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BITTERSWEET REMEDY - ACT II

𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ ♔THE CROWN THAT BLEEDS

· · ─ ·✶· prince!jiung x healer!reader ▸ ⌜ 12k ⌟

synopsis — ·✶· Always busy in a whirlwind of his duties, Jiung, you childhood friend, has dedicated his life to serving the crown—ever the loyal and dedicated Prince. Though years have pulled you apart, his visits to your infirmary never ceased. But when you discover the truth behind his increasingly worrying visits, his distance begins to make more sense. Terrified of the unknown sickness taking over and the thought of leaving you behind, he pushes you away even as the feelings you have both buried since childhood begin to surface. Determined to save him, you set out on a journey for a cure that may not exist, all while trying to slip past the walls around his heart. And Jiung must choose between protecting you from the pain of his inevitable loss, or finally letting himself surrender to you.

· · ─ ·✶· nsfw (mdni), estranged friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, Jiung has an illness, touch starved!jiung, virgin!jiung, smut, hand job, loss of virginity, passionate sex, oral (f. rec), mentions of death, mentions of blood, almost (?) everyone makes a cameo, probably inaccurate medical things, HAPPY ENDING!

♫Two - Sleeping At Last

· · ─ ·✶· Welcome to TCTB finale act 2:') Nothing more from me enjoy <3 click here for the listening playlist I made

READ ACT I HERE / SERIES MASTERLIST

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You hadn’t even considered that things would change again after that, on the contrary, you assumed it would pull you closer together. That maybe with what you feared most coming nearer and nearer, that you would latch onto each other and savor whatever time you had left. But then, Jiung started becoming evasive again, and even your unwavering hope was beginning to dwindle.

At first you assumed he was just trying to make sense of everything again, so you gave him the space you thought he needed. But then slowly you realized if you didn’t seek him out, he didn’t come around. Even the short times you did see him, he quickly mumbled out an excuse to leave. It was when you tried to kiss him and he turned his face so your lips would meet his cheek instead that you realized what was really going on. And it hurt. Badly.

You were done trying to reason with him or instill hope in him. If he wanted to give up and distance himself from you, then so be it, but that didn’t stop your hunt for a cure.

In all your research, you had only discovered two leading contenders. The first and more accessible one clearly hadn’t worked, it just made the symptoms more manageable. All you had left was your plan B, and the thought of acquiring the most important and rare ingredient put you on edge. As if the situation weren’t difficult enough, your books only showed a record of it being grown in a nearby kingdom that bordered the Choi’s, and unluckily enough for you, it was an enemy one that they’d maintained a troubled peace with. You sent out a letter to one of your contacts for answers, and now all there was to do was wait and distract yourself from the Jiung sized hole that had carved itself into your heart.

But apparently, everyone in the castle had decided to be on their best behaviour. Patients were scarce with no colds of flus going around, and even the steady flow of Knights that wandered in with cuts that needed sewing had lessened to basically none. It gave you too much time to sit with your thoughts and your poor fingernails couldn’t handle any more anxious biting. So as per usual, you found solace in the only person that had truly been by your side through it all, and it just so happened that he found himself in a similar turmoil that mirrored your own.

The conversation with Taeyang on the sun-drenched balcony was exactly the escape you needed. You listened to each other’s grievances—the irony of how he was pushing away from his fiance compared to how Jiung was pushing you away, not lost on you—and it helped to put things into perspective. You appreciated how honest you could be with each other and had learned long ago how great his advice actually was when he wasn’t being moody and annoying.

“Hey, Jiung’s just scared, you know that?”

You crossed your arms protectively around yourself, staring at his chest so he wouldn’t see the tears welling. “I know.”

“So don’t let him go.”

You looked up to see the smile you heard so clearly in his voice, a lonely tear falling as you did. He reached up to brush it away, whispering, “I know you’ll mend him. In more ways than one.”

After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

“You know how he is. He needs to come to things on his own terms.”

Taeyang’s words stuck with you long after the conversation ended. Slowly, the bitterness you felt towards Jiung had begun to diminish, though never fully disappearing.

The whole time you had been so head-strong in your approach, deciding with a finality what would happen without giving him the chance to argue, but you were willing now to be patient and do exactly as Taeyang had suggested; let Jiung come to things on his own terms.

But you missed him, his lips, the soft sighs he made when he slept and the way his fingers would always seek yours. But you would wait for him, just like always.

·✶·

The next time Jiung spoke with you, it was to deliver the news that a guard—his sister’s—had been injured and would need surgery on arrival. You weren’t sure why he specifically was telling you, but you quickly suspected that it was a good excuse to finally talk to you after days of giving you the cold shoulder.

You could tell by the way he lingered after you told him you’d be ready for whenever the guard arrived, turning to prepare everything you’d needed and paying him no mind. If he thought you’d be the one to shift the conversation from professional to personal, he was gravely mistaken.

Eventually he cleared his throat. “So… how have you been?”

A bristle of annoyance—and slight pettiness—tickled you. “What do you think?”

Ouch. “Okay, I deserved that one.”

He watched you flit around the room, grabbing things he couldn’t even imagine what they were used for, waiting for you to stop and give him an ounce of your attention. But you didn’t, and it unnerved him. “Can you please stop and look at me.”

You did exactly that, freezing in place while looking at him incredulously. “You have some audacity demanding anything from me.”

“I said please—”

You sharply cut him off. “Look, Jiung, I understand that you may need space and time to process everything and—” You scoffed and threw your hands up and back down to your sides. “I will respect that, as I have been doing, but you can’t just come back asking how I’ve been when you left me alone, especially after how I found you.”

His cheeks flamed and he focused his attention on a chip in the floor, avoiding your eye contact. Maybe that was why it took him so long to talk to you again; he was embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I just.” He fidgeted in place before raising a hand to rub at the tension in his neck. “I really missed you.”

Just like that your annoyance crumbled away, leaving only a tender sympathy in its wake. You could understand the fear he must have felt with another seeing him in such a weak and vulnerable state, but it still made you frustrated with how easily he could knock down the stone walls you’d tried hard to build up.

You walked over to him and gently took his hand in yours, stilling its anxious motion. “I missed you too.” You gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. “But I really need to focus right now. We’ll talk after the surgery is successful.”

His lips tipped up at the word “successful,” admiring your unwavering confidence in your abilities. He nodded once in agreement.

He waited, hoping that you would kiss him the way you had in the village after he woke up without you by his side, fearing that you’d left without him. But you only squeezed his hand once more and dropped it to return to disinfecting your tools.

Soon enough, they were carrying the guard in and you quickly assessed the severity of the situation after ushering everyone besides Seojin out. The operation took several grueling hours, the blade slash on the guard—who’s name you found out was Shota—was deeper than you had anticipated, but thankfully no arteries or organs were hit.

You tied off the last suture, dressed the wound, and finally let out a deep breath, rolling your shoulders to relieve them of the painful ache that had formed. You opened the door to the infirmary to find Jiung with his hand wrapped around his distressed sister, and a nervous Jongseob stood opposite them.

