolled your hips again, feeling the telltale signs of a bulge even through layers of clothes. “I think I do, Lord Choi.”

“And you do know,” San sucked at your sweet spot, careful not to leave a mark on your neck and moving his lips elsewhere immediately. “You do know that I find it very hard to hold myself back when it comes to you, don’t you?”

“Who said I want you to hold back?” You drew your hands away, placing them on his shoulders now. “Maybe I don’t want you to hold back tonight.”

San stopped trailing kisses on your skin and looked up at you- oh, he wanted nothing more than to have you in every possible way, but you were the queen. He already thought he was crossing a lot of boundaries and sometimes found himself thinking if maybe you’d regret this someday-

“Do you want me, San?” You asked. “Please, be honest. Do you want me?”

“I thought you knew,” San’s brows furrowed in concentration as he scanned your face for any hints of hesitation. “I thought it was obvious how much I wanted you. But are you sure you won’t regret any of this-”

“I won’t,” you assured him, cupping his face. “I would be honoured to have you, Choi San.”

San laughed in shock and disbelief. “I should be the one saying that- you’re literally the queen of two kingdoms-”

“And who cares about that?” You interrupted, tucking his hair away from his face as you said, “I’m lucky to be here right now, with you. I feel like you deserve someone better, not a woman who’s already married and is a sorry excuse of a-”

“A contract marriage,” San’s grip on your waist tightened. “And even if everything else was okay, I’m lucky to be the man who makes you happy. And I’m sorry the King never did that for you.”

“I told you to stop apologising for the King,” you pouted. 

“Only when you stop thinking of yourself as unworthy,” San wasn’t having any of your excuses. “You’re worthy of love, and if I can make you happy… then I don’t need anything else. So I’ll ask again… do you want me? Despite everything? Despite what the future may hold?”

“I do,” you said, never so sure about anything until now. “I’ve wanted you for so, so long.”

San’s lip curved into a smirk at that. “Now… that’s new.”

“Really?” You rolled your hips for good measure again and this time, San’s hands started trailing down your legs. “I thought it was obvious.”

“I thought that was just how you were,” San leaned in to kiss your jaw. “I just didn’t think you only looked at me that way.”

“Pretty sure you never saw me looking at the King that way,” you muttered and he laughed, tracing patterns on your skin as he started baring your thighs. 

“Ah? And did you fantasise about being touched by me? Before everything?”

“Maybe I did,” you kissed his lips. “You’re kind of hot. It’s hard not to, especially when no one around you cares enough.”

“And do you fantasise about every other ‘hot’ person in your court?” San tsk-ed at that. “Did you have someone like this back home too?”

You laughed deeply at that, amused by the way San was leading the conversation, but you intended to make him sure by the end of the night that he was the only one for you. “Never. Never in my wildest dreams. And I’m not that dirty, Choi San. I didn’t fantasise about this- oh.”

Your words became lost when San trailed his hands up your thighs, spreading you more for him and then bringing his hands back down. He was teasing you. He always did before he touched you.

“So what exactly went on in your head when you saw me?” San had a shit-eating grin on his face and you were tempted to wipe it off with a kiss. 

“Oh, just how you seemed like a nice person,” you shrugged, grinning when he shook his head. “Come on, you know. If you hadn’t thought about me a little too, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I just thought you made a nice queen,” San shrugged just like you, tracing his hands back up. “Never did I think I would have the privilege to touch you.”

And then he traced a finger up your panties, finding them hot and wet, earning a gasp from you. “Already? I thought you-”

You didn’t let him finish as you smashed your lips against his and he immediately melted into the kiss, one hand trailing back to your waist while the other played around your thigh, more focused on making out with you. While your tongues battled for dominance, he took the chance and hooked his thumb in the waistband of your panties, bringing it down a bit. You weren’t even breaking apart for air, the kisses getting more passionate and when he finally slid one finger between the garment and over your wet folds, you gasped into the kiss.

“So wet for me,” he tsk-ed again. “Always so ready for me.”

“Shut up,” you told him, making him chuckle. You found it harder to keep yourself propped on his lap without sinking back and San seemed to understand, perhaps with the way your thighs trembled with every movement of his finger between your wet folds. He had done this once now, so he knew how submissive you were at times like this. He just liked the idea of making you wait until you were antsy enough before he finally slid his fingers inside you.

And right now… he needed to rile you up just a tad bit more. So foregoing any rationality, he muttered ‘you better be good at makeup’ before going right back to your neck and attacking it with kisses and nibbles and letting his fingers trace your clit, making you squirm within his grasp with the overload of sensations. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, working your hips along to his movements and when he finally dipped one finger inside of you, you sighed in relief, immediately riding his finger-

“Not so quick, Your Majesty,” he warned. You could swear his calling you with your title undid something in you- especially when in a position like this. You let him take control and he slid another finger inside you, his thumb on your clit drawing circles and relaxing you as he slowly paced his digits inside your walls. 

“That feel good?” He asked and you nodded, barely able to speak. You looked at him before sliding his kimono down his shoulders and then you ran your hands over his chest, gripping his shoulders before rolling your hips on his fingers.

“San, please,” you muttered against his lips, locking them with yours as if you could convince him to make you come with a kiss alone.

San broke apart, his eyes focused on your lips as his fingers changed their pace inside you and his thumb started rubbing your clit with more pressure. “Please what?”

“I’m so close,” you almost begged, your whines only fueling him. “You know what to do.”

He did. He pressed his thumb against your clit and curled his fingers inside you and you buried your face and your moans against his neck as you trembled all over, your hips bucking against his fingers.

But this time, San immediately pushed you back so you lay flat on the couch and instead of reaching for something to wipe you with, he looked at you.

“Can I clean you up, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, goodness, yes,” you sighed delightfully and he grinned, sliding your panties off you and immediately latching his lips to your core, the sensation alone making your back arch. San gripped your thighs though, effectively pinning you down and spreading you apart so he could have full access. And he wasn’t silent at all. The lewd sound of his tongue diving in and out of you, slurping in everything was driving you to yet another high. 

You ached to squeeze your thighs shut but his restraint was sure so you clenched at his hair, only making him go harder on you. His nose brushing against your already sensitive clit made you moan loudly into the pillow and you couldn’t even form two sentences to beg him to do something, anything. One look at his glistening lips and nose as he glanced at you and you were already almost there. All it took was him licking up a stripe and then sucking at your clit and you were shaking uncontrollably again as another wave of orgasm hit you, the most intense thing you had ever experienced. 

San eagerly helped you through it and when he wiped his face with his sleeves, you felt a fresh wave of arousal as he looked at you, his kimono hanging by his hips, his eyes hungry. And you may have asked him to let you please him too but he was already leaning in to kiss you and this time, he drove his tongue inside you on purpose, making you taste yourself on him.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathed against your lips. 

“Shall we take this to bed?” You whispered and he nodded, about to get up but you pulled his hand. 

“Please take that thing off first,” you laughed, pointing at his clothes.

“Oh? What do you intend to do to me?” He smirked.

“I told you that I want you,” you said and his eyes darkened. He licked his lips in contemplation before he picked you up and you realised then how spent you were, yet so eager to have him where you wanted him the most.

He lay you down on the bed and took off his clothes, now in his sole piece of undergarment, leaving nothing to imagination. You stared shamelessly while catching your breath and he scoffed. “Can I take that off too?” 

“Oh?” You looked down at your nightgown. “By all means.”

You watched San draw closer to you, the glow of the candles by your bedside casting beautiful shadows on his face. He started unbuttoning your gown and you helped him to take it off. And just like always, San sucked in a breath at the sight of you as if this was his first time seeing you bare yourself to him- this time was different. You had never been this bare in front of him. He traced his hands along your curves, taking his time as he peppered kisses at random spots. All the while, your hands remained in his hair, caressing his head softly and you beckoned him to come closer so you could kiss him. 

As you moved your lips against his softly, his hand came to rest on your waist, the other guiding you along. You started shifting so he lay on his side and he brought you closer, making you rest one leg on top of him and you didn’t know if it was intentional but when your core met his bulge, now separated by only a single layer, you moaned into the kiss as you deepened it.

You let your hand travel down, making him grin into the kiss. You traced his toned muscles until you reached his abdomen. As he kissed you with more intensity, you palmed his length, finding him rock hard. You broke apart and looked at him for permission and when he subtly nodded, you looked down between your bodies and began to slide your hand under his clothes-

“Wait,” he breathed, taking off his underwear in a single motion, his hard length springing up in full glory, swollen and leaking. You licked your lips at the sight, watching him prop himself against the bed and bringing you on top of him, wedging his length between your folds so you could rock against him as he captured your lips once again. This time, you opened your mouth and his tongue dove right in, exploring your mouth while he rocked you against his length. You gasped when the head of his cock rubbed against your entrance and you simply couldn’t take it any longer.

“San,” you breathed, drawing his hair away from his flushed face. “Please.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” He asked, wanting nothing more than to drive his cock inside you and wreck you.

“I… I’ve been taking contraceptives in case the King tried anything,” you admitted. His features contorted in anger and you shushed him, peppering kisses all over his face. “I want you to be the first.”

“The first?” He asked and you nodded again. He suspected it but now that he had a confirmation... “I shouldn’t-”

“You can, if you want to,” you told him, kissing his lips. “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. Only if you want to.”

“I want to, I want to so bad,” he shifted your positions, making you lay down on your back and it was like he suddenly found a new purpose. His demeanour changed and he started trailing kisses all over your body. “Just relax then. Tonight is all about you.”

You obeyed though you were pretty sure you sounded impatient. San fondled with your breasts, peppering kisses along them and then down to your stomach. He looked at you again, trying to spot any signs of hesitance but you looked so sure that he couldn’t help it. 

“Are you ready?” He asked and you nodded, bracing yourself when he rubbed his cock against your folds. He laughed a little at that, kissing your temple and whispering, “Relax and breathe.” Then he started sinking his cock inside you and you felt a little sting as he entered, slowly but surely. All the while, he cooed praises into your ears, caressing your waist and asking if you felt okay. He wasn’t sure how long he would last because you felt so tight against him, but he would hold on for you.

“How does it feel?”

“Full,” you laughed, finally relaxing when you felt him bottom out. He grinned at that. “I think you can move now.”

“You think?” He teased. “For someone who’s never done this before, you sure acted like a pro.”

“I may have read some fiction to entertain myself in this boring dungeon…” you admitted and he laughed. He rolled his hips experimentally and you sucked in a breath at the sensation, wondering how it could feel so good. Slowly, he set a pace comfortable enough for both of you while he kissed your sweet spot, sucking a mark into it.

“You might want to hide that in the morning,” he kissed the spot.

“Well, I’ve been hiding marks for far too long now,” you scoffed. “But how would you hide them if I gave you one?”

“I wouldn’t hide it,” San mumbled against your lips, pecking them. “I’d show it off proudly.”

You smacked his arm and he grinned, his gaze going hard as he slammed his cock inside you once, earning a loud moan. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Again. Harder.”

And just like that, something in San broke. He quickened his pace, making sure to hit that one spot every time he drove his cock inside you after almost sliding out. The sounds of your pants and your bodies slamming against each other filled the air now that your highs were approaching. The kisses got messier, and when his hand rested on your neck, your walls clenched, making him groan loudly. He held your face in one hand, pulling one leg up so he was unbelievably close to you as he slammed his cock inside again.

You could only call his name in warning as your walls clenched and you trembled like nothing before, the orgasm rushing through you and making you limbless, barely able to breathe. The sensation of your walls clenching and unclenching did it for him too, but just as he was about to slide out of you, you wrapped your legs around him and pushed him back inside, making him drop his body on yours as his own orgasm washed over him and you couldn’t have asked for anything more- the feeling of his warm cum coating your walls was enough to send you into heaven. He laughed in disbelief, burying his face in the crook of your neck, letting you rock your bodies together until you were satisfied. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he kissed your temple, loving the feeling of your bodies wrapped around each other. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You only smiled, pushing your intertwined limbs so you were half on top of him. “I’m gonna sleep just like this tonight.”

“I’ll bust a nut in a few minutes if you keep me like this,” San muttered and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind a second round.”

“Shh,” San smacked your arm playfully. “Let me clean you up. You don’t want the maids to find you in this state.”

“True,” you pouted. “But they will probably be able to smell the love in the air.”

“Try not to make it obvious,” he laughed and you decided to stay like that just a little longer.

 —---------------------------

The King finally came to your chamber after a week. You weren’t sure if he wanted to, more like he had to because it looked like he finally needed you again.

He apologised whenever he needed something from you, it had always been like this. You were just waiting for him to stop making small talk and get to the point.

He walked with his hands crossed behind his back, examining the living room, the maids long gone giving you two some privacy. You thought he looked funny walking like that- as if he was coming here for the first time. You put two sugars in his cup of tea as he preferred and when you started to stir it, he finally sat down in front of you.

“I went to town a couple of days ago and came across Lord Han. He inquired about your health.”

“And did he look okay?” You sipped your tea. “I remember he complained a lot about his joints the last time we met.”

“He seemed fine,” your husband responded, shrugging.

“And what about you? Your hand… is it okay?” You finally asked now that the small bandage was in your sight.

“Yeah, it was only a small cut, nothing much,” he coughed awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry for that night. I shouldn’t have gone so far.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you nodded. “You shouldn’t have begun. You know I don’t have much influence in Utopia. I only told the Prince the truth. You must have promised him Utopia’s support, isn’t that the case?”

When he didn’t respond, only clenching his jaw as if holding back a remark, you said softly, “If you had told me about the deal earlier, I would have tried to pull some strings. Now you’re halfway there and want to add Utopia in this deal because Eden and Wonderland are lacking funds. It’s clear as day that you’re only using them- and I’m not saying this as a Utopian. You’re smart- you clearly realise that too.”

“Well… can you do something now? I really don’t want to cancel this deal,” he sighed. 

“Do you ever wonder if you’re biting off more than you can chew? Not with Utopia… with Wonderland and all these plans about annexing islands that your family helped gain independence?” 

“They didn’t know any better,” the King wasn’t buying it. “When my grandfather made it happen, he didn’t realise that we were giving away the resources that once helped our kingdom become steady and stand on its feet.”

“But… despite how you have been with me as a husband,” you said and he raised a brow, “I still believe you’re a good ruler. You’ve always been fair, and this deal is anything but fair. I don’t know what else the Prince of Wonderland has promised you, but will you at least reconsider? Do you not care for the destruction that will ensue from this deal?”

For a second, for a good second, you thought his eyes softened and he actually reconsidered. And for that second, you were ready to redact your plan to destroy him. You would have forgiven him and asked for a divorce, plain and simple. But when his gaze hardened, you felt your heart shatter- he was beyond help.

And his words only proved it.

“Who’s backing you? Huh? Trying a new tactic to make me give in? Or have you already corresponded back home and plan to side against us?”

You shut your eyes as you exhaled deeply. “You know what? Fine. I’ll write a letter in front of you. In fact, you can write it yourself and send it to Utopia. No one is backing me. And I hope you find yourself in a situation where no one backs you either, and you get a taste of what that feels like,” you got up after nearly slamming the cup on the table. “Your parents, your grandparents… everything they worked for, you’ll be undoing it. They’ll be ashamed of you.”

Before the King could retort in any way, physical or verbal, you decided to leave the chamber itself- staying in here wouldn’t help you in any way. He would either spend the rest of the evening cursing you or trying to get you to bend and you couldn’t have that. You raised a hand in dismissal when a guard tried following you- a clear sign to be left alone. 

You descended the stairs, the maids and servants bowing when you crossed their path. You had never explored too much of the castle and you only knew the way to the halls and the kitchens. You walked without a direction in your head, wanting to get lost-

And a sharp turn later, you almost bumped into a figure, gentle hands bracing your figure, a touch that you recognised immediately-

“San,” you breathed and he scanned you in surprise. 

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

“I was just… taking a walk,” you looked back, nobody in sight. “Where are you headed?”

“I had an errand to run,” he waved the documents in his hands. “But what is the Queen really doing here?”

You sighed. “He was in my room and we had an argument. I stormed off.”

San looked around once before kissing your forehead. “Do you want some fresh air? Shall I accompany you to the gardens?”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s best that we’re not seen together. I’ll go to the gardens myself, and… will I see you tonight?”

“If the King goes to his room, yes,” he promised, squeezing your shoulder in assurance. “Let me drop you off at least.”

You shrugged, following him as he briefed you about the latest court meeting the King attended. You found your maid in a corner with a few others and when she spotted you, she bowed before running to you.

“Good thing that I found you,” you smiled at her. “I got lost. Lord Choi was kind enough to guide me to the gardens.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been here for three years and I still get lost,” she admitted and San stifled a smile. “Shall I take you from here?”

“Yes, Lord Choi must be busy, let’s not bother the poor man,” you subtly winked at him and he bowed before leaving, his eyes holding promise of what he would do with you if he saw you at night. The excitement of that alone was enough to relax you and you followed your maid, listening to her as she talked about the new crocheting skill she learned from an elder.

When night time approached and San came to your room, you went straight to work. You were still locking the door of the chamber and it looked like the King hadn’t found out yet anyway. He never bothered coming anymore- and that was good. You didn’t want him either.

You first talked about the plan with San, going to your office and reading through the latest correspondence from Wonderland- the Prince had already deposited a large sum to the King. The King was still holding back on the blueprints of the weapons though, perhaps hoping to secure Utopia’s alliance first. At least he was smart enough to do that, you thought. Then San gave you another letter from Lord Jeong in Wonderland and you read it out loud.

“There’s a third party involved that your king does not know of yet- their oldest enemy. They have been offered what you offered to our nation but there has been no talk about what they will offer us in return. Foul play? Sounds like something your king should know,” you looked at San. “A third party?”

“Wonderland’s oldest enemy would be Halaland,” San thought for a moment. “So Lord Jeong is saying that Wonderland is offering to share the weapons blueprints that we’re providing them with. And whatever Halaland has promised Wonderland in return is a secret?”

“Foul play,” you recalled. “Maybe the army Wonderland is providing us with will ultimately take over Eden. Maybe Wonderland and Halaland will get to share what’s left of this kingdom by the time they’re done.”

San shook his head in disappointment. “The King… he does not realise what he’s gotten himself into. The Prince of Wonderland is really something to have brainwashed him this much.”

“You know,” you placed the letter on the table. “When the King came here in the afternoon, I gave him one final chance. I was willing to end this with a silent divorce if he was willing to reconsider his deal with Wonderland,” you sighed deeply. “He ended up wondering if I was being ‘backed’ by someone and was siding against him.”

