#minho suggestive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chvnnie · 2 years

Text

stray kids as dads

skz ot8 x reader

word count: 13.9k (1k-2k per member)

genre: fluff, some suggestive content, a dash of angst with minho - MINORS DNI

warnings: illness (stomach bug - chan), mentions of birth, jisung gets a lil mopey, mentions of food, almost oral (seungmin, fem receiving), it's just really fluffy tbh. if i missed anything - PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: a day in the life of dad stray kids

a/n: i have baby fever and i'm making it everyone's problem. also sometimes i write fluff - this brought me lots of comfort so i hope it does for you as well.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents stray kids members as people or the band as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess

Bang Chan

When you’re expecting, everyone tells you to get all the sleep you can, because it’ll be a while before you get a full night’s sleep again. All these things about “sleep when the baby sleeps” or “you won’t ever be able to catch up”. In Chan’s case, he found the lack of sleep the easiest part of parenting. He never slept anyway, what difference did a baby make?

Chan functions best between the hours of midnight and 5 am, which made him the obvious choice to take over night time feedings/diaper changes. You were exhausted, Chan wasn’t, so what was the point in waking you up?

He spent most nights in his home studio after you fell asleep, keeping the baby monitor on full volume so he could run back upstairs when needed. Most nights, when the baby stirred, he would just take them back down to the studio with him, snuggling as he worked until they fell back asleep.

It was a great routine, and Chan was almost sad when all his kids started sleeping through the night. There was no need for a monitor in his studio anymore, nobody waking up for a midnight snack or just some cuddles - he wasn’t really needed at night anymore. Chan went to his home studio less and less at night, trying to adjust to everyone else’s sleep schedule. There were some positives to this; he got to fall asleep with you now instead of after you, he never missed family breakfast anymore, he got to take his kids to school. Following everyone else’s routine was better in the long run.

Even though he missed the one on one time he got with his kids. There was something special about those late night snuggles that he wasn’t able to recreate.

A stomach bug entered the Bang household suddenly and aggressively. It started with the oldest daughter. Chan got a call from her piano teacher to come pick her up from practice, saying that she had been vomiting aggressively for the past ten minutes. He broke many traffic laws racing to his daughter's school, and then just as many to get to the ER, just to be told it’s just a really shitty stomach bug.

The bug then began to bounce around, hitting his youngest daughter next. For two days, Chan ran between the girls’ bedrooms, bringing soup, gatorade, crackers - whatever they needed, he was right there to help him. He wanted to help them feel better while keeping you and the baby away from the bug. The last thing he wanted was for either of you to get sick. So, it made sense that the next person to get sick was himself.

Chan slept on the floor of the bathroom the first night. The tile was so cool against his body, which was so hot. He opened every window in your bedroom to try and cool his body off as he laid immobilized on the bed. The second day, you came in and shut the windows.

“I understand you’re hot, Chan, but it’s snowing outside.”

With all the strength he could muster, he rushed you out of the bedroom. The top floor of the house was ground zero, and now knowing first hand how awful this bug was, he wanted you as far away from him as possible.

The third day, Chan began to feel better. He was able to make it to the bathroom without having to stop for a break, and could successfully hold down soup. With the girls fully recovered, and Chan more than halfway there, he began to feel optimistic that the bug would skip over you.

Then, the baby got sick.

Within the next 10 hours, you started to vomit.

Chan was moved out of the bedroom and into his home studio so you and the baby could quarantine in there. From what Chan could tell, you got the worst of it. The first night he sat next to you while you sobbed into the toilet, afraid to leave because you didn’t know when the nausea was going to hit again. You could barely pick your son up, who weighed at least 10 pounds less than both the girls did at 15 months. Every time he cried, you would cry harder, feeling both miserable and guilty, like you were the one who got him sick.

The only positive was that both you and the baby slept, and slept hard. The physical exhaustion from vomiting and sweating all day meant you both were getting at least 12 hours a night. That was the only time Chan would leave your side, wandering down to the couch in his home studio.

Chan tried really, really hard to fall asleep that night. He took melatonin, drank sleepy time tea, even wore an eye mask to make sure it was completely dark. He just couldn’t shut his brain off. It was jumping all over the place - from worrying about you, to coming up with new track ideas. He couldn’t calm down enough to go to sleep.

Chan removed the eye mask to check the time on his phone. 11:00. He had been trying to fall asleep for 45 minutes without success.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to him before turning on the lights and powering up all his equipment.

If he couldn’t sleep, he sure as fuck could work.

///

2:45 am, and Chan was thanking whatever God he could that Jisung’s sleep schedule was just as fucked up as his.

“I just finished the hook for this track, if you want to give it a listen.” Jisung’s groggy voice filled the empty studio. “If you’re too tired, I get it. Just thought you might want to-“

“Nah, man. I’m wide awake. Send it.” Chan said, clicking open his email to get ready for the track.

He listened to Jisung’s keyboard click as he waited. “Sent. Everyone in your house still feeling bad?”

The notification popped up before Chan could even refresh the page. “Almost everyone. The girls are feeling better, for the most part. I still feel a bit nauseous but not bad. Not as bad as…”

“Yeah, no, we got it too.” Jisung sighed. “I’m the only one who hasn’t started throwing up, so I’ve been on newborn duty.”

Chan smiled to himself, remembering when his kids were that small and the long nights spent together in the same room he was in now. “That was my favorite part.”

“Of course it was. You never sleep, it makes sense for you to take on the night shift.”

“I mean, true. But god, the alone time with them? The way their weight felt against my chest as they slept while I worked? There’s nothing like it. I miss it.”

Jisung chuckled softly. “I get that. Being needed is always nice.”

The conversation ended there, as Chan pulled up the track to review it. He smiled while listening to it; Jisung never produced a bad track, even if he hated hearing it.

“Ji, man. You just get better everyday.” Chan said as soon as the track ended.

“Shut the fuck up. The beat at 15 seconds sounds funny-“

“It’s different, but it flows well with the rest of the song.” Chan saved the track to his computer. “I want to play around with it a bit but I doubt there’s any adjustments I need to make. It’s fucking good.”

He could hear Jisung getting flustered on the other end of the phone. “You can change whatever you need. I have some other-“ his friend was cut off by a sudden wailing noise in the background. “Again? She literally fell asleep an hour ago- Ah, Channie, I gotta go.”

Chan smiled, feeling slightly envious of his friend. “Go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jisung gave a quick goodbye before he ended the call, leaving Chan alone in silence. He pulled Jisung’s track back up, deciding to start messing around with it now. Maybe he could get it back to him before 5:00-

Chan was so caught up in the track that he didn’t hear the basement door close, or the thumping of tiny feet against the hardwood floor. He didn’t even notice his youngest daughter sneaking into the studio, dark, curly hair clinging to her face, a kangaroo doll clutched to her chest. He didn’t know she was there until he felt something tugging on his shirt sleeve.

Chan whirled around, spooked by the sudden movement. “Jesus Christ- oh. Jellybean, you scared me.” Chan said with a laugh. “What are you doing awake?”

She sniffled, and then Chan realized she had been crying. “I had a nightmare, Papa.”

“Oh, baby.” Chan scooped his daughter up, gathering her in his arms. His fingers found her hair, slowly threading them through it in an attempt to calm her down. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head as she squeezed Chan tighter. “Just want Papa.”

“I’m right here, love.” Chan slowly moved the chair back and forth in a rocking motion, like he would do when they were babies. He kissed the top of her head, sweaty from sleep. As long as she needed him, he would stay, holding her against his chest.

“I have to do some work, Jellybean, but you can stay here with me if you want?” Chan whispered, pulling his chair back into the desk.

Sniffling, your daughter gave a small yes, determined to stay until she was certain there wasn’t anything lurking in her closet like her dreams had made her believe.

Chan played Jisung’s track at a low volume, adding some minor adjustments. He felt his daughter’s heart rate slow down, her sniffling stop, and he was almost certain she was asleep until she spoke again:

“Papa make this?”

