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kenslilove · 3 months

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᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?! Pt.2

preview: You called him your boyfriend? Why would you do that? Draken isn't sure he's cut out to be the boyfriend to Takemichi's precious little sister...

ft. Ken "Draken" Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 9kish... help 🫠🤪😰😵‍💫🥴🤡

W. NFSW 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (Draken is in his late 20’s and owns the bike shop, reader is in their early 20’s in university), fem reader (takemichi’s little sister), crybaby/bimbo reader, angsty in the middle, Draken is very insecure of his ability to be in a relationship, slight exhibitionism (Draken fucks you while on call), multiple cream pies, messy make-outs, oral (m!receiving), mating press, squirting, lots of praise, aftercare, lots of pet names, it gets soft and passionate at the end 🥹🥹

an. The long-awaited part 2 of “Who’s Little Sister.” I put my heart, soul, and pussy into this piece. I think it's my favourite thing I've ever written in all honesty, it very much encapsulates how I think Draken’s and I’s relationship would start. God, I love him so much. It’s also the first time I've written anything remotely angsty though, and I can’t tell if it's lame or not LMFAO. Please, let me know what you think. I'm so very happy to be reposting this piece on this blog to share with yall, it’s literally so important to me <33 and I’m so so happy this is the fic that is bringing back my writing spark! Part 3 will hopefully be even better than this 🙏🏼🤭 Constructive feedback, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

extra note: Listen to “Nothings gonna hurt you baby.” By Cigarettes After Sex during the last scene. It’s Kenny’s and I’s selfship song and help inspired me for the ending <33

tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eveningatthemoviesnetwork and @shoyosdoll bc you've been such a supporter of this fic hehe <33 i hope you love part 2 as much as part 1 <33

“Draken-Kun, are you coming tonight?”

There was silence on Draken’s end of the phone as all the other males on-call waited for a response. Mikey was the first one to say something back, annoyance clear in his tone as he spoke directly into the receiver, making his voice sound much louder than necessary.

“Oi, Ken-Chin, get off the phone if you’re just gonna ignore us.”

“Sorry–” Draken finally responded, his voice seeming just a bit more… strained than usual. Not enough for the boys to notice until he grunted softly, what seemed to be creaking or something muffled in the background of his audio call.

“You good, dude?” Mitsuya piped up, his own voice a little muffled due to a sewing needle between his lips but nothing like Draken’s.

“Oh yea, fuckin peachy–” Draken breathed in response, his huff coming out as a soft laugh when a bit of sweat started to roll down his temple.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to the call, how could he, when you, Takemichi’s precious little sister was underneath him, sprawled out and trembled as his cock drilled into you at a steady pace. You were biting down on your bottom lip so hard, Draken swore that blood would free itself soon from the delicate flesh, your eyes screwed shut as your pretty chest bounced with each thrust of his hips. You were trying so hard for him to be quiet, just like he instructed as soon as he picked up the phone. The attempt was adorable, considering how vocal you usually were for him.

But Draken was twisted, he knew that deep down, so he just couldn’t help himself when he angled his hips just right so his cock head would jab right into that gummy sweet spot within your walls. You yelped, pleasure shooting up your spine, only for the sound to be cut off by the smack of Draken’s free palm clamping over your mouth.

“Who has a girl over~?” Baji piped up, suddenly very much interested in the conversation. Draken laughed shallowly into his receiver, his hand tightening up along your jaw as he continued to ram into the spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t even control your babbles when he did this, an endless stream of whimpers and sobs being muffled into his palm as you held onto his wrist for dear life.

“Gotta go, Text me what time I needa be there–” Draken didn’t wait for a response from his friends. Instead, he hung up quickly, abandoning the device somewhere on the bed. When he released the hold on your mouth you whined at him, the tears finally spilling from your eyes.

“K-Kenny, Kenny please– Please–!”

“So fuckin loud pretty, all the damn time,” Draken says it with a grin, easily manhandling your thighs over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper. He presses a kiss to your ankle, right beside the anklet he bought you as your pussy flutters so desperately around his cock.

“O-Oh! Please, Ken–!”

“Please what?” Draken grunts, his hips slapping up against yours ruthlessly now as his release comes dangerously close. He knew you weren’t far behind. Had learned your signs very early on. Your toes would curl, your eyes would get foggy, chest stuttering. Your pussy would milk him so tight and leave rings of arousal on his cock.

And he loved every second of it.

“Wanna cum, needa cum again–!” you pleaded with him, nails digging into the muscles of his flexing biceps. He nodded in agreement, his own voice becoming hoarse due to the sheer squeeze of your pussy. Although his pace started to get sloppy he still fucked into you, one hand slithering between your sweaty bodies in order to massage ruthlessly at your clit.

“Go on then, cum, make a fuckin mess f’me gorgeous.” He breathes, licking his lips when you throw your head back with a cry. The mess you make on his cock is breathtaking, arousal squirting from your used hole and dousing his hand, wrist and abs. He swears under his breath at the borderline painful grip your pussy has on his cock when you finish, one final thrust allowing him to spill ropes of cum right up against your cervix.

Draken’s trembling when he falls onto his elbows over you, his breath coming out a bit shaky as his cock still twitches within your walls in the aftermath of both of your highs. He starts pressing wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your neck and face to help you come too, a soft chuckle leaving his lips when you whine softly.

“You okay baby?” His voice is a whisper, and as the energy slowly comes back to you he smooths his palm over your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye to pick up leftover tears. You nod, one of your trembly hands lazily dragging through his black locks of hair. “Mhm, m’good, Kenny. Help me sit up?” He does, one big palm on the back of your neck to help you to sit up against the headboard.

He presses a smooch to your lips before easing himself out of you, both of you wincing softly from the loss of contact. It’s only when he pulls out completely and his softening cock falls against his thigh that he realises just how big of a mess the two of you made of yourself and the sheets. It makes him swell with pride, a grin slowly curling on his lips.

You’ve come a long way, from the sweet girl who was just learning to cream on his cock to the messes you’ve made on his bed on the daily.

“M’gunna get a cloth.” He says, handing you a glass of water and your phone as soon as he stands to keep you occupied. His muscles are still a bit tingly as he stands, arms stretching up and above his head as he heads towards the bathroom.

“Nice butt!” You call out, making him snort softly as he stands before the bathroom mirror. He can’t help but admire the marks you’ve littered across his neck and chest, the cute little bruises reminding him of the shape of your puckered lips. He then examines the nail marks you’ve left along his forearms and shoulders, some of the red pathways breaking in the middle to show little droplets of blood. Lastly, he sighs dreamily at the sheen of your arousal that coats his pelvis, a ring of white still layered at his base.

Man knew he was in heaven.

When he came back to the bedroom after tidying himself a bit, as well as with a cloth in hand you were on the phone with someone, giggling into the receiver and looking up at Draken with a playful glint in your eye.

“I’ll actually meet with you later, m’with my boyfriend right now~” Despite the way your giggling increased and you squealed to your friend about how you’ve mentioned him before with such excitement, Draken was anything but that.

His chest tightened up, crease forming between his brow. Boyfriend? When did that become his title?

“Kennnnnny~” You snapped him out of his thoughts, though his brows stayed furrowed. “Hurry! The mess is only getting bigger over here.”

One hand was planted on the mattress as he gently wiped the dampened towel over your pussy and thighs, your hand coming to cover his, making him pause in your tracks. “Shouldn’t scowl so much, handsome.” You murmur it gently, thumb gently smoothing between his brows in an attempt to fix the crinkles there. “You’ll get wrinkles~”

“You called me your boyfriend–” His voice was blunt, which took you by slight surprise. A little pout formed on your swollen lower lip as you subconsciously squeezed at his wrist.

“Well, yea–”

“We haven’t talked about that.” He was still being blunt as ever, so much so it almost startled you, made you feel much smaller under him as he sat up on his hunched, throwing the soiled cloth into the laundry bin.

“I-I know…” You simply muttered, chest started to feel tight as you watched just how serious his face had become. He was tugging his strands of black hair into a low bun when you sat up a bit more, fingers gently brushing over his chest. “But I just thought, thought that we were together…”

And it wasn’t wrong for you to think that way. Ever since that first night at Draken’s apartment the two of you had been secretly hanging out. You went out to restaurants, and the local arcade took his bike to the mountainside and watched the sunset. The two of you had bought little things for one another, like the gold anklet that sat pretty on your ankle and the hello kitty keychain that was currently attached to his bike keys. You even made sure to turn off your location so Takemichi couldn’t see just how often you were having sleepovers at Draken’s place.

You two did the things that couples did together. You two did the things that you saw Takemichi and Hina do on the regular. Dare you even say, you did things with Draken that he and Emma used to do–

Plus, he was fucking you every chance he got.

“Well, maybe you shoulda thought about talkin to me about it first before you go squealing that I’m your boyfriend.” His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, a tone he usually used with his friends but never really with you. It had you suck in a soft breath, suddenly feeling very exposed curled up in nothing but his bedsheets.

“You don’t have to be so mean–”

“M’not being mean, I’m being realistic. It ain’t cute to just assume I’m your boyfriend when we haven’t talked about anything official.” He was off the bed now, tugging up his boxers. When you didn’t respond he sighed. “We hang out and fuck around, why do we need to be more than–”

When he turned around again to look you in the eye his own voice caught in his throat. Your eyes had gotten wide, a glossy layer of tears hiding the usual beautiful shine your gaze held. Your lower lip was trembling softly, fingers clutching onto the covers so tightly he noticed how your knuckles turned white.

“Hey–”

“M’gunna go.” You interrupted, the crack in your tone only making his heart plummet harder in his chest. As you got to your feet, his blanket securely wrapped around you he grabbed both your shoulders.

“Hey, don’t be like that (Y/N), you don’t even have a ride–”

“Gunna call Michi.” You slipped out of his grasp by tucking yourself out from under his hands, bending to grab at your clothes scattered across the ground.

“Like hell you are. We’re not telling him about us, remember what happened last time?” Draken could still hear the boy's ruthless comments after that first night, the crack of Baji’s fist against his jaw–

“Don’t care, wanna go home.” Your muttering had gotten softer, ready to slip into the bathroom and shut the door right in his face.

“Would you stop being such a brat?” Draken grabbed at your arm this time, tugging it back towards him. He himself hadn’t expected it to be so forceful, the little squeak you released and the falling of tears instantly making him let go of you. You both stared at each other a little shocked, Draken’s breath froze in his throat and his fingertips went a bit cold as you looked at him.

Teary-eyed, shrunken in. Scared. Were you scared of him?

Without a word, you finally went into the bathroom, and it was only then that Draken let out his frustrated breath, cheeks feeling hot as he clenched his fists up at his sides. Fuck, what the fuck was happening right now. He hated this nonsense, hated just how frustrated he felt, hated that look on your face, hated that he couldn’t even really understand what emotions were running through his head.

Why was he mad anyway? Why was any of this really a big deal?

He used his own phone to call you a cab, knowing you wouldn’t actually call Takemichi to pick you up. You had also gotten an ear full after getting caught, and as much as you trusted your brother, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. You stayed locked in the bathroom until Draken gave the wood a gentle knock with his knuckles.

“Cabs here…” He murmured. You didn’t look at him when you walked out, eyes bloodshot and downcast and when slipped past him fully clothed. He watched from the ledge of his bed, jaw set rigid as you so casually adjusted your bag over your shoulder, now a little overfilled with the stuff you had started to accumulate in his bathroom. Something slipped from your fingertips onto his kitchen counter before you made a beeline for the door, Draken only getting up when it closed firmly behind you.

He approached slowly, that odd feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach seeming to grow, expanding into his chest as he noticed the subtle twinkle on the countertop. It was the anklet he bought you, dainty, gold, shiny, his initials hanging from the small tag.

“Fuck—!“ His emotions boiled over into anger, face red when his fist connected with the drywall. A crack formed in the white fall, his knuckles taking on a deep purple almost instantly as he pulled his clenched fist back to his side. Instead, he let his forehead rest in the dent he just made, thoughts spiralling, making his heart pound in his chest.

Had he really just done that? Made a big deal over nothing? Put his hands on you? And for what?

You called him your boyfriend… was that really… so wrong?

Was he really so set on “not being a sister fucker”, did he really care so much about what the boys thought, what people said about him, that he was willing to let you go?

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed leaned up against the wall like that, thoughts running wildly through his mind, making it pound. Eventually, when his eyes started to get sore, narrowing down in an attempt to hold back unwanted angry tears he moved back to his room to plop himself down into bed. And he didn’t get up for the rest of the evening.

It had been a week.

One whole week since you had left Draken’s apartment, and the two of you had not spoken since. Day three was when Draken caved and texted you, considering you had turned your location off for him so he couldn’t check up on you from time to time.

“Are you okay? Please, we need to talk.”

Radio silence. The message was left unread by you. He even sent another the day after, just a quick message but a little more firm than the last.

“Don’t shut me out like this.”

And still, nothing. It was killing Draken from the inside out. Each day that passed made him more anxious than the last. Were you okay? Did you hate him now? Were you crying to your brother? Draken couldn’t ask Takemichi about you, cause he didn’t even know you two were a thing in the first place. But every time he saw his black-haired friend his heart would stutter, tightening up in his chest.

You laughed just like he did. Were you laughing right now?

Draken had a bad habit of letting things like this consume him. Almost everything seemed to remind him of you or something the two of you had done and it was driving him a little crazy. And all because you had called him your boyfriend.

All because Draken was afraid to commit to someone again despite his need to do so. All of his friends always thought he was so mature, and yet here he was, working through feelings that were staring him right in the face like some teenage boy.

He kept his headphones in at the shop, his body hunched slightly on the stool he set up beside the bike he was currently repairing. The music was loud, drowning out not only the background noise but his thoughts that seem to repeat themselves over and over. His brows were slightly furrowed when he lifted from the busted engine only a moment, just enough to wipe away excess sweat that built up on his brow.

That’s when he caught a glimpse of you. It made his heart pause mid-beat, breath hitching in his throat. He caught the last bits of you as you rounded the corner that led up the stairs, probably in search of Takemichi But that didn’t matter.

Draken found himself scurrying from his seat, the stool skidding from under him as he was quick to follow suit. With long strides, he made it to the stairs and there you were, hand on the railing, one of those cute little skirts he loved hugging your waist just right. He called out to you, twice actually, quickly pulling his headphones from his ears when you actually turned to look at him.

“Hey–”

“I won’t be long.” You simply responded, voice sounding much too sad for Draken’s liking. He noticed how your hand tensed up on the railing when he approached and it made him frown. “I’m just grabbing something for Michi–”

“I wanna talk to you.” He took another step, a tentative one. He hated how your eyes were already getting a little glassy. “Let’s just talk, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna talk, Ken.” There was that familiar shake in your tone, the one he had become very aware of. You were just like your brother in so many ways.

His sweet little crybaby.

“C’mere…” He was on the step right in front of you now, the levelling allowing him to lean down just a bit so his face could be close to yours. You took your time meeting his gaze, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “It’s okay baby…”

“You–” He could tell you were trying to gather your bearings, trying so desperately not to crumble and let the tears fall that were already sitting in your lashes. He was patient with you, scared that if he went in too strong you’d just run off from him again. You sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. “You really hurt me, Draken.”

He could have hissed, chest getting a little tight. He hated the way that nickname sounded coming from you.

“I know, I know little love and–”

“Do you not wanna be my boyfriend? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you–”

“Then be my boyfriend.” It had been a bit more firm than he expected, your brows set and a little pout on your lips after you spoke it. Had things been a little different, he would have told you just how proud he was of you for standing your ground like that.

“It’s not, it's just not that simple.” It was his turn to think his words over, lips catching between his teeth as those doubtful thoughts started returning to him. He was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that simple because–

“Why not?” You were being blunt again, words bordering on angry as you sniffled. The first few tears finally fell and Draken wanted nothing more than to wipe them away.

“Well to start, there’s your brother–”

“I don’t care what Michi thinks!” You groaned it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanna be with you, Ken–”

“But–” He really hated that he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“What are you so afraid of?”

That really made Draken stop, eyes widening just a bit as he looked back into your teary ones. Your chest was heaving a bit as the silence sat heavily between the two of you. Draken blinked, once, twice, brain reeling over this one simple question.

Draken had been in many fights, grew up in a brothel, seen blood and gore and sex and a lot of things people shouldn’t see. He wasn’t scared any of those times. So, why now? Why was he so scared now as he looked into your eyes that were basically pleading with him for an answer.

“I–” His words were shaky, and finally broke the intense gaze the two of you were sharing as he looked down. “I dunno.”

There was another beat of silence before you continued up the staircase. Draken only looked up when he knew you were at the top, far enough away from him that he didn’t have to feel like your gaze was piercing him. He wished that he didn’t look though, wished that he hadn’t seen that sad smile on your lips.

He never wanted to see that ever again, not on you.

“I hope I’ll still be around when you figure it out.”

Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed now since he had seen you. The first few days he refused to even think about that interaction on the stairs. That sad smile of yours easily pulls his heart apart and thinking back on it only made him more and more pissed at himself.

So instead of thinking of you, he filled his time with work. He found himself opening and closing the shop, despite Inui trying to make him go back to their balanced schedule. He took on more projects, burying himself under the weight of grease and bolts instead of dealing with the weight that now sat in his chest.

You hadn’t come back to the shop yet either, he had a feeling you’d never come back.

What got Draken out of work early one night was a call from Mitsuya. He called twice before Draken reluctantly picked up the phone, the annoyance clear in his tone as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“Ya know m’working–”

“Well, you sound just delighted to hear from me~” Mitsuya hummed, chuckling when he heard Draken’s grunt from the other end of the phone. Mitsuya was organising threads by colour when he spoke. “Come over tonight?”

“I don’t feel like partying,” Draken answered back right away. What he meant though was that he didn’t wanna go in case Takemichi was there because then he would only remind him of–

“It’s not gonna be a party doofus, it’ll just be us two.” Draken made a look of disgust, more so at the insult than anything else. “Just come.”

“I have shit to do here–” He was trying his best to get out of this, but if anyone could see through Draken’s bullshit, it was Mitsuya.

“You’ve locked yourself in that damn shop for the past week, I know you can make a little time to go out. Let Inui close tonight.”

“Nah, it’s my night.” It wasn’t.

“Bet you haven’t even showered.”

“Oh fuck off–” Draken grunted, sniffing himself only because Mitsuya wasn’t there to give him the side-eye. He scowled softly to himself when the scent he picked up coming from his overalls was far from pleasant. “Will you quit nagging me if I come, mom?”

“Absolutely buddy.” Mitsuya was chuckling softly, rolling in his chair to pull back up to his sewing table. “See you at 7, doofus.”

Draken wasn’t given the opportunity to snap back with something clever, the phone went dead right away. With a huff Draken resultantly found himself putting his tools away, tucking his overused workbench in its proper corner so he could head off to Mistuya’s.

But not without a shower first.

Draken’s hair was still damp when he headed for Mitsuya’s place. With how fast Draken sped his bike down the freeway, it only took about ten minutes tops. Draken lugged a case of beer with him up to the familiar walkway that belonged to Mitsuya’s townhouse. When he opened the door he still had his work glasses on, a lazy grin tugging on his features when he was met with the sight of Draken’s scowling face.

“Would you look at that, he showered.”

Draken just rolled his eyes, nudging past Mitsuya and making himself at home. The two found themselves quickly situated on the couch, spread out on each end and open beers on coasters. Mitsuya had pulled out his old N64, so the two were currently in a round of Mario kart. The silence had been comfortable between the two, as it usually was until Mitsuay finally decided to speak up.

“So, what's got you fucked up?”

“What?” Draken said with a short laugh, his eyes staying glued to the tv screen.

“You only get all solitary like this when something is really bothering you, so–”

“Nothin’s up, m’good.” Draken simply grunted, which quickly turned into a scowl when Mitusya passed him for first place in the game. “Quit distracting me.”

“Is it Takemichi’s little sister?”

Draken almost choked on his beer, finally looking away from the screen to look at Mitsuya who was still calm as ever. Only after he passed the finish line did he meet Draken’s gaze, one brow lifted up.

“What about her?”

“You were seeing her–”

“I was not.”

Now it was Mitsuya’s turn to laugh, a hearty one too that only made Draken’s brows furrow further. He pulled his glasses from his face, sighing out as he shook his head.

“You think you’re so hard to read, but you’re not.” Mitsuya kept talking before Draken could bark at him. “I know you kept seeing her after that night.”

“Okay, so?” Draken wasn’t sure why he was getting so defensive, maybe it was because it pissed him off that Mitsuya knew him better than he knew himself.

“So, did you two break up?”

“We were never together.” Draken simply stated, going to start another round of Mario kart. But as soon as the words left his lips he hated the way they sounded, and now that they were out there, floating around his head it made him grip his controller a little tighter.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mitsuya said, that dumb smile of his making Draken shake his head, grit his teeth even. It was Mitsuya’s turn to scoff, tipping his beer back to polish it off. “You are such a fuckin doofus dude.”

“Watch your mouth man–”

“Why are ya doing this to yourself?” Draken sucked in a little breath. The silence hung in the air between them a little and Mitsuya rolled his eyes when he saw how Draken’s head tipped slightly to the side in confusion. He continued as he opened up another beer. “Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? You can do commitment, you’ve done it before.”

Draken felt a little frozen in place, eyes unfocused as he tried to process what Mitsuya had so obviously laid out for him. His heart started to pick up in his chest as he really thought it over, well at least tried to. “Yea, I did it before and look what happened.”

Flashes of his relationship with Emma were impossible to ignore. How things went from wonderful to terrible so quickly. How the two of them became each other's world so fast for it all to crash and burn. The fighting, the lies, how he was so scared after he lost her but to also lose everyone he loved. His found family was all he had, and if they had decided to up and leave–

“Sure, it was a bad breakup,” Mitsuya spoke with a simple shrug of his shoulders, looking at Draken’s pained face over the lip of his bottle. “But it didn’t stay bad, did it?”

“Guess not…” Draken murmured. It didn’t. He didn’t lose his best friends, he didn’t even really lose Emma. After time apart and some growing up, the two had gone back to speaking terms.

“So, let yourself be happy, dude.”

“But she’s another little sister–”

“Yea you have a type.” Mitsuya couldn’t help but laugh, especially after Draken sent his controller flying at him. Mitsuya thankfully caught it, holding a hand up in defence. “Relax! I’m joking… The boys are gonna bug you about it, but Draken, who the fuck cares.”

Draken slowly nodded at that, allowing himself to really think it all over. He had never been the type to care so much about what others thought about him. He was letting himself get in his head for something that was already over and done with. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he picked up another beer, shaking his head as he twisted the top off to chug some of it down.

“I hate you, you know that?” He mumbled to Mitsuya, which only made him laugh out loud in response. He clinked his bottle up against Draken’s.

“Love you too buddy. You should really make up with her.” Draken eyed Mitsuya over the lip of his beer. “I assume you said some dumb guy shit to her.”

Draken pouted, mumbling something along the lines of “maybe I did” before he took another drink. Looking down the stem of the bottle Draken sighed softly, thinking of that sad smile on your face. It made him scoff at himself. “I just– I’m not sure I’ll be able to treat her right, as her boyfriend.”

“Well, she’s stuck around this long, hasn’t she?” Mitsuya started to set up another game of Mario Kart for the two of them as Draken nodded slowly. “I’m sure if she didn’t think you’d treat her right, she woulda left.”

Those couple words were left lingering in Draken’s head the rest of the evening. Mitsuya didn’t bring it up again, and Draken didn’t dare to. But as he started to pass out on his friend's couch, he had one too many beers to be driving himself home, he really thought over what Mitsuya had said. What he knew was right.

I’m sure if she didn’t think you'd treat her right, she woulda left.

Draken chuckled softly to himself, his palm coming up to slap him right on the forehead. The sting made him hiss to himself, but it's what he deserved. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wished his brain worked the way Mitsuya’s did.

“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke, and it was Mitsuya sleepy agreeing with him on the couch beside him that had him laughing all over again.

He knew you’d be finishing classes up on campus right now, had picked you up and dropped you off many times before to know that you’d be coming out of the big college building any minute now. He parked right out front, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he watched the door. His eyes scanned over many faces, all different kinds, all of them filtering through, onyx gaze trying to lock onto–

You.

You were in the middle of giggling, those familiar wrinkles showing up around the corners of your eyes, your pretty manicured nails holding the books you had tighter to your chest. The image made him smile fondly, lips upturned just a little when the two of you finally made eye contact.

He was more than grateful that you returned the small smile. The darkest parts of him had conceived him; you'd simply walk right by him, or even turn around in the opposite direction. But instead, you excused yourself from your friends, who all couldn’t help but side-eye the older, imitating dude leaning on a motorcycle, dragon tattoo on full display with his hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. As you approach he speaks, unable to keep his eyes off your own.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Ken.” Just the way you say his name makes his heart flutter a little. He moves to the side, opening up the small compartment on his bike that’ll allow you to put your books inside.

