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min-youngis · 2 years

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Say My Name - j.jh

Jeong Jaehyun x Reader

Fluff, Suggestive, Angst, Humour; NC-17; 12.1k words

Bodyguard x Princess, Royalty AU

Swearing, Alcohol Mention, Implied Spicy Times, Anxiety Mentions, Medium-to-Fast Burn, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Jealousy Jealousy, Sword Fighting as Foreplay

Four years at sea have trained you to survive on close to nothing, to plant your feet firmly on the deck of a ship without stumbling, to navigate a vessel through the eye of an earth-shattering storm. The eighteen years before that had taught you how to be an able princess, the darling of the kingdom, to observe without being observed, and to wheedle answers from people who did not wish to part with them. Now, with your ascension to the throne nearing, you’re learning the art of statecraft and diplomacy, war room tactics and dirty compromises with smaller rulers. But there are no lessons for what to do when your lifelong bodyguard starts looking a little too interesting.

A/N: surprise bitches, bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. pulled these titles out of my ass. cried a bit at jaehyun’s lil speech at the end.

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masterlist in my description.

If the fly doesn’t shut up soon, you’re going to scream.

“And you, your Highness? What do you think?”

You abruptly school your expression into one of neutrality. The fly is probably glad to be rid of your glare, anyway. “About?” you venture, trying not to inflect too much cluelessness into your voice. The exasperated look from your father isn’t very promising.

The General, more than used to your wandering attention, makes no outward expression of annoyance at having to repeat himself. “About the campaign. Do you see anything untoward in the agreement?”

At the slight dip of his head, you become cognizant of the rough parchment on the table in front of you. Hurriedly, you take it in your hands and begin to speed read, keenly aware of the eyes of the rest of the state diplomatic heads on you.

“Looks fine,” you acquiesce, not giving it too much of a thought. The war room is in the worst ventilated quarter of the castle, and you can feel the fabric of your inners sticking to the skin of your back with sweat. The fly won’t shut up. You want to get out.

Every day has been like this for the last week, since you returned from your travels. You were given a day to recover from the four years away, to regain your land legs and get reacquainted with the King and Queen, before you were put to work. That had been the agreement. Four years outside the kingdom, to explore and travel and sail to any port in the world with your crew, to experience freedom, before being cloistered back inside the castle you had grown up in to begin your training as the heir to the throne. The sudden adjustment had been difficult enough, dealing with the rigid palace timings and having to follow all the rules again after spending years with only the sea and your own thirst for adventure to guide you, but what had made it all even more unbearable was the incessant meetings with the war council and the diplomatic advisors about state policy. Your father had thought it was important for you to be present for these, to get a feel for what your future would look like. At the moment, it doesn’t feel very fun.

Thankfully, it only takes a few minutes to wrap up the meeting once all the council heads have given their revisions and approval. Slowly, the others filter out of the room, leaving behind you and your father. You make your way to walk out as well, standing up with a nod at the King, when he stops you.

“You know what I’m going to say,” your father states.

The single open window lets in a stream of sunlight that illuminates the greys in his hair, the wrinkles on his face. But his appearance belies a strength that you had grown up in awe of. There’s steel in his eyes, spine ramrod straight in his high-back chair. Impressive, but you wish there was a little less steel to be seen right about now.

You do know what he’s going to say. How are you going to govern the country when you’re the ruler? Why don’t you pay attention in the meetings? How will the council respect you if you spend your time here zoning out?

“Then don’t say it,” you shrug.

He sighs, shoulders dropping just a little bit. It makes you feel just that little bit bad. “Did you listen at all?”

“The agreement is completely unfair,” you declare, sitting back down on your seat opposite him.

“That’s the point, Y/N. There’s always a loser in any compromise.”

“You’re cutting off their trade route to push them to depend on us. That isn’t compromise, that’s cruelty.”

He sternly replies, “We’re building a dam.”

“You’re building an excuse,” you spit out. “You’re shutting off a country half our size from the mainland, forcing them to rely on us for trade, and then you’re going to impose a completely unreasonable tax on them.”

“If they have a problem with it, they’ll get back with an agreeable alternative.”

“They won’t risk angering us, and you know it.”

Silence. Unconsciously, you’ve moved forward in your frustration, and you lean back in your seat, stewing. Your father stares right back at you, equally defiant.

“Why didn’t you mention all this at the meeting?” he asks.

“Your General is a…difficult man to talk to.” A sneer accompanies your words.

“Our General is the reason we have one of the biggest armies in the world.”

“And the most enemies.”

The King only sighs in reply.

Giving up early today, you think.

On receiving no further response, and recognising that you’ve both reached the stalemate that you end up in nearly every day, you make to get up again. This time, you get as far as the door of the war room before you’re stopped.

“I’m increasing the frequency of your sessions with Junmyeon.”

You turn around on your heel, protest hot on your lips, but the warning in your father’s eyes makes you halt. Instead, you lift your neck, stubbornness in your words as you reply, “He can spend as long as he wants teaching me statecraft, but it won’t make a difference to my opinion about your general’s dirty tricks.”

With that, not allowing yourself to be stopped again, you promptly stalk out of the room.

“Fucking hell, it’s almost like I need to protect others from you.”

You hold your position, sword pointed right at the middle of Jaehyun’s neck as you look down at his sprawled frame on the floor, relishing in the satisfaction of your third straight win of the day. Still panting from the round, you grin in response to his comment as you move your sword out of the way, arm extended for your opponent to stand up. He accepts your help, grabbing his own sword that you had knocked out of his grip from the floor as he lets you assist him to his feet.

Wordlessly, the both of you make your way to the benches that line the circular practice courtyard, where your other guard, Hyejin, keeps watch. The argument with your father had left you restless, and like all previous similar instances, you had spent the evening training with the two members of your personal cohort. The balanced weight of the sword in your hand, the adrenaline from the fights and victories, and the exertion from all the physical activity had served to clear your head per usual, leaving behind only a dull soreness in your bones that you appreciate.

Jaehyun and Hyejin have been with you for years – first as friends, only a little older than you, and children of members of the royal guard, when you were young. As the years had passed, time you had spent running around in the palace gardens and aggravating the head cook had slowly turned into them training in the guard, and you preparing for your eventual Queen-ship. On your sixteenth birthday, it was inevitable that they were announced as your official guards. You had missed them in your four years away, but the reassurance they had always provided made an easy reappearance after your return.

“How many straight losses was that? Five?”

Jaehyun scoffs at your goading as he rubs a cloth over his face. He’s only got on the loose, white tunic that’s worn by the guards below their uniforms, and sweaty patches on the fabric make it stick to his toned skin. It makes you savour the effort he’s had to put in to fight you. “Three. And I let you.”

“You keep believing that,” you grin, giving his shoulder a soothing pat before you pull the coat over your own, equally sweaty tunic. “Next, you’ll tell me that you would have beaten me in the next round.”

“I would have actually beaten you in the next round. Just to keep you humble.”

“Humble me, then. Hyejin, do we have time for another round?”

Your other guard doesn’t look at you from her roving gaze on the perimeter walls when she replies. “Not if you’re both going to bathe before dinner.”