You were never particularly close with them since by the time they were old enough, you were training to be a healer. But you still cared for them like you would a younger sibling and seeing them anxiously waiting made your heart ache, and you instantly reassured them.

“He’ll be okay. He’s asleep for now but we’ll keep him here while he recovers.”

Jongseob stepped forward to speak but the young princess beat him to it. “Can we see him?”

You gave her a gentle, appreciative smile at the concern for her guard. Many other princesses wouldn’t think twice about them. “Of course.”

She and Jongseob slipped into the room, leaving you and Jiung standing together in silence as you wiped away the remaining blood from your hands with a rag.

“Good work,” Jiung said softly.

“Why, thank you,” you replied with a playful smile.

“No, really. You’re incredible. I don’t know why kings and queens get all the glory. You’re literally saving people’s lives, we should be building you a statue—” he cut himself off when he realized he was beginning to ramble, especially when he saw the way your eyes began to expand wider and wider along with your lips and he suddenly felt incredibly hot. “U-um, anyway.”

How could you ever be mad at him when he was that adorable? A part of you wondered if it was a secret ploy of his to make you less and less susceptible to carrying any sort of anger or resentment towards him, because it was working and you had the sudden urge to slam him against the wall and kiss him silly just to see how shy and flustered he could get. And you would have, if it weren’t for the door opening again.

Jongseob emerged looking slightly more relieved than when he’d entered. “I’m just giving them some space. Thank you for saving him.”

You ruffled his hair which drew a toothy smile from him. “No thanks necessary.”

He gave Jiung a brief nod, then disappeared down the hall.

“I should probably go back in and check on him,” you said, turning back to face Jiung.

He tried and failed to mask the disappointment on his face. “O-oh okay.”

He let you go without another word and disheartenedly scuffed his shoe across the stone floor, turning away, already with plans to return later.

But every time he did, you were either busy with Shota, or nowhere to be found. He was going mad trying to catch you at the right time and he finally understood why you’d been so annoyed with him during his own period of withdrawal. The tables had turned and he hated it.

After hastily checking the infirmary for the third time that day and walking in on a room full of tension—you were nowhere to be found—he resorted to cornering the maid he knew often brought you tea, then darting off when she told him you were in your chambers.

He didn’t bother knocking when he arrived, instead he pushed the door open and walked right in.

You were sitting at your desk and you jumped slightly at his abrupt entrance, your hand darting to conceal a letter you’d received under a stack of books. He missed the furtive move amidst his hysteria.

“I’m pretty sure I just walked in on my sister and her guard kissing.”

You blinked slowly to process the announcement. “Okay… Young love is beautiful. What does that have to do with me?”

He huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “Well, I went there looking for you, as I have been for the past few days. And you weren’t there.”

You stood up and rounded your desk, perching yourself on its edge. “Well, you’ve found me.”

“You said we’d talk after the surgery.”

“Okay, let’s talk.”

He let out a small, frustrated whine. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Answering me like that!” He exclaimed, running a hand messily through his hair. “Like you don’t care—”

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile blooming on your lips at his childish behaviour. “Oh, Jiung, my love,” you cooed, dropping your voice to a seductive drawl. “Forgive me for being so busy. I was simply waiting for you to corner me.”

You were clearly joking, but he still had to swallow down the extra bit of saliva that had gathered in his mouth at your tone. “That’s… that’s not much better.”

“Then say what you want to say. I’m right here. All ears.” You settled back on the desk, your gaze fixed on him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, smoothing a hand down his tired face. “I want to apologize, but I feel like that’s all I’ve done lately.”

“An apology goes a long way,” you countered.

He nodded thoughtfully, then said, “I’m sorry.”

You tilted your head at him in question. “Sorry for…?”

“For pushing you away again.”

“And?”

“And for not just speaking with you. For shutting you out.”

You placed your palms flat behind you on the desk, resting your weight on them. You closed your eyes, a small, smug smile gracing your lips, sunbathing in the warmth of his contrition. “And?” You asked again, just because you enjoyed hearing him plead for forgiveness.

“And for being an idiot.”

There was so much more you could have made him apologize for, but seeing him so vulnerable was enough for you to grant him mercy.

“Okay,” you said, opening your eyes to meet his. “Apologies accepted.”

He was taken aback. “What? Just like that?”

You simply hummed in affirmation.

“So… you’re not mad at me?”

You shook your head. “Jiung, I was never mad at you. I know you and I understand why you do the things you do. But…” Your voice wavered. “It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

The deja vu hit him as he recalled the similar conversation you had together while riding to the village. He kept making the same mistakes, and he was tired of it. He moved to close the distance between you, the space between your bodies minimal, his intense gaze searching yours.

“Would you believe me,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “if I told you I’d never do that to you again?”

He looked so earnest as he spoke the words with a burning conviction. And you wanted to believe him—you really did, but…

“It’s not enough.”

A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Then what can I do?” He pleaded.

You leaned forward from where you were perched so your lips were inches from grazing his, your voice carrying a challenging lilt as you spoke. “Show me instead.”

You waited for him to bridge the gap, keeping still as he leaned in, but right before his lips brushed yours, you tilted your head, denying him. He pulled back with wild eyes, frustration clouding them.

“But,” you breathed, “No holding back.”

“Deal.”

The word barely left his mouth before he crashed his lips against yours. You hadn’t expected the force of it, from him no less. It stole the breath from your lungs and sent a jolt of burning heat straight to your core. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he swallowed your gasp, clinging to him to keep from toppling back onto the desk.

He pressed his hips forward. You could feel how hard he was even through the thick layers of your dress as he rutted against you. Your mouth fell open to let out a moan, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.

He pulled just enough to mumble, “I’ve been waiting for your lips,” before claiming your mouth once more.

His hands found your jaw to hold you still, pushing you back into the desk until it dug unforgivingly into your lower back. You welcomed the pain, especially when it was being softened by the pleasure of his skin connecting with yours.

You pushed your hips back to his, meeting his desperate grind with your own until his composure began to crack.

“I want you so bad… All of you,” he whined, biting his lip when you pressed harder against him.

You pulled back to take a breath, your chest heaving from how breathless he made you. “What are you saying?”

His tongue swiped over his kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Can we?”

You smirked. “You want me to take your virginity, Ji?”

He forced his lips back to yours, his hands flying to the laces of your corset, fingers fumbling with the ties. You moved your head, letting his seeking lips land on your cheek, then your jaw, his mouth leading a trail of fire down your skin.

“Remind me,” you said, tilting your head to give him better access. “How long have you been waiting?”

He answered with a low moan, his strong hands gripping your waist to force you around. You let out a surprised yelp as he pushed you forward, bending you over the surface of the desk to press his erection flush against you. His fingers returned to the laces, loosening them with urgency.

“Forever.”

You raised yourself enough to reach a hand back, tangling your fingers in his hair to tug him closer, pressing his mouth into the sensitive skin of your neck. He kissed and nipped at the skin, emboldened by the subtle grind of your hips against his.

His grip on your waist loosened when you pushed back against him extra hard, and you used the opening to turn back to face him once more. Your eyes never left his as you made quick work of the laces yourself, shrugging it and your skirts off, leaving you in nothing but your silk slip. The look in his eye as he watched you was one of pure need.

