you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 7.5k
warnings (for this chapter): some historical inaccuracies but there is def precedent for what is happening here (i looked it up ok), mild angst and self doubt, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, pregnancy sex and slight lactation kink, oral (f receiving), mentions of injuries, bruises.
series masterlist
From its beginning to its end, the war lasted five months and twenty four days. In Seungcheol’s head, it is five months, twenty four days and twenty five nights, but he doubts anyone is counting as meticulously as he is. Maybe soldiers with wives who missed them every day felt the same and counted the same. To Seungcheol, you are just as precious as all those women to their men. He doesn’t think he is special, or that his love transcends all others’, but he is firmly confident that there is hardly anyone on this earth as worthy of fighting for as you.
But the fighting is over now, and he is on his way back.
His horse feels thrumming and alive under his thighs, the slide of strong muscle back and forth as it prattles on. He is towards the front of the formation, if they can still call it that. Everyone had relaxed slightly once they entered their own borders. Some men slowed, some sped up, impatient to get back. The caravans trudge on steadily behind him, and Seungcheol’s back screams. The day is still fresh, the afternoon sun still fairly high in the sky, and according to Seungcheol’s calculations, they would reach the castle before sundown. It would be best, since he doesn’t think Jeonghan can take another day of bumpy traveling. His mangled leg worries Seungcheol every day.
There are multiple reasons Seungcheol wants to keep going as fast as he possibly can. There are, of course, the injured, including his friend who nearly got his leg chopped off in the battle that ensured their key victory. Seokmin keeps saying Jeonghan is stable, and the leg is salvageable, but Seungcheol cannot remember the last time he saw so much blood come from just one person. Jeonghan is deathly pale as it is, and while Seungcheol likes teasing him about how sickly he looks even on his best days, he doesn’t like the idea of his friend getting worse.
Then, there’s the thought of you, waiting every day for his arrival back at the castle. Six months he has not seen you. Has not taken in the sight of your wide eyes, your pure, soft, unblemished skin, how heated your skin feels under his cold fingertips. Seungcheol thinks about it every night, near constant, hears your voice ring in his ears. He thinks he is starved, his heart withering until it feels dead and yellowed.
The closer Seungcheol gets to the capital, the more he sees how clean the streets are. Large banners hang along the sides, bearing war slogans, and as they progress, the crowd on either side gets thicker, the cheers getting louder. Seungcheol is tired, but he keeps a straight face. Many of the folks are crying, many wave their handkerchiefs at him. He feels his heart skip, his chest swell. This feels so foreign, but it brings a sense of closure he has not yet felt when it comes to the war.
To his right, he can see Joshua grinning ear to ear. He looks battered and tired, but his smile is brilliant and bright. Seungcheol wonders why he can’t muster his own, why he feels like he weighs so much, weight that comes not from his armor or the sword hanging on his waist, but something he can’t pinpoint.
When the castle towers enter his line of vision from afar, his heart leaps. He knows he shouldn’t push, but he cannot help it. He digs his heels into his horse slightly, urging a speed up. The men beside and behind him start matching his pace. Seungcheol wonders if they feel as desperate as him, but he discards the thought. He doubts it. His yearning transcends anything earthly in this moment.
He is sure the herald he sent ahead about his arrival has reached you, and castle preparations are in full swing. Things have been different since he was announced Heir Presumptive, a change he is still getting used to. He refuses to break some habits, like when his men asked him to ride in a carriage instead of leading the formation on his own stead. He declined, wanting eyes on his surroundings as they traveled. Unfortunately, war has left him jumpy and paranoid. He put Jeonghan in the carriage meant for himself, leg elevated, and instead climbed upon his horse, urging everyone forward. He also refused to return early without key members of his troop. These men had pledged allegiance to him in battle, and they had carried through. He would be damned if he left anyone behind. Besides, Mingyu reassured him that he had everything under control on the frontlines.
“You did everything you could in a war that wasn’t even yours to begin with.” The man had said as he bid farewell to Seungcheol’s platoon. “You need to return home and claim your rightful Throne.”
Seungcheol had huffed, still not accustomed to the idea. Mingyu only patted him hard on the shoulder.
“Hey,” he leaned close to talk in a low voice, “when you go back, you better make an honest woman out of my sister.”
Seungcheol blinked, mouth slightly ajar at the request. If Mingyu meant marrying you, then of course. Seungcheol wouldn’t want it any other way. He can do that now, as Jeonghan had extensively assured him. When he gave Mingyu a confused look, the man only gave back a sly smile.
“There’s a surprise waiting for you back home. Don’t worry about it.”
The words lingered in Seungcheol’s head throughout his journey, coming back time to time as he wondered what this surprise might be. He doesn’t think anything can be a bigger shock than him suddenly being a monarch of a large country, but at this point, he doesn’t put anything above the realm of possibility. So as the castle gates rise in his vision, his anticipation only grows.
Church bells sound as the troops draw near. Loud and booming, announcing their arrival. He can see the castle doors part. The cheers and cries grow louder. Seungcheol blinks against the dust in the air, and his eyes finally spot a familiar face past the gates. Standing tall, his spectacles hanging around his neck, Wonwoo smiles widely. He is like a sight for sore eyes, and Seungcheol feels relief loosen his stomach. It’s strange, seeing someone not covered in dirt and soot. But he is a welcome sight.
Seungcheol slows as he approaches the gates, wondering if he should dismount. He is still unfamiliar with how this works. He half wishes Jeonghan was by his shoulder to tell him what to do.
Right. Speaking of Jeonghan.
“Your Majesty,” Wonwoo greets. Seungcheol blinks as the man bows. He doesn’t speak, but he does not need to, because Wonwoo continues.
“In the name of this castle and all who dwell in it, I bid you welcome home. May your victory be long remembered, and your reign ever strengthened by it.”
Seungcheol’s throat tightens.
Wonwoo steps to the side and gestures at the party to move. Seungcheol follows his cue, trudging forward onto the cobblestone path that leads to the main hall. The large oak doors stand apart, the sprawling stairway leading up to it is crowded on both sides by castle clergy, noblemen and staff. Standing in the middle of the open doorway is a stationary figure, hands folded in front of a brilliant maroon dress.
Seungcheol breath hitches.
His horse stops a few feet before the first step. Wonwoo gestures, and Seungcheol dismounts. His hands are shaking on the reins, but he manages to keep his knees steady. His armor clinks.
Before Seungcheol can move forward, you are already descending the stairs. He spots Eunhee right behind you, lifting one side of the dress so you don’t trip. It’s grander than anything he has seen you wear, layers and layers of cloth despite how hot the weather is draped over your figure. Without thinking, he steps forward, ready to kneel to you as he always does. But before he can, you are mere feet away from him. He watches, jaw going slack as your knees lower, your waist bending as you bow.
He knows his first instinct. He wants to stop you immediately. You bowing before him is unacceptable, but he is hit with reality when all the noblemen and clergy follow right behind you. He is reminded, viscerally, that he is their new King. Your new King.
He doesn’t know how he feels about this.
When you rise, his throat knots, and he wants nothing more than to do the same, to show you his respect. When he looks at Wonwoo, he thinks the steward can read his mind. Very slightly, only so he can see, Wonwoo moves his head side to side.
He can’t kneel.
It’s a blur how Seungcheol is swept along with the procession to the Dining Hall. It is decked with bright gold and maroon drapings, celebratory banners and decoration meant for his arrival. He has just enough time to tell Wonwoo to send for help immediately for Jeonghan, and his heart eases a little when he looks back and sees Jeonghan’s carriage being led to the infirmary. He wishes he could stop all this and stay by his friend’s side instead. Or drop everything and go to you, but he can’t.
Being royalty is already annoying him. And that heavy weight on his chest hasn’t gone away.
The feast is grand. Seungcheol is pulled into conversation with castle clergy who he can already understand are buttering him up. The archbishop greets him jovially, and Seungcheol feels it is genuine, since he knows the man has always liked him and despised Seojoon. So he must be very happy. He reunites with familiar faces, uses any free time to ask Wonwoo about any injured he can think of, and if they are receiving care. You are seated too far from him for his liking, and briefly, Seungcheol recalls the days when he was still your Knight, which meant he was constantly by your side.
He misses you terribly.
The feast goes on for hours, with entertainment he cannot refuse. He knows the people are happy about the war ending. He doesn’t have the heart to stop them from celebrating. Eventually, he cannot take it anymore, and he turns to Wonwoo again, who stands by his shoulder.
“I’m tired and still covered in grime.” He mutters. “Any way I can be excused?”
Wonwoo laughs. “Excused? You are our King, Your Majesty. You leave any time you wish to.”
Seungcheol blinks. Right.
Wonwoo and some castle guards walk him into grand chambers he has never seen before. They mimic yours in layout and size, maybe even larger, but they feel cold and impersonal. At this point, he doesn’t care, dismissing staff and stripping so he can bathe. The hot water feels glorious on his tired muscles, but his bruises and cuts scream under it. He avoids wetting the bandage on his side, a still healing wound, but scrubs off any dirt on himself. He feels like he has lost pounds of weight by the time he is slipping on a simple tunic and trousers.
Wonwoo is waiting in an armchair in front of the fireplace when Seungcheol emerges from the bath. A chambermaid is serving steaming hot tea, and Seungcheol’s chest squeezes again.
“Where is Her Majesty? Still at the party?”
Wonwoo does not look surprised at the question. “She retired to her chambers before you did.”
Seungcheol frowns. “Who escorted her?”
Wonwoo chuckles a little. “Your Majesty, you do not have to worry about things like that anymore. You are not her knight. They are not your concern.”
Irritation plucks at him. He knows it’s not warranted. It’s not Wonwoo’s fault, but he wants to yell at the man. He grits his teeth hard until his jaw stings.
“I would rather have tea with her.” He instead bluntly states.
Wonwoo blinks and nods. “Of course. I will see to it that she arrives here shortly.”
“Don’t bother.” Seungcheol interrupts harshly. “I will go see her myself.”
Wonwoo stands, and the handmaid follows, a few paces behind him. “Your Majesty, you don’t need to go to her anymore. She will come to you-”
“No.” He can hear his anger in his own voice. He knows Wonwoo hears it too. “I will go. You can stay here. Or do whatever you want, I do not care.”
The steward looks like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing. Seungcheol ignores him, trudging right past the man to his chamber doors, tugging them open. He walks all the way across the castle to a path that feels like second nature to him. When he finally spots your door, he looks back at the two guards who have been scrambling to keep up with him since he left his chambers.
“You two, go.” He gestures. “You are done for the night.”
He can feel their hesitation, but they don’t dare refuse. Seungcheol gives the single guard at your door a pointed look. Something in his face must translate, because that man scrambles off as well, leaving him alone at your door.
For some reason, he can feel his nerves. Five months, twenty four days and twenty five nights.
The oak handles are a familiar weight under his hand. He pushes them open, and only when he steps inside does he realise he probably should have knocked. The thought is banished from his head when he spots you, sitting in your usual armchair. Eunhee sits next to a small table, preparing tea. You do not look up from the fireplace.
“You came.” You whisper. “I didn’t think you would.”
Your voice hits his ears, and Seungcheol feels like he has walked into a waterfall, hit by the falling waves, head underwater.
“I’m insulted that you believed I wouldn’t.” He manages to reply.
You turn your head then. When your eyes meet his, he feels a shock zip through his entire body, lighting it on fire.
“Eunhee.” He mumbles, not looking away from you. The maid stops her movements. “Go to your room. Soonyoung is anxious to see you.”
A small silence later, Eunhee merely nods and stands, slipping quietly past him. When he hears the door shut behind him, he finally moves.
He closes the distance between himself and where you sit, and immediately, like it calls for him, he drops to his knees before you. You gasp and sit up.
“Don’t do that!” Your voice is sharp. “You’re not-”
Your hands reach his shoulders to stop him. He abruptly catches them in his own. Your skin is deliciously soft against the rough callouses on his palms.
“Please.” He whispers. “Let me do this.”
You stare, and he stares back. Slowly, he bows his head, placing it gently on your left knee. You do not stop him. His hands stay holding yours, because he cannot bear to let go. The weight that plagued his shoulders lifts just slightly, and Seungcheol feels like his breath does not sting as much when he inhales.
“I’m supposed to be bowing to you.” You finally say. Your tone is amused. Seungcheol feels lighter by the second. He shakes his head just enough for you to feel it.
“Don’t do that ever again.” He mumbles, not lifting his head. “I almost killed myself.”
You laugh, the clear, pleasant sound floating into his head, scratching at it so good he can feel the wave of tears hit him. You detach your right hand from his, and seconds later, he feels the fingers card through his scalp. A shiver runs down his torso.
“It’s longer.” You comment. “No barbers on the frontlines?”
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, finally looking up at you. You look stunning up close, your skin bright and supple under the light from the fireplace. You look divine, and Seungcheol takes the sight in with hungry eyes. It seems you are doing the same.
“How has war made you even more handsome?” You tease. He laughs again. The weight is lifting, lifting, lifting.
He lets you continue to card your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp every now and then. Your fingers trace his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. His eyes flutter, lips part when you press your thumb to them. He stays kneeling, arms draped over your lap, letting you touch any part of him you can reach.
For the first time in months, he feels peace.
“Talk to me.” You hum. “You’re thinking. I can see it.”
Gently, you tap the space between his eyebrows. Seungcheol sighs.
“I’ve missed you so much. Every second of every day.”
Your face, already so soft, seems to relax even more. “Me too. I thought about you constantly.”
“As did I.”
You hum. “So why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
Seungcheol chuckles at the petulant tone in your voice. He sits up on his knees just a bit, enough to lean up so his lips will brush yours. He smells your sweet perfume, exactly how he left it, and the familiarity makes him surge forward, finally pressing his lips to yours.
He thinks he is drinking from the fountain of youth when he kisses you. Every nerve in his body lights up. Every muscle in his limbs loosens. For the first time in weeks, it’s like he cannot feel every injury on his skin throb and twinge. He loses himself in this feeling, in how soft you are, nothing like the rough, hard conditions he has been accustomed to for so long. You taste the same, the flavor that makes him heady, the one he is addicted to. He kisses you harder, moves his lips with almost feverish intensity, one hand reaching up to cup the back of your head, tugging you down a bit more. You whine so sweetly, his head spins.
“We have to be careful.” You mumble into his mouth.
“I locked the doors.” He replies, eyes rolling as his tongue brushes yours.
“No, not like that.” When you pull away, he almost groans, biting it back and trying not to sound like he’s dying. He can’t help his frown though, and you laugh.
“Don’t pout, Seungcheol.” His name from your lips makes his heart skip. “I have news.”
He huffs and finally sits back again in front of your legs. He makes sure to scowl so you can see he would rather do less talking, but you only giggle. You shift forward a little, standing up slowly.