“He doesn’t even deserve that chance,” San shook his head. “That could have ended badly, y/n.”

“I know,” you pursed your lips. “I’m not even disappointed anymore, I’m just… sad. It’s a shame that it had to end this way.”

“It really is,” San nodded. “But I can’t think of any other way we can save Eden. We can’t let him carry out this plan and destroy Eden just so he can feel accomplished. And maybe it’s the people around him that misguided him too- all those earls and dukes he hangs out with,” San tsk-ed. “He keeps asking my opinion on things. I think he wants to see if I really agree with him or if I’m just playing along.”

“So when we do this… we’ll have to testify against him in court. Provide evidence. I trust you’ve been taking care of that part?”

“I’m the keeper of all those documents,” San nodded. “Unless the King catches on to our plan, which is unlikely, I think we’re good. What about you?”

“I decided to go through the King’s office last night,” you told him, getting up and urging him to follow you. You opened the door to his office and turned on the lamp, steering towards the King’s table. “I found a hidden compartment in here,” you patted underneath the desk. “I thought you might be skilled enough to open it.”

San knelt down to inspect the lock. “It requires a key. I bet the King keeps it on him.”

“Well, do you know how to pick locks?” You asked and he said he could try. He looked around for some tool before his gaze fixated on your pinned hair and he grinned, pulling it out of your hair and bending down. You waited anxiously but when San shook his head, you pouted.

“It’s a good lock,” he said. “Might steal the key some day.”

“Don’t bother, I have plenty of other evidence,” you told him. “I was just curious what else he kept here.”

San nodded, tucking the chunk of hair that had escaped your tied hair and pinning it back, a faint smile on his lips as he trailed his fingers along the side of your face and rested it under your chin. “So… shall we start searching for allies in the court?”

“I think so,” you said, watching his eyes turn soft as they fell on your lips. “I could start with the people who sided with Utopia two decades ago.”

“Sounds like a plan,” San’s voice was low and he swiped a thumb across your lower lip. “The door is locked, yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathed, and San was immediately crashing his lips on yours, his arms keeping you tucked to his body and you responded with the same eagerness, fisting his shirt. His tongue prodded between your lips and you opened your mouth, kissing him back passionately while his tongue explored your mouth. You kissed for a while before you drew back for breath, laughing.

“What’s with the sudden change of mood?”

San smirked dangerously, picking you up and you squealed, instinctively wrapping your legs around him. He placed you on the King’s desk, hands on either side of you as he locked eyes with you, now matching your height.

“I’ve been planning to make a mess of his office,” San admitted, leaning in and you heard the sounds of the objects falling from the desk when he swiped his hand across to make space. “And now seems like a perfect time.”

Your mouth parted in surprise as a wave of arousal washed over you- taking you in the King’s office? “You’re insane.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t fantasised about this,” San started trailing kisses along your neck. “Because I want to make love to you everywhere. I want to fuck you on the King’s desk, the King’s bed, his furniture, the walls of his chamber. And I want to paint your walls with my cum. Show him that this is what he gets for whatever he did to you. And I want to hear you scream my name. God, I wish he could hear that.”

You were pretty sure you almost came from his words alone. “San,” you pleaded, drawing him closer with uneven breaths. San kissed you deeply, joining his forehead with yours.

“I’m sometimes mad at him for treating you like this, but…” San scoffed. “I know it’s what brought us together. I can’t thank him for what he did, but god, I’m so glad that you are mine. I wish he loved you but I’m glad he didn’t, because now I can show you what it’s like to be loved. I love you.”

“I understand,” you told him, almost crying. You really did. “If I hadn’t married him… I wouldn’t have found you.” You pecked his lips. “And whatever happened, it’s sad but… I’m glad you came. I’m glad I found you, and I love you more than you can imagine.”

San kissed you again, this time sensually, just revelling in the feeling of how well your lips fit as if made for each other while his fingers untied your gown, making it slip away to your shoulders. While he kissed you, he ran his hands across your chest, fondling your breast and then he broke apart only to latch his mouth on one of your breasts while he caressed the other, eliciting a deep moan out of you. His lips travelled further down, trailing kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties.

“Won’t you be a good girl and take them off for me?” He whispered against your core and you fought the urge to ride his face. You instead pushed him back with a pout, making him chuckle deeply. You shimmied your panties off, the cold air of the room making you clench your thighs together but San tsk-ed, pushing your legs apart to make room for him.

“So pretty,” he licked his lips at the sight of your soaking core, kissing your lips once before going straight for your clit and kissing it, making you groan. Then he swiped his tongue along your folds, lapping at your arousal hungrily and simultaneously inserting a finger inside you. All of the sensations were enough to make you squirm wildly, unable to do anything except clench the sides of the desk while your back arched at the feeling of his mouth on your core and his finger inside you. He prodded another finger inside, smirking at the face you made- bliss.

“So needy for me, aren’t you?” He scissored inside, preparing you for what was about to come. “What would the King think if he found his queen being fucked by his most loyal servant?”

“Not… not his queen,” you managed to say. “Only yours. Only your queen.”

San seemed to like that answer and he placed his free hand behind your neck to bring you to his lips, kissing you passionately and swallowing your moans as you finally got the chance to clench your thighs, rolling your hips while he pressed his thumb to your clit. Just when your walls clenched as an indication that you were about to come, San drew apart and pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and you shook your head at the sight. His gaze darkened and he cupped your chin, opening your mouth and inserting those very fingers in there, making you suck at them. 

“Like how you taste on me?” He asked, groaning at the sight of your glazed eyes. “You sure know how to use your mouth, Princess.”

“I want you,” you told him as you unbuttoned his shirt, going for his pants but he shook his head.

“Not now,” he took them off himself. “I want to fuck you raw right here, right now.”

You scoffed and spread your thighs for him and he swiped his hard length along your folds, lubricating them before entering slowly, stretching you out. Once he was fully inside you, he thrusted inside once, swallowing your loud moan with a kiss. Soon, he set at a steady pace, making you more and more desperate with each thrust.

“San, I’m so close,” you told him. 

“So am I,” he groaned, his grip on your hips harsh enough to leave marks. You were balancing yourself with your arms around his neck and it looked like he had an idea- he unwrapped your arms and made you lay down on the desk and when you put your legs on his shoulders, he grinned in satisfaction.

“Feel that?” He thrusted inside you with all his might and you put a hand over your mouth to stifle the unholy sound of pleasure that would have left you. “So fucking tight, and so fucking full.”

You couldn’t even respond- you were seeing stars, and you had never felt this pleasured, this wanted before. San pressed kisses on your leg as he continued thrusting inside you, your moans mixing with each other, his hands on your waist keeping you close to him. 

“Come for me, my queen,” he groaned and your walls fluttered around him. “Come for me.”

This time, you didn’t hold back your moans as your walls clenched and you squirmed under him and he came right with you, the feeling of his warm cum heightening your orgasm. You whimpered almost pathetically as he continued thrusting, fucking his cum inside you before sliding out, watching your pussy leaking on the King’s desk.

“What a sight,” he caressed your legs, drawing them down so he could lean forward and kiss you gently. “I could do this forever, y/n, fuck,” he breathed against your lips. “I love you so much.”

“Me too,” you said, barely able to breathe. “I love you.” You pecked his cheek before resting your head back on the desk, trying to calm down. “San, you’ll… you’ll stay with me, right? After all of this? Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

“Slow down, love,” San chuckled, grabbing some tissues and cleaning you up, tossing them in the bin and deciding to take you to bed first, muttering that cleaning could wait. He laid you down and settled next to you, drawing the covers over you both and you scooted closer, resting your head on his arm.

“I should ask you- what do you want to do after this is over? WIll you go back to your home?”

You bit your lips- you would have wanted to go home but things had changed now. Perhaps, San could hear your answer in your silence. He kissed your forehead. “You can tell me, y/n. I’ll go with you wherever you want.”

“That’s not fair,” you pouted. “You must have something you want to do if you’re not the King’s Right Hand anymore. You must have thought about how you wanted to settle down.”

“But things are different now, aren’t they?” He said, his voice almost a whisper. “Now, I’ll follow you to the edge of the earth.”

You laughed in disbelief at that, overwhelmed by his confession. “Let’s chase each other then. Wherever we go.”

—------------------------------

The next few days passed by in a blur- it was mostly you planning and corresponding with your ‘friends’ around the continent- Utopia’s spies might be a better term for some of them. You received confirmation that there was indeed a deal going around between Wonderland and Halaland and since Halaland was a well-established nation, you couldn’t think of anything else it would want except to expand its kingdom. 

You and San barely had time to do anything other than exchange information and let your next moves play out. Your goal was to earn the favour of the King’s court before Lord Jeong in Wonderland would land the killing blow on the Prince. The Prince’s plans were soon going to become public and when the King would be wondering if they were just rumours or if they held any truth to them, that was when you were going to submit evidence against the King in the court. You were just waiting for Lord Jeong to arrive here with the physical evidence of weapons dealings between Wonderland and Halaland.

Though there was a lot going on, the King started making visits to your chamber more often. It was probably because he wanted to earn your favour and get Utopia to fund Eden. You wanted to tell him that getting Utopia’s funds would end with Eden’s downfall but he was entertaining none of your doubts, so you let him be. You let him yell at you whenever he wanted, you let him chat with you when he felt like it. You even let him caress your cheek and peck your lips, though it disgusted you now. The King knew that you wouldn’t give in so he was resorting to being physically affectionate with you. To make you think that he wasn’t the same man who would lose his mind and hurt you. 

And maybe, if it weren’t for San showing you what it felt like to be loved, you would have caved in. If you hadn’t experienced love in its best form, you would have been starved for affection and thought that the King was really changing for good- but not now. Your thoughts had never been clearer.

Between all of this, you couldn’t stop worrying about the future. If your plan succeeded and the King divorced you… where would you go? Back to Utopia only to get wed to another man? You loved your home, yes, but it was cruel. Your parents wouldn’t let you stay unmarried for the rest of your life- you could already imagine how appalled they would be when you get divorced. Their scrutinising gazes… you could already feel them on your back.

As for Eden… you worried about its future. The court of the King was thirsty for power, and you sometimes worried if the people who knew of the deal with Wonderland supported him for the purpose of his eventual downfall so they could seat themselves on his throne. You decided to start looking into the King’s bloodline- he must have some relatives around. You were Utopian and you could not rule this kingdom.

With all of these thoughts plaguing your mind, when the knock sounded and your maids announced the arrival of Lord Kang, you straightened and welcomed him inside. After a bow, he settled in front of you.

“How has your family been?” You asked as a greeting. “I haven’t seen your sister in a while.”

“I told her to stay away from royal affairs,” he chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. “I think she enjoyed your anniversary party a bit too much- my apologies if she said or did something-”

“Not at all,” you laughed. “She makes quite pleasant company, you can tell her that.”

Lord Kang smiled and you offered him tea. After a sip, he finally asked. “Why did you request my presence today, Your Majesty?”

“Well, I wanted to discuss a few things with you,” you began. “I understand that you’re close with the King- you’re one of his trusted advisors.”

“That I am.”

“Then you must know about the deal we have going on with Wonderland,” you said and he nodded, curious to hear where this was going. “What do you think about the deal?”

“You want my opinion?” He asked and you nodded. He cleared his throat. “I think it’s a good deal but we lack funds-”

“Lord Kang,” you interrupted and he looked cautiously at you. “I was also a royal advisor until a year ago when I got married. You and I both know this deal isn’t as good as the King thinks it is, don’t we?”

When Lord Kang didn’t respond, you decided to give him another moment while you sipped your tea. “From what I’ve seen in the court, your decisions are always in the favour of Eden as a kingdom, not Eden as the King’s playground. Sometimes you offer opposing arguments to the King, which is why he trusts you- you make him see things from a different perspective. I want your perspective on this deal- not the King’s advisor, but simply Lord Kang.”

A faint smile crawled on his lips and he shook his head. “You want me to be honest with you?”

“Absolutely,” you glanced at him. “I hope that is not a problem.”

“I’d rather know what you think about the deal first, Your Majesty,” he relaxed back, folding his arms. “My answer could change depending on your answer.”

You scoffed but you could understand- he probably thought this was the King testing him out or something. Of course he didn’t know just what sort of a relationship you and the King had- and why would the Queen ever want the advice of her husband’s trusted man on this matter without the King’s knowledge? The King was out in town today so you had carefully chosen the time too.

“Are you aware of the deal between Wonderland and Halaland?”

“Wonderland and Halaland?” He frowned. “I am not aware.”

“Well, they do have something going on. And one might think- with the deal with Eden, why would Wonderland want to be involved with Halaland? It’s not a secret that Eden and Halaland hate each other.”

Lord Kang fell silent for a few minutes but then he sighed. “I’m not sure what we have going on with Wonderland is good either. We’re known for our armoury but to give that to Wonderland? Alright, if we get something good enough in return- but the annexation of the few islands that just gained independence from us not so long ago? Eden will be called a traitor nation, and this is not what the King’s parents and grandparents worked for.”

“My point exactly,” you nodded. “If it was, I don’t know, better trade? Opening a route? I would have agreed to the deal with all my heart. If it benefitted Eden, I would have no problem with it, but I’m not sure the current deal benefits Eden. And the King is demanding funds from Utopia, but Utopia won’t give in- Utopia and Wonderland have a history, as you know.”

“I’m aware.”

“The King thinks I can influence Utopia, but I cannot. I am the youngest of four which means even as the Queen of Eden, my position won’t influence my family.”

“You must be in a spot then,” Lord Kang cocked his head, trying to figure you out. “The King can only ask you for funds.”

“I am, and the King may be my husband, but if this deal goes on, what do you think Wonderland will do with the funds we give them? Help Eden annex the islands, and then?”

“Demand a share,” Lord Kang said and you nodded. “And Halaland…?”

“Wonderland is providing Eden with an army and demanding Utopia help them fund that army. What could Halaland want from Wonderland, Lord Kang? What is the one thing Halaland is lacking at?”

“A good armoury,” Lord Kang started connecting the dots. “You’re saying Wonderland will give our weapons blueprints to Halaland? For what?”

“For what?” You retorted. “You tell me, Lord Kang.”

Realisation dawned on his face and he frowned. “Your Majesty… are you sure? Where did you hear that?”

“I have some evidence, and some more arrives soon, but I hope this is enough,” you passed the register that had been lying on the table to Lord Kang for him to inspect it. While he scrolled through the entries and made sure the stamp on it seemed real, you finished your tea, feeling satisfied. 

“Halaland is funding Wonderland. And it can only be for one reason- the army they will insert inside Eden will not only annex the islands, but make Eden submit to the two. Eden will be no more. The King refuses to see it,” you told him. “And the annexation of the islands alone is enough to get him tried in the court, isn’t that right? It violates a bunch of international laws. And if you knew about this annexation, Lord Kang, just why were you playing along with the King?”

Lord Kang sighed deeply. “The King… he only let me and Lord Jung know a few days ago, and he ordered us to carry on with his plans. There is obviously a hanging threat on our heads that he hasn’t said out loud yet, but we know that we have to tread cautiously. We don’t know who’s the enemy or who is the ally anymore. We’re confused, if you can’t tell already,” he sighed in defeat and you pursed your lips.

“Look, I have no ulterior motive today. I have tried every possible method to get the King to listen to me and see that this deal will get not only him but his kingdom destroyed, but he has also tried every possible means to make me bend to his will, and I’m not sure I can win without your support. The only thing I will get from this is a divorce, which I’ve wanted for quite some time now.”

Lord Kang frowned in confusion. “To make you bend to his will?”

You hadn’t planned this, but you figured someone should know. You rolled your sleeves a bit to show him the ugly blue bruise and scratch the King had left on you not too long ago. Lord Kang paled at the sight.

“I know your sister is quite a fan of the King,” you chuckled, “but men… men can be scary. Power is not meant for every man. Not a lot of them can handle it, and when they can’t… they resort to such means.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you told him. “Just know that I would have demanded a divorce anyway. This deal is providing me the opportunity to save Eden- and I don’t hate Eden- the people of Eden have always been nice to me. I hate the King. Believe me, I tried to make him see sense. But my job now is done, and I will be submitting all this evidence against the King and the Prince of Wonderland in the court. Would you like to be my ally in all of this, or would you rather see your kingdom fall?”

“I think you already know the answer,” he rubbed his face. “What should I do?”

You smiled at him. “I need more allies- only people you trust. Lord Choi… he is our ally too. Please work with him and get anyone who is good at heart at your side. The rest will be tried in the court along with the King. And the Prince of Wonderland… his days are numbered. You should know that. You have a week, and you all can try convincing the King if you can. In fact, it would be better if the King redacts from the plan, but please don’t let him get a wisp of the fact that I’m involved in all of this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Lord Kang put a hand on his heart. “I understand. And I admire your devotion to the kingdom that has failed you-”

“The kingdom didn’t fail me,” you smiled sadly. “Its ruler did. One week to decide his fate, Lord Kang. Save him if you can- it’s the last act of mercy I will allow him before I get what is owed to me.”

—-------------------------

You never thought this day would come- the bright lights in the Great Hall were making your head throb. The noise around you from the audience was deafening and the pounding of the gavel was synchronising with your heartbeat as you stared at the man who had ruined your life.

The King of Eden, now in the court facing you. 

He wasn’t surprised anymore. The surprise had worn off a few days ago when he learnt about the evidence you had submitted against him in the royal court, when he tried confronting you- but you now had the protection of his own court, which was a slap on his face. He had taken one look around the room and found most of his trusted advisors and his Right Hand around you. And he had lost it.

He had absolutely lost it, and his advisors finally saw him as the man he was and not the King. They watched him yell at you and pick up a vase to throw at you, which was when a few of them restrained him and accompanied him to his chambers with the guards while Lord Kang sighed in disappointment, sharing a look with San and agreeing that it was no longer safe for you to stay in the castle- the accusations the King had spewed accompanied with the threats were enough to cause worry. So Lord Kang arranged a place for you- he was kind enough to offer you a room in his own house, and his sister was elated to be near you anyway, though quite disappointed about how things had turned out. 

“The Queen may now speak. Silence must be observed while the situation is explained.”

You nodded at the judge. It was the final day of the court hearing and only your statement remained. The court members who had allied with you had given their statements- that included the King’s Right Hand San as well. Perhaps, his ‘betrayal’ hurt the King more than yours. After all… he was once his friend.