You took his slightly trembling hands in yours and led him the few steps to the edge of your bed. You cradled his cheeks and kissed him gently, the contrast from the hungry desperation moments before giving him whiplash. His breath hitched as his bravado withered, replaced with a wide-eyed wonder.

Your voice was a soothing murmur as you spoke, “I’m going to take care of you, Jiung. Don’t worry.” You kissed his cheek, your fingers sliding to undo the buttons of his shirt. You opened them with a tantalizing speed and slipped the fabric off his shoulders.

You took a moment to admire him, sweeping over the lean muscle of his torso that tensed with anticipation. You ran a hand down his chest, all the way down to the waistband of his trousers. “So pretty, Jiung.”

You opened them with a practiced hand, tugging them down to free his hard, straining cock. It sprang up and slapped against his lower stomach, flushed and heavy. You bit your lip at the sight, a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

You pushed him back onto the bed, his dark eyes remaining locked onto your face even as you gathered the hem of the slip and tugged it over your head. His body tensed further, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks.

You smiled at him. “You can look.”

He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze, his mouth falling open in awe as he drank in the sight with a reverence that stole your breath. His cock gave a visible twitch against his stomach.

You guided him further back into the bed before settling over his thighs, your heat so close to his. You gave him one last reassuring smile as you pushed him to lie back on the bed, your lips following him until they were working down his neck and chest, your tongue swirling over his nipple, then down the flat plane of his stomach, dipping into his navel.

When you reached his cock, he shot up on his elbows. “W-wait.”

You froze, looking at him questioningly.

“Sorry, I just… I don’t…” he stammered.

“You don’t want me to do this?” You asked gently, trying to coax the response from him.

He shook his head frantically. “No! No, I would love for you to do that, I just… I don’t want to u-um, finish so quick? Like last time…” The memory of his rapid climax brought a fresh wave of embarrassment flowing through him.

You soothed a hand over his hip, caressing his skin in soft, slow circles. “I don’t care that you did, Jiung. I loved it.”

“I-I know,” he said, earnest. “I just… want to be inside you. And I want to feel you…” He couldn’t say the words, but you understood—he wanted to feel you come undone as well.

A small, knowing smile graced your lips. “You know you can come more than once, right?”

He blinked, considering the foreign concept. In all his lonely nights, touching himself had always been a frantic, one and done release.

“It’s okay, though,” you said, bringing his attention back with a firm squeeze of your hand. “There will be plenty of time for that later. But…” You leaned a fraction closer, your breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his cock as he shuddered. “I do want to know what you taste like. If you’ll indulge me?’

He could only watch, fascinated, as you dipped a single finger over his slit, gathering the bead of precum that had gathered there. His stomach clenched tight when you brought your finger to your lips, maintaining his gaze as you licked it clean.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so ruined by a single sight.

“W-what… what does it taste like?” He managed to ask through the thickness that gathered in his throat.

Instead of answering, you slid your finger against him a second time, licking it off once more only to lean forward and press your tongue against his in a sloppy kiss.

He tasted himself on your tongue, salty and something different subtly beneath.

“Sweet,” you murmured against his lips. “I knew you’d taste sweet.”

You pushed his shoulders back once more, urging him to lie fully down on his back as you raised yourself to hover over him. “I’m just going to slick you up a bit, okay?”

He didn’t even know what that meant, but he nodded anyway. As far as he was concerned, you could have asked him for anything and he’d happily oblige.

And then you were sinking down until his hard length was nestled perfectly between your parted folds. The first contact sent shockwaves up your spine. Jing looked like he was barely there, mind caught somewhere between euphoria and the wet, warm heat that enveloped him with a pressure that felt like heaven.

You began moving, rocking slowly, sliding your body and coating him thoroughly in your arousal. His tip nudged your clit with every pass, sending little jolts of pleasure shooting through you.

Jiung’s chest rose and fell heavily with little pants as his hands tangled in the sheets beneath him. He looked almost agonized by the glide of your cunt against him which only fueled your movements more, working hard to draw out the sounds you knew he was holding back.

“Come on, Jiung. I wanna hear you. Remember? No holding back.”

You followed your words with a deep grind, pushing forward onto his stomach until his cock nudged teasingly at your entrance, and he finally broke. A high, desperate whimper fell from his mouth, his hips bucking up to seek more.

“Please,” he gasped, his eyes screwed shut, then flying open to plead with you. “I need more. I need to b-be inside you… please.”

The ache built higher in your belly as you braced your hands against his chest with a smile, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palms.

‘Okay, but we’ll go slow at first okay? It’s been a while for me.”

He couldn’t help but be pleased, nodding in agreement as his hands hovered at your hips. “Anything. Whatever you want just… please.”

You rose to your knees and reached between your bodies to take him in your hand, guiding him to your entrance. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, Jiung’s eyes locked at the point of contact. The head of his cock pressed against your opening with a blunt, insistent pressure. You sank down an inch, breathing through the stretch and trying to adjust to his size.

A sharp, punched-out whine left him as he arched his back off the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, his toes curling at the tightness of your cunt gripping his tip.

“Jiung,” you moaned his name, pausing at just that overwhelming inch of him, your legs trembling to hold your body up. “Look at me.”

He forced his eyes open. They were glazed and overwhelmed, a thick wall of moisture coating his lashline. You lowered yourself more, the burn intensifying then melting away, leaving only a deep, throbbing fullness as you took him fully in.

A lonely tear slipped from his eye down to his cheek.

“Ji?” You whispered, pausing again with concern.

He shook his head as the tears began flowing freely. “Don’t stop,” he choked out. “It’s just… you’re so perfect. I-it’s so much. I never… I didn’t…”

His words dissolved into soft babbling sobs as he reveled in the feeling of being so close and connected with you. When the still pressure became too much, you leaned forward and began rocking yourself gently over him, his breath catching with every small movement. He gripped your thighs tight in his hands, his touch worshipful. “O-oh… oh, gods,” he moaned, his head falling back against the pillows.

You rode him with a steady pace, rising and sinking onto him as the stretch fully faded, leaving behind a rolling pleasure. Eventually, his hips began to stir beneath you with small jerks.

“Can I…?” He asked.

“Yes, Ji. Move with me.”

His hand tightened on your flesh as he met your downward stroke with his hard thrusts. They were clumsy and uncoordinated at first, but he quickly found a rhythm that matched yours. The force of it drove him deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you.

“That’s it,” you moaned, your movements faltering as you let him take the pace. Each drive desperate and seeking to push himself closer to the edge.

He was losing himself, you could feel his cock swelling inside you, throbbing against your walls. “F-fuck I can’t—” he waned, his voice high and strained.

“It’s okay,” you panted, leaning down to kiss him roughly. “Let go. Just let go.”

He slammed up into you one final time and stilled with a shattered cry, buried to the hilt. His whole body went rigid, back bowing high off the bed as his release pulsed hot and deep inside you. You held still, your cunt squeezing him tighter with every shuddering pulse, watching as relief washed over his tear-streaked face.