“I wish. It sounds good, right?” She nodded her head in response. “Uncle Ji made it.”

He felt her smile softly against his chest. “Pretty.”

“It is pretty.”

His daughter moved her head to look up at her father. “Uncle Ji has a new baby, right?”

“Mhm. Baby girl.”

“Can we see baby soon?“

Chan smiled down at his daughter before pressing a kiss against her forehead. “When mommy and bubba feel better, we can go over and meet the baby.”

She smiled for the first time that early morning as she thought about holding the new baby. She nuzzled back into her father’s chest and said: “I like babies.”

“Babies are great.”

“I wish I was still a baby. Like Bubba. Or Uncle Ji’s baby.”

“Well, you may not be a baby. But, you’re my baby.”

“I like being your baby.”

Chan felt his heart swell as he squeezed his daughter.

Babies were fun. That bonding time Chan had with all his kids was fun. But this? This was so much better.

Lee Minho

Minho had been looking forward to this trip for weeks.

He had “spontaneously” planned it about a month ago after a long phone call with his mom. His parents didn’t live too far away from you guys; in fact, you often saw them once a week for family dinners. But, within the last few months, you all saw less and less of each other; weekly family dinners turning into monthly, if you’re lucky. The loss of family time had made his mom sad, and Minho shared that sentiment. He was close to his family, and not seeing them enough brought his mood down considerably.

After the phone call ended, Minho made his way to your shared bedroom. The bedroom tv softly played reruns of your comfort show, filling the otherwise dark room with soft blue tones. You were sitting with your back against the headboard, comforter bunched at your waist, breast pump humming softly. Minho shut the bedroom door quietly, causing your attention to shift from the tv to him.

You gave your husband a gentle smile, the same smile that made him fall in love with you all over again, and made grabby hands at him. Minho quickly dove into the bed, pushing his lower body under the duvet and resting his head in your empty lap.

Your right hand found his hair, threading your fingers through it slowly. Minho’s body visibly relaxed.

“Everything alright? You were on the phone for a while.”

Minho sighed sadly. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. I just miss my parents.”

“Me too, my love.” You said with a pout. “Did you invite them over for dinner this week?”

“I did, but dad has a work thing he can’t get out of.” Minho’s legs intertwined with yours as he tried to bring you closer to his body.

You two sat in silence for a bit. Minho felt his eyes grow heavy as you continued to play with his hair. Nobody had ever played with his hair before you. The first time you did it was at the beginning of your relationship, when he had had a really shitty day. You had held his head to your shoulder as he cried into it, one hand running up and down his spine while the other found his head. Ever since then, Minho sought your hands for comfort any time he was upset. He could always feel the tension leaving his body once your nails raked against his head. He felt safe and loved in your hands. You protected him.

“Min.” You whispered, removing your hand from his hair. “Can you move for just a second? I need to take the pump off.”

Minho rolled off your lap and onto his pillow, watching you as you carefully removed the full bags. His eyes drifted from your breast to the bassinet right next to the bed.

“When did she fall asleep?”

“About 45 minutes into your phone call.” You placed the sealed bags on your bedside table. “She was not very happy with me, though.”

“She’s never very happy with you.”

You chuckled softly, causing the corner of Minho’s lips to twitch up slightly. “She never is, is she? She definitely prefers you.”

“Ah, don’t say that-“

“I never said I was upset about it.” Pump off, you pulled yourself out of the bed in search of Minho’s shirt you slept in. “I love how much she loves you, because I love you just as much.”

Minho smiled, eyes never leaving the bassinet. He never thought he was capable of love until he met you, and then he didn’t think could love any deeper until she came along. She had smiled at him first. She had laughed at him first. He had always wished he had a sibling, but now he finally understood why some parents choose not to have more children; one was enough.

She was enough.

You finally found your shirt, quickly putting it on and grabbing the bags of milk. “I’m going to put these in the garage freezer, then we can go to bed. Sound good?”

You had slipped out of the room before Minho could respond, but it was okay. His thoughts were too focused on his daughter, what it felt like to be a parent, to be her parent.

God, he missed his parents.

By the time you made it back to the bedroom, Minho was running you through his idea. He had two weeks of unused vacation time, and you hadn’t left the city since the baby was born three months ago. You both needed a vacation, and Minho needed more family time. He would call his mom in the morning and run the dates by her, making sure they were okay with a two week visit.

And of course they were.

Every morning, on his way out the door, Minho would kiss your forehead, smother the baby with kisses, and shout how many days were left until your mini vacation.

“20 days!”

“13 days!”

“One week!”

“One more sleep!”

Before Minho knew it, you were making the short drive to his parents. Less than an hour without traffic, he planned to make it there before breakfast.

You sat in the passenger seat, knees up to your chest and leaning towards Minho. His hand rested firmly on your knee, rubbing his thumb in smoothing circles as he drove with one hand. The car was quiet; baby snoozing in her car seat, your playlist quietly filling the car, the morning summer sun warming the car slightly. In Minho’s opinion, it was the perfect day.

“My mom talked about taking Bubs to the zoo sometime this week.” Minho said, voice barely louder than the music.

“Hmm, that sounds like fun. I don’t think I packed her a hat, though.”

“Mom might have one. If not, we can always go out today and look for one. Dad said there’s this cute baby shop close by- FUCK.” Minho shouted, slamming on the brakes. His arm flew out in front of you, keeping you back against the seat.

If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have rear ended the car in front of him who hit the brakes just as hard as he did. The once quiet car was now filled with heavy panting, and loud cries of your daughter who woken from the sudden stop and Minho’s cursing.

“Bubs.” You panted, unbuckling your seatbelt and throwing yourself into the backseat. Quickly buckling her, scooping her into your chest and shushing her as you rocked her back and forth.

Minho was frozen. His arm that braced you still slung over the center console, his other hand gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. His body, once warm from the summer sun, was now ice cold with fear.

Nothing had happened; it looked like it was just an early morning traffic jam. Someone in front of him hadn’t been paying attention and slammed on their brakes too late, causing a domino effect. Causing him to slam on his brakes so he didn’t hit a car.

It could have been so much worse.

Minho shifted the car into park and quickly unbuckled his seatbelt. Fuck, it felt so constricting. Turning around, he reached behind him to grab your hand.

“Is she okay?” He asked, wide eyes staring at his daughter’s head.

You nodded your head. “I think she just got scared.” He heard your voice crack. His eyes shot up to your face, watching hot tears stream quickly down your face. “Fuck, Minho, that could’ve been so bad.”

“Oh, no.” Fuck traffic laws. Minho crawled over the console into the backseat with you, his mind anywhere but the cars surrounding him. “Hey, no.” His thumbs wiped your face clean. “It’s just a traffic jam. We’re okay.” He pulled both of you into his arms, your face buried into his shoulder as you sobbed.

Minho brought a shaky hand up to your head and slowly began combing your hair with his fingers. He planted a kiss on your forehead, keeping up with the flow of his hands. Your fingers always made him feel safe, and now he needed to do the same for you.

“I'm here. I’m right here, love.”

///

You refused to leave the backseat for the rest of the trip. You leaned over your daughter’s car seat, hands going from her little feet, to touching her little head, to grabbing her chubby hands. This was where you needed to be - right by her side. Even if it was just a little scare, the fear that threatened to drown you wouldn’t leave. You knew eventually it would, but now? For now, you weren’t leaving.

Minho didn’t want to drive. He didn’t want to be separated from either of you. He needed to be next to you, to feel your heartbeat against his chest, to feel your hands in his hair. He needed to feel his daughter’s hand gripping his finger, needed to hear her giggle as he kissed her belly over and over.

The traffic jam didn’t cut much time off the trip - Minho was back on his route in a matter of minutes. He drove quickly, wanting to be out of the car and in your arms.

The moment he parked the car, he was out, running to the back of the car to open your door. Once he flung it open, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close.