You recalled the events of last night. Though San and you had agreed not to meet up unless absolutely necessary, San had found you in Lord Kang’s gardens after his session in the court. You took one look at his face and knew that he was hurting, so you called him in your room there, finally sharing some privacy-

And San hugged you immediately, melting in your arms, almost losing balance. Your heart clenched and you sank down with him, letting him sort his thoughts out in your arms while you caressed his hair. When he finally drew apart, you caressed his face.

“I know how hard it was for you,” you told him. “And I’m sorry I put you through this.”

“No,” San shook his head. “It’s for the better. I did it for him too- for our kingdom. Maybe one day… he’ll return a better man and a better ruler.”

“Maybe,” you smiled, pecking his lips. “I’m so proud of you.”

San chuckled at that, shaking his head and muttering something about how the roles shifted. 

You could understand exactly how he must have felt now that you were facing the King. 

“Your honour… I’m not sure if it’s exactly the King’s fault for believing that the Prince of Wonderland could be trusted. But you are aware from all the hearings of our court during the past couple of weeks that the only crime the King has committed is almost selling off our kingdom unknowingly, with the greed of wanting to annex our bordering islands. Sharing top secret information about the weapons without the consent of the Minister of Defence- yes, the King has the final say but the Minister of Defence’s consent is necessary to avoid situations like the one that has now unfolded. And the fact that those blueprints would have ultimately been in Halaland’s hands?”

The room echoed agreements and the King looked down. You continued. “The King was not aware of the deal between Wonderland and Halaland. I can vouch for that. However… the King is responsible for violating the international code of weapons and armoury and the code of unlawful and illegal annexation. Since the damage is still minimal, I hope his sentence can be accordingly. However…”

The judge looked at you expectantly and you waited for the King to lock his gaze with yours, looking partly sorry and partly grateful that you weren’t exaggerating anything, you took a deep breath.

“Since everyone is present here, I would officially like to announce my demand for a divorce and stepping down as the Queen of Eden. I hope the matter of my divorce can be cleared before the King steps down from his position as well.”

The King sighed deeply at that, about to say something but then he stopped. Perhaps, he finally realised that nothing he said now could make it up to you. He had tried everything- he had also tried influencing the court but since you had witnesses now- San, Lord Kang and the maid who used to play chess with you- the judge had warned the King in the previous session to stop trying to threaten or bribe the court. The King had lost.

“I understand,” the judge pounded the gavel again and announced a break while they made the final decisions. You looked at the King- as your husband- for perhaps the last time.

You had demanded a divorce the day he burst into your chamber with the whole court present. The documents only needed his signature but he refused to comply out of spite, so you decided a public announcement would humble him- these judges were also handling the procedure of your divorce with this case because they had learnt how everything was connected- and how Utopia was meant to be a tool that Eden would provide with its own hands to the nations that would end her.

It did. You could see he looked weary now. Lord Kang and Lord Jeong stepped in and helped you out of the room to another hall nearby while you waited for the judges’ decision. Meanwhile, San, who was still the King’s Right Hand, was probably consoling the King. Or giving him a piece of his mind. You hoped it was both.

“How are you holding up?” Lord Kang asked, signalling the maids to get you something to drink.

You took a shaky breath. “Not the best. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Lord Jeong… you’re good, right? You still have a day in case you’re getting cold feet.”

Lord Jeong scoffed, shaking his head. “I still think it’s too much- just because I’m related to the King very distantly does not mean I’m fit for the throne.”

“Exactly,” Lord Kang quipped in. “But that’s not the reason we recommended you as the new king of Eden, though it was part of it.”

Lord Jeong shivered involuntarily and you grinned despite yourself. “You’ll make a good king. I feel it in my heart.”

He passed you an affectionate look. “Worry about yourself right now, dear.”

Lord Kang snorted at that and that sparked bickering between the three of you until one of the guards knocked to tell you that the court was ready to announce their decisions. You took a deep breath, the others mirroring your movement and the three of you shared a look before going to the court.

Everything was going to change from this moment.

And everything did change.

—------------------------

“Wooyoung, where did you put my speech?” You asked, checking all the drawers in the desk again. You recalled seeing him copying some bits from your speech, which earned him a smack from Yeosang, but he wasn’t bothered enough. You all knew he wasn’t going to read from a piece of paper anyway, he would simply improvise.

“Lord Jung Wooyoung,” you called in a warning tone which finally made him stop laughing at the very nervous, soon to be crowned Lord Jeong, who was pacing in front of the fireplace trying to play the events that would unfold tonight in his head, while the maid tried to get him to wear a jacket. The maid looked at you for help and you signalled her to settle down for now- no one could calm a nervous Lord Jeong.

“Ah, it must be somewhere around here,” he said dismissively, pointing at the very desk you had been searching for a solid five minutes now. You sent a glare in his direction before spotting a page on the floor near the couch where he had previously been sitting. You sighed, placing your speech back on the desk and skimming through it again.

“I know you’re both going to end up improvising anyway,” Yeosang said, “so why bother now? Stop trying to memorise it.”

“Honestly, you should be the one memorising it right now,” Wooyoung looked at him pointedly. “You always forget what you’re about to say.”

You stifled a snort at that, going towards your maid who sat helplessly with the jacket. You took it from her and patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, you’ve done enough.”

“I don’t want to be his maid when he becomes the King,” she pouted. “I want to continue working for you. I bet he’s not as good at chess as you are.”

“Oh, he’s better,” you laughed, glancing at the tall man now biting his nails while he stared at the fire. “Can you get Lord Choi? He must be in the Great Hall worrying just like him. And then you can get ready too. Remember to bring the flowers, okay?”

The maid got up, glad to be relieved of her duties and you joined Lord Jeong by the fireplace. “We still have some time before the coronation begins, so why don’t you sit down and relax a bit?”

“I’m still wondering if this is a good decision,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark locks. 

“Well…” you took a deep breath. “I’ve been monitoring you for the past three months, Yunho. I’d say you’re pretty good at what you do. If I had any doubts about you before… they’re gone now.”

“Really?” He asked, a smile growing on his lips as he looked at you. 

“Really,” you nodded, smiling back. You knew that Jeong Yunho may be good at what he did but he needed affirmation, especially from you. He was hell bent on the idea that you could keep being the Queen of Eden and he could be your royal advisor or something instead, but you made him switch the roles. You did not wish to be the Queen anymore- it wasn’t your place to be, though no one around you opposed the idea when he first presented it. So whenever you told Yunho that he made a great king, he took your word seriously. “It’s a big day today. Get some rest, please. We don’t want you fumbling in the Great Hall in front of hundreds of people, okay?”

“Geez, thanks,” Yunho shook his head, letting you help him with his jacket. You straightened the collars and patted his shoulder, glancing at your right to see San leaning against the wall and watching you two with a smile.

“Is she bothering you, Yunho? Should I see her out?”

“I’d rather you see him out,” he pointed at Wooyoung who was eating peanuts, throwing the shells at a very annoyed Yeosang who was throwing them back.

“Kids, both of them,” you laughed. Sometimes, you wondered why you ever thought they were serious individuals. Perhaps, now that you were close and comfortable enough with each other to skip the titles, you saw them in a new light now. 

Except now you used your titles to mock each other.

“Rich coming from you, Princess,” Wooyoung said. “I saw you trying to blow the seeds of the oranges and make them land in the bin. Must say, I’m impressed with your aim.”

You may have been ashamed some other day, but not now. “That’s what years of practice does. My aim is better than yours though- you really can’t land one shell on Yeosang.”

“Yes,” Yeosang agreed. “I’m better. Watch-” 

He flicked a shell that landed straight in the middle of Wooyoung’s head where he parted his hair, making him shut his eyes in annoyance as everyone laughed. San nudged your hand and you looked at him- he pointed towards the room. You were still living here even after getting divorced because Yunho insisted that you stay at least until the coronation and help him prepare in the meanwhile. You let San take you there and he squeezed your hand after shutting the door.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like the weight on my shoulder is getting lighter,” you laughed. “They all still treat me like I’m the Queen. Yeosang still calls me ‘Your Majesty’. I can’t wait until they start calling Yunho ‘Your Highness’.”

San laughed at that, kissing your temple. “Well, you’ll always be our queen. In our hearts.”

“Wait till the future queen hears about this,” you scoffed. “What about you? I bet you didn’t think you’d watch two coronations happen at this age.”

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to talk about,” San pulled out a letter from the pocket of his jacket. “The King- I should really stop calling him that, but he sent a letter. You should give it a read.”

“Oh?” You took the letter, wondering what its contents were. San made you sit down, assuring you that it was okay. You opened the letter and gave it a read.

My old friend San,

I hope you’re doing well. The weather here is nice, and I miss my parents. I think it is why I always avoided coming here, because this is where they were happy, and this is where I would miss them. Maybe I should have come here before I lost my path. I found my father’s journals and I’ve been reading them. After all the reading I’ve done in the past three months, I have realised that I have failed my parents, and y/n… she has made them proud by saving the kingdom that my parents worked so hard to protect. The kingdom my grandparents fought for, so we could live freely. If my mother was alive today, she would have liked y/n very much. If my father was alive today, he might have given her a position in his own court. I wronged her, I always knew that. I don’t know where the violence came from- my parents did not raise me like this. I understand that you are ashamed of me, like so many others, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. I hope she can forgive me one day too. I heard she won’t take the crown. I wish she would have, but if she insists cousin Jeong is a good choice… then I’ll agree with her. In my room, in my desk there is a secret compartment, the key to which I kept hidden in the bookshelf in y/n’s office between my favourite books- she will know which ones. You will find the tie that I wore to the coronation, that my ancestors wore, that I would like cousin Jeong to wear now. It is blue like the colour of Eden. 

I think I like it here. I might spend longer than my sentence of ten years. I would like it very much if you could visit me one day. Take care of yourself, and… take care of her. I know you will.

“Wow,” you breathed, turning the letter but finding it ending abruptly just like that with his signature in the bottom. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” San took your hand in his, caressing it. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s just that… I understand, I really do. But he sounds the same,” you looked at San. “He had his good days, and he sounded like this. I don’t know if he was having a good day or if he’s actually remorseful.”

“I don’t know either, but…” San cocked his head in thought. “If he’s actually feeling remorseful, this is a good first step.”

You nodded, staring at the letter. San gently took it away and tucked it back in his pocket, locking his eyes with yours and making sure you were okay before gently kissing you. You kissed him back, glad he was here with you right now. He drew back and smiled.

“Shall we go and crown the new king then? You and I, his Right Hand and Royal Advisor? You still have time if you want to change your position.”

“Nah, I’m good,” you looked around. “As much as I hated this room, this place… I have grown to love it. I don’t want to go back home and be a princess. I want to stay here with you, with everyone. Here, I’m just the King’s royal advisor. And the King won’t care if I’m Utopian.”

“You know, maybe he does,” Wooyoung butted in, entering the room without permission and you stifled the urge to roll your eyes. “He’s from Wonderland, he must hate you. Oh! Or better yet, the two of you might be planning to overthrow him, right? Come on, you can count me in-”

Yunho bumped his shoulder purposely with Wooyoung, making him almost fall on his face and you snorted. “Does my hair look better like this, or-” he parted his hair to the side messily. “Like this?”

You heard the sound of Yeosang laughing to himself and Wooyoung watched Yunho in disbelief. “Nah. He’s not fit to be the king. Princess… please continue to be the queen, please, Your Majesty-”

“Shut up, Wooyoung,” San warned, trying his best to not burst out laughing. You patted his shoulder, getting up and ignoring everyone, going to your office and scanning through the books until you found the astronomy one, wedged between politics and philosophy. You wedged your hand between astronomy and philosophy and felt the cold metal. Satisfied, you got the key out and exited the room to go to the King’s office, unlocking the compartment and finding the blue tie with the King’s wedding band that he had left behind. The one he never wore except on occasions. As if he wanted no physical evidence that he was bound to you.

You took the tie and went back to your room, finding all three of them styling a flustered Yunho’s hair. A knock sounded and your maid entered, saying that it was time for you all to enter the Hall. You shooed the boys away and helped Yunho with the tie, telling him its history and approving his hair. Yeosang and Wooyoung started to push Yunho out of the room and you looked in the mirror- no signs of distress or sadness on your face for once. 

San stood behind you, admiring your flowing blue gown in the mirror, and without warning, pulled the hairpin out of your hair, letting half the curls fall down with your front pinned back. You gasped, “It took the maid 2 hours, Choi San!”

“I like your hair better this way,” he muttered in a low voice laced with innuendo. “I like your hair messy.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, pushing him away with a grin and touching your lipstick again. “Don’t kiss me for the rest of the night.”

“And when the night is over?”

“Then, and only then,” you turned to him, running your finger down his chest. “You can ruin my lipstick then.”

San bowed as if it was an order and arm in arm, you exited your chamber, ready to remove your title of ‘queen’ once and for all. You didn’t need it anymore. You were only a princess now, and your knight was the only person you would ever need.

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK ROYAL FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONSજ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

♞ 4 Seasons | Royal Guard!Jungkook x Fem!Princess!Reader | series | @sweetcarrotsandroses97

♞ Bloody Love... | yandere!king!jungkook X oc(coronis) | Series | @hongjoongscafe

♞ La Belle et la Bête | yandere!king!jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @chaoticpuff17

♞ Sing to me |Prince!Siren!Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @bonny-kookoo

♞ the exile | jungkook x f!reader | Series | @dxnbeez

♞ warrior jk | warrior!jungkook x princess!reader | @jungkookschin

♞ Hieros Gamos | God!Thanatos!Jungkook x Goddess!reader | @girl8890

♞ Dynasty | Jk X reader | Historical AU | @jimlingss

♞ petals with luv | Emporer!Jungkook x PalaceWoman!Reader | Hanahaki AU | @hisunshiine

♞ a lover’s bond | jungkook x female reader | greek mythology! AU | @latetaektalk

♞ prima nocta | king!jungkook, virgin!reader | royalty au | One-Shot | @yoon2kmain

Love Letters | Prince!Jungkook × Maid!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

♞ The Dark Prince | Prince!Jungkook X Caretaker! freader | Series | @jkeuphoriadreamland

♞ Your Head | Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader | OneShot | @kookiecrumb

♞ Once Upon a Bracelet | Prince Jungkook x Sorceress Reader | Fantasy Au | @ladyartemesia

♞ something in the heir | knight!jungkook x palace woman!reader | Oneshot | @hisunshiine

♞ Divine Intervention | Jungkook x Goddess!Reader | Oneshot | @minisugakoobies

♞ simply meant to be | pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader | OneShot | @caelesjjk

♞ UNWANTED | King/brother Jungkook × slave/older sister YN | @kangmoon27

♞ angel in the marble | michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au | OneShot | @venusjeon

♞ Primrose | Emperor Jungkook x Empress Y/N | @mingshits

♞ Aggressive | Prince ! Jungkook × reader | OneShot | @rialikesbts

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

MASTERLIST here

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [16]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 15 | Fic Masterlist | Part 17

What's the meaning of this, Your Highness?

As you entered the grand hall, discomfort painted across your features, Jongho and Eunsook trailed closely behind, exchanging concerned glances. The announcement made by the palace staff had only made the prince's intentions abundantly clear to them.

The head maid, not wanting you to feel alone, stepped up beside you to check on you, "Are you feeling alright, mistress?" She inquired. Jongho nodded in agreement from your other side, suggesting, "Yes, perhaps we can leave early if you are not feeling well."

"Miss Jang! Are you not feeling well, my lady?" Yeosang's deep voice interrupted, your eyes widening at his appearance. As you began to perform the formal bow, he quickly halted you by gently grasping your arms, "No need to be so formal with me," He said softly, "If you're feeling unwell, you can come and rest in my chambers."

Jongho and Eunsook froze at the fourth prince's suggestion, dread washing over them. They could only hope you would decline the invitation, but they knew it wasn't their place to intervene. The idea was simply inappropriate; as a married woman, retiring to another man's private chambers was scandalous. If news of this spread, it would undoubtedly tarnish your reputation and bring dishonour to the general's name.

To their relief, you didn't hesitate to shake your head, "Oh dear, no, Your Highness. Thank you for the offer, but I was simply taken aback by the grandeur of everything. It's my first time attending such a prestigious event, and perhaps I just need a moment to take it all in."

That wasn't entirely untrue, as you finally seized the opportunity to marvel at your surroundings. While your husband's estate was luxurious, it paled in comparison to the opulence of the royal palace. Palace servants bustled about, ensuring everything was flawless. However, you couldn't help but notice the absence of banquet guests, which surprised and unsettled you.

Yeosang fought hard to conceal any disappointment, maintaining a composed smile at your response, "Ah, yes, indeed. How inconsiderate of me not to offer you a tour of the palace first, especially after the delightful tour you provided me at General Park's estate. I believe it's only right for me to return the favour now."

You blinked, "B-but the banquet—"

The prince grinned, cutting you off, "As you can see, you've arrived quite early, my lady. The other guests are not here yet, so I might as well keep you entertained until the event officially begins."

The assistant and head maid were deeply uneasy about the situation unfolding before them as they watched you, left with not much of a choice, agreed unsurely to the so-called tour. It was evident to them that this must be part of Yeosang's scheme. Jongho had ensured your departure from the estate was precisely timed; you couldn't have arrived too early.

"Fantastic! Now, if you'll just come with me," His Highness beckoned as the three of you began to follow him. Just as you started to move, he turned around smugly with an additional suggestion, "Oh, actually, your staff can stay behind if they'd like. That way, we can converse more freely, just the two of us, as we did back at the general's estate. What do you say, Miss Jang?"

It took everything in Eunsook to resist the urge to firmly remind the prince that you already belonged to another.

Similarly agitated by Yeosang's persistence, Jongho silently prayed that Seonghwa had received his letter. Despite being well aware of the impropriety of distracting the general during wartime, after much consideration and discussion with the other guys, they concluded that your husband deserved to be informed of the situation.

Fortunately, you offered a reassuring smile to your two chaperones before turning to address the fourth prince, "I'm sure that would not be necessary, Your Highness. I prefer having them close just in case I require any assistance."

As they witnessed your resolute refusal of the offer, Jongho and Eunsook felt a surge of pride. Truthfully, they had been anxious since Hongjoong had confided in them about the doubts you were harbouring regarding Seonghwa. But they dared not bring it up, wary of your potential reaction. Though a part of them had worried you might be swayed by Yeosang's charms, your firm stance reassured them of your unwavering loyalty to the general.