As the last of his cum seeped out, his body went limp beneath you, boneless as he breathed in deep gulps of air. You stayed seated on him, trying to ignore the insistent pressure in your stomach begging for release. You could feel him softening inside you so moved to slip off but then his weak hand shot out to grip your hand.

“No… don’t.”

“Jiung—”

His bleary eyes found yours in the haze. “Did you finish?”

You stroked his damp hair away from his forehead. “No. But it’s okay. Just wanted to take care of you.”

His brows furrowed, a pained but determined look taking over his ruined face. “Please,” he begged. “Please keep going. Want you to come, too. Need to feel it.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, the denied climax already building back up again from the thrill.

“P-please…”

You moved tentatively at first to really make sure he was okay, then building yourself back up until you were fucking his softening length back to full hardness.

You moaned, sinking down fully until his cock was nudging your cervix. “Oh, Ji…”

Your thighs burned and ached, spent from holding yourself up for so long. Your rhythm faltered, resulting in shallow, desperate rocks against him that couldn’t build the friction you knew you needed to fall over the edge.

You whined in frustration and Jiung, sensing your dilemma, forced himself up until he was clumsily flipping you over, still impaled on his cock.

The world spun for a moment then you were on your back. He was panting, sweat dripping down his neck, his eyes dark and glazed with a renewed hunger.

He thrust into you once, a cavernous, claiming stroke that drew a rugged wail from you.

Then he was moving, pistoning into you with a strength you didn’t know he still had in him, his hips snapping against yours. Each drive split you open on his cock, the force of it pushing you up the bed. He dropped his head into your neck to bury the sounds of his cries as he lost himself completely in you.

“You’re so tight,” he slurred, his words muffled and whiny. “I’m s-so deep in you, f-fuc—ngh—”

He was hitting that spongy spot with every brutal thrust, the pleasure winding tight until it snapped and your mind went black, the white hot pleasure raking through you. You squeezed his cock tight as you shook beneath him, his hips never letting up their thrusts.

“J-Ji,” you gasped, your hands scrabbling at his back, “I-I came—you can stop—ah!”

His pace didn’t slow. If anything, it picked up.

“Please,” he sobbed, the sound broken and pleading. “I can’t stop—please can I keep going? It f-fuck—it hurts so good, need to come again, please, please, need you…”

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Yes, keep going, Ji. Take whatever you want from me… I’m yours.”

He rutted into you, his cock slipping out only to pierce back into your hole. “Gonna come,” he gasped. “Gonna come inside and fill you up, please…”

With a final, guttural cry, he drove deep and stilled, his entire body seizing as his second release flooded into you, hot and endless, pumping you full of his seed. He collapsed over you, pressing you further into the mattress with his cock still spurting weakly inside you as the last of his orgasm wrung from him.

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling him tightly to your chest as his consciousness returned. His breathing was ragged, broken apart by an occasional hiccuping sigh against your damp skin. You murmured a string of praises into his ear, holding him—his passion, his desperation, his surrender—as close as you possibly could.

·✶·

The only word Jiung could use to describe how he felt was tortured. He loved you; he knew it, you knew it, everyone with two eyes could see it within a split-second glance. What he didn’t know or understand was how extensive his capacity to love was. He felt it in his heart every time he so much as thought of you. But it was minuscule compared to what he felt now.

The need for you that overcame him was torture. It felt like a permanent pressure that was embedded into his chest and injected into his veins; a craving to drown himself in your body without a care for something as insignificant as oxygen; you had breathed life back into him already.

He was yours, and you were his, and he made sure to remind you of it constantly. You realized what was happening the next morning when at the first flutter of your lashes, he kissed you, his hands seeking possessively to map your body.

“It’s barely dawn… why are you awake?” You murmured into his mouth, your spine already arching into him.

“I kept dreaming of you,” he mumbled against your jaw, his lips trailing to your ear. “And how much I needed you.”

And you gave yourself to him, his movements slower but no less desperate than the previous night. You’d awoken something in him, something tenacious and volatile that filled you with a deep satisfaction. You told him not to hold back—and he heeded your request. Everywhere, at all times, even in the infirmary where anyone could walk in at any moment.

“Jiung, the door—ah!” You moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder behind you.

“We have to be quick then,” he breathed, his hands sliding up your thighs, bunching your skirts. He bent you over your worktable, pushed your undergarments aside, and entered you with no pretenses, muffling your cries with a hand clasped over your mouth, a useless feat due to the whimper that fell off his tongue.

He fucked you against the table, quick and fierce, until your knees had given out and you were left held up only by his strength. He kissed you softly afterwards with the promise of “More later,” before straightening his clothes and slipping out as quickly as he’d come.

His aptitude for sex was quite shocking, seeing as he could barely touch you before, when in reality you should have seen that coming. He was—annoyingly—good at almost everything he did, and fucking you was no different. Still, you had to believe that he did his research, maybe read a book or two on the art and (apparently) difficult task that was pleasing a woman properly, because there was no reason for him to be that good.

“Y-yes Jiun—oh! Fuck, right there—” You were barely instructing him any more, his request for you to teach him how to pleasure you with his tongue long faded into the background of your mind.

His tongue applied a delicious, exquisite pressure to your clit, pressing firmly until you were tugging his hair and squeezing your thighs around his head. Then he’d flick the tip of his tongue against it, rapid and light, until you squirmed from the intensity and saw stars.

He was moaning so much against you, you questioned who was enjoying it more. His hand gripped yours, held at the junction of your hip, while the other wandered to your sopping hole, rubbing through your arousal and tracing your entrance without ever pressing inside.

His tongue massaged your cunt even as your orgasm crashed into you, drinking in every tremor and pulsing shock until you were a shuddering, oversensitive mess, weakly pushing at his head.

“T-too much,” you panted, tears leaking from your eyes. “Ji, too much.”

He finally relented, crawling up your body to kiss you, your arousal coating his lips, nose and chin. He was breathing heavily, his own arousal pressed against your thigh, a curious look in his eye.

“Did I do it right?”

You could only narrow your eyes at him. You were meant to teach him, but instead he ripped the lesson from your hands and rewrote it himself.

You enjoyed watching how emboldened he became, pulling you into random broom closets and lifting you to take you against the wall, escaping meetings to seat you on his lap in secluded balconies. He was insatiable, his hunger growing with every encounter.

The gentle, overwhelmed boy was still present in the moments before and after, kissing you tenderly and holding you with care. But the act itself had turned ravenous. He chased his pleasure with a shameless, beautiful greed, always murmuring helpless praises and adorations against your skin.

You welcomed the constant soreness between your thighs with opened arms, a testament to his devotion. But as always the insecurity found its way back to him one evening after he’d pinned you to the floor of his chambers—not bothering to cross over to the bed—rutting into you with a force that left him weak and sobbing.

Afterward, he’d laid his head on your chest in bed, sniffling through his apologies. “I’m sorry if I’m being too much. I j-just, every time I see you I need you so bad and—I can’t control myself.”