In his head, Minho knew he was overreacting. It was a small traffic jam that was over quickly. If he had been by himself, he would’ve been pissed, but would’ve gotten over it before traffic even started moving again. But, he wasn’t by himself. You were in the car. She was in the car. And there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to either of you.

From her car seat, your daughter started to fuss. You turned around to grab her when Minho grabbed your arm.

“Let me.” He said, eyes brimming with tears. “Please.”

You nodded, sliding out of the car so he could climb in and grab her.

Her eyes were still shut, small baby fists up by her face as she tried to stretch the sleepy out. Minho smiled to himself, tears finally falling, as he pulled her out of her car seat.

“Oh, hi my girl.” He whispered. Your daughter, hearing her father’s voice, slowly cracked her eyes open. “I missed you.”

The baby yawned in response, nuzzling herself deeper into her father’s chest. Minho chuckled, leaning down and kissing all over her small face. The baby wiggled, and he swore she was trying to push him away with her tiny little hands. But, Minho didn’t stop. He kissed all over her face, blowing raspberries on her cheeks until she released a shriek like baby laugh.

Minho felt your chin rest on his shoulder, looking down at her. He blew one last raspberry on her belly this time, just to get her to laugh again.

You laughed with your baby. “Oh Bubs, is daddy so silly?”

She giggled in response, nuzzling back into his chest.

Minho was so caught up in his daughter that he didn’t even hear his mother approach the car.

“I thought I heard a car door!”

You turned around, running up to your mother-in-law. “Oh, hi, mom.”

Minho looked up to see you two hug, exchanging “I missed you”s and comments on new haircuts. The baby in his arms squirmed, ready for more attention from her father.

“Do I hear a baby?”

Minho smiled at his mom, then looked back down at his daughter, who was staring at him like he hung the stars.

She didn’t even know he felt the same about her.

As his mom’s voice grew closer, Minho felt safe. Minho felt loved. Minho felt comforted.

It was how he always felt with you and Bubs around, and his mom just added more warmth to those feelings. You two were his safety.

You two were his home.

Seo Changbin

Sundays.

A day for sleeping in.

A day for getting those last minute chores done before the new work week begins.

A day for easy dinners and family tv show nights.

Most families would say Sundays are their favorite day of the week. Sundays are easy, Sundays are quiet, Sundays are peaceful.

For Changbin, he would say it depends on the season. Because spring Sundays were anything but easy, quiet, and peaceful.

If he slept past 6:30 on a spring Sunday, he could go ahead and count the day as a loss, because there was no way he was coming back from that. All three kids were typically awake by 7:15, the twins grouchy and hungry as Bin tries to get them dressed for the day. You typically took baby duty; he preferred you to your husband and was struggling with dependency issues. Besides, Changbin would much rather tackle the two snappy seven year olds than let you navigate the absolute chaos that was the oldest boys.

The night before, Changbin set multiple alarms to make sure he woke up before you. Sundays were his busiest days, and he wanted to sneak a workout in before the chaos erupted in his household.

The problem with alarms is, no matter how many he sets, he will always sleep through them.

However, he was proud of himself today. He woke up on the third alarm instead of the sixth like usual. For a brief second, he thought this Sunday would be easier than all the other Sundays of this month.

Rolling over in the bed, he reached out for you only to be greeted by cold bed sheets. Changbin quickly sat up, thoroughly confused. He was sure he would be the first to wake up. After all, why would you be awake before him, at 5:45 on a Sunday? He cursed at himself under his breath as he hoisted himself out of bed and threw on the first pair of sweatpants he could find. This shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have been awake before him, and he wanted to know why you were.

The moment Changbin stepped outside of your shared bedroom, he felt his foot press against something strong and sharp. He leaned against the door, hissing in pain as he picked up his foot to investigate what the hell he had just blindly stepped on.

“Goddamn cleats.” He cussed, kicking the shoe out of his way. How many times did he have to remind the boys to leave their shoes at the front door?

“Seo Changbin, shut UP.” He heard you hiss from the kitchen.

The kitchen?

At 5:45?

Limping slightly, he made his way to the kitchen. On the short walk there, Changbin found himself running into more things: his left big toe stubbed against a bat, he felt a pacifier squish under his foot, one of the twins’ many reusable water bottles almost made him slip and fall on the hardwood.

Changbin used to think he was envious of the people who got to clean on Sundays. Now he realized, as he stepped on the cleat matching the one in front of your bedroom door, he really fucking hated those people.

He was ready to curse everyone who had an easy Sunday until he saw you, and finally realized why you were the first one up.

Your hair was tied messily back, strands falling in front of your face as you supported the youngest of your three sons with one hand and used the other to peel oranges. The youngest had his eyes closed, nestled into your chest as he softly ate. Your shirt (that you had stolen from Changbin within your first year together and refused to return) was wet with a mixture of orange juice and baby spit up. You were frazzled, overworked, and exhausted.

And now, Changbin was upset he overslept for a different reason.

“Baby, why are you awake?” Changbin asked, rushing over to your side to grab the orange you were about to drop.

Once he grabbed it, you leaned against the fridge to support your weight. The baby weighed more than the twins and you were exhausted from supporting him with one arm for so long. “Bean was fussing, so I got up to go check on him and feed him. As I was doing that, I checked my phone and saw a reminder text that it’s our turn to bring snacks to the t-ball game this afternoon. I totally fucking forgot, Changbin. I tried to put him back to sleep, but with his dependency issues and cluster feeding, he wouldn’t let me put him down, so I brought him out here with me.” Your head hit the fridge door with a thud. “I only got three oranges peeled before I heard you yelling.”

Changbin felt his heart sink. He had spent so much time this morning grumbling about being behind schedule when you had been doing all this work by yourself. To say he felt like an asshole would be an understatement. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You waved your hand as if to dismiss him. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I knew we’d have a busy day today. I just wanted you to sleep.”

“First,” Changbin placed the orange on the kitchen island and closed the space in between you two, “always wake me up. You are far more important than any amount of sleep. Second, while I feel like such a fucking dick for letting you do this alone, I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for you. You are an amazing wife and an even better mother, and I couldn’t do this without you.” Changbin’s eyes drifted from your face to the baby attached to your chest. He had let go of your nipple, breathing heavily as he slept against your chest. “Third, you suck at peeling oranges. Let me take over. Go put Bean to bed and then yourself.”

“But, Changbin-“

“Nah, I don’t want to hear it. No kid is going to want to eat these oranges with a shitty peel job.” He playfully scoffed. “Who taught you how to do this? No wonder the twins never eat them when you pack them for lunch.”

Using your free hand, you playfully punched his shoulder. Changbin cried out in fake pain and dramatically grasped his shoulder, whining about how you injured his orange peeling arm.

“You’re obnoxious.” You whispered with a grin on your face.

“It’s been 10 years, you’re just noticing that?”

Laughing softly, you grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him in for a kiss. “I love and adore you.”

Changbin pecked your lips once, twice, and then a third time. “I love and adore you, too.”

He watched you walk out of the kitchen, heart swelling in adoration. You were like a superhero in his eyes - someone navigating the world with three loud, clingy boys and their equally clingy father with an abundance of grace. Changbin didn’t know how you did it, but he wanted to, because he never wanted you to have to go through this alone. The baby’s bedroom door shut, allowing Changbin to direct his attention to the half peeled orange in his hand.

He picked up one and glanced at the clock on the oven. 6:00 am. He had maybe an hour to get most of these oranges peeled before he had to start breakfast. There was no way he was going to let the twins go to their t-ball tournament without eating breakfast. Just like he wouldn’t let them go without sunscreen-

Sunscreen.

Shit.

That’s what he forgot to pick up at the store last night.

He aggressively picked at the orange, trying to peel them faster so he could slip away to the store before anyone else in his household woke up.

“Goddamn sunscreen.” He mumbled to himself.

Sundays in the Seo household were busy, loud, and chaotic.

But goddamn, did Changbin love Sundays.