A pause.

“Please bathe before dinner.”

Jaehyun makes a big show of disappointment as he slides his sword into the scabbard that he’s attached to his waist, now fully attired in his proper uniform in preparation to go back into the castle. “Guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson some other time, Your Highness,” he sighs in faux-displeasure.

“Guess so, Jaehyun. Until then, I can be as insufferable as I want,” you smile, beginning to walk towards the palace doors and feeling the reassuring, constant motions of your guards behind you.

Under her breath, Hyejin hums, “Is that not what you’ve been doing so far?”

“I could choose to not bathe.”

“And Her Majesty could choose to dismiss you from the dinner table because you’re masking the smell of the food with your scent.”

You waggle your finger in playful warning at Hyejin behind you as you all reach closer to your room. “Don’t go around giving her any ideas, please. I have no idea what my father has already told her about today, but it can’t be very pleasant.”

Her Majesty, (the Queen, your mother, etcetera), would rather see you suffering and starving in bed right now than next to her on the table, you’re sure and certain.

Her steely glare hasn’t left you since you entered the room, her eyes narrowing at your (freshly cleaned and dressed) frame the moment you had entered. It had prompted Jaehyun to mumble a quiet ‘Ouch,’ under his breath behind you, and you could hear the wince in his voice. Now, after spending nearly an entire meal faced with the full wrath of that glare, you’re inclined to agree with him.

It’s silent in the small dining hall, the one you use when it’s just family, with only the sounds of cutlery clinking. When you finish eating, dabbing the sides of your mouth with the white cloth, you observe your parents. You wonder if you’ll be able to make it out of the room pleading a headache before they’re done with their meals, but for the second time in a day, your smooth getaway is foiled.

“Sit,” your mother calls out, even before you make the smallest move to get up. “Wait.”

Perseverant, you reply in a tired voice, “I’d love to talk, but it’s been such a long day. Maybe tomorrow?” You press a limp hand up to your forehead for extra measure. One of the guards lining the walls lets out a puff of air that sounds like repressed laughter. Your target audience remains unimpressed.

The King remains a quiet onlooker as you and your mother face-off, but you notice the glint of satisfaction in his eyes when you back down. He’s staying for the show. Defeated, you lean behind in your high-back chair in a show of acquiescence. “What would you like to discuss?”

“How have your lessons with Junmyeon been going?”

“Fine.”

She doesn’t respond, quietly waiting for you to elaborate.

You sigh. “Boring. He tells me things I already know, and the things I don’t know are said in such a monotone that I don’t want to know them.”

“Hmm. And how was the meeting today?”

“Same as all the others. The General shows just how crooked his moral compass is, and everybody suitably recalibrates theirs at his every proclamation.”

Silence.

Then, “You do realise that you’re the princess? That you’re next in line to the throne?”

At your confused expression, your mother drops the sternness. “You are the second most important person in that room. What’s stopping you from telling them what you think?”

“They won’t listen, that’s what’s stopping me,” you huff.

“So, make them listen,” your mother insists. “Remind them that you’re their future Queen. You aren’t gallivanting across the globe in your trousers, singing sea shanties while pulling rigs and sleeping in dingy bars with your crew anymore, Y/N. You’re training to be a ruler. When you take over the kingdom, you’re going to need people who respect you, advisors you can trust. Use these meetings to scope them out. Find a way to work with the General. And for heaven’s sake, pay more attention in your lessons.”

You’re stunned into silence. You think your father might begin to break into applause.

Subdued, you mumble, “I- I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, your mother offers a firm nod before turning in her seat. “Now how was your day, darling?”

“Just got a thousand times better,” the King replies with a wide grin on his face.

This time, you aren’t stopped when you excuse yourself from the meal.

The palace walls aren’t really as high as they look. The turrets run deceptively tall when they’re seen from the ground, and the four spires seem as though they touch the sky, but when you’re actually atop the towers, it doesn’t feel that high at all. Your legs dangle over the edge of the second tallest surface in the castle, and despite your guards’ complaints, it’s not that dangerous. Not really, not when you’ve got one of the many watch balconies jutting out just a few feet below you.

The royal family had gone to bed hours ago, but sleep had remained adamantly elusive. Then you remembered the terrace. Giving the guards stationed outside your door the slip, you had made the familiar trek, avoiding the patrolling security, and climbed up the stairs.

There’s a nip in the air, a chill that’s so typical of this time of year, but you relish the bite of the wind against your frame. From this height, you can see beyond the palace gates, out into the expanse of the kingdom’s capital. It’s too late at night to expect the hustle and bustle of regular city life, but the lights in some households remain luminant.

You’re confident that you’ll be able to make it back to your rooms in secrecy when you have to, but for now, you want out. Just some time alone.

“Thought I might find you up here.”

You don’t turn around. Unspeaking, you pat the space next to you in invitation.

Jaehyun takes the proffered seat, his presence and the heat of his body welcome after so long in the cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that his hair is tousled, and the only weapon he’s carrying is a long sword tucked into the belt of his tunic that looks rumpled, hurriedly worn.

“How did you know I was gone?”

“The guards heard you climbing out through your balcony. You’re slipping.”

“I’m out of practice,” you combat. The last time you had executed this escape manoeuvre, you had been twenty-four hours away from a voyage with no end destination, and possibly no return, four years ago. “I’m sorry you had to be woken up.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes. Then suddenly, it hits you. The messy hair, the haphazard tunic. Is that a bruise near the side of his neck? Immediately, you backtrack. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry you were- uh, interrupted in your…activities, I didn’t know – “

“It’s alright,” Jaehyun chuckles at your rambling, the sound low and amused, if a bit sheepish. “This is my duty and all that.”

You aren’t fully convinced. Wincing, you ask, “Hopefully, she understood?”

“We aren’t courting or anything. No harm, no foul.”

It shouldn’t be such an awkward conversation. You’ve both known each other for years, personally as friends, and professionally as heir-apparent and guard. You’re both adults. So why do you suddenly feel colder at the knowledge that Jaehyun has a life outside of you? When you had been away, he and Hyejin had been assigned patrol duty; just a few hours every day, giving them more than enough opportunity to explore their lives aside from palace work. And they don’t owe you anything when their shifts are over. What they do with their free time is none of your business.

Maybe Jaehyun notices that you’ve suddenly gone quiet, and when he speaks again, it’s cajoling, curious, and conspicuously a different topic. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“It’s weird.” You keep your eyes fixed on the horizon. “I came back thinking I was ready to start training, but I feel so…out of place. The rules, the routine. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to live with a schedule. How to be a next-in-line.”

“You seem to be doing fine, all things considered.”

The small laugh bubbles out of you. “That’s awfully optimistic of you.”

“No, I’m serious!” Jaehyun twists slightly, making you shift your gaze from the dark blue sky to his earnest face as he continues. “In one week, you’ve managed to cause more upheaval in that war room than there’s been in the last year. They aren’t indifferent to you - they’re just trying to get things done quicker now because they know that you’ll make changes when you take over.”