“Come with me?” He asks, and the momentary silence makes him feel more nervous than he had in a long time. You could say no, he could have taken too long. You could have already slipped right out of his fingertips and it would be all his fault–

“Okay.” You simply reply, and your smile doesn’t falter. It stays as you tuck your books away, as he places his helmet on your bread and helps you adjust the straps. You in front of him on the bike just as you had on that first night he picked you up. His hands easily swallowed yours on the handlebars, and before you knew it the two of you were speeding off towards his place. You knew that because the route had become too familiar after the many times he’d whisked you away after school. Your heart was beating fast in your chest like it normally did when you rode on Draken’s bike. It filled you with a type of adrenaline you hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

That and the fact that his hands seemed to be holding yours tighter than usual.

After a couple of sharp turns and uphill roads, you two made it to Draken’s apartment. He gave you your space as you two headed to his room a couple of floors up, his heart seeming to be in his throat. He needed to relax, he knew exactly what he had to say to you, knew what he had to do, and yet as he fiddled with his keys a bit to find the right one that opened his apartment, the familiar scent of your perfume was making his brain a little foggy.

It was the warmth of your fingers that shook him from whatever haze he was in, the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot as your fingers easily tugged the right key, helped him slip it into the lock. “It’s this one, Ken.” You say it as if your presence alone isn’t making him weak at the knees.

He just nodded, allowing you in first. Shoes were slipped off and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen. You stood right in the middle, your arms tucked neatly behind your back, hands clasped. He missed the way you used to make yourself at home, grabbing something from his fridge or sprawling out on his couch.

He wanted you to be that comfortable again.

“I really needed to see you.” He started, his voice a little hesitant. He cleared his throat, fingers once again in his pockets. He looked everywhere but at you, despite the way he felt your gentle gaze burning into him. “I needed, I just–” He huffed. “I really fucked up–”

There was your familiar warmth again, but instead, you were grabbing at one of his hands. So easily your fingers threaded into his, and suddenly the weight in his tummy didn’t feel all that heavy as he looked down at you, those wide pretty eyes he had missed so fucking much. “You did kinda fuck up–” You murmur, which makes him huff again, this time with a hint of laughter behind it. “I know I did. I know.”

He pulled you in a little closer, and he was so very grateful that you weren't resistant. In fact, you melted into his chest, your face finding that familiar comfortable spot against his peck, cheek pressed up against where you felt his heartbeat, which was currently pounding in his chest. He sucks in another breath, one hand coming to gently pet your head. “I’m sorry, I’m real sorry sweetheart…” He feels the way you start to tremble and it eats at him, brows furrowing up. “Please, don’t babygirl, m’tryna apologise to you–”

“Don’t be dumb like that ever again Ken.” Your voice waves and he knows you’re about to cry, but he doesn't stop you from speaking, if anything, your shaky words only make him hold you tighter, a fond smile coming to his lips. “Don’t leave me like that again!” Your voice cracks and Ken has to chuckle under his breath, but there's no bite to his laughter, only fondness. “Next time, just talk to me. I-I know I’m younger and inexperienced b-but I know what I want and that's you–”

That's when he finally stops you, one big palm cupping your cheek. He tilts your head up, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone before he's pressing a smooch to your lips. You both seem to relax against the embrace, and when he feels a salty tear hit his thumb he swipes it away, lips parting from your just enough so he can murmur against them.

“I know, lil love. I know.” When your lower lip trembles a bit a smile breaks out on his lips. One that makes the corner of his lips twitch, little wrinkles showing up around his eyes. His hands cup your neck so gently, thumbs pressing up against the underside of your jaw. He murmurs again, this time his words slurred along with your breathy, soft whimper. “I want you too…”

This time the kiss is desperate, needy. Your fingers turn white at the knuckles when you grip at his shirt, lips moulding against his own. Draken’s tongue is impatient, slithering into your open mouth and reexploring the warm cavern that is your mouth. He huffs when your chest presses flush to him, and with ease his big hands cup your thighs, scooping you into his embrace. Your legs cling to his waist without a thought, the giddy giggle bubbling from your lips and against his own making a bit of blush rise on his cheeks.

Oh, how he missed that sweet, sweet sound.

Draken tries not to trip over himself as he carries you off to his bedroom, his back hitting up against the door at the same time your teeth playfully tug at his bottom lip. He drops you down and the bounce of your body has both of you a little too excited, Draken’s shirt easily coming off as he tugs it up over his head.

“Lemme show you how badly I want you, baby.” His voice has already gotten deeper, and as his big hand comes to cup the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss he’s a bit surprised when both your palms press against his chest, pushing him away an inch.

Surprised and panicked. Was he moving too fast, did you think he was just using you in your vulnerable moment? Had he really fucked up so soon again–

His breath left him in a huff when his back hit the mattress, your body rolling over him. He blinked a few times as you straddled him, palms pressed against his chest and your face heated. He could tell that a flush was working its way up to your cheeks when you looked down at him, your body slowly scooting down from his waist to his hips.

“No, let me s-show you.” Despite just how nervous you were, Draken could tell by the way you chewed on your lower lip, how your fingers trembled a little, undoing his belt and zipper, his cock still twitched with excitement underneath you an odd sense of pride flowing through him.

You had come a long way, from the virgin he met all those months ago. He had just been the biggest idiot and here he was, pushing his hair from his face so he could watch how your pretty little hands handled his semi-hard cock with such care. How you looked at him first, batted your lashes when you leaned in and pressed the sweetest of kisses right to his tip.

“Oh fuck—“

Yea, he was never letting you go again, ever.

You took a deep breath through your nose before taking his tip between your lips, your eyes never leaving his dilated ones. He propped himself up on an elbow, free hand easing the hair away from your face. It was a sight that would be burned into his mind forever. Wide doe eyes, hand barely wrapped around his fat base, pretty lips suckling away at his tip.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me pretty girl.” Draken chuckles breathlessly, and the little glint in your eyes tells him you would have smiled had your lips not been preoccupied. He kept his hand gentle on the back of your head as you slowly took more of him, your tongue flattening out against his underside. His head tilted back in a groan at your steady pace, the warmth of your mouth making his skin prickle with pleasure. His fingers curled in your hair just a bit, enough to hold him back from jerking his hips into you, make you gag–

He’d save it for another time.

“Atta girl…” He murmured, chest rising and falling a little faster as you gained your rhythm. Your eyes peaked up at him again, before you got back into it, cheeks hollowing as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You reached about halfway, which Draken noticed made your brows furrow up.

“S’okay, we’ve got plenty of time to make it fit, keep going lil love.” He encouraged, and you listened, head continuing to bob faster, sloppier. Draken could feel your drool dribbling down his shaft and onto his balls and it made him shiver. It didn’t help that your ass was up high, practically swaying like an excited little puppy just to be sucking him off. Swearing under his breath a moment as his balls suddenly felt all too tight, he pulled you off his cock, the pornographic pop of your lips making him grunt, you whine. The string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his cock was thick, and when it snapped onto your chin Draken could feel himself getting lightheaded.

“W-Why did you–” He silenced your whining with another fierce kiss, and without hesitation you were manhandled back into his pillows, flat on your back. He has no problem working your soiled panties off your thighs, deciding to just tuck the extra material of your skirt into the waistband “Felt fucking awesome.” Your panties are tossed right over your shoulder, a cute yelp leaving you when he hauls both your thighs up, over his shoulders. “But I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.”

From this position your pussy was split wide open for him, your clit poking out and throbbing from under the hood. He sighed, content, pausing his previous actions to lean in, pressing the softest of kisses right up against your clit.

“My pretty pussy.” His soft touch is gone, replaced with his burning desire to claim you again. A few rubs of his cock against your slicken folds, along with your drool is enough to get his cock wet enough to slip in. His breathing hitches once his head makes it past the tight ring of your muscles, the squeeze vice-like just from the simple intrusion.

“K-Ken–”

“Shh, I know.” He coos, hunching over you. With your thighs on his shoulders, his shifting has you in a mating press, a position that all too knew and is making your head spin. Your tummy folds the closer he gets to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your clit while the other intertwines with the hand you had gripping the sheets close to your head. “S’always gonna be a lil tight, isn’t it babygirl.”

You’re already moaning in a wonton fashion, eyes struggling to stay open as he rocks his cock head in and out, his thumb working at your nub. When your pussy starts fluttering for him he works in a few more inches, needy sounds spilling into each other mouth due to his lips staying inches away from your own. “Gonna take it all f’me? Be my good girl?”

You nod, and when you look at him again your eyes have that familiar glassy sheen he’s grown to love. He kisses you right under the eye before with one good push his cock is all the way inside. The sound you make is downright sinful, something between a cry and a mewl and it has Draken’s cock twitching within the tightness of your cunt. It makes his vision go a little stary, the growl he releases vibrating through his chest.

“Good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips into your ass resounds throughout the room, squelching soon coming from between your bodies. In this position his cock nuzzles your sweet spot, seeming to reach down deep, into parts of you that you didn’t even realise existed, and it quickly has you falling apart, babbles freely spilling from your lips, tears wetting your hot cheeks. Draken is quick to kiss them away, his fingers tightening around yours as he puffs hot pants along your face.

“D-Deep~!” You manage to squeak, and Draken has to crack a grin, his hips suddenly stopping their brutal pace just so he can roll them instead. That had you gasping, drool spilling from your hung lips as you look up at him with a gaze that's already beyond fucked out. “S’real deep baby, s’good though yea?”

You nod, fresh tears on your lashes. “Only the best for my baby.” He utters, hips switching back and forth between rutting and grinding. He’s convinced you’ve already cum on his cock, the amount of slick bubbling around his shaft and the tightness of your walls are his hints, but he keeps going, needing to fill you up after so long. Despite your cries, he brings his hand back to your clit, his rubs becoming sloppy. He only releases your hand to cup the back of your neck instead, keeping your foreheads pressed together.

“Eyes on me, lil love.” You do manage to open your teary eyes, meeting his dilated pupils. “Good, good girl.” His body starts to twitch, broad shoulders rippling and his thighs starting to tremble as his own release quickly builds in his gut. “I– fuck. Baby, I love you, pretty–”

And despite just how dumbed out you were moments before, those words seem to bring some clarity to your eyes. Your fingers tangle into his sweaty hair, gripping it at the roots for your sanity. The pleasant little laugh you let out and breathe against his lips makes his heart jump against his ribcage.

“I love y-you Ken, love you so much, Kenny–”

His climax hits him hard, the full-body chill he experiences making goosebumps rise along his spine as he fills you up. The feeling of his warm, thick cum is enough to have you coming undone right along with him, the sensation being yet another new one when liquid seems to gush past your little hole. It makes Draken’s balls tighten up instantly, the warm splash of your arousal onto his fingers that still gently coax pleasure out of your clit. And he can’t help but grin, a boyish grin that quickly turns into a grunt. “Fuck, fuckin squirtin on me, how cute.”

He doesn’t pull out, he can’t. He needs to be close to you, keep your limp body tucked carefully underneath him. You’re too far in to even notice the mess, your whines and whimpers dwindling down into soft breaths as he turns to his side, keeping you in his chest. His cock slowly softens in your walls, and even then, Draken’s keeps you glued to him as you both come down, tremors and pants still coming over both of you.

“Sweetheart.” He murmurs, face nuzzling up against your temple. When he gets a whine in return he holds you closer, careful to ease your face away from his chest so he can cover your tear-streaked face in kisses. “You’re okay, my baby…”

Draken is usually more responsible than this. Then to let you two doze off without a proper clean-up. But feeling your soft heartbeat against his, your fingers still lost in his hair, your lips pressed right up into the crook of his neck and puffing soft air, he just couldn't bring himself to let go. He didn’t want to let go now, or ever. Keeping you here, wrapped in his embrace, he was certain that you’d be there tomorrow morning too, with that beautiful smile he had fallen stupidly, hopelessly, in love with.

Fuck it. He was taking on the little sister fucker title with pride.

“Kenny, your hand is sweaty.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter when he shoots you a glare, pulling his hand away from you and dramatically rubbing it along his jeans.

“Fine, just won’t hold your hand, brat” He grumbles, and that sets you over, wrapping your arms around him mid-walk to press small kisses along his collar bones.

Draken hadn’t felt this nervous ever, in his entire life (this was a lie, he’s just dramatic as ever). The two of you were only steps away from your place, the same place you and Takemichi lived in together. Everyone was there, the entire found family, and you two were now official…

He was getting flashbacks of the group chat, his friend's ruthless behaviour, the way Takemichi hadn’t talked to him for one whole week, and the sweet satisfaction Baji got when he got one free punch to his jaw for Takemichi’s sake.

“Maybe we can tell them next week, or over a call. Whattya think lil love,” Draken murmured, his face hiding in your hairline. Your sweet laughter sent that familiar warmth through his chest, and one good tug on his hand had him reluctantly walking back towards the house. “You’ll be fine.” You say with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “We’re gonna do it together.”

When you hopped up onto the front step, Draken’s eyes trailed down to the sweet dangling sound that was the anklet looped around your ankle. The gold one, with his initials, right where it belonged. The sight had him calming a little, brows furrowed in the way they usually did when he became focused. “Right, together.”

“Michi-nii!” You call out once the two of you enter the house, the sound of music and chatter already filling the front entrance. Draken holds your hand a little tighter as if he had been entering a place he’d never been before.

“Living room!” Takemichi calls out, surrounded by founding members of toman, each huddled around the kotatsu table that was covered in snacks, beers, and cards. Oddly enough the chatter died down as Takemichi was dealing out for another round, a laugh leaving his lips.

“You guys gonna take this round seriously–” It was Mikey’s elbow into his ribs that silenced him, a little puff escaping his lungs. He was about to complain when his eyes were brought to what everyone seemed to be staring at.

And that was you, beaming smile and all, with your hand held tightly by Draken’s, who couldn't seem to make eye contact with anyone.

“Hi Michi~ Hi everyone! What are ya–”

“Finally.” Mitsuya was the first to mutter, leaning back further into his spot on the couch. “Chifuyu, you owe me 20 bucks, told you they’d come out today.”

“No fair!” Chifuyu blurted out, grumbling when he reluctantly pulled bills from his pocket. Pah and Peh were the first to start laughing, clinking their beers together.”

“Wait, you knew? How?” Mikey questioned Mitsuya, who triumphantly took the money from Chifuyu with a laugh of his own. Kazutora was even starting to crack up, hiding his smirk behind his beer.

And despite all the commotion, Takemichi sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to yours and Draken’s intertwined hands. When he did finally speak, it only made the group that much rowdier.

“Well, what the fuck is this–”

“Time for another punch,” Baji said with that signature grin of his, basically hoping from his spot on the couch.

“Wait wait!” You said, your pout only stirring the pot further. “No one is punching anyone! We’re–”

“We are dating,” Draken said, eyes a bit narrowed as he spoke. “We’re dating, Takemichi, I wanna date your sister, and I’m gonna.”

There was another round of silence in the room, but it didn’t last, not when Pah mumbled under his breath.

“Classic sister fucker–”

“Well, you could have at least asked first?!” Takemichi was dramatic as ever, tears swelling up in his eyes at the thought of his precious little sister being tarnished by the big, mean, scary man that was Draken. He let go of your hand then, being just as dramatic as Takemichi if not more so “I did ask, I just asked in front of everyone.”

“But you’re already dating, have been a while no…?” Classic Mitsuya, stirring the pot and making everyone act up yet again.

“Now why would you say that you ass–”

“C’mon Michi, I’ll punch him again for you, one good punch like last time–” Baji was punching at the air for emphasis.

“Sister fucker behaviour,” Peh said with a shake of his head, only making Pah laugh harder.

And amidst the bickering and nonsense that always seemed to break out between the boys, you took a seat next to Mikey, taking the Taiyaki he had to offer you with a little huff. He noticed the anklet, observant as ever as you rolled your eyes when Takemichi actually started crying, something about you losing your innocence.

“He’ll treat you right.” You looked at Mikey, who spared you a small smile and a pat on the head. “Draken–”

“I know!” You responded happily, eyeing him as he held Baji back, the nerves he was feeling earlier long gone. You took a bite of the Taiyaki and giggled.

“I can’t wait to be with him, forever!”

property of kenslilove, do not copy, repost, translate, or move onto any other platform!!

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crispy-chan · 2 years

Text

A Song of Ice and Fire

❝ they say the crimson king is as ruthless as the freezing winters of your land...❞

𓏲 PAIRING. prince!minho x princess!reader (ft. guard!jisung x reader)

𓏲 GENRE. fluff, angst; royalty!au, fire-bender!minho & ice-bender!reader, historical drama, action, romance, love triangle/forbidden romance, arranged marriage!au, subzero!au

𓏲 WORD COUNT. 35k

𓏲 WARNINGS. language, mild violence, minho is a jerk at first, cliche asf, mildly suggestive, a brief allusion to assault (but it's stopped before anything happens), blood, injuries and tending to them (i am not a doctor), food, mentions of war and famines, poison, mentions of death, reader gets carried around and has hair that can be put in a ponytail, petnames, includes the rest of skz as various people (TV-14)

𓏲 SUMMARY. when you agreed to marry the prince of the crimson clan in order to sign a peace treaty, it feels like your entire life is crumbling down in front of your eyes. forced to move to another kingdom, you're afraid of being shackled in a loveless marriage. minho's reputation precedes him, and the stories you've heard aren't exactly great. yet the seemingly perfect kingdom has many secrets, along with a dark history that goes beyond anything you would've imagined...

𓏲 A/N. ot related to GoT at all!! just liked the title lol. inspired by the webtoon subZero. this is just a flaming pile of garbage lmfao - i started this fic back in july but i only got like 1k before i gave up. then, i recently picked this story back up since i didn't want to give up on it. a lot of effort went into this, but i recognize that this story isn't perfect. i came to a realization of how much i despise my writing style while i was writing this :<. i'm a tad bit afraid that only like two people will read lol but oh well, we shall see :) on a lighter note, i really hope you enjoy and please don't forget to lmk your thoughts as i'll literally jump with joy :> side note: the reader comes from the azure clan but the royal guard is caled the cerulean guard.

𓏲 SPECIAL THANKS TO. @luvseos for beta reading the prologue-ish part, tysm!! (also, i'm so so sorry i am not able to tag you so i assume you deactivated :( ) @hyuukais and @kurosism for going over the first part of the fic! thank you guys a lot and i really appreciate all of your nice comments and suggestions <3 big thanks to @sw1mmingfoolz for reading through the first part! thank you for all your sweet comments :> and @celestialgyu for going through the entirety of this. I was nearly gonna start crying in the dms tysm <3 @seung-scrittore oh my god leo you are a savior for going through this entire monster!! thank you! i can't stress it enough how grateful i am <33 i really appreciate it :< also sorry for having to correct shitty typos and my malfunctioning grammar lmfao @chaninfused furat thank you for listening to my rambles as i was losing it on main lol. it was really nice and helpful talking to you, especially as your (self proclaimed) no 1 stan lol. also shout out to your arab prince! minho cause i'm still on the agenda and i can't deny i thought of him while writing this. go read danse macabre for some quality prince!minho (and great plot) @choihaiyun for the amazing banner idea/creation <3

MASTERLIST

The night was coated in inky darkness, thunder rumbling outside your window.

It was a cold winter night, heavy snow coating your entire kingdom like a blanket. Loud arguments echoed through the room, various voices from both sides unable to reach an agreement.

You weren't surprised—it was a tough decision to make on your part, or rather, on your uncle's part. The men from the Crimson clan appeared in your kingdom a few days ago with an unexpected offer: a peace treaty. After many years of war, your entire kingdom was in ruins and it came to no one's surprise that your uncle jumped at the opportunity to finally end the conflict that had been going on for over a century.

That was, however, before he had heard the details of said treaty, and after finding out what the last requirement was, he was about to turn it down at lightning speed.

That's when you suddenly stood up, dusting the imaginary specks of dust from your finest gown—the one you were ordered to wear tonight.

“Enough!” you shouted over the loud voices in the room.

Everyone, both your people and the people of the Crimson clan, immediately turned their heads towards you in surprise, not expecting such an outburst from the crown princess. You'd been silent the entire meeting, choosing to keep quiet and let them talk, but you'd had enough. Everybody was speaking over you, arguing over your future like it was some sort of commodity; nobody even bothered to ask you what you wanted.

Taking a deep breath, you finally whispered, “I agree to the marriage.”

. ˚✧・* •

flashback

“A little bit tighter,” you said to Mina, your maid, who was tightening your dress from the back.

It was currently almost five o'clock and you had a meeting with some officials from the Crimson clan in about fifteen minutes.

To your utter surprise, it was them who first reached out to you on forming an alliance. The war had been going on for over a hundred years and your clan was on the brink of extinction.

Pushed back from the mainland, most of your colonies and settlements now laid offshore on secluded islands in the north.

Your once prosperous nation was now a shell of its former self, ridden with poverty, famine, and death.

To put it simply, the Crimson clan massacred your entire nation and left it in ruins.

Every day, you awoke to the howling of hungry citizens who were freezing in their little cabins with nothing to eat, nothing to do. The war had left its imprint on your nation and if you didn’tdo anything soon, nothing would be left of the once prosperous clan.

You fiddled with your sleeve nervously as you walked down the hallway, both Chan and Jisung right behind you. This was a major meeting and they'd rather be found dead than not accompany you on such an important day. The three of you had been through so much growing up side by side, and they were the only people you could consider friends.

Sweat was beginning to line your forehead as you nervously stopped in front of the grand entrance.

Jisung immediately rushed to hold the door open for you and you offered him a grateful nod, taking a deep breath before you entered the den of lions.

Lifting up your dress slightly, you bowed down to the visitors before taking a seat by your uncle.

Ever since your father died in the war, he was the one to temporarily rule the kingdom until a new ruler would arise. Despite his rather meek and quiet nature, he tried his best to be a strong and dependable leader for your people. Unlike your father, however, he was never a good strategist so he left most of the tactical details to Chan—captain of the Cerulean guard and his right-hand man.

The thin cushion you were sitting on proved to be rather uncomfortable after a full hour. During this time, Felix—the general and minister of foreign affairs (and the crown prince's cousin)—unrolled a scroll handed to him by one of his servants. The fiery red emblem of the Crimson clan shone on the creamy piece of parchment, making you feel even more stressed than you thought was possible.

As his slim fingers worked to crack the seal, you could feel your breath hitch in your throat. This tiny piece of paper would determine your future, along with the future of your entire kingdom.

And despite the Crimson guard arriving with words of peace, you couldn't help but stay alert. You felt uneasy as you watched the cunning man's lips tug into a smirk, reading the terms and conditions.

“Lastly, due to the unusual grounds for the treaty, the royal court requires that the Crown Princess is to be wed to Crown Prince Minho, effective immediately.”

. ˚✧・* •

A thick silence engulfed the three of you as you sat in the carriage, too stunned to speak. Or at least you were. The consequences of your words weighed down on you like a heavy blanket, enveloping you in darkness from which you felt as if there was no way out.

Turning your head to your two most loyal men (and friends, of course), you couldn't help but notice how tense they were. Chan, always one to put others before himself, tried to mask the unease but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

He was afraid.

Meanwhile, Jisung didn't even bother to hide his emotions. A scowl was painted across his pretty lips as his hands clenched into fists. He was staring out the window, almost as if he didn't want you to see the burning rage in his eyes.

A sigh left your parted lips as you fixed your gaze on the village you were passing by. All the people seemed to be happy, the roads were clean and flowers blossomed from every little garden. It only reminded you of how little your people back home had.

You felt a pang of guilt in your heart.

I failed my kingdom.

You weren't able to protect your land. It was a sad realization, but it was the truth. It was the reason you had agreed to be shipped off to Crown Prince Minho as an appeasement gift in the first place. It hurt your pride, there was no doubt about that, but it was your duty.

Not because you were a brave princess ready to do anything for her kingdom. The thought of fleeing came across your mind several times, however, there was a bitter reason why you never even considered it an option.

You had nowhere to go.

Your entire land had been occupied by the Crimson Guard for over two decades now. Not to mention that anywhere you'd go, you'd still be recognized as the Crown Princess of the Azure clan. There were probably hundreds of people who wanted you gone, and if you ever set foot in the neighboring kingdom without an official treaty, you were as good as dead.

You've heard lots of things about Prince Minho.

And honestly, they weren't that great. Quite the contrary—the word around was that he was an unimaginable brute, bitter from the loss of his older brother whom he loved dearly. You winced at the thought of having to meet the man.

You've never met him personally—not many people have—but stories of his staggering beauty traveled to your kingdom too. They say his eyes are as sharp and cunning as those of a dragon and that if you look into them for too long, you'll get burned.

Clenching your hands by your side, you sighed, perching your head against the glass as the demons of sleep slowly overtook you.

. ˚✧・* •

“Y/N, wake up!” you heard a hushed whisper as someone lightly shook your body. “Y/N!”

With a gasp, you shot up, hurriedly looking from side to side. “It's okay, Princess, it's just us,” Jisung murmured in a low voice, the voice he used only when talking to you. As the familiar tone reverberated in your head, you released the breath you were holding, placing your hand on your chest to calm your erratic heartbeat.