Hwang Hyunjin

“Fuck.” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath as he takes a sharp left turn, barely missing the car speeding towards him. “Sorry!” He calls as the driver honked at him, as if they could hear his half ass apology.

The car pulled into a parking spot with a squeak, and Hyunjin barely turned the car off before throwing himself out of it. “Fuck.” He curses, yet again, locking the car before running inside. He was late. Like, late late. Hyunjin was never exactly “on time”, but he also was never this late. In his defense, he had lost track of time. It completely slipped his mind that it was Thursday.

There was a line at the clock out desk. He bit his lip and aggressively untied his ponytail, trying to distract himself before he started cursing in front of all the other parents at his daughter’s daycare. When it was his turn, his code didn’t work. Hands shaking with frustration, he pulled his phone out and quickly called you.

“Hyunjin-“

“What’s your code?” He slightly snapped.

“What code?”

“The code for Pumpkin’s school. What is it?”

“Our anniversary.”

“Which one?”

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin-“

“We have like, five. Which one?” He hated when he lost his temper with you, and he knew he would be begging for forgiveness later tonight, but he was already going to have to apologize for how late he was.

“Wedding. 1027.” Your voice was laced with anger.

He quickly punched in the code and was rewarded with the click of the front door unlocking. “Thank you, honey.”

“Hurry, please.” You said and hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

Fuck.

That was three.

When pregnant with Pumpkin, you were insistent on applying for daycares early. They made you nervous, and you wanted some place that you felt safe leaving your child. Hyunjin had remembered Chan talking about this preschool they looked at for his son - very prestigious, excellent reviews, very low acceptance rate. The website promised small class sizes, lots of one on one engagement, parent/teacher interactions daily. It was the perfect school. Five months pregnant, you two toured the school and immediately sent in your application. Hyunjin got the call offering Pumpkin a spot while he was driving you to the hospital. But, she had gotten in. Four years later, you and Hyunjin were still so in love with the school.

So, that’s why he felt bad for sprinting through it today.

He almost slid past Pumpkin’s classroom, leaning in to catch her attention.

“Yah, Hwang.” He said. Your daughter snapped her head around, braids he had put in this morning loose from a busy day of playing. “Let’s roll.”

Your daughter put the marker she was coloring with down before sprinting to her father. Hyunjin squated to catch her, picking her up and spinning her as he kissed all over the top of her head.

“Hey, Pumpkin. How was your day?”

Before your daughter could answer, her teacher popped up in the doorway. “We have some papers for you to take home and sign,” the teacher said, handing Hyunjin what he considered to be a small packet “if you could turn these into the office by Monday, that would be great.”

He nodded, quickly saying thank you. “Say bye, Pumpkin, we’ve got to go-“

“Oh, quickly, before you run off.”

It took everything Hyunjin had inside him not to sigh.

“We had a bit of trouble keeping our hands to ourselves today. We pulled our friend’s hair quite a few times and-“

Your daughter looked up at Hyunjin, face scrunched in disgust. “THEY started it. They touched me when I said NO.”

Fuck.

Four.

“That wasn’t kind of them not to listen, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean you can-“

“But it’s my body, and I said no. Mommy said I can always be mean if they don’t listen to my no-“

“I mean, you’re right-“

“So I can pull hair.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to deep dive into this topic, the clock was ticking and they had to go. Now.

Hyunjin grabbed his daughter’s backpack, forcing her to apologize to her teacher before running back down the hallway and out the front door. During the first few years of parenthood, Hyunjin struggled with car seats. He couldn’t figure out the buckles, had a hard time taking them out of the car, and, much to your horror, often forgot to take coats off before buckling in. That mistake he fixed quickly, but the others? It took him years to get it right and get it done in less than two minutes.

Today, however, he broke his record, buckling Pumpkin up and adjusting the chest clip in 30 seconds even. He would brag about that later. It was time to go.

///

The class had already started by the time Hyunjin and Pumpkin came barreling through the door. His daughter, spotting her brother, dropped the doll and made a beeline to him.

Hyunjin sighed, as he scanned the room for you. You were sitting against the back wall with the rest of the parents, still dressed in work clothes, hair bumpy from the bun it had sat in all day. Hyunjin stepped over the other parents, sliding down the open spot next to you. He leaned in to give you a kiss on the forehead, but you moved your head before his lips could connect.

“Hey.” He whispered.

You shook your head. “You’re so late, Hyunjin.”

He sighed, bringing his pointer and middle finger up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I know, I’m sorry. Meetings ran long, and then I got caught up in the studio and completely lost track of time-“

“And then you snapped at me.”

“I did. I’m sorry. I was frustrated with myself for running late and lost my temper. I’m so sorry.” Hyunjin felt like shit. He should know by now; dance practice was every Thursday after school for both kids. You always picked up Bear, he always picked up Pumpkin. It was your family routine since they started dance class. Hyunjin had no excuse.

He stared at his kids who were smiling at each other, whispering about their days. They were best friends, and if Hyunjin thought about their relationship for longer than a few seconds, he would cry. He didn’t have siblings, so watching them love each other filled his heart with a joy he has never known.

“Bear had his timed math quiz today. Answered them all correctly.” You said, head leaning slightly towards your husband.

Hyunjin smiled. You did this often - you hated focusing on conflict for too long, and after apologies were given, you would switch the topic. You never held a grudge, especially against Hyunjin, and he was always grateful for your conflict management.

“Couldn’t have been me.” Hyunjin rested his head on yours, wanting to be closer to you. Typically, you both kept PDA to a minimum, especially at your children’s activities. Hyunjin, however, didn’t give a shit today. He needed to be closer to you. “I was awful at math.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into him more. “Same. I don’t know where he got that from.”

“Pumpkin pulled some kid’s hair today because they wouldn’t stop poking her. She said she told them no, and they wouldn’t stop, so she took matters into her own hands.”

“Good for her.”

“Right? We know where she got that from.” Hyunjin glanced down at you with a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I always keep my hands to myself.”

Hyunjin couldn’t stop the loud laugh he released. The night you two had met, and the moment Hyunjin knew he needed to know you, he had watched you throw a drink in a man’s face. The man had been following your friend around all night, not taking no for an answer, and you had just gotten sick of it. When he approached your table for the fifth time that night, you had taken a sip of your vodka soda, then threw it right in his face. The man began to raise his voice at you and threatened you, while you just laughed at him crying over a little vodka in his eyes. Changbin had walked over to try to get the guy to leave you alone, and you had snapped at him, saying you could defend yourself. Eventually, the creep left. Changbin attempted to apologize to you by buying you a new drink, but you waved him off and gave him a quick apology of your own. It was then that Hyunjin went to retrieve his friend, sensing that you and your friends didn’t need another man hanging around your table. You had made eye contact with Hyunjin right as he grabbed Changbin’s arm.

“You don’t need to buy me a drink.” You had said to Changbin before looking at Hyunjin and smirking. “But if you wanted to, I wouldn’t stop you.”

So he bought you a drink.

And now you were watching your children stretch for their weekly dance class.

Hyunjin couldn’t be happier.

///

Bed time was the most draining part of Hyunjin’s day. It also happened to be bath night, which made the process longer and more complicated than Hyunjin would have liked it to be.

Pumpkin changed pajamas five times before she felt satisfied with the pair she had on. Hyunjin didn’t see what the difference was between this pair of polka dot pajamas and the other, but he was picking his battles. Finally climbing into bed, Hyunjin sat next to her, opening the first book she requested.

Midway through the book, Pumpkin looked up at her father. “Can you hold me, daddy?” Her voice was so soft, so gentle. How could he say no?

Collecting his daughter in his arms, he continued with the book. By the end of it, she was snoring - head against his right bicep, legs resting on his left arm, little hands gripping on his shirt as if she was afraid of him letting go. Hyunjin closed the book and let it fall to the floor, grabbing his daughter and holding her closer to his chest.

She wasn’t the snuggly kid. When Pumpkin no longer needed support, she rarely sought out hugs or cuddles. She just didn’t want it, and while he respected it, it had completely shattered his heart. He felt like she didn’t need him, and while he adored her independence, he just wanted to hold his daughter like he used to.