You don’t want to believe it, but you trust his judgement and opinion, and you aren’t keen on starting a debate at the moment. “And the first person to go will be that dratted General.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s been a while, but you’ll get used to the palace again. Only a matter of time.”

You recognise the wisdom in his words, letting out a small sigh. Agreeable silence settles like a blanket over your frames, and the lights from the city keep your blank focus for the next few minutes, until you feel your eyes beginning to droop. Giving Jaehyun’s shoulder a pat, you say after a yawn, “I should get back to bed. And you should get back to…whatever you were doing.”

The discomfort at the thought spikes for a second before you forcibly dull it again, as your guard stands and gives you a hand to help you up. “Would it be too much to ask you to take at least one guard the next time you decide to disappear from your room in the middle of the night?”

“I’m afraid so. It defeats the purpose.”

He doesn’t look surprised at your answer, just slightly disappointed. “Alright, then. But I’m increasing the security in your wing at night. Can’t make it so easy for you to escape.”

You smile at the thought of the challenge, already plotting new routes in your brain. Maybe a disguise? By the time you reach your room, your eyes are threatening to shut fully. Jaehyun escorts you to the door, gives you a polite ‘Try not to do anything else that could jeopardise your safety tonight.’, and waits for you to sleepily nod and shut the door behind you. The sounds of him walking away accompany you on your journey to your own bed, and the thoughts of his destination continue to leave an unwelcome, sour taste in your mouth till you fall asleep.

The General’s tone is mocking when he asks, “What do you think, your Highness?”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

The silence in the wake of your proclamation is so loud, you could hear a pin drop. Maybe it’s a good thing you hadn’t spoken all these days, if only to stun the advisors into listening when you finally do.

The General sits similarly baffled for a second, but he’s the first to break the heavy quiet. Clearing his throat and darting a nervous glance at your father, he asks, “How so, your Highness?”

“If we do that, we come off as brutes.”

“So, we give in to their demands?”

“Then we’ll come off as pushovers.”

He grits his teeth, shooting another look at your father, who only looks on with approval. With great delight, you watch as the General takes a moment to calm himself, and asks in thinly-veiled annoyance, “Then what do you suggest, your Highness?”

You’re having far too much fun pushing his buttons, so you take your time leaning back in your chair, seeming unbothered, like you have all the time in the world. You let the silence stretch, watching as the advisors roll their eyes and let out small huffs of frustration at your antics, and quietly delight at the morphing of appreciation into exasperation on your father’s face. Finally, just when the General opens his mouth again, you cut him off. “Instead of taxes, demand something else. A percentage of profits from any goods transported through our kingdom. A cut of their infantry to handle security and maintenance of the new corridor. Control over a minor port city from their territory, enough to give us a better foothold in global sea trade. You’ll increase their employment and reduce wastage of our resources at the same time.”

Worried glances are exchanged when you finish, but they don’t bother you. You’ve said what you’ve been wanting to say for the last week. On seeing that there’s no reply forthcoming from anybody else, the King claps his hands with an air of finality and commandingly says, “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us in the next few sessions. We’ll consider each option. Send a rider saying they’ll have our decision within the fortnight.”

You’re the first to get up from the table, and you feel eyes on you. Suspicious eyes, irritated eyes, slightly impressed eyes. At least now, they’re taking notice. You lift your chin up higher, deliberately not sparing them another glance, except for a nod at your father. Jaehyun’s proud expression meets yours before he and Hyejin take their places behind you, escorting you out of the silent war room.

The next few weeks are easier than the first, partly because the council has started listening to you in the meetings after that first day, and partly because you’re slowly getting used to palace life again. You might have had freedom out at sea, but you didn’t have silk covers to crawl into every night and rose-scented bath water to soak in to your heart’s content every day. Your mornings are spent in meetings, drafting new policies and regularly butting heads with the General. In the evenings, you train with your guards. Your years away have made you comfortable with the sword, and every session with Jaehyun leaves both parties sweaty and satisfied. Hyejin has taken it upon herself to improve your archery skills, and her tough-love approach makes your limbs sore and achy, but the burn keeps your head clear, even if you do end up having to moan and groan your way to bed every night.

You’ve been caught by Jaehyun lots of times on the terrace. You refrain from pointing out the details that make you stiffen – the unlaced tunic, the small, purpling bruise on his jaw, the mussed hair, and eyes that are too alert for two in the morning. These meetings all usually go the same way. A few minutes of awkwardness as you apologise for interrupting him and he waves you away, a few more minutes of silence where you both watch the darkened horizon, and then the stories. You’ve told him about the spices you’ve encountered on your travels that make your eyes water with just a whiff, the overgrown island with no inhabitants that you had run aground on, that one stormy night as the ship tossed on tsunami-like waves, making you wonder if you would see the sun again. You tell him about your crew – about Johnny, your first mate, and Yuta and Irene, with their pirate origins. You can’t keep the longing from your voice as you narrate these tales, however much you try. For his part, Jaehyun silently listens as you speak yourself to tiredness, till you’re finally ready to go to bed with the knowledge that you’ll fall asleep this time, and then escorts you to your rooms. In the morning, neither of you make any mention of it.

Four days a week, you sit out of council meetings and head to the library for your statecraft education with Junmyeon. You wish you could say they were going as smoothly as everything else; it’s still difficult to sit in one place and listen to him drone on about history without falling asleep. Once, even Jaehyun had to be shaken awake by a discreetly yawning Hyejin as they both stood guard. Of course, it hadn’t been your fault he had spent the night awake.

“What happened in 1732?”

Junmyeon’s question pulls you out of the hard, perhaps too wild, glare you’ve been directing at one of those blasted flies for the better part of the last hour. You vaguely recollect a mention of the year in question during the session, but your memory stops at that.

“A war,” you hazard.

Probingly, your tutor asks, “Which war?”

“The, uh, Great War of…1732?”

You get an unimpressed huff in response. He sits back in his chair, seeming so defeated that you almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“It was the Final War of Demacia. Nearly half our current trade routes are possible due to the victory, and some of our biggest exports are from the lands we annexed during that period.”

That sounds like something you should have known.

You’re trying to formulate an appropriately chastised response, and you are chastised, when an interruption manifests itself in the form of a throat being cleared.

“That’s enough for today, Junmyeon. Thank you.”

You feel your blood chill at the sound of your mother’s voice. You slowly turn around to see her serenely gliding out from in between bookshelves. As Junmyeon gives a short bow and gathers his books, you try to school your expression into one of passivity and calm. The Queen, in all her regality, refuses to look at you, preferring to let you stew and fidget as you straighten your back. She takes your tutor’s seat, directly opposite your own, calmly leaning back.

“Your father would like to step down as reigning monarch by year’s end.”

“What now?”

“He’ll be announcing his decision during the Annual Winter Ball, two months from now.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He’ll also be announcing your ascent, and the coronation preparations will begin soon.”

“Hold on a second,” you cry out, your increasing agitation at the surprise conversation finally culminating in a panicked shout. “What makes you think I’m ready for this? That the kingdom is ready for this?”

“You have been ready for this since you were born. This is what you have been training for.”