“S-Sorry, Ji… just another nightmare…”

“Don't worry, I'm here,” his hand slid down your cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Jisung's serious tone made Chan snort, shaking his head at the two of you and the obliviousness you both possessed. The boy looked at you with adoration and love, like you held the Milky Way in your eyes, while you never said anything, presumably not realizing how deep his feelings for you ran.

Or perhaps, Chan had it all wrong and you loved him back… he couldn't be sure, however, that would be even worse. The three of you were about to enter the Crimson palace, the land of the enemy, to offer a treaty. Your entire land's future relied on how well the deal would go, how merciful would the Crown Prince be. There was no way in hell Jisung would knowingly risk the future of your country by getting chummy with you, who was supposed to be wed to him, the Prince, as an “appeasement gift” of sorts.

Chan never really understood the whole royalty schtick.

Sure, he was a royal guard (the captain, in fact) and it was his duty to protect the Princess, but when he was a young teen who just started out at the academy, he had no idea of the inner workings of the palace.

He wasn't aware of all the things that were done behind the curtains, all the hushed deals, and secret affairs. However, most of all, he never would've expected to see you, the little girl whom he knew since she could walk on her own two feet (or rather waddle, to be precise), be wed to someone like Prince Minho.

Nevertheless, the man couldn't help but scoff, a small smile appearing on his lips, despite his best attempt to hide it.

Ever since he was a little boy, Jisung had this sense of duty and obligation to protect you. He was closer to your age than him, so it was natural that the two of you were closer with each other than you ever were with him. Or perhaps it was too natural.

With a light thud, the door to your carriage opened, and a young guard held out his hand for you to take. Ignoring the glare Jisung shot the poor boy, you gladly accepted his hand, slipping your gloved palm into his and walking down the steps till your feet were securely on the ground.

Upon stepping down, you were immediately taken aback. The Crimson Palace was simply divine. The humongous building extended as far as the eye could see, offering a horizontal view of the ancient-looking (but well kept) structure. Despite wanting to appear proper and lady-like, you couldn't prevent your jaw from dropping in awe.

“This is… wow,” you whispered, tongue darting to moisten your lips.

Your throat suddenly felt very dry.

It was then that you noticed how warm the climate was. The surcoat with the traditional fox-fur lining began to feel heavy on your shoulders and you realized that for the first time in years, you actually felt warm outside.

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice murmured in your ear, tugging on your sleeve. “Do you think it's him?”

You didn't have to even ask who Jisung was talking about. A cloud of worry washed over you as you immediately straightened your posture, expecting the Prince to appear from behind the swarm of guards to welcome you.

You were left disappointed though, as the person who emerged from the crown wasn't the Prince. Rather, the man that came forward was one you recognized immediately.

He was the one who came to your kingdom prior to your arrival. Felix was his name, if you recalled correctly. The pleasant smile he showed you when he was in your homeland was gone and instead replaced with a sour expression that did nothing but show his distaste for you.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you clenched your hands in worry, momentarily allowing your gaze to drop down.

“Why's he the one greeting you?” Jisung spat out, standing in front of you protectively as if attempting to shield you with his own body. Chan too stepped in front of the two of you, hand immediately reaching for the sword by his side as if preparing for the worst.

“Where is the Prince?” he spat out lowly, his voice audibly dropping an octave. Usually, this would result in the opponents quivering in their boots. Chan could be a scary man when he wanted to and he wasn't afraid to unleash his more deadly side if it meant he would adhere to his duties.

Alas, it seemed like this trick wasn't enough to scare the Crimson soldiers.

A mere chuckle left general Felix's lips as he gestured for the men around him to disperse. Once the soldiers weren't coming directly at you, Chan stepped away with a sigh, recognizing that you were no longer in imminent danger.

Unlike Chan, however, Jisung never left the spot in front of you, his hand still protectively wrapped around your waist. The glare he was giving the Crimson Land's general was pretty intense if you'd take into account that the man was several ranks higher than him and could obliterate the three of you with a single snap of his fingers.

“Jisung!” Chan whisper-shouted from next to you, tugging his younger friend's sleeve. “Stop it.”

The boy shot another nasty glare, this time in his captain's direction, making his eyes widen. Chan was about to yank him from his position when suddenly, your voice rang through the air, clear as day.

“Jisung! I appreciate your concerns, however, I need to meet with the officials of the Crimson Land. Don't forget that we're the guests setting foot in a foreign kingdom.” Your eyes met over his shoulder. Then, with a softened tone, you continued, “I'm gonna be okay, don't worry.”

Maybe it was the strong imploration in your eyes, but Chan suspected that it was more likely the fact that you gently placed your palm on his shoulders that made the young boy step back. It wasn't the first time that the young lieutenant got into a fit and had to be coaxed by you to get back in line.

As a seasoned general of the army, Felix was quite impressed by your commanding tone and by how you managed to convince what seemed like a typical low-rank brat into listening to reason. Nevertheless, he didn't let it show, instead, focused on you—the future Princess of the Crimson Land.

Right?… wrong.

“What is the meaning of this, General?” Chan suddenly spoke up, confused as to why the Prince wasn't already here greeting you and welcoming you to the palace as was customary. You may come from a poorer land than his, but still, you were a princess.

His future wife for god's sake.

“The nerve of this man,” he growled under his breath, clenching his fists. “Where is His Highness? Shouldn't he be here welcoming the Princess?”

From the tone his voice took, you could tell that Chan was losing his patience. You tried to calm him the same way you would Jisung. Unfortunately, you did not have that effect on him. Chan simply shook your hand off but took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat.

“Sadly, the Prince could not join us now. He had some other important duties he had to tend to. Fear not, His Highness's schedule has been cleared for the evening. He and the Princess may meet in the latter hours of the day.”

“What other duties could he have that are more important than meeting the Princess?!” Jisung scoffed, folding his hands over his chest to show his distaste. He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, sending another glare to the General. The man looked quite… young for his age, and Jisung couldn't help but realize that he must be really skilled to have earned the general's title in his early twenties. Hell, the man looked like he was younger than Chan!

“Now,” Felix continued, “I believe it is my duty to show the Princess around the palace.”

. ˚✧・* •

You would think that Felix was relishing in the way you cowered as you were made to follow him around the palace. Behind every corner, crook, and cabinet, there were at least half a dozen of maids or other palace staff gossiping about you.

“I heard that she begged for His Highness to marry her! She's only after his fortune ”

“Supposedly, she stole food from the food supply, letting her own people go hungry!”

“They say she has an awful temper and hits her own maids!”

“Don't mind them,” he rumbled, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. “It's just idle gossip. They don't have anything else to talk about.”

‘Yeah sure,’ you thought. As if he wasn't smirking at the prospect of your humiliation. He had all the power to order them to stop, yet he let the rumors spread like wildfire instead, leaving you to walk over the scorching trail of embarrassment.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, almost as if trying to create a shield between you and their hurtful words, you let out a muffled whimper.

“H-How did these rumors even spread? I never did anything of this sort…”

The General smirked, his head turning away from you as he gazed at the lush gardens of the palace. “That, Princess, I wonder too…”

. ˚✧・* •

The clock struck seven when the maids were tightening your dress. It had been almost three hours since you'd arrived at the palace. General Felix took you on a lengthy tour of the kingdom's grounds and showed you to your chambers.

Despite feeling sad and lonely, there was no denying how beautiful the Crimson Land was. From the majestic palm trees lining the path to the main gate to the Palace itself, you were still in awe.

How could a building look so beautiful, like it was taken straight from The Tales From the Thousand and One Nights?

You wondered if the Prince was beautiful too… it was no secret that Lee Minho was considered one of the most attractive princes to have graced the face of Earth. The tales of his beauty and intellect reached even the most secluded corners of the Azure Land. Yet these whispers shared amongst the people were also filled with anecdotes of his cruelty and apathy.

You knew more than to believe baseless rumors spread by servants, but the story of his older brother's brutal death was one that everyone knew by heart. It was supposedly this tragic event that caused the Prince's heart to turn into ice…

A loud knock could be heard as the maids secured the last hairpin into your hair.

“Come in,” you stated, praying that your voice wasn't quivering. You fiddled with the hems of your delicately sewn sleeves, attempting to keep the anxiety at bay.

A young man, somewhere around your age, entered the chambers with an unrolled piece of parchment. “The General request your presence in ten minutes. He will accompany you to meet His Highness.”

The way he addressed you informally wasn't lost on you, yet you didn't even find it in you to bother getting angry. Instead, you nodded, gathering the heaps of your skirts before standing up.

You followed the boy into the upper floor of the palace, immediately noticing the sudden change in setting. Although never too pressed on luxury and the way your sleeping quarters looked, it was pretty hard to miss how much more lavish and decorated this floor was. Despite this sudden discovery, you tried to stop the inevitable train of thought that you were building up to.

Perhaps you were kept on the other floor for… security reasons.

Yeah… it was bullshit… you knew. And since you were already self-conscious enough about the deal, it made it even worse.

‘Don't dwell on it, Y/N,’ you whispered to yourself as you were strolling down the hall. ‘There's nothing you can do…’

Swiftly, one of the mahogany doors burst open, General Felix walking out of the room clad in his finest robes. His platinum hair was slicked back and held up by a single hairpin, giving him a more mature and aged look. He gave you his signature smirk (one that promised no good), nodding to the man who brought you and dismissing him promptly.

“Follow me, Princess.”

Hoping to keep up with the General's fast pace, you sped up slightly, the heels of your expensive crystal shoes clicking against the marble floor.

Suddenly, the man stilled, his steps coming to a halt. You squeaked, almost bumping into him, but luckily, you managed to stop right before making contact with his body, dodging the first of many bullets that were to come at you.

“His Majesty is in the last chamber on your left. No need to knock, you can simply walk straight in. He has been anticipating you for the entire evening.”

Taking a deep breath, you start walking towards the door, unclenching your hands that were balled into fists. ‘This is it,’ you thought. ‘I'm finally going to meet the Prince… my future husband.’

Even simply hearing the word itself made you unconsciously shudder, unsure of how to feel about this.

The dark, oak doors to His Majesties chambers were rather plain, you noticed. Unlike the Generals', there were no golden plaques or anything lavish that would point to the crown Prince living there.

You couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.

Heeding general Felix's advice, you reach for the door handle. Fingers tightly gripping at the cold metal, you felt chills run down your spine as you opened the door, walking straight into a lavishly decorated room.

The shelves were filled with artifacts and scrolls, some of them looking more than two hundred years old. A thick aroma of rose and patchouli wafted through your nostrils, attacking your senses. A loud cough tore from your throat as you covered your mouth in hopes of blocking any more of the scent. It felt like you just inhaled a bottle of the most precious bath oils.

Taking a few more steps, you found yourself standing in front of a silk curtain. Looking back, maybe you should've realized that the entire setting was rather… unusual. Later that evening, you would curse yourself for not realizing sooner.

You blamed it on the giddiness from meeting the Prince, or perhaps it was a morbid sort of curiosity that led you to tug at the curtain which revealed…

The crown Prince changing?!?!

A gasp left your parted lips, alerting him of your immediate presence. You were met with a handsome man in his early twenties, clad in form-fitting trousers and a shirt half pulled over his torso. His toned chest gleamed back on you, lingering droplets of water gliding down the smooth planes of pale skin.

A loud cough made you jerk, realizing that you were staring at the Prince who was currently half-naked.

The Prince.

When that last bit sunk in, you yelped, hastily covering your eyes to block your view of the man.

“I-I… I'm-m sorry, Your Highness. I d-didn't mean to—”

Pulling down his silk shirt, the Prince's lips were tugged into a tight line as he watched you fumble with your words, arms crossing over his chest. Though he managed to conceal it, your intrusion managed to throw him off. A smirk appeared at the corner of his lips when he spotted how flustered you were.

Sensing that you weren't going to finish your sentence anytime soon, Minho waited for a couple of seconds, just to make sure, before he started walking away, completely ignoring your presence—as if you weren't even there.

You almost cowered under his menacing aura.

As you watched the back of your future husband turn on you, a sudden pang in your chest made you do the unthinkable: you reached out and grabbed his arm.

The way he stopped in his tracks made your heart beat like crazy, and for a second, you almost forgot how to breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, his lips finally parted as he uttered a sentence that would haunt you for the coming days.

“Let go.”

. ˚✧・* •

After the rather embarrassing encounter with Prince Minho, you ran out of the room in tears, barely managing to hold in your sobs. Out of all the ways you could've met him for the first time, you had to walk in on him while he was changing (courtesy of general Felix—that man really must hate your guts).

Since you heard all the horrible rumors about him, you had hoped you could at least make a good first impression. Hell, even decent would be fine. Well, as always, fate throws fortune, but not everyone catches.

The way you're running down the hall feels most improper.

You're holding your robes high, so as not to trip over them, and waterfalls of tears are streaming down your face. Perhaps you were overreacting… no—scratch that—you were overreacting, no doubt.

You couldn't find proper reasoning for this onslaught of emotions. Was it caused by all the recent stress surrounding the engagement? Or perhaps the fact that you were anticipating this moment, imagining in your head how this exact meeting would go.

Wiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand, you sobbed.

“Why… w-why me?”

As you turned around the corner, you were too preoccupied with your current situation to pay attention to your surroundings. You didn't notice the person walking ahead until it was too late.

“Ouch!” you whimpered when you bumped into a sturdy chest, rough hands reaching to steady you at your waist. “You okay?”

Raising your head slowly, you stood up upright, coming face to face with Jisung. His sparkling orbs scanned over your face, taking in the redness of your eyes and your tear-soaked cheeks.

He looked as if he was going to say something, yet instead, he bit down on his lip, holding in whatever angry exclamation that was forming at the tip of his tongue. He shouldn't raise his voice… not when you were so visibly shaken.

“What's the matter, Princess?”

His voice was laced with concern, perhaps a smidgen of anger, and it almost made you choke on your sobs. Your fingers deftly gripped onto the sleeves of his coat as you tried to calm your breathing. His arms felt so warm and inviting that you almost wanted to burry yourself into his chest and forget about everything that just happened.

Carefully peeling your eyes from the ground, you gazed into his, blinking away the tears as you shook your head, letting him know you didn't want to talk about it. Instead, you lurched forward, whispering, “please… just hold me.”

Jisung almost felt his heart snap when he heard you utter those words, holding onto his last bits of restraint like a man thrown overboard would onto a wooden plank. Bending over, the young lieutenant slid his hands under your knees picking you up bridal style.

“Let's go somewhere more private.”

. ˚✧・* •

Turns out that the Crimson Palace offered plenty of nooks and crannies perfect for late-night talks.

“Please… stop it, Jisung. It's embarrassing…” you whined, swatting his hand away. He had been pestering you for the past few minutes to tell him what happened. After he scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the east wing of the palace, Jisung spent almost an hour simply holding you close, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back and caressing your hair.

His comforting touch allowed you to calm down and unwind, an effect he's had you since childhood.

“We've known each other since we were kids,” he exclaimed. “Whatever it is, I won't think you're embarrassing. Plus, I need to find whoever hurt you and give them a piece of my mind!”

You stifled a chuckle. “Geez, good luck with that. I heard that the Prince is an excellent swordsman.”

Jisung spluttered, eyes bulging out of his skull. “The Prince made you cry?! Goddamn, does he have no shame? I'm going to—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, you cut in with a shy giggle, placing your palm on his shoulder. “It's okay, Ji. honestly, I can't even blame him. You know… it was me who walked in on him while he was changing. He must've been just as taken aback as I was,” you sighed.

“Still—” Jisung whined, a pout appearing on his lips, “—he had no business being so mean to you. And that snake Felix!” he exclaimed, anger returning to his tone. “What's his deal?”

A few minutes passed, the two of you sitting on the balcony and enjoying the sunset as the golden hues mixed with the pink ones, creating a wonderful pallet on the sky. Jisung's arm slowly progressed from being propped against the cold marble to securing its (rightful, in his opinion) position around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

Inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, you let your aching body relax, almost melting into his hold. His warm, protective hold, the only one that reminded you of how a mother would hold her child. You always felt safe in his arms.

A sudden ache in your stomach made you realize how hungry you were. Your lips curled into a pout as you exhaled, making Jisung turn around. “You're hungry?”

“Jisung—” you dragged out the last syllable of his name in a teasing way, just like you did when you two were kids. “How could you tell? I was just thinking about getting something to eat.”

The boy chuckled, glancing down before gazing back into your eyes. “I've known you for ages, Princess. I know the face you make when you're hungry, when you're tired, when you're annoyed. I was practically raised to guard you and make sure you're satisfied at all times.”

His tone took a rather nostalgic sound and you swallowed thickly at all the fond memories you've shared with him. “I suppose that's true. Nobody understands me like you do, Jisung.”

“Right? The two of us are perfect for each other!”

Suddenly, your throat felt oddly dry. You were perfectly aware of what Jisung was getting at with this statement, his true intentions clear as the sky on a summer night. And perhaps it was fate that brought you together yet again as Jisung gazed into your eyes, a loving smile across his lips.

Then, quickly, as if he was afraid he would lose the courage, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It all happened in a flash, Jisung's arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, your hands sliding into his hair, gripping onto the locks tightly—as if your life depended on it.

Your head was spinning, the air around you heavy, and the only thing you could pay attention to was Jisungs warm lips molding against yours. It was almost like the world around you stopped spinning, everything—including your surroundings—forgotten in favor of the man in front of you.

It was intoxicating, addicting, heated—like a hot summer evening—and you melted into his embrace like the tip of an iceberg fighting against the last rays of the Sun.

Suddenly, a loud clank could be heard, one akin to someone dropping a heavy object. You and Jisung immediately separated from each other, fear written in both of your eyes. His palm pressed against his mouth, fingers caressing his lips as if he still couldn't believe what he was done.

“Shit!” he whispered. “What have we done?”

This was wrong. Everything that just happened was wrong. How could you have allowed him to kiss you? If anyone saw you, you were done for…

“Y-Y/N–” Jisung stuttered, tears materializing at the corners of his eyes. “I'm s-so sorry… I swear I didn't mean to—I have no idea what came over me–”

“–Jisung,” you cut in, realizing that he was about to spiral. Jisung always put up this tough persona, pretending that he was okay and nothing bothered him, but over the years, you've learned to tell when he was in one of those moods. Push and pull, like the tides of the ocean, your understanding of each other was a two-way street, reliant on how the two of you experienced the presence of the other.

“What happened right now was certainly…” you took a deep breath, just a step too close to freaking out. “Improper. Neither of us should have engaged in such acts. As such, we should never ever speak of it, understood?”

You peered at him from under your lashes, hoping to coax more than just an empty stare from him. Luckily, the boy swallowed thickly, but nonetheless nodded, focusing his entire attention on you.

“That's not to say though that I didn't enjoy the kiss.” You grabbed his hand in yours, shyly looking away. “There's a reason I reciprocated, Jisung. Make no mistake.”

The look he gave you was almost as painful as the expression he made when he first heard that you would be moving away. Like a man starved of his deepest, darkest desires. By telling him that you felt these feelings, these tender emotions reserved for people in love, you were letting him know that although he scored in the first alley (by winning your love), there were other circumstances that would prevent the two of you from taking your relationship anywhere further.

He would have to watch you wed, not to mention he would have to be present during the ceremony. And that's not to say that he wasn't capable of being happy for you—he was, but there was a small seed of doubt that was planted in his mind before you even left your kingdom.

Would you be truly happy?

Or rather, would Prince Minho make you happy?

The tales and rumors that surrounded the… cold-hearted nature of the Prince were known to all. In the back of his mind, Jisung had already performed an assessed judgment of Minho and his entire persona. And he came to a very simple conclusion.

That bastard did not deserve you.

A sudden fluttery motion materialized in the corner of his eye—you were waving your hand in front of him, hoping to catch his attention.

“We should go.” The words fell from his mouth in a quick breath as he shot up, grabbing your hand and running towards the direction of your bed chambers.

“Wait, Jisung!” You exclaimed, trying to shake off his much too powerful grip on your wrist. It was no use—as a trained guard, he was leaps stronger than you and your pleas fell on deaf ears. “Calm down, please.”

“I can't, Y/N. I'm sorry, I've dishonored you. It's my duty to bring you to your chambers as quickly as possible—that's the least I can do.”

A choked sob leaves your throat. But you know that he's right—all that's left for you to do is pray that no one saw you. Relaxing into his grip, you allow the lieutenant to walk you in front of your door.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he whispered, giving you a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Goodnight, Ji…”

. ˚✧・* •

“What were you thinking?!”

Chan's voice rang loud and clear, cutting through the crisp morning air. The Captain measured his subordinate with a bewildered glare, fumes almost seeping from the top of his head.

When he saw the way Jisung nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, eyes cast downwards, something tugged at his heartstrings, making his gaze soften.

“Jisung,” his tone was now calmer and quieter, barely above a whisper. “Why did you do that?”

The younger boy snorted, “Out of all the things you could've asked me, I never expected you would ask that.”

Chan raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You're not gonna say anything? I expected you would have at least a proper excuse.” When Jisung stayed silent, he sighed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, “Why did you kiss her?”

“You know the answer to that just as well as I do. Don't make me say it out loud…”

He sounded broken, like some higher power sucked all the life out of him, leaving only a shell of his former being behind. And Chan hated it. He hated how things had to pan out. He hated himself for not realizing that something like that was bound to happen.

He watched the two of you grow up, side by side. Like two peas in a pod. Jisung and Y/N. the princess and her guard. The two of you spent all your free time together, getting into all sorts of trouble. Chan wanted to kick himself for not putting an end to this fairytale love story before it got out of hand.

Another thought raced through his mind. “Did anyone see you?”

The way Jisung avoided his gaze made it perfectly clear.

. ˚✧・* •

The next morning, you woke up to the birds chirping outside your window. The view from your chamber was so idyllic you almost forgot the events of yesterday evening.

Slipping from under the covers, a loud pounding in your head made you stumble as you whimpered, steadying your hand against the wall. For the first time in months, you placed your hand against your head, closing your eyes as the ice began to cool you down.

You hated using your powers.

They reminded you of all the horrid events in your life, all the things you wanted to leave behind. Yet for some reason, you only felt relief. Like the familiar feeling of ice crystals seeping from the tips of your fingers reminded you of the few happy memories you shared with your parents.

Paddling towards the heavy door, you pushed it open, peeping down the nearly empty hallway. Suddenly, the smell of freshly baked rolls and the sweetest fruit wafted through your nose, making you sigh in delight. It had been ages since you last ate, and the loud grumble of your stomach made you realize that fetching some breakfast wouldn't be so bad after all…

You followed the delicious scent of food down one of the more secluded halls until you reached a heavy mahogany door. The sight made you shudder as you remembered yesterday's events. Luckily for you, the Prince was likely dining in the main dining room, and not in the small, hidden corner of the east wing. Using all your strength, you pushed against the door.

And curse your luck cause once again, you ended up face to face with Prince Minho.

Sweat broke out on your forehead as you took a step back, ready to run out the door and disappear.

“Good morning, Princess,” the General's voice drawled, making your skin crawl. The smirk painted across his lips made you want to throw up, remembering how he purposefully made you walk in on Minho just so that you'd leave a bad impression.

“M-Morning. I'm really s-sorry, I didn't mean to i-interrupt—”

“—nonsense. You're not interrupting, am I right, Your Majesty?”

Minho scowled, redirecting his attention back to the vegetable omelet that lay in front of him.

“I should probably go–” you whispered, reaching for the door handle. The air in the room was thick and heavy, weighing down on you uncomfortably.

“Stay. I'm sure the Prince would like to hear about your first day in his kingdom. Right?” Felix nudged the man, feigning innocence.

“Whatever, Lee. I'll be leaving soon, anyway.”

The general looked back at you, flashing you a bright smile. “It's settled then. Please help yourself.”

Metaphorically backed into a corner, there was nothing left for you to do, other than accept his (insincere) offer. A sigh escaped your lips as you sat down, smoothing the hem of your silk nightgown, suddenly feeling insecure. Had you known that you would dine with him, you would've dressed more appropriately.

“So, Y/N, do you mind telling us how your first day went?” Felix piped while gracefully cutting his pancakes into manageable pieces and dipping them in honey. You couldn't help but notice the dangerous glint in his eyes, a shiver running down your spine.

“It went rather well, although, I didn't really get to explore much of the palace.” You proclaimed, bitting down on a piece of fresh fruit. “I was hoping I could get to go outside and see the villagers too—you know—to get acquainted with the people.”

A smug smile appeared on Felix's face as he pretended that you piqued his interest. “Well, I'm sure that you got to explore other things last night, am I right?”

Your brow shot up, not understanding what he was getting at when suddenly, it hit you. The color drained from your face as you put together two and two, realizing what he meant. Felix noticed the sudden change of attitude, smiling proudly as he took yet another jab at you.

When you make no efforts to explain, he continued, “I am curious though, where did you go after meeting His Majesty?”

The heat rose to your cheeks as you stumbled to answer him without saying anything suspicious.

“I-I was looking for the way back to my bed chambers, but due to my limited knowledge of the palace, I got lost.”

Another snicker. “And did someone, perhaps help you find your way?”