You cradled his face and wiped the tears away. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing for wanting me, Jiung. Never be sorry, because I want you just as much.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable amidst the wreckage of his desire. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

You answered him by guiding his hand between your legs, showing him instead of telling, how ready you still were for him. He kissed you, the last of his pretenses crumbling.

·✶·

After passing Jiung in the hall, he subtly leaned in to whisper in your ear, requesting for you to meet him in his chambers, and that his meeting would be brief. You waited and waited, boredom overtaking you as you concluded that the meeting had gone over time, and you found yourself drifting to his desk, seeking any sort of entertainment.

You picked up letter after letter, book after book, finding nothing but boring tales of past wars and attacking strategies, until you lifted the last book from the pile, finding a parchment hidden beneath.

You recognized his handwriting, freezing in place when you read the words “My Darling,” You placed the large book in hand back over it, your heart thudding in your chest. Don’t, a voice inside you commanded. You turned away from the desk, listening to every inkling in your body that told you not to invade his privacy like that, but you were always too curious for your own good.

You whipped around and pulled the parchment from under the book, your eyes quickly scanning the writing, except with every word read, the regret pooled low in your stomach until it built higher, overflowing into your throat.

My Darling, If you are reading this, the worst has come to pass. Before anything, I must implore onto you the depths of what you’ve done for me with hopes that you see just how much life I’ve really lived, how much life you gave me, and how much love you graced me with even when I deemed myself unworthy…

Your vision blurred, your breath catching in your throat, as you read through the goodbye letter, your stomach squeezing with a wave of nausea.

You stumbled lightly and gripped the table, nails carving painfully into the wood to steady the sudden dizzy spell that overcame you. Then you heard his voice and accepted that you’d officially gone crazy, until you heard the Keeho’s laughing with him outside the door.

You slammed the book down with panic, returning the rest on top, shuddering when they almost collapsed due to your shaking hands. You stumbled to the window, gripping the sill, and staring out at the courtyard in an effort to calm yourself. But your ears were ringing, drowning out the world around you.

You didn’t hear him come in. It was only when you felt his touch, gentle on your arm, that you jumped with a frightened gasp.

“Woah, hey,” he said softly, concern painting his expression. “Are you alright? I’ve been calling your name.”

You turned to him, your face a carefully crafted mask of indifference. “Sorry, just distracted.”

“By what?”

To erase the letter and the words of despair from your mind, you did the only thing you knew would make you forget, if only temporarily. You kissed him, hard, pouring every ounce of fear, love, denial into it, moulding your body against his.

He pulled back, his hands stopping you even as you pushed forward. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything right now.”

You pulled him back in from the waistband of his trousers, whispering, “I just need you.”

He responded by banding his arms around you, kissing you back with equal fervor. He didn’t question the sudden intensity, already lost in the feeling of your tongue against his.

But the note stayed with you, an invisible barrier between your bodies as he undressed you, and whispered into your ear how much he loved you. His lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue circling it as he entered you, filling you with that aching fullness you loved.

As if sensing you needed it, he moved against you with slow, passionate thrusts, stroking every single inch of your soft walls to drag out the pleasure. His dark eyes locked onto yours as you clung to him, meeting his thrusts with your own, trying to lose yourself in the physical to ward away the cold dread that had dug its claws into your soul. You felt him near the end as his climax peaked, and then the hot, familiar flood as he spilled inside you with a needy whine, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

It was when the friction stopped and his panting slowed that you lost the fight. A small, wet sniffle escaped you, a pathetic sound that you tried desperately to choke back, the sob forcing its way up your throat.

He assumed it was from your own orgasm at first until he felt the tremble that ran through you. He pulled back, lifting his head, his soft and dazed eyes sharpening with alarm as he took in your tear-streaked, red face.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hands swiping across your cheeks despite the tears still flowing. “What’s wrong, my love? Did I hurt you?”

He did, but not in the way he’d thought. You couldn’t respond, your voice cracking as the sobs escaped, his worry deepening.

“I d-don’t want—I don’t want you t-to die.”

Your face scrunched with pain as you tried to hold back the next sob through clenched teeth. It forced its way out, wracking your whole body as you shook, “I can’t lose you, Jiung. I can’t, I can’t… I love you so much, please, you can’t leave me! You can’t…”

He was stunned into silence, bewildered by the sudden, violent display of grief. He pulled you into his chest, always your harbor, cradling the back of your head, trying to hold you together as you shattered.

He tried asking what was wrong, but you were too distraught to speak, so he just held you, rocking you gently, whispering soft, soothing words into your hair as you wept until your voice was hoarse and your body was limp with exhaustion. He held you as yours sobs subsided into shaky whimpers, eventually melting away into deep breaths when you finally succumbed to sleep.

When he was sure you were asleep, he let his own worried tears fall, kissing your temple over and over, whispering apologies for the pain he couldn’t fix..

·✶·

As soon as the letter made its way into your hand, you found an empty hallway and impatiently ripped open the seal, hoping it carried the confirmation you’d been anxiously waiting to hear for weeks.

Your eyes flew over the messy sprawl of words.

—the item you seek is available—must be paid in full upon delivery—come to the border alone—

Your heart thudded with a multitude of different emotions. Relief, fear, worry—but hope most of all. Because even you had started to lose it despite the facade you put on in front of Jiung, but it was hard to maintain while not knowing if the one thing that could save him existed, especially when you saw everything he so valiantly tried to hide.

He thought he was concealing it well, but nothing could stop you from noticing all the signs creeping back into him. He thought maybe if he doused you in enough love, you'd grow blind to the fatigue and pain but it only illuminated it further. You could tell it was getting bad this time, and you weren't sure how many relapses he had left in him.

Getting there would be difficult. You re-read the instructions carefully, already plotting in your head. The price of the rare plant extract was hefty, basically your whole life savings, but you were relieved you didn't have to worry about that part.

The hard part would be getting there, especially with how Jiung clung to you like a shadow since the night you broke down in his arms. He’d become more attentive than ever, rarely leaving your side as if his presence was the solution to warding off any negative emotions.

You considered trying to reason with him, but he would never allow it with how dangerous the border was. You were sure he’d even go to the lengths to lock you in your chambers if necessary. You leaned back against the stone wall, the letter crumpling in your tight fist. The only thing you could do was come up with a good enough excuse.

You quickly found faults in every lie you crafted, knowing he would see through them. You folded the letter and slipped it beneath your corset with a deep sigh, and returned to work.

But later that night, like a miracle sent from the heavens, you caught word that an envoy was planning a trip to the southernmost city of the kingdom, the border only a day's ride away from it.

It was perfect. Devising a plan from there was simple. You’d ride out with the envoy, citing the city as a medical hub (which it was), from which you would restock your supplies (which you did need to do). What he didn't know was that you were planning on parting from the envoy to make the rest of the journey to the border yourself.

Telling Jiung was… an experience. He did little to hide his displeasure, adamantly trying to convince you not to make the journey, but with no real reasons as to why you shouldn't and with the protection of the guards that would accompany you, there was nothing he could do.

You’ve made similar trips before, but that didn't make him any more inclined to be happy about it, and he made sure to let you know. All it took was a few hours of giving him the cold shoulder for him to come around, and even then he still lodged subtle complaints at you.