“Help me undress?”
That he can do. He scrambles to stand up, gently turning you around so your back is to him. You are draped in various clothes. He removes the piece draped over your shoulders, a large cloak that goes all the way to your feet. Then, he undoes the knot at the back of your neck, brushing the cloth off your shoulders. He eyes the bare skin hungrily as it comes into view. He can’t help but lean forward, pressing his lips to your shoulder. He can hear you sigh.
Once the first layer of dress falls, Seungcheol eyes your back in confusion.
“No corset?”
You shake your head. “Haven’t worn one in months.”
Before he can ask why, you turn around. Seungcheol’s eyes shoot down. His jaw goes slack.
Silence fills your chambers. Firewood crackles. Seungcheol feels lightheaded, like the ground was snatched from under his feet. He stares and stares, but he feels like the voice has been stolen right from him. He can’t speak. His mind runs, scrambles.
“Are you upset with me?” You finally say, and the trepidation in your voice makes his stupor break immediately.
“What?” His eyes almost bulge from his head. “Why- why would I be upset with you? You’re-”
You’re carrying my child.
He doesn’t say it, because the gravity of the statement is almost too much to bear. Unconsciously, he reaches forward, brushes his hand over the large swell of your stomach. The skin is taut under your chemise, but you don’t move away. You let him feel, even though Seungcheol is not entirely sure what he is feeling. He releases a shaky breath, and a wave of tears washes over him once again.
“I didn’t think it possible that I could love you more than I already did.” He whispers. “Clearly, from what I’m feeling right now, I was wrong.”
He can see the unshed tears in your own eyes, and he reaches up to wipe under them just as they fall, catching the little droplets on the tips of his thumbs.
“I didn’t want to tell you in a letter.” Your voice is shaky. “I didn’t want it to be intercepted. No one knows except Eunhee. There are rumors but with everything else happening, people don’t really care about this anymore.”
“And you?” He presses. “You’re okay?”
You laugh quietly. “The beginning was very uncomfortable. But I’m okay now.”
Seungcheol feels a twinge of regret. “I should’ve been here.”
You shake your head. “You were fighting for us.”
Us. Seungcheol feels overwhelmed as another wave of emotions washes over him. He can’t help himself anymore, leaning forward and kissing you hard. You make a small, surprised noise, but kiss him back, matching his intensity. He feels your hands grip his arms and shoulders, squeezing and rubbing, feeling him. Your tongue meets his and he groans.
“Can- can we still….?” He can’t help himself. You nod enthusiastically.
“Just have to be a little careful.”
He moans again, nodding. He grips and squeezes your hips, admiring how the skin gives under his touch. You’re even more supple than before, and he wants to feel you without any cloth. He’s impatient, he can’t wait anymore. He has been pent up for so long, left only with the memory of how your body feels against his, how amazing it feels to slide into you.
He’s careful as he guides you back to your bed, pulling apart the silk drapings around it and laying you carefully on the mattress. He tugs off the last piece of clothing on your body, and Seungcheol thinks he might come right there.
Never before did he think he would find you so sexy like this, round with his baby in you, all curves and plump flesh. You’ve always been soft, skin pampered and taken care of your whole life, but now you glow with it, filled up in all the right places. Your chest has swollen, your hips are wider, your stomach so beautifully round, all the changes that make you look so….. his head spins with all the vulgar thoughts in them. His mouth waters. He wonders immediately if you taste different now. He wants to know so badly.
He lowers himself between your legs, spreads them to the sides carefully. Your chest is heaving and falling already, and he can see, even in the dim light, that you’re dripping.
“My love.” He coos. “Have you missed me?”
He can’t see your face, but he hears your trembling whimper. Music to his ears. He leans forward, swipes his tongue through the mess between your lower lips. He hums as the taste floods his mouth.
He was right. It’s different. He loves it.
He eats you out like he’s starved. And he is. He has dreamed of this, your juices on his tongue, his nose, suffocating him deliciously. He keeps your legs open the best that he can with his shoulders, one hand holding your left thigh, the other reaching up to brush over your bump. You sigh and moan, and the sound only spurs him on. He sucks hard at your little nub, flicking his tongue back and forth. The more time that goes on, the more desperate he is to make you get to your high. He wants to feel it, wants to bury his tongue deep into your walls and feel them convulse around it. You grant him his wish. And his chest squeezes when he realises you might be just as pent up as he is when you reach your high abnormally quickly, crying out as it hits you full force.
He sucks, licks and laps at you through it, carefully holding your hips down so you don’t jerk and twitch too much. He loves it when you writhe under him, your body succumbing to how he’s making you feel, but he wants to be extra careful. He knows you like it hard, but he doesn’t know how much you can take now.
He cleans you up after your release, licking all over you until you're nice and shiny with his spit. His cock is twitching and leaking desperately, and as he surfaces, licking his lips, he feels like he can no longer delay it. If he doesn’t get inside you immediately, he’s going to explode.
You seem to be on the same page. You’re flushed, panting, covered in sweat in that sexy way that makes him lightheaded, but you’re already tugging on his shirt, urging him to take it off. He obliges, following with his pants right after. He hears you gasp and stiffen, and he realises that he forgot he is covered in injuries.
“Seungcheol, my god.” You sit up, eyeing his unclothed skin. The cut on his shoulder is finally closed and well on its way to healing, but it looks particularly horrible, and he is marred with bruises and cuts all over. Your eye catches the large bandage on his side, and your face crumples.
“It’s okay.” Seungcheol rushes to reply, moving closer to you. He runs a hand over your arm soothingly. “I’m fine. Most of these are old and already half healed.”
“Are- are you sure?” Your voice is thin and trembling. He immediately nods.
“I promise. Have I ever lied to you before?”
You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. You are still eyeing him with apprehension.
“My dear.” He whispers. It catches your attention. “I’m more than okay. Especially now, with you right here, right under me. Let me have you, darling. Please.”
Your eyes cloud. You sigh when he runs his lips over your neck. Slowly, Seungcheol coaxes you to lie back again, settling between your legs. He runs his hand reverently up your thighs to the apex. He prods between them, finding your opening, but you catch his wrist before he can slip a finger in.
“Don’t need it.” You mumble. Seungcheol blinks.
“It’s been too long, my love. It will hurt-”
“Wanna feel it.” You whisper. Seungcheol eyes you, mouth dropped open at the heat in your eyes, the hunger in them. He feels his brain slowly shut off, clouded by the thick fog of lust settling over it. He shuffles forward, grips the base of his cock so he can run the head right through the mess between your legs. You whine in that way he finds so pretty, and he dips the tip just inside before pulling out. Your face crumples.
“Seungcheol, please.” Your hands fist the sheets on either side of your head. “Wanted you for so long. I’ve been so- so empty. I wanna be filled. Please don’t tease-”
You gasp when he slides in, your words lost as he carves his way through your walls. Seungcheol’s moan cracks, hand slamming into the mattress to hold himself up. You’re so tight, tighter than he has ever felt you. Hell, you’re tighter than the first time he had you. Yet, you’re wetter than the ocean, and he glides through the resistance like you’re welcoming him in, your walls hungry, squeezing and pressing so deliciously it makes his cock throb. Seungcheol’s entire body shakes. He groans and cums.
It encompasses him like a freefall. He feels nearly weightless with it, like you’re sucking it out of him. He chases it, thrusting weakly, not even pulling out properly, to try and prolong it. His vision swims, but he doesn’t care. You’re crying and moaning, a sound that is distant to his ears.
“Did- did you just….?” You gasp.
“I’m not done.” He grits out, pulling out all the way and slamming inside. You shriek. His orgasm ebbs, but his cock is still throbbing, hard as ever. He sits up, grips your hips tightly, and finally, he fucks you like he knows you deserve.
You’re a vision under him, laid out glowing with sweat and twisting, squirming on the bed. Your breasts, so full and plump, bounce with every thrust, and Seungcheol can’t help but reach up, gripping one tightly and squeezing. His thumb brushes your nipple and you cry out.
“Sensitive.” You manage to gasp. Seungcheol’s cock twitches where it rams inside you.
“Yeah?” He groans, leaning forward as much as he can. It’s enough to reach your chest, and he pops a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
“God.” You weep, hand reaching to wind into his hair and tug harshly. Seungcheol groans, suckles like he’s hungry for it, and his head spins when he thinks of how full your breasts must already be, waiting to feed his child. He thinks he has lost his mind, but he doesn’t really care. He pulls away enough to sink his teeth lightly into the meat of your breast. You whimper.
“You’re so sexy.” He groans. “The perfect woman. You’re radiant, my love. So good for me.”
The praise makes you moan, your back arching, and Seungcheol thinks he’s going to faint. He’s dizzy, he’s sweating, you look so delicious under him that he wishes he could lick over every inch of your body. Your cunt makes shameful noises, squelching as he slides through the cum he has already put inside you, aiding his movements. It drips from you, forms a white ring around your opening, coats his shaft. It’s so dirty, so filthy, but he loves it. This is like his wildest dreams and fantasies colliding all in one.
“Tell me how much you missed me.” He groans, leaning forward to plant his hands on either side of your head, eyeing your pretty, flushed face.
“M-missed you so much, Cheol.” The nickname makes his heart lurch. “Thought about this every night. Got- got so wet just thinking about it. Wanted to touch myself. But I couldn’t. Only you get to touch me down there.”
“Fuck.” This was a bad idea. You’re going to make him cum again, and he doesn’t want that yet. He wants to fuck you for hours and hours. All night, all day tomorrow, every single minute he missed while he was away.
“Putting a baby in you wasn’t enough?” He goads, voice rough as he thrusts. “You still wanted more? So greedy, my love. Can’t be satisfied unless you’re fucked every day, can you?”
Never in his wildest dreams did Seungcheol think he would ever speak to you this way. Maybe in his most depraved moments, hand wrapped around his cock, he has wondered about it, but he never thought he would ever let such words leave his lips. But he watches your eyes widen, filled with unshed tears, your lips part, and you squeeze around him so tightly he thinks he will suffocate. You nod feverishly, a sound leaving the very back of your throat, your nails clawing at the sheets.
“Need to be fucked every day.” You mumble.
Seungcheol groans. God, he loves this. Vocabulary that shouldn’t even be anywhere near a queen’s mouth, spewing from your lips like you crave his approval.
“I’ll give it to you.” He grits out. “Every day. Multiple times a day. As much as you need. You want my cock, I’m there.”
Your back arches abruptly, a cry releasing from your chest. You squeeze tight around him, and Seungcheol fucks you through your orgasm. You pulse and squeeze his cock like your walls are alive, and it takes everything in Seungcheol’s power to not dump another load of his seed inside you. He pushes through until your high ebbs, slowing to a stop before carefully pulling out.
“I’m not done with you.” He whispers into your cheek, turning you so you’re lying on your side, settling behind you so he can slide inside you again.
……………………………………
The days following Seungcheol’s return are wildly eventful.
The castle moves in two distinct tones. On the outside, it presents the state of grief and mourning, as everyone practices silence to show respect for the late King. It is important, both Jeonghan and Wonwoo emphasize this repeatedly, that you appear as muted as you possibly can. This proves particularly difficult for you since you are so deliriously happy about Seungcheol’s return. While you are trained in maintaining appearances, you realise there are some emotions that even you cannot tamp down.
Seungcheol finds the whole situation hilarious.
“I think it’s cute.” He comments as he watches Eunhee lace you up in a deep violet gown. You’ve been wearing exclusively dark colors since the period of mourning was announced, as the new Queen Dowager.
“Pray tell, how is any of this cute?” You mumble, already cranky even though the morning has just begun.
“You being so happy that no matter how hard you try, you can’t pretend otherwise.” He grins. You roll your eyes, but your face still heats. You can see Eunhee fighting a smile.
“You’re one to talk, Your Majesty.” You shoot back. “Soonyoung told me you and Jeonghan stayed up very late last night drinking the hours away.”
Seungcheol balks. “Soonyoung told you?”
“Well, he told Eunhee.”
Seungcheol’s eyes meet the handmaid’s. She has the decency to look sheepish.
“I can’t keep secrets for her, Your Majesty.” She explains. “She’s still upset with me that I didn’t immediately share your mother’s letter with her.”
You sniffle. “As I should be. Your loyalty should lie with me only, Eunhee.”
Your cheeks flame again. You reach for the hairbrush Eunhee just used, chucking it in Seungcheol’s general direction. It misses him by a whole two feet. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Looks like we’ve found something you’re bad at.” He teases. You have nothing else to throw, so you just glare. But there’s no heat behind it. Eunhee is trying not to laugh.
Things have changed between you and Seungcheol since his return. Some barrier has broken, you don’t know what exactly, but he feels like a long lost companion that you finally got back. His change in status worried him initially, and he missed being your knight, but he realised quickly enough that being your husband meant he had access to parts of you he didn’t have previously. Like these harmless moments of teasing and bickering. War has sharpened you too, in the time that he was away. You’re quicker now, wittier, and you don’t take little things to heart as much as you used to. You’ve grown thicker skin, which Seungcheol has always rooted for, and it has made you “spicier”. That’s the word he uses, quite proudly in fact, and you feel a certain sense of accomplishment in it as well.
When Wonwoo shows up to go through the tasks for the day, he is not alone. Jeonghan is right behind him, and you are pleasantly surprised to see him in your chambers.
“Nice to see that you’re out and about.” You comment, eyeing the cane he leans heavily on as he makes his way to your sofa. “How is the leg doing?”
“Getting better every day.” Jeonghan replies jovially. He gives Seungcheol a pat on the shoulder, and Eunhee quickly rushes to prepare tea for everyone. Wonwoo, focused as always, launches into your schedule.
While the mourning period is in full swing, castle staff is busy preparing for the next big event, which is Seungcheol’s coronation. Jeonghan was adamant that it needed to be rushed along as quickly as possible. Until that crown is on Seungcheol’s head, the throne remains threatened. You wholeheartedly agree, since you know it would be easy for castle clergy to stage a coup, despite Church interference. Seungcheol has been busy meeting with the commonfolk, his schedule packed and everything designed to make sure his transition to the Throne is as seamless as possible. Jeonghan is dictating his time with an iron fist, so mornings and evenings are the only time you actually see him. You don’t mind. You’ve lived without him for so long that just knowing he is around is enough to set your mind at ease. And you know how important everything he is doing is.
The coronation looms ever nearer, and with that milestone fast approaching, Seungcheol had sat Wonwoo down, revealing to him his intentions, in that after his coronation, he wants to marry you.
To say Wonwoo was shocked was an understatement. He had taken a long moment of silence, just staring at the distance as he processed. You worried you had broken his brain, but soon enough he started planning, as he always does. As your personal steward, your best interests are his greatest priority. And he has made it clear that he is very much on board with you maintaining your status as a reigning queen.