Hyunjin shifted lower in the small bed, trying to get more comfortable. He would sit like this just for a few more minutes. Then, he would lay her down, tuck her in, and crawl into bed with you.

Just a few more minutes of this.

Just a few.

///

Hyunjin’s eyes shot open when he felt someone playing with his hair.

“Hey. Want to come to bed?” You whispered, a soft smile on your face.

Wasn’t he in bed?

Why did the ceiling have stars on it?

Hyunjin turned his head to his left, where Pumpkin laid next to him. She had stretched out, but still had a tight grip on his shirt. The duvet covers were twisted and pushed to the middle of the bed, barely covering her little body. One of his legs hung off the side of the bed, foot brushing against the book he dropped earlier in the evening.

He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“11:00.” You whispered. Fuck, he had been asleep a while then. “I didn’t want to bother you, but when I heard something fall, I figured it was time to wake you up.”

Something fell?

Hyunjin lifted his head to see his daughter’s alarm clock on the floor, numbers creating a pink hue on the carpet. He was too lanky for this small bed.

“I should probably…” his voice trailed off once he looked at his daughter again. Sleeping soundly. Eyes twitching as she dreamed. What was she dreaming about? He was dying to know what went on in her little head.

He looked back up at you, eyes hot with tears. “Can I stay here? Just for a bit longer.” His voice a shaky whisper.

You nodded before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

Hyunjin slowly reached down and grabbed the duvet cover, pulling it over both his and Pumpkin’s body. Pumpkin nuzzled into the warmth, head finding her father’s chest against. Carefully, he moved her slightly so he could fit his other leg on the bed.

She’s spunky. She stays ready to fight anyone who even looks at her wrong. She loves her brother more than Hyunjin ever thought someone could love a sibling. She’s funny, and loud, an absolute force. She looks just like him; big brown eyes, long black hair, always mimicking his disgusted face. She’s absolutely everything to him.

He placed a gentle kiss on her head, before allowing his eyes to shut. He was never leaving her side.

Han Jisung

Jisung is convinced he was made to be a father.

Nothing brings him more joy than caring for others or being needed. He loves when his younger friends, and sometimes older ones, rely on him for support or ask him for advice. He feels important, and likes that they see him as someone they can trust, who is always there for him.

So when you told him you were pregnant, he felt like running laps. It was a big show; first his eyes became saucers as he processed your news. Next came the jaw drop, quickly covered by his hands as he let out a soft screech. “Really?” He asked, and when you nodded, there was too much excitement in his body to stay still. Jisung jumped up from the bed, steps bouncy as he ran over to you, hugging you so tightly you had to warn him to be gentle.

“We’re having a baby.” He whispered in your ear.

The next time he said that sentence, it was more of a scream. So much so that Changbin, on the other side of the phone, cursed at him for being so loud and asked him to repeat himself. Jisung spent the next hour or so calling all of his friends, giddy about the fact that it was his turn to have a baby, and the best part about it? He gets to have a baby with you, the most important person in the world. The person who hung the stars, who holds the entire world in the palm of their hands. You. He gets to do this with you, and that’s all he could ask for.

By month three, he has the hospital bag packed (“We need to be prepared!” He said as he stuffed a quokka doll in the overpacked duffel bag). By month five, he had already read every new parent book he could find at the local bookstore. By month eight, you could place him in the middle of a delivery room and he would know exactly what to do. The amount of knowledge he retained in such a short amount of time was so impressive, and it really worked out in the end.

Your doctor commented that she had never had such a smooth delivery with a patient, and you really had Jisung to thank for it. Not only was he ready, but he knew how to keep you calm, how to support you and make sure you felt as prepared as he did. He helped you up from the bed, to the yoga ball, even to the inflatable pool, which is where you stayed until the baby was born not even an hour later. Sitting behind you in his swim trunks, Jisung held your hand, whispering encouraging words and repeated praises. You were magical, you were strong, and he was completely in awe of you.

His awe transferred over to your daughter. Your perfect, beautiful daughter with the squishiest cheeks anyone has ever seen. She had a full head of dark hair, and even though she was right out of the womb, she looked so much like Jisung it was almost scary. Copy and paste; she was his twin.

The obsession with her began when you told him you were pregnant, and only grew. Jisung practically lived with a baby carrier strapped to his chest, your daughter nuzzled against his chest as he went about his day. Be it the house or the studio, if Jisung was moving about, you could bet the baby was with him.

She was just as attached to him as he was her; the sound of his voice always made her big, brown eyes light up. She slept better when he put her down, did better in public spaces if he held her. They were inseparable, and it made your heart swell. You had front row seats to their love, often getting to be in the middle of their affection. The little family that everyone dreams of was your reality.

It was one of the rare days Jisung couldn’t take her to work with him; they were shooting all day, and frankly his stylist was over cleaning up baby spit up off his clothes. It broke your heart to see the way his eyes watered as lingered at the bedroom door to find an excuse to stay.

“Are you sure you feel well?” He asks you, trying to blink back his tears. “I can stay and make sure you get enough rest.”

You felt fine, there was no reason to ask that, but you could tell he was trying to find something to get him out of work. To let him stay home with his two favorite people in the world. “Ji.” You whisper, trying not to wake the baby asleep on your chest. “We’re going to be alright. Go to work, we’ll be here when you get back.”

He looks down at his feet, shoving shaky hands into his sweatpants. “I just miss you guys already.” And though you can’t see his face clearly, you know the tears have broken, a little sniffle accompanied by his confession.

A promise to FaceTime him later (more than once) is what finally gets him out the door after you kiss his tears away. Leaving her, leaving you, never gets easier. The older your daughter got, the harder it was to be away from her. Especially in such a heavy developmental stage; he was so scared he would miss big moments.

He had missed the first him she rolled over, and the day she started crawling. When he laid next to her on the ground during tummy time, it shocked him when she proceeded to crawl on top of him instead of staying still. Jisung turned his head to you as you stood by the couch.

“I was about to show you the video, but I guess she beat me to it.” You said with a giggle, dropping to the floor next to him to lay with them. She crawled fully onto Jisung’s chest, chubby baby hands grabbing his cheeks and squishing them between her little fingers. And while he was so proud of her, so excited to feel her death grip on his cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel sad that he missed seeing it first.

All day on set, he looked forward to your calls, praying that he didn’t miss anything exciting. So far the day seemed normal, if not dull. You called as you made breakfast, and he watched her refuse a spoonful of mashed pears.

“She doesn’t like them.” He said, eyes shut as they worked on his makeup. “I told you that, but you never listen-“

“She eats them for you!” You said, and he can hear his daughter fussing as you attempt to try again.

“Yeah, well she likes me best.”

When you huffed, he laughed, eyes opening just enough to see a playful pout on your face as you abandoned the pears and tried applesauce instead. You opened your mouth, mimicking the action you wanted the baby to make as you closed in with the spoon. When her lips wrapped around the yellow plastic, you smiled brightly, turning to the camera.

“She never eats applesauce for you.”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Fine, she likes you better.”

“Thanks, I know.”

Both you and Jisung went about your days, him sneakily looking at his phone on set to see if there were any updates. He smiled at the selfies you sent, at the video of her gripping onto your hair and practically ripping it out, and at a clip of her watching one of his music videos, focused on him any time he was on screen. She giggled any time she heard his voice, inching closer to the screen as if she could reach him.

God, he wanted to be home.

Around dinner time, they finally started to wrap up, each member just as antsy to get home to their own families. Jisung was the first one changed and out the door, unable to slow down until he pulled into your neighborhood. The car was barely turned off before he barreled out of it, kicking his shoes off at the garage door and haphazardly throwing his backpack down next to them. Nothing was more important than seeing you two.

He found you in the master bathroom, leaning over the tub that was filled with an abundance of toys, but little water. You were singing to the baby, who was giggling loudly as you gently scrubbed shampoo into her thick hair.