“So,” he murmured from where his head was resting in your lap, “you’re staying right?”

You chuckled to hide the tinge of guilt you felt from lying, carding your fingers through his hair. “You’re cute.”

You diverted your eyes from where his skin glowed under the sun to beyond the balcony, taking in the rare moment of peace.

Jiung cracked open an eye, his lower lip jutting out in an expressive pout. “What am I supposed to do while you're gone? For a whole week.”

You raised an eyebrow when he sighed softly, a low content hum from how you scratched his scalp. “First of all, it's five days. Second of all, what did you do when you were… I don't know, ignoring me?”

His lips twisted into a scowl, the expression so petulant it forced you into a fit of giggles. “I just wallowed in my misery,” he grumbled.

You gave his hair a firm, playful tug to which he faked a low whimper of pain at. The sound sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

“Don’t be dramatic, I’ll be back before you know it.”

He sighed with worry, his hand raising to envelop yours at his chest, lacing your fingers together. “I’m just worried. Did you hear about what happened to the Western Princess and her sister?”

“Yes but that was because of the alliance, Jiung. I’ve made this trip before. And with the guards I’ll be perfectly safe.”

He turned his face, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin at your wrist. “I know. It’s just…I’ll miss you. I get restless when you're not near.”

“I’ll miss you too,” you said over the ache in your heart. “But think about all the new exciting medical texts I’ll bring back. Oh—you can help me read them!”

“On second thought…”

You ripped your hand away from his to shove him away from you, frowning when he bursted into laughter. He caught them back in his own easily, returning them to his hair and chest. You held his frail frame and allowed yourself to exist in the peace for a little while longer.

The next morning you left before he woke, your warmth still lingering on the sheets beside him. He stayed there until he could no longer feel your presence.

The first few days were bleak. He dove back into his work with the intensity he had before you took up the majority of his time to distract himself not only from your absence, but from his deteriorating body.

It made him recall when he’d kept you company during one of your late night research sessions, and he’d questioned you on your unwavering optimism.

“Because of the expectation effect,” you replied.

“The what?”

“The expectation effect. It’s a psychological phenomenon where your beliefs, mindsets, and anticipations act as a self-fulfilling prophecy,” you explained. “So essentially your mindset plays a part in determining the outcome of your situation. If you believe you’ll get better there is a higher chance you will.”

Your words stuck with him long after the conversation ended. He simply couldn’t fathom how you were mentally strong enough to just choose the mindset you wanted, until he started doing it himself.

The expectation effect. You expected him to live, so he felt more alive. But he was doomed to believe that your love would be enough to nurse him back to health.

It became blatantly obvious how severe his condition had become. He had to rise from chairs slowly, or a sudden galaxy of stars would explode behind his eyelids. His lungs burned when he over exerted himself, and his bones ached from deep within. Taeyang, who watched him grow paler and more brittle by the day, took it upon himself to dismiss him from the majority of his duties with a firm, worried look.

Each time he’d return to his chambers, exhausted and with despair, he yearned to curl into your side, to bury his face in your hair as your touch soothed his body while convincing him that he’d be okay.

On the day before your return, a maid found him in the library to inform him that the envoy had returned a day earlier than expected. He shot up from his seat quicker than he should have, the sudden motion sending a violent wave of dizziness and nausea crashing through his body. He gripped the table to steady himself, then pushed forward to not waste any more time from seeing you.

He arrived at the castle entrance as quickly as he could, finding the coachman and guards unpacking the carriage. He scanned the small crowd that gathered, searching for your smile, growing frustrated when you appeared to be nowhere in sight.

The men noticed him and bowed in unison. “Your Highness.”

“Where is the healer?” Jiung demanded in a tone firmer than he meant.

A senior guard stepped forward. “Your Highness, she parted ways with us when we reached the southern city. She said you and Prince Taeyang were made aware of her altered plans.”

His heart sank. “What? Did she say where she went?”

The guard shook his head, his demeanor faltering under the prince’s intense stare. “No, Your Highness. She collected her personal pack and said she had other business to attend to.”

The words rang in his mind. Other business? What other business could you possibly have in the south? He racked his brain to recall if you’d mention anything, but he drew a blank. The panic began rising steadily and without another word, he turned on his heel, his body stiff with fear.

He stumbled through the castle corridors with no destination in mind until his vision swimming at the edges, the fatigue threatening to pull him under. He rounded the corner just as another figure did, and he collided with a solid chest.

Strong hands wrapped around him to stop him from falling. “Woah, hey—are you oka—” Taeyang’s voice was laced with concern as he took in Jiung’s pallor and wide eyes.

“Do you know where she went?” Jiung cut him off sharply.

“Where who went?”

“She didn’t return with the envoy.” Jiung’s breath hitched. “They said—t-they said she diverged from them. Taeyang, where did she go?”

Taeyang’s face tightened, his own worry surfacing. “I don’t know… Jiung, please don’t panic. Okay? Just… just go to her chambers and see if she left a note or something. I’ll go ask Seojin if she mentioned anything.”

Jiung was already off, his legs carrying him as best as they could, put into motion purely from the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Once he arrived, it didn’t take long for the room to transform into a tornado of scattered books and objects thrown every which way. He scanned your desk, knocking and shoving around vials of ingredients until he was convinced he’d searched everywhere.

He stood in the center of your room, chest heaving and mind a whirlwind of worst case scenarios.

“Where are you?” he whispered, sinking into your bed and grabbing a pillow to hold tight to his chest. He heard the crinkle of paper and turned to where he’d picked it up from, finding a hidden piece of parchment. He snatched it in his grip, eyes flying over the script.

The words blurred together as he took in the message and the reality of what you were doing—or attempting to do. You were headed towards the most dangerous place in the whole kingdom to retrieve a cure for him.

In a fit of anger, he crumpled the parchment in his fist and attempted to throw it across the room. When it fell only an inch away from him, fluttering softly to the floor, he caught it in his hand and tore it to shreds before leaning forward to hold his head in his hands as the bile clawed up his throat. He forcibly swallowed it down and took a deep breath to focus his attention on what mattered most, making sure you were okay.

He moved through the castle with a singular purpose in mind, bursting through the stables and saddling his horse with nothing but the clothes on his back. Taeyang, who saw him storming through the grounds, followed him in with confusion.

“Jiung! What’s going on, what did you find?”

Jiung turned, his face a shocking sight, paler than ever and damp with sweat.

“I-I found a note. She’s going to the southern border to retrieve a cure? I don’t know, Taeyang, but she’s alone and you know how dangerous it is and I have to help her.”

Taeyang’s eyes widened in alarm as he watched his brother manically pace and prep his horse. He shouted his name to draw back his attention.

“Jiung! You can’t—You’re going to kill yourself if you go out there. You’re in no condition—”

“She’s doing it for me, Taeyang!” Jiung’s voice cracked as he screamed. “If anything happens to her out there because of me—”

“But she could be perfectly fine!” Taeyang argued back, gripping his arm.

“I can’t risk it,” Jiung shook his arm off, shoving him back when he reached for him again. “I can’t!”