“It is controversial, of course.” He had mumbled after he sat with the information for a whole day. “A previous Knight, your Knight to be exact, now taking you as his wife. People will talk. But you are no stranger to controversy. I’m sure things will settle soon enough. War has a way of making people more flexible to change. Plus, you have a good enough rapport now to pull this off, in my opinion.”
The compliment seems backhanded but you take it, just happy that Wonwoo is on board.
The upcoming coronation in this context becomes more political than you ever thought. Both Jeonghan and Wonwoo believe that your position during the ceremony will define how things will move forward between you and Seungcheol. So, on the day of, you are placed at the very front, surrounded by your staff, still in colors of mourning, but placed prominently enough that it plants a seed in people’s heads. It’s not a direct statement, but it’s almost like the first glimpse.
Seungcheol looks grand.
You saw his attire for the coronation beforehand. You even approved a lot of the changes, but seeing it on him, the fabric filled up by his stature, feels entirely different. He stands tall, broad shouldered and confident, an air around him that demands respect and screams authority. He is studded with all his accomplishments as a Knight, medals that gleam along with the pieces of armor he has also dawned. Arm guards and some chest plates. It’s more symbolic than anything. Jeonghan wants to establish Seungcheol’s transition very prominently from war hero to reigning king, as it solidifies his stance. Both you and Seungcheol trust him completely. And as Seungcheol walks down the cathedral towards the archbishop, the image truly is powerful. You feel a shiver run down your spine, eyeing the strong cut of his jaw, the straight lines of his profile as he walks up to the podium.
You cannot believe you are lucky enough to have him. All of him.
You watch Seungcheol lower his head, and the archbishop smear a small amount of holy oil on the crown of his head. Seungcheol’s sword hangs prominently at his waist, clinking just slightly as he kneels. The Royal Crown is placed on his head. And finally, he stands.
It’s done.
The finality of the moment is overwhelming. With all the noblemen, the clergy, important political families and many members of Seungcheol’s platoon present, Seungcheol takes oath. The air shifts with it, almost like it’s clearing, a new chapter beginning. You close your eyes briefly, keeping your face as neutral as possible, knowing eyes are on you. You fought for this, for Seungcheol’s position, with everything in you. Those closest to you, Wonwoo, Eunhee, saw your struggle. You feel that, for the first time in your life, you have asserted yourself as an integral part of history. You have changed the course of this whole nation, absolutely for the better. Your contributions are life altering, and your presence does not feel secondary anymore.
If only your mother could see you now.
The feast arranged afterwards is grand, but tinged with an air of sobriety. Of course, Seungcheol’s appointment post-war and in lieu of an old King dying in said war means that there can be no hearty celebration. It’s fine, since you know Seungcheol really doesn’t like over the top and gaudy festivities. The meal is rife with conversation but nothing inappropriate. Mingyu is there, a show of his allegiance, and he sits beside you for dinner. You had revealed your predicament to him just last night, and even now he is buzzing with the excitement of a nephew or niece, despite your many attempts to get him to settle. His energy is contagious, and you find your own excitement growing too.
As the feast wraps up, Seungcheol has meetings set with the Council, so he leaves. You are more than happy to retire to your chambers and put your feet up. You grow tired easily these days, and any energy you have left, you would like to reserve for when Seungcheol comes to see you after the sun goes down. You know he might be very late today, given how busy he is, so you let Eunhee change you out of your heavy dress, slipping into your night clothes and easing onto the bed, sighing in relief.
You don’t even remember when you knock out. You are roused from sleep by the feeling of hands lingering on your waist, traveling forward to run affectionately over your protruding stomach. You sigh at the warmth on your back, relaxing into Seungcheol’s arms.
“Missed you.” You mumble.
“I know.” He lays a soft kiss on your shoulder. “It’s very late, my love. Sleep.”
You make a noise of complaint and shift, turning towards him. “No. Missed you.”
When you kiss him, it’s clear what you want. You tug at his shoulders, trying to pull him ever closer. You can feel his lips twist up against yours, a light chuckle leaving his mouth.
“Now?” He asks, but he is already pushing your nightdress up to your hips. “You’re insatiable.”
You hum, not denying it. There’s no point to it. You need him, the image of him at his coronation still lingering in your head.
“It’s your fault.” You mumble into his lips. His fingers find your heat, and he groans at how wet you already are. “You looked so handsome with a crown on your head.”
That gets a loud laugh out of him as he positions you both so you are more comfortable. Some more shuffling and you finally feel him prod at your entrance.
“Were you really thinking dirty thoughts in a cathedral, darling?” He hums, pushing inside. You sigh in relief as he slowly fills you up. “Shameful behavior. What would our archbishop say?”
You don’t even bother answering, because he’s already moving, angled just perfectly the way you want him. Your brain empties out as it always does when he’s with you like this, nothing but pure pleasure simmering under your skin. You’re still half asleep, and that somehow makes everything feel more intense. Seungcheol caresses every part of you he can reach as he gives you exactly what you want.
“Can’t wait to marry you.” He rasps. “Finally, you’ll be mine.”
“‘M already yours.” You reply, back arching as your high builds.
“Mine for the world to see.” He corrects. “Everyone who will look at you will know you belong to me. And after you have my child-”
He groans, speeds up. You’re almost there.
“I’m just gonna put another one in you.”
You cry out as you cum, shaking through it, feeling your insides warm as Seungcheol paints your walls. His voice cracks, trembles. He sighs as you both come down. And finally, he pulls out.
He doesn’t let your body get cold for even a second, enveloping you in his arms and laying kisses to any patch of skin he can find. You bask in his embrace, satisfied, head heavy with the need to sleep. Everything fades into a pinpoint, a place where only you and Seungcheol exist. Through it all, that’s really the only thing that matters.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 7.8k
warnings (for this chapter): war, fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, character death, some angst, mention of politics and the church, there is some historical inaccuracy but I did a lot of research and this has all happened in various monarchies previously lol, mentions of pregnancy.
a/n: this is NOT the last chapter! I’ve added one more to resolve the story and plot points, since squeezing it all into one was not working. So there will be six chaps total, followed by an epilogue!
series masterlist
When the sun rises over the distant mountains, Seungcheol watches the dark sky slowly lighten to a dim blue. He feels the breeze cool the sweat on his temples, nipping enough to be felt even below the sweltering plates of his armor. His hair blows, catching slightly on his eyelashes. He blinks to flick the strands away.
He can hear the crunching of the soil and rocks behind him, footsteps getting closer and coming to a halt right next to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the sky. He doesn’t know when it will be this clear again, because he is prepared to watch it fill with dust, fire and smoke.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He finally breaks the silence of the quiet morning.
Beside him, Jeonghan shifts. His armor is looser, so it clinks more precariously. Seungcheol makes a mental note to tighten it for him later. Jeonghan is not trained in combat, but he can hold his own very well as a defensive fighter. Seungcheol has all the faith in the world for him.
“And leave you alone for the final battle of our lives?” His friend scoffs.
Seungcheol’s mouth twitches. Finally, he turns his head to look at the man. Jeonghan watches the distant mountains just like him.
“It’s strange.” Seungcheol mumbles. “When I left the castle, I was sure I would make it back. I was confident, maybe even arrogant, in my own skill.”
Jeonghan sighs. The wind blows through his long hair, ruffling it. “This is not a question of your skill, though.”
His friend doesn't reply. Seungcheol watches the dark blue of the sky lighten some more. The stars are slowly disappearing.
“I wish I could see her just one more time.” He confesses in a whisper.
Jeonghan shifts from one foot to another.
“Seungcheol-ah.” He says in a casual, soft tone he has not used since the two men were teenagers. The familiarity of it squeezes Seungcheol’s heart. It makes his head turn. “I have something to tell you.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, waiting for his friend to continue. Somehow, this feels important.
“I talked to some people a few years ago.” He begins. “Just before I became advisor to the Crown Prince. I had questions, and I wanted answers before I accepted the appointment.”
Seungcheol stays silent.
“One of those people was Kwon Eunhee’s mother, my mother’s handmaid.” Jeonghan states. “She had connections, you know? People trusted her, especially that older generation of women. She was often there at the parlor parties. They drank a lot, turned loose-lipped. She knew a lot of things. For example, she knew why your mother left the castle.”
Seungcheol scowls. “She fell ill. She could no longer serve the Queen.”
Jeonghan sighs, and finally, he meets his friend’s eyes.
“She wasn’t ill, Seungcheol-ah. She was pregnant. With you.”
Seungcheol barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “She was not. She met my father after she left the castle.”
Jeonghan sighs, nodding. “I know that’s what she told you.”
Something gnaws at Seungcheol’s chest, like a twinge of irritation. “You think her untruthful?”
“I place no blame on her, but rather her circumstances.” Jeonghan immediately replies. “She did what she had to do for her survival, and yours. The Queen would not have let her stay, no matter what. All I know is that she was pregnant when she left, and your father- your biological one….”
Seungcheol watches his friend, comprehension slowly dawning on him like ink dropped in cold water. Slowly spreading, near torturous in its pace. He shakes his head, trying to stop it in its tracks, but the black encompasses everything, and before he knows it, Jeonghan’s meaning is laid out in front of him. Clear language that he cannot deny.
“No.” He manages to choke out.
Jeonghan looks tired, and in the early morning light, the bags under his eyes are prominent. He turns to the sky with a bleary gaze, eyelids fluttering shut like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“There will be no solid proof until the Queen Dowager herself confirms it.” He mumbles. “Which I doubt she will. But I got my hands on something before I left the castle. I left it with Kwon Eunhee, to be delivered to Her Majesty should you not return from this war.”
“What did you leave?” Seungcheol cannot recognise his own voice. Hollow and far away, like it is coming not from his own throat.
“A letter. Addressed to the Late King. I found it in his chambers after his death. Thankfully, no one got their hands on it before me. Or I cannot imagine the consequences.” Jeonghan shrugs. “It is from your late mother.”
Seungcheol watches the sky, the earth, but his gaze is unseeing. His mind reels, spins, and he wonders if he has still not woken. He has heard stories of his mother’s time in the castle his entire childhood. Is it true that she left out such a huge piece of them? If this is a sick dream, he should be roused from his sleep shortly, and he can put all this behind him as some wild imagination of his exhausted mind.
“She doesn’t know.” He says, referring to you. Jeonghan shakes his head.
“She has suspicions.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps up, shocked. Jeonghan takes one look at his face and decides to elaborate.
“The Queen Dowager said something to her about it.” He states. “Convoluted and not direct, but the meaning was clear enough. It’s the entire reason I thought to leave the letter to her. I had no intention of revealing this information had I not seen how distressed the mere notion of it left her.”
Distressed. Seungcheol’s heart squeezes. Has his newfound parentage left a negative impression in your mind? Will you speak to him again, look at him the same? Will he ever get the chance to explain himself to you, insist that he did not know?
Jeonghan seems to read his mind. He smiles a little, and there is placation in it.
“She is aware that none of this is in your knowledge.” He clarifies the doubt newly blooming in Seungcheol’s brain. “I made sure of that.”
It does little to settle Seungcheol’s worries. Briefly, he marvels at the fact that his first priority is still you, even though it feels like his very identity has been pulled out from under his feet. He is not surprised however, because his entire life’s purpose revolves around you. He breathes for you, bleeds for you, fights for you. It does not matter if he is under your bed covers, or thousands of miles away, standing along the border he must attack in a few hours’ time. And it does not matter whose blood runs through his veins. Jeonghan watches him, an apologetic look on his face.
“I had to tell you.” He whispers. “I could not die with this.”
When Seungcheol takes a deep breath, it is shaky and chopped. He reaches out and places a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder, the metal of his armor sturdy under the touch. Neither of them says anything, and Seungcheol decides he cannot think about this now. He is grateful to know, but he needs to focus. His life, his men’s, and his country’s future all hang in the balance. As the tents around them shuffle, whispers and sleep-laden voices rising, he just gives Jeonghan one final look. His friend smiles back.
It’s time.
………………………………….
When Eunhee shakes you awake, you are almost braced for bad news. Every night since the war began, you have slept with the fear of being woken up with sudden news from the border. Every muscle pulled taut in dreadful anticipation. Often, you cannot even manage to sleep, tossing and turning, uncomfortable, half because you are scared and paranoid, and half because of how heavy your hips feel now, lower back aching almost constantly these last few weeks.
“A royal messenger.” Your handmaid says. “He is waiting in your parlor.”
You are barely able to blink the sleep out of your eyes. Eunhee is scrambling to get your cloak on you. You know your stomach is now big enough to show a bit, so you wrap yourself carefully with the heavy velvet. Four months in, and your swelling figure means you have to be careful. Four months in, and you’re still contemplating on what to do to reveal your predicament.
It is not a concern at this very moment, though.
The royal messenger in question is covered head to toe in mud, and stands between two guards. He is wringing his hands, and his face is lined with exhaustion. You wonder fleetingly if he has slept at all in the last few days, or if he rode continuously to get to the castle. He bows deeply when you enter, Eunhee at your heels. You give the man a questioning look, imploring him to speak.
“Your Grace.” His voice is hoarse. It trembles. “I bear grievous tidings.”
You swallow tightly, dread shooting through you immediately. You steel your knees, willing them not to give out. Your mind is a mantra of Seungcheol’s name. You don’t dare speak it.
“His Majesty fell upon the field, fighting bravely against the enemy.”
Behind you, Eunhee gasps. The two guards stiffen, their faces betraying their shock. You feel bile rise to your throat, a familiar feeling as of recent, and you grip your cloak tightly. For a few seconds, no one makes a sound.
“I need to sit.” You choke out.
Quickly, Eunhee moves you towards a sofa in the center of the room. The royal messenger stands unsurely before you, silent. You have innumerable questions, but before you can ask any of them, you need to prepare.
“You.” You point to the guard closest to you. He straightens immediately. “Go awaken Lord Jeon.”
He nods and scampers out immediately. You gesture at the tired messenger, making him sit on the chair opposite to you. No one speaks for a good while. Silence hands heavy in the room. You let the news wash over you, and part of you feels disconnected from your own body.
Seojoon is dead.
You don’t know how to feel, truly. Despite everything, he was still your husband. Your standing within these four walls was connected explicitly to him. The implications of this on you, on this castle, on the entire monarchy, are heinous.
Soon enough, the heavy doors open again, and your steward walks in, face pinched in alarm and concern when he spots you and the man. His eyelids are heavy, swollen, and his clothes ruffled. You know he got here as hastily as he could.
“Wonwoo.” You mumble. “Record everything.”
He nods silently, placing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he shuffles to your writing desk in the corner of the room. Once he is seated, you turn back to the man bearing the news.