Good. He hadn’t missed much of bath time.

“Hey.” Jisung said, walking over to the tub and kneeling down beside you. You turned to face your fiancé, smiling happily at his arrival. His lips gently brushed against yours, melting away every ounce of worry and stress the day had brought him.

“Hi.” You mumbled before giving him another kiss. “Sorry, I would’ve waited for you but somebody-“ you dramatically turned your head, playfully narrowing your eyes at your daughter, who giggled at the quick almost movement. “-decided she wanted to spit dinner up allllllll over herself.”

Jisung gasped loudly, pulling more laughs out of the child, who seemed too proud of herself. “Not my Squish.”

“Oh, your Squish.” Your own laughs were added in this time, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “Can you hang out with her for a minute? I forgot to grab a towel from her bathroom.”

Silly question - of course he was going to say yes.

Rolling up his sleeves, Jisung took over the bath time routine, clicking his tongue as he turned on the tap for fresh water. “Were you a pain today for mama?”

The smile on her face, which was often compared to his own mischievous smile, was telling enough. Covering his daughter’s eyes, Jisung rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, double checking that it was gone before grabbing a rag. Squeezing the soap onto it, he caught her staring at him. Almost a year old, and everyday, he falls in love with her all over again.

God, what did Jisung do to get so lucky?

“Alright, Squish.” Jisung said once the soap was lathered enough. “Ready for dada to-“

“Dada.”

“Huh?”

The rag dropped into the tub, the impact creating a small splash. Blinking, he stared at his daughter, who was ecstatic about the bubbles created by the rag at her feet. He knows he heard her wrong. There was no way she just-

“Say that again?” Jisung asked, completely forgetting that she’s a baby and isn’t capable of speaking on command.

But, she shocked him again. “Dada.” Blinking at him, she reached out for him while babbling his name over and over.

Jisung scrambled to find his phone before he remembered it was in his bag by the garage. Fuck, you need to hear this. He doesn’t want you to miss this-

“Did you wash her body yet?”

“Dada.”

You paused in your tracks, eyes darting from your daughter to Jisung. “Did she just-“

“She did.” He said, wide eyes still staring at the baby, who, much like her father, could not stop talking.

“Dada, dada, dada-“

The towel is abandoned on the ground as you run over to the tub, dropping down to your original position. Side by side, you and Jisung kneeled over the tub, staring at the baby.

“That’s her first word, Ji.” You whisper, reaching out to unfasten her from the bath seat. She didn’t stop talking, even as you pulled her out. Squirming, she reached out for Jisung, calling his name over and over until he took her from your arms.

He took her from you, shirt soaked as the baby settled in his arms. Awestruck, he rubbed her back, listening to her words because more of a babble, but it was impossible for him not to hear it. He was her first word.

You smiled at him, a hand falling to his cheek and redirecting his attention. When he looked at you, he saw the joyful tears in your eyes, saw the pure adoration you had for the two of them. “I’m so glad you’re home, Ji.”

Lee Felix

People always seemed surprised to find out Felix was a stay at home dad. Before having kids, he was very devoted to his job, often working later hours than necessary and bringing work home with him. He enjoyed his job, but he knew you did as well. So as soon as you surprised him with three sticks and a little stuffed chick, he told his boss that his last day was your due date.

Sure, he loved his job. But he loved you more.

That’s why he was now, very happily, standing in the kitchen making pancakes at 9 am. The five month old slept soundly in the fabric carrier against his chest. Little baby snores filled his ears along with the sound of your three year old’s crayons scraping across her coloring book.

“Bug, what do you want in your pancakes?” Felix softly called.

Your daughter hummed as she thought, then loudly exclaimed: “Chocolate chips!”

Felix laughed and shook his head, grabbing a handful of the semisweet chips and sprinkling them over the pancake.

“Extra, please!”

“Ah, you know you can’t have that much chocolate in the morning.”

She tsked, and for a brief second, Felix wasn’t sure if he was talking to you or your daughter. “But it’s a no school day. Please, daddy?”

Felix was nothing if not whipped.

Laughing softly, he grabbed a small handful and turned to look at your daughter.

“Fine, but don’t tell your mom, okay?”

Your daughter grinned as she nodded in agreement.

Felix swears up and down that she’s a carbon copy of you. From her jaw structure to her hair, all the way to her nose - when he looks at her, he sees you. From the moment he held her, he saw you. If possible, that made him love her even more.

But that smile? That was his. She had his smile, and that was enough for him.

Breakfast went smoothly. Felix decided to save the chocolate chips for your daughter and put blueberries in his. She squealed when she noticed the jar of homemade whipped cream he had placed in the middle of the table (“I helped daddy make this!”) and ended up waking her brother. Somehow, Felix juggled feeding the baby and feeding himself while keeping chocolate (mostly) off your daughter.

Typically, after breakfast, everyone would change out of their jammies into day time clothes. It helped Felix feel more productive, and if they ever needed to leave, he wouldn’t have to wrestle a three year old out of the too-small dinosaur onesie she refuses to take off. Felix decided to switch things up this morning, allowing your daughter to camp out on the living room floor with as many stuffed animals as she wanted and let her watch a movie before they went on their afternoon walk.

Felix enjoyed the simplicity of these kinds of mornings.

Not even halfway through Moana, your daughter was softly snoring at his feet. Felix sat with his back against the couch, on the floor with his children. To his right was the baby, staring up at the dim living room lights from the nursing pillow he was rested on.

“Whatcha looking at, little bug?” He asked in a whisper. The baby’s eyes moved quickly from the lights to his father, staring brightly up at him.

If your daughter had his smile, the smallest child had his eyes. Felix would never grow tired of looking into them.

“Mommy should be home soon.” Felix grabbed the child’s covered foot, shaking it lightly. “She should be here before we go on our walk. Should she come with us?” His fingers danced up the baby belly, softly tickling the sides. “Hm? Do you want mommy to go on a walk with us?”

Your son’s giggles filled the living room, smiling widely as his father tickled him.

That smile? That was yours. And that was Felix’s favorite feature.

Felix was so caught up on making his son laugh that he didn’t hear the front door open. He didn’t hear the way you kicked off your shoes, exhausted from your flight in. He didn’t see you slowly tiptoe into the living room, not wanting to interrupt the giggle party.

He was laughing with his son, smothering the soft baby face with small kisses. Your son squealed, loving every bit of the attention he was getting from his father.

You would hate to interrupt, but you didn’t want to be left out of the party, either.

“What are you two giggly boys doing?” You asked, leaning over the couch to peek at them.

Your son, seeing your head pop up above him, giggled harder. His stubby hands reached up, wanting to be in your embrace. Quickly, you climbed over the couch and sat next to Felix, scooping the baby up and smothering his face with kisses.

“Oh, I missed you so much baby bug.” You said with a content sigh, squeezing your baby into your chest, determined to never let him go.

Felix pressed a soft kiss against the side of your forehead. “Hey, love.”

You smiled, turning to fully face him. He was so close you could count his freckles. “Hi.”

Felix’s left hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning into his touch, you sighed. Your work took you to many places, but no place felt as warm as here did. No place felt as comfortable. As soon as your plane landed at a new destination, you were always ready to leave.

Because any place without Felix, without your babies, wasn’t a place worth being.

Felix kisses you deeply, hand holding your chin steady. He tasted like whipped cream and coffee, smelled like baby soap and his cologne. He brought both hands to your face to kiss you deeper. He wanted you to feel how much he loved you. How much he missed you.

Whenever someone asked Felix why he chose to stay home with his children, the answer was always an easy one.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips.

He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

Because nothing, no job, no person, no place, would ever mean more to him-

“I love you, more.”

Your hand softly touched his cheeks, ready to go in for another kiss, when you heard movement at your feet.

-than the three of you do.

“Mommy?” Your daughter asked, voice groggy with sleep. She crawled up both yours and Felix’s legs, burying her face in your lap.

You smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears as she fell back asleep.