“Y-Yeah… I met one of my guards and he escorted me back to my room.”

“I see. You must be really grateful to have met him, Princess. So grateful that you—”

“Enough!”

Minho's voice sounded much too irritated as he cut his General off before he managed to say anything else. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what this meant. He knew. He knew exactly what happened between the two of you and he wasn't happy about it.

“Felix, I think we should allow the Princess some privacy. The meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

You allowed yourself to nervously peer at Minho through your lashes, instantly regretting your decision. When your eyes met, there was so much anger and hostility in them that you shuddered.

“It was very nice talking to you,” Felix winked as he and the Prince walked out, leaving you to drown in your sorrows.

The sound of the door slamming echoed in your head.

. ˚✧・* •

The branches fluttered in the wind, flapping from one side to another, guided by the howling air. You sat perched on one of the benches deep in the gardens, hidden from view.

For the past few days, you roamed around the palace, trying your best to stay hidden from Prince Minho and Jisung.

Steering clear of the Prince proved to be a rather easy task—there was no reason for you to want to spend time with him and vice versa. But avoiding Jisung… that ended up being a lot more difficult than you initially anticipated.

Not that the two of you crossed paths that often, rather, it was the strong pang of guilt in your heart whenever you passed him. Whether he was sparring, practicing, or patrolling the palace grounds with Chan, your heart would break at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes and the generally lifeless energy he exuded.

Little by little, the loneliness slowly got to you, devouring you like a deadly plague until nothing was left. The darkness consumed you in its entirety, and with no one to turn to, you felt like it was you against the world.

The dark clouds in the sky were a perfect visualization of how you currently felt.

Speaking of clouds, you could tell that a storm was coming, thunder beginning to rumble in the background. There was no use sitting like a duck and getting wet.

Gathering the hefty skirts of your azure robe, you stood up, dusting off the dirt from your hands. A heavy raindrop fell from the sky, splattering against your skin. With a sigh, you picked up your pace, running towards the main gate.

. ˚✧・* •

You learned that spending hours at the library isn't something one can just stop doing.

Well, to be fair, there wasn't much for you to do, other than burying your nose in a book, but it still brought back many cherished memories from your childhood. Before the accident. Before all your troubles. Back when your biggest concern was when the sequel of your favorite series would arrive.

The action itself held no real value to you, but it was the idea it represented. It allowed you to pretend that you were just another person in academia, studying to make something of yourself. There was no pressure to be perfect, to marry, to listen to your husband.

It was just you and the bulky, leather-bound tomes. The scrolls made out of quality parchment that smelled like home. Just you and the scent of fresh ink.

The book that was currently perched up on your lap was rather interesting.

“The Crimson Clan; Tales from the Depths and Crevices of the Most Prosperous Nation”

Despite its somewhat… jarring name, the contents of it were rather straightforward and simple. Everything you'd possibly want to know about your new homeland was in here. The foundation, history, and rebirth of this thriving land—all were explained in the most thorough of details.

You even found yourself smiling while reading through the chapter on festivities and celebrations. It stirred something within you, to know that these people were fortunate enough to have so much to celebrate.

Ignoring the slight pang of jealousy in your heart—one caused by the unfortunate circumstances of your war-stricken, poverty-afflicted nation—it allowed you to feel something you haven't felt in a long time.

Something dangerous... Hope.

An emotion you had long given up on after seeing your land in ruins and your people in pain. You cursed yourself for allowing something that could threaten the alliance to even happen.

It seemed like there was no chance for the Crown prince to love you—which hurt you more than you admitted to yourself—but it didn't matter. Marriage out of love was rare anyway. So in hopes of preserving the deal, you decided that you would try your best to win the favor of Lee Minho.

Sans love, romance, or affection.

You would make sure that you'd see this treaty to the end.

. ˚✧・* •

The wind tonight was light and breezy, like a whiff of fresh peonies on a spring morning.

After many days of locking yourself in the library, your joints were aching, leading you to believe that you deserved a bit of a break.

You spent the better half of the week reading through many volumes of the ‘The Crimson Clan’ series, learning everything there was to know about your new homeland. It was certainly difficult, more difficult than you first imagined it to be, but after hours spent cramped in the corner of the library, things were starting to look up.

The unfamiliar words and phrases were starting to clear up, having read them enough times to learn their true meanings. The unusual ways of the nation inked on the pages were beginning to make sense after you understood a little bit of how they were thinking, and the festivals and celebrations were becoming more comprehensible as you read of their origins.

You even kept a small notebook by your side at all times, jotting down the new words you've learned and organizing your thoughts and opinions.

A loud growl of your stomach made panic, looking around in fear that someone saw you. It was rather stupid—there was no one around—but the dread of someone seeing you in such an… unladylike state made you tremble.

Fortunately—just as you predicted—no one was around to witness the embarrassing sounds of your stomach. And maybe this was a sign that you should take a break, and perhaps, get something small to eat.

There's a light bounce to your step as you walk down the empty halls, humming a tune you heard the royal quartet play. The birds were chirping and the weather was lovely—making you suddenly regret that you spent the past days holed up in the library.

“What do you think you're doing?!”

The loud scream had you stopping in your tracks. What was going on?

“I-I'm s-so sorry. I-I was told to c-collect a-all the laundry. P-Please, don't p-punish me,” Came the answer in a much quieter voice.

Turning around the corner, you found a small group of people crowded around two; a servant and a guard. Immediately, you could tell that the guard was threatening the young girl, as she was backed into a corner, eyes wide as a laundry basket lay discarded by her feet.

“How dare you go through my drawers without permission?” he barked, ears turning red in fury. The girl only took a step back, quivering as she realized she hit the wall. “I won't let this slide!”

“Enough!”

All eyes were on you as you walked up to the guard, fuming. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Y-Your Majesty—” he stuttered, anger slowly dissipating, “I was only chastising this, this foolish maid for going through my room!”

You shook your head. “There's no reason for you to yell at her like that for such a simple mistake. You could've explained what she did wrong without scaring her like that.”

You gestured for the girl to come to you, sanding in front of her protectively. Giving her a smile, you remarked, “If he ever gives you any trouble, come to me immediately.”

The man's face turned beet red in embarrassment as he looked down at his feet. “And you, if I ever hear that you're bothering her, you'll be on laundry duty for the next week!”

There was a loud chorus of laughter that followed and the people around you slowly started to scatter, leaving only you and the young maid. She looked to be a few years younger than you.

“T-Thank you, Your Majesty,” she bowed, shyly looking away.

“It's okay. Assholes have to be put in their place, right?”

She didn't laugh.

Embarrassed by your little joke not landing well, you reached out to gently pat her hair. “What's your name?”

“Yuna.”

She was still shaken up, you could tell by her closed-off stance. “Well, Yuna, I think you were very brave today. I'm really sorry you had to go through this, please don't hesitate to reach out to me if anything like that happens again.”

With a wave of your hand, you saw her off, smiling widely as you walked down the hall.

. ˚✧・* •

“Your Majesty—” you ignored the calls of the young servant, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “I'm fine, don't worry.”

“Please, Your Majesty… you've done nothing else than reorganize these scrolls for the past few days! You have to rest…”

“No, I'm fine, don't worry. I'm glad to be of some use.”

You moved another section of scrolls and loose leaves of parchment down on the floor, wiping down the shelf with a wet rag. After making sure the surface was perfectly clean, you picked up the scrolls, reorganizing them on the shelves by date and topic.

While doing so, you've also managed to learn more about the kingdom, familiarizing yourself with its history. These ancient scrolls provided you with much more information than the books you read.

The afternoon sun was shining down on you through the large, open windows. The light cotton blinds were no longer enough to protect you from its wrath.

“Maybe it really is time for a break,” You mumbled, dizziness slowly taking over you. You wiped down your forehead with a wetted cloth, swiping over your face and cooling yourself down.

You've been in here for… seven hours already…

. ˚✧・* •

“What?!” The Crown Prince shouted, slamming his fist on the table. His eyes were sharp and focused, glaring down at the poor messenger that was quivering in his boots.

“I'm afraid t-that's all I know, Your Majesty. We've been told that a rebel group has infiltrated our lands. We're currently awaiting more information regarding the size of the group and how far they've reached.”

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped the Prince's mouth as he slumped back in his seat, rubbing his temples. The palace was already in chaos after the arrival of the Crown Princess, and this was slowly becoming more than he could handle.

The messenger scurried away after being dismissed.

Before the Prince could even take a breath, another knock on the door made him roll his eyes.

“Come in!”

“Your Majesty,” the old man bowed. Minho immediately glanced up after recognizing him as the man he appointed to watch over you. “Has there been any development?”

The man, face aged by war, pressed his lips into a thin line before pulling out a piece of parchment. His fingers deftly worked to undo the knot on the string, sighing when the parchment finally unrolled.

“There haven't been any interesting sightings of Her Majesty. Every day, she wakes up and eats breakfast before walking to the library. There, she reads through an impressive amount of chapters on the history of our land, takes some notes, and walks back to her chambers where she orders a light dinner.”

The old man paused, looking the Prince in the eye before continuing, “Recently, she has been spotted going to the ancient scroll room instead of the library. A servant told me that she insist on cleaning the room and reorganizing all the scrolls.”

Minho cut the man off, “—Who has she been ordering to clean the room?”

“No one. She insists on doing everything herself, Your Majesty.”

The Prince audibly groaned at the revelation. After what happened, he had wished for you to give him a reason to hate you, but so far, you'd given him none. Instead, you made guilt blossom in his chest by behaving like a responsible future queen a king could only wish for.

So far, you've kept to yourself and educated yourself on the kingdom's history and its traditions. You didn't abuse your power and outright refused help unless it was absolutely necessary.

Running a hand through his hair, he questioned, “Were there any, uh, any incidents? Anything unusual?”

“No, Your Majesty. Her Majesty hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. Although—”

“—although what?” he immediately latched onto his words, ears perked in interest.

“I've had several accounts from servants and other palace staff that Her Majesty got into a quarrel with one of the guards.”

Minho was hanging on his lips, listening intently. He ran a hand through his hair, sipping from his goblet.

“It appears that the guard was verbally harassing one of the new maids. Her Majesty was just around the corner so she stepped in, putting an end to the fight and telling the guard off.”

Minho felt like banging his head against the wall.

Why were you so kind? So perfect? It gave him a headache just thinking about all the things you've done since you arrived. He was hoping that during this period of separation, he would catch you doing something improper, something that would give him a reason to cancel the treaty and subsequently, cancel your engagement, thus annulling your arranged marriage.

But so far, all you've done was for the benefit of others. You have proved yourself to be a kind and intelligent person, which were exactly the traits he would've been looking for in his future Queen.

When he realized that the old man was still standing by his desk, he cleared his throat, “You can go now, thank you.”

Bowing, the man hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving the Prince to drown in his sorrows, consumed by guilt.

. ˚✧・* •

Later that evening, you found yourself in your bed chamber after a long day. Your muscles were aching from standing on a ladder and cleaning all day. Upon entering through the door, something rather strange caught your attention.

There, on your bed, lay a beautiful red gown with golden stitching. Your eyes bulged out of your skull as you took in the gorgeous article of clothing. It was the prettiest dress you've ever seen.

As you took a step closer to admire the garment, you noticed a small folded piece of paper attached to the front of the dress. Skillfully, you pull it out and unfold it, scanning over the message written in neat cursive.

Dear Princess Y/N,

I know we haven't gotten off on the right foot, and I'm aware that I too am partially to blame for that. It has been brought to my attention that you spend every day in the library reading or cleaning the scroll room. As such, I was hoping I could invite you to a proper dinner (hence the dress ;).

When you are free, please stop by my chambers. I would love to arrange a proper date with you.

Sincerely, Lee Minho

. ˚✧・* •

Your heart was beating loudly as you stopped in front of the heavy doors. The handle was platted in gold and the wood was carved with beautiful ornaments, reminding you of the front gate of the palace. You gently pick up the metallic ring and bang it against the door.

“Come in,” Came the muffled reply.

As you nervously walk into the room, you feel like your skin is on fire. Fear clouds your eyes as you worry about the unknown. How would he react once he saw you?

When you found the ruby dress in your chambers, it felt like your heart did a 180. Touched by the kind gesture, you almost allowed yourself to fantasize about all the what-ifs. What if Lee Minho actually cared for you? What if he wanted to spend time with you? These questions were running through your mind like a whirlwind, further confusing your already unstable heart.

When the Prince comes into view, you almost felt the blood freeze in your veins. Clad in a fitting robe with gold fastenings, accentuating his broad shoulders and impeccable physique, you couldn't help but swoon at his beauty.

His trimmed locks were parted in the middle, framing his handsome face. Against the pale complexion of his skin, his rich, chocolate eyes stood out, peering at you with an intensity that brings Chan's infamous glare to shame.

Too busy nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt, you didn't notice the way his gentle smile fell, turning into a frown.

You were anxious.

Not only that—to Minho's dismay, you looked like you haven't slept in days. The circles under your eyes were prominent, and the way your muscles tensed made his heart shatter.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

The question caught you off guard, but not as much as the soft tone of his voice. He sounded almost…. Concerned?

Your eyes fluttered, giving away just how much you needed some shut-eye as you whispered, “Not really, Your Majesty…”

He expected you to elaborate, but you didn't, leaving him unsure of what his next steps should be.

“You can call me Minho,” he paused, letting the words sink in. When they did, your eyes parted wide, taken off guard by something that should've been so insignificant but held so much significance to you.

‘You can call me Minho’

That sentence played over in your head like a mantra. “Minho,” you breathed out, barely above a whisper. The name was so known, yet still seemed so unfamiliar. It rolled off of your tongue with strange, child-like anticipation. Like it held something deeper.

The Prince smiled upon hearing you call him by his first name. Like honey, it sounded so sweet when said by you.

“Due to our predicament, I think it would be rather foolish for us to stay exceedingly formal with each other, don't you agree?”

Your heart was beating loudly against your ribcage as you squeaked, “You can call me Y/N, too.”

“Great,” he smiled, “I'm glad we're on the same page, love.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks almost made you want to hide your face in embarrassment. Minho chuckled at the adorable sight, fighting the urge to reach out and pat your hair. His smile only grew when you carefully glanced at him from under your lashes.

“I'll arrange for Seungmin, our healer, to come to visit you,” he muttered, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. “I'm sure he can recommend something for you to sleep better, perhaps some herbal tea…”

The two of you talked for a few more minutes. The Prince kept asking you questions regarding your schedule, what you did during the day, and if you had any idea what caused your sleep problems. You tried to answer him to the best of your abilities, occasionally staring off into space as you wondered what caused him to make such a 180 personality-wise.

Placing the parchment into a drawer and slamming it shut, Minho faced you, giving you his full attention. A coy smile played on his lips when he remarked, “About dinner… does next Friday sound good?”

. ˚✧・* •

Anger.

That's all that was on Felix's mind as he strolled down the hall, trying to get away from Minho's chambers. He was sick, sick to his stomach from the conversation he just overheard.

‘Love.’

He wanted to barf. What did you do to cause Minho to behave like that? The general barely recognized his longtime friend in that short conversation between the two of you that he eavesdropped on. Why was he so smitten? Did you manage to seduce him?

It truly wasn't like him to behave like that, Felix concluded, and he was gonna make sure he helped his friend see the light again.

. ˚✧・* •

Your shoulders scraped against the wall as you leaned on it, breathing in to catch your breath. The air suddenly felt thick and heavy as you struggled to calm your nerves. Maybe you should really catch a break?

But there was still so much for you to do… the piles upon piles of books, scrolls, and other artifacts were hard evidence of that.

And much to your dismay, you still haven't been sleeping well, meaning that the exhaustion was slowly getting to you. Your limbs were aching and your entire body felt rather stiff.

“Damn it,” you groaned, sliding down the wall till you were sitting on the freezing marble floor.

“Your Majesty.” A sudden knock echoed through the room, your eyes immediately shooting up towards the door. “Come in,” you reply.

A young girl came scurrying inside the room with a golden tray. She placed it on the table, positioning the tea kettle and the teacup next to a small pile of paper.

“This is the herb tea sent by head healer Seungmin as per His Majesties request.”

“Oh, right. Thank you so much!” you beamed, shooting up and walking towards the table. The maid poured a generous amount of the liquid into the cup, handing it to you with a slight bow.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

Bringing the porcelain cup to your lips, you inhaled the fresh, fruity scent, sighing at how pleasant it smelled. With a relaxed smile playing on your lips, you sipped the warm beverage, enjoying how it heated you from the inside, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

While reading about the kingdom, you noticed that a lot of the authors mentioned the complicated system of the land's foreign trade policy. Despite the fact that you read many books on the topic, it quickly became quite obvious that they only touched the surface of the complex system.

That's why you decided to schedule a meeting with one of the advisors of the royal court, a man named Hwang Hyunjin. You've heard many things about him, from his socialite, flirty nature to his love for pies.

It's the reason were in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist as you sifted the dry ingredients into a bowl. After that, you cracked a few eggs into the mixture, stirring it till you had a dough-like consistency.

All and all, it took you about an hour till the pie was finally in the oven. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, you smiled at the sight of your creation. It may have not been the nicest looking pie you've laid your eyes on, but you were proud nonetheless.

Once it was done, you pulled it out with a pair of oven mitts. Excitement washed over you—it smelled exquisite—and you were ready to present it to the self-proclaimed pie man of the city.

. ˚✧・* •

The wind was light and breezy, tousling his hair as he stood on the balcony, bending down over the railing. From the corner of his eye, he saw you, walking through the garden in your outdoor cloak, smiling from ear to ear. In your hand, you held a box, and he could only guess what was inside.

Jeongin—one of the guards you've befriended during your stay—greeted you with a tip of his hat as you passed the gate. You grinned at him in return, commenting on something that made the boy visibly blush, looking away shyly.

Despite only watching you from afar, Minho couldn't help but smile softly. Every day, his heart seemed to yearn for you more than before.

And Lee Minho was a man of principles… he followed his heart.

. ˚✧・* •

The night had fallen. In the sky, countless stars were shimmering like scattered moondust and glimmering like lost beacons of hope.

The meeting with Hyunjin went rather well if you could say, and you left his house feeling like you've learned a lot. Despite his flirty nature, he seemed to have known that there was a certain line he shouldn't cross, given that you were to be wed to the Prince, so he only allowed himself to occasionally wink at you, gloating over the bashful smiles you gave him.

“You make a lovely baker, Princess,” he complimented, eating another spoonful of the pie. You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you.”

Once you arrived back at the palace, you slipped into your silk nightgown, sighing at the cool sensation that spread over your body. You weren't used to such fine materials, your kingdom being way too poor for such luxuries, but it seems like the Crimson clan had enough money on their hands to afford these expensive items.

You asked one of the maids to bring you some boiling water. Once she arrived, you pulled out the sachet of Seungmin's herbal tea and prepared the beverage.

You drank it while watching the stars from your balcony. The air was chilly and cool, the wind fanning your cheeks. As you sipped the drink, you couldn't help but feel drowsy, like you were about to fall asleep. Your mind felt foggy like it was being put to sleep which alarmed you. You were just fine earlier. What caused this?

You tried to stand up, but you were unable to, instead stumbling over your feet and falling to the ground.

On second thought, the marble floor of the balcony was pretty comfortable, you realized, as your warm cheek pressed onto the cool stone.

. ˚✧・* •

Minho was starting to grow concerned when you didn't answer after the fifth knock. Standing in front of your door impatiently, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, pondering. Should he come in?

He waited for a couple more seconds, just in case you were walking towards the door, but when nothing happened, he knocked for the final time.

“Y/N, are you okay? I'm coming in!”

Without missing a beat, he rammed his shoulder against the door using all of his strength. After the second try, the hinges finally gave out, the door bursting open and allowing Minho to run in.

“Where are you? Y/N?!”

There was alarm in his voice, and it took all of his willpower not to panic. Your bed was empty, and he noticed how it was made, the blanket neatly folded over the length of the wooden frame. You would always make your bed yourself, the maids would tell him.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he scanned the room, searching for a clue—anything, really—that could hint at your whereabouts.

If something happened to you…

Fuck. He didn't know if he could ever forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

And while he was busy muttering all the curses he knew, he caught something from the corner of his eye. A fluttering motion. Turning his head, he noticed the white curtain dancing in the evening breeze. And the curtain was leading from the balcony…

Aha!

He ran to the glass french door, immediately spotting your crumpled-up body on the cold marble. Bit by bit, he felt his heart crack at the sight. What did you deserve to be lying on the ground, passed out like that?

“Y/N,” he cried, kneeling beside you and cradling your face in his hands. He pushed the stray locks of hair out of your face, gently thumbing the apples of your cheeks.

“Oh, Y/N! What happened to you, my love?!”

The desperation in his voice was heavy, and with hooded eyes, he gently slid his hands under your frame, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. He pressed you close to his chest as he walked back inside of your room and laid you on the bed.

. ˚✧・* •

“Will she be okay?”

The healer rolled his eyes at the Prince, applying the soaked cloth on your forehead. It was the fifth time His Majesty had asked, and quite frankly, it was beginning to get on his nerves. Seungmin had just come down from a fever, so he had to step in, covering for his sick friend.

He never would've imagined the Crown Prince to have such a desperate side to him. Misery definitely didn't suit him, he decided. It wasn't a good look on him, or perhaps, it was the fact that it shattered the cold image he had created in his mind of the Prince.

“She likely just passed out due to exhaustion,” he said in a gruff tone, swiping the hair away from your forehead. “Her muscles seem tense and she hasn't been sleeping well.”

“I-I know,” Minho's voice cracked. “I hoped that the herbal tea would help…”

A beat of silence followed. “Well, I think my job here is done, Your Majesty. She should come to in a few hours,” the young healer muttered, grabbing all his belongings. “Call me if anything happens.”

The door thudded, leaving Minho alone with you in the room. The feeling of distraught crept over him, clawing at his heart as he watched you lay peacefully beneath the covers.

It was during times like these that he felt utterly useless. There was nothing he could do, and realistically, he should've accepted that. Yet there was a part of him that yearned to do something, to help you, to relieve the pain.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized something. The two of you hadn't known each other for long enough for him to know how to make you feel better. No, regrettably, he wasn't in possession of such knowledge.

Yet he knew someone who was.

His insides twisted at the thought, almost as if his gut was trying to talk him out of this. Thinking about him only made him remember his short-lived jealous streak—an emotion he didn't want to feel again.

Han Jisung. He didn't like him, far from it, he rather despised the young guard, for multiple reasons. The first one was his loud nature—mere days after the arrival of the Cerulean carriage, he was already the talk of the town. He heard at least a dozen maids giddily chirping about his supposedly gorgeous smile. It didn't help that he joined the sparring club as soon as he could, allowing a large amount of the female population the privilege of oogling his toned physique. He was the center of attention anywhere he went, winning the favor of all the palace staff.

But what irked him the most was undeniably how close he was to you. Minho knew it was childish to foster such jealousy for the guard. Despite his rather surprising self-awareness, he couldn't help but feel a prick of envy whenever he saw him, especially after hearing that the two of you made out in his palace, despite the fact that he was supposed to marry you in the near future.

In spite of all the things he listed in his head, he wasn't blind to the fact that you cared for him deeply. Just as Jisung must've cared for you. But he knew. He knew that this was the one thing he could do for you.

So despite his better judgment and the erratic beating of his heart, Minho headed out of the room in search of a person he never expect to look for in the first place.

. ˚✧・* •

To say that Jisung was confused would be the understatement of the century.

It wasn't every day that the Crown Prince came looking for you, especially if you kissed his future wife.

He entered the empty changing room, leaning his back against the wall with an unreadable expression. Jisung didn't know if he should bow or not. He decided that it would probably be improper not to, so he managed to awkwardly lower his torso, the shirt he was putting on still caught around his shoulders.

Once he was decent, a loud cough from the Prince made him look up. “I need you to follow me.”

When Minho noticed the uncertainty swarming in his eyes, he clarified, “Y/N fainted. I think she could use waking up to a familiar face.”

From then on, it was a blur. Jisung bolted out of the room like thunder, leaving Minho. Not wanting to be left behind, he ran after him, following his trail back to your bed chambers. His heart finally shattered as he watched the young guard disappear inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

. ˚✧・* •

Ever since you awoke to Jisung besides you, your heart felt just a little bit lighter. Despite the constant workload you inflicted upon yourself, there was still a void in your chest, left behind after the two of you practically cut off any sort of interactions.

It had been weird at first, but to be fair, the weirdness, or so to speak, had begun when Jisung, your best friend and guard—had kissed you, right inside the palace of your future husband.

It came as a surprise to you how easily the two of you had glossed over the initial awkwardness.

“Wait– sit down, Y/N. You shouldn't be overexerting yourself,” his hand on your shoulder pushed you back down into the covers.

“Oh please,” you groaned, “I'm fine now. I must've gotten a bit light-headed, you know, from the change of air pressure and all.”

Jisung snorted, “We both know that's bullshit, Princess.” Then he took on a much softer tone, “But even if you're feeling better now, you still should rest.”