“Then wait!” Taeyang pleaded. “Let me gather a carriage and a unit of guards.”

Jiung swung himself up onto the saddle, faltering slightly before finding his balance. He looked down at his brother’s frantic face, his own one of finality. “Send them,” his voice now frighteningly calm. “I’m just going to get a head start.”

“Jiung, don’t! You won’t make it like this! Please, listen to me.”

Jiung had already cracked the reins with a harsh snap, the horse shooting forward and out of the stables. Taeyang’s shouts became background noise against the pounding of hooves and the sharp wind nipping at his eyes; he begged for his failing body to hold out just long enough to ensure that you were okay.

·✶·

The ride back to the castle was pleasant as you admired the large planes of fields that faded into dense forests. The weight of the plant extract sat heavily in the satchel against your stomach. The journey there had been tense with the weight of all the coin and gold pieces held in the saddle of the horse, beckoning thieves and rebels with its alluring clink, but no trouble had come. Not even when you wearily approached your contact whose appearance was concealed with a head wrap.

The exchange occurred without a hitch, and soon enough you were riding back through the southern city and you could finally relax. You even managed to stop and buy Jiung a beautifully crafted leather journal he mentioned he’d been wanting.

When you were a half day’s ride away from the castle, the nerves began to filter in. The extract was your last option. If it didn’t work… You pushed the thought away. There was no point in worrying about it now, you’d have plenty of time for that after trying it.

You were staring fixedly ahead, mind alert just in case any trouble decided to find you. When movement caught your eye, you stiffened, straightened your spine, and hardened your appearance in preparation to deal with whatever might come of the situation. The rider was coming fast and you hoped they would blaze right past you.

You reached for the dagger at your side, your hand clenching around it, until they got closer. Something about the rider’s form seemed familiar. When the blur from the distance lessened and the dark hair focused into view, a cold chill washed through you. His head was down, shoulders slumped forward, and you called out softly, still unsure.

“Jiung?”

The rider’s head lulled up. You could just barely make out the features you’d grown to know so well, and faintly, you heard his voice calling your name.

“Jiung!” you screamed this time, commanding the horse to gallop forward. The nearer you got, the more the dread consumed you when you noticed the grey of his skin visible despite the distance. His lips moved, uttering something you couldn’t hear.

He swayed on the horse before tipping to the side, falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

You reached him within seconds, not allowing your horse to fully stop before throwing yourself off the saddle, a shock of pain shooting up your ankle when it made contact with the hard floor. You ignored it, scrambling to where he lay crumpled on his side.

“Jiung! Jiung, you’re okay—” You pushed him onto his back, your hands cradling his cheeks. His eyes were closed, his long, dark lashes stark against the translucence of his skin. You shook him, gently at first, then with increased desperation. “Open y-your eyes. Come on, love. Wake up.”

You seized your movements, his head returning slack to the side, still and unresponsive. You forced your ear down to his chest, holding your breath to listen for a heartbeat, but you couldn’t hear anything over your own pounding in your ear. With trembling hands, you gripped his wrist, focusing on feeling for a pulse, but nothing.

“No, no, no,” You chanted, your voice bursting in and out. You swept a hand across your forehead, wiping away the sweat that had collected there, taking in deep breaths to calm the panic just enough to be able to tilt his chin back, pinch his nose, and breathe your own air into his mouth. You positioned your hands over his sternum, interlocking your fingers, and began compressions, counting aloud through gritted teeth.

You repeated the action several times over until you were heaving, muscles screaming for you to stop. You pressed your fingers to his neck and waited, the seconds long and agonizing, until you felt the slightest tremor beneath your fingertips. You cried out with relief and pushed yourself up, stumbling back to unbuckle the horse’s saddlebag for a syringe.

You fell back beside him on your knees, fumbling with your satchel for the extract. When you finally got it out, your hands shook as you tried to draw up the liquid into the syringe, and you pleaded with yourself until you were finally able to do it.

You yanked the sleeve of his shirt up and unceremoniously plunged the needle into his skin, injected the liquid into his blood.

“Please w-work… please…”

Except you didn’t know how quickly it would work, or if it would at all. You clutched his wrist in your hand, and laid your head back on his chest. There was a weak, sluggish thud. Then nothing, then another, agonizing seconds later. They were far too slow and apart, and you were at a loss for what to do next.

You whimpered uncontrollably against his chest, the sorrowful sound transforming into wretched sobs that shook your whole body.

“No!” You could no longer contain the cry that was muffled into his chest. “You can’t—don’t leave me—” You shook him again, the tears blurring your vision, hot and unrelenting. “I tried so hard, I did it all for you, because I lo—” You choked on the words, but forced them out despite the thickness in your throat. “I love you so much, Jiung.”

You swiped the tears away to see his beautiful face, some sick part of your brain convincing you that he’d be there, eyes wide open, lips smiling softly the way you loved. But there was only a serenity, emptied of pain, worry, and the love that he’d always looked back at you with. His wrist grew colder in your palm.

Your mouth fell open in a silent wail, your hand flying over it in disbelief as your shoulders shook. You wrapped your arms around him, clutching him to you as if you could force your life into his still form.

“Help!” You screeched, lifting your tear-streaked face to the surrounding forest. “Please, somebody!”

But there was no one. You buried your face in the hollow of his neck, your lips brushing his skin as you rocked him gently, whispering pleas and promises until only the rustle of leaves remained.

·✶·

At the center of the light, a picture emerges, its edges soft and blurred, the colors washed out and muddy.

A girl and a boy stood in a field littered with wildflowers. The boy’s hands were clasped tightly behind his back. Hidden in his sweaty palms was a ring made from a twisted flower stem, a daisy carefully threaded at the center.

The girl waited patiently, her head tilted as she dug the toe of her slipper into the dirt below, making little divots.

The boy swallowed, his throat tight with nerves. He smiled, a wide, earnest grin through missing teeth, and then sank down onto one knee in the grass.

He presented the ring, his small hand trembling. The girl looked down at him, her brow furrowed in question.

“Will you marry me?” he asked with a squeaky voice.

She blinked. “We can’t get married, dummy. We’re seven.”

His face fell instantly. The bright hope in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a crushing wave of embarrassment. His hand lowered. “Not now,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the grass intently. “When we’re grown-ups…”

“But we’re best friends!” She stated, as if it was the most obvious argument in the world.

His cheeks flushed an even deeper, mortifying pink. He felt stupid holding the dumb, childish ring in his hand. He jumped to his feet, snatching his hand back. “I was just joking!” he declared, turning on his heel to march away, the hot sting of foolish tears pricking his eyes.

But before he could take two steps, a small hand grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back.

He stood rigid, refusing to meet her eyes.

She gently pried his clenched fist open and took the crushed flower ring from his hand. With great care, she slipped it onto her finger. It was far too big, sliding every which way when she moved her hand, but she raised it high anyway, letting it dangle at the base of her knuckle, lopsided.

She admired it against the blue sky, then looked at him, a wide, magnificent grin spreading across her face. “Look, it’s perfect!”