“You know,” you whispered, careful not to disrupt the peace, “she looks like you.”

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin firmly believes you can never be too prepared.

Car won’t start? Don’t worry, Seungmin has jumper cables and his mechanic on speed dial if he can’t get it started for you. Forgot your headphones for a five hour flight? Not sweat; he brought three extra pairs just in case. Stupid hangnail bothering you? Give him a second to find the spare set of clippers he always has. And don’t worry, they’re sanitized after every use.

If anything, you could say that Seungmin is over prepared.

But isn’t it better that way? No more stressing, trying to figure out how to handle a situation that’s just been thrown at you. If Seungmin is there, you have nothing to worry about, because he’s ready. His backup plans have backup plans. You can rest easy knowing he is prepared for the absolute worst at any moment.

Well, every moment, except one.

He knew about your pregnancy before you did. His phone had notified him that your new cycle was due, so he waited for your typical period requests.

“Can we just order in tonight?”

“I ate the last of the popcorn, could you go out and grab more?”

“Minnie, could you pretty please run a hot bath for me?”

As always, he was prepared.

But when days passed with no requests, Seungmin began to think it wasn’t coming.

He came home with two boxes, four tests in total. You were confused - your period was only five days late. It wasn’t that big of a deal. But, knowing how your husband always wants to be prepared, you agreed to take the tests.

You two sat crisscross on the bathroom floor across from each other, tests face down. When the alarm went off, you grabbed two each, counted down from three, and flipped them at the same time.

Four VERY positive tests.

And thus, the baby prep began.

Seungmin read every book he could get his hands on, from what to expect during birth to early childhood development textbooks. He researched different ways to give birth, took notes, and thoroughly discussed every option with you. He watched so many birthing videos, he could probably deliver a baby himself. Seungmin asked all the right questions at every appointment without overstepping, listened to you about what you felt was best, and made sure he was ready for a baby to come at any moment.

The hospital bag was packed at twelve weeks. The nursery? Up at twenty weeks and finished within a day, with the help of Seungmin’s friends.

“Why do I have to build the crib? It’s not my baby.” Jisung whined from the nursery floor.

“Shut up and hand me the screwdriver.” Changbin replied.

Kim Seungmin, prepared for anything.

You were late and growing more frustrated by the day. The back pains were almost unbearable, you bend over to tie your shoe, and why, for the love of god, were you dripping in sweat in the middle of January?

Your doctor set a date for induction, even though you fought her on it.

“We’ll schedule it just in case.” She said, helping you off the exam table. “If he comes sooner, great, but we need to be prepared in case he needs some help.”

“I just would rather him come when he’s ready.”

Your doctor smiled sympathetically at you. “I understand. This is just a backup plan. I can give you some tips on how to naturally induce labor so we can try to avoid medically inducing it.”

And of course, Seungmin made sure you tried every single suggestion.

He even worked them into your nightly routine.

Before dinner, you two would take a 20 minute walk. Seungmin made dinner extra spicy every night, making sure you ate an entire jalapeño pepper with every meal.

And of course, the most effective method: sex.

All the time. Everywhere. Any chance you both got, Seungmin was on you. In the shower, on the couch, in the studio; Seungmin was happy to help you get this baby out.

Even with all his hard work, you were no closer to labor than you were at your last appointment.

Two days until your induction date, and Seungmin’s fingers were lightly tracing circles on the inside of your thigh.

“We don’t have to.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss on your belly.

“I want to.” You said, lightly grabbing his hand. “I want to try.”

Seungmin smiled gently at you, picking up your hand and pressing a firm kiss against it. “I love you.” He whispers, dropping your hand and returning to your thighs. Picking your leg up, he rested your foot on his shoulder and began to pepper kisses on the inside of your thigh. “You’re incredible.” His other hand slowly worked up your other thigh, drawing closer and closer to where you wanted him. “There’s no one else I rather do this with.” Seungmin places one last kiss on your thigh before lowering it down and bringing his head closer towards the middle of your thighs.

“So pretty.” He whispered, then slowly brought two fingers up to your clit.

Then, you screamed.

Seungmin sat up quickly to look at you. He was used to you screaming when he was in between your legs, but this scream was different. It sounded like you were in pain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, searching your face to try to figure out what happened.

Then, he saw it.

The way you were holding your belly, head thrown back, teeth grinding against each other.

“Fuck.” Seungmin exclaimed, scrabbling out of bed to find his sweatpants. “Fuck, where are my clothes?”

You had read the books with Seungmin, you had watched the videos. You thought you knew what was coming. But, you were never quite as prepared as your husband.

“Fuck, Seungmin, it hurts.” You cried, looking for something to grasp onto.

He had successfully found his pants, grabbing yours before he rushed back to your side.

Squatting by your head, Seungmin grabbed one of your hands and used his other hand to brush the hair that dropped in front of your face back. “Hey, hey, I’m right here. Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I can’t, Seungmin. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll count, okay?”

You squeezed his hand tightly, focusing on the sound of his voice and the way his breath felt against your neck. The contraction slowly faded out once he hit the twentys.

Seungmin kissed the side of your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered. “Let me help you get dressed. It’s time to have a baby.”

///

Seungmin expected your labor to last longer. Within an hour of checking in and moving you into a room, your contractions grew in length and the time between shorten. You were pushing before you could even ask for an epidural.

Seungmin never left your side (not that he would even consider it). He held your hand with both hands, encouraging you to squeeze as hard as you needed to. He counted breaths with you, encouraged you, and kept you stable during the entire process.

A few minutes into pushing, in between contractions, you rolled your head to the left to look at him. Hair stuck to your face, tears stained your cheek, your lip was bleeding it from biting it so hard, and Seungmin swore you had never looked more beautiful in your entire life.

Taking a deep breath, you smiled weakly at your husband. “We’re having a baby.” You said, voice raspy from screaming.

Seungmin smiled back, squeezing your hand. “We’re having a baby.”

“I love you so much.” Fresh tears began to roll down your face. “You’re already the best husband, and now-and now-“ your face winced in pain as another contraction hit. Seungmin jumped back in to support mode, helping you ride it out.

A few contractions later, Seungmin heard it. His son.

The baby, bigger than Seungmin thought he would be, was placed on your chest. You let out a cry of both joy and relief, dropping Seungmin’s hand to hold your baby. Sobbing, you held the baby into your chest.

“You’re here. You’re here.” You whispered through your tears, rocking the small child back and forth.

They took your son away before Seungmin had a chance to hold him. It’s okay, he knew that the next steps after birth. He was prepared.

He was always prepared.

An hour and five stitches later, you were soundly sleeping in your hospital bed. You tried to stay awake, wanting to be up when they brought your son back. Seungmin swore he would wake you up and convinced you to nap until then. He spent the hour calling his parents, your parents, his friends - anyone he could get ahold of at two in the morning.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then a nurse let himself in. Seungmin stood up quickly, watching as the nurse rolled the baby’s bed up next to you.

“Congratulations, Mr. Kim.” The nurse whispered, and then excused himself from the room.

Once the nurse was out, Seungmin took off his shirt. He was prepared; he knew skin to skin contact was important for infants.

He stood over his son and stared at him. He had a head full of thick, black hair and the cutest button nose Seungmin had ever seen. He couldn’t believe that he had a hand in creating something so wonderful, so perfect, so beautiful.

Careful as to not wake the baby, Seungmin picked him up and cradled him to his chest. “Hi, peanut.” He said, then placed a soft kiss right on his forehead. “I’m dad.”

Slowly, his son’s eyes opened and found his own.

Seungmin was always prepared.

But nothing - no books, no videos, no parenting classes - could ever prepare him for the love he felt when looking into his child’s eyes. In that moment, Seungmin was unprepared. He didn’t know what to expect.

And it was the best feeling in the world.

Yang Jeongin

If Jeongin had to describe his son’s first day of kindergarten in one word, it would be: unfortunate. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

The morning started out fine; everyone woke up on a time and was in a good mood. You and Jeongin even woke up with enough time to slip into the shower together before waking up your son for the day. Typically, fucking you dumb first thing in the morning is the sign of a good day. He really had no idea that it was just downhill from there.