You tsked, but in the end, you complied. You knew he meant well and you didn't want to worry him anymore. Instead, your palm reached over to his, gently encasing his hand in yours.

“I know that it's hard, but we must address the elephant in the room, Ji…”

You could feel him tense, eyes glancing anywhere but at you. He opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out, allowing the pregnant silence to envelop you. When he finally gathered his thoughts, he glanced back at you, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“I'm sorry, Y/N. I know I never should've done that,” his hand gripped tightly onto yours. You carefully watched his face, only to realize—to your unease—that he started crying. There were tears streaming down his face, leaving faint trails of moisture that glimmered under the light. You watched in horror as the sobs wracked through him, muffled sounds leaving his parted lips.

And the only thing you could do was gently rub his back, blinking to suppress any tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“Ji—” you whispered, but Jisung cut off. “—I-I'm really s-sorry. I know I've caused you a lot of pain,” he sniffled, looking away in embarrassment. “It's hard for me to f-follow boundaries without overstepping them—especially since the line between us has always been s-so blurred—but I clearly went too far.” Another sniffle. “A-And this time, m-my reckless actions had dire consequences…”

And the dam broke.

Tears were now streaming down your face like a waterfall, staining your cheeks as you whimpered, “Sungie, please…”

He understood your silent plea, hand reaching out to grab yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I'm so s-sorry,” he sniveled onto the top of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Sungie…”

After a couple of minutes of enjoying the warmth of his embrace, you pulled away from his chest. “T-This is probably the most we've ever apologized to each other,” you sniffed, a small smile appearing at the corners of your lips.

“Y-Yeah,” Jisung whispered, running his thumb down your cheek, wiping away the moisture. “My pride usually got the better of me…”

A pleasant silence settled in the air as you watched Jisung, eyes carefully following the way his facial expressions changed. He seemed unsure of himself, something you weren't necessarily used to which made you frown.

Glancing at you, Jisung noticed how intently you were watching. Grasping your hand, he worried his lower lips between his teeth before muttering, “I think Minho likes you.”

“Jisung,” your eyebrows shot up, unsure of what to make of this statement, which sounded more like a prank than anything, “what are you saying?”

A small pout appeared on his lips when he realized you didn't believe him. “I-I—”

“—Yeah?” you implored impatiently, a sudden wave of giddiness washing over you. “Why do you think that?”

“As much as I hate that snobby bastard, I couldn't help but notice that he seems to care for you all of a sudden,” Jisung muttered under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes. “He's the one who brought me here — he came running to me like a madman just to tell me that you fainted.”

“Why would that be unusual though? What if he just wanted someone else to wait with me? He probably didn't want to deal with me—” you pointed out hurriedly, not buying the whole schtick.

“S'cause he said something about you ‘wanting to wake up to a familiar face’ or whatever... Awfully cheesy, I know,” he chuckled, fidgeting with his fingers, “but he really seemed worried about you. His clothes were all disheveled and his hair was messy… he probably stayed by your side for at least a few hours.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks making you look away in embarrassment. This was all it took for you to feel like a lovestruck teenager once again. Your heart was beating inside your chest at the mere possibility of him actually caring for you.

“I should probably go—now that you're up,” Jisung stood up, dusting off his leather pants. His expression turned into a hard mask of unreadability as he walked off. “Sleep well, Sungie,” you managed to call after him before you heard the door slam shut.

The steady beating of his heart contrasted with the tears trailing down his cheeks as your last words echoed in his head.

And just like a mother hen has to part with her little ones, Jisung parted with you.

This was the end of the two of you ever sharing anything other than a platonic relationship, and with a heavy heart, he acknowledged that it was time for him to move on.

This time, for good.

. ˚✧・* •

“Minho!” you called, running down the hall in hopes of catching up to the Prince. It was past breakfast, and you were walking towards the main gate when you spotted the handsome man strolling through the corridors of the palace.

Briskly, the Prince turned around after hearing his name being called, mouth stretching into a grin when he realized it was you who was calling him.

“Good morning, Princess. How are you? I hope you're well-rested after yesterday's events.”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, stifling a yawn, “Yeah, pretty good! I'm just tired and achy but other than that, I'm perfectly fine,” you flashed him a smile.

You couldn't help but notice how his smile froze, a worried expression painting his face. “Are you alright? Should I call the head healer to make you some brew—”

“—No! It's fine,” you interrupted, not wanting him to needlessly worry. “Really, I'll be okay.”

A heavy silence engulfed you as you stood in front of the Prince, pondering over how you were going to thank him for yesterday. Finally, after a long series of deep breaths, you turned to him.

“By the way, um, I wanted to thank you for… you know… what you did yesterday.”

“What do you mean?” he inquired, placing his hand on your arm. “Oh, you know,” the heat rushed to your cheeks, making you look away shyly. “You were the one that found me, right? Jisung told me that you stayed with me for over an hour before you brought him to me…”

“Oh…”

You missed the way the apples of his cheeks turned a shade of pink, fumbling with the hem of your sleeve. “Well… I'll have to go now,” you whispered, your words barely audible. Before you could overthink your actions (which would inevitably lead to you chickening out), you leaned closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of his jaw.

“Goodbye, Minho,” you waved with newfound confidence, crinkling your eyes. Minho could only watch as your figure disappeared around the corner.

He hadn't felt so euphoric in ages.

. ˚✧・* •

“Hmm,” your foot tapped against the ground, hands on your hips as you chewed at the nib of your pen, scanning the market. At first sight, the place reminded you of everything that your own kingdom wasn't. It was lively and crowded, and there were so many goods you didn't know in which direction to look.

Truly a feast for the eyes, you noted.

But despite that, you knew that the Crimson land, just like any other land, had to have its own set of issues.

Issues that you soon discovered ran a bit deeper than you originally had anticipated. After countless short ‘interviews’ (if you could even call them that) with the local citizens and villagers, you found out that there was a reoccurring pattern of corrupt, lesser-powerful royals in charge of the adjoining regions under the Crimson rule abusing their powers.

“Count Choi raises the taxes by a little bit every year,” an elderly woman complained, lowering her voice as a string of colorful curses rang from her lips. Frustration could be seen in her angry gaze—you could tell how powerless she felt.

A middle-aged man, similarly to her, shared how Viscount Kim suspended the stream from the river to the well, cutting off their immediate water supply.

“It's nearly impossible to reach His Majesty in any way. Or at least since the…” he immediately paused, looking around in fear of being overheard. “...Since his brother died in the war,” he whispered urgently, shaking his head.

“But even if we could set up a meeting with him, I highly doubt anyone would be willing to.”

It surprised you to hear just how much his own people feared him. Sure, Minho wasn't exactly the most… hospitable person when you first met him, you wouldn't even go as far as to say that you were friends, but the look of fear in the people's eyes was unmistakable.

As far as you could tell, the people were utterly terrified of him.

Noting down all the new information into your handy journal, you made a mental note to find a way to bring it up with Minho as soon as you could. Perhaps once you two finally managed to have the promised dinner together…

‘Just a few more days’ you realized with glee.

A loud thud almost made you drop your notebook as you realized where you currently were. Coughing awkwardly, you briskly walked over to one of the more secluded stalls, not wanting to stand still in the middle of the busy marketplace crowd.

A sudden smell of freshly baked rolls wafts through the air, making you keen. You turned around over your shoulder in hopes of finding the stall that managed to produce such lavish-smelling treats.

“Hello,” you walked up to the small booth, greeting the elderly lady behind the counter with a smile. In front of you layed pastries of all shapes and sizes, arranged in multiple rows. Almost salivating, you scanned all the treats—you felt like a kid in a candy store. There were so many options and quite frankly, when presented with so many choices, you felt at your wit's end.

“You aren't from here, are you?” she chuckled, wiping her hands into the apron around her waist.

“Oh… can you tell so easily?” you winced, rubbing the back of your neck, heat rushing to your cheeks.

She smiled, “Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It isn't quite often that we see foreigners here and we can usually tell by seeing them shop around.”

“I see. Do you mind if I ask you to recommend me something? There's just so much to choose from and I'm afraid I'd stand here all day if I had to choose,” you giggled bashfully, looking down in embarrassment. It was true though, and with so many choices, you were bound to ponder over something as simple as what you should eat for ages.

“Of course,” she bent down and picked up a large pot. “Jeongin! Bring the sugar dragons!”

Your brow raised upon hearing the familiar name, a smile appearing on your face when you saw the familiar figure come in through the door. The boy looked like he had just rolled out of bed, dressed in what you assumed to be his comfortable clothes. His hair sat messily atop his head, likely uncombed, making him look even more adorable.

“I'm coming!”

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he placed the large container on the counter, pushing the hair out of his face. Only then did he notice you standing in front of him, smirking with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Y-Your M-Majesty–” he stammered, taking a step back. His eyes widened into the size of dinner plates, causing a chuckle to tear through your throat.

“Jeongin,” you cooed, grinning at the sight of your friend (at least you hoped you could consider the boy your friend). A rosy blush rose to his cheeks, dusting them with a soft, peachy hue. Stuttering, he awkwardly attempted to bow as his mother watched, unsure of what to do.

She ended up following suit, lowering her head as a string of apologies left her lips. “It's okay,” you tried to placate the two of them, repeating over and over how you didn't really care for royal greetings anyways.

Moments later, all three of you sat around a small table in the middle of their living room, munching on the little sugar dragon popsicles.

“What are you doing here anyway, Princess?” Jeongin's tone—to your relief—took on a more laid-back quality as he slumped back into his chair.

“Oh, nothing much,” you remarked, noticing how Jeongin's mom was now watching you intently. “I thought I could actually come to see the village myself and meet the people of the land I will soon rule.”

You sipped some freshly squeezed juice jeongin graciously offered you before continuing, “I figured I could ask around and figure out some points of friction,” you gestured towards the market outside the window. “Since I still don't get recognized in public, I figured people would tell me there was something bothering them.”

“That's very nice of you to do,” Jeongin chimed, picking up all the plates from the table. “Did you find out anything interesting?”

“Oh, definitely,” you lean over the table, immediately launching into a detailed explanation…

. ˚✧・* •

A strangle of curses left your lips as you sat on the chair, focusing all of your energy on creating a spark of ice. Your eyes were shut in concentration, brows furrowing at the realization that you likely wouldn't produce any anytime soon.

“What is going on?!” you whisper-shouted under your breath, staring at the tips of your fingers as if that would ever help. You had bumped your head earlier in the morning while preparing some morning tea and to prevent a nasty bruise from appearing on your body, you thought that you could cool the sore spot with some ice.

Except it wasn't working at all. It was like you never had any powers, to begin with, the feeling reminding you way too much of how you felt back when you were a toddler, forced to focus all your energy into manifesting the first slivers of ice.

‘This is bad,’ you realized, beads of sweat forming at the top of your forehead. ‘Really bad.’

The realization of what would happen if it were released to the public that you lost the ability to control your power hit you straight in the face, causing your heartbeat to steadily grow.

There were so many officials and high-standing people in the palace, hungry to find anything as simple as an unrelenting rumor or idle gossip to discredit your position as the future queen of the nation.

And the fact that you couldn't summon your powers would definitely be enough grounds for them to try and annulate the treaty.

The whole point of this marriage was to unite the two kingdoms and create a powerful empire, one that could afford to stay at peace. It was expected that the two of you would produce an heir soon after the marriage, followed by (hopefully) many more children to come, some of which would inherit Minho's fire-bending ability while others would learn how to control ice, like their mother.

And despite the fact that you would never be forced to battle anyone, the information about your sudden ability-loss would certainly make you an easier target as you would be rightfully deemed weaker and more vulnerable.

“Damn it!” you groaned, wiping off the tear that slid down your cheek with the back of your wrist.

‘This wasn't going anywhere,’ you concluded, so you decided that you had to distract yourself asap. Picking up your trusty, leather-bound notebook, you began to flip through the pages until you found the one you were looking for. At the bottom, there was an address scribbled down in smeared ink.

It was the address of the local orphanage.

While talking to one of the villagers, you had found out that there weren't that many teachers in the regions that would teach poorer people. He explained that because of that, some children (especially the orphans) grew up struggling to read, write, or even do simple calculations in their heads.

And since no one really paid any attention to you, slipping out of the palace with two bags filled to the brim with clothes, supplies and some food was the easiest thing in the world.

Damn, maybe the palace should update its security.

. ˚✧・* •

“Hello,” you greeted the children lined up in a row, “I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello Miss Y/N,” all the kids greeted back in unison, beaming with happiness despite their torn clothes and streaks of dirt on their faces. Your heart clenched at the sight, making a mental note to remember to bring some washing oils next time you came.

The head of the orphanage, Jihyo, welcomed you with open arms, enthralled that she had someone who seemed interested in the well-being of the little kids.

“You know,” she wept, wiping the tears off her face, “It isn't often that we get volunteers here, especially ones that are willing to teach these poor kids some skills that would help them once they become adults.”

You nodded gently in understanding, handing her your handkerchief. “I'm glad to be of service.”

Once you handed her the bags filled with goods, she busted in tears once again, hugging you with so much fervor you were afraid she'd crush your lungs.

After that, she lead you to the room where a small chalkboard hung on the wall of the modestly furnished space.

Setting down your materials on a small table, you grabbed a piece of chalk before writing on the board the contents of today's lesson, underlining it twice.

“Now, who can tell me the alphabet?”

. ˚✧・* •

After the first day of volunteering at the orphanage, you realized that it was something you enjoyed a lot. It gave you a sense of pride and fulfillment, knowing that you were helping these children who had so little, and you told yourself that you would bring the lack of proper funding for these institutions to Minho's attention since you didn't really hold any power yourself as of right now.

Every time you saw them smile as they read a word out loud or calculated something in their head, your heart burst at the sight of their happy cries and cheers.

“Here you go,” you handed the young girl with pigtails the last piece of pie that you bought on the market before coming here, wiping your sticky hands into a towel nearby.

“Thank you,” she chirped, gleefully swallowing down the pastry with a grin. “You have a really nice dress, Miss Y/N,” she suddenly spoke up, staring at your yellow gown in awe. “And you're really pretty and smart too! Just like a princess… I wanna be just like you when I grow up!” she pumped her fist in the air, giggling softly.

“Aww,” you coo, touched by her kind words. “That's so sweet of you to say, Rosie. You're really sweet and pretty too, you know that?” She smiled bashfully as a gentle blush colored her cheeks.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” you inquired, gently brushing a stray lock from her face. After her furious nod of approval, she grabbed your hand, leading you towards one of the cushions on the floor.

. ˚✧・* •

“There, you go! All done,” you grinned, patting her head after fastening the last of the fancy hair clips you took out from your bun into her braided hair.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” she turned around to pull you into a hug, “you're the bestest person in the world.”

“Uh-uh,” you tutted, wiggling your finger in front of your face to show your disapproval. “You know that's not true, Rosie. Miss Jihyo has been taking care of you for so long and she's the most caring person I know. She's the bestet person, don't forget that.”

“Ahh, you're right,” her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “She's the bestet person in the world but you're right after her.”

“Thank you, Rosie,” you whispered into the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “And you're the sweetest little girl I know.”

. ˚✧・* •

“Come in,” you muttered against your pillow, too tired to leave the sanctity of your bed and open the door. A loud click could be heard as a tall figure stepped inside your room, shutting the door behind.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You immediately recognize the soft, husky voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you struggled to sit upright with the sheets still tangled between your limbs. “M-Minho! Hi–”

The man chuckled at your distressed state, cooing when you buried your head in your hands in embarrassment. ‘Cute,’ he thought.

“I'm not interrupting you, am I?” he asked, sitting on the edge of your bed. You promptly pulled your legs up to your chest to make more space for him. “N-No, I was just taking a small nap since I didn't sleep well last night.”

“I see,” his brows furrowed, “you're still having trouble sleeping?”

You could feel your heart combust at the question. It was stupid, beyond stupid, and you knew—however—it was like your heart had a mind of its own, completely ignoring your rational thoughts.

“I think I'm still getting used to the new setting, perhaps the change of weather,” you added lamely, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown. Suddenly, Minho scooched closer to you, making you look up.

“I'll go ask Seungmin if he has anything other than the tea that he could give you,” he placed his hand tenderly on your thigh, rubbing the soft flesh with the tips of his fingers. The gesture caused a pleasant shiver to run through you and you sighed. “Thank you.”

The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, enjoying the balmy silence before Minho cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“U-Uh… so, I know we haven't been able to spend much time with each other,” the corners of your mouth twitched, and you were very close to reminding him why the two of you didn't meet.

Upon seeing your expression, his cheeks flush. “I know it's because of me—I'm really sorry we had to cancel our dinner plans—Felix ambushed me with an unplanned meeting so I had to take care of that…” he trailed off, his hand still resting on your supple skin.

“It's okay, Minho. I understand that you have many responsibilities as the future King.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't excuse me canceling so abruptly,” he reasoned. “I was hoping we could have the dinner next Saturday—I've had my entire schedule cleared for the day so we can even go somewhere after we eat.”

The smile you gave him was positively contagious, and he found himself beaming. “Okay, then it's settled.”

. ˚✧・* •

As you're walking down the alley leading to the orphanage, you couldn't help but feel like you're being watched. After turning around multiple times to check if you see anyone trailing behind you, quickening your pace in hopes of losing the person, you still can't shake the eerie feeling.

Jihyo had warned you about walking to the orphanage. She mentioned the army barracks being stationed nearby, as well as a brothel just a few blocks down the neighborhood. It wasn't the ideal place to run a children's home, but due to her limited funding, she had to settle for the less than quintessential location.

“Sometimes, there are drunk men wandering the streets,” she whispered hushedly, looking over her shoulder to make sure none of the kids could hear her. “Please be careful, especially after dusk…”

Her warning echoed in your head, making shivers run down your spine as you scanned your surroundings. As you briskly hiked your dress up in hopes of having more mobility, you heard a sudden thud, panic flooding through your veins.

‘Just a little bit more,’ you thought, sighing in relief as you slung the door to the orphanage open, stepping in and shutting the door behind you.

Immediately, you were swarmed with kids flocking to you, little Rosie reaching to envelop you in a tight hug.

“Hello, Y/N,” they all chirped in unison, some grabbing your dress in attempt to pull you into their study room. “Hey, hey!” you giggled, patting their heads. “Don't worry, I know how eager you are to learn. I'm coming!”

And just like that, you're pulled into their own little world, pointing at the chalkboard as you explain today's topic at hand—multiplication. It's a hard topic to grasp, especially for kids who have never gotten a proper education. The children's ages varied—from as young as four or five to the eldest being in their preteens. And because of the huge age difference, you were forced to tailor your explanations to them depending on which category they fell into.

The youngest bunch was occupied with drawing basic shapes (you sat them at the back of the room and handed them some colored pencils along with a few sheets of paper). The rest of the kids were seated before you, all staring at the board intently as you tried to explain the mathematical operation to the best of your abilities.

“Each bird in the sky has two wings. But if there's three of them, how many wings are there in total?”

Judging by the way they all frowned, you could tell they were deep in thought. It took a few seconds, but finally, one of the girls raised her hand.

“There are six wings, right?”

“Correct!” you beamed, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Moving over to the board to grab a piece of chalk, you began to draw three birds in total, writing small numbered indexes above each wing.

“See?” you gestured towards the board, “there are six wings in total. Well done, Yujin!”

. ˚✧・* •

“Remind me again, Felix, why are you bothering me in the middle of work?” Minho sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. His golden crown lay on the table beside him, discarded, as he found it pretentious to wear the ornate piece of gold when he found himself in solitude.

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty,” the general snickered, reaching for the paperwork on Minho's desk. In a swift motion, he slammed his hand down on the table, seizing the papers from his hands and placing them on the armchair behind him.

Minho could only scowl at the blatant show of disrespect, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I found out some very interesting information about the Princess.”

Upon hearing that, Minho's ears perked, causing Felix to chuckle. ‘He had become weak,’ he thought, so smitten for that girl.

When he was sure he had his attention, he continued, “A little birdie told me, that the Princess has been sneaking out of the palace quite often.”

Minho's expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but unfortunately, Felix had noticed.

“Why would that be of my concern, Felix? Y/N isn't my possession—I have no interest in controlling her every move. If she feels like taking a breath of fresh air, who am I to stop her?”

“I don't think you're understanding what I'm trying to convey, Your Majesty,” he drawled, smugness radiating off of him in waves. Minho had to hold himself back from decking Felix in the face.

With a groan, he looked him dead in the eye, “then tell me, Felix, what is it that your little spies have found out?”

“She's been sneaking out to the eastern part of the district,” the General noticed how the Prince's throat bobbed. “Almost every day, she leaves in the morning and returns in the evening. Apparently, it's in the area near the barracks and the illegal brothel down on Scarlet street.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued, the only thing that could be heard was the rapid beating of the Prince's heart.

“Oh, and also, one of the servants caught her sneaking into the supply room,” he handed him a report, “there have been things going missing in the past two weeks, and it is starting to affect our scheduled monthly budgeting…”

As Felix watched the gears spinning in Minho's head, he couldn't help but grin wickedly. This was exactly what he had wanted—to plant the seed of doubt in the Prince's mind, allowing in to slowly grow over time until it would eventually take over him.

And you had handed him the perfect means to do so on a silver platter.

“Where do you think she has been going?”

The question slipped from his parted lips in a quiet breath, and Felix couldn't help but admire how calm and collected he sounded. But then, the cracks in his facade slowly started to appear as the corner of his mouth twitched.

And that's when Felix decided to lay the last blow.

“I'm not entirely sure, but I'm betting she's secretly meeting with the loverboy…”

And that's all it took for Minho to storm off, leaving a pleased Felix alone in his office. The Prince's hands were clenched into tight fists, steam practically rising from atop of his head.

‘Stop it!’ his inner voice suddenly commanded, snapping him out of his fit of rage and back into reality. This was you he was talking about. Kind, open-hearted, and diligent Y/N.

What a fool he was, he realized, wanting nothing more than to give himself a smack. There was no need to get unnecessarily angry—he could just go to you and ask you to explain. Especially since that part of the city was very dangerous—perhaps he could just warn you about the potential peril.

After the short pep talk, he finally stood in front of your heavy doors, knocking gently on the dark wood.

He knocked once… Nothing.

Twice… Still no luck.

And when he knocked for the third time without you responding, panic slowly flooded his veins.

You were nowhere to be found.

He searched through your room, turning everything upside down but there was no trace of you.

He knew you were a free spirit but did you always have to worry him so much?

Slamming your bedroom door behind him, he ran down the hall, thinking about where you could have gone. And that's when it hit him—perhaps Felix was truly right about your supposed whereabouts.

Realizing that made shivers run down his spine—he didn't want you anywhere near that street, especially so late at night.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, throwing on his overcoat and grabbing the small decorative dagger that hung on the wall. It was his brother's.

After informing one of the servants of where he was headed, he ordered a small group of soldiers to be sent in the same direction in case things truly went south.

“Please, Y/N… be okay.”

. ˚✧・* •

As you stepped outside the orphanage, you cursed at the realization of how late it was. You hadn't planned to stay for so long, but you found yourself helping Jihyo with some chores (and there were so many of them), like washing the laundry, cleaning the living space, and preparing some of the food for tomorrow.

Your mind wandered back to your plans for the upcoming days. The date of your dinner with Minho kept coming closer and closer, which made your heart race. The image of the two of you sitting next to each other, eating some good food and laughing at each other's jokes like a normal engaged couple made the heat rise to your cheeks.

But you couldn't help it—ever since you and Minho had smoothed out the initial misunderstandings between you, you seemed to have fallen for the Prince. Sure, he was cold at first, something that made you keep your distance from him, but you slowly began to realize that there was much more to Lee Minho than meets the eye.

Under his perfect facade, you found him to be a vulnerable man, who was forced to build walls around himself in order to protect his emotions. He loved his brother dearly, and you could tell that his untimely death shook through him like a storm, leaving his soul broken into pieces.

It was just your luck that he seemed to be warming up to you, actually making an effort to interact with you and ask you about your health.

Suddenly, you heard a loud thud, accompanied by some loud voices. Your heart stilled in your chest as you paused, listening intently for any other noises.

You didn't have to wait for long, as a plethora of men's voices echoed through the night, making you realize that they were drunk. Very drunk. Their voices were slurred, sounding like they just got wasted at some bar nearby, but that didn't help to soothe your unease.

Drunk people meant angry people, and you didn't want to risk being in their presence to find out just how angry the men got here.

You began to run straight ahead, hoping that you'd slip by without them even noticing, or at least fast enough so they wouldn't be able to react in any way. You could hear their voices getting closer to you, but alas, you were almost at the end of the street. Hopefully, you'd just take a turn and leave this nasty street behind.

Wrong. What you didn't account for was the light from the only flickered lamp at the beginning of the street getting weaker and weaker. You realized that you had tripped way too late, unable to brace yourself for the fall. A shrill scream left your parted lips, as you cursed yourself for being so damn clumsy.

“What was that?” one of the men grumbled, suddenly sounding perfectly sober. A chorus of mumbles ensued as they all tried to figure out what had just happened. You felt your life wither in front of your eyes as one of the guys pointed in your direction.