However, they couldn't shake off the sly glint still evident in the prince's eyes. He seemed oddly pleased despite your rejection to spend time alone with him. That troubled them deeply, and the two exchanged worried glances, silently contemplating what else he could possibly have in store.

With a light chuckle, His Highness replied, "Very well then, I suppose they could come along. This way, my lady. I know a few places you'll find intriguing."

Unlike your husband's staff, you were entirely unaware of Yeosang's intentions. Even then, there was just an inexplicably ominous aura to his demeanour that unsettled you, further intensifying your longing for Seonghwa. The banquet had barely even begun, but you already felt mentally exhausted, wanting nothing more than to rely on the general as you always had.

I miss you, Park Seonghwa.

Before you could dwell on thoughts of your beloved and his well-being, you suddenly recognised the surroundings. The enchanting cherry blossom garden, where you had first met the prince, spread out before you, "Do you remember this place, my lady?" He asked, his tone soft with nostalgia, "It has become my favourite spot in all of the palace since meeting you."

"How could I ever forget, Your Highness?" You replied, momentarily causing Jongho and Eunsook's hearts to sink until you continued with a genuinely innocent smile, "This garden is the only place I've had the pleasure of visiting so far."

Although your response should have let him down, Yeosang found his heart melting at your sincerity. It only served to deepen his admiration for you, knowing that you weren't one to offer insincere compliments or put on a fake smile just because of his status. You were simply yourself, and he found that utterly captivating.

As the four of you neared one of the garden's tallest and most exquisite cherry blossom trees, you found yourself gazing upward in awe at the falling petals, taking in the breathtaking sight. The beauty of the place was undeniable, and you couldn't help but imagine spending hours strolling around and admiring the flowers if this were your home.

His Highness watched you beneath the gently falling pink blossoms, feeling his heart swell with warmth. The scene before him was like a painting, and he longed to preserve it in his memory forever. Just standing there with you, experiencing this moment, filled him with an overwhelming desire to give you everything he had. It was a new and unfamiliar feeling for him, this deep sense of affection for another person. For the first time, he found himself completely enamoured by someone's presence.

"It truly is a sight to behold, isn't it?" You nodded wordlessly in response to the prince's question, reaching out to catch some of the delicate flowers before he continued, "You know, perhaps it's not too late to change your favourite flower from lotus to cherry blossoms."

Though his words seemed simple and harmless, they carried a subtle yet unmistakable implication. This was apparent to the assistant, the head maid, and, for once, to you as well. Deep in thought, you pondered the best way to respond to his suggestion. Somehow, you sensed a deeper meaning in his words from the determined look in his eyes that were almost silently urging you to choose him.

With a soft smile, you caught a falling flower, "Thank you, Your Highness. Cherry blossoms are indeed beautiful, but I still prefer lotus flowers. You see, cherry blossoms may be stunning when they bloom, but they also fall quite fast. To me, the lotus represents endurance and resilience, as it thrives in adverse conditions and blooms beautifully despite its surroundings."

This time, you hoped the prince understood the subtle implication behind your words. The short lifespan of cherry blossoms symbolised fleeting happiness, whereas the lotus embodied strength and perseverance through difficulties—a sentiment you hoped would mirror the love shared between you and Seonghwa.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged a subtle glance, their smiles growing wider as they registered the meaning of your response.

Meanwhile, Yeosang's composure faltered ever so slightly at your polite rejection. The light in his eyes dimmed momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure, masking any hint of disappointment, "Understood, my lady," He replied with a gracious nod, "You do make a good point. Since we've already been here before, let us move on to the next location then."

As he guided you through various parts of the palace, you found yourself fascinated by the history and beauty of each location. The royal library, with its towering shelves of ancient texts, stirred a sense of awe in you as the prince shared stories of his lessons there. The astronomy tower offered a breathtaking view, and you marvelled at the cityscape from above.

In the kitchen, where the aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the air, His Highness confessed with a mischievous grin that he often snuck in for a late-night snack. You couldn't help but chuckle at his antics, finding his playful side endearing.

However, as Yeosang led you past the main hall where morning assemblies with His Majesty were held, Jongho's earlier worries resurfaced. Despite the seemingly innocent nature of the tour, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him. Each step further into the heart of the palace felt like a step into unknown territory, and he feared what might happen next.

The assistant's breath caught in his throat as he realised the path the fourth prince was leading you down, the daunting sight of the palace torture chambers coming into view.

No, not this place. Anywhere but here.

In the warzone on the other side of the nation, General Officer Song grappled with his own internal conflicts as he tightly gripped the letters from Jongho and Prince Yeosang. He felt a strong reluctance to deliver them to his superior.

The truth was that General Park had sustained injuries in his recent and one of the more challenging battles. While the situation had calmed down and most of the enemy troops were either strewn lifelessly across the battlefield or had retreated to their camps, Seonghwa's injury had been kept secret to prevent causing panic within their army, following the general's direct orders.

Mingi stood in the makeshift office tent, the letters weighing heavily in his hands. His mind raced with thoughts, torn between his duty as a military officer and his concern for General Park's well-being.

On one hand, keeping the letters hidden seemed like the logical course of action. They were in the midst of a war, and any distraction for their most crucial member could be detrimental to their efforts. Having Seonghwa away from camp for personal matters could compromise their military strategy and the safety of their troops.

Yet, on the other hand, he couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility towards the general and his relationship with Lady Park. If he withheld this crucial information and something were to happen between you and the prince, he would bear the blame. The thought of Seonghwa's potential anguish at being kept in the dark about his wife's situation weighed heavily on him.

With no time to spare for further contemplation, a soldier from the medical team entered the tent, "Officer Song, the general's condition has stabilised. You're permitted to see him in his private tent now."

Acknowledging the news with a nod, the military strategist expressed his gratitude, "Understood. Thank you, soldier. I'll head there immediately."

Not wasting another second, Mingi made his way over to General Park's tent, his concern for his friend overriding any other thought for now. As he pushed aside the tent flap and stepped inside, his heart lurched at the sight before him.

The usually formidable military commander lay in bed, his complexion pale and his once-strong demeanour replaced by one of weakness. Seonghwa's hand was clenched tightly around the bandages covering his abdomen, his expression a mixture of pain and discomfort.

"Hyung-nim," Officer Song's voice was filled with worry as he approached the bedside, "How are you feeling?"

Suppressing a wince, the general released a breathy chuckle, "I'm fine, Mingi," He reassured, though his tone lacked conviction, "I've never seen you look this bothered before. It's almost funny."

The taller man scoffed in response, "And I've never seen you in pain like this before. But this isn't funny."

Seonghwa waved off his friend's concern with a weak smile, "Don't worry, it's just a scratch," He insisted, though his tone contradicted his words, "One of those sneaky bastards on the battlefield played dead. I let my guard down for a moment, and he took advantage of it."

Mingi's eyes widened in alarm, "And he managed to graze you?"

Nodding grimly, the general replied, "Yes, it could have been worse if I hadn't reacted in time. But it's strange. The wound shouldn't hurt this much, considering it's just a graze. Perhaps it's my age catching up with me. After all, I'm not as young as I used to be," He admitted ruefully, "But it's nothing serious. Just a minor setback."

Relieved that his superior seemed to be in stable condition, the strategist decided it was best to allow his friend some much-needed rest. With a reassuring pat on the shoulder, he advised, "You should probably rest up. We can't have you bedridden for long. I'll keep watch for now."

As he moved to leave the tent, the general posed a question, stopping him abruptly in his tracks, "Wait, Mingi, did anything happen while I was being treated earlier?" The taller man froze, his hand pressing on the papers he had kept in his pocket anxiously. He debated whether to reveal the contents of the letters now or wait until Seonghwa was in a better state.

He hesitated, grappling with the weight of his decision. After a moment's pause, he opted to keep the letters from your husband. Turning to offer a strained smile to the general, he denied any incident, "No, nothing happened. Don't worry, hyung-nim."

Seonghwa nodded slowly, his brows furrowing slightly, "I see."

A heavy silence hung between them until the strategist broke it with a forced cough, "I should probably head out now."

Before he could move, the general's voice cut through the air with accusation, "Do you honestly think me a fool, Officer Song? I offered you a chance for honesty, yet you persist in deceit. I may be injured, but I am not deaf. I heard the messenger loud and clear. Now, hand me my letters."

Mingi cursed inwardly, realising his mistake in attempting to deceive the great General Park. Sputtering, he reluctantly retrieved the crumpled letters from his pocket before handing them over, "I-I'm sorry, hyung-nim... I didn't mean to—"

Seonghwa shook his head in disbelief, snatching the papers from his friend's grasp, "I know you only did what you thought was right, just as you always do. But we both know you're a dumbass when it comes to anything outside of war strategising."

The taller man sighed as he observed the general's expression darkening further with each word he read from both letters. His fists clenched tightly as he digested the contents of the prince's letter, the paper tearing at the edges from his grip.

This son of a—

Jongho's prayers seemed to be answered as his master finally received his letter, but merely reading it wouldn't be enough to fix any of the damage the fourth prince was about to inflict.

As you gazed at the looming building ahead, an odd sense of dread filled your stomach, signalling that it probably wasn't a place any of you should be near. Yeosang's grin only heightened your apprehension, "Do you know what this place is, my lady?" His question struck fear into the assistant, who now realised the prince's strategy. Casting an anxious glance at Eunsook, his eyes conveyed the hopelessness of the situation. Previously confident in your faithfulness to your husband, they now harboured doubts.

Blinking rapidly, you croaked out, "I'm afraid I'm not too sure, Your Highness. But perhaps we should head back to the hall; we've been gone for a while now."

The prince shook his head dismissively, "You're always so thoughtful, my lady, but the banquet can wait. Come on, aren't you curious? This is a place General Park frequents. Surely, you'd be interested to learn what he does here." Your blood ran cold in an instant, sensing the conversation was taking a dangerous turn.

"I'm sure Assistant Choi has become quite familiar with this place by now, haven't you? You're always here to pick the general up after he finishes his sessions." Yeosang remarked, amused, as he observed the younger man struggling to respond.

Smirking, he went on, "Welcome, Miss Jang, to the palace torture chambers. I thought it'd be enlightening to show you where your... husband typically conducts important duties. You must have been curious about his activities during his working hours."

The revelation hit you like a tidal wave, freezing you in place. This was where your family had suffered, where Seonghwa had overseen their punishments, as San had explained. The weight of the truth settled heavily on your shoulders, sending a shiver down your spine as horror and disbelief mingled within you.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged a look filled with desperation. They silently prayed for some miracle to whisk them away from this awful place. Oh, how they wished their master could appear now, but they knew it was nothing more than a wistful hope.

Your silence seemed to fuel Yeosang's discourse, "We should be thankful for General Park's services to the nation, of course," He continued, his tone dripping with faux gratitude, "Only the lord knows how many war criminals and spies he had tortured behind these walls to protect us."

Feigning contemplation, he added, "And if I remember correctly, he was also here when the Jang family underwent their physical punishments. Though I'm sure the general must have already informed you of that," He glanced at Eunsook, who lowered her head, her eyes shut tightly in fear of your reaction, "Especially how he made sure to spend extra hours with the former minister post-punishment."

Extra hours...?

Your heart plummeted to the lowest pit of your stomach as his words sank in. Did your husband do more than just supervise the punishments? The implications gnawed at your mind, and a thousand questions raced through your head. What else could Seonghwa have possibly done to your father? Dread washed over you in waves as you struggled to comprehend the truth behind the prince's insinuations.

« Preview of Part 17 »

"General Park! Where is he?!" The military doctor rushed into the main tent in a panic after realising Seonghwa was nowhere to be found in his private tent.

Mingi looked up from his documents, "My apologies, I should have informed you earlier to prevent any unnecessary alarm. The general mentioned feeling slightly better and had left camp to return home briefly for a family emergency."

"He left?! Is he making the journey back to the city alone?" The physician squeaked, eyes widening in alarm.

Officer Song nodded, his brows furrowed, "Yes, doc. What's wrong? You're scaring me."

Gulping nervously, the doctor retrieved the dagger used by the enemy earlier, "We found it unusual for such a small wound to affect the general so severely. We ran some tests on the weapon and..."

Mingi began to rise from his seat immediately, anxiety was evident in his expression, "Tell me, what did you find?"

"This dagger was laced with poisonous viper venom. It's potent enough to cause damage to his internal organs. He's lucky it was just a graze, but even so, we can't be sure how much venom has entered his system. He requires thorough treatment to prevent the poison from spreading."

Shit, shit, SHIT.

I AM SO SORRY! Okay, I know I said there would be drama in this part, and believe me when I say this, I fully intended to include it in this part in the beginning... but I am planning to end the story in part 20. So, after careful calculations, seems like it's only right to put the climax in part 17.

Also, it's official! There will be spinoff stories for the other members, I'm so excited! I hope you are too! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: king! Seonghwa x queen! f! yn

Word Count: 2804

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, royal au, M for mature audiences

Summary: Your marriage to Seonghwa has been nothing exciting. But things change during his coronation ball.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, slight begging, pretty vanilla if i do say so myself lol

Written for @cultofdionysusnet's permanent event <3 took me a bit to get it down lol, and a big thank you to @arafilez and @sanjoongie for helping me out <3 i really wrote 1.5k prologue before getting to the smut and u can tell it got to me since the smut is very storybook like and not just filth lol

AND yes i know the irony of having a red themed banner when the title is blue blood but hey man i...have no excuse

-

Your palms are sweaty. It’s the first ball the royal family has hosted since your marriage to the then-Crown Prince, Park Seonghwa. And it’s the first social gathering you’ve attended since. You’re pretty sure the maids can see how nervous you are and you’re grateful the wine-red gown you’ve adorned for the occasion will cover any sweat marks or wrinkles you’re sure you will make.

You cannot even politely decline this event—not when it’s marking the start of your husband’s reign as king.

As the maids layer one last necklace, you shiver at the feeling of the cool metal touching your skin. The sparks flickering inside the red jewel catch your eye and you brush your fingers against it with a bittersweet smile. It was a wedding gift from your husband, the Park family blessed with fire magic. You find it ironic that such a cold-faced family can have control over such warm and bright magic, as well as red being their crest colour.

You don’t hate Seonghwa, of course. He’s been respectful to you, only speaking to you when necessary and otherwise leaving you be. The two of you share different, albeit connected, chambers, and he never enters your room without permission on the rare occasion he needs to.

But God, you wish he would at least smile at you so you don’t feel like a piece of furniture in your new home. While high up in nobility as the daughter of an Earl, you were no duchess and you were sure if you attended social teas you would be scrutinised. So you stick with counselling the civilians who cannot win an audience with Seonghwa and managing the household.

With another sigh, you send the servants away to gather your wits before meeting your husband in the foyer. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing deep, before moving to pour yourself a small glass of wine.

As you down the bitter liquid, a knock sounds at the door. “YN, are you in there?” The honey-deep voice of your husband makes you jump a little.

“Ah, yes, I’m coming,” you call out, setting down the crystal glass and opening the door to see your husband standing just a bit too close to the door. You’re met with a faceful of his chest and you stumble back. “Ah–”

A firm hand wraps around your waist to keep you from tripping on your skirt and you can see the faint amusement on Seonghwa’s face. “Now, now, we can’t have you falling even before the dancing starts,” he chuckles, and you stare at him, unused to such a cheerful demeanour from him. His lips twitch as he holds back his smile. “Are you all right, my wife? You look a little befuddled.”

You blink up at him owlishly before realising how you must look and quickly turning your face away. “I’m all right. Shall we go down, then?”

Seonghwa chuckles low in his throat. His hand reaches up and brushes a few strands of your hair out of your eyes. His touch is soft and you involuntarily find yourself melting just a little. “Yes, let’s go and show off my beautiful wife.”

You laugh at that, pushing him away playfully. “This night isn’t about me, it’s about you…my king.”

Seonghwa coughs when you use his new title and it’s his turn to face away from you, although you can see his ears are red. “Yes, well. Let’s get going then. We can’t keep our guests waiting.” He offers up his arm for you to take, and you gingerly rest your hands on him with a small smile, keeping your eyes lowered.

Thankfully the distance from your rooms to the foyer isn’t far as the walk there is awkwardly silent. But as soon as you enter and all eyes are on you two, it’s like a button is pressed that makes you immediately at ease and you intermingle easily with your guests. Waiters are milling about serving a selection of wines, and you drink just a tad more than you ought.

It’s nice to mingle with the courtesans and landowners like you used to, and you make a mental note to start attending tea again. You were anxious about them for nothing—they’ve known you since before you were the queen so they aren’t forming any new opinions of you.

Giggling, you weave your way around the crowd until you bump into a firm back. “Hello, my wife,” Seonghwa hums, holding you steady with amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. “I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

You blame the lingering burn of alcohol in your veins for the following actions. You lean onto his shoulder, a dazed smile pulling at your lips as you look up at your husband. “I am, Hwa.” The nickname tumbles naturally from your lips without a second thought although Seonghwa’s eyes widen for a split second. “Are you enjoying yourself too?”

“I’ll excuse myself, you spend time with your wife.” You hardly even register the minister of defence’s words as you wrap an arm around Seonghwa’s waist and press a kiss to the shoulder of his uniform. “Congratulations on your ascent to the throne, your majesty.”

Seonghwa bows as best he can with you attached to him before turning to you to place both his hands on your shoulders. “Do you need to go to bed? The party is slowing down a bit so you can if you’d like.”

You shake your head, subconsciously pouting. “No, I wanna wait for you first.” Your head leans against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat pick up slightly.

“...Alright. Let’s close this up nicely, YN.”

You don’t really know what’s happening, but you smile and farewell the last stragglers as the time passes. The alcohol is almost out of your system, but you stay close to Seonghwa, not ready to let him go quite yet. His arm around your waist makes your heart flutter and you look up at him as he waves away the last guest.

“Why are you staring at me?” he murmurs without even looking down and you chuckle to yourself, gaze unwavering.

“I like you, Hwa.”

It feels like time stands still as soon as the words fall from your mouth. Seonghwa’s eyes find your own and neither of you move for a long second. “...Are you still drunk?” You would find his question offensive, but his tone is hopeful so you can’t find it in your heart to.

“No, not for this,” you shake your hair and before he can stop himself, Seonghwa brushes your hair out of your face again. “I’m not in love, not yet. But I can safely say I like you. Especially if you keep touching me like this.”

Something must have overcome Seonghwa in that moment because he leans in and his grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. “Well, in that case. I like you too. And I could touch you a lot more if you’d let me.” He practically whispers the last sentence, his lips almost ghosting over yours.