“You saw how terrible I am at history.”

Your mother’s placid expression doesn’t change. In the same, calm tone, she says, “We will look at different forms of teaching. Junmyeon suggested outdoor lessons. Maybe combined with your archery classes.”

Your thoughts are all jumbled, but before you can protest, the Queen holds up a palm - the first sign of assertion in the entire conversation. “What you cannot learn before sitting on the throne, you can learn on the job. Your father and I will be there to guide you.”

Her voice becomes more forceful as she continues, drowning out the beginnings of your misgivings. “It is time for a change of ruler. The kingdom will gain confidence in your leadership only once you begin to take decisions. We will start with weekly rounds of the capital city so they may be re-acquainted with you. After the coronation, a tour of the entire territory under you will be necessary, of course.”

You open your mouth once. Close it. Open and close again. Nothing comes out but a weak sort of whimper.

The Queen’s eyes turn gentle. “You have been training for so many years. Diplomacy comes naturally to you, and loathe as I am to admit this, your years as a ship’s captain have taught you leadership and given you real-world experience of the kingdom outside the castle. You’ve already begun to make your mark on the war council’s decisions. This is but a natural progression. The next step.”

“I’m not ready,” you manage to choke out. The little speech has served to only further your concerns, reminding you of the magnitude of the conversation. “I thought I had a couple of years left.”

“You will be a kind and just ruler, I am sure of it. You just need a little more focus and confidence.”

All you can do is chew your lip in consternation.

“There is also another matter.” A flash of uncertainty crosses your mother’s face, so quick that you think for a moment that you imagined it. “As per custom, a ruler must take a consort within the first year of ascension.”

At this, your face turns stony, nervousness giving way to annoyance. A reaction she must have anticipated, given her hand coming up to pacify once more, before you get a chance to hotly reply. “I am well aware that you have no intention of marrying immediately. I also have full confidence in the fact that you are capable of ruling this kingdom single-handedly. But the job takes a lot, and after a point, a companion will become necessary to keep you grounded. All I’m asking of you is to think it over. Scope out some of the neighbouring kingdoms for eligible suitors. We can organise a ball if needed.”

For the second time in the conversation, you’re left speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You can tell when a discussion has room for disagreement. This one brooks none.

Like she didn’t just drop life-changing news on your lap with all the delicateness of a wild horse, your mother gives you a pat on your arm, stands up, and glides out of the room.

“Big day, huh?”

You chuckle bitterly.

“Understatement of the fucking century,” you bite out.

The kingdom - your kingdom - is darker than usual tonight. A festival at a nearby village took place, meaning the people of the capital were spending the night there. The lack of light from houses means the stars are clearer, twinkling mockingly at your slumped over frame.

Jaehyun doesn’t seem his usual dishevelled self tonight either. All clothes in place, outline of his dagger in his boot. You don’t want to think he might have come to realise how therapeutic you found these tower conversations, and figured that you might have needed a little more company after the revelations of the day, but you know he’s a perceptive man, and that’s probably exactly what happened.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

His voice is a low rumble, gentle and coaxing. You’ve almost always been able to hide nothing from him when he speaks that way.

Over the last few weeks, you’ve come to appreciate his solid presence, whether as a bodyguard during the day or a friend after sunset. He and Hyejin make you feel safe, and keep you company in your largely isolated existence. These facts you always knew. But the night-time adventures have been new. As a bodyguard, Jaehyun is a fighter through and through, always committed to his job to protect you. But these conversations, where he lets you talk yourself to exhaustion every night, decides to stay up with you rather than let you think yourself in circles alone, offers his own opinion on things you need some help with, and reassures you when the day has been particularly rough - these have been revelations. You don’t remember this kind of closeness before you left. You had also never really paid much attention to the warmth of his firm shoulder pressing into yours, or the fiery competition in his eyes when you sparred.

“What’s there to say? I’m not ready to rule, and nobody seems to realise that.”

“What makes you think you’re not ready to rule?”

You make a hassled flurry of motion with your hand, a literally-everything gesture, and a disbelieving look that makes him let out a small laugh. You slouch back down, satisfied that your point has been made.

“Alright,” he slowly continues once the silence has settled into a quiet comfort and you’ve calmed down a bit. “When do you think somebody’s ready to rule?”

Huffing, you begin to list out the very same things that had been running through your head for the last few hours. “When they know the history of the kingdom, maybe? When they can stand to be in the same room as their General. Definitely when they can say they’ve actually lived at the palace for an extended period of time recently.”

“Do you want to know what I, and most of the other guards, think?”

“Do share.”

“That you’re fearless and brave. That you can take the tough decisions that need to be taken, and that you love your kingdom enough to be able to recognise its problems and want to fix them. You think you’re not ready, but I - we - think you always have been.”

He’s leaned towards you a bit now, conviction writ large on his face as he searches your expression for a reply that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. His hair has grown out a bit, a couple of dark brown strands fluttering near his temples in the gentle midnight breeze. When did he grow so tall?

You need to look away, overwhelmed by his response and the quiet certainty with which he says it.

Clearing your throat, you let the soundless dark settle once more around you after his proclamation. When you feel comfortable, you give voice to your other concern.

“How am I supposed to find somebody and convince them to marry me in a few months?”

You had hoped he had another speech prepared for this one, but the answering silence drags. When you turn to look at him, he’s not facing you. Leaned back on his hands, palms supporting his frame and shoulders bunched up as he lets his legs dangle off the edge, he surveys the city sprawled in front of him. You take in the angles of his face, the slow blink of fluttering eyelashes, as his neck bobs with a swallow. If you weren’t surveying him so closely under the pretext of waiting for an answer, you wouldn’t have noticed the rueful smile that mars his visage, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it expression that immediately morphs into blankness.

“Anybody would be a fool to turn you down, your Highness.”

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of vigorous activity.

Your lessons are upped, and surprisingly more effective when taken outdoors. Junmyeon looks hilariously out of place in the garden, noticeably uncomfortable with the bees and the dirt, but he does his best, and the effort makes you eager to learn. It’s easier to stay awake when you want to witness the next rapidly-masked disgusted expression that crosses his face when a butterfly lands a little too close to his books.

You’ve become markedly better at archery, now dedicating a good portion of your day to practising on moving targets. Sword fighting, despite needing less attention, remains your preferred method of unwinding in the evenings.

Council meetings are easier, you find, now that you know you have the support of the guards standing along the edges of the room. Jaehyun’s words keep coming back to you every time you speak, and they lend a certain confidence to your words that you can certainly do with. Even the General has begun to ask for your opinion in a less mocking tone, and your father’s tacit approval has only become more apparent.

Your nightly rendezvous has come to a standstill. Part of you admits that it’s because your days are so packed that you hardly have any trouble falling asleep anymore, but you can’t ignore the fact that there’s been a tangible shift in the atmosphere between you and Jaehyun. There are no more muffled chuckles when you say something stupid, no more secret glances between meals when you look up from your soup towards the guards. Even sword fighting, while still exhilarating and adrenaline-inducing, has become purely transactional. A spar and then nothing. No goading, no whining. He bows, slides his sword back into his sheath, and you’re princess and guard once more. You feel like an invisible line had been crossed that night, and you flounder to steady your feet on the other side now. If Hyejin notices, she makes no mention of it.