You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping in the process again, but your attempts at getting away were feeble at best. A calloused hand clamped around one of your wrists, pulling you back into a rough body. You wrinkled your nose at the heavy smell of liquor.

“What are you doing here so late at night, pretty girl,” the man slurred, hand reaching to grab your cheek. You had to fight the urge to spit in his face, instead choosing to simply wrinkle your nose in disgust to mask the growing fear coursing through your veins.

“J-Just on a late night stroll… my husband is expecting me home in a few so…” you trailed off, hoping your voice sounded steady enough to convince them. You prayed that the ‘husband’ card would be to your advantage and they'd let you go if you mentioned that you were already with another.

Was it horrible that you had to go to such means? Sure, but at this moment, the only thing you cared for was getting out of here as soon as possible, your pride be damned.

A chorus of oooh's could be heard, followed by boisterous laughter. “You say you have a husband, little one?” the man's grip on your wrists tightened as he ran the rough pad of his thumb down the apple of your cheek. It was now that you realized how powerless you felt without your abilities. You would've kicked his ass if you could just freeze his hands and get out of his grip, but with your current predicament, it wasn't possible

“Well, it seems like your husband really doesn't care about you, little lamb. Especially if he lets you out all alone so late at night.”

The words cut deeper than you expected them to, like someone plunged a knife into your chest, twisting in and rearranging your insides.

“Wait a second!” one of the men in the back shouted, catching the attention of his companions. “She seems familiar…” he trailed off, grabbing your face roughly and moving it to inspect you from different angles.

A few seconds passed, followed by a loud gasp. He dropped your face, mumbling to himself, “i-it's her… it's the Azure Princess for God's sake!”

You winced at his revelation, cursing under your breath. You were hoping they wouldn't recognize you, unable to predict what they would do if they had realized that you were in fact the future Queen. From what you've gathered, your popularity here wasn't exactly what you had been hoping for.

Well, it seems like you would find out soon enough…

“Now well well well,” the man grinned, revealing his rotted teeth as he walked around you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. “This changes everything, don't you think, sweetheart?”

“It doesn't change the fact that your breath stinks, Smelly,” you spat back, trying to hold in the gagging noises in the back of your throat. The man's face turned beet red, fumes nearly coming out of his ears as the other men tried to stifle their snorts, looking away and masking their laughter with a few awkward coughs.

“Damn, she's feisty,” one of them chimed, quickly shutting up when he noticed their leader's piercing glare.

“It seems like you haven't understood the gravity of your situation, witch.”

When you heard him growl, regret washed over you almost immediately. ‘Stupid, Y/N, stupid!’ you chanted in your head, wincing as you felt his grip on you tighten.

Suddenly, a fluttery motion materialized in the corner of your eye. It was pretty dark, the singular lamp at the end of the street not doing a good job of illuminating the area, but you were positive that you saw something move past you.

“It seems like you aren't realizing the gravity of the situation, you fucking bastard!”

You gasped upon hearing the familiar voice, tears of joy prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“M-Minho,” you croaked, relief washing over you like a tidal wave. You shifted slightly, noticing that the man's grip on your hands had loosened slightly, but not enough for you to break his hold.

Minho stiffened at your hoarse voice, anger flooding through his veins. His arm was currently slung around the man's much broader figure, pressing the tip of his dagger to his jugular. His other hand was extended towards the rest of the group, flames bursting from the tips of his fingers.

The men took a few steps back, clearly frightened by the sudden display of power. They all knew what this had meant since only the royal bloodline possessed the ability to wield fire—the Prince had come to get you.

And by the sound of it, he was livid.

“I'll say it only one more time, you pathetic piece of shit, before I fucking burn you to the ground,” he seethed into his ear, pressing the tip of the blade deeper into the man's skin, a few drops of blood dripping down his hand.

“Let. Her. Go!”

Everything that happened after that was a blur. You could vaguely remember the events that followed Minho's sudden appearance. The bastard who held you didn't want to give up, but after feeling blood trickling down his neck, he unwillingly let go of you, pushing you to the ground with a thud.

He turned around to fight with Minho but he never really stood a chance in the first place, the young Prince blowing a gust of flames in his direction, tearing a shrill scream from his throat. After that, the two sparred for a short while, and despite his smaller stature, Minho had managed to land a fair share of blows on the much larger man.

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, making it look like he was far gone as he landed a final blow on him, spitting on his wrecked body. You watched the scene with wide eyes, trembling in the chilly, evening air.

Never in your life had you seen a man as angry as Minho was right now.

He was panting, deep, ragged breaths leaving his parted lips as he tucked the dagger behind his belt. Slowly, as if afraid he would scare you, Minho turned around, eyes finding yours.

Upon seeing you shivering on the cold ground, he felt something tug at his heartstrings.

“Princess—” he rasped, wiping his bloodied hand into his leather pants before carefully walking towards you. He crouched beside your figure, running his thumb down your cheek to wipe away the trail of tears that'd fallen.

“You're probably cold, aren't you,” he slid off his coat, gingerly placing it on your shoulders. You accepted the warm garment with a quiet ‘thanks’.

“Everything will be okay,” he whispered, hands sliding under your body and hoisting you up into his arms. You snuggled up into his chest, pressing closer to him in hopes of obtaining some of his body heat.

“Let's get you back,” he bent down to press a chaste kiss to the top of your forehead, smiling gently—a stark contrast to his wrath you witnessed mere minutes ago.

On the way back, once you fell asleep in his arms, Minho allowed himself to let go, unable to keep the strong facade any longer. A few tears trickled down his face as his grip on your form tightened.

‘You must've been so scared,’ he realized in anger. Why were you out so late? Why didn't you protect yourself? From what he had heard, you were quite the powerful ice-bender, and Minho for the love of God couldn't figure out why didn't you try to do anything against the men.

“Your Majesty,” Changbin, the captain of the 1st legion saluted, wincing at the state of his ruler. “I apologize for the delay, we had some troubles during our departure.”

“There's a man lying unconscious a few minutes walking from here. Go and bring him back. I want him sent to the dungeon,” Minho muttered darkly.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

. ˚✧・* •

When you awoke to the birds chirping, sunlight was streaming through the flimsy curtains, making you squint. Your head was pounding, a dull, steady ache accompanying the numb pain around your wrists.

A sudden movement made you look down, noticing Minho half-sitting in what looked like an uncomfortable chair, his head and torso lying over your lap. The morning rays of the sun were illuminating his face, like a glow cast gently on him by the angels.

“Minho—” you stirred him awake, tenderly brushing the sweaty locks of hair from his forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible in response, groaning into your duvet. “Hey, hey—wake up.”

With a sudden jerk, he shot up, tiredly rubbing at his eyes as he slowly came to. “Good morning… uh, how are you feeling?”

“Morning,” you responded lamely, scanning his face and spotting the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he had barely slept all night—which he probably had—but the sight made your heart clench.

“W-Wait a second… morning? How long was I out?”

Upon hearing the panic flaring in your voice, he responded as calmly as he could. “It's okay, don't worry. I, uh, I brought you in yesterday at night so probably about ten hours?”

All the memories of the previous night started to flood back, making you feel dizzy. The world was literally spinning, your head feeling heavy when Minho gently propped you up, helping you find a more comfortable position.

“Go back to sleep, okay?”

And just like that, everything went black.

. ˚✧・* •

“Good afternoon, Princess,” a familiar friendly voice chirped, walking through the ornate doorway. Groaning, you peeled your eyes open, coming face to face with Jeongin, who was holding a tray full of fresh pastries and fruit.

“My mom prepared these for you, they're fresh out of the oven.”

There's a forced cheerfulness in his tone, and you assumed Jeongin was trying to comfort you, not wanting to bring your spirits down.

“Thank you.”

He set the tray on the night table, careful not to hit Minho (whose head was still laying on your lap) with the assortment of treats he brought.

“How long has he been there, do you know?” you suddenly spoke up, keeping your eyes trained on the Prince. You had a suspicion that he hasn't left your side but you were hoping it wasn't true.

“I'm not sure, actually,” Jeongin shrugged, “but I heard that he carried you here all the way. And judging by his appearance, he probably stayed all night with you. He was really worried.”

Glancing up at Jeongin, you tried your hardest to muster up a smile. “Yeah… that sounds like something he would do…”

. ˚✧・* •

It took another few hours for you and Minho to finally talk.

After Jeongin left, you munched on one of the sweet pastries before pulling over the duvet and lying back in your bed. Your hand was gently curled around his hair as you let the exhaustion take over you once again, closing your eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms.

When you awoke, it was already evening, judging by the sun setting behind the windows.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Minho's raspy voice startled you into a seating position, eyes widening. “Ah, sorry… I, uh, I didn't mean to startle you,” he winced, hand reaching for yours as he gently interlocked your fingers.

“Um, it's okay,” you croaked, “I was just surprised, that's all.”

The uncomfortable silence lingered in the air for a bit longer, making you wince. It felt like you had just gone back to being awkward together, and it pained you so much to be unable to talk to him freely.

You shifted in your seat, your hand gently tugging at Minho's in the process, bringing it closer to your own lap. Your ears perked up when you heard him let out a pained groan, panic immediately flooding your veins. You glanced back at him, noticing the soiled bandages peeking from under his linen blouse.

“Minho!” you exclaimed, hastily reaching for the shirt and gently pulling it away, inspecting his injury. You were met with what looked like a knife wound, sloppily wrapped in plain bandages that were soaked with blood.

“What happened to you? Are you okay?” the questions began to roll off your tongue in a swift manner as you peered at him from under your lashes, distraught.

Minho, visibly taken aback by your concern, merely shrugged. “It must've happened while I fought off that bastard—I think he managed to graze me with his knife…”

“Grazed? Are you kidding me? Minho, this gash looks deep, did you at least get it disinfected?” you exclaimed worriedly. The way he guiltily avoided your gaze answered your question.

“For God's sake,” you groaned, kicking off the blankets and throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. Alarmed, Minho immediately reached to push you back down.

“I'm just going to get the healing kit,” you murmured under your breath, feet padding against the cold, marble floor. Once you returned, you gestured towards the bed.

“Sit down on the bed, you dummy,” you gave him an incredulous look as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I'll clean your wound.”

A soft blush coated Minho's cheeks as he sat down on the bed, nervously tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. You placed the box on the chair he previously occupied, taking out all the items you would need.

Clearing his throat, Minho muttered, “I didn't know you were a healer.”

You smiled gently, preparing an herb decoction in the small washbasin. “I'm not, I just know a thing or two about treating wounds—there was a shortage of healers in our kingdom during the war.”

“Ah,” Minho awkwardly bit his lower lip, evading your gaze. “I see.”

After you were done with the herbs, you turned around to face him, pointing at his shirt. “Can you take it off? I, uh, I need to access your wound to properly wash it.”

“Yeah, of course,” his lips curved into a smile, hands reaching to pull the shirt over his head. If he noticed the heat rising to your cheeks, he didn't mention it, instead basking in the way your gentle hands began running over his torso as you carefully unwrapped the bandages.

After you were done, you placed the soiled gauze on an empty tray. Your cheeks were warm as you took in Minho in all of his—albeit slightly disheveled and injured—glory. Smooth planes of toned, sun-kissed skin that felt like heaven under your fingertips.

He was so… warm.

And you meant that in the most literal way—his body heat was unmatched. Perhaps it was due to the warm nature of fire, or the generally hot lands of the Crimson land, but his soft skin was radiating so much heat.

Not to mention his hair—dark and touseled, so unlike his usually tidy and neat updo. You had to resist the urge to run your hair through his curly locks.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

You immediately snapped your gaze back up to him, face heating up in embarrassment. “I-I… I wasn't—”

“Weren't what? Staring at me?” he smirked, his ego swelling up after having caught you staring at him for so long. Well, to be fair, it was nice to know that he had a similar effect on you as you did on him. When he noticed how flustered you were, his tone took on a softer edge.

“It's okay, Princess—no need to be embarrassed. After all, we will be soon husband and wife.”

Sadly, his statement only riled you on more as you grabbed your supplies.

“This may sting a little,” it's the only warning you gave him before beginning to gently run the wet cloth over his wound.

“Ah-ah,” he moaned in pain, clutching onto the bedsheets as if his life depended on it. Your eyes widened at the sinful sound, bitting at your lower lip.

“S-Sorry.”

Once you deemed the wound clean enough, you placed your palms against his toned chest, gently pushing him down on the bed.

“Stop it,” you grumbled, pinching his waist once you saw him wiggle his eyebrows suggestively… “It'll be easier for me to properly rinse the wound with the herbs if you're laying down.”

Chuckling, Minho submitted to your wishes, his back making contact with the bed. You kneeled beside him, grabbing a clean cloth before dipping it in the herbal tincture. Once it was completely soaked, you gently wrung it over his wound, wincing as he groaned in pain.

You repeated the process a few more times, until the wound was relatively clean, save for the few streaks of blood on the pinkish flesh.

“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled quietly, reaching for a small tin. “I'm almost done.”

“It's okay, no need to apologize.”

After that, you applied some sage salve onto the wound and proceeded to tightly bandage it with a new gauze.

“Thank you,” Minho slid up into a seating position, pushing the sweaty hair from his forehead. You could tell that he was still recovering from the stinging sensations, breathing shallowly.

“It's no problem, just make sure to visit the palace physician to make sure everything is alright.”

When he didn't respond, you noticed how tense his shoulders looked. His brows were furrowed, almost as if he was deep in thought and he kept balling his hand into a fist before unclenching it. Seemingly, something was bothering him.

“Are you okay, Minho?” you decided to voice your concerns, nervously biting your lip.

“I–, uh… yeah. Don't worry about it, it's kinda stupid,” he chuckled anxiously, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Hey, hey… look at me,” you gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you. “Your happiness matters just as much as mine. If there's something bothering you, please tell me. Maybe I can help…”

“That's the thing,” he laughed bitterly, “I don't think you can help me with this.”

You peered at him, confused.

“It's just that— I…” the words seemed to get caught in his throat. “Were you with Jisung last night?”

As soon as he uttered the sentence, his head fell into his hands, embarrassed. “No, whatever, you don't have to answer. This is just the jealousy speaking—I shouldn't be concerned about that when your life was in danger yesterday—” he rambled on, clenching his hands into fists—a habit you have picked up on as a sign of stress.

“Minho,” you stroked his cheek with your palm, “Please, just look at me.”

He slowly lifted his head, eyes staring into yours. You noticed the wetness at the corners of his eyes—were those tears? You didn't ask, however, not wanting to put him on the spot. He seemed to struggle with being vulnerable and open with people, so you figured it would be better not to mention it.

“Why would you think I was with Jisung?”

“I don't know,” he grumbled, wiping his eyes. “You seem to like him a lot… and when Felix told me that you were sneaking out to the eastern district, I-I, I just figured you were secretly seeing him, you know… since the barracks are in the east too.”

“Oh Minho,” you thumbed the tear rolling down his cheek, “I didn't even know that the barracks were nearby. I promise that's not what happened. Me and Jisung, um, we talked it out already and there's nothing between us. We haven't actually spoken for ages…”

“I know… I should've known,” he corrected himself, “but I don't want you to cut him off completely, Y/N. I understand that he's someone close to you so please, don't feel like you can't spend any time with him. At least not too much,” he added after a short pause, making you giggle.

“Alright. I appreciate it, Minho.”

Despite Minho initially looking like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, you still felt like something was bothering him. Gently, you nudged him in the side, whispering, “Is that all that was bothering you?”

“Actually,” he breathed out, “it's not. There's so much about you that I don't know. You're such a fucking mystery to me, you know.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, making the coil in your stomach tighten. Running a hand down his back, you whispered, “what exactly do you want to know?”

“Everything. Like what body wash you use cause it smells fucking amazing,” he grumbled, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Why thank you,” you giggled, attempting a curtsy in your seating position, “I use the same vanilla body wash I've used for my entire life.”

After a moment, his hand reached out for yours, gently interlocking your fingers.

“If I'm being honest, I still don't understand what exactly happened yesterday. Why were you out so late? Where even were you?”

“I was at the orphanage,” you mumbled quietly.

“Come again?”

“I was at the orphanage,” you repeated, this time louder, looking away in embarrassment. "When I found out in what poor conditions the place was, I decided to come every day and help clean the place and teach the kids how to read and count.”

“Of course you did,” Minho breathed out in exasperation. “I was so damn stupid—the missing supplies—I should've realized it was something like that. I know how sweet and selfless you are, Y/N, and trust me, it's one of your most magnificent qualities, but for once, just for once, could you have been a little selfish and thought of yourself?”

“What do you mean–”

“I mean that you shouldn't have stayed so long, but most importantly, you should've defended yourself!” he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he ran his other hand through his hair.

“They say that you're one of the most powerful benders from the Azure kingdom, so how come you didn't do anything to fend them off? They should've been small fish compared to you…”

And there it was. Minho had just asked the million-dollar question that you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. Your heartbeat quickened as sweat started to gather on your forehead.

“I-I…” you meekly whispered, the words not coming out. Minho noticed the apparent change in demeanor, as well as the way your shoulders began to tremble.

“Hey, it's okay, don't worry. You can tell me anything,” he coaxed you, gently gripping your waist and placing you on his lap. Brushing the hair out of your face, he whispered, “you can lean on me whenever something's bothering you, you know? That's what I'm here for.”

“I lost my p-powers, Minho.”

There… you said it. You uttered the sentence you hoped you would never have to say out loud. You awaited his reaction, the anger, confusion, and frustration that would follow.

Nothing.

Gently peering at him from under your lashes, you found his lips to be curled into a soft smile. Pity, you quickly realized. Oh no, he would break it to you know—the engagement would be broken off, your kingdoms would be at war again, you realized in panic.

“I-I couldn't tell you since I knew how important that aspect was to the royal court. As soon as they find out,” you hiccuped, “they'll formally break off the engagement… and my people… the Azure land c-can't take more war, Minho! We'll be obliterated so please, d-don't—”

“Do you seriously think I would break off the engagement because of that?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“Seriously, Y/N, I know I acted like a selfish prick at first, but do you really think that lowly of me? That I'd send you back home along with my army hot on your heels just because of that?”

Your eyes were glossy, “I… I don't know,” you admitted after a while, blinking away the tears. “Everything was fine before, but one day, I just couldn't summon them. And I was too scared to tell anyone since the final clause of the treaty is that the two of us marry and produce a powerful heir that should inherit both our abilities…”

Minho blushed furiously at the mention of an heir, the tips of his ears turning beet red. “I, uh, we'll find a cure, don't worry. If I have to, I'll travel with you far and wide to visit every healer in the kingdom.”

His words soothed your fears as you melted in his embrace. “T-Thank you, Min.”

He softened at the nickname. “Don't worry about it, everything will be okay.”

The two of you sat like that for another couple of minutes, Minho rubbing your back as you calm down from the onslaught of emotions. It was a bit embarrassing for you to cry in front of him, but despite the slight distress, you were glad you got those things off your chest.

And it seemed like it was quite a productive conversation for Minho as well. You could tell that it was rare for him to open up as much as he did. He wasn't used to being vulnerable in front of others, especially after his brother's passing.

Later at night, after he had carried you bridal style to your chambers, he told you that the two of you could visit the orphanage together first thing in the morning. After that, he kissed you on the forehead and wished you sweet dreams.

The cool breeze slipping from the open window made you shiver as you tangled your limbs into the sheets. A particular sentence from Minho had stuck with you, something that he said in between his frustrated exclamations of how careless you were.

“Please, Y/N. I was so scared history would repeat itself. I can't lose another one… I can't lose you…”

. ˚✧・* •

“Here you go,” Minho handed you fresh pastry, paying the woman as the two of you strolled through the market. It was pretty early in the morning, the sun still rising, as you walked hand in hand.

“You can't wear this,” you poked him on the shoulder, “everyone will recognize you.”

“So what? You're not really that incognito yourself,” he pointed at your face. “Soon, everyone in the nation will recognize you as my wife, and therefore, their lawful queen.”

“Minho,” you smacked your lips, hiding your embarrassment. “C'mon, let's go.”

The Minho that stood in front of you now looked quite unlike the Minho you were used to from the palace. His hair was dissheveled, the mop of unruly curls sitting atop his head and glimmering more than any crown could.

He was dressed in simple clothing, natural colors, and clean lines, both of which accentuated his sturdy build and the rugged charm he exuded.

You, on the other hand, were dressed in a plain, beige dress that fit around your body snuggly, a thin, leather belt fastened around your waist.

“Wait a second, I have an idea!” Minho exclaimed, tugging at your belt loop to bring you closer to him. His hand gently brushed against your neck, fingertips igniting all the sensitive nerve endings.

He pulled out a beautiful silken scarf, looping it under your hair before tying a knot, bringing your locks into a ponytail. “There, now you'll fit in.”

On your way to the orphanage, Minho acted as your tour guide, pointing at all the noteworthy monuments and retelling you the history of the city like he was a walking textbook. When you pulled out your trusty leather-bound notebook to take some notes, he immediately asked about its contents, and when he jutted his lower lip, you couldn't deny him.

“Well… it's actually just notes I took on the kingdom's history, culture, and the problem areas. I talked to some of the citizens and asked them about possible areas of friction.”

The memories of your amateur interviews came back to mind, heat rising to your cheeks. Minho seemed awfully intrigued, ears piqued in interest.

“I had told myself that I would bring up these issues once we shared some dinner but since that never happened…”

You trailed off solemnly, causing Minho to wince. He knew it wasn't proper of him to flake out like that but the sudden meeting that Felix sprang on him required his immediate presence.

“Anyways,” you turned the page in your notebook, beginning to read off all of your notes, “I was told multiple times that some of the men in power abuse their status. They leverage things like fresh water and raise taxes and there's no one to stop them.”

Minho frowned at the revelation, unsure of what to say. “That's not all,” you continued, looking him in the eye. “Apparently, you're very hard to reach—countless people have tried to set up an audience with you but they were never allowed—and these are only the few that aren't petrified of you.”

“Hmm, I honestly didn't expect that. Most of the internal affairs like requests for an audience go through a couple of people before they reach me—I'll have to ask them about that.”

Once the two of you reached the orphanage, Minho's hand nervously found yours. You could tell he was beginning to feel anxious, so you resorted to caressing his knuckles with your thumb.

“Don't worry, the kids will love you,” you beamed, brushing a curly lock from in front of his eyes. Minho blushed at the affectionate gesture, your hooded gaze unhelpful to the pink blossom on his cheeks.

“If you say so…”

Tapping your knuckle against the unpolished wood, you knocked a few times. When the door opened, Jihyo popped up from behind, grinning upon seeing you.

“Hey, welcome,” she pulled you into a tight hug. Only then did she notice your companion, welcoming him with a wave. “Are you Y/N's husband?” she gushed, holding the door for the two of you to enter. Heat rose to your cheeks at her words, but Minho simply smirked, “Not yet, but we're engaged.”

“Ah, this is so sweet,” she placed her hand in front of her lips, cooing. “Young love—it's so refreshing to see nowadays.”

As soon as you stepped into the cramped living room, a dozen or so kids immediately flocked to you, welcoming you with a smile.

“Hii, Y/N. Did you bring any sweets?”

“N/N, I missed you so much.”

“Who's this man? Why did he come with you?”

You chuckled at their inquiries, gently stroking their heads. “One by one, guys. I have something for you, don't worry, Gyu,” you nodded towards one of the boys who instantly lightened up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Aww, I missed you too, Rosie,” you hugged the pigtailed girl, turning around to face Minho. “And this is… Lino, he's very excited to meet you all—greet him warmly, please!”

Minho flushed at the nickname, barely concealing the smile that was peaking through his scowl. You laughed at the expression he made, the sound still ringing in his ears hours later like the most beautiful melody.

To see you like this, he couldn't get enough of it. He stood by the large glass window, resting his back against it as he watched you from afar, drunk on the sight. Not that looking at you wasn't a blessing in and of itself—far from that, actually.

Minho used to pride himself on being able to resist all things irresistible.

He learned how to accept defeat, and how to deal with things he never thought he would get in life. How to deal with the repercussions of watching people from afar have what he desperately wanted, but never thought he could have.

A normal, domestic life.

It used to ache him so much… after his brother's untimely death, he was faced with more than one cruel occurrence. He would have to be King. and because of that, any sort of life, with just a semblance of normalcy, should've been ruled out. Right?

Wrong… maybe.

The joyful screams and beams of laughter rang through the air as you chased around with the kids, your dress floating around whimsically. Oh how he longed for you to smile like that in his presence, he longed to be the cause for your happiness, just like these little rascals seemed to be.

The last blow to his already fragile and tender heart was when one of the girls jumped into your arms, which resulted in your holding her like one would hold a newborn, rocking her from side to side. He nearly burst at the sight, mind immediately wandering to what your kids would look like.

‘Fuck,’ he thought. It almost felt like you were doing this to him on purpose, trying to rile him up. He dismissed the idea though when you turned around to face him, a wide, innocent smile on your lips.

“C'mon, Min. Come join us, we're gonna play tag in the backyard!”

And just like that, Minho knew there was no going back.