“Explain.” You grit. “Because the last letter I received from my brother, the King, explained that the tides were running in our favor.”
The messenger looks uncomfortable with the question, like he didn’t expect you to ask it. You are sure he didn’t, and that he was anticipating a lot of crying, tears, maybe even hysteria, and you being slowly escorted out of the room. But circumstances have changed. While not fighting, war has changed you too. You are the only person in this castle holding everyone and everything together. And now, with Seojoon’s death, there is no one of the Royal bloodline left. There is the possibility of your child being the continuation of said bloodline. But none of them know you are with child, and even then, your suspicion on the child being of Royal blood is flimsy. As far as everyone is aware, the Crown will fall unless you step up.
But you can’t. You are a foreign Queen, previously controversial. No matter how drastically your image has been rehabilitated, you are unsure commonfolk and castle nobility will accept you. Bloodlines are sacred, and you are not credible unless you are either of the bloodline, or you carry it.
Any step you take from here onward has to be very, very careful. When your eyes meet your steward’s from across the room, you know he understands this just as much as you do.
The messenger explains the surprise attack planned for one week ago, as ordered by the King. He talks of the consequences of it, the many casualties. You wait, fingers clenched, for Seungcheol’s name to come up. Or Jeonghan’s, any name you might recognise. Any indication that they are still alive. But confusion gnaws at you, and you try to make sense of the events that transpired, try to connect them with the letter you recently received from your brother up north. You are certain Seungcheol is not stupid enough to do something like this.
“I don’t understand.” You interrupt. The messenger immediately goes silent. “Why not wait for Mingyu? Or hold off until they had more resources? What was the reason to launch an attack like this?”
The messenger hesitates. You recognise the expression immediately as the one your staff use when they are holding their tongues out of respect. You don’t stand for it, since it often means they withhold valuable information or opinions.
“Out with it.” You snap. He flinches a little at your tone.
“There was opposition to His Majesty’s plan.” His voice trembles. “His generals and advisor were against it. The Garrison Commander disagreed with it vehemently as well.”
Your breath hitches. “And?”
The messenger sighs, and you notice just how weary he looks. You wonder how much bloodshed he witnessed with his own eyes. “His Majesty insisted.”
Something in his tone contains repressed bitterness. You know for a fact that Seojoon is hard headed and stupid enough to insist on a suicidal plan like this, and your heart goes out to every soldier made to carry it out who then lost their lives. You cannot imagine what the pain of the survivors can be. Once again, you curse Seojoon. He might have died, a fitting retribution for him, but in your eyes, he took many innocents with him as well. You doubt his people will ever forgive him, even in death.
You think carefully before speaking again. “Have we lost the border?”
That makes him lighten a little. “Thankfully, no. Sir Choi was able to secure the encampment shortly after. We are at a standstill, but His Majesty Kim’s army will be joining ours in a few days. I am not aware of the plan, but I can guess it will be their last big push.”
You feel relief wash over you like a bucket of cold water. Seungcheol is alive. He survived the horrific attack events, and was planning to retaliate after meeting up with Mingyu’s troops. If they succeed, he could be coming home soon.
Wonwoo helps draft a message for the man to carry into the castle courtyard to be delivered. You instruct him to do it with tact and leave out the gruesome details of the King’s fall. While you are sure word of mouth from the soldiers will soon spread, you are smart enough to know it cannot be part of the official statement. You will not take any negative blame for ruining Seojoon’s already bleak reputation. He will do that all on his own, even as a dead man.
You gather staff quickly afterward, the sleeping castle slowly waking when solemn church bells start sounding, slow and deliberate. Drapes around the castle are quickly replaced with black ones by maids and runners. Your own clothes, heavy black velvet, signal your mourning. Only you and Eunhee know that there is no real grief in your heart. But you are not as foolish as your late husband. You will not put on a disrespectful display as he did when his father passed. You are cleverer than that. You know how to play the role.
Thankfully, heavy black clothes means it is easier to hide your growing belly. Eunhee is particularly happy about this, as it makes her job infinitely easier. You forewent corsets a while ago, unable to bear them on your body any longer, and this new attire works in your favor.
Court is solemn, but brimmed with a feeling of distilled panic. Noblemen, all elders that were unable to fight in the war, as well as the many, many women, have one question in their mind only, you know this. The royal bloodline has perished. The Crown will fall, and there is no one left to bear it. You long to shout at the top of your lungs that the royal bloodline might not have ended after all, but you have no proof. You have nothing but the Queen Mother’s flimsy, cryptic jab. She refused to give you anything more. As you watch the unrest around you, the anxiety within the Church, you know what you must do.
You need confirmation.
You find the Queen Mother in her chambers that very night, not even a full day after hearing of your husband’s demise.
Her handmaids are shocked that you are here at this hour, with no prior notice and no request for an audience. But in every sense, you rank higher than your mother in law, so they cannot stop you even if they try. You find the woman in a cushioned, rocking chair in front of her fireplace, with a cup of tea that smells suspicious enough for you to conclude that it has alcohol inside.
“Queen Mother,” you greet. “I come with a request.”
She looks at you carefully, and for a long time. She does not offer for you to sit, but you take it regardless, seating yourself on the sofa to her left. You glance at the handmaids and dismiss them, telling them to wait outside with Eunhee. The woman continues to stare at you, her teaspoon swirling slowly in her cup, clinking when it hits the walls of it. It is the only sound in the room.
“You said I would bear an heir for this throne.” You cut straight to the point. “‘In any case’, you said. I need to know what you meant by that.”
She does not seem remotely surprised at your sharp tone, your lack of formality or manners. It’s almost like she expects it, like she would be more taken aback if you presented as meek and hesitant.
“So my ladies-in-waiting are right.” She hums. The teaspoon is still moving. Tight, tiny circles. “You are with child.”
You shrug. “They have no proof.”
She watches you again, and you can see her eyes shoot down to your stomach. Heavy drapings hide your figure. You know she is fishing for scraps. Scraps you will not give. You know better than that by now.
“His mother was my husband’s mistress.” She sniffles, eyes finally leaving yours and focusing on the fire dancing along the wall. You stiffen as she begins her story. “Young thing, she was. Dark hair. My husband liked that type.”
You try not to make a face at the implication.
“She found out about her child mere months after I found out about Seojoon.” The woman continues. Shockingly, you sense no grief in her voice. In the last year, it is true that she has made her disdain for her son clear, but you never expected her to be apathetic to the fact of his death. She was absent from Court too, but you are aware she is more of a recluse now.
“I would have sooner sliced a limb off than watched her birth my husband a child.” The Queen Mother’s tone hardens with indignation. “An illegitimate one at that, and so soon after Seojoon’s birth. So I gave her a choice. She leaves the castle, and I would guarantee a comfortable living for her for the rest of her measly life.”
You swallow tightly.
“But then came the news that she bore a son.” Your mother in law almost spits, her face twisting in a nasty expression. “And my husband wanted them brought back. Of course, I would never let that happen. So I compromised, because I have done that my whole life. He would be raised inside the castle, as a mere soldier, and he would serve the Crown, his true purpose. No one would take the glory, or the Throne, from my flesh and blood. I wouldn’t let him.”
“But he became a Knight.” You interject. “He gained power beyond just a soldier. You let that happen?”
She sets her cup down, not having taken a single sip.
“You think I had any say?” She whispers. You realise this is the first time you have ever heard her sound so frail, so resigned. The face, wrinkled with age, looks sadder and sadder the more you watch it. “There is only so far a woman’s power goes, even the one who bore an Heir. Especially if her own husband treats her like a fly he must swat away.”
You don’t say anything. You stare into the fire just as she does, watching the flames rise and fall, squirming and dancing over the wood. It crackles occasionally, volatile, alive. You sit for a long time. Your mother in law does not ask you to leave. You cannot remember the last time you spent more than a few minutes in her company, especially not alone.
“Tomorrow,” you finally break the silence, “you will attend Court. You will speak to the Church officials, especially the archbishop, and you will let them know that the royal bloodline still lives.”
The Queen Mother’s eyes flicker. She opens her mouth, but you don’t let her speak.
“You say you had no power.” You continue. “And you were right. For a long time, you didn’t. But tomorrow, you can decide the fate of this Crown, and of this entire nation. There is no other evidence. Your word, in a situation like this, in a Court where everyone is desperate for leadership, holds more power than even the law.”
As you stand, the Queen Mother does not move a single muscle.
“You can do with this power what you will. But I would hope that for once in your life, you will make the correct decision.”
You leave her by the fireplace, her tea cup still full on the table next to her, still smelling strongly, but unconsumed.
……………………………….
It takes a long time for the dust to settle, but some still lingers in the air, like a permanent companion to the oxygen needed by Seungcheol’s lungs. He breathes it in with every inhale. A week ago, when the dust rose for the first time with their attack, it stung his throat when he sucked it in. But now, he thinks his body has grown accustomed to the gritty feeling of it.
Along with the dust, something else hangs in the air. Something tense and tight, like anticipation tinged with dread. The metallic smell of blood was heavy for days, but it is slowly fading. The muscles of every soldier in the field are just as tense as this feeling that lingers between them. Seungcheol knows everyone is on edge. But for once, he has no intention of calming them down. They do not need calm right now, they need to remain alert.
He tells Jeonghan as much, and his friend just sighs tiredly. He does not disagree, because he knows letting their guard down would mean weakness. Their enemies are camped a mere few kilometers away from them, settled there after the bloodshed they caused and after Seungcheol painstakingly secured their camps again. Seungcheol can see them over the horizon. Which means they can see him and his men. Another battle is imminent, and they need to hold out for as long as they can. Mingyu is still a few days out. They cannot afford more casualties.
Everyone is still reeling.
Seungcheol walks the line, watches his men scamper around the perimeter they have secured. His right side twinges with every step he takes, pain shooting up his torso. He ignores it, eyes trained carefully on every weapon, every position. The first shift of the night is ready to guard. He talks to a few of his lieutenants, ensures the guard change six hours later will be as smooth as possible.
“Everything is planned out, Commander.” One of them reassures him. “Please rest.”
But Seungcheol cannot rest, even if he tries. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours since the attack. The rest of the time he spends leaning over the map laid on the table in his tent, trying over and over again to spot any gap in his defenses he can correct.
There is none, Jeonghan says, but he can never be too careful.
When the pain of walking becomes too much, Seungcheol knows he must lie down. He does not want his men to see him flinch, and so he bids them luck for the upcoming night. He doesn’t exhale until he has pushed into his encampment. Only then, does he let the shaky breath rattle through his chest, face crumpling.
“Should I call the medic?” Jeonghan voices from where he is lying on his blanket. Seungcheol shakes his head, loosening the metal plates over his waist.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.”
He just huffs and stumbles to his own sleeping bag. He doesn’t flop down on it, lowering himself carefully. The armor digs painfully into his skin. He doesn’t dare take it off. He can hear Jeonghan huff and shift, puttering out of the tent. He has no energy to protest. He just closes his eyes.
For the first time in many months of war, Seungcheol feels like his morale is not where it should be.
As much as he despised his late King and how dispensable that man was for this war, he knows what a monarch means in times like this. The King was less of a man and more of a symbol. His demise has done irreparable damage to the spirits of his troops. He knows what they are all thinking; what are we fighting for? Who are we laying our lives down for?
Some part of Seungcheol hopes that this doubt will be eased slightly when Mingyu arrives. While not their king, Mingyu is still of royal blood, and a good leader. The soldiers recognise him as someone to follow, and that might boost them a little. They need that desperately, because right now, there is nothing but fear and uncertainty. As it goes, Seungcheol knows he is the only reason any of them have not surrendered right now. They respect him too much.
Jeonghan returns with the medic in tow, a tall, battle hardened man who goes by the name of Seokmin. Unfortunately, Seungcheol has become intimately familiar with him, since his wound is one of the worse ones between the survivors.
“Hurts again?” Seokmin gives him a soft smile. Seungcheol only nods. His entire side is throbbing, and he can’t speak because he fears his voice will break.
“Let’s take a look.”
Jeonghan helps Seokmin take the plates of his armor off and lift his shirt. Despite his stature, Seokmin has soft hands, those of a medic, and he is careful as he peels away the bandage holding steadfastly to the long, slashing wound on Seungcheol’s side. Seungcheol tries to breathe deep as the air stings it. Seokmin’s face is blank, but Jeonghan’s grimace gives everything away.
“It’s not healing properly.” He mumbles.
Jeonghan scoffs. “Of course it’s not. He doesn’t tend to it at all. Doesn’t clean it. Doesn’t get it regularly bandaged.”
“We can’t waste resources.” Seungcheol mumbles, but there is no fight in his voice. He feels something wet hit the wound. Seokmin starts tidying the area.
“You’re not a martyr.” Jeonghan snaps. “You’re the only thing keeping these men standing.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth and doesn’t reply. The only sound in the tent is Seokmin working on his wound, and Jeonghan’s occasional huffs of frustration. Seungcheol cannot remember the last time his friend was so on edge. Jeonghan has always been level headed and calm, one step ahead of everyone around him. War can change even the most reliable of people.
Seungcheol is adamant he will not change. He promised you he would come back. He will be damned if he returns to you a different man.
When Seokmin leaves, Jeonghan extinguishes the lantern in their room. Seungcheol stares straight up, unseeing in the pitch darkness. The moon is high in the sky above, so a very dim light illuminates them both. Jeonghan has his back to him, but Seungcheol can tell his breaths are uneven. He isn’t asleep yet.
On sleepless nights like these, Seungcheol often wonders about you. He knows the news of the King’s demise has reached the castle by now. In fact, the messenger he sent might be on his way back with a response soon, a plan of action. He wonders what your reaction was, how you dealt with the news. He knows you enough to know that emotionally, it means nearly nothing to you, but the political implications of it must be intense. There is no ruling King right now. The Crown is in danger. What must you be doing? How must you be handling it? Desperately, he wishes he could split himself into two so he could be there with you, to help ease your burden. His only solace is that Wonwoo is there. A trusted friend, a great ally, and someone who holds you in high regard. He knows Wonwoo can help you deal with it, he’s whip-smart, and Seungcheol picked him as your steward for a reason.
He just hopes it’s not too much for you.
Seungcheol’s predictions for Wonwoo are accurate, as back in the castle, the Lord runs possibilities in his head like they are calculations. An algorithm in his mind, eyes unfocused, sitting before you rock still as he thinks. His first fully formed notion is that he is grateful that you told him this before it was announced to the Courts. The revelation of another possible heir is not something to be taken lightly. While the King having illegitimate children is not surprising, considering how many mistresses he had, said child being a well decorated Knight could cause great disruption among the castle clergy. So Wonwoo prefers being prepared.