Per the Queen’s plan, you’ve taken to roaming around the city when you can, usually in the late afternoons and near-dusks, when the streets are less crowded. These visits are filled with citizens either peering curiously at you while unobtrusively standing at their doorways, or approaching you with their problems. You make it a point to listen to all of them, even going so far as to get one of the palace librarians to accompany you so they can take down notes. This is one of your favourite parts of the day, you’ve come to realise. Understanding your people’s concerns and thinking of ways to help them.

The only real challenge to your otherwise smoothly operating schedule is the Annual Winter Ball. Every night, you come back to your room to find dozens of extravagant gowns in a multitude of colours and designs, hanging from so many racks that you can barely make your way to your bed. The ones you like are sent to your mother for final approval, and the ones you don’t are carted back to the modiste. They’re all fashionable, full of silk trimmings and lace ties, figure-hugging and made with lovely, soft fabrics. They’re also a pain to go through at the end of the day.

The bigger annoyance that’s present in your room every night is the bundle of portraits of princes and princesses from neighbouring kingdoms, suitors that you’re expected to choose from. To you, most of them look the same - same aristocratic high nose, strong chin, their credentials boasting leadership of successful armies and how close they are to ascending the throne. You try picturing yourself with them, any of them, but the image doesn’t form.

To make things worse, the Queen has taken to accosting you in different parts of the castle. In between her work organising the Ball and your rounds between the numerous tasks that are keeping you busy, she appears from behind pillars and materialises from the bushes. Her presence is always heralded by questions about who is going to be on your arm that evening, whether anybody has caught your eye. You wave her away with excuses of your packed schedule, pretend that you’re so very excited to reach your lessons on time, but her expression is knowing, and you believe it’s only a matter of time before she stops indulging your pathetic attempts at evasion.

It looks like today, your luck has finally run out.

“Are you going to keep watching?” you pant, as you parry a thrust, twisting your sword with a slide of metal against Jaehyun’s as you move it down and away before stepping towards him. For his part, he remains focussed on the fight, sweat dripping from his forehead and neck, tunic sticking to his frame as he mirrors with his own countermove.

From the side, your mother replies, “Will that be a problem?”

Your attention is caught by a lock of Jaehyun’s hair coming free of its set position, flopping over his forehead. It distracts you enough to not notice his subsequent strike, and the next thing you know, your sword is flying out of your grip and the tip of his is pointed steadily at the centre of your neck. You hold his glance for a long second, taking in the pride in his eyes and the quick smirk that vanishes instantly. Chests heaving with harsh pants, you both step away from each other. He gives you a short bow before moving away, closer to Hyejin who’s standing a bit further, to give you and the Queen some privacy.

It was a stupid loss. You have no right to get side tracked by something like that.

You gather your wits about you, knowing you’ll need them for the ensuing conversation. You can recognise the end of the line when you see it. Your mother remains silent until you’ve retrieved your sword and sat down next to her.

“I liked the blue dress, the one with the lace sleeves and silver bodice.”

You nod mutely in reply, acknowledging her approval of your choice. “What do you think about Prince Taeyong?” you counter, preferring to have this conversation done with.

“Second in line to the Cilician throne? A diplomatically strong match. Do you like him?”

“I will take him to the Ball, but I will not name him my husband so soon, after meeting with him once. If he turns out to be disgusting and awful, and chews with his mouth open, I reserve the right to never see him again and to look for a different suitor.”

The Queen lifts her oft-repeated pacifying gesture. “Of course. Nobody is forcing you to wed somebody you do not wish to. I’m glad you've made such a sensible choice. We’ll send out a special invitation at once.”

The third pin pokes you somewhere between your fourth and fifth rib, making you wince and let out a small squeak of surprise. The sewing mistress gives a low apology, but remains focussed on her job of gathering extra fabric from your shift and pinning it in place for alterations. You’re stood in the middle of your room, arms held out as two maids take measurements there and a third flits around your frame, making marks on your corset and humming periodically. The blue dress that’s been decided on hangs next to you in its frame, and occasionally, the head tailor, who’s writing down notes and surveying the preparations, looks between you and the dress. Sunlight streams into the room, illuminating the swathes of fabric strewn across the floor.

For nearly an hour, you’ve stood in this position, mostly patiently letting the tailors do their job. You have enough to keep yourself occupied. The thought of the Ball, just about a week away, where your coronation will be announced. The thought of Prince Taeyong, arriving at the castle in two days, whom you’ll have on your arm when the announcement is made. The thought of Jaehyun, always the thought of Jaehyun, standing on the other side of your door, stoic and stone-faced, never smiling at you anymore.

He’s taken to appearing more and more dishevelled in the mornings. Not once slipping at his job, but showing up bleary-eyed and with more marks around his neck at various stages of bruising. Stories of him frequenting seedy pubs and getting into fistfights reach you occasionally, and you can’t help but worry. But talking to him now is like talking to an enemy kingdom’s visiting embassy. Curt and perfunctorily polite responses, never elaborate and never giving any real information.

In the middle of your melancholy, your unseeing eye catches sight of a flash of a deep, red velvet, rich and grand, at the bottom of the pile on your bed. You don’t remember reviewing it before.

“May I see the red one there, please?”

A servant gently pulls it out, holding it up against her frame so you can see it fall clearly.

The neck is low - just short of too low for propriety - and the gold embroidery runs all over the fabric, highlighting the waist and neckline. Your mother would have a lot to say if you wore that for the Ball. But it can’t hurt to have it altered to your measurements, can it? Surely an opportunity will present itself sometime. Knowing that you’re setting yourself up for another hour in your current position, you give the order to ready the red dress as well.

A sharp knock on the door is the second thing to interrupt your thoughts.

“Your Highness?” comes Jaehyun’s low voice, muffled through the heavy wood.

Unthinking, perhaps uncaring, paying no mind to your current state of undress, you call out, “Come in.”

The tailors continue their work as if nothing has happened, as if a (tall, dashing, handsome) man is not standing in their vicinity while their future Queen is wearing nothing but a thin chemise and trying on different corsets. But you notice. And Jaehyun notices.

For a second, he stays on the threshold, just in the way of a sunbeam, his earlier focussed expression wiped from his face and shock replacing it. His eyes widen, and you revel in the small spike of emotion on his face, the tiniest morsel of animation you’ve managed to extract from him recently. You’re suddenly very aware of the broadness of his shoulders, the way his face is thrown into stark definition by the noon sunlight, soft hair a shade lighter in this position.

“What’s the matter?” you ask, your voice admirably steady.

But if that was admirable, Jaehyun’s subsequent transformation is nothing short of medal-worthy. His back straightens, confident and alert once more, and his visage is a smooth mask of nothing again. “The war council will begin within the hour. They’ve sent a messenger asking if they should wait for your arrival or proceed.”

“Let them start. I should be there momentarily.”