You blink at him, a mirror to just before the party, and a smile grows on your face. “I’d let you.”

Seonghwa straightens up immediately, a light blush dusting his cheeks and he calls over one of the servants and whispers something to them. When the servant nods and hurries off, Seonghwa turns back to you, a wolfish grin growing on his face. “Shall we head back to our chambers, my wife?”

Heat slowly crawls over your face as you nod eagerly and Seonghwa chuckles and cups your face tenderly, placing a kiss on your forehead before taking your wrist and leading you up the flights of stairs in the next breath.

The two of you burst into his room giggling and hands clasped. Seonghwa kicks the door closed and pulls you into his arms, his face buried in your hair as he breathes in your scent. “...You’re sure you’re not drunk?”

His voice is small, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it. Wriggling your way out of his grasp, you bring his slender hands to your lips and press a light kiss to the tips of his fingers. “I’m absolutely sure, my king.”

Seonghwa lets out another deep breath, stepping closer and leaning down to gently press his lips against yours. You taste of bitter wine, but he seems to enjoy it, brushing his tongue over the seam of your lips and you eagerly grant access. The two of you deepen the kiss as he slowly backs you to his bed. When your knees touch the mattress Seonghwa breaks away, his lips swollen and spit slicked.

“Strip?” he asks, his voice gravelly and your thighs clench at the sound of it. You reach behind you, attempting to reach the fasteners but failing. Seonghwa chuckles, spinning you around. “You’re so pretty, YN. I’m glad I get to share my life with you.” His hand rests on your shoulder blade as he undoes each clasp with his other hand.

Suddenly, his lips touch your shoulder bone and you gasp at the soft feeling. “Hwa–”

“I’d like to bend you over right now, but you’re too precious to be taken so roughly on our first time. I want to cherish you like the queen you are.” Seonghwa mouths at your hot skin, his hands moving up and down your sides as your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in your undergarments.

Your hands instinctively come up to cover yourself but Seonghwa’s reflexes are faster than yours and he grabs your wrists, holding you in place. “Don’t cover up, my wife,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss you sweetly. “Let me love you like you deserve.”

You look at him with wide eyes, before nodding the tiniest bit. Seonghwa isn’t satisfied, an eyebrow raising, and you squeak out a quiet “yes”. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, his mouth is reattached to your neck and his hips grind down onto your hip and you can feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh.

“Hwa, please,” you whine, feeling a burning in your core.

“Mmh, love it when you call me that,” Seonghwa murmurs, his hand coming down to unfasten his pants and shoving them down enough to free his cock. “There’s something about you that’s so fucking alluring. All I can think about is fucking you so well all you can do is think about me just as much as I do with you.”

He shifts, adjusting himself so he can grind his cock against your dripping folds and kiss you at the same time. The softness of his lips makes you smile and you throw your arms around him to bring him closer to you. For a moment, both of you are too caught up in your kiss, but then the tip of his dick gets caught in your fluttering hole and you moan into his mouth.

“Gods–” Seonghwa groans, hips stilling. You can feel every time his dick twitches inside of you. “Are you ready? Please–” The last word falls from his lips in a whisper, as if he’s almost embarrassed to beg.

Instead of a response, you hook your legs around his waist and pull his hips flush against you, immediately driving his cock deep inside you. You throw your head back at the feeling of it spearing into you, Seonghwa dropping his head to rest against your chest. “Fuck, you’re so– so perfect for me,” he stutters out, his voice low and heavy with lust. “Want to stay like this forever.”

“Less talking,” you order, twisting your hips to try and get him impossibly deeper inside of you. A crooked smile pulls at Seonghwa’s lips, and before you can say anything else, he pulls back and starts hammering into you like it’s his last day in the kingdom.

You can hardly get words out, only whines and mumbles, his cock reaching so deep inside of you. With every thrust, he hits that perfect spot inside of you and your hands dig into the thick fabric of his uniform top. “Ah– Seonghwa, you’re splitting me apart so good,” you moan, breath hot on his neck.

You swear your guts will be rearranged after this, his thick cock stretching you so perfectly. With every thrust, you can feel your walls squeezing so tightly around him and your hips are shaking with pleasure. Seonghwa’s eyes are trained on the junction where his cock is driving deep into you, mesmerised by the glistening slick covering both of your thighs.

Without warning, his slender fingers travel down your body to press at your clit. A gasp rips its way out of your throat and you moan embarrassingly loud, your hips kicking up. “Seonghwa–”

He leans in, his hand still rubbing small circles on your clit, pressing his lips sweetly to yours once again. “Shit, Hwa, you’re too perfect for me. Treating me so well.”

Seonghwa groans and bites your shoulder. “You look so pretty on my cock, my wife. You’d look so pretty full with me dripping out of you. I should show you every day how much I love you, hmm? It’s what you deserve. A pampered life as my wife, the queen by my side.” His teeth sink into your lower lip and his fingers speed up their ministrations.

“Ah– I’m close Seonghwa,” you moan into his mouth, and you can practically feel him smile against your lips.

With one particularly well-delivered thrust, Seonghwa growls, “Come for me, YN.”

Without much further prompting, just a twist of his fingers on your clit, you groan, back arching and your cunt clenching around Seonghwa as you fall over the edge of your orgasm, your husband following soon after. Ropes of searing hot come shoot deep inside of you and you let out a long sigh at the feeling. Seonghwa rests his forehead on yours as his hips slow to a stop, letting your orgasms wash over both of you completely.

You let your body completely relax on the mattress, staring up at the canopy of the bed. When you were preparing for the party, the last thing you expected was to get your brains fucked out by Seonghwa, but you won’t complain. You breathe out and relax, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through his dark hair.

“Feeling good?” you ask your husband, and Seonghwa laughs, tilting his head up.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s get my lovely wife cleaned up. I have to change the sheets in the meantime.” Seonghwa gets up, stretching a little, and you can’t help but stare at the sliver of waist you see. You can feel his come dribbling out of you and instinctively you clench your thighs although you know you must get up soon enough.

But before you can even make any move to, Seonghwa leans down and scoops you up, carrying you over to your shared bathroom. “Ah– Hwa–” you scold, gripping onto his shoulders. “My legs work!”

Seonghwa laughs, nuzzling into your hair. “Then I should fix that next time.”

You laugh and smack at his shoulder. “Hwa, no, I like being able to move.”

Seonghwa shakes his head but doesn’t respond, just turning on the faucet and sitting you down in the water. “Is this all right for you?” he asks, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Come sit with me too, Hwa. You should get to relax too.”

“Ah, but the sheets,” Seonghwa tries, but you grab the hem of his shirt.

“We can use my quarters, Seonghwa.” You stare up at him with pleading eyes, and you can see him hesitate. “Please, Hwa?”

And just like magic, your words break down Seonghwa’s hesitation and he sighs, unfastening his shirt and throwing off his pants. As he lowers himself behind you, your hand reaches back to steady him.

As the two of you sit in the warm water, you take a chance and lean back against his firm chest. You can feel him stiffen and your breath catches in your throat, but in the end, he just relaxes and throws an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know, ever since I saw you on the wedding day, I was happy to have you as my wife,” Seonghwa hums, rocking you back and forth slightly.

You tilt your head up to smile at him sweetly. “And seeing you in your wedding robes looking every bit of a fairy, I was happy to have you as my husband.” Seonghwa leans down to press his lips against yours, brushing your hair behind your ear. You can feel his own smile against your mouth and your eyes flutter shut.

“Let’s stay like this for as long as we can.”

[tasteleeknow]

EVERYTHING AND NO ONE

PAIRING: prince!minho x maidservant!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. angst. royal!au. forbidden love. CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. unprotected intercourse. major injury. pet names. WORD COUNT: 14.3k (and i could've kept going)

SUMMARY: you're a royal servant, someone who was supposed to sink into the shadows and speak only when spoken to. power: you had none... except when it came to the crown prince.

NOTE: thank you to @lino-nyangi, @tasteracha, and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading and helping me edit this beast.

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

You’d never forget the first time you saw him. Pushed forward by the momentum of the crowd, you found yourself in a prime position to see the royal procession through the city. Leading an annual hunt in celebration of his birth, Minho sat astride his horse, offering small waves to the cheering crowd as he passed. It was only then, seeing him in the flesh that the reality of your new role as a royal maidservant finally sunk in. You were due to start the next day, to train while they were away and be prepared to serve when they returned.

Two years later you prepare his bath in preparation for his first night returned from this year's hunt. It’s a process of lugging buckets of hot water from the pump at the end of the hallway, enough to fill the large tub that sat in the corner of his large room. Then, when the tub is full and you’ve tested the water temperature, you place a small offering on the stool beside it. A bar of soap. In the little free time you had, that is what you did: make soap. It was calming, and using the soap you’d infused with sumptuous scents was one of the few luxuries you had. You shared any extras with the prince. He was kind. 

He wasn’t like the other members of the court, he’d acknowledge your presence, he’d speak to you like you were a person as complex as he was. It wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. When he’d started, it had thrown you off kilter. You weren’t prepared to have conversations with the crowned prince. You’d been told in your training to not be heard, and if you could help it, not seen either. Still, he’d persevered, chatting to you like you weren’t supposed to complete your tasks and get out of the way with as little disturbance as possible. 

You stand as the door opens, brushing down your apron and making yourself presentable for his entrance, just as you were supposed to. He sweeps into the room as he always does, ignoring any sense of decorum and addressing you directly. 

“Are you making me a bath, little dove?” he says, unbuckling his sword belt. 

It wasn’t a new nickname. He’d taken to calling you that a year prior. You had no idea what to make of it, apart from that he couldn’t mean anything bad by it. He didn’t have an unkind bone in his body. Even towards someone like you. 

“Stop calling me that,” you sigh, returning to your task of filling the large tub with warm water. You tip the final bucket in. 

“What should I call you instead?” 

“Nothing. You know you cannot talk to me at all.” 

“Cannot?” he questions, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Should not,” you correct. “Of course, you can do anything you like.” 

“You know that’s not true.” 

“Is it not?” you question, placing the bucket down beside you. 

“There are… many things you can do that I cannot.” 

You huff out a laugh, swirling your fingers through the bath water to check its temperature. He may be kind, but he was still a prince, he couldn’t help his ignorance. “Unless you mean make a bed or scrub a floor, I’ll have to disagree.” 

He ignores your snarky comment, like always. It’s a dangerous line you toe, you remind yourself. 

“You can marry who you like,” he says. 

You stand, lifting your now empty bucket onto your hip. “Can I?” 

“Of course. You’ll marry someone you love. I’ll wed someone chosen for me.” 

“I’m not sure I’ll marry at all.” 

He takes a step towards you and holds his cuff out, silently asking for help to unfasten the buttons. You lower your bucket to the floor and close the distance between you. 

“Why is that?” he asks as you work on unbuttoning each cuff. 

“I have my work here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and you think he’s dropped the subject. Then he speaks again. 

“You wouldn’t leave for love?” 

You shrug. “I love my life; my work. I don’t need anything else.” You don’t add that he was a major part of the reason why, that you enjoyed talking to him too. “Whoever is chosen for you, you might come to love her.” 

He’s quiet. 

“I don’t think I will,” he pauses, and when he speaks again, the sorrow leaking from his tone takes you off guard. “I don’t think I can love again.” 

You lift your eyes to his. “Again?” you question. You had never known him to court anyone. Perhaps before you arrived? Although surely that’s gossip you would have overheard downstairs. 

“No, little dove. Not again.” 

“Are you courting? A secret courtship?” 

He smiles. “No, I don’t think I’d call it a courtship.” 

“But you’re in love?” 

He nods. 

“Don’t let them hurt you.” 

“I don’t think I can promise that,” he says, one corner of his mouth tilting up into a sad smile. 

“You think they’ll hurt you?” 

“Not on purpose.” 

He laughs when you frown, concerned. “Don’t fret, dove. I’m prepared for it. I’ve always known she wasn’t for me. I can’t have everything I want, remember.” 

—

It’s only a few weeks later that an announcement is made: the crowned prince is to marry. You’re prepared for it, you knew it was coming any day and still… you cry. You let yourself have one night of tears. Then, the next morning, you put it from your mind. It’s not your place to mourn the loss of him, he was never yours in the first place. The only consolation you can take from the news is that it helped explain his low mood over the past week, he wasn’t losing interest in your company, he was processing his soon to be announced nuptials. 

He’s quiet as you move around the room, preparing his room for the day. He sits solemnly on the edge of his bed. You can feel his eyes on you. His silence is unnerving, out of character. It’s so unnerving you eventually spin to face him. 

“Are you going to continue staring until I leave the room?” 

It’s enough to be thrown from the palace: addressing him directly, speaking to him like this. You were too comfortable. Sometimes you wondered if you’d ever slip up when you weren’t alone, speak to him in such a way when others could overhear. 

He smiles. It’s a sad smile, all of his smiles were recently. You didn’t like it. It was only over the past week you’d realised how much his smiles got you through your days. He was depriving you. 

“If you don’t mind,” he answers. 

You replace your poker in the small stand beside the fireplace and pull yourself to your feet. He looks sunken, bare shoulders hunched over. Fix him, your heart instructs. 

“She’s very beautiful, apparently,” you say, taking small steps towards him. “That’s all anyone downstairs could talk about this morning. She’s known for it.” 

He frowns. “Do you think that matters to me? That it will make it better?” 

“I just think you should be open to the idea that you might come to love her, that you might be happy.” 

He stands suddenly, linen pants falling low on his hips. You saw him shirtless everyday, waking him in the morning, helping him change, it was a part of your job. Still, the way he’s looking at you now, chest bare and hair tousled from sleep….you unconsciously press your palm over your racing heart. He’s not for you, you beg it to understand. 

“Will you be happy?” he asks. 

You frown, confused. “What does this have to do with me?” 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he says, taking one step towards you. “You’ll be happy for me?” 

“I’m your servant.” 

He covers his face with his hands suddenly before turning away from you. You watch his shoulders rise and fall as he paces across the room and then turns. You stand across the room from each other, facing off. 

“If you weren’t working here. If… you were—” 

“Your equal?” you finish. 

“Would you consider us friends? In a world where we were allowed to be.” 

I’d tell you I love you. “I guess so.” 

“So in this hypothetical world, where we are friends… you’ll be happy if I marry her?” 

“When,” you correct. “When you marry her, I’ll be wishing you all the happiness in the world.” 

He moves towards you suddenly, closing the distance between you. When he’s a few steps from you he stops. His lips part and press together a few times, like he’s struggling to find the words he wants to say next. You wait. 

“I thought I’d prepared myself for this. I thought I’d talked myself through it, that I was ready to let—” he cuts himself off, running his fingers through his already messy hair. “I wasn’t meant to be this person, to be self-sacrificing and putting the good of the people above my own desires. I desire, I crave, and I’m selfish. I want to give in.” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say, you have to keep yourself from laughing. You couldn’t imagine there was a person on earth more suited to have all the power he would inherit. 

“You are not selfish. You are kind, and giving, and no one would be more suited to the role you’ve been given,” you say. He drops his arms to his side as you continue. “I’m happy. I’m happy now and I’ll be happy when you marry and I’ll be happy when you become King. I’ll be proud to have known you and happy that my life and everyone around me will be made better because of you.” 

He narrows the space between you a little more. “I am selfish, little dove,” he says, his hushed tone is too intimate. You take a step back. He follows. “I don’t want to do it without you.” 

“Will I be… let go?” you question, confused. “When you marry?” 

He shakes his head.

“Then I’ll be here. I don’t plan on leaving.” 

“I want you beside me.” 

“Beside… you?” 

He hums, fingers reaching out to play with the frills on your apron. You don’t understand where this conversation has led. You’d assumed he was gloomy because of the girl he loved, the secret courtship he’d mentioned a few weeks ago and the interference his arranged betrothal had caused. What did you have to do with any of this?

“Beside me, little dove. Doing it with me.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

His fingers trace the neckline of your apron, up to the straps over your shoulder. His eyes track his fingers, like there is something fascinating about the simple fabric that makes up your uniform. 

“Have I ever touched you?” he mumbles as his finger brushes the skin at your neck, where your dress ends. A shiver runs up your spine. You’re sure he must notice. “I haven’t,” he says. “I would remember.” 

You take a large step backwards, suddenly completely overwhelmed. “I have other duties. I should—I should go,” you say, curtseying quickly and escaping without looking back. 

—

You replay it in your head that night, everything he’d said, the feeling of his fingers on your skin. You can’t make sense of it; why he was suddenly touching you, speaking to you about desire, like he—

You sit up suddenly, your bedsheets pooling around your hips. He loved someone. You were sure that was why he was upset, and then he’d started making it about you, asking you strange questions and touching your skin. It couldn’t be you. It didn’t make sense. Your heart races as you throw your legs over the side of your bed. Sliding your feet into your slippers, you stand and reach for your small oil lamp. Your fingers shake as you light it and you freeze as you knock your hairbrush onto the hard floor, silently praying no one was still walking the halls. Silence. 

The path to his room is ingrained into your mind, you could make it there with your eyes closed tight. The guards outside his room don’t question you. They merely give you an odd look at your state of attire. You’d visited his room late previously, to stoke a fire in the dead of winter or deliver materials he might need when he was writing late. 

You freeze when the door closes gently behind you, suddenly completely unsure what you were doing. The revelation you’d thought you had seems ridiculous now, standing here in his room, the crown prince sleeping soundly in his bed. Why would he love you? You were nothing. You press your hand over your heart. He’s not for you. 

You turn just as his soft, sleep laden voice breaks the heavy silence. “Little dove?” he questions. “What’s wrong?” 

You turn slowly, grateful the darkness might shield some of your shame. “Nothing is wrong, your highness.” 

He huffs out a laugh, pulling himself up from the bed and swinging his legs over the side to stand. “Your highness?” he questions, amusement clear in his tone. He takes a few steps towards you before stopping suddenly, eyes dropping down your figure and then flicking back to your face. “What are you wearing?” 

“I—” 

“Has something happened?” he interrupts urgently.

You shake your head quickly. “I wanted to ask you about this morning.” 

He sighs, shoulders sagging as he switches from panic to dejection. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you, I was…. overwhelmed. This week has—” 

“I didn’t come here for an apology.” 

Interrupting the crown prince. You imagine your mother knowing. She’d likely drop dead from shock. 

“I owe you one anyway,” he says. 