His second thought is; things are about to become very unstable. He voices as much to you, watching as you sigh deeply and close your eyes for a brief second, like you are accepting his warning.
“I assume it will be.” You reply. “This is shocking information.”
Eunhee is serving tea, and Wonwoo gratefully accepts the cup. The warm liquid wets his parched throat, and he didn’t even realise he was so thirsty.
“I want to know possibilities.” You continue. “When the Queen Mother announces this to the Courts, I’m assuming there will be questions.”
Wonwoo nods, contemplating. “Her word is very heavy evidence. However, I fear we might need more.”
Something clinks loudly, and both your faces turn to where Eunhee is carefully placing a cup on the table beside your armchair. She clears her throat, and Wonwoo notices how tense she is. When she looks up, her eyes meet his directly. Immediately, something in Wonwoo’s mind scratches at him.
“What is it?” He addresses her.
You look confused, eyes flitting between your steward and your handmaid. Eunhee hesitates. Wonwoo watches closely as her hand reaches into her belt, tugging something out. A piece of folded paper, yellow and worn, wilting at the edges, held closed by a wax seal.
“This was given to me by Chief Councillor Yoon before he left for the battlefield.” Eunhee’s voice is uncertain, like she doesn’t know if she is doing the right thing. “He instructed me to reveal it only in the circumstances of Sir Choi’s death but…”
“Eunhee.” You sound shocked, looking at the woman with wide eyes. Eunhee bows deeply, leaning heavily on her knees.
“I’m deeply apologetic, Your Majesty.” She sounds sincere. “I gave him my word.”
You huff and nod, though you still look slightly miffed. You take the letter carefully from Eunhee’s hands and undo the seal. The paper crinkles as it opens.
Wonwoo watches patiently as you read over it, eyebrows furrowing initially before your face smooths with shock. Curiosity gnaws at him, but he holds his tongue. Finally, when you are done, you look up at him with a fire in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while. He blinks when you hold the letter out to him. He watches a small smile slowly stretch over your face.
“This is all we will need, Wonwoo.” Your voice is reinvigorated. “This is it.”
Wonwoo is quick to read the contents, the neat scrawl of the woman’s handwriting, the full story behind Sir Choi’s conception, and the agreement to bring him back to the castle when he is a young boy to train him as a royal guard. Something in Wonwoo’s veins lights up. He lets out a long sigh he didn’t even know he was holding, and nods approvingly.
“You are correct, Your Majesty.” He smiles. “This is it.”
He watches you exchange a giddy smile with Eunhee. Wonwoo straightens and clears his throat to get your attention again.
“While the Queen Mother’s word and this letter are certainly convincing,” he states, “your own standing is vital.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Wonwoo sighs. “As flimsy as it may be, yours is the only authority in this castle right now. Sir Choi’s ascension to the Throne depends on every action you take in his absence.”
You nod resolutely. “Tell me what to do and I will do it.”
Wonwoo watches you closely, the determination in your face. He takes a deep breath, a thought forming in his head.
“Your Majesty,” he says delicately, “it is important that you know what Sir Choi receiving the Crown will mean for you.”
Wonwoo straightens and leans closer. “I know you two have a good rapport between you, but my job is to prepare you for everything, so I am telling you this. I am certain he will ensure your comfort as Queen Dowager under his reign. Likely he will have you settled in a castle off grounds, but with your own staff. You can live there with much ease…”
Wonwoo trails off as he watches a smile slowly spreading on your face, confused at your reaction. You reach forward, and he stiffens in shock when you pat his arm, as if reassuring him.
“Do not worry about that, Wonwoo.” You state. There is a little twinkle in your eye, and for the first time, Wonwoo isn’t sure he can guess what you are thinking.
…………………………………
The next few days are a critical whirlwind.
Wonwoo’s instructions are clear, and you trust his advice completely. Immediately after dawn, you are already dressed in dark colors of mourning, the appropriate attire for a widow, and on your way to the Church, requesting audience with the archbishop. That is the first step, according to your steward.
If there is any hope of legitimising Sir Choi, we need the backing of the Church.
After hearing your story and showing him the letter, with reassurances of the Queen Mother’s word in today’s upcoming Court, you get the archbishop’s promise of support. You know there are supporting factors on why he agreed. You are popular in the Church because of your respect for them, and you also know Seojoon metaphorically spat on their faces with the mistresses he flaunted so much. Seungcheol is not only a well respected Knight, but already a war hero. That, and the Church’s insistence on maintaining the Crown means that the archbishop is quick to persuade. Wonwoo’s spirits are high as you leave, just as the sun is rising above the castle walls.
“Now we have witness testimony, a written record, and backing from the Church.” He gives you a smile, his eyes shining behind his spectacles. “The Crown will absolutely be preserved. I cannot imagine any nobles or lords staging a coup after we have moved so quickly.”
You nod, feeling your chest tighten with excitement. You think of Seungcheol, about him finding out, and the thought immediately makes you gasp, tapping Wonwoo’s arm.
“The messenger has not left, has he?” You ask. Wonwoo frowns.
“Not yet, Your Majesty. He just got here two nights ago.”
You nod resolutely. “Draft a message for him, Wonwoo. A sealed envelope meant for Seungcheol’s hand only. And one for Jeonghan. The troops must know who their new King is.”
Wonwoo laughs, and you realise this is the first time you’ve heard that sound from him. He reflects how happy you feel on the inside. “Right away, my lady. As soon as the council recognises Sir Choi as Heir Presumptive, I will ensure that noble testimony is written and recorded. The messenger will set out immediately, as well as a few more on alternate routes. The word must get to him fast.”
You cannot tamp down your smile. It takes every bit of self control to move through the castle with a somber face.
…………………………………..
It is early dawn when the sound of restless murmurs rouses Seungcheol. He blinks a few times, watching a faded light filter through the thick cloth of his tent. He is careful as he sits up, mindful of his wound. Jeonghan is already awake, hair all over the place, watching the tent entrance with swollen eyes and a frown on his face.
“I will go check out what is going on.” He offers, voice still heavy with sleep. Seungcheol nods.
Jeonghan stumbles up to his feet, curses when his ankle gets caught in the blanket and shakes it off. Seungcheol sighs and smooths his hair. Outside, the voices are getting closer. Before he or Jeonghan can react, he hears tapping on the wooden post holding up his tent, a makeshift knock.
“Sir,” Joshua’s voice is tense. “May I enter? It’s urgent.”
Jeonghan gives Seungcheol a look. Seungcheol calls out an affirmative.
Joshua walks in, bowing respectfully. He holds the flap open, and another man pokes his head in. Seungcheol tenses. It’s his herald, the messenger he sent to the castle. The man immediately sinks to his knee, bowing deeply. Seungcheol frowns at the excessive show of respect.
“Messages from the council.” He says, holding up two envelopes. They are waxed shut, the Royal family’s crest embossed on it. Seungcheol holds his hand out, as does Jeonghan.
The wax crackles as Seungcheol breaks it with his dagger, pulling the parchment open. It is an official declaration, stamped ink on top, and very long. He begins reading from the start, and as he goes, slowly, he feels the life drain out of his fingertips.
“Lords above.” He hears Jeonghan whisper. But it is far away, because blood is roaring in Seungcheol’s ears. His eyes move frantically, passing over names, declarations, testimonies, he freezes as your own signature, your own declaration, among the many nobles, the clergy, the archbishop. There’s shuffling at his side.
“Joshua.” Jeonghan’s voice is hard. “Wait outside. Both of you.”
The men shuffle out. Immediately, Jeonghan kneels by Seungcheol’s side, a heavy hand on his shoulder. Finally, Seungcheol looks up.
Jeonghan looks as winded as he feels, and one look at his friend makes the raven-haired man let out an incredulous laugh.
“Her Majesty is really something, isn’t she?” He mumbles. “I cannot even begin to imagine how she managed this.”
Seungcheol lets out a long breath, shaking his head. It’s more of a stiff jerk than anything else. He cannot believe it, mind still reeling. He hasn’t even processed Jeonghan’s revelation yet, the fact that he is of royal blood, and now he hears from the Royal Council that he has been declared the successor to the Throne, the Heir Presumptive.
“Okay.” He looks up at Jeonghan’s voice, watching his friend’s face harden, determined. He can see the cogs in Jeonghan’s brain already turning.
“First of all, we need information.” He begins, seating himself crosslegged in front of Seungcheol. “We need to know how many nobles have sworn loyalty to you, whether the capital is secure, and if any rival emergents are laying claim on the Throne instead-”
Seungcheol holds his own letter out, much heftier than Jeonghan’s. He takes it and reads it over. Seungcheol stares into space.
A King. A King. His head rings with the title.
“Okay, this is good.” Jeonghan nods, more to himself than Seungcheol. This is him in his element, assessing situations, politics, royal standings. Seungcheol feels like he’s drowning, but he knows Jeonghan won’t let him suffocate.
“They want me to return immediately for the coronation.” He states, voice hollow.
Jeonghan nods. “That is standard. You need to secure authority and prevent the Crown from being usurped.”
Seungcheol huffs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to feel, but one thing is for certain in his head.
“I cannot leave.” He states. “Not like this. If I ride now, I abandon the troops. And if the troops fall, there will be no kingdom left to rule.”
Jeonghan watches him quietly, contemplating. “You’re right. If you leave now, the soldiers will see it as abandonment.”
Silence stretches between the two men. Seungcheol watches the frown in between Jeonghan’s eyebrows, thinking. Finally, the man nods to himself.
“Okay,” he begins. “First, you need to write a reply to the council acknowledging the claim. Promise to them that you will return after securing the battlefield with the key victory. Mingyu will be here in a few days, and we can make our move. So likely, it won’t be delayed for too long.”
Seungcheol nods, feeling better as Jeonghan slowly solidifies a plan. His friend keeps talking.
“I will write back as well, asking the council to make declarations to the people.” He mumbles. “Of course, you not returning immediately comes with risks. Council can grow anxious. Some may even question your judgement. But that’s what your lovely lady is for.”
Jeonghan smiles as he says it, the first proper smile Seungcheol has seen from him in weeks. He can’t help it, he lets out a small laugh.
“How did she do it?” He muses out loud. Jeonghan shrugs.
“She’s smarter than any of us give her credit for, I suppose.”
That makes Seungcheol shake his head, feeling that familiar smile that the thought of you brings to his face.
“Never. I’ve always known she was clever.”
“Right.” Jeonghan nods. “I will never question her again. Or you.”
Seungcheol punches at his chest. Jeonghan laughs and slowly stands up.
“Alright then,” he brushes off his pants. “Ready to address your troops, Your Majesty?”
If Jeonghan didn’t immediately step away, Seungcheol would’ve punched him again. Instead, he just laughs, shaking his head.
“Remember, straight face.” Jeonghan warns. “You can’t celebrate this publicly.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
…………………………..
Mingyu looks worn in a way Seungcheol has never seen him before, but his smile is wide. He embraces Seungcheol before Seungcheol can bow to him, a gesture he doesn’t expect, but it is over before he can react. He realises that of course, he now holds the same status as Mingyu, so there is no need for him to bow. Mingyu’s hand is heavy on Seungcheol’s shoulder, and his grin doesn’t fade for a single second.
“When I got my sister’s letter, I was over the moon.” The King says in lieu of greeting. “I hope my words mean something to you when I say, this is the best thing that has happened for your country in many, many years.”
Seungcheol feels his chest swell. For days, he has lived in uncertainty with the newfound information he received. While Jeonghan moved with confidence, like he has prepared for this his whole life, Seungcheol felt like a fish out of water. Mingyu’s words, the validation from a monarch, invigorates him in a way he never expected.
The troops merge, strategies set in place by Seungcheol and Jeonghan over the last few weeks finally taking shape. Mingyu is resolute and confident, and Seungcheol feels much more in his element as he explains the plan of attack he came up with to secure the key victory. Outside his encampment, he can hear commotion as everyone rallies one last time. He knows this is it, the final stand. What happens today will determine if both their nations will stand or if they will fall.
At dawn, everyone stands at attention, weapons held tightly to their sides, armor in place, knees steady, heads high. Seungcheol stands before them, toe to toe with Mingyu, Jeonghan two paces behind them. He eyes his second in command, Joshua, standing before the troops and facing Seungcheol and Mingyu. The Kings. It’s still difficult to digest.
When Joshua shifts, Seungcheol’s eyes find him immediately. Briefly, their stares meet. He watches as Joshua reaches up and pulls off his helmet. Slowly, he lowers himself to one knee, placing his helmet before him, lowered to the ground.
Seungcheol watches, shocked. Beside him, Mingyu does not move. There is more shifting among the formations, helmets pulled off, knees meeting the dirt, helmets placed before them. Seungcheol feels his heart pound as they all kneel. The feeling of numbness in his limbs, something that has persisted for days, finally starts ebbing away. He hears Mingyu hum.
“Field recognition.” He murmurs. “I’m impressed.”
Seungcheol knows, immediately, that this is their oath. They are swearing fealty to him in this battle, acknowledging him as their king. In every sense of the word, this is a makeshift coronation.
For the first time since he was a child, Seungcheol feels like he might shed tears.
A fire lights in his chest, invigorating and all encompassing. He knows what he must do. In this moment, his purpose is clear. He feels the support of hundreds, thousands, like living beings inside him, holding him up, egging him on. Your signature on the parchment of his declaration is seared into his brain. He will win this fight, for his men, and for you, because no one has believed in him the way you have.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.5k
warnings (for this chapter): some fluff, angst, mentions of political talks, alliances, mentions of war the the battleground, some suggestive content but not very explicit, mentions of childbearing, death, bloodshed and injuries.
series masterlist
It is when winter starts bleeding into spring that things take a turn for the worst. Both within the castle walls and outside.
It is very easy to keep up appearances. Ever since the demise of the late King, and the subsequent takeover from your husband, everything became about optics very quickly. The reason for this shift was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes. War loomed near, and the new King’s behavior indicated much more nefarious reasons for the death of an old, beloved monarch. But no one dared question, no one dared protest. Because he is the sole heir, the only one of his bloodline left, and until you are to bear a child for this family, none can question his authority unless they want the Crown to fall.
And so his behavior is excused. Jeonghan, the Court’s Chief Councillor, struggles day in and day out to keep up appearances, both inside and outside the castle. In your opinion, there is no managing the unmanageable, but you must laud Jeonghan for his tireless efforts to do so. You know that your husband is a disdainful, disgusting man, with a brain still devoid of maturity and diplomatic manners. No one holds more contempt for him than yourself, but at the end of the day, you are his wife, the Queen Consort, and you must do what you can to compensate for his incompetence.
Your step-up, born mostly from necessity, ends up going very largely in your favor.