Your bodyguard gives a short, crisp bow, and then he’s spinning on the heel of his foot and walking out, not sparing you another glance, not sparing a thought for the burning you can feel just under the surface of your skin in all the spots his heated gaze had slowed.

Prince Taeyong is textbook. Handsome, kind, and gracious. He sits down only after you have, he listens to your answers attentively, and he’s one of the finest swordsmen of his kingdom. He’s only spent two days at the palace, but you’ve found yourself enjoying your time with him. The two of you had taken a round around the gardens earlier, the first time you could interact freely, and the glimpses you caught of his hidden candour delighted you.

The castle has been steadily filling up over the last few days with visiting royalty and the upper echelons in attendance for the Ball. The North and the West wings are reserved for guests, but meals are taken together in the large dining hall. Every dinner is a gamut of chatter, and the gardens are significantly crowded during the days. With just two days left for the Ball, excitement and anticipation are heavy in the air, and you’ve come across more than a few groups engrossed in animated discussion about their outfits and the rumoured crystal sculpture.

Nobody knows about the big announcement, of course. Your father stepping down while still in good health will come as a surprise to citizens and allies alike, but you don’t have the luxury of that ignorance.

Prince Taeyong may be charming, respectful, and friendly, but he can’t help you with your resurgent sleepless nights. The closer the Ball looms, the less sleep you manage to catch. However far you push yourself in training, however busy you keep yourself during the day, unconsciousness stays out of reach every night.

You had tried the terrace, hoping you could reclaim some semblance of your former friendship with Jaehyun under the cover of dark in a familiar setting, but it had been Hyejin who came to retrieve you. And she was less susceptible to your sob stories than Jaehyun was. With her, it was off to bed and not out of your room again until sunrise.

Jaehyun continues to remain distant, if not a little cold. You had noticed the clenching of his jaw when Taeyong had assisted you out of a patch of wet mud, the tightening of his grip on his sword when you had helped Taeyong up with a hand after a friendly spar. Every morning, you hope you’ll get more than one word answers and curt nods from him, but he remains frustratingly unavailable.

You’re back on the tower tonight, stars once again twinkling at your anxiety. You can feel your eyebrows drawn close together, the creases on your forehead, and the knots on your neck. The vast expanse of the kingdom beneath your feet only serves to heighten the magnitude of what’s about to happen, the population that you’ll be serving and be responsible for. You’re so preoccupied with your worries that you don’t hear the muffled footsteps approaching behind you, even in the stifling quiet of the night.

“Can’t sleep?”

A large hand gently settles in between your shoulder blades to calm you down when you give an alarmed cry, a soft thing of surprise. Jaehyun’s palm burns through your coat, your night robe, your shift. He lets it drop once he realises that you’ve recognised him, and takes a seat next to you.

You’re so stunned at the minute interaction, at the fact that he’s here, sitting next to you like you’re old friends, that you can’t say anything for a second. Suddenly, the only thing you can feel is anger.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, pulling your back straight, using the haughtiest tone you can.

Jaehyun has the audacity to seem confused, eyebrows knitting together as he turns his head towards you. “I thought you might appreciate the company, your Highness.”

“Oh?” Your voice is a hiss, an excuse for the shout you want to let out instead. “You think you can spend weeks ignoring me, being an absolute asshole to me, treating me as nothing more than your charge, refusing to even look me in the eye, and then waltz here in the middle of the night and expect me to welcome you?” you bite out.

His face becomes stormy, and it electrifies you. Good.

“How would you like me to treat you, your Highness? Am I not your bodyguard? Is it not my duty to treat you like my charge?”

Unconsciously, you lean towards him, meeting him eye to eye, matching his cool annoyance with your own irritation. Weeks of pent up frustration are evident in your voice. “You know what I mean,” you stubbornly reply. “We used to be friends. You used to tell me about your adventures in the city, and I’d tell you about the shit in my head. What the fuck happened?”

“Friends?” he bites out, the word dripping with venom. “You’re the Crown Princess. I’m your bodyguard. Being a friend is not in the job description.”

“Then what are you doing here now?”

Silence.

You’re both facing each other, slid close together enough for your knee to dig into the side of his thigh, and for you to make out all the emotions flitting across his face. Shock, like you’ve slapped him. Rage. Frustration, sadness, all of them come and go in a terrifying sequence until his well-worn blankness is back. That angers you the most. His gaze flickers down to your lips, before he draws back, as if burned. As if you’ve burned him.

He scrambles up, the most inelegant you’ve ever seen him. Before you can get a word in, and you’re not sure what you would have said because you’re slightly panting from the sheer chargedness of the interaction, Jaehyun is on his feet. Something in the way he stands, gingerly, delicately, makes the syllables stop on the tip of your tongue.

His next expression shocks you, completely throwing you off balance. He looks down, meeting your eyes for the first time in so long, and the sheer helplessness on his face knocks the wind out of your body. “I have no idea,” he mumbles in reply to your pointed question.

By the time you’re finished grappling for words, he’s bowed and left the terrace.

“You’re ready.”

“I’m about to vomit.”

“I felt better after vomiting on the day of my coronation.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, but the momentary lightness is overshadowed by the nerve-wracking anxiety that you’ve been plagued by since you woke up from a restless sleep this morning. The King and Queen sit on either side of you on your bed, the Royal Family indulging in one last private conversation before the festivities of the evening change your life forever. No longer a Princess, but a Queen-to-be. You feel another lurch in your gut at the thought.

Your father continues in a reassuring voice, “The announcement is a small affair. Once everybody has sat down for dinner, I will rise and announce that I am stepping down. Once I name you my successor, you will rise, acknowledge our allies, and say a few words about serving the citizens of this kingdom. Remember - this is only the announcement, a duty on our part to let the people know what is coming in the future.”

You nod, trying to force yourself to calm down.

“You are going to be a Queen. Remember that. Channel that.” Your mother’s tone is firm, confident, and leaves no room for uncertainty. It gets the job done better than the gentle platitudes ever could. Time to act like a Queen.

With a last few encouraging sentences, your parents are out the door, leaving you alone in your room once more, butterflies going wild in your stomach. You face your reflection in the mirror, surveying the results of the last few hours of work by the tailors and servants.

The blue dress hangs off your frame beautifully, regal and soft. You wish you were in your ship, in your breeches and belts, or in your daily dresses that let you be passed off as nothing more than a lower member of the aristocracy; but it’s too late for that now. A glance outside your window, at the rooftops of houses closest to the palace under the dusk sky, reminds you of all the improvements you’ve yet to make to this kingdom. Your kingdom.

Act like a Queen, you remind yourself, trying to inflect some fierceness in your expression.

A knock on the door interrupts your self-soothing. Smoothing down your dress, you call out, “Come in!”

You see his reflection before you see him. Jaehyun isn’t in his regular guard uniform, instead having opted for a grander coat that looks specially tailored for his tall frame. His hair looks a bit neater than usual, as if styled, and there’s no sword in his belt.

As you’ve been surveying him, he looks at you. He’s long given up the infuriating façade of nothingness, and makes no move to mask his emotions as his eyes give you a scan.