“If you are going to start apologising for crossing boundaries, you have two years of talking to me like I’m not your servant to make up for.” 

“Oh, I’m not sorry for that,” he says quickly, straightening a little. 

“No, I didn’t think you were,” you murmur, smiling softly. Your kind prince. 

“What are you here for, then? If not an apology,” he says, taking a step towards you. 

You suck in a deep breath, preparing yourself. You were in his room in your nightgown. If you turned around and left now you’d toss and turn and get no sleep. Then tomorrow would be tortuous. You were exhausted enough on a normal day. That’s what you tell yourself. That’s how you force the question from your lips. 

“What did you mean by ‘beside you’? You’ll be moving to another wing of the castle when you marry. I assume you mean you want me to come with you and if that’s the case it’s already decided that your staff will—” you cut yourself off, distracted by the amused smirk on his face. “What?” 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well for heaven’s sake would you just say what you mean?!” you blurt out. 

He grins at your outburst. You’d officially shouted at the crown prince, at the man who would one day have absolute rule over you and everyone you knew. This was the danger of it all, of his treatment of you. You were too comfortable. 

“I think you know what I mean, little dove. You came to me in the middle of the night, in your nightdress, to ask me. I think if you truly had no idea, this could have waited until morning.” 

You want to hit him, to stomp across the room and beat against his chest. Could he not see he was hurting you? Dangling you on a string when you were so much less powerful than him, when he had all the power. It was for him to say. He had less to lose. 

“You said you were prepared to be hurt, for this person you love to hurt you,” you say after calming yourself a little.  

He frowns. “Yes.” 

“What about her? Have you considered how you may hurt her? If she’s prepared?” 

“Yes. It’s why I’ve tried my best to… resist her.” 

Speak plainly! you want to scream. Break me out of this foolish delusion. 

“What did you mean? Tell me what you meant. It’s cruel to play games with me, you know it is. I’m no one, I can’t afford to play games,” you plead. 

“No one?” he laughs, taking another small step towards you. Then he smiles, a lopsided smile that doesn’t prepare you at all for what he says next. “I want you to be my Queen.” 

He catches you by the wrist when you stagger back, taking the oil lamp from you before you can drop it. You were sure he’d have a reasonable explanation, anything but this. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t—

“Look at me,” he says, voice soothing and calm. Your eyes are fixed on where his fingers wrap around your wrist. “My love, look at me.” 

Your eyes snap to his. His face is lit by the soft glow of the lamp he holds, brown eyes wide with worry and… something else. My love, my love, my love, your heart chants. “Love?” you whisper.

He nods. “Don’t hurt me,” he whispers.

You suck in a deep breath, suddenly feeling starved of oxygen. “You can’t,” you blurt out, pulling your wrist from his grip and taking a step backwards. “It’s not right.” 

“I’ll make it right,” he says, taking your hand in his again. “I’ll refuse the marriage. They can’t force me down the aisle. We’ll wait until I’m King, until I can make any choice I like.” 

You pull your hand from his again, backing up until your back hits the door. He takes one step towards you and then stops, letting his arm drop to his side. “You don’t want me?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t matter what I—”

“It—” he interrupts. 

“Listen to me,” you demand. “Just listen.” 

He presses his lips together and nods reluctantly.

“I’m no one. You can argue with me about it for the rest of the night but it doesn’t change the fact that if anyone found out the way I spoke to you, the things you’ve just said to me, I’d be thrown out. I’d have nowhere to go and no way to make money and I’d be quickly, desperately hopeless. Everyone would know I’d been thrown out of the palace with no reference and I’d have to leave… somewhere far away. Do you understand?” 

“I wouldn’t—

“Do you understand what I just said?” you interrupt. “This is less for you… this means less. You have nothing to lose.” 

He closes the distance between you quickly and presses his hands to the wood either side of your head, caging you in. He’s quiet for a moment as he studies your face in the dim light, the oil lamp he’d placed on the small table beside the door the only illumination besides the fireplace.  “Nothing to lose?” he whispers. “I could lose you.” 

“I could lose everything.” 

“Same thing,” he says easily. 

“It’s not!” you shout as your eyes well with tears, shoving his chest until he’s forced to take a step away. “It’s not the same,” you repeat, lowering your voice. 

“You think I don’t know that? I know that. I know what this means for you, how dangerous it is. Why do you think I’ve kept away.” 

“Kept away?” you laugh. “I’m a servant, I’m your servant and you speak to me like I’m—” 

“Yeah, well… I’m not a saint,” he interrupts. “I told you, I’m selfish. I did the best I could.” 

When you say nothing in return he presses his hand to the wood again, the other lifting your chin to direct your eyes to his. “Tell me you love me, little dove,” he pleads, desperation leaking from his hushed tone. 

You sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly drained. “What good would it do?”

“For me? A world of it.” 

“Are you sure?” you whisper. “Are you sure it won’t…make it all worse.” 

“Please,” he whispers.

You sigh again. He’s quiet as you cup his cheek with your palm, as you brush your thumb across his soft skin. You wonder if he’d smell like your soap, if you were to lean forward and press your nose to the crook of his neck. “Of course I love you,” you confess. 

You can’t help matching the grin that spreads across his face, overwhelmed by the beauty of it. Then he’s pressing his lips to your forehead, a slow, drawn out kiss that he only pulls away from just when you think he might have attached himself to you permanently. 

The spell breaks as he pulls away, reality crashing down onto your shoulders. “Not that it matters,” you mutter, dropping your eyes to the floor.

Then he’s laughing and you find yourself spinning around, feet dangling against his legs. He spins you around, his laughter vibrating through your chest. When he sets you on your feet he’s practically breathless and you find yourself unwilling to say anything at all, not when his eyes are so full of joy and his cheeks pink from laughter. 

“Doesn’t matter?” he says, through the remnants of his laughter. “It changes everything, little dove. I didn’t realise… I didn’t realise how much until you said it. I’m going to keep you safe, I’m going to have you. I can.” 

You frown, wondering if maybe he’d bumped his head at some point. Perhaps when he was catching you as you’d stumbled? 

“It changes nothing,” you correct, stepping back out of his arms. “You will be getting married soon and I will stay your maidservant and that’s the way it was always going to be.” 

“Have a little faith in me, dove? Hm?” 

“I have faith in you. It’s everyone else, your parents, the court… you think they’ll let you back out of the arrangement they’ve agreed to?” you question. “You really think they’ll let you marry… me?” 

“I won’t give them a choice.” 

“It’s not up to you!” you cry, suddenly overwhelmed again. It’s all.. So much. So much. A tortuous sliver of hope in a world that had only ever been cruel to you. “Please—Please, just stop. It’s not—”

He steps towards you, taking each of your hands in his. “Give me a chance… give me a chance to try?” 

When you say nothing he drops to his knees at your feet. You swear your heart skips a beat. You look to the door, imagining anyone walking in and seeing the crown prince kneeling at the feet of a servant; of someone who he shouldn’t even acknowledge. 

“I have a chance… you’ve given me a chance at having everything I’ve ever wanted… I can taste it, I—” he pauses, pulling one of your palms to his lips and pressing a kiss to your skin. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear it. Let me try?” 

It’s silly, childish, it’s everything you thought you werent, but seeing him there—gazing up at you like he might actually… love you—it feels like your knees are knocked out from under you as you collapse to the floor with him.

“I’m scared,” you whisper. 

He tugs you forward into his arms, wrapping you up tightly. Your nightdress is thin enough that the warmth from his bare chest easily radiates through to your skin. You sigh, dropping your face to the crook of his neck. He smells like your soap.

“You’ve taken care of me for so long… every day… let me take care of you now, hm?”

You want to say yes, to give in to him. Your heart thumps hard in your chest, like it’s begging you to give in, banging his fists against your ribs and screaming ‘Let me out! Let me have him!’. It would be foolish to trust someone with so much power, especially when you had none. You should walk away now, ideally find employment somewhere far away from him, before you can be hurt. It’s too late, a small voice reminds you. You’ll be hurt either way now. 

“Do you promise?” 

He lifts your face from his neck, warm hands cradling your face. You feel exposed, even in the dim light of the room. When he says nothing and merely trails his eyes over your features, you’re not sure what he’s looking for. There’s nothing interesting or unique about your face. You’d always thought you were well suited to a job where you were supposed to blend in. 

“I’ve got you, little dove. I promise,” he whispers. He kisses your forehead again. “You should get some sleep,” he says before helping you to your feet. You expect him to drop your hand once you’re up, but he doesn’t. He stares down at where your hands join for a moment. It’s a comfortable silence. You were always comfortable with him, you realise. 

When he finally releases you, it’s with a whispered goodnight and one last press of his lips to your forehead. You find yourself making your way back through the palace to the servants' wing on autopilot. You’re completely spaced out, trying to process what has just happened, how your life has changed. When you crawl into bed, you find yourself shaking. You roll onto your back and close your eyes, concentrating on the rise and fall of your chest as you inhale and exhale. He… loves you. You’d never even let yourself consider the idea before tonight and now you had his whispered promises bouncing around your head. 

—

You’re pressed up to a wall the next morning, gathering yourself before you have to round the corner and enter his room to begin your morning routine. You had done the same thing almost every day for the past two years but never hours after he’d confessed… to loving you. 

He’s still sleeping when you creep into the room. Usually you’d pull the curtains aside without hesitation, waking him with the bright morning sunlight, but not today. You creep around the room, completing all of your tasks as quickly and quietly as possible. He mumbles at one point and you freeze, fearing for a moment he’s awake. But his mumbling is incoherent and when he falls silent again, he doesn’t move. It isn’t long until you’re forced to face the task you’d been avoiding: the curtains. He’ll wake when you open them, he always did. You consider the distance to the doors, how long it will take you to reach them if you run. You suck in a deep breath. Be brave. You pull them open. 

He stirs as you’re tying the first curtain aside. He mumbles something you don’t make out as you’re tying the second. 

“Good morning,” he says as you turn to face him. He’s grinning, hair messed and flopping over his forehead. The sunlight streaming into the room lights his face. It’s blinding. 

You head for the door. 

“You’re leaving?” he asks. You pause.

“I’ve finished in here.” 

He stands and makes his way towards you slowly. “Are you alright?” he questions. 

“I have lots of work today. Do you need anything else?” 

He frowns. “Have you changed your mind?” 

“Have you?” you ask in return.

He smiles, closing the distance between you. His fingers play with the frills on your uniform, a new habit. You know the second the words leave your lips it's a stupid question. He didn’t make decisions lightly, not important ones. He’d spent the last two years chatting to you like you were a close friend and not someone employed to lay his clothes out and make his baths. You knew how long he spent thinking things through, how sure he had to be about someone before he trusted them. You remember when he started talking to you about things you’re sure he wasn’t supposed to. It felt like a shift. You sensed he trusted you, even if you weren’t sure what you’d done to warrant it.

“Do you trust me, little dove?” he asks. 

You nod without hesitation. Whether it was foolish or not, you did trust him in return. A year into your time here you’d received news your brother had passed. You’d thought you could handle it, that working a normal day would take your mind off it. It had only taken him minutes to pick up on your mood. The second he’d questioned you, you’d broken into heavy sobs. He’d insisted you go to your family, that he’d cover for your absence. You’d thanked him meekly when you returned and he’d brushed it off, asking instead if there was anything else he could do. You trusted him. He was reliable and sure.

“I won’t change. I don’t make decisions until I know and I know this more than anything: I love you,” he says. 

“Is my soap that nice?” you offer in return, unused to simple compliments let alone declarations of love.

He huffs out a laugh. “Mm,” he hums. “I simply can’t live without it.” 

“You don’t have to wed me to get more soap.” 

“Yes, but you could leave at any time.” 

“Ah, so you have to entrap me into a marriage…” 

He nods, failing to keep his lopsided grin at bay. 

“For my soap,” you finish. 

“For your soap,” he agrees. 

—

You do your best to continue on as normal, to trust him to work on getting out of his betrothal. You were powerless and with everyday that passed (and with his increasing frustration) you were only evermore aware of that fact. 

Then he falls. You’re just sitting down to a late lunch in the servants hall when everyone is suddenly rushing around, panicked commands and chaos throwing the entire servants wing into disarray. A pile of fresh linen is shoved in your hands with a quick, “Take these to the prince’s rooms.” 

Your heart drops. 

“What’s happened?!” you shout at her turned back. 

“He’s injured,” she says impatiently. “Now will you go. Strip his bed. There may be blood.” 

You stagger back a step, suddenly dizzy. Then someone shoves you from behind and you’re running. You expect the worst, for him to be dying. It’s not right, it’s not right. You crash into a body as you round a corner, struggling to keep the linens from falling onto the floor. You imagine never waking him again, never seeing the way the rays of morning sun would light his skin and deep brown eyes. 

The room is full when you arrive, other servants scurrying around to light the fire and strip the bed of the expensive embroidered covers. You find yourself standing there, holding the pile of white linen in your arms, motionless. 

Then he arrives.

You find yourself backed up into the wall as a swarm of bodies move into the room. All you can make out of your prince is a limp hand, dangling off the side of the makeshift stretcher he’s lying upon. Someone snatches the linens from your arms. Your eyes don’t shift from that hand, watching until it’s out of your sight, swallowed by the swarm of bodies. 

“Go get more water!” someone shouts, and it’s only when a hand wraps around your arm that you realise they’re addressing you. “Water. Go.” 

You obey, stumbling from the room. 

—

You stare at the ceiling late that night. You hadn’t been allowed back in again. All you knew, all anyone knew, was that he was alive. You’ve talked yourself out of trying to see him over, and over, and over. Your uniform lays at the end of the bed from where you’d started dressing yourself and then undressing again. He’d be watched overnight; supervised. You couldn’t see him, not until morning. 

Only, you find after a sleepless night that you can’t see him at all. No one is allowed to enter his room apart from a select few staff. Your superiors, longer serving and more trusted. You go about your days attempting to gather as much information about his progressing condition as possible. It isn’t suspicious to be curious about the wellbeing of the heir. No one questions your persistent enquiries. He’d fallen from his horse, thrown off. You couldn’t picture it, him being hurt. Vulnerable was the last word you’d ever associate with him. He was always strong, self-assured, calm. Him being anything but strong and healthy was wrong, unnatural. 

You give in on the fourth night. The news had spread through the palace at lunch time that he was conscious; that he’d live. It’s too much to bear, to spend another night tossing and turning and having the last image of him in your mind be his limp muddy hand. So you dress as you prepare a speech for if he is still being supervised and you’re questioned. It’s risky to disobey clear orders. But you’d given into risk and danger the night he’d confessed. 

To your surprise, the guards let you through. They recognise you and clearly assume you have permission to be here. You smile politely as you pass, pushing his doors open. You’re prepared to face an interrogation by his supervisor. He’s alone. It’s a good sign. He’s improved enough that there’s no fear of him worsening through the night. You approach slowly, reminding yourself you don’t know the extent of his injuries, to be prepared. He looks like himself, his expression peaceful and face free from any scars or bruises. You sigh, pressing your hand over your chest. A sense of calm falls over you for the first time in days. You can replace the image of his limp hand in your mind with his peaceful face, unmarred by injury. 

You lean down to gently press your lips to his forehead. He doesn’t stir and you watch his chest rise and fall steadily for a minute or so before turning to leave. He was alive. You’d seen it. Now you can rest. 

Three days after that you’re instructed to continue on as normal, to wake him and prepare him for the day as you had for the past two years. It seems too soon. But you have no power, so you say nothing. You hesitate at the door, sucking in one final deep breath. 

You go for the curtains first this time, selfishly perhaps. You want to speak to him, to hear his voice, to have as much time with him as you can before you’re forced to continue on with your day. The first hum of his voice as he stirs is too much to resist. You rush to his bedside before you’ve finished tying the curtains aside. 

He blinks up at you, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. Then he smiles. It takes your breath away. 

“Good morning, little dove.” 

You throw yourself over him, pressing your face into his neck and breathing him in. His short breath of laughter tickles your skin. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles. 

“You were unconscious for half of it,” you point out, lifting yourself off him. “Are you feeling okay? I don’t know why they’re letting me back in so soon. You should rest.” 

He grins, tilting his head a little. Ah. 

“You talked them into this?” you question, already knowing the answer.

His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Like I said, I missed you.” 

“You’re not getting up.” 

“I’m not?” he asks, smiling up at you. 

“No.” 

“Are you ordering me around, little dove?”

“Yes.” 

“I like it.” 

—

He agrees to rest three more days and then he’s done. You know it the moment you enter. The curtains are drawn and he’s pacing by the fireplace. 

“There you are,” he says, marching towards you. You were no later than every other day. He takes your hands and pulls you towards the window seat, a long bench that fills the window alcove. “I’m leaving,” he announces once you’re both seated. “Today.” 

Be calm, you self instruct. He’s alive.

“Leaving?” 

He lifts your wrist to his mouth and brushes his lips lightly back and forth against your skin. 

“Father is sending me to Draemore. He says if I want to back out of the arrangement, I have to negotiate a deal myself.” 

The arrangement for his marriage. He was to marry Draemore’s princess, to unite the two powerful kingdoms. It was a long journey. 

“You can’t go anywhere, you’re hurt,” you insist, sensing a panic rising in your chest. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You—”

“Trust me,” he says. “Let me do this. Please?” 

“You can do what you like,” you say, attempting not to clench your jaw. Powerless. 

“Tell me it’s okay. That I can go.” 

A shameful part of you wants to tell him it isn’t okay. That you’re afraid he might be hurt again and leave you forever. An even more shameful part is even afraid he might meet Draemore’s princess and be tempted by her beauty. That he might realise she’s the better option, that you aren’t worth it. You aren’t ready to be parted from him. Each night you resist the temptation to visit him, to tell him you struggle to spend any time away from him at all.

“Is it… what you want?” you ask.

“I want to get out of this betrothal. I want to be free of it.” 

You fiddle with his fingers. You’d always thought he had beautiful hands. “How long will you be gone?” you murmur.

“I don’t know. As long as I need to be.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’ll be gone as long as I need to be so that when I come back I’m yours,” he says, voice soft and soothing. 

Mine, mine, mine, mine, your heart thrums. “I’ll miss you,” you whisper. 

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Mm? How much?” 

“Only a little.” 

“Ah, only a little…” 

“Don’t fall off another horse,” you mumble, adjusting his collar. “Please.” 

“Is that an order?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, no falling,” he says, smile containing a hint of sorrow. “Can I ask something of you in return?” 

“Is it more soap? Because you’ve got all I’ve made recently.” 