You decided to wake your son up since you had to slip out to work early. Time with him today was precious, and Jeongin knew you would be a ball of tears if you didn’t get one on one time. So he took breakfast duty, determined to make an omelet as good as you do.

He was doing well; the topping fit perfectly, he folded it beautifully. For his first time, he was excelling. Maybe he should take a picture and brag about it in his group chat. There’s no way Hyunjin can make an omelet like this-

“What’s burning?”

Ah, fuck.

The omelet was too far gone, there was nothing he could do to save it. Scraping it, Jeongin decided to try his luck again, only to ruin it immediately. Whatever, sugary cereal is a great first day of school ever breakfast, right?

Your son certainly thinks so. When Jeongin places the bowl in front of him, the black haired boy smiles widely before shoveling the cinnamon cereal in his mouth.

“Slow down.” You say with a chuckle, placing a sliced apple on a plate next to his bowl. “You’re going to get sick.”

When he eats, you can tell he’s Jeongin’s son; cheeks puffed and full as he takes large bites. Round eyes look at you, silently pouting at your request. It’s too good to slow down. Besides, his father eats like this, why can’t he?

You look across the table at Jeongin, pointing at your son with your thumb. “This is your fault.”

He looked up from his breakfast, cheeks just as full and eyes just as large. A mirror image of his son, large bites and all. It makes you chuckle, even if you fear that they’re going to choke every time they eat.

Once breakfast is finished and the dishes are put away, it's time for you to go to work, and Jeongin to take your son to school.

“Mommy, no-“ your son whines, squirming away as you try to fix his uniform. “Don’t wanna take a picture.”

“Please, bubba? Just one, and then you and papa can-“

“No!” He fusses, moving out of your grasp. Sadly, you drop your arms in defeat. You’re not going to force him to do something that makes him uncomfortable, no matter how upset it makes you.

You look at Jeongin, who was watching this unfold from the garage door. He saw the tears in your eyes - both from having to leave and the rejection.

“It’s fine that you don’t want a picture, but can I at least have a hug?” You ask your son, not knowing if you can handle another no on a big day.

Luckily, your son crashed into your arms and hung tightly onto you. You kissed the top of his head, savoring his sweet hug before he complained about you squeezing him too tight.

Saying goodbye at the car was hard for you, lingering at his window for far too long to get one last look at him before school. Jeongin waited patiently until you stood to your full height. Your husband grabbed you, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s just school.” Jeongin whispered in your ear. “He’ll be back in a few hours.”

You nod your head, sniffling against his shoulder. “It’s just hard, ya know? He’s not a baby anymore.”

The last sentence made his heart sink, your emotions beginning to rub off on him. Quickly, he shoved the feeling to the back of his mind for both your sanity and his. “He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“Will you?”

A fantastic question, one that he wished he could answer, but was cut off by the impatient five year old in the backseat. You said goodbye one more time, fussing over the buttons on your son’s shirt before slipping in your car. Jeongin followed suit, leaving the garage right after you.

The goodbyes had set them back just a bit, but that was okay. The school was only a ten minute drive, and they still had plenty of time to-

“Papa?” His son chimed from the back. “I don’t have my backpack.”

Okay, so maybe they’ll be a little bit later than expected. Jeongin turned the car around, back home in less than a minute. The backpack was sitting by the garage door, making it easy to grab it and throw it in the passenger seat.

“Alright, all-“

“What about my foxy?”

Jeongin sighed, turning around in his seat to look at his son. “Foxy can’t come to school with you, Bubba. We talked about this-“

“But I need him.”

“Foxes don’t go to school. They stay at home where mama and papa can-“

“No! Need him!” His son cried, kicking the backseat. This wasn’t like him; typically the quietest, most mild mannered child, your son rarely threw fits. Jeongin knows it’s because of what today is, but he was determined to stand his ground. The fox was staying home-

-until he felt a shoe hit the back of his head as he tried to pull out of the garage for a second time that morning. Fine. The fucking fox can come.

Third time’s a charm, right? There were no hiccups this time as Jeongin left the house, Bubba happily humming in the backseat along with the music. Foxy was snug against his chest, a happy smile on his face. He might be missing a shoe, but hey, at least he’s happy.

And Jeongin can still make it on time. There shouldn’t be any more interruptions, now that his son is happy and he’s actually on the road. Everything should be smooth sailing from now on.

Of course there’s stand still traffic. Why wouldn’t there be?

Jeongin’s head hits the headrest, a groan leaving his lips as he rubs his face. This was not how today was supposed to go. First the omelet, then the picture, the backpack and the damn fox, and Jeongin’s pretty sure he has a headache from being hit with the shoe.

“Papa?”

“Hm?” He grunts into his hands.

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Sighing, Jeongin drops his hands, moving them back to the steering wheel. “Good question.” He mumbles mostly to himself.

For ten minutes, they stayed completely still, both slowly losing their patience. The Jeongin look-a-like was losing control faster than his father, kicking the back of his seat in protest. Like Jeongin could do anything about the traffic.

Right as Jeongin was about to say fuck school and turn around, the car in front of him moved. Whatever had been holding them up was over, a steady stream of cars now flowing into the school’s parking lot.

Jeongin finds the first parking spot at the back of the lot, quickly getting out of the car. He picks his son up, sitting him on the roof and putting his shoe back on (much to his son’s protest). Once it was on, he narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“I need you to give me Foxy now.” He said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Fear flushed his face, tiny fist gripping onto the fox’s white fur. “No. He has to go to school too.”

“Bubba-“ But when his son started lifting his foot like he was about to kick, he realized the damn fox wasn’t worth it. Jeongin would much rather get chewed out by the teacher, and you, than take a tiny foot to the face at 8:00 am. “Fine. But you have to take a picture for mama.”

The bribe worked - the innocent smile he gave the camera in front of the school made Jeongin roll his eyes. They walked into the school hand and hand, Bubba hiding behind Jeongin’s leg as they closed in on his classroom.

They stood in the line of parents, and before they could blink, it was their turn. Jeongin squatted down, eye level with his son, who was nervously holding onto his stuffed animal.

“Hey, Bubba.” Jeongin said softly, a hand reaching out to pat his head. “You okay?”

His son shook his head, burying his face in the fox. “I’m scared, Papa. Wanna go home-“

Jeongin felt his lip tremble as he looked at his son, who had been on his last damn nerve all morning. His sweet, nervous boy, who was acting out because of the newness of it all. His heart softened, and suddenly, his head stopped aching, every nerve easing.

“I know.” He whispers, smoothing his son’s hair. “I’m scared, too. You’re so much braver than Papa, I couldn’t ever do this.” His eyes began to sting, pride filling his heart. When did his baby get so big? “Do you want me to walk you in?”

His son looked inside the classroom, wide eyes scanning the room. Slowly, he shook his head no before looking back at his father. “No, I do it.”

Jeongin nodded. “Hug?”

The fox lessened the blow of his son’s crash. Jeongin held tightly until his son squirmed free, his wide eyes no longer nervous.

“I love you, Papa.”

That’s when the first tear fell. “I love you, too, Bubba.”

He watched as his son sprinted into the classroom, making a beeline to the musical instruments in the corner of the room. Lingering for just a second, he watched his son turn to the little girl next to him, excitedly giving her his name before asking if she wanted to play with him.

Jeongin’s heart ached in the best way possible as forced himself to walk away, silently crying as he left his son behind. It was silly - he’s going to be back here in a few hours to pick him up. There’s no reason to be so-

His phone pinged, announcing a text from you. When he pulled out his phone, the picture taken just moments ago was still up.

Everything went wrong today, so many hiccups in a day that should’ve been so easy. Yet, no matter how badly everything went, he wouldn’t trade a second of this day for anything. Even he can’t seem to stop crying.

©: chvnnie 2022

2K notes · View notes

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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