For a long moment, the two of you only analyse each other, not a word spoken. But when he does speak, it makes a shiver run down your spine.

“My Queen,” he says, bowing low, lower than he ever has before.

Your throat suddenly feels very dry.

“Not quite yet,” you mumble, once he’s risen and back to standing straight, not looking away from you. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the ceremony? How are you going to protect me without a sword?”

“I’ve taken the evening off, your Highness.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked the Captain of the Guard for a leave so I could enjoy the festivities with a…friend.”

The hesitation doesn’t escape your notice. You wish it had, because now, in addition to the roiling in your stomach, you’ve got a heart that’s beating unhealthily fast. “A friend,” you say, your voice dangerously soft.

“A friend,” he repeats, nodding.

You take a moment to compose yourself. “And you are sure this arrangement is just for today? Will I wake up tomorrow morning and find that you’ve handed in your notice so you can go running off to your friend everyday?”

A beat of silence. Jaehyun’s face closes over, and you can see the tell-tale signs of him about to bow and leave. Before he can, before his spine can so much as twitch, you say, loud and commanding, “You have not been dismissed.”

Something ugly twists in his features, his eyes widening imperceptibly as you take a step towards him. “Why are you here, Jaehyun? If the Commander has already granted you permission, why have you come here to tell me of your plans this evening?”

“You know why I’m here, your Highness.”

“Say my name.”

You’ve taken more steps towards him now, close enough that you have to tilt your head up a bit to meet his eyes. That same pleading look from the last night on the terrace crosses his face, respect warring with whatever desire he’s fighting to keep reined in.

“I can’t,” he whispers.

It isn’t enough. It has never been enough.

The bitterness comes crashing into you, and hurt, jealousy, and cruelty are apparent when you coldly declare, “Coward.”

You want him to fight. You want him to shout so you can shout back, and then you want him to storm out of the room. Anything but the blankness, anything but the helplessness. You’re close enough now to make out his slow, laboured breaths, deliberate efforts to keep calm and to not do something reckless. You’re sorely disappointed at the immense strength of his restraint.

The insult is countered with a beseeching, “What would you have me do?”

Your title is pointedly absent.

His fists are clenched at his sides.

“Leave,” you bite out. “You are dismissed. Enjoy your evening and your companion.”

The red dress makes you feel like a Queen. It is fully worth the sharp look you received from your mother when you had entered the Ball after being announced, and it helps you keep your chin up and face set. Not exactly a revenge dress, but you were feeling vindictive. It was an impulse decision, but you carry it so well.

“Your Highness could not be mistaken for anybody less than a Queen tonight.”

You allow a gracious smile to touch your ruby red lips - another last-minute appearance modification. “You are too kind, Prince Taeyong. Again, I apologise for the slight delay. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long?”

“Not at all. Your guests are riveting conversation partners, and there is no dearth of good company in this hall.”

If there wasn’t another, completely infuriating man who has recently taken up permanent residence in your brain-slash-heart, you’d be a little more jealous of the looks your partner has been getting through the evening. He cuts an elegant figure in his fitted suit, highlighting his litheness. The overhanging chandeliers throw the defined lines of his attractive face into further sharpness, and everybody can see his politeness and respect as he interacts with you.

For all you care, any of the aristocracy who have been throwing him sly and appreciative glances can have him. He deserves somebody whose head isn’t currently occupied elsewhere.

Interacting with nobility is exhausting and mind-consuming enough to distract you for a long time. Hyejin and Not-Jaehyun, a temporary replacement, are constantly just a few feet away from you as you make your rounds, your conversations filled with courteous laughter and surface-level discussions of petty territorial disputes. Taeyong stays by your side, per custom, but you try not to lead him on too much. When you eventually have to inform him of your decision to not marry him, you’d rather have a clean, severed tie than draw things out and make them messy. You keep your dances with him limited to two, and as civil as possible.

However hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from subtly scanning the crowd for Jaehyun and his friend. On occasion, you can swear you catch sight of a too-familiar shoulder, or a mop of dark brown hair, but you’re always interrupted by another diplomat that wants an audience. The result means you’re high-strung and on alert throughout the evening, right up until the bell for dinner is sounded and everybody makes their way to the dining hall.

Suddenly, you’ve got much bigger things to be nervous about.

Without paying any real attention, you’re eventually sitting at the head table in between Taeyong and your father, facing the large crowd of guests. Your guests. The bell rings again, signifying an announcement, and suddenly the King is standing, just as planned. You hear your name, ‘my daughter’, ‘lead the kingdom and her people to a glorious future’, all through a haze. There’s some polite clapping, and that’s your cue.

The grace with which you rise is surprising. Your feet are blessedly steady, and your voice seems strong as you begin to speak. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you are ready. As the words you had planned flow out of you, you receive strength from the crowd, at their rapt attention, at the knowledge that you are here to serve them and that they are here to serve you. Your gaze roves over the audience, words gaining in power and conviction, when you see him.

Jaehyun has never seemed more open than in this moment. His face torn between awe and pride, eyes shining with a fierce loyalty that is reminiscent of the tone he had used when he had addressed you as his Queen. The effect is just as potent the second time, and you have to fight to keep your voice even. In that moment, you know with startling clarity that as you implement all these plans that you’re mentioning, he’s the one you want by your side.

He is noticeably partner-less, only a single person in the midst of other guards who have taken the evening off to enjoy the Ball. The possible explanations run through your head, but you regain your composure, making sure to avoid looking in his direction for the rest of your speech.

When you’re done, you retake your seat, accept Prince Taeyong’s hearty congratulations, exchange short but satisfied nods with your parents, and then promptly take a long draught of the wine in front of you. There’s a weight that’s lifted off your shoulders with the conclusion of the main event of the night, but an unsettling buzz has taken up residence under your skin that’s fighting to be released. On the outside, you’re all smiles and composure, participating in conversations and indulging Taeyong’s friendly interactions, but internally, you’re wound up like a spring, ready to leave and take care of what needs to be taken care of.

When the desert course is finished, and groups of people start to rise, you determine that it’s acceptable for you to leave the proceedings. You direct your attention towards the section of the hall where you had seen Jaehyun, only to find him gone. You feel your palms getting clammy. What if he took your previous hurtful words to heart? What if he really did quit?

“He left by the back way a couple of minutes ago.”

Shocked, you turn towards Taeyong. His eyes are twinkling with amusement, and all of a sudden, you feel like a fool. All this time you thought you were going to be letting him down gently, only to find out now that he’s far smarter than you had given him credit for.

However, appearances must be kept up.

“I’m sure I do not know what you’re referring to, Prince Taeyong.”

Again, with a diplomatic crypticness, he softly replies, “I can assure you, your secret will stay safe with me till the time you choose to reveal it yourself. Now if I may be so bold, I think your young man is getting farther away the longer you remain seated, yes?”

You feel deflated, tired from the day’s happenings and its buildup, tired from running around the castle looking for Jaehyun. All the optimism and hope and determination you had while leaving the Ball has long since evaporated into thin air, leaving behind nothing but a vague sort of emptiness, and a foreboding that you can’t seem to shake off.