“No.” 

“Go on, then.” 

“Kiss me goodbye,” he whispers. 

You look to the door, reminding yourself that no one ever came in at this time of day besides you. It was always a risk, nonetheless. Everything you were doing with him was. 

He has a soft smile on his face as he waits for you to decide. His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist where your hand rests in his lap. If he does decide while away that you aren’t worth the hassle, that he can see something in her that he can come to love, you want to have this one moment to keep. To know that at one point he wanted to be yours. You know now that he could slip away at any moment, either because of a princess or an accident. 

You watch the corner of his mouth lift slightly as you lean forward. Then you’re brushing his lips with yours, barely touching, sharing his breath. His hand lifts to the back of your head and then you’re joined. Your heart leaps. Finally, it rejoices as you get your fill of him. Don’t forget, you beg. Remember this, remember having him. His lips move over yours like he’s doing the same, savouring you. 

You think about how his plush lips had felt on yours all day, up until you’re lined up with the rest of the staff to see him off. That’s the only moment that is more important, watching him climb into the carriage and disappear from your sight for the foreseeable future. You press your hand to your chest. 

—

The first time you find yourself standing in front of his bedroom doors, he’s only been gone a week. There’s no guards. They have no one to guard. Minho isn’t here. Still, here you are. 

You push the doors open and close them quietly behind you, not that there’s anyone around to hear. The room is dark, cold, and empty. Your small oil lamp is the only light and heat provided now that he’s gone. 

You look at the door one last time before placing the lamp on the small table beside his bed and crawling onto the mattress. It’s a world away from the thin mattress on your own bed. You sink into it, resisting the urge to pull the covers back and fully envelop yourself. 

It reminds of sneaking into your aunt and uncle's room with your brother while they were at the market. Of climbing into the bed with your dirty clothes and giggling as your brother bounced on the mattress at your feet. You’d spent some time with your cousins as a child, when your parents were struggling to feed you and your siblings. As the two oldest, you and your brother were sent away. You were just grateful to not be alone. 

—

You spend some time at his bookshelves on some nights, perusing his personal library. You pick a new one out each time and crawl back into his bed. The words weren’t his, but he’d chosen them, decided to keep them in his room. You scour the pages as if he’d written them himself. 

You save one book until last, he’d made you read it to him on one of the days he’d spent in bed. “Don’t stop,” he’d ordered. “Even if I fall asleep.”

He’d nearly died. He’d nearly left you and just as you’d been settled in the fact he was okay, he left you for real. 

—

Any news you hear of him or his return is passed through a chain of whispers so long the information is entirely unreliable by the time it reaches you. Still, you grasp onto the whispers, they are all you have. No one knows the purpose of his visit. The assumption you hear passed around is that he’s simply gone to visit his soon to be bride, to get to know her, to fall in love with her. 

“Perhaps he’ll be bringing her back,” someone comments from across the table as you shovel porridge into your mouth. 

“I doubt it. It’s a long journey to have to do twice. She’ll come for the wedding in a few months,” someone else chimes in. 

“What if he isn’t back until then? It’s been four months, what’s a few more?”

You stand abruptly, stool scraping along the floorboards. You feel a few eyes on you as you leave the room. Your appetite still hasn’t returned by supper. 

—

You stab your finger with your sewing needle as the door slams open. You stick your bleeding finger in your mouth as the only person here (aside from Minho) you consider a friend rushes into the room and slams her hands on your small desk. 

“He’s back,” she gasps, clearly out of breath. 

You pull your finger from your mouth with a pop. 

“What?” 

“They’re having a dinner for his return and no one is prepared. It’s chaos out there.” 

“He’s back?” you whisper. 

She nods. 

Chaos is an understatement. No one is prepared for his arrival. You’re one of many forced to help the cooks as they scramble to put together the celebratory meal. You narrowly miss cutting your fingers as you chop vegetables, distracted by the gossip surrounding you. No one knew if he’d arrived alone, if she was with him. 

You’re reminded again how powerless you are, how little you are, when you realise there is no way you’ll be allowed anywhere near him the rest of the day. He’ll be surrounded by the members of the court, by his family, and you’re no one. You aren’t even allowed to be in the dining hall when dinner is served, too low on the staff pecking order for it to be considered appropriate. At least you discover he’d returned alone. He hadn’t brought her. 

Late that night, when you’re finally released from cleaning, it’s the knowledge that he hadn’t returned with her that pushes you out of bed and towards his room. Whether he had failed in his mission to free himself from the arrangement hardly concerned you after months away from him. You needed to see him, hear his voice. 

You don’t hesitate as you pass the guards, doing nothing to disguise your eagerness as you burst through the doors. Minho stands at the end of his bed with a book in hand, clearly taken off guard by your dramatic entrance. 

It’s a protracted moment of silence that follows. You aren’t sure how long it lasts, too preoccupied with taking him in. After running your eyes over him for any obvious sign of injury, you do a more thorough inspection. His hair is longer, soft dark locks falling into his eyes as stares right back at you. You desperately want to brush it from his eyes, to run your fingers through it, to grasp a handful and hold him against you so he can’t leave you again. 

“You’re back,” you finally breathe, disturbing the heavy silence. 

“Ran out of soap.” 

You burst into tears. 

His warmth envelops you almost immediately as he wraps himself around you and tucks your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. He’s quiet as you collect yourself, basking in the feeling of his body against yours. You snake your hands up around his neck to thread your fingers into his hair, the long strands giving you plenty to grasp onto. He hums when you begin pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, trailing up to a small mole near his jaw. 

“You missed me then?” he asks.

He attempts to pull back from you slightly when you don’t reply but your desperate grip around his neck prevents him. It’s enough to pull a breathy laugh from his lips. 

“Don’t you want to know how I did?” he asks. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. 

“You don’t wanna know if I’m yours?” 

“You are. You’re mine. I don’t care what any of them say… you’re mine.” 

He lifts you off your feet and falls back onto his bed, pulling you down onto him. Your leg slots between his and your dress bunches up at your thighs. He huffs out a small laugh at the squeak that escapes you at the sudden fall. 

“Is that right?” he grins. 

You lift yourself onto your elbows to take him in properly. He blinks and shakes his head a little, attempting to dislodge some hair from his eye. You brush it away for him, tucking it behind his ear gently. 

“You’re mine, Minho.” 

The smile drops from his face, a few slow blinks following. “Say it again,” he whispers. 

“You’re mine.” 

“Say my name.” 

Ah. You suppose that’s the first time you’d ever addressed him by his name, the first time you’d ever spoken it aloud at all. You can’t help laughing a little at the idea of it, at anyone you worked with knowing you’d addressed him by his given name, while lying across his half naked form. Then you find yourself on your back, the heir to the throne hovering above you. 

“Say it,” he commands again. 

“Promise you won’t leave me again.” 

“Hm?” he hums.

“Just…. promise you won’t leave me alone again. Promise me.” 

“Did you miss me that much, little dove?” he asks, tone soft and gentle.

“Desperately.” 

His lips curve into a sad smile. “I won’t leave you again.” 

“Promise.” 

“God himself will have to drag me from you, I promise.” 

“No, not even that.” 

“Alright, not even that. I’ll die a natural death many, many years from now.” 

You nod, satisfied. “Can I stay with you?” you ask, feeling brave. His absence had unlocked something in you. Your fear of rejection seemed inconsequential compared to being parted from him. 

“Stay… here?” 

“I’ve… gotten used to your bed.” 

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Have you been slipping between my sheets while I’ve been away, little dove?” 

“I read most of your books, too.” 

“I like it, the idea of you making yourself at home in my space. Our little nest, hm?” 

“So I can stay?” 

“If you ask nicely.” 

You roll your eyes and reach up to tug at his earlobe. “Please, can I stay with you?” 

His nose scrunches. “Nicer.” 

Nicer than—Oh. 

“Please, Minho? Please can I sleep here with you?” 

He hums. “Anytime, my love,” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. You lift your head slightly, attempting to kiss him properly. He lets you have one taste, one taste of his upper lip and then he’s pulling you to your feet and detaching himself from you. It’s incredibly upsetting. Before you can announce your displeasure his fingers slip into the neckline of your uniform, barely ghosting over your skin. 

“Are you going to sleep in your uniform?” he whispers. 

“It’s clean. I—” 

“Doesn’t look comfortable.” 

“I’m okay,” you assure him. 

“Get in,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and nudging you gently towards the bed. You don’t hesitate, crawling up the huge mattress to settle under the covers. 

It’s not until you’ve pulled the heavy blankets up to your chin that you notice what he’s doing: stoking the fire. You sit up to watch, unable to resist watching him do something so simple and yet entirely new. He smiles a little when he turns to see you staring. 

“Warm enough?” he asks. 

You nod eagerly. “I’m used to no fire at all.” 

He frowns, halting where he’s climbing into the bed. “You don’t have a fire?” 

“Downstairs? We have fires. I just—I didn’t want to risk lighting yours… while you were away.” 

He crawls in beside you and you lower your head to the luxurious pillow to face him. 

“It’s been freezing for weeks,” he mutters, shuffling closer. “You really slept in here with no fire at all?” 

“You have lots of blankets.” 

He grumbles something under his breath and then he’s tugging you towards him. He’s quiet once you’re settled against him, breathing even. 

“These frills are scratchy,” he whines just when you think he’s fallen asleep. 

You huff out a small laugh as you pull away from him. “Fine, since you want me unclothed that badly.” 

“My intentions are pure. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“Your highness?” he huffs, offended. 

You grin at him as you untie your apron and carefully fold it. His eyes don’t leave you as you work at removing your dress as well. You’re forced to look away first. When your flowy chemise is the only thing remaining, you crawl back in, avoiding his gaze. He tugs you towards him again, warmth seeping quickly through the single layer of fabric separating you. 

“Better,” he hums. 

He’s quiet again for a while, but you are never fooled twice and you’re prepared when he speaks up again. “I negotiated a new arrangement. I had to correspond back and forth with my father to figure out the details. That’s why I… was away longer than I would have liked.” 

A new arrangement… one where he didn’t have to marry her?

“You’re… free?” 

“Mm, little dove. I’m yours.” 

You cling to him, wrapping your leg around his hip. “I want to be yours, too.” 

“Hm? Who says you aren’t?” 

“I’m no one,” you mumble. 

“Says who?” 

“Everyone except you. I’m invisible.” 

“Well I say you’re everything,” he says softly. “I say you’re mine. Whose opinion matters more to you?” 

“Yours,” you whisper. 

“Mm, good girl,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Get some sleep.” 

“Minho?” you whisper after a moment of silence. 

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask something of you?” 

“If you’re going to say my name like that, anything.” 

“Goodnight kiss?” 

“That’s a big ask,” he says, clearly teasing. “Do I get something in return?” 

“What do you want?” 

“One tomorrow night.” 

“Then I get one the night after that.” 

“Then I—” 

You cut him off with your lips. 

—

You wake before him, used to a much earlier start. You can’t resist watching him for a while, taking in his longer hair and parted lips. 

Then you get dressed, pulling your uniform on and tying yourself into it like you do any other morning. The guards should have changed shifts only a half hour ago, hopefully enough time to assume you’d simply started on your duties early—rather than… spent the night with your limbs wrapped around the crown prince. It was ridiculous to be paranoid at all, you tell yourself. You’re invisible. 

When you return an hour later, Minho is still asleep. He’s rolled over, spread out across your side of the bed, like he’d been reaching out for you in his sleep. Your heart jumps a little at the idea of it. 

He’s ready for you when you return that night, perched in bed with a book he wants to read with you. It’s a new one. You hadn’t found it on his shelves. 

The night after that he kisses your neck, rolling over you and slipping your chemise off your shoulder a little to give him more skin to work with. It leaves you breathless. 

A week later you wake to him pressed up against you, hardness grinding into you as he mumbles in his sleep. You kiss him awake, playing with his ear and asking him if he’d been dreaming. He pulls you into his chest, hiding his face from you. 

Two nighters after that, he watches you prepare his bath. He’s been quiet all day, mind somewhere far away. You’d hoped he’d open up, trust you enough to share whatever was bothering him. He’d offered nothing. 

“It’s ready,” you announce, placing a new bar of soap from your newest batch on the small stool beside the tub. 

He says nothing, unmoving from his perch at the side of his mattress. 

“Do you need help with your cuffs?” 

He looks up at you, brows furrowed. “You should have it,” he says.

“The bath? Are you saying I smell?” 

He laughs, the first laugh you’d seen from him today. “I just want you to have it. You’re always putting so much care into it, I—I don’t imagine you take as much care when you’re preparing your own.” 

“Not usually, no.” 

“I'll make sure no one disturbs you,” he says as he stands. 

“I—” 

“I’m not using it. Don’t let it go to waste,” he says, marching for the door and leaving you there, dumbstruck. 

It’s the nicest bath you’ve had in your life. You can’t remember the last time you’d bothered to heat the water, let alone soak for an entire hour. 

When he wraps himself around you later that night, you whisper a thank you into his neck. “Don’t thank me, little dove. I’ve done nothing.” 

—

“Remember when I said I was selfish?” he murmurs in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. 

“Mm,” you hum, only partially listening. 

“I’m greedy too, and impatient, and—”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I want you, little dove. I want you so badly.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“I want to taste you, I want to feel you, I want to bury myself inside you and hear my name on your lips.” 

“I-I want that too.” 

He groans. “Don’t… don’t say that. It’s not—” 

“Right?” you finish. “According to everyone else, we’re not right at all..” 

“I shouldn’t be letting you sleep here, I should wait. You deserve—” 

He was royalty, tradition and formality was baked into his blood. He believed in virtue and consummation on the night of a wedding and everything proper. 

“You think I care about any of that nonsense?” 

“But I do. The fact we’ve been sharing a bed together before—”

“We’re married?” you grin. 

When he doesn’t return your smile, you know he’s serious.

“We can wait,” you soothe, playing with the hair that hangs down between you. “If it’s what you want.” 

“I want to strip you bare and bury myself inside you.” 

“Alright,” you grin. “If that’s what you want.” 

He rolls off you with a groan before grumbling a goodnight, keeping his distance until he falls asleep. He reaches towards you a little while later, mumbling something incomprehensible into your hair as he drapes himself over you.  

—

“I was wondering… if maybe I could bathe in here again?” you ask from the end of his bed. 

You suppose it’s cruel to tease him. But it’s fun. You haven’t had much time for fun in your life, nor opportunity for it. It makes you feel powerful, seeing the way he clenches his jaw and drops his eyes down your legs each time you step out of your dress. You weren’t used to power either. 

“It’s… late. You want to… now?” 

“Please?” 

“I—Yeah, if that’s what you’d like.” 

“I’d like it.” 

He throws the covers back. “I’ll be in the library if—” 

“You can stay,” you interrupt.  

He stumbles over nothing and whips his head over to you. It’s so comical you can’t hold back the tiny huff of laughter that escapes your lips. 

His eyes darken at the sound. “Are you teasing me, little dove?” 

“I’d like you to stay.” 

A switch back to timidity. “You want me to… stay as you…”

“Bathe, yes.” 

He sits at the edge of the mattress as you prepare the bath, standing only to take full buckets of water from you when you enter the room. He’d taken to doing things like that, take up some of the tasks that fell under your job description. You’d even found the bed made up one morning. You’d had to redo it, it was a sincere effort, but not quite up to standard. He’d noticed of course and the next morning he’d asked if you could teach him to do it properly. 

He blinks at you from the side of his bed as you walk towards him. Then he holds his hand up, palm facing you. The universal symbol for stop. You do. 

“I can’t—I—”

“You don’t have to touch me,” you whisper. “Is it wrong if you don’t touch me?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s also wrong to want to marry me though, isn’t it? You’re ignoring that rule.” 

He’s quiet as you undress… apron… dress… stockings… His eyes fix on the piece of ribbon tied together at your chemise’s neckline. It’s the only thing keeping the fabric from slipping off your shoulders and falling to your ankles, leaving you entirely bare. 

“No touching?” he whispers. 

“No touching.” 

His hand drops to his lap. You tug the ribbon free, keeping your eyes on him as the fabric slips off one of your shoulders. This was as much as he’d seen up until now, as much as he’d dared to explore when he presses kisses down your neck at night. 

You shrug the other shoulder off, then let the flimsy fabric drop down to your ankles. It should be scary, being this vulnerable, completely bare. His eyes rake over you. It’s the way he looks at you, like he was starved and you were something he desperately craved. How could you possibly be afraid when he looked at you like that?

When you move closer, he leans slightly back, like you’re a threat. “Are you okay?” you whisper as you reach him. 

He doesn’t look up from your breasts and when he speaks, his warm breath ghosts over your nipples. “No touching,” he breathes. 

“Good boy,” you whisper.

You’re tempted to close the distance, to feel the brush of his plush lips against you. You resist. He stands as you take a few steps away from him, following you as if there’s an invisible line of string attaching him to you. Power. 

When you nudge the small stool by the side of the tub with your calf, the sound of the wood bumping against the tub snaps him from his haze. He pauses, hands limp at his sides as you climb over the side and into the warm water. It’s heaven, the tub curving perfectly around your spine and neck, offering a relaxing headrest. You drop your head back and close your eyes, aware of the silent prince watching from the sidelines. 

“The stool might be more comfortable,” you mutter after a moment of silence. “Unless you prefer to stand.” 

You blink your eyes open when he doesn’t answer to find him still standing, looking completely lost. 

“Minho?” 

He blinks slowly, then tugs his eyes up to yours. 

“You can sit on the stool,” you repeat. 

He nods slightly then clumsily positions himself on the small wooden stool at the side of the tub. Clumsy wasn’t a word you’d found yourself associating with him. He was poised, talented with a sword. He’d dance around his opponent like it was no effort at all. He was in control, always, even of his own body. 

“Could you pass me the soap?” you ask after a moment. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, reaching for the soap without pulling his eyes from you. He passes it to you absentmindedly, like his fulfilment of your request was entirely subconscious. 

“Says who?” 

He smiles, catching on quickly. He was quick, your prince. Witty and smart and kind. 

“Everyone except you.” 

“And whose opinion matters more?” 

“Yours, my love.” 

“Good boy.” 

He grins. 

He looks forlorn as you slip back into your chemise when you’re done. You can’t help laughing a little at his sad eyes and pouty bottom lip. He suggests you take another bath the following night. 