. ˚✧・* •

“Teach him a lesson!” one of the men shouted, earning himself at least a dozen ‘yeah's’ from the gathered crowd. “Show him how it's done here in the Crimson land!”

Ignoring the hollers, Jisung wiped the blood from his busted lip, straightening up as he waited for the General to strike again. Unfortunately for him, the loud noises around him proved to be detrimental to his ability to focus, slowing down his reaction time.

Another round of applause rumbled as Felix managed to land another blow on him, this time hitting him straight in the jaw.

“You're awfully slow today, aren't you,” he remarked, brows shooting up. Jisung shot him a nasty glare, “And you seem awfully chatty. You think you can manage to win this battle by talking me to death?”

His taunt didn't draw out the reaction he wanted, the General not even blinking. “No, but I might beat you into a pulp if you don't step up your game, loverboy.”

Jisung ground his teeth at the taunt, knowing fully well what Felix was getting at. His irritation must've shown, as the most shit-eating grin appeared on the General's lips.

He just hit the nail in the coffin.

“Don't call me that,” he tried his hardest to sound intimidating, but it rather had the opposite effect. “Why shouldn't I? Isn't that who you are—a guard helplessly in love with the Princess? You must know that relationships like these are merely fantasies, right?”

When the lieutenant didn't answer, he continued, still watching his moves with a hawk eye. “Face, it—you'll never get–”

And that was all it took for Jisung to clench his fists

It wasn't for about ten minutes that Felix was declared the official winner of the match as he landed the final blow, punching his opponent in the gut. Jisung was sent flying across the makeshift ring, coughing up a bit of blood.

As he sat on the dirty floor, surrounded by a few dozen men, soldiers and farmers alike, he felt like the ground should swallow him up alive. His cheeks were warm, a soft shade of red blossoming from his neck upwards. Whether it was from the exertion his body went through or the bustling humiliation coursing his veins, he couldn't tell.

Tears welled up in his eyes making him hiccup, his lashes fluttering as Felix delivered the last kick… Before he could splutter out the words to give up, the ground was torn from under his wobbly feet and everything went black.

. ˚✧・* •

“Your Majesty!”

The loud knock wakes you from your peaceful slumber, a tired groan escaping your lips. “Coming,” you muttered, slinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

You paddled on your bare feet towards the wooden door, opening it to come face to face with one of the guards. Immediately, you felt a twinge of embarrassment as you realized that you were only wearing your silken night slip. The guard, however, didn't react in any sort of way, handing you a large rose bouquet wrapped indelicate wrapping paper.

“His Majesty ordered for this to be delivered to you,” he noted, before bowing down and walking away. The heat rose to your cheeks as you stood in the doorway with the large assortment of flowers, startled to the core.

You never would've pegged Minho as the romantic type…

Inside your room, you placed the bouquet on the table, noticing that a small, paper note had been attached to one of the flowers. Your fingers worked gently to unfold it, reading the contents in one go.

For Princess Y/N,

I hope you like them, sweetheart ♥ can't wait for our dinner tomorrow…

LMH

. ˚✧・* •

Later that day, you and Minho bumped into each other during lunchtime, and he suggested that the two of you grab something from the kitchen and sneak out on the balcony to eat.

“I looked over the issue with Count Choi and Viscount Kim,” he mentioned after swallowing down the last piece of the chicken pie. “Indeed, the two of them had gotten many complaints on how they ruled their regions; I can't believe this hasn't been brought to my attention.” his fists clenched, showing how frustrated he was with the situation.

“There's nothing we can do about that now, Minho. I'm just happy that we found out. It seems like this is a recurring pattern thought…” you trailed off solemnly, gazing at the city.

“Yeah. I'll have to have a little talk with some of the men in the Royal Court—this behavior is unacceptable.”

“It's good to know that you are interested in these things, I can tell that you care.”

Minho looked away, trying not to seem fazed by your words. His hand found its way onto yours, gently enveloping your palm, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.

“I'm also looking into what can be done for the orphanage,” he relaxed his posture, tipping his head towards the blue sky. “So far, it seems that they lack mostly funding, so I'm going over it with the palace accountant—it seems like we'll be able to give them a more than healthy sum every month that should be more than enough to run the place smoothly. They should also be able to afford to employ one or two more people to keep the place running.”

Your smile brightened at the thought of Jiyho having some support, both financial and physical. She worked herself nearly to death, doing everything she could to keep the place going.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whispered, your words barely audible.

The Sun was glimmering, painting the sky in hues of gold. You gazed into the distance, a sense of newfound longing in your heart. “The sky's beautiful, isn't it?” you entwined your hand with his, voicing out your thoughts.

“Not as beautiful as you are,” came his breathless response. Your heartbeat quickened in surprise as you slowly turned around to face him. His lips were gently parted as he gazed at you with an intensity you've never seen before like you held the entire Milky Way in your eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks, your fingers numbly clutching onto the hem of your gown.

“You know you're the smartest, kindest, most stunning woman in the entire kingdom?”

You spluttered, unsure of how to respond to his words. The weight of his compliments hung in the air, an unexplainable tension forming between the two of you. Minho's gaze softened at your bashfulness, hand cupping your face.

“I mean that, you know,” his thumb gently stroked your cheek, causing you to nearly melt from his mere touch. “I know it's been difficult for you to adjust to your new life, but I want you to know that I'm so proud of you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, lashes fluttering at the pretext of what was going to happen next.

“I've been waiting for this for so damn long,” as if on cue, Minho breathed out, his warm breath fanning your cheek. You could almost feel the plush of his oh-so-soft lips on yours, excitement running through your veins.

Yet it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you when you heard the door crash open.

“Your Majesty!” a guard in his early twenties burst in, bowing down.

You instantly jumped away from Minho, flustered from the sudden interruption. On the other hand, Minho's reaction was completely opposite to yours.

“What is it?” he grumbled, a light blush blossoming on his cheeks. Why did this always happen to him?

“We have just received a report that a famine had broken out in the northern villages. The last few caravans sent by Your Majesty had been attacked, resulting in there not being enough resources to keep the people in the area fed.”

A beat of silence followed before any of you spoke, the guard promptly excusing himself and leaving the two of you to wallow in the remains of the depressing statement. Your hand was still holding on to his, so you could feel the way he tensed. His brows were drawn together, lips set in a firm line as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

“Minho,” you tried to gently call his name, rubbing his back in hopes of soothing his anxieties. You were worried too, but you could tell how much more this affected him, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“Y/N,” he nervously bit down on his lip, “I know we were going to spend some time together—”

“Go,” you reassured him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I understand that this is a situation of utmost importance.”

His expression relaxed into a smile. “Thank you, I appreciate you being so understanding.”

“Oh please,” you waved him off, “it's nothing. I would gladly accompany you if you'd like, but I fear I would mainly impose…”

“Nonsense,” he held out his hand for you to take, like a true gentleman. “I'd welcome your presence. Besides, it's about time that the officials start getting used to seeing you around—after all—you don't think I'll the only one to decide on all the matters, don't you?” he grinned.

“If that's the case, I'd love to come.”

. ˚✧・* •

The air in the council chambers was as suffocating as the freezing winters of your land.

The room was laid out rather nicely, you presume. A voluminous ornate table at which all the council members gathered, large windows allowing copious amounts of sunlight to stream in through, and elegant paintings of the entire royal bloodline hanging off the walls.

Minho, as the Crown Prince and rightful heir to the throne, occupied the head of the table, and with the crown perched on top of his head, he looked more like the menacing ruler everyone made him out to be. You were sat right by his side, ears piqued as you listened intently to their conversation.

“Councilman Moon,” Minho's voice bounced off the walls, the authoritative edge ever so present. “I don't understand the point you are making. There's a famine breaking out—in what world is that not a priority matter for us to discuss?”

“If I may,” you intervene, gathering the attention of the rest of the councilmembers and Minho himself.

“Of course, Princess,” he spoke softly as if reassuring you with the gentlest of smiles.

“Thank you. So I wanted to follow up on what the Prince had said,” you brought your hands from your lap to the table. “Allowing a famine to spread would be way too risky—especially once it spirals out of control… Trust me, I have seen my Kingdom nearly fall apart due to there not being enough resources,” your brows furrowed at the unpleasant memories. “And that's not to mention that it would be a terrible decision to make, morally speaking.”

One of the men let out a distasteful scoff, and everyone's gazes immediately focused on him.

“Is there something amusing that you'd like to share with the rest of us, councilman Jung?” Minho snarled in his direction.

“Not exactly, Your Majesty. I merely believe that the Princess shouldn't speak on matters she outside of her scope of understanding.”

Before Minho could respond, you cut in. “Why do you believe that I possess no understanding of this topic? I have seen what hunger had done to my people, and I merely want to prevent history from repeating itself here.”

“What do you propose we do then, Your Majesty?” one of the kinder council members spoke up, intrigue lacing his tone.

“Well, first of all, I'd suggest that each caravan carrying supplies is accompanied by a small cell of soldiers that will make sure that no one comes to harm and that the supplies will be safely delivered to their final destination.”

Immediately, councilman Jung interrupted you, fiery gaze piercing through you.

“And where do you suggest we find all these soldiers? Trained men do not grow on trees, Your Majesty.”

“There's plenty of soldiers in the barracks right now, if I'm not mistaken,” you retorted, challenging him. “The war has ended, which means that most of the troops are now back home. Undoubtedly, there should be enough manpower to make sure that basic resources are redistributed in the land, isn't that correct?”

“Indeed, it may appear so, but what if conflict won't cease? The union has not yet been officially consummated, so who's to say what may or may not happen?”

Silence followed, and you were sure that if you tried, you would've heard a pin drop.

“E-Excuse me?” you managed to stutter after a while, frustration and confusion mingling inside of you. “What do you mean by that?”

“Yeah,” Minho cut in angrily, “what do you mean by that, councilman Jung? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, you were the same person that suggested we force the Azure kingdom to surrender since you believed that they would not agree to our terms. But they have, and Princess Y/N seated here beside us is living proof of that.”

“O-Of course, Your Majesty, I didn't mean to—”

“Not to mention that I do not appreciate your accusatory and rude tone. You spoke as if doubting the validity of this union. The official wedding ceremony will be held shortly, but that doesn't give you a reason to spout such denunciatory ies.”

The rest of the council was quiet, everyone holding their breaths as they watched the brawl between the cantankerous councilman and the Prince.

“To bring this meeting to an end, I propose that we go with the Princess' idea. She made many righteous points and I believe that this is the minimum we can do for our entire nation to remain prosperous.” he shot councilman Jung a venomous glare, effectively silencing him.

“And lastly, I would like to add something that should have been obvious in the first place.”

Scanning the room, eyes lingering on each and every one of the men present. “In no way are you to ever disrespect the Princess in such a manner, have I made myself clear?”

“Transparent, Your Majesty.”

. ˚✧・* •

The man ground his teeth, nervously walking around the room with his hand curled in his hair. This wasn't what he wanted to hear on a fine Saturday morning, not at all.

A guard slipped into his room, handing him the folded piece of paper and whispering in his ear. “Everything will go according to plan. He folded under the pressure immediately and agreed to do as you say.”

At least there was some good news.

. ˚✧・* •

The Sun had already begun to set when you started to get ready for your much-anticipated dinner. Despite how excited and giddy you were, the anxiousness stored in the back of your mind prevailed, causing you to stress unnecessarily.

You opted to prepare another cup of fresh tea, the healer having brought another batch. It was an improved recipe, he told you, and before you even took a sip, you could smell the sharp scent of apricots filling your nostrils.

A few isolated petals of a blush pink hue floated amongst the mostly-clear liquid. You downed most of the tea in a long, drawn-out gulp. The loud ticking of the clock reminded you that you were indeed on a time crunch, so you stood up, heading towards your closet to pull out the prized item of clothing.

Placing the red gown against your body, you twirled around like a giggly twelve-year-old, your heart racing at what would become of today's evening. You gently peeled off your simple dress, slipping into the bright-red one. Shivers ran down your spine as the satin made contact with your heated skin, leaving a blissful trail of tranquility.

You tied the bow at the back, tightening the gown at your waist before looking in the mirror, a pleased smile forming on your lips.

All that was left now was to tie your hair into a slightly more intricate updo that you would usually do, followed by a light spritz of your favorite vanilla-scented perfume.

A sudden wave of nausea crashed over you.

You had to bring your back against the wall, inhaling deeply to calm your erratic heartbeat. ‘Everything will be okay,’ you tried to tell yourself, pressing your hands to your cheeks. There was no reason to be worried, but then why was your heart racing like a horse running through a field?

It was one of those… that supposed gut feeling that you've heard, even read of. But you merely ignored it, sliding on a plain, gold bracelet around your wrist that matched the golden hems and stitchings of your dress.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of your chambers, both excitement and qualm coursing through your veins.

. ˚✧・* •

The halls were unusually empty, void of the customary liveliness and buzz you had attuned to.

The sleeves of your gown draped over your shoulders comfortably as you walked towards the grand dining room where you were supposed to meet Minho.

You nearly felt on top of the world, so much having changed since you first arrived. It felt like you finally had something to look forward to in this union—perhaps—that you wouldn't be shackled to a loveless marriage as you had previously believed.

The room was just a few more turns away. You could already smell the unmistakable aroma of brassiered chicken and many other southern delicacies.

As the tip of your foot made contact with the ground, you felt like the world was being torn from under your feet. With a quiet gasp, you folded over like a ragdoll, falling limply to the ground. A sudden burst of cramps ramped through you, causing you to convulse on the floor, hoarse cries of pain leaving your dry lips.

Once the sudden rupture of pain came to a stop, you nearly moaned in relief. Sweat lined at your forehead as your hands tried to grasp against the marble floor, attempting to support you into a seating position. But to no avail.

It took approximately a minute or two for the world around you to go pitch black.

. ˚✧・* •

Tick tock.

Minho watched the grandfather clock tick on the wall, brows furrowing at your absence. It was currently six-forty… you were ten minutes late. If it weren't for the dozen or so maids and cooks lining the wall of the dining room, he wouldn't have been as worried as he was now.

‘News traveled fast,’ he recalled, and what other new gossip could there be on a fine Saturday evening if not something as scandalous as the Crown Princess standing up her fiancé.

It was highly unusual for you to be late, that was what struck him first. What's more, it would be nearly unheard of for you to turn up late knowing how important today's dinner was for your image, especially amongst the palace staff.

Adjusting the collar of his crisp white blouse underneath his navy suit, he swallowed thickly, brushing off the nonexistent dust from his pressed pants. The golden fastenings of his jacket clinked, grabbing the attention of the people around him.

He nervously bit down on his lip, ignoring the curious glances from some of the younger maids as he kept his eyes trained on the clock. He knew that there was one more thing on their minds right now, and it was undoubtedly the odd color of his outfit.

It was unusual for a Crimson ruler to adorn the colors of the perceived enemy. He was taking a huge gamble by wearing navy, but he had hoped that the sightings of the two of you each wearing the other nation's colors would stir something within the people.

‘I hope you comes soon,’ he thought, sighing at the sight of the now cold food…

. ˚✧・* •

Jisung was walking down the hall when he suddenly noticed something peeking from around the corner. It was a small tuft of red fabric, or at least it seemed like it from afar.

He began walking briskly towards the spot—it was highly unusual for the palace floors to be littered with anything, having been cleaned multiple times a day. As he was getting closer and closer, he could see more of this supposed ‘piece of cloth’, rather, it was beginning to look more like… an arm?

His eyes widened in surprise, mouth ajar as an unconscious body came into view, limbs twisted under a gorgeous red gown.

“Y/N?!” he cried when he finally recognized you, his insides clenching at the sight. Your lips were parted, a sliver of drool on your cheeks. Nearly instantly (or as quickly as his shocked state allowed him to), he bent down to your level, fingers pressing to your neck to check your pulse.

‘Thank god,’ he thought, feeling the albeit slowed drumming of your heart. His hands slid under your body, hoisting you up with a grunt. His stomach was still aching from having been kicked there repeatedly by the General, but the adrenaline proved to do wonders for him once again as he briskly walked down the hall, heading for your bed chambers.

When he passed a maid, he immediately ordered, “The Princess is unconscious! Go get the palace healer and inform His Majesty about it.”

The girl hastily nodded, running off in what he presumed to be the direction of the infirmary.

. ˚✧・* •

For the nth time in the past few weeks, Minho felt his heart plummet to the depths of the sea. There was a weird buzz in his head, one that drowned out everything else, as the last bits of cohesion exited his body.

He had just been informed that you were taken into the infirmary by Jisung and that he requested for him to come as soon as possible.

When he had hoped there was a solid reason as to why you didn't arrive, this wasn't what he had meant.

Before he even knew it, his legs were carrying him in the direction of your bed chambers, heart erratically pounding against his ribcage. His ears suddenly picked up on what seemed to be an argument between two males. The closer he got to your room, the louder he heard one of them scream while the other begged for him to stop.

What the hell was going on?

His question was answered as soon as he burst through the door, panting, eyes scanning the room. He noticed you lying on the bed, frumpled, with your limbs curled under the sheets. Your face displayed a twisting of emotions, mainly pain, and exhaustion and it looked like you were knee-deep in a living nightmare.

Before he could come up to you and check how you were doing, he noticed something that concerned him highly.

In the corner of the room kneeled Jisung, pressing Seungmin to the floor, rage written all over his face. The healer underneath him thrashed in his hold, begging to be released.

“I'll ask you again: what the fuck did you put in that cup?” he growled in his ear, twisting his arms against his back. Seungmin writhed, bitting down on his lip. “I-I didn't do anything—you must've been mistaken!”

The two of them seems so engrossed in the brawl that they didn't even notice the Prince standing above them, livid.

“What's going on?”

His tone was dripping in authoritativeness, anger licking away at his insides. Both Seungmin and Jisung immediately snapped their heads towards the Prince, the latter spluttering to form a coherent answer.

“I brought Y/N inside and asked for them to call for you and a healer. This guy over here tried sneaking something into her water while I was tending to her.”

Minho's eye twitched as he glanced at Seungmin with newfound anger. “Is that true, Seungmin? Should I expect the palace healer to sneak things into people's drinks now?”

“Y-Your Majesty, I-I was merely…”

“You were merely what, Seungmin? I'm dying to know here,” he replied venomously.

“I-I… okay, I admit I did it, okay?” he suddenly burst out, tears streaming down his cheeks. Both Minho and Jisung watched him, stunned.

“You admit to what?” Jisung grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up until he was facing him directly. “What did you do?”

“I… the General… he,” Seungmin hiccuped, “He threatened me and my family. He said he would make me and my family suffer if I didn't…”

Minho clenched his fists, nearly growling, “What did he tell you to do? Answer me!” All of his attention was on the young healer, rage coursing through him.

“He made me add poison to her tea!”

Silence. If he had tried, he could've heard a pin drop.

Then, all the muscles in his face contorted into a mask of pure fury and disgust. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, nearly drawing blood as he pushed Jisung away, grabbing the trembling healer and pinning him against the wall.

His stare was icy, venomous, even but what scared Seungmin, even more, was the calmness in his voice when he spoke, “What did you put in her tea?”

“I-I'm not sure… the General just gave me a s-small pouch of flowers and told me to add it to her tea mixture. I r-really don't know, please…” he cowered under his stare, trembling.

His pathetic sobs were interrupted by a loud cough coming from your bed. Minho immediately let go, running towards you as Seungmin's body slumped to the ground, quiet sobs wracking through him.

“Y/N,” he called out for you, gently moving your head to the side so you were facing him. Your cheeks were warm, just like the rest of your body, and you felt unimaginably dizzy like the entire world was spinning around you.

“M-Minho,” you croaked, pupils dilating as you clutched onto his hand like it was your lifebuoy. “I-I feel sick…”

His heart cracked upon hearing your voice… so broken. “I-I…”

Before he could even say anything, something burst through the door, causing him to look up.

Or rather, someone.

“What happened?” Chan panted, directing the question at Jisung, but Minho was the one who answered, bsikly explaining what he had heard from Jisung and the servant.

“The Princess was poisoned?” a higher voice shouted in disbelief, only coming to view as she stepped out from behind Chan, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

Minho seemed to recognize her from passing, but couldn't exactly place her face. Her hair was swept into a simple bun and she was dressed in a plain dress with an apron, making Minho believe she was one of the maids.

“I-I, uh, if I may, Your Majesty,” she gestured in your general direction, averting the Prince's eyes. “May I have a look? I have some knowledge in toxins and maybe I could…”

“Please,” he cut her off weakly, “Go ahead.”

Yuna crouched down beside you, wiping the sweat off your forehead with her sleeve. “How are you feeling, Your Majesty?”

“Y-Yuna,” you smiled at her, hand reaching to grab hers. “How have you been?”

“I'm sorry, I don't think it's the proper time to discuss this now,” she turned around at the three men behind her. “Please bring me some water and a clean cloth.”

Once Chan handed her the filled washbasin and a rag, she dipped the fabric in the water and placed it over your forehead.

“I'll need you to tell me exactly how you're feeling…”

You began to describe the type of pain you're going through, the nausea, and the pounding of your head. Yuna took notice of the way your pupils dilated, the gears in her head spinning as she tried to figure out what could've caused your poisoning. After all, the first step to finding an antidote was identifying the poison.

Suddenly, she turned around with a jerk, scanning the room. “Do you still have the mug she drank the tea from?”

Jisung immediately sprung up, grabbing two that were on your table and handing them over to the girl.

“It's useless,” Seungmin rasped from the corner of the room, guilt written all over his face. “The General was positive that it would be over once she drank it,” he supplied unhelpfully, ignoring the nasty glares he received.

Despite the healers' words, Yuna looked inside the first mug, frowning when she saw nothing. It was empty. When she began inspecting the second one, a gasp erupted from her throat as she dropped it.

The ceramic mug shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces.

“T-That was a petal from…” she turned around to look at them, all hanging on her lips. “T-The Nerium Oleander…”

Chan frowned darkly, having heard the name somewhere before. “Isn't that the flower they used to poison—”

“Y-Yeah… it's how the Prince of the West was poisoned hundreds of years ago.”

Minho glowered, remembering the story from a passage in his history book. It was the most infamous case of poisoning, something remembered by all. His heart clenched at the thought of you facing the same end.

“I-Isn't there anything you can do?” he pleaded, voice cracking midway as he glanced back at you, tossing and turning in your bed.

“I—” she bit down on her lip, eyebrows furrowing as she racked her brain for a solution.

“I'm not sure about this,” she began, running a hand through her hair, “But I believe I read about garlic having particularly good antitoxins for poisonings such as this one.”

“Whatever you need, tell me… I'll bring it to you,” Minho pleaded.

“Okay. I'll need a few cloves of garlic, some activated charcoal, and a medicine trunk—preferably the one from the main infirmary.”

. ˚✧・* •

An excruciating ten minutes later, Minho returned, panting. He handed Yuna all the things and she immediately got to work, carefully propping you against the headboard. Your head lolled to the side, eyes struggling to stay open.

She added a spoonful of the black powder into a cup of water, thoroughly mixing it. When it all dissolved, she pressed the cup to your lips, gently tipping your head backward. “You have to drink this, Your Majesty.”

In your weakened state, you gulped down the dark liquid, gagging at the nasty texture. Once you finished, Yuna handed you a glass of plain water which you gratefully accepted. “This will make sure you get the full dose,” she explained.

“Now,” she chopped up the garlic into thin pieces, placing it in the mortar with some other herbs, “I'll prepare this paste for you to eat. It won't be tasty, but it should hopefully combat the toxins from the oleander.”

Once finished preparing created the foul-smelling paste, she fed it to you in spoonfuls. You groggily swallowed it down, clutching onto the sheets with newfound vigor. Who knew, maybe you'd even survive this ordeal…

You took the moment to survey the room, finally feeling conscious enough to gather what had exactly gone down. You saw Seungmin crouched in the corner of the room, head in his hands. Chan and Jisung were sitting by the table, both distressed.

Last but not least, Minho was standing, his back propped against the wall. His hair was disheveled, matted locks pressed to his forehead and a singular tear ran down his cheek, causing your heart to shatter.

It took you a few moments to register what he was wearing. The navy suit hugged his body and showed off his built physique, the golden fastenings only adding to the whole visage. It dawned upon you that he'd chosen to wear your nation's colors, just like you would've worn the scarlet dress.

“Minho,” you suddenly croaked, catching the attention of everyone in the room. The Prince's head snapped toward you, eyes watering. He immediately ran to your bed, kneeling beside you as he grabbed your hand in his, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

“How are you feeling?”

A loud cough tore from your throat, promptly providing him with an answer. “Oh, Y/N… everything will be okay, alright? I-I promise…”

Then he turned around, gaze hardening. “Captain,” he looked at Chan, hands clenching into fists. “I want you to go find General Lee and arrest him at once.”

Venom was dripping from his tone, and Chan immediately understood that this wasn't just a question. It was a command.

“Where should I put him, Your Majesty?”

“The dungeon,” he muttered darkly. “I want him locked up with all the criminals he had put behind bars himself.”

Chan saluted, running off to find the General.