You don’t know which prospect is worse - going back to Jaehyun being a stony-faced guard who refuses to otherwise acknowledge you, or Jaehyun leaving your retinue entirely. Would you rather have bad interaction than none at all? Which would hurt more? Maybe you could grow to love Taeyong in time, maybe he’ll accept somebody who’s obviously pining after somebody else. Maybe you’ve well and truly driven him away.

It’s no surprise that sleep doesn’t come easy, and before you know it, you’re flinging your covers off and making the familiar trek up to the tower. The smooth steps under your feet are all you really register, before you’re throwing open the door to the terrace, desperate to be out of the four walls and under the open sky instead.

Only to see that you aren’t alone.

Jaehyun’s broad, slouched back faces you as he sits in his regular place, legs dangling off the sides of the high wall. You don’t have the time to process what you’re feeling before he turns around at the sound of the door creaking shut.

He doesn’t look surprised to see you. With a defeated, rueful smile, he says, just loud enough for you to hear, “I was wondering when you’d come.”

You’ve imagined so many scenarios of this meeting over the last few hours. What you’d say, how you’d say it, how he’d reply, the worst cases of how it could all end - but now that you’re actually facing him, you find yourself blank. You decide to start with what’s easiest.

“I’m sorry,” you say, warily watching as stands up and makes his way over to you. “For everything. I shouldn’t have pressured you, or called you a coward.”

He stops at a respectable distance, not too close but close enough for you to graze his tunic with an outstretched hand if you so desired. “No, you were right. About all of it. I was scared of what I was feeling, and I took it out on you by being an ass. You didn’t deserve that.”

“What were you feeling?”

It’s the closest you’ve gotten to being so direct about this…whatever this is. You know that this time, he won’t run away.

His head tilts. “Have I not been stupidly obvious?”

“I want to hear you say it,” you softly reply, unable to resist the urge to step closer to him, like a magnet. You look up to see his face, see the emotion swirling in his eyes, right before resolve takes over.

“I feel…,” he starts, voice lowering to a whisper, a secret between the two of you, trapped and treasured in the space between your bodies. “I feel like I’ve spent so many years watching you, that somewhere along the way, the watching became wanting. You distract me so much that I’m scared I can’t protect you. That’s why I started distancing myself, trying to do my job without getting sidetracked.”

His voice is low with confession by the end of his words, and it’s so much more than you had ever thought you wanted, but you’re greedy for more, hungering for more explanation, more proof. “What about all your night-time adventures?”

“Distractions from my distraction. I could never stay away for too long. It’s difficult to be by somebody else’s side at night after being in your presence the entire day. Why do you think I’d drop everything just to come up here and be with you?” Closer now, so close that he barely needs to raise his voice above a mumble for you to hear him.

“And did you lie about your companion tonight?”

His gaze falters. A momentary slip from the previous vulnerability into darker territory. His tone takes on a sharper note when he says, “Seeing you with Prince Taeyong, knowing he might one day wed you, share your bed…it bothered me. I wanted to see if I could affect you the same way. It was petty of me.”

You step closer now, feeling more confident about where you stand than you ever have, now fully in his space so your front brushes against his. You know that if you reach out to touch him, it won’t stop with an innocent graze of skin against fabric. But you have to know one last thing.

“Why now?” you breathe out, fighting the urge to tip your chin forward just a couple of centimetres, enough for your lips to meet.

With more of that admirable restraint, he manages to murmur, almost in an undertone, “I couldn’t stand it anymore. Every day is agony. How many ever women I spend my nights with, whoever else I decide to court…it’ll always be you. I can’t stay away. And that dress today…I was afraid I was being presumptuous, that I’d be hung for my audacity, but the last few days…I can’t be the only one who feels this.”

The last phrase ends with a questioning inflection, a mixture of pleading and hope writ large on his face, so very close to yours. It’s only right to put him out of his misery. You do so by making that last move, unable to fight what your body so desperately desires any longer.

Your lips clash with a fury of pent-up tension and lingering resentment of the treatment you’ve both been giving each other for the last few weeks. There have been too many skirted-around confessions, too many naked looks, to take this slow. Those shoulders that you’ve spent so long just watching feel just as solid as you had imagined under your palms, flexing as Jaehyun’s arms wind around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his frame.

As if mirroring your frenzy, the wind begins to pick up, making you let out a tiny shiver, even as a small sigh leaves your mouth at the nipping on your neck. Jaehyun pulls away, eyes several shades darker, hair messier than you’ve ever seen it, filling you with a quiet pride. And then, you catch sight of a fading mark on the side of his jaw, only visible from this close. You feel something primal in you. Anger? Jealousy.

“Why don’t you do something about it?” he asks, noticing your pause. He’s challenging you to take the final step, kick off the process of the beginning of the inevitable end of this night - in between the sheets.

You won’t make it that easy.

Your right hand, previously pressed against the side of his firm chest, slowly travels upwards, grazing against the smooth skin of his neck, before you insistently press the pad of your thumb against the offending bruise. Jaehyun hisses, gaze sharpening, his arms tightening around your body reflexively. The eye contact between the two of you is charged when you command, “Say my name.”

For a long minute, there’s no sound but the wind. Neither of you move.

And then he does. Dips his head low, low, until his mouth is right next to your ear, his frame towering over yours and strong arms keeping you in place. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he whispers your name, voice a low rumble that travels through your spine.

It flicks a switch that you hadn’t known existed before. Suddenly, you can’t possibly be close enough to him to satiate the need that’s rushing through your body, and if his enthusiasm when he opens the terrace door is any indication, he feels it too.

The mad dash back to your room is punctuated by feverish kisses, palms burning as they run over bodies, and painfully long moments of peering around corners to make sure there’s nobody there to witness the depravity. When you finally reach your corridor, the two of you enter your room as dignified as you possibly can, only staying apart long enough for the door to shut behind you. In the next instant, you’re both sharing the same space, the same air, pulling desperate sounds out of each other. The clothes can’t come off fast enough, and you don’t tire of hearing your name drop from his lips.

“Good morning, Hyejin.”

“Your Highness.”

“Good morning, Hyejin.”

“...Jaehyun.”

“Are you surprised?” you ask, genuinely curious, impressed by your guard’s lack of reaction except for a single raised eyebrow at your other guard stepping out of your room with you in the morning.

Hyejin shrugs. “Not particularly. You two haven’t been very…subtle.”

Tiny spots of colour appear on Jaehyun’s cheeks, matching the tiny, fresh bruises that you know are there right below his collar, safely hidden. You can’t help but grin. “I’m sorry for the discomfort that might have caused you.”

“No apology necessary, your Highness. I would be glad of a new partner, one that’s less broody all the time.”

Jaehyun’s jaw drops in offence, making you chuckle as he splutters his protests. Unconsciously, he’s stepped into his regular guarding position, two steps behind you on your right. With a grin, you soothingly pat his arm, dragging him next to you instead.

“There, there,” you say, exchanging amused glances with Hyejin out of the corner of your eye. “Let’s go tell my mother that I’ve found somebody not completely repulsive to stand next to me at the coronation.”

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