He peeked at the ring on her finger, at her beaming smile. The embarrassment melted into a shy, overwhelming warmth that consumed his body.

He looked away, bashful, a small smile now at his lips. She hesitated for only a second, then reached out and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together naturally, the flower ring pressed between them.

“Come on,” she said, giving his hand a tug. Her tone returned to its usual, mischievous lilt. “Let’s go mess with Taeyang and Keeho.”

She led him away from the flower field, back toward the castle. He followed after her, his steps light and his heart so full he thought it might burst.

The picture of the two children, hand in hand grew smaller and smaller, fading into the haze until all that was left was bright, boundless light.

·✶·

It took Jiung a few moments after opening his eyes to realize where he was. The familiar scent of the infirmary greeted him as the world swam into focus, relieving any doubt that he’d found himself in the afterlife instead.

When he fully came to, he shifted right and left, searching for you while disregarding the ache in his muscles.

You were okay. It was the last thing he remembered before being plunged into oblivion. You were okay.

The rustle of sheets caught the attention of Seojin, who had been quietly organizing vials at a side table. The younger healer-in-training had picked up extra shifts since the incident, his usual cheerful demeanor tempered by how distraught you’d arrived back at the castle.

He turned, his eyes widening, and darted to the bedside, bowing respectfully.

“Prince Jiung, you’re awake.”

“Where is she?” Jiung croaked out urgently. He pushed himself up on his elbows, already attempting to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

“I-I’m not sure—you shouldn’t be moving—” Seojin stammered, cutting himself off when he saw Prince Jiung’s eyes widened in alarm.

He rushed to correct himself. “Wait! Wait, I meant—she’s in the castle, I’m just not sure where at this moment.” He moved to assist Jiung to sit up fully, plumping the pillows behind him. He handed Jiung a glass of water, which Jiung chugged down, only then realizing how parched and scratchy his throat felt.

“How long was I asleep?”

“A few days. She watched over you the majority of the time. But…” Seojin trailed off, looking down at his hands.

“But what?” Jiung pressed, his heart clenching.

“I don’t think she could take it anymore,” Seojin admitted quietly. “Seeing you that way.”

Jiung’s eyes watered, then he nodded and let his head fall back against the pillows. His cheeks warmed at the prospect of Seojin knowing about your affection for each other.

Seojin, sensing the need for distraction, picked up his file. “May I ask you some questions about how you’re feeling?”

Jiung gave a listless nod, his mind already far away as he mechanically answered his questions—no dizziness, no nausea, slight fatigue, he was breathing fine. It was incredible; he should be grateful to be alive, he should be jumping for joy, but all he wanted was you.

“Remarkable,” Seojin murmured, finishing up his notes. “We’ve been administering very small, carefully measured doses of the extract she brought back. I don’t even know how she knew the right amount to give you. Any more would have been lethal! But… it’s been working, Prince Jiung.”

Jiung heard the words, understood their significance, but they felt distant.

Seojin turned back to the desk to finalize his recordings. When he turned back to ask another question, the bed was empty, the infirmary door left ajar.

Jiung moved through the castle, ignoring the surprised murmurs and respectful bows from the courtiers he passed. He didn’t know where he was going, but his feet carried him, driven by an instinct he had no control over.

An image—a memory—swam at the back of his mind.

He found himself at the clearing behind the castle, the familiarity of it sending shivers up his arms. He hadn’t been back there in a while.

He scanned the field, searching, until he found you. You were nestled deep in the greenery, almost buried by it, lying on your back. He would have thought you were sleeping if it wasn’t for your hand raking through the grass.

He made his way to you slowly, hovering above you when he reached your side. He wordlessly sank down onto the soft earth and watched you, waiting for you to open your eyes. Carefully, so as not to startle you, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek.

You exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. Your eyes clenched tighter, your brows drawing together with a crease, and a single tear leaked from the corner of your eye, tracing a slow path down your temple. He brushed it away with his thumb, his touch gentle.

Your eyes opened, blinking against the bright sun, and then found his. Your bottom lip began to quiver uncontrollably, seeing him alive before you. To reassure you that this was real, he whispered, “I’m okay.”

You choked out a chuckle and sniffled hard. “I knew you would be,” you said, the stubborn defiance in your voice undermined by the tears streaming down your face.

He smiled, broken and beautiful. “Then why are you crying?” His own vision blurred.

You hiccupped a breath. “Because I was scared.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, and pulled you up into his lap. He cradled your head against his shoulder, one hand stroking your hair. You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt to keep him from vanishing. Deep sobs wracked your body, cleansing the terror and desperation of the past few days. He held you through it all, letting you cry until the storm passed.

“Shh, I’m here.”

When you pulled back, sniffling and wiping clumsily at your cheeks, you leaned in to press a firm, desperate kiss to his lips. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to convey all that you wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “For lying to you.”

He chuckled weakly. “You have no reason to apologize.”

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have followed me,” you argued. “I know it was a reckless plan, but—”

He kissed you this time, his hand cupping your jaw, his thumb grazing the front of your throat. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “You saved me.”

You huffed, a familiar, affectionate sound. “Why do you still sound so surprised? I told you I would.”

His eyes softened. Because yes, you did. You were the only one. It was always you. It would always be you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice small.

“Because,” he said while leaning in and brushing his lips back against yours. “You are the greatest thing I’ve ever known.” He kissed you, lingering. “The smartest.” Another. “The bravest.” Another. “The—”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, locking your lips and pouring all your love into it. When you parted, you were both breathless.

“How did you know I was out here?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came. He couldn’t find any to properly explain how he’d seen you and him in that liminal space between life and death. And that his last thoughts had nothing to do with fear or pain. It was a memory, one of his happiest, that made him hold on. It was your hand leading him back. It. Was. You. It was always you.

It was too overwhelming a feeling to articulate, so he settled on, “Just a feeling.”

You didn’t question him.

“Do you want to lie down?” he asked softly.

You nodded, still dumbfounded by his presence, by the miracle of it all. He guided you both down onto the grass, keeping you tucked securely into his side.

Jiung took in a deep breath of the fresh air and let it fill his lungs. He drank in the warmth of the sun on his skin, felt the way it drew the blood to the surface of his skin to paint it in a healthy, vibrant flush. He felt the steady, strong beat of his heart in his chest as the blood coursed through it. And most of all, the thing that made him feel most alive, the weight of your head pressing against his arm.

He wondered why you, too, had come to this particular field. Was it the same reason he felt drawn to it? Was it the reminder of your youthful innocence, the place your love began? Or was it where you thought it would end, with him buried beneath the flowers, covered by a happy memory. He chose not to dwell on it. His future was certain, made true by your stubborn courage.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You sighed and snuggled closer to him.

Together, you lay in the flower field, watching the clouds cross the endless blue sky. You raised your chin just enough to press a kiss to his neck. His breath hitched, his cheeks flushed red, and he looked away, the butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach.

───────── ·✶· ─────────

The end. Thank you to everyone that read and interacted with the series, we love you all and I would love to hear your thoughts <3

READ ACT I HERE / SERIES MASTERLIST a collaborative event by @jiuchip & @liliesonthego

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