Meanwhile, Yuna finished preparing the antidote, a sigh of relief escaping her parted lips. “I'm done, Your Majesty. Quickly, we don't have much time to spare.”

You promptly opened your mouth, allowing her to feed you spoonfuls of the potent mixture. Your gag reflex was activated as soon as the bitter flavor attacked your tastebuds, but knowing what would happen if you refused, you involuntarily swallowed down every last bit.

“Water, p-please,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling like you would throw up. Minho jumped to his feet, filling up the cup from the pitcher and bringing it to your lips. He benevolently tipped the cup, supporting the back of your head with his palm. As you greedily gulped down the liquid, he threaded his fingers between your locks, tenderly massaging your scalp.

“What should we do now?” he asked Yuna, placing the cup on the nightstand. The girl looked at him with wide eyes, nervously twirling a strand of hair between her finger.

“Now… now we wait. If I did everything correctly, the antidote should be contouring the poison. Her Majesty will have to rest for a few days, that's for sure—no exerting her mind or body—but after that, she should make a full recovery. But if I didn't…”

“No,” he cut her off. “Don't say that. I'm sure you did everything that you could and I trust you, alright?”

She smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

“You should go rest up. I'll stay here with Y/N and make sure everything is alright. I'll call for you if anything happens.”

. ˚✧・* •

The following days were some of the hardest moments in Minho's life.

However, the excruciating pain he went through while having to watch you writhe in discomfort didn't compare to the suffering you had to be going through.

Despite his exhaustion showing in many ways, namely the dark circles under his eyes and his clothes sticking to his sweaty body. All and all, he felt almost disgusting, but he refused to leave you side for more than a few minutes.

After a few days, it was obvious that you would make a recovery. Minho nearly weeped in joy when you suddenly sat up, looking him dead in the eye as you muttered, “You stink.”

He breathed out a short laugh, a light, husky sound that you thought was beautiful.

“How are you feeling?” he then asked, eyes watering as he took in your whole body, relief washing over him.

“I'm fine, just a bit numb,” you answered truthfully, lifting your hand above your head in an attempt to stretch your sore muscles. “Although I am craving some chicken pie…”

Minho chuckled, patting the top of your head with a gentle laugh. “On it!”

It was later that night that you realized how incredibly lucky you were as the two of you each enjoyed a few slices of chicken pie.

. ˚✧・* •

“Please, Minho,” you stubbornly jutted your lower lip, throwing your sock-clad feet in the air as you watched your fiancé button up his blouse. His expression remained stone-cold, but you could already see the cracks in his resolve.

“Why won't you let me come see him? If I'm going to be the Queen, I should at least be able to face my enemies, don't you think?” And in a much quieter tone, you added, “I'd at least want to know what made him hate me enough to try to poison me…”

“Y/N,” Minho sighed, rubbing his temples. “I really don't think it's a good idea for you to see him right now—you're supposed to be resting, remember?”

“I know,” you groaned, “but it's been over a week—I'm fine now, okay? Besides,” you gave a lopsided smirk, “If you don't want me to exert myself, you can always just carry me there…”

Minho blushed at your words, clumsily buttoning the last button up on his shirt. “I, uh, still… I really don't like the idea of you being in the vicinity of that bastard.”

With the way his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a thought popped up in your head. “By any chance… you didn't,” the words dried in your mouth, “you didn't hurt him, did you?”

The Prince immediately understood what you meant by the word hurt. You were asking him if he had tortured, or perhaps even killed the young General who had dared to commit the highest form of treason. To be fair, Minho had all the prerogative to do as he pleased with him after he'd attempted a hand at the future Queen's life.

A slow, controlled breath left his lips. “No, I didn't. I had thought about it though, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't even bring myself to face him. The two of us grew up together for God's sake.”

You could hear the frustration in his tone as you gently rubbed his back in hopes of soothing his nerves. “But you know what angers me the most?”

Knowing that it was a rhetorical question, you didn't answer, allowing him to continue. “I hate the fact that I didn't see it coming. I noticed that he behaved a bit weird around you, but I chalked it up to him looking out for me, wanting to make sure I marry someone he deemed worthy…”

“Minho, please, don't blame yourself for something that was out of your control. It's no surprise that you didn't see it coming—nobody suspects the people closest to them, that's just how it is.”

“I know,” he released a shaky breath, “But I can't help but feel like I failed you.”

“Oh please,” your hand reached to cup his cheek, “Don't say that. Now let's go, I think there's a General waiting for us to visit.”

“Alright, but you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, suppressing the smirk that formed at the corners of your mouth. “Sure.”

“Stay behind me at all times, alright? The dungeon's a dangerous place and knowing that you'll be going there without being able to protect yourself makes my skin crawl.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, “I'll stay by your side.”

. ˚✧・* •

The stairs leading to the dungeon were dark and damp, the pungent smell of mold causing your nostrils to flare. Minho was walking in front of you, your hand clasped in his as he carefully guided you down the spiral staircase.

Once you arrived, your eyes flew from one side to the other, taking in the crumbling stone walls.

There were about a dozen or so cells in the dungeon, and only about half of them were occupied. On the far left, you spotted a mop of silver curls, akin to Felix's. You quietly pointed in that direction, whispering, “Is that him?”

“Yeah.”

Slowly but surely, Minho walked up to his old friend, an odd sense of fake confidence to his steps. You trailed behind him, fire in your eyes as you awaited the moment you'd come face to face with the man who plotted your near-murder.

The closer you came, the more your heart plummeted in your chest. The heels of your boots clanked against the cold stone, complimenting the pitter-patter of the water draining down the sewage system.

“General Lee,” Minho spat out venomously, hand reaching to push you behind his body. You nearly rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, but you found it endearing nonetheless.

Felix's head was slumped down, facing the ground as the two of you approached. More than two weeks had passed since his arrest, and the harsh conditions of the dungeon were beginning to take an evident toll on him.

“Felix,” you finacé called again after he didn't respond, worry beginning to show on his face. “Answer me.”

Slowly but surely, the General raised his head, not bothering to straighten his posture that was held down by the shackles holding his wrists above his head. His bloodshot eyes were oddly glassy, a shiver running down your spine once you made eye contact.

“Well well… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Minho growled, “don't be cheeky with me, Felix. Not after you've committed the highest form of treason.”

The man attempted to raise his hands up in defense, an apologetic smile appearing on his lips when he was stopped mid-way by the bounds on his wrists. “Then why has the royal couple decided to pay me a visit?”

“You should already know by now,” Minho clenched his fists, tearing his gaze from his once close friend, “that I want answers. I want to know what made you do the things you did, Felix?”

The frustration in his tone was evident, and you wished you could just take him from this place. Your earlier need to see Felix face to face diminished into dust.

“You know,” Felix suddenly spoke up, his grave tone echoing in the dimly-lit room, “I've always been jealous of what you had.”

After a short pause, he continued. “The money, the fame, the love… it felt like you had the entire world at your fingertips, while I had to wrestle through all the stages of life with nothing to my name… not even a home to return to.”

“Felix… I-I—”

“No, Your Majesty,” Felix cut him off pointedly. “This isn't just about poor orphaned Felix. No. This about who made me an orphan in the first place!”

To say that Minho was stunned would be a gross understatement. His eyes were filled with confusion as he peered down at the man he once considered his closest friend. The two of them grew up nearly side by side, and if it weren't for Minho’s royal duties kicking in prematurely due to his older brother's death, they likely would've been even closer.

“I-I don't understand… if you hated me so much, why did you pretend to be my friend all your life? Not to mention, why were you after Y/N in the first place? She didn't do anything!”

The tremor in his voice became clearer, something that you noticed when his hands began shaking. “I still don't get it, Felix… you tried to kill her for fucks sake! When she didn't do anything to deserve it…”

Suddenly, he looked straight at you, locking eyes with you as he snarled, something akin to anger and resentment bubbling up in his throat. “Maybe she didn't, but her worthless scummy people definitely did.”

Felix's eyes darkened with an emotion you weren't able to place, and if looks could kill, both you and Minho would be six feet under.

“You know,” he growled, hands jerking in the binds, “our father was a real piece of work.”

“Our? What the hell are you talking about, Felix,” Minho snapped in bewilderment. What was going on? Why was he feeling like he was about to hear something he didn't like?

“He thought he got rid of all of them,” his voice cracked midway, causing your heart to shatter. “B-But my mother managed to run away with me and hide near the northern border.”

Finally finding your voice, you whispered, “A-Are you trying to say that—”

Instead of answering your question, Felix's hands burst into flames, the fiery inferno licking away at the metal cuffs. A maniacal laugh tore from his throat, causing you to freeze in your spot.

The metal binds around his wrists began to melt, silver liquid dripping down on the floor. His eyes were darkened, and frankly, it was the most scared you'd felt in your life. Utterly terrified would fit better.

The General, after having regained footing, walked up to the metal bars, the only thing separating him from you and Minho. A lopsided smirk appeared on his face as he whispered, “didn't realize you had a younger brother, did you, Minho?”

The way he said his name… you could tell it stupified the Prince. His eyes were wide, hands trembling as he stood rooted to his spot, unable to tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. Hearing Felix address him like that sure did a number on him, especially hearing the venom dripping from his tone.

It was like he was talking to a completely different person.

His lips parted, and in a soft breath, he whispered, “Do you know what happened to us after that?”

A gentle shake of the head was enough of an indicator for him to continue. “The Azure soldiers raided the village and killed my mother. I was locked in the basement as she let out her last breath.”

And then, almost instantly, fire erupted in his eyes. He grinned uncontrollably, hand surging forward as a mass of fire, shaped into a sharp dagger cut through the air.

“NO!” you screamed, realizing what he was about to do. Your hand shot forward, grabbing onto your fiancé's tunic, and in a frenzy, you pulled back, both of you falling to the ground.

You winced under his weight, wheezing before you noticed the small burn mark on Minho's cheek. He was dumbfoundedly rubbing at the gash as if he was still processing what had just happened, blood seeping through his fingers.

By now, the guards must have had heard the hubbub as a dozen or so soldiers ran down, bursting through the door and making quick work of restraining the former General.

And what worried you the most was how easily he let them take hold of him. Not once did he attempt to fight back, even though you were positive that he could've obliterated them with his newly-revealed powers. And even without them, General Felix was undoubtedly one of the most feared swordsmen and fighters in the nation.

As two of the guards escorted you and Minho out of the dungeon, you couldn't help but turn around one last time, catching Felix's smug leer.

“This isn't over,” he mouthed with a grin, holding your gaze for a few more seconds before one of the guards rammed his head into the cobblestone.

. ˚✧・* •

The chirping outside the window caused you to stir in your sleep, sighing as you cuddled back into your fiancé's toned chest.

“Are you awake?” his raspy woke you up, a whine escaping your lips. “As a matter of fact, I wasn't…”

A throaty chuckle left his parted lips, a sound you found wholly attractive, but you'd never tell him that. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to him, enjoying the warmth he exuded. It was on days like these that you were grateful that Minho slept shirtless.

After the unpleasant incident with Felix in the dungeons, he insisted on taking an entire week off. It was something that the two of you desperately needed—some alone time to heal from the unsettling experience.

All and all, you were happy Minho had made that choice. The two of you got to spend loads of quality time together, indulging in each other's presence. The mornings were particularly nice, especially when Minho pampered you with kisses, his wolfish hands running all over your body.

“Did you drink your medicine yesterday?” he murmured in your ear.

“Yes, mom,” you rolled your eyes. He had been asking you the exact same question for the past week, making sure you drank the herbal mixture that would revert the toxins from the poisoned tea you had been unknowingly drinking.

A sudden smack echoed through the room.

“Minho,” you cried, rubbing your sore bottom. “That hurt!”

The Prince chuckled, a teasing grip on his lips. “Oops, my bad.”

Turning around, you stared him in the eye, pouting. “You just wanted an excuse to slap my butt, didn't you?”

He huffed in response, “Please, that was just a light tap.”

Despite your best efforts to hide the corners of your mouth lifted up into a smile, “Two can play this game, you know?”

Minho's eyes widened when you reached out your arm and smacked his bum. “Ouch! That's not fair, you hit me a lot harder!”

His whines were cut short as a sudden knock sounded through the room. The both of you stilled, holding in the bursts of laughter. Something like this was always bound to happen at the funniest moments.

“What is it?” Minho called, too lazy to get out of bed. His hand was gently stroking your cheek, a gesture that always made you melt into his touch.

“Your Majesty! The dressmakers will arrive shortly. Where should we house them?”

“Give them one of the larger rooms in the southern wing. You can tell them that Her Majesty will be ready at noon.”

You grasped Minho's hand in yours, entwining your fingers. “The dressmakers?”

“Yeah. I requested the most famous tailor to design your wedding dress. She only works with the highest quality fabrics and is known throughout the kingdom.”

“Minho,” you murmured. “You didn't have to go that far. If it came down to it, I'd marry you in a jute bag if I had to. ”

“Nonsense,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, heat rising to your face. “I only want the best for my angel.”

“Ever the romantic,” you snorted, pulling him closer. Your nose bumped into his collar bones, inhaling the scent of his musky cologne.

“Only for you, baby.”

After a while, Minho dragged you out of bed, claiming that the two of you needed to go on with your days. You enjoyed a hearty breakfast before you were forced to separate—you heading towards the dressmaker while Minho went to take care of some paperwork.

. ˚✧・* •

“Your Majesty,” the woman, Chaeryoung, greeted you with a curtsy, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. Even at first sight, you could tell that she had impeccable taste. Her gown looked like something straight out of a fairytale causing you to open your mouth in awe.

Clasping her hands together, she chirped, “Let's get you dressed in some of my finished pieces so we can get an idea of what suits you best, alright?”

Two hours and approximately twenty dresses later, you were finally done. The design you two came up with was still in the works, but you've established a few key elements.

Firstly, the dress would be made out of angora silk—the softest and most expensive type of silk there was. Heat rose to your cheeks when Chaeryoung told you, squashing your meek protests.

“I will not tolerate anything less for the Queen's wedding dress.”

Secondly, you decided on the silhouette; a basque, ballgown-like overskirt that flared at the waist with lace trimmings. It was a rather pompous design in your opinion, but Chaeryoung assured you that you would look fantastic. And in a sense, you would be fulfilling your childhood dream of wearing a princess-like gown at your own wedding so without much reluctance, you agreed.

Your hair would be pinned up into a twisted low bun with some scarlet peonies woven in—a simple updo that wouldn't take too much attention off your face. On top of that, you'd adorn a modest, sheer veil with jewels at the hem.

Stretching your arms above your head, you stepped into Minho's bedroom, plopping yourself on the bed. The sheets were infused with his smell, something you had come to love while falling asleep by his side.

. ˚✧・* •

“You know, I never actually brought anyone here,” Minho mused as the two of you walked through the secluded park hand in hand, his warm palm enveloping yours.

“How come?” you piped, looking at him intently, a bright sort of curiosity glimmering in your eyes. The palace gardens were vast, in fact, you figured they could've been bigger than the grounds of your palace back in the Azure land.

His eyes suddenly filled with sorrow, “My brother used to take me here all the time when we were little.”

“Oh,” the word left your lips in a partial breath, immediately feeling guilty for having asked in the first place. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no. Don't be,” Minho responded, “It's okay, don't worry. I'm just happy that I get to spend some time with you. I'm sure my brother would've liked you a lot…”

“You think so?”

His hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his chest. “I know it.” A teasing smirk appeared on his face as he pinched your side, leaning down and connecting your lips in a heated kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but eventually, you melted into his embrace, hands sliding around his neck to tug at the strands of his hair.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, pulling away in a breathless daze. “I-I… thank you. For everything.”

The sincerity in his eyes almost made your knees buckle, your hand reaching to caress his face. It wasn't usual for Minho to show vulnerability, and you were happy he felt comfortable enough with you to share such personal moments with.

You leaned towards him, pressing your lips to his in a much shorter sweet peck, smiling brightly. “He would've been so proud of you, Min.”

Minho looked puzzled for a second, before a look of understanding spread across his face. Warmth filled his orbs as he leaned down to press a kiss to the curve of your jaw, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Then, he gently brushed the hair out of your face before he kneeled down on one knee. Taken aback, you lifted your brow, unsure of what he was doing. The light breeze tousled the locks in front of his eyes, the scene beginning to remind you of one straight from a romance novel.

“Y/N,” he began, gazing into your eyes with such intensity it made your head spin. “You know, I never would've expected to fall in love with you,” he spoke softly into the whistling wind, breaking your gaze for a second.

“Our first meeting was surrounded with unpleasant circumstances, but because of that, I feel like I can appreciate the bond we've built even more.”

You nodded wordlessly, silently agreeing with every word he said. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before he continued, “And I've come to realize how wonderful of a person you are. Never in the twenty-two years I've been alive have I met someone as kind and selfless as you, not to mention you're a real goddess,” he added with a wink.

“Minho—” you spluttered, feeling bashful under the waterfall of compliments he was issuing you. “I-I, uh, I mean…”

“It's okay,” he pressed his thumb to your lower lip, effectively silencing you. “Let me do all the talking, sweetheart.”

When you nodded timidly, he carried on, “And one afternoon, I realized that I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I want to wake up by your side every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want us to rule the land together and start a family with you.”

His hand dug into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box. He opened it with ease, holding out the delicate ring with a small ruby stone in the middle.

“Y/N, I'm asking you not as the Prince, not as the future King, but as Minho… Lee Minho. Will you marry me?”

You brought your trembling hand to your mouth, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you whimpered, “Y-Yes. I'd l-love to…”

A relaxed smile appeared on his lips, previously tense shoulders relaxing as he slipped the wedding band on your ring finger. It fit like a glove. Bringing your hand to his mouth, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, holding in the joyful screams that chafed at his throat.

You placed your hand onto his cheek, pulling his head up so you could lock lips once again, the warm tears searing your flesh.

And just like that, the two of you enjoyed your last week together before the wedding preparations came in full throttle.

. ˚✧・* •

“Minho, please,” you burst into your now shared bedroom with pleading eyes, “Help me hide!”

“What did you do this time?” your fiancé raised a brow, an amused chuckle escaping his parted lips. He was sprawled across the bed, long legs nearly dangling off the edge of the mattress with a leather-bound book in his hand.

You hated to admit it, but Minho could pull off anything while looking sinfully attractive.

Shutting the door behind you gently, you took a deep breath to steady you heartbeat. After all, you had run all the way from the southern wing. “For your information, I didn't do anything. But they were gonna make me choose what color napkins I want for the reception. Do you hear that? Napkins—”

Minho had to stifle a laugh at the frustration in your tone, sitting up to pull you onto his lap. You fell into his hold with a slight yelp, heat rising to your cheeks at the close proximity.

“How 'bout I make it up to you, baby?”

The blood stilled in your veins at his flirtatious words, immediately feeling yourself curl into a ball at his playful actions. Minho noticed the change instantly, guilt washing over him.

“Hey, hey,” he cupped your cheek, tilting your head upwards until you had no choice but to look at straight at him. His chocolate orbs held nothing but fondness, which helped you relax into his touch. “There's no need to be shy, Princess. I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

You leaned in closer, resting your head against his chest and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “I'm sorry, I know you'd never do anything like that,” your breath hitched in your throat. “I'm just a bit nervous about the wedding, that's all.”

“Why are you nervous? Are the preparations not going well?”

You shook your head softly, “No, that's not that. I'm just anxious about how the people will think of me as their new Queen…”

“We've been over this a million times,” Minho murmured against the top of your head, gently rubbing your back. “And my initial opinion still stands—they will love you. You're a good person and sooner or later, they'll realize that you have their best intentions at heart.”

“I hope you're right,” you sighed. He responded with a smile, “Don't worry. I know I'm right…”

Then, he leaned down until his lips were ghosting above yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

Afraid that the words wouldn't leave your mouth, you nodded, fluttering your lashes as he sealed your lips with a heated kiss. You felt heat spread all across your body, as if the warmth from his lips was seeping into your every cell. His hands slowly lowered from your waist to your thighs, the pads of his thumbs gently running over the sensitive skin.

It sent electric jolts that went straight to your stomach, warmth pooling at your belly. You pressed yourself closer to him, mewling at the feeling of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

After what felt like eternity, Minho disconnected your lips with a groan, lips curling into a teasing grin.

“I think this has been a long day for you. Wanna cuddle before we go to sleep?”

“Yeah,” you yawned, exhaustion slowly taking over you. “I'd love that.”

. ˚✧・* •

The day had finally arrived.

After weeks upon weeks of meticulous and rigorous planning, you were finally about to step out and walk to the altar where your union would be officially sealed, the treaty officially coming into effect.

And despite the fact that you had been preparing for this moment nearly your entire life, your heart felit like it would jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.

You would be marrying Minho today.

You would become the Queen.

And for some reason, you felt a tug at your chest. Fear and excitement were coursing through you, the stark contrast of emotions swirling inside of you like a tornado.

Your hand dropped to your chest, picking up the shimmering, crystal pendant that Minho gifted you a few days prior.

“Your Majesty,” Yuna's voice sounded through the wooden door, causing you to look up. “You'll be up in a few minutes.”

Taking a deep breath, you mustered all your energy to respond in a calm and collected way. “Of course… I'm coming.”

Stepping out of the dressing room, you readjusted your dress at the waist, smoothing down the nonexistent creases on your robe. The soft silk felt like heaven under your fingertips, and you grinned appreciatively at the delicate lace hems.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, Your Majesty,” Yuna giggled, unable to hold it in. Her hands immediately reached to readjust the red peonies woven into your hair, making sure that everything was in place.

It all went by in a blur; you were suddenly pushed down the aisle, a chorus of cheers and applause ringing through your ears. The velvet carpet crunched under your heels, and to your surprise, you noticed that the edges of the rug were lined with fresh peonies, not unlike the ones in your hair.

It seemed like Minho was really pushing this whole flower aesthetic, and if you were honesty, you were living for it.

When your eyes met, it felt like fireworks erupted in your chest. Minho had impeccable taste, that much you knew, but this was the first time you'd seen him dressed to the nines like this.

A crisp white suit adorned his body, the snug fit merely accentuating his broad shoulders. His russet hair was gelled to the back, revealing his forehead with only a few strands falling from the slick updo.

You nearly gasped when you saw the azure colored pocket square was neatly arranged in his breast pocket, the shade unmistakenly reminding you of your nation's true colors.

Everything went quiet, the screams and the hollers of the people dying out in favor of all the eyes slowly gravitating towards you. You could feel every single pair of orbs on you, a shiver running down your spine. As you walked down the aisle with the large, orchid bouquet in hand, your eyes locked once more. He gently took ahold of your hand, the two of you walking the last steps to the altar together.

“Princess Y/N of the Azure nation, do you take Prince Minho as your lawful husband that you will cherish in sickness and health and promise to stay faithful to for as long as the two of you shall live?”

Inhaling, you responded, loud and clear, “I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Everyone cheered, throwing their hands in the air as Minho pressed a kiss to your lips. It was short and sweet, yet managed to convey so many emotions, like hope and promise for a better future.

Your finger was now adorned with two rings; the one he proposed with and the simple wedding band that matched his.

Never in your entire life had you felt such a rush of endorphins. Blood was coursing through your veins, the excitement, and the atmosphere filling you with a sense of warmth.

Minho suddenly grabbed your hand, raising it above your head with a smirk. “Do you wanna show them?”

You nodded almost instantly, knowing what he wanted to do. Simultaneously, frozen icicles shot from your hand, bursting through the air as Minho did the same, except it was fire that was bursting from his fingertips.

The crowd started cheering at the showy display of power as loud chants tore from their throats.

“Long live the Queen!”

. ˚✧・* •

Jisung was watching you from the swarm of people, craning his neck to watch you from his seat in the fourth row. Next to him, Chan glanced down at him, clearly worried for his friend as he mumbled, “Are you sure you're okay?”

He nodded in response, refusing to tear his eyes from the scene in front of him. Minho had just kissed you in front of the entire kingdom. He knew he should've been happy for you, especially after seeing that genuine smile on your lips along with the glimmer in your eye.

But Jisung couldn't help himself from feeling a pang of jealousy in his heart as he watched you and Minho's hands connect. Despite knowing that you were now married to another man, he couldn't just let go of his feelings for you.

And as he watched the two of you smile at each other from under your lashes, gazing into each other's eyes like lovestruck fools, Jisung's heart shriveled up in his chest like a decaying flower on a summer evening, blown away by the breeze till nothing was left but dust.

. ˚✧・* •

epilogue:

A maniacal laugh tore from his throat as he perked his ears. He could hear the wedding bells all the way down here.

The freezing temperature no longer affected him, skin having grown numb to it a long time ago, and the damp smell seeped through every thread of his tunic, irreversibly marking it with its unbearable stench.

His eyes glimmered under the moonlight, sharp and cunning as always. He was a calculative man, for sure, and right now, he was weighing out his odds.

Perhaps escaping wouldn't be as hard as he had initially thought…

a/n: my longest piece to date :) I hope you enjoyed and I applaud you for coming so far! please please let me know your thoughts :< it's what keeps me going on here :> also, shout out to the people that can recognise who was based off of who (as in which character from subZero)...

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