When you hold Court, it is in high spirits and with enthusiastic participation, despite the dread and gloom that comes with the threat of war. Something about your blood relation to His Majesty Kim Mingyu seems to solidify everyone’s allyship to his Kingdom, which you know your brother is endlessly thankful for, if his letters are anything to go by. Public opinion and support is crucial in times like this, and your presence, once an afterthought and a dismissed annoyance, now inspires. Church clergy love you for your respect of their authority, castle staff reveres you except the few who serve the King as his mistresses, and Noblewomen who once sneered at you for not bearing a child now seem a bit more warm to you. They still want an heir, since that is considered your primary duty, but in conditions where everything else seems bleak, you know everyone finds your strong command on your Court refreshing.
Lord Jeon is positively aglow by your favorable reputation.
“I have known of you long, Your Majesty.” He muses. “But never was I made aware of your intellectual prowess. Was Her Majesty trained in the arts of the Courts as a child?”
You giggle and shake your head. “Not formally. But my brother made sure I learned.”
This explanation worked two fold. Direct tutelage under a reigning King helped solidify your authority, and it also established Mingyu’s credibility among your subjects.
Another reason people are warming up to you now is the glaring absence of your mother in law’s constant barrage of veiled insults towards you. The Queen Dowager, your mother in law, has her own staff, of course, but she keeps herself far removed from castle happenings these days. Ever since the late King’s death, she has become somewhat of a recluse, a surprising change that you didn’t expect from a woman who famously cared only of her relationship with her husband enough to bear him a child, and no more. You are endlessly puzzled by her withdrawal, staying exclusively with her ladies-in-waiting and entertaining no other audience, not even her Court. Well beloved among the castle staff, this has caused a great rift between the ruling King and the previous Crown. It agitates your husband that his own mother is unsupportive of his authority, which pleases you to no end, but you know it also weighs like a heavy burden on Jeonghan.
“I know it will be difficult, but I come to you with this request.” He says to you one night when Seungcheol brings him to your chambers. You are shocked to see him there, but you know it must be important if he is breaking formality like this. “Please ask the Queen Mother to attend the King’s Court. Only the King’s Court, and no other obligation. Despite your strongest efforts, Your Majesty, approval among noblemen for the new King is not faring well.”
You huff and nod from where you sit in your armchair, even if you deeply resent the idea of asking anything of that woman. You will do it for Jeonghan, because he has always been nothing but kind to you, and you will do it because Seungcheol himself brought the man to your door. Your honor refuses to turn down his request.
When Jeonghan leaves, Seungcheol remains, as he always does these nights. You smile and place your tea cup down, eyes fluttering when he places his lips on the crown of your head from behind you where you sit, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Incredible of Jeonghan to come and see me with this request.” You muse, watching the fireplace. Your Knight hums, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, kneading them softly. You sigh and relax.
“You are popular these days, my love.”
You smile, letting him work on the knots in your shoulder. Then, he says words you have come to despise.
“I must leave early today.”
You look up, watching his face upside down where he stands behind your chair. “Why so?”
“Meetings.” He looks apologetic. “Intelligence tells us that troops will be moving when the winter snow melts soon. We have to be prepared.”
You huff, rolling your eyes. Seungcheol’s workload has exponentially increased ever since war has become a real concern. Some nights, he stays for hours, some, not long at all.
“How long before they expect you?” You ask.
Seungcheol ponders. “Fifteen minutes?”
You turn in your chair, disengaging with his hands to look up at him with a half lidded gaze.
“Make the most of them then, Sir Choi.”
And he does, disrobing you in record time, pressing your front into the sheets of your bed and pushing into you from behind with just his slacks tugged down enough to set himself free. It is quick, messy and sizzling hot, his fingers tangled in your hair, your sounds muffled in the cloth you are lying on as he pounds you just the way he has learned you like the most, the pace that carries you to your end the fastest. He fills you up with his seed, warmth bathing your insides, and his lips feverishly running over your neck as he groans and curses, whispering into your ear how much he loves you. He doesn’t pull out until he’s sure your body is melting into the mattress, leaving you pliant and buzzing comfortably. He never compromises in cleaning you up afterwards and making sure you are cozy. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he leaves, your nude body tucked into bed, lips tingling from the force of his kisses, and his own jacket not even an inch out of place, but the taste of your still lingering in his mouth.
You’ve both become good at enjoying your rendezvous to the fullest.
When your steward comes to you the next morning to go over your agenda for the day, you interrupt him before he can begin and tell him about Jeonghan’s unexpected visit.
Wonwoo ponders and nods, scribbling something on the parchment.
“I will arrange for a meeting. Maybe over tea. I will let you know when I have something, Your Majesty.”
One thing about Wonwoo is that he is efficient, because that very evening, you are approved for an audience with the Queen Dowager and seated in her parlor while her handmaids serve you tea and cakes. Once your plate is made, and so is hers, she dismisses the handmaids, and they quietly scuttle out of the room.
“Why have you come?” She asks, twisting her wrist to swirl the tea in her cup. She stares intently at it instead of you. Her voice is muted, unlike the booming timbre she has always had in the many years she has ruled this castle. You hesitate and take a deep breath.
“I’ve come with a humble request, Queen Mother.” You begin.
“Oh?” She still does not look at you. “And what is it?”
Again, you pause. You don’t know how to phrase it without offending her sensibilities.
“Things have been much different since His Majesty’s most tragic passing.” You say. “Your Majesty has not graced us with her presence as often as we would have liked.”
To your shock, she laughs. A single, sharp sound that hits your ear more like a scoff than actual humor.
“You would not like it, I’m sure.”
You shake your head. “I certainly would.”
“Do not lie to me, girl.”
Girl. You grit your teeth. You do not like this form of dismissive address.
“Your son, then.” You concede. “His Majesty would like your presence to be more apparent.”
You watch her lips curl, an ugly sneer overtaking them. She swirls the cup quicker, the liquid dangerously close to the lip, almost spilling. Her eyes are still on it, but far away. She seems to pay no attention to what she is doing.
“My son.” She murmurs. “My son. He cares naught for my presence. My son. His father’s murderer.”
You gasp, shocked. “Your Majesty-”
“I have been a fool for many years.” She keeps going, stare distant. It is almost as if she doesn’t even care that you are there. “Dismissed and discarded because I hold no value. Overshadowed by harlots and concubines, unending women who did for my husband only that which I was supposed to.”
Your throat tightens. You watch, frozen still, as she spills feelings you have held in the deepest chambers of your heart your entire married life.
“Until Seojoon. Until his birth, I was nothing. After his birth, I was…..” Her hand pauses. The tea in her cup goes stationary. “I was mother to the Heir Apparent. I bore a son for the Crown, and so I had value. Endless value that none of his other women had. One of them bore him a daughter. Another one bore him a son. But I had a son first. And mine was legitimate. Unlike those second-hand scum.”
“Seojoon was perfect in my eyes, because he was mine. He came from me, from my blood and my womb, and not from the despicable four walls that I lived in. He was without fault. Pure. He could do no wrong because I bore him. The Heir to the Throne. His only legitimate child. The future of our Kingdom. A ruler. Smart. Handsome.”
Her face twists again. Hardens. “A conspirator. Liar. Killer.”
Her voice shakes. You don’t dare move an inch. Silence descends on you both, heavy and potent. You watch her closely as she takes in a shaky breath, her chest rising with it. Her skin is deeply wrinkled, and she looks like she has aged years in the span of mere months.
“Will you do the same thing?” She says, quieter this time. “Bear his child and believe it to be pure until the day he proves otherwise?”
Your teeth grit. “I will never bear his child.”
Her eyes finally turn to you, focusing for the first time since your arrival. She looks at you directly, something she has never done for such a long stretch of time. You do everything in your power to not flinch, to not blink.
“Right.” She whispers. “You will bear that Knight’s instead.”
Your blood runs cold. You stare, unmoving, at the woman as she finally sips her tea. She swallows and then sighs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
“No matter. It will be an heir, in any case.”
Your lips part, caught between shock and confusion, your hands balled into fists. You struggle to string words together, to say something, anything, to question what she has just stated. But before you can, she reaches for the tiny bell on her table, shaking it. Thin, trilling sound fills the space, and seconds later, her handmaids step in.
“I’ve heard your request.” She says, finally. “You may leave.”
You don’t protest.
The walk back to your chambers is numb. You can barely remember the journey, nor do you pay much heed to Wonwoo as he rattles on about what you must do next. When you reach your door, Soonyoung pulls it open, and you raise a hand up to make your steward stop talking.
“I feel unwell.” You mumble. “I will be retiring for the day.”
He blinks, concern flitting over his features. “Shall I summon a doctor, Your Majesty?”
You shake your head. “I just wish to lay down. You’re dismissed, Wonwoo.”
He bows, nodding. He looks unconvinced, but takes you for your word. As he turns to leave, Soonyoung looks carefully at you.
“Shall I send for Sir Choi?” He asked in a low voice. You give him a grateful smile and shake your head again.
“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Thank you.” Your voice sounds hollow. You say nothing more, closing the door behind you after entering your room.
The silence is suffocating, but it is your only friend right now. In the quiet air, you recall the interaction that left you this way.
She knew.
You don’t know if, in hindsight, it was naïveté that convinced you of your secret being safe. Soonyoung and Eunhee know, but Seungcheol swore up and down Soonyoung would never tell, and you know for certain Eunhee is trustworthy. The circle of the knowing is iron clad. The Queen Mother finding out feels near impossible, yet she did.
Then again, there are the rumors. Everyone in the castle is famously aware of your disdain for your husband. You make no secret of it. The Queen Mother knows you will never lie with him, and if she knows, her ladies know, which means everyone knows. Loose-lipped, all of them. They do not care for keeping secrets. Rumors of you and Seungcheol have existed since the day he was declared your Champion. It just so happens that now, those rumors are true. That being said, the Queen Mother could just be operating on those old rumors. She has no proof that they are not rumors anymore.
You sit shakily on your armchair, trying to relax into it like you always do, but failing. Your corset digs painfully into your back, and this time, you feel it acutely. Her voice rings in your ear, and the second, more dreadful part of her address floats through your short term memory.
It will be an heir, in any case.
Your heartbeat speeds up, mind reeling with implications. She could not have meant what you thought she did. What did she mean by ‘in any case’? No child born of Seungcheol can be an heir. It can’t….
You stare into the fire, the flames that dance back and forth, and you remember a time far back when your Knight kneeled by your legs as you stared into the same fireplace, when your own heart was breaking at the seams because of the Queen Mother’s words. He told you then, of his own mother, a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, and how so many in the circle were the King’s mistresses. Could it be that Seungcheol’s own mother….?
No.
You do not dare entertain that idea. You do not dare. Because that would mean Seungcheol is-
Bile rises to your throat at an alarming speed. You barely make it to your basin before you heave, brown liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the ceramic. Your mind spins. You heave again, guts twisting. Tears fill your eyes.
Seungcheol could be your husband’s half brother.
You grip the edge of the basin tight and sink down, curling on yourself against the stone floor to take deep breaths. You can’t think like this. You can’t. This is a wild assumption. Shame fills your head at the very thought, but that look on your mother in law’s face haunts you, blank but sharp, like she knows something you don’t. Something sick curls in your chest again, and you fight to swallow it down.
You jump when hands meet your arms, head jerking up. You blink sharply, the world coming into focus again, sounds clearing.
“Your Majesty?”
Slanted, wide eyes meet yours, alarmed and hesitant. You sway a little as you stand, but Soonyoung’s hold on you is strong, and he keeps you in place.
“Are you okay?”
You are not, very clearly, but his question makes your face crumple. Thick tears spill down your cheeks. You sniffle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Soonyoung. I don’t know why my life is like this.”
Soonyoung looks almost scared, like a fish out of water as he tries to think of what to say. You pay him no heed, your head still spinning and the sickness in your chest so acute that you want to vomit again. You cough and sway, unsteady where you lean against the basin again. Soonyoung’s grip on your arms tightens.
“Let’s start simple then, okay? Let’s go lie down first.”
You only nod blankly, letting the guard slowly guide you out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You lie down, despite the difficulty your attire gives you, and stare blankly at the far wall.
“I will send for a doctor, Your Majesty.” Soonyoung says. You immediately shake your head.
“No doctor. Only Eunhee.”
He hesitates. “You are terribly ill. Please allow me to call a healer.”
You refuse again. “I just need some strong tea. I’m just….. overwhelmed.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue anymore. He leaves the room, and you don’t move for fear of hurling again. You close your burning eyes, trying to undo some of the notions you have created in your head. You cannot think like this, because they are all baseless. You have no proof. One sentence out of the Queen Mother’s mouth is not confirmation. You are building immense assumptions and they are leaving you half mad.
Eunhee’s hands are cool on your skin, and it makes your eyes pop open when you feel them on your forehead. Her face is scrunched in concern as she looks you over. Behind her, Soonyoung stands a few paces away, wringing his hands nervously.
“Should I call a doctor?” He asks his wife. You make a face.
“I told you, Soonyoung. No doctor.”
He stiffens and bows his head in apology. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
Eunhee looks hesitant. She kneels by your bedside, her head level with you. “Should we send for Sir Choi?”
You ponder, going over your current mental state, and you realise you cannot face Seungcheol like this. He will want to know what caused it, what was said to you, and he is stubborn enough to pursue it until he can find out the exact reason, with the intention of eliminating anything that caused you distress. You can’t tell him this. Not yet, at least. So you shake your head, something that surprises both Eunhee and Soonyoung, but they accept your decision.
The rest of the night is subdued. Eunhee brews a calming cup of tea and squeezes a lemon into it. It settles the queasiness in your stomach, and she quickly helps you change into more comfortable clothes. You don’t speak much, lost in your head instead. When the embers in the fireplace finally start dying down, in the dead of the night, you conclude that you had certainly overreacted.
It was ludicrous to even insinuate that Seungcheol might be Royal blood. He is a Knight, a very popular one at that. If this was true, someone out there would have definitely said something. And so you vow to yourself to dismiss this idea completely. The coming morning will be fresh and new, and you can put this horrible night behind you.
The next morning comes, but not the way you imagined.
You are woken by Eunhee shaking you urgently. For a split second, you fear you have overslept, which is why your handmaid is waking you. But one look at the window tells you that the sky is still mostly dim, and Eunhee is here way ahead of time. One look at her face has you freezing, pale, near sickly, and overcome with panic.
“What is it?” You ask her, voice still hoarse with sleep as you sit up, trying to clear your heavy eyes. Your brain is barely awake.
“It is beginning.” She says. “Troops are readying themselves. A herald from your brother’s kingdom arrived an hour ago. The Guard is moving out.”
Your veins freeze. Breath traps itself in your throat. You push your sheets off, your bare feet hitting the stone floor. Eunhee looks disheveled, almost. She is panting, and you realise she ran all the way here. You look at your chamber doors. Slightly ajar. There is no movement outside, but you can hear shouts, neighs and hoofbeats through your windows. Sounds of clinking metal and leather boots hitting the ground accompany them. You look at Eunhee again.
“Soonyoung too?” You ask. She nods.
Your heart squeezes for the woman. You cannot imagine what it must be like for her to watch her husband leave for a war from which he may never return. Well, you can, and your intake of breath is sharp.
“Seungcheol?” Your voice trembles.
Eunhee looks pained. “He is about to leave too. He’s in the stables. Their journey will be long, so they must set off immediately.”
Your heart fills with unimaginable dread. You push off the bed, sliding your bare feet into slippers.
“Get my cloak, Eunhee.”
Your handmaid blinks, shocked. “Your Majesty, you cannot-”
“Did you say farewell to Soonyoung?” You ask sharply.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Would you be okay with me not getting that chance?”
Her face slumps, resigned. She does not say more, rushing to your wardrobe and pulling out a heavy, black cloak to cover your barely clad body. She gives you one more look, and quietly, you both slip out from your chambers.
It is barely sunrise, which means no castle staff, noblemen or maids linger. The stone hallways are empty, lit by torches on either side that guide your way. Eunhee seems to know exactly where she is going. She is quick footed and quiet, and you follow her lead. Many descending stairs take you down narrow corridors you have never walked before, and finally, Eunhee stops in front of a large, brown gate. On the other side, you can hear shouting. Through the narrow slits in the wooden slates, you can barely make out movement nearing levels of commotion. Eunhee looks around and paces back, pulling open a smaller door in the wall of the corridor.
“Your Majesty, my apologies, but you will have to wait here while I get to Sir Choi.” She says. “I cannot take you in there with me.”
You understand, nodding and stepping into what appears to be a broom closet. It is small and dusty, and you hike up your cloak slightly to prevent it from dirtying as Eunhee shuts the door behind you. It is pitch black inside, blinking makes no difference, and you muffle a cough as the stale air of the space stings your nose. You wait, your ears on high alert, your heart pounding.
When the large door made of wooden slabs creaks, voices fill the corridor outside. You stare, unwatching. Finally, your door is pulled open slightly. You blink at the onslaught of light. Eunhee’s face comes into focus. She steps aside.
Seungcheol is standing behind her, face pulled taut in alarm. He is clad head to toe in metal plates, encasing every part of his body for protection. His sword hangs by the side of his hip. Even beneath the heavy armor, you can see his posture stiffen when he sees you. You speak before he can.
“I had to see you.” You plead with your eyes, already gathering unshed tears between your lids. “I couldn’t let you leave like this.”
Seungcheol sighs heavily, walking closer to you. “Someone could see.”
You shake your head. “I don’t care.”
His eyes dart over your face, like he’s trying to memorise it. You can’t help but reach up, a shaky hand meeting his cheek. His eyelids flutter under your touch. You don’t heed the fact that Eunhee is standing right there, and so is Soonyoung, a few paces behind you and your Knight.
“Forgive me, my Queen.” Seungcheol whispers. “Leaving you like this might be my biggest sin.”
You shake your head, trying to give him a placating smile. “As long as you come back to me, I will forgive you.”
He takes one more step forward, a tiny shuffle that allows him to bow his head. His hair brushes over your face. Your breath hitches. You close the distance, lips landing on his in a searing kiss. His leather covered hands meet your waist under your heavy cloak, scrunching the material of your thin nightdress between his fingers. His touch feels like fire, and your face crumples so much that you weep into his mouth, breaking the kiss.
“My love…” Seungcheol breathes, his unoccupied hand finding your cheek, wiping the wet tracks. “Please, your tears pain me.”
“Promise me you will come back.” You plead. “You’re all I have.”
Seungcheol’s eyebrows scrunch, his eyes are clouded with sorrow. He kisses your forehead, a harsh press of his lips that feels like he is trying to leave his heart there with you.
“Have I ever broken my oath to you before?” He whispers into your skin. “I have no intentions of starting now.”
You nod. He kisses you again, softer this time. Metal clinks behind him.
“Sir, we must go.” Soonyoung sounds hesitant but urgent.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, looks you over once more. “Take care of yourself. For me.”
You nod, trying your best not to sob. You don’t want to worry him as he leaves. You take a deep breath, your limbs screaming when he pulls away. He quickly pulls up the cloak to cover you again, gives you a final smile. You watch him hungrily, taking him in. The prominent ridge of his thick eyebrows, the sharp slope of his nose, plump and pink lips, the jut of his jaw, perfect and unblemished pale skin. His hair, glorious locks of dark brown flowing past his face. When he turns, you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a single sight of him. The wooden door is pushed open. The two men slip through it, and it shuts heavily behind them.
Your strength breaks.
Eunhee barely has time to grip your shoulders as you slump, pulling the material of the cloak up to your mouth to muffle your sob into it. She pulls your body to hers so she can keep you upright. And she lets you cry. You feel so much in that moment. Grief, dread, confusion, so much pain.
Another feeling, panic, quickly joins all of these when a voice sounds behind you.
“Well, I’m not exactly surprised to find you here.”
You would recognise it anywhere. The sly tilt, soft and slightly jovial. Eunhee gasps and turns, pulling you with her. Jeonghan is standing a few feet behind both of you, weighed down by an open, brown cloak, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Between your sobs, you had not heard him come up so close, which is your fault. He looks almost amused. His eyes flit to Eunhee for a brief second, landing back on you. Your tear stained face, the circles under your eyes. He sighs and gestures before turning around to walk away. When neither of you move to follow, he speaks.
“Come on. Unless you would enjoy being caught.”
Eunhee spurs you forward, and you will your feet to muster up some strength. You shuffle a few paces behind Jeonghan. He is near silent, like a ghost, and even his clothes don’t make any noise as he walks. He leads you both up a rogue flight of stairs. Minutes later, he opens a door to what looks like a sitting room, shelves lining walls, floors draped with cozy rugs and sprawling sofas and armchairs. There is no fireplace, so the room is chilly, but your body is already very heated, so you don’t mind. You settle onto one end of a sofa, leaning against the arm support. Eunhee looks panicked, and Jeonghan seems to notice.
“Will you arrange for some tea, please? Two cups. Strong for Her Majesty.”
Eunhee nods, looking relieved to leave, and she quickly scampers out, leaving you alone with the man.
Jeonghan shrugs off his cloak, leaving him in a simple shirt and slacks. He drapes the cloak over the armchair across from you and settles on it, crossing one leg over the other. Then, he just watches you silently. You shift under his stare, eyeing the rich, maroon carpet.
“You have nothing to say to me, Chief Councillor?” Your voice is hoarse.
Jeonghan hums, tilting his head like he’s contemplating. “Maybe just to warn you that it was extremely reckless to say goodbye like that.”
You sigh. “No one saw us.”
“I did.”
“And will you do anything about it?” Your eyes shift up to meet his. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles.
“I haven’t done anything so far. Why would I start now?”
You lean back on the sofa, closing your eyes. You feel exhausted.
“How long have you known?”
Jeonghan’s foot sways a little, like he’s moving it to a tune in his head. “Long.”
You stare up at the ceiling. “It seems like everybody knows.”
He shrugs. “Suspicions only.”
“The Queen Mother said something about it.”
He waves a hand, as if in dismissal. “She loves gossip.”
“She said something else too.” You eye the man, trying to gauge his reaction. As always, his face is smooth as porcelain. He gives nothing away. “About Seungcheol.”
“Oh?” Jeonghan picks his nails.
“About his parentage.” You tack on.
His eyes flit up again then, and this time, they stay on you. “What are you implying, Your Majesty?”
You shrug. “I imply nothing. I merely ask if you know.”
“What am I supposed to have known?”
You huff, feeling irritation gnaw at you. “Must you always answer my question with a question?”
That makes him laugh, and it breaks the heavy, suffocating air a little. It lessens some of the weight on your chest, and you remember why you enjoy Jeonghan’s company so much.
“I am an advisor, my lady.” He says. “I deal with opinions and circumstances.”
“You are smarter than any man in this castle.” You goad. “You know more than anyone else. You knew about me and Sir Choi.”
“You two are not subtle.” He quips.
“The Knights who fought for my favor,” you continue on, “both were handpicked by the late King, on your advice.”
Jeonghan watches. There is intensity in his stare.
“Why did you recommend Sir Choi for the job, Chief Councillor?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever assumption you have in your head, Your Majesty, please banish it. Seungcheol’s parentage had nothing to do with it. I recommended him because he was the best man for the job. And because he was my friend.”
“So what do you know about his parentage?” You press.
The door opens and Eunhee shuffles in with a tray. You don’t break from Jeonghan’s stare for one second, don’t even flinch, as she serves both you and him.
“Thank you, Eunhee.” You mumble. “You may leave. You must be tired. Go rest.”
She blinks, hesitating.
“It’s fine.” You reassure her. “Jeonghan will escort me back to my chambers, won’t you?”
The corner of Jeonghan’s lip ticks up, amused at the fact that you addressed him by his first name in front of your handmaid. You don’t know why you do it. A show of authority? To get a reaction out of him? He doesn’t give you any.
“Of course.”
Eunhee nods in finality. She bows to both of you, and finally leaves.
You sip your tea in silence. Neither of you speaks, and you begin to realise that you are bone-tired. You were ill the night before, and you had a short, fitful sleep. Then, you were woken in a panic. The last twelve hours have been too intense for you. You do not know what to do with yourself. It also is clear to you that Jeonghan has no intention of giving you a straight answer. Once your cup is finished, you place it gently on the table next to the sofa.
“Jeonghan,” You whisper. “Please take me back.”
Jeonghan nods, placing his own cup down and standing up. He pulls his cloak on again and offers you his arm. You take it gratefully, and leave the room.
The sun is barely visible through the castle windows. The sky is still mostly dark, and the heavy beats of horses hitting the ground are distant. The troops are moving out, it seems. You try not to think about it.
“I’m tired.” You confess in a quiet voice. Jeonghan nods.
“Rest well. And banish all worry from your head, my lady. I promise you, when you need to know anything, I will tell you myself.”
That makes you turn your head. You look up at Jeonghan’s profile. He feels your eyes on him, looking back with a sheepish smile.
“To be honest, I have my doubts too.” He confesses.
Your heart pounds. When you reach your door, you let go of Jeonghan’s arm and turn to face him. “Is there any way to verify?”
He looks like he is contemplating. “Maybe.”
You watch him expectantly, but he doesn’t elaborate, so you continue. “Will you?”
Jeonghan tilts his head in that way he does when he’s thinking. “The question is, Your Majesty, do you really want to know?”
You frown. “Of course I do.”
“What will that accomplish?” He continues. “What will it do except anger Seungcheol about his mother and the late King?”
You pause, staring at the Councillor. He sighs and shrugs, reaching around you to open the heavy oak door of your chambers.
“Think about it, that’s all I ask.” He says finally, and you enter your room, closing the door quietly behind you.
………………………………
Kwon Eunhee has worked in the castle for as long as she has been alive.
Her earliest memory comes from an age she cannot even pinpoint, but she remembers the place very clearly. It was the Queen Dowager’s parlor, a place so grand that she can’t help but recall it even today. It was her first brush with royalty, the young woman who had just been wed to the newly crowned King. Eunhee remembers her mother gripping her hand tightly as she stood near the wall, having accompanied the noblewoman she served there. Her mother had been a handmaid as well, as these things ran in generations. Eunhee knew that was her future too, and that day had been the first taste of the life she would live going forward.
Her mother’s mistress was attending the Queen’s court that day, and had requested she be there to serve tea later. Eunhee was little, but old enough now to help somewhat, like an apprentice. So far, she hadn’t done any work, limited only to small lessons her mother taught her. How to serve tea, how to peel fruit with minimal waste, where to sit and where to stand when ordered.
“Everyone prefers it differently.” She would always say. “My mistress, for example, likes to eat apples with their skin still on. But I have heard that Her Majesty despises the skin.”
Eunhee just listens and watches, passively learning at even a young age. As a handmaid, she knows the significance of making yourself small. She must not draw attention, and any task she does has to be so smooth and discrete that no one even realises she is there. She is meant to be invisible. That’s the gist of it. For years, she learned this skill, honed it until she was one of the best in the castle.
Eunhee always assumed she would be assigned to another noblewoman when she was of age and ready to work full time like her mother. She never expected, in a million years, for her mistress to be the newly wedded Princess. Even her own mother had been shocked at the appointment, but dared not question Her Majesty the Queen. Eunhee had been nervous, because she still remembered her first brush with royalty in the Queen’s parlor all those years ago. The giggling, cackling ladies-in-waiting who could not stop pouring wine into their glasses, overindulging in grapes and alcohol until they were concerningly red in the face. Their gossip was salacious, entirely unwarranted and mean spirited. Eunhee had walked away, as a young girl, with the impression that the closer you were to royal status, the more artificial your soul became.
You were different, though.
From day one, Eunhee knew you had been wronged. Hoodwinked into accepting conditions you had never been warned of, thrown to the wolves without warning. She had seen the genuine heartbreak in your eyes as you came to terms with it, and Eunhee’s own distaste for the Queen only grew. It was an intense feeling, and despite being trained all her life to tamp herself down as much as possible, Eunhee couldn’t help the venom that curled in her heart when watching her young mistress fall apart.
“Never you mind, Eunhee.” Soonyoung would always say when she complained at night, going over the events of the day, trying to lighten her load by confessing to her husband. “Royals are all like this, and their business is none of ours. The more you get involved, the worse it will end for you. So just keep your head down.”
But Eunhee couldn’t, not when she went to wake you up every morning, only to see dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Not when she had to excessively powder the bags under your eyes to try and hide how tired you were. And especially not when she was summoned by the Queen, asking for personal details on if you have bedded your husband yet.
It boiled her blood.
In Eunhee’s eyes, your affair with your Knight is not wrong in any way. Eunhee has known Sir Choi since they were both children, though she was far removed from him. His mother was a lady-in-waiting until she left the castle on the Queen’s orders, sending her son to the Royal Guard when he was merely seven years old, in order to train. Before he was Sir Choi, he was merely Choi Seungcheol, the fierce young boy who fought like his life depended on it. Eunhee watched him grow up, and grew up with him, the same as her mother’s mistress’ son, Yoon Jeonghan, who is now Chief Councillor to the King. Growing up in the castle meant that Eunhee had known all of them for years, and so she can vouch for Sir Choi’s integrity completely.
When Soonyoung told her of what he heard inside your chambers, Eunhee was thrilled, and in the best way. No one deserves love more than you, and no one is a better option for that than the boy she had seen grow into a wonderful man.
She can feel your pain when the troops leave, because she feels that pain herself. She had been prepared for Soonyoung’s departure for a while now, mentally steeling herself as much as possible, and she knows you have been doing the same, but you fall apart worse than she does, and try as she might, Eunhee cannot pick up the pieces.
The morning after their troops march out, His Majesty the King follows with a grand procession. It’s unsuited for a situation as grim and dire as a war, but he has never possessed any sort of tact, so Eunhee is not surprised. You stand at the castle gates, dressed impeccably in the attire Eunhee had picked out for you, breathtakingly beautiful as always. But Eunhee can see the glaze over your eyes. She can see how distant your stare is, unfocused. Your mind is elsewhere entirely, she knows, least interested in watching your husband depart for the battleground in his mighty carriage. It is easy to read the atmosphere. The noblemen stand around with an air of disinterest that rivals yours, except theirs is much more apathetic. The Queen Dowager had not even bothered to show for the farewell. Eunhee suspects that no one cares for their King’s departure, not really.
She cannot remember the last time a monarch was so deeply hated.
Preparing to leave with His Majesty is Chief Councillor Yoon, who looks strangely out of place in his armor. He is not a fighter, but war calls for this attire, and so he dons it. Eunhee swallows tightly as she remembers the night before.
He had found her in the kitchens after escorting you back to your room. She had been surprised when he stopped across the large, wooden table from her, watching her closely for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small sheet of paper. It was slightly yellow and wilted along the edges, held shut by an untouched, maroon wax seal. He set it gently on the table, in the center, and stepped back.
“Give this to her if Seungcheol dies during battle.”
The sentence had knocked all air out of her chest. Blunt, cold, and leaving no room for question. In her shock, she had only shakily nodded, watching him turn to leave the kitchens. She eyed the paper, how worn it was, how old it looked, as she carefully picked it up. The paper was waxy and delicate, and she half worried it might disintegrate in her hands.
She feels the weight of it burn her side where she has tucked it against the belt under the dress as she watches the Chief Councillor step into a carriage from over your shoulder. She longs to know what is written in it, but she has been trained all her life in the art of restraint. It is not her place to look, and she was trusted by one of the most important people in this castle with it. She will not break her word.
In all her years of experience, Eunhee has never gone through a war.
In some ways, nothing changes. She wakes up at the same time every morning. Her empty bed doesn’t bother her, since even before leaving, Soonyoung was always on duty at the time she woke up anyway. She makes her way to your chambers, wakes you and dresses you. She brews your tea, peels your fruit. Lord Jeon enters your chambers when the sun is higher in the sky, announcing events for the day. You leave, and Eunhee busies herself in cleaning and laundering.
There’s differences, of course. You being the most glaring one of all.
You worry yourself to the point of frequent sickness. It becomes harder and harder to wake you up in the morning, and you whine petulantly, almost like a child, at the notion of getting up. You are foggy and unfocused when Lord Jeon talks. You barely eat any of the fruit you would usually devour, instead just asking for stronger and stronger tea every morning.
The only time you are present is during Court. That’s where you come alive, and Eunhee suspects it’s because you know the pressure to keep morale high is upon your shoulders only. The Queen Dowager has not been involved since the late King’s death, and her son had left weeks ago. You are the only Royal holding up the staff and the church, and it’s a responsibility you take very seriously. It lifts Eunhee’s spirits as well, watching them all gravitate more and more towards you, placing more weight on your words and your decisions. Any news from the frontlines comes straight to you, and you deal with it wonderfully. You censor what needs censoring, twist what needs twisting in order to keep spirits up and hope intact. Lord Jeon is impressed, and it makes him more enthusiastic. Every message with your sign off that reaches the commonfolk is met now with hope and support.
It’s a welcome change.
But you are slipping, Eunhee can see, when the chamber doors shut in the evening and you are left alone with her. You weep every day when there are no personal letters from Seungcheol, or any indication of his wellbeing. Eunhee has heard from Soonyoung once only, and that was a few weeks ago, but you have not heard a word from Seungcheol at all, and she knows it is only making your anxiety worse.
But there’s something else, and Eunhee is starting to realise that the changes within you have maybe more to them than originally thought.
She knows she is not an expert, but the signs are there. The unexplainable fatigue, the nausea, and constantly sour mood. The only one who can confirm it is the older women in the castle or a court physician. But she wouldn’t dare breathe a word about this to anyone. Because if her suspicions are correct, the news could be disastrous….
The letter weighs heavily against her side, like a hidden dagger ready to cut. She wonders if you deserve to know the contents now, if you are really carrying Seungcheol’s blood within you. Must she wait for the horrible possibility of the Knight dying? Why was Jeonghan insistent on the letter being opened only in such a dire circumstance? What difference will be made on the information inside by the Knight’s life or his death?
Three months into the war, Eunhee receives her first ever letter from her husband. She is overjoyed when she reads his familiar, untidy scrawl. She doesn’t even mind how much of a struggle it is to decipher some of the words. It only endears her, sets her heart at ease. Tucked inside the letter is another one, folded smaller and tighter, and the scrawl on it reads as a much neater, loopier handwriting.
“This is the only way I could get a letter to Her Majesty without anyone knowing”
Eunhee rushes to you with the letter tucked under the collar of her dress. She watches your face light up when she tells you about it, your hands shaking as you unfold it. You read over each word hungrily, your cheeks flushing pinker towards the end, tears gathering in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbles. But this time, your crying is not filled with distress, but rather, relief. Eunhee knows then, that she must do something about her suspicions. Somehow, she must confirm them. If you are truly with child, with Seungcheol’s child, then you must be made aware of it.
She finds a midwife and describes all your symptoms as her own. The midwife is thrilled to congratulate her, and so Eunhee knows for certain.
……………………………
‘The nights here are long and cold, but every second my heart beats with the hope of returning to the warmth of your arms.’
Seungcheol’s grip on the quill tightens when he hears the fluttering of the thick canvas cloth of his tent. He snatches the parchment as he turns, trying to discreetly stuff it into his sleeve. He relaxes when Jeonghan’s lithe frame catches his eye. He huffs and smooths the parchment out, turning back to it.
“Writing to Her Majesty?”
He doesn’t answer, turning the letter over so Jeonghan won’t see what he has written. His friend chuckles and flops down on the bag Seungcheol has been sleeping on for many months now. He winces at how stiff it is, pursing his lips.
“How’s the shoulder?” He asks.
Seungcheol shrugs, but even that movement causes his left side to twinge slightly in pain. The wound has healed as much as it possibly can with the available medical care. It has left an ugly scar running diagonally over his collarbone and left shoulder, but it does not hinder his movements, and that is all that matters.
“It’s fine. Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol mumbles. It is a surprise, since Jeonghan is supposed to be present in an encampment some ten kilometers back, the same one that the King resides in. He’s not assigned to the frontlines, because he’s not a fighter. He is to stay with the King and the war generals and solidify plans, communicating any changes with Seungcheol’s brigade as needed.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
Seungcheol places his quill down carefully. It is the only one he has, so he can’t afford to lose it. He gives his friend his full attention.
“Yesterday, His Majesty suggested a widespread attack on the eastern front.”
Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “What?”
“He won’t say it, but I can tell he has grown weary of being here. He wants to wrap it up-”
“That’s a bad idea, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol’s voice hardens. “We aren’t ready for that. We don’t have the manpower, or the weapons.”
“I know that-”
“Then get it through his head too.” He snaps. “He has already made foolish decisions. I’m not letting any more of my men die.”
Jeonghan sighs, not bothered by the borderline disrespect in Seungcheol’s tone. It has been months of back and forth between the King and his fiercest Garrison Commander. Seungcheol is fed up with his reckless antics and inability to take advice. Every day, his frustration builds, because the King refuses to coordinate with Mingyu, still personally affronted by what happened long ago at Mingyu’s coronation.
“His petulance will cost us this war.” He mumbles, jaw clenched. “I will not let a man who has never so much as received a paper cut dictate how I command the lives of my men who bleed on enemy swords every day.”
Jeonghan watches him, half weary. “He wants to see you.”
That makes Seungcheol scowl. “Why?”
“Because you keep disobeying his direct orders, and he is furious.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “That’s why you’re here.”
Jeonghan nods.
Seungcheol is tired, but more importantly, he is irritated and angry. He understands hierarchy and respect for the Crown. Hell, he has preserved its integrity his whole life. But war is a special circumstance, and when soldiers’ lives are on the line, he cannot justify making reckless decisions on personal whims. As he barks instructions at Joshua, his second in command, and prepares to depart his post to see the King, he is already sure that he will cross the line of disrespect if the King tries to impose his selfish orders. He’s not sure he cares.
“If you continue on this trajectory, you will get dishonorably discharged the second we get back.” Jeonghan jokes. It only makes Seungcheol scoff.
“He can’t get rid of me.”
Jeonghan only smirks, because he knows it’s true. If this war has done one thing, it has cemented the fact that Choi Seungcheol is indispensable. He is their only chance at victory, and that word has gone back to the mainland as well. Unbeknownst to those at the borders, Jeonghan’s intel has shared clearly that Seungcheol will emerge from this war as a studded hero and nothing less. His already massive popularity has only risen in the months he has kept their forces solidified on the border.
In circumstances like this, even a monarch can be rendered powerless.
The King’s encampment is repulsive to Seungcheol. Grand in a way that is inappropriate for the battlefront, and he wonders how much of their limited resources go into maintaining it every day, resources that should be used to benefit their troops. Seungcheol’s armor clinks as he moves. He has loosened it slightly, but not taken it off entirely. Months of being at war has left him on edge and paranoid.
None of his alertness can be reflected in the man on the makeshift throne, and not in his many generals surrounding a large table map of their borders. They are all relaxed in a way Seungcheol has not seen in months, almost as if war has never happened. It’s a sharp contrast that almost stuns him. The men are old, near withered, but some of them Seungcheol recognises as his predecessors, decorated soldiers whose input he respects. He understands the need for them, and he holds their orders in the highest regard. It’s just that he does not trust a boy who has not stepped foot out of his sheltered castle walls unless it is to be serenaded by his people.
Every day, he is disdainful that you are married to this man. But no matter. You are his in every way that counts.
Seojoon sits on his Throne, looking particularly disinterested as Seungcheol greets him and bows. He has barely lifted his knee off the ground before the man is speaking.
“The fact that I had to call you all the way here just to straighten you out is irritating.” His voice is grating. “But you are here now. And I want to know what gives you the right to refuse any of my explicit orders.”
Seungcheol takes a deep breath before answering, already put off by the tone. “Attacking the eastern border right now would be catastrophic for our men. We are in no position to land a successful strike.”
The King rolls his eyes with an ugly curl of his lip. “This is getting on my nerves.”
Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek and says nothing. His eyes meet Jeonghan’s, who stands to the side, but the man only makes a weary face. There’s no reasoning with the King. He killed his own father for the Throne, everyone in this room knows that. Expecting loyalty and consideration from him is folly.
“May I interject, Your Majesty.” One of the men in the room pipes up, drawing attention. Seungcheol recognises him as one of the senior members of the war committee. “If His Majesty King Mingyu’s troops were to rendezvous with us along the north, we might be able to launch a full scale attack that can be effective.”
Seungcheol frowns, contemplating. It’s true. While still not entirely wise, it is the current best option they have-
“How long will that take?” Seojoon asks.
The man hesitates. “Two weeks, at minimum.”
The King scowls again. “That is too long. We attack tomorrow at dawn.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps towards the man, jaw dropped. Jeonghan looks just as alarmed, and unrest spreads in the room as whispers. Seungcheol rises to his feet.
“Your Majesty-”
“I won’t hear any of your nonsense, Seungcheol.” He snaps. “It has been over four months. If I had known if would take this long-”
Seungcheol wants to interject again, to yell at the man that war takes years, and four months is nothing in comparison. But Seojoon is already standing and walking to the table, using his fist to rap on the wood as a judge would in finality.
Seungcheol walks to the table as well, standing next to the King. He glares at him, but for the first time, Seungcheol glares right back. He stands a few inches taller than the man, and it makes him feel a small sense of power.
“If we attack now, we will lose any ground we hold. They will retaliate, and I don’t have enough men to ensure anyone’s safety when that happens. Including yours.”
It’s almost like the whole room collectively holds their breath, watching the two men stare each other down. Seojoon’s eyes darken in indignation, the exact same color as Seungcheol’s.
“You will do as I say.” He spits out. “And you will not question me.”
Movement behind the King makes Seungcheol’s eyes shift. Jeonghan, standing farther off, shakes his head perceptibly, as if telling Seungcheol to stay quiet. So he stiffens his jaw and nods, even if every fibre of his being wants to do otherwise.
As he leaves the large encampment, his blood boils. He thinks of the incomplete letter under his blanket, and he knows any feeling he has poured into it might be in vain. He won’t be able to send it to you. He doesn’t even know if he will be alive at this time tomorrow.
Sometimes, the egos of the rulers result in tragic consequences, and Seungcheol is unsure if there is anything he can do to prevent them.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 8.5k
warnings (for this chapter): mild angst, some historical inaccuracy, mentions of death and conspiracy, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, mentions of war, forbidden love.
series masterlist
The bells begin ringing at sunrise.
They are not celebratory. They are muted and grave, signalling mourning. The air is cold, nearly nipping. Winter has fallen suddenly over the country in the last few weeks, and it brings with it an unnerving chill that settles in your bones.
You sit in front of your fireplace, watching the flames dance in it. It’s very early. Eunhee isn’t here. Yet you are awake, still in your night clothes, imagining how the cathedral might look like right now in the bleak winter morning under the gray, cloudy sky.
It is the day of your husband’s coronation.
Seungcheol told you last night about how rushed preparations have been, and how muted the ceremony will be. Black cloth draped over the cathedral doors, noblemen in furs of muted colors, hushed whispers as everyone mourns. The Prince, dressed in a cloak hastily fitted to him, the archbishop, who will conduct the ceremony in quick, sharp sentences. Nothing grand, nothing ceremonial, out of respect for their late King and his untimely demise.
You can imagine it all in your head. That is all you can do, since you will not be there physically.
You have always known you are a controversial figure within the walls of this castle, and you have never minded this fact. You do not care. Your controversy was your weapon to protect yourself from endless hurt. So it came to you as no surprise when Seungcheol told you that you would either be placed far back in the cathedral, or you would not be physically present for the ceremony at all. You had then said you would like to be left out. Rather that than sitting away from everyone like discarded jewelry. So here you are, in your chambers, awaiting Eunhee.
Over the last week, seamstresses have worked tirelessly to prepare your new attire. Grander, deeper colors, heavier cloth, what would fit a Queen Consort. You would not be officially crowned, since circumstances are so dire, but the statement is clear. You are now the ruling Queen, while your mother in