—

Your encounters with the rest of the royal family were few and far between. You were assigned to the prince’s wing, that was where you spent most of your days. So when you’re summoned to the Queen’s rooms, your heart drops into your stomach. You’ve been found out, it screams. They’ll take him from you. Or more accurately, take you from him. It’s all that races through your mind as you climb the stairs with shaky legs. You wonder if you’ll even get a chance to say goodbye, to tell him you don’t regret it. That the only thing you regret is not having him completely, just once. 

She doesn’t look up as you enter, preoccupied with something on her dresser. You stand patiently, attempting to calm your breathing. 

When she eventually stands and turns to face you, a tiny sliver of hope creeps its way into your chest at her lack of apparent anger. She doesn’t look like she’s about to scream at you to leave the palace and never return for threat of imprisonment. Her eyes trail up and down your form, inspecting you. She knows. 

“I want my son to be happy,” she says finally. “I want it more than anything else. You will understand that feeling one day, I’m sure.” 

You’re quiet, waiting for permission to speak. She doesn’t give it. 

“He has been distracted for a long while,” she continues, taking a few slow steps towards you. “It became evident to me why, when he expressed how displeased he was at his betrothal. He was in love.”

She closes the distance between you and lifts her hand to adjust the apron strap over your shoulder. It feels entirely different to the way Minho does it.

“I want my son to be happy but I also want him to be a good King, a glorious King. A king who puts his people above his own wants and desires. I’m sure you understand.” 

You understood, you understood completely. You were his ‘wants and desires’ and clearly he was putting you above what was best for everyone else. Remove yourself, she was saying. 

“Do you think he will make a good King, child?” 

“Yes, your grace. I—I know he will.” 

“I do not blame you for loving him, he is easy to love. But you cannot encourage him any longer. You have intelligent eyes, I’ve learned over these many years to understand people very soon after I make their acquaintance. You are not foolish. My son would not love a fool. You must know it’s unreasonable to expect him to make you Queen.” 

“I—”

“I imagine he’ll be just as happy to have you by his side as his concubine.”

“His… concubine?” 

“It is not unheard of for concubines to come from common families, my dear. I hope you… can understand my position. I do not consider myself a cruel or unreasonable woman. I want my son to be happy and the kingdom to thrive. This is for the good of all, you understand.” 

“I—I understand.” 

“Good. As long as you remain discreet, and you make him understand the importance of him marrying for the good of the kingdom, then we shall put this behind us.” 

“Me?” 

“You must make him understand. I’m afraid, my dear, you have found yourself in a position of great influence over him.” 

“I… can’t make him do anything.” 

“Are you sure of that?” 

—

You hardly sleep that night, shaken from your encounter with Minho’s mother—the Queen—and unused to sleeping alone. It makes the next morning even harder as you trudge up the many stairs and hallways to his room. You’re not prepared, but you have no choice. This is your role. 

You’re not surprised when you find him pacing, curtains drawn and bed made. If you weren’t so consumed with anxiety you’d find it amusing, how you had the crown prince trained. 

He marches towards you, placing each hand on your shoulder and running his eyes over you. “Has something happened?” he questions, panic evident in his voice. “You didn’t come. Are you ill?” 

“I’m well,” you answer simply. 

He drops his arms and takes a small step back. “You didn’t come.” 

“Must I sleep here every night?” 

He frowns. “I—I suppose not. I just thought—” 

“The Queen summoned me to her rooms.” 

“What?” 

“She knows.” 

Panic flickers across his face before he can mask it. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Minho.” 

“They won’t take you from me,” he continues. “It’s not—”

“She wants me to convince you to make me your concubine, when you become King. To convince you to choose a Queen who is… right for the kingdom.” 

“I have. You are right.” 

“Be serious.” 

“I’ve never been more serious. I’m not making you—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath and drawing his hands down his face. “I will not demean you by giving you a position in my life less than anyone else. You’ll be my Queen, you’ll be beside me and below no one. That’s it.” 

“She knows, Minho. If you…refuse. I think she’ll take it into her own hands.” 

“She won’t take you from me. I’ll make it clear I’ll never forgive her if she tries.” 

You sigh, tempted to drop to the floor where you stand. You’ve been in denial, blissful denial, and so—clearly—was he. He steps into you, lifting your chin with his fingers. 

“I will have you, little dove. I’ve decided. I decided long ago,” he says, brown eyes swirling with emotion. “Have faith in me. That’s all you have to do.” 

You offer him a sad smile and a small nod. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms so tightly around you, you almost can’t breathe. You bask in it. 

“Come to me tonight. Please,” he pleads. “Tell me you’ll come.” 

“Okay.” 

—

He’s quieter than usual in the following days, offering little conversation and simply wrapping himself around you when you come to him at night. It hurts, seeing him anything but full of joy. You have no power, you’re reminded yet again. You want to have power over everyone and everything that dares to make him feel anything but joy. 

Then he’s angry, you feel it the minute you enter his room. He’s hunched over his desk and doesn’t look up at you when you enter. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t even grumble, he just radiates anger. It’s not directed at you, you know that. He drapes his leg over you and presses his lips to your neck when he finally crawls into bed with you. 

When his mood still hasn’t lifted the following night, you’ve had enough. You roll over him, pressing his hands into the bed beside his head. “Tell me,” you command. “Tell me what’s bothering you. I want to help you.” 

“You help me every night.” 

“I want to be more than a warm body. You’ve… stopped telling me things.” 

“Let me handle it. You don’t need to be upset by them.” 

“Beside you, you told me you wanted me beside you, not behind you.” 

His lips curve into a small smile. “Will you release me first? Please?” 

You lift your weight from his hands, letting him stroke the hair from your face. 

“She’s threatening to tell my father. He… won’t be as agreeable as my mother was. I don’t know what he’ll do if—” 

“She wants you to agree to another marriage?” 

“She wants me to promise I’ll consider someone else, that I’ll consider making you—” 

“Agree to it, then,” you interrupt. 

“What?” he frowns, hand dropping from where he’d been idly playing with your hair. 

“Tell her you won’t marry until you’re King, that you’ll consider making me a concubine but you won’t marry anyone else until then.” 

He frowns. “It would be a lie.” 

“She wants you to be happy, Minho. She loves you and if she can see hope for having what she believes to be best for you, she’ll take it.” 

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles, pulling you into his chest again. 

You trace over his chest with your finger, something you often did when lying in his arms this way. You want him stress free. He doesn’t react at first when you snake you arm up over his hip to fiddle with the waistband of his linen pants. It’s not until your fingers slip beneath the fabric that he jolts, practically jumping away from you. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers. 

“I want to feel you.” 

“We can’t.” 

“You don’t want to?” 

“You know that’s not why.” 

“Let me feel you, Minho. Please? It’s just touching, it’s not—” 

He lips are on yours before you finish. He tugs you over him, slipping his hand up from your waist to hold the back of your head as he takes his fill of you. You imagine pulling your chemise over your head, feeling his skin against yours properly for the first time. Just the thought of it pulls a small noise from your throat. He hums into your mouth, fingers tightening their desperate grip in your hair.

It’s all the encouragement you need to slip your hand down between you and into his pants. He gasps into your mouth as you wrap your fingers around him, smooth, and warm, and only for you. 

“Is that nice?” you whisper against his lips. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, plush lips brushing yours as he takes deep uneven breaths. 

There’s no going back, you realise. Now you’ve seen the way his pretty features transform with pleasure. The way you touch him is not based on knowledge or experience, you’re guided by his reactions. The way his hips jump off the mattress or the small noises he releases into your mouth. 

Then he’s over you, consuming you, hips rolling into your thigh. “Just touching,” he gasps as he tears and claws at your chemise, practically ripping it off your shoulders. He pauses his frantic exploration when your nipples are freed, that same trance falling over him from the first time you’d bathed in his presence. 

His hand hovers over your breasts as you watch the way his lips press together and part again, wet from kisses. “Just touching,” he breathes again, still hovering. You reach up to take his hand, pressing lightly until his warm palm cups you. His thumb moves back and forth instantly, brushing over your nipple as he squeezes a little. Then he sits back, readjusting himself over you so he can do the same with the other. 

You lie there under him, chemise pulled down under your breasts as he palms them, eyes glazed and lips parted. The way he looks at you has always made up for the way others don’t. When you aren’t with him you are nothing, unseen and unimportant. But your prince? He sees you when you speak and he sees you when you don’t, he sees you and he looks at you like no one more important has ever lived. 

“More,” you whisper. “Touch me more.” 

His eyes flick up to yours and at first you think he might be about to cry. They’re almost watery and so full of emotion, it takes your breath away. 

He leans forward, lips brushing over yours and then pressing firm. It’s almost punishing before he melts, leaving messy, lazy kisses across your mouth. 

When he begins kissing a trail from your lips down to your neck you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him to you. His ear is perfectly positioned at your mouth. You can’t resist tugging his earlobe between your teeth. “Touch me, Minho,” you whisper into his ear. 

“Shouldn’t,” he mumbles into your neck. 

You entangle your fingers in his hair and tug his face from your shoulder, forcing him to look at you. 

“You’re going to marry me?” 

“Yes,” he answers simply. 

“I trust you,” you whisper. “I want you to touch me. I’m yours now. I’m yours—” 

He kisses the words from your lips, desperate and consuming. It’s been months, months of tangling your limbs around each other and being pinned beneath him when you roll your hips one too many times against him. He’d bite into your shoulder, a gentle reprimand for teasing, for seeking more when he thought he couldn’t. It’s been months of desperately wishing he’d venture below your neckline, or up your thighs. 

He leaves open mouthed kisses down your neck, laving his tongue across your skin until he reaches your breasts. You throw your head back as he tears at the fabric still covering your lower half, like after months and months of restraint he can’t bear to wait another second. He tugs it down your legs and tosses it aside before covering you again, pressing his bare torso down over you. Skin to skin, finally. 

He’s warm… and heavy… and safe… and yours. You inhale deeply as he drops his face to your neck again, the smell of your handmade soap seeping out of him. It felt a little like a mark, like leaving a trace of you on him he could carry around with him throughout the day. Mine, it said. Mine. 

“Just touching,” he mumbles into your neck again, like he’s attempting to remind himself of his own rule. 

You tug at his hair, forcing him up onto his elbows. It gives you the space you need to reach down between your bodies and tug a little at his waistband. He squeezes his eyes shut again. 

“Just touching,” you breathe. 

His eyes flutter open. He blinks down at you for a moment, then you see it, the decision being formed. His jaw clenches and he leans down, tugging his linen pants down his legs. You tug him back down before he finishes, desperate to feel all of him against you. He fits against you perfectly, one of his thick thighs slotting between your legs. 

You can also feel him pressing against your lower stomach, hard and warm and leaking a little wetness onto your skin. You wonder for a moment if anyone else has had him like this, pressed up against them, skin to skin. He hasn’t mentioned anyone else, never showed interest. 

“So soft,” he mutters against your temple, wet lips brushing your skin. “My love, my heart, my little do—” 

“Yours,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders like he can’t possibly ever be close enough. Inside, inside, you want him inside you, as close as it’s conceivable to be. There’s an emptiness inside you, one that throbs between your legs, one that begs to be filled. 

You’re completely pinned beneath him, unable to lift your hips even a little despite your desperation. You find yourself whimpering instead. 

“What is it, hm? Need me to touch you?” 

He lifts off you a little so he can move down your body and press kisses between your breasts, slow and soft, so soft they almost tickle. 

“Say my name.” 

“Mi-Min—” 

He latches onto your breast, sucking the soft skin into his mouth. You tangle your fingers into his hair as he works, a slow methodical marking across your chest that only relents when he spends a few minutes at each nipple. His tongue flicks out across each one, leaving them wet.  

“You can’t take these from me now, little dove. I’ve tasted you.” 

“Won’t,” you gasp. “Yours.” 

Then he’s wrapping his lips around one and sucking hard, tongue lapping over it once he frees you, like he’s trying to apologise, to soothe you. But then he does the same to the other, roughly sucking your nipple into his mouth and trapping you in a state of bliss. 

You can feel him against your thigh, heavy and thick. He finally detaches from you with a groan when you roll a little against him. 

He lifts off you. Your heart leaps at the loss. 

But then he’s between your legs. You rise onto your elbows to watch him. He keeps his eyes closed as he kisses the inside of your thighs, trailing his way towards your centre. Hurry, you want to whine. Kick your legs and beg him to go faster like an insolent child. 

He doesn’t. 

He takes his time, practically worshipping the soft skin between your legs so leisurely you start to doubt he ever intends to stop. 

“Minho,” you gasp eventually. 

He looks up from between your legs, hair flopping down into his eyes. You snake your hand down your stomach, fingers slipping down to your folds. “Here,” you breathe. 

He blinks slowly, then you watch as his eyes fall to where you want him most. He mutters something under his breath, something you can’t make out. Then he lifts his finger and lightly traces it down to your opening, collecting your wetness as he goes. You watch him part his lips as he presses slightly, not enough to enter, just a slight pressure, like he’s testing you. Then he pulls away and presses his finger between his lips up to his knuckle, sucking you from his skin. 

He crawls up your body and hovers over you, mouth hovering over yours so closely they brush you when he speaks. “Sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’ve been starved of you all my life.” 

You can’t help laughing as he kisses you, struggling to return the way his lips caress yours. 

“Are you laughing at me, little dove?” he says, amusement clear in his tone. He lifts himself off you a little, giving you a clear view of his smile. 

“I want you inside me.”

His smile drops. 

You watch as he gets shy, as he avoids your eyes. This was one of your favourite things about him, his gentle core, the way he could be in line to be the most powerful person in the kingdom and still get shy. The first time you’d seen his ears tinge red you’d only been working here a little over two months. He’d been quietly reading when you’d snagged your stocking on a loose nail in the floorboards. The tearing had been audible. His eyes had dropped down your legs, to the skin that was now newly bare. 

“Are you… alright?” he’d asked. 

“Just some ruined stockings,” you’d shyly smiled back, still unused to a member of the royal family paying any attention to you at all. 

You flicked your eyes over to him once he’d settled back down with his book, noticing the way the tips of his ears had clearly darkened to a pretty red. It was a reaction you’d become familiar with over the next two years. 

“Are you getting shy on me, my love?” you whisper now, cupping his cheek with your hand and drawing his attention back to you. 

“We can’t—” 

“I have five younger siblings. I know the risks.” 

“I can’t be… inside you until we’re—I won’t risk you—” 

“Just a little… please. I need you,” you plead, lifting your head a little to taste his swollen lips. “I’m so empty.” 

His brow furrows as he hums into your mouth, almost a pained sound. Then he’s moving back down your body to trace his fingers through your folds again. “Empty,” he mutters. His finger presses into you, a gradual, almost hesitant, exploration into your tight heat. It’s enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut, having him inside you even in this way. “So hot…” he mutters, breath brushing over you. “You’re so warm here…” 

“You’re warm,” you mutter. 

He pulls out of you, lifting his head to look up at you. 

“What was that?” 

“You’re warm,” you repeat a little clearer, stronger. “You’re so warm.” 

“Am I?” he asks, a little amusement leaking into his tone. 

“Mm, warm and kind and—” 

“Have you gone and fallen in love with me, little dove? You sound hopelessly in love.” 

“Love? That sounds horribly embarrassing.” 

“Horribly,” he agrees, crawling up to cover you with his body again. “It makes me want to do foolish things.” 

“Wha—” 

You’re interrupted by the feeling of his heavy cock slipping through your thighs and through your folds. 

“Like this, little dove. I want to be foolish, I want to feel your heat around me. Tell me not to, tell me—” 

“Please,” you whine, rolling your hips against him. 

He lifts off you before you can grab at him, hands reaching out at his retreating form. Then he’s grasping at your thighs, tugging you down the bed a little and settling himself between your legs. He drapes your thighs over his, using them to spread you open for him. “Not inside,” he says, more to himself than anything. 

Then he lays his heavy cock over your cunt. It’s too much, too close. You plant your feet on the bed so you can lift your hips to milk any friction you can. 

One of his hands grips your thigh, the other wraps around his cock, guiding it through your folds as you roll your hips. You’re whimpering at this point, desperate little sounds that do more than any words to convey your craving. You keep your eyes open as much as you can, entranced by the way he gazes down at your core. 

“Can’t be inside,” he mutters, reminding himself. 

The way you roll your hips makes it dangerous, twisting and writhing against the head of his cock. It nudges at your entrance occasionally, but then he takes control, readjusting himself before you can fuck down onto him. 

“Minho,” you whimper. “Minho, please. So empty…” you practically sob. 

His eyes flick up to yours. You plead with your eyes, one small tear leaking out and rolling down your cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Just a little,” you beg. “I’m warm, I promise, I’m so warm for you.” 

With his eyes fixed between your legs again, you rub your hungry cunt against him, languorous rolls of your hips. This time, when he nudges your entrance, he doesn’t pull back. There’s a slight nudge of resistance, and then his tip is inside you, warm walls gripping him. You freeze, watching your gentle prince pant as his brows draw together. 

“Gonna have you,” he mutters breathlessly. “Gonna keep you… beside me… have you like this every night. I will.” 

You nod, even knowing he can’t see you, eyes still squeezed shut. He pulls back a little as they flutter open. Then he moves forward, drooling cockhead pressing back into you before you can beg him not to stop. He fucks you like this, just pressing the fat tip into you again and again. It's a risk, you both know it. He knows it well. He was always so responsible, thinking everything he did through and weighing the pros and cons. You’ve corrupted him. If he didn’t feel so delicious pressing into you right now, you might work up a little guilt about it. 

Your cunt throbs at the feeling of him pressing into you and retreating, pushing and retreating. You clench down over him when he pushes inside, a small part of you hoping he’ll be tempted to venture further. You’d be so full, so close to him. He’d stretch you so perfectly, you know it. He’d make pretty noises and you’d bask in this one small way you could give. Power to give him joy.

Then he gasps your name and falls over you, lips attaching to your neck. He grinds against you, cock throbbing against your sensitive cunt. You’re leaking wetness onto the sheets now. You can feel it on your thighs. “I’ll have you properly,” he mumbles into your skin. “I’ll—” 

He cuts himself off with a low groan, reaching down to tug his cock from between your legs and up your body. He rolls against your stomach, one, two, three, four times, then he’s releasing—warm cum spilling over you. He continues grinding into you, only falling limp after one final whimper. 

It clicks in your head as you bask in the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, of his heavy breath against your neck. If someone tried to take him from you, you’d fight them with your bare hands. You were no one, but he was everything, and he was yours. 

please don’t forget to leave feedback, it took me lots of time and effort and hearing your thoughts is what makes me want to write more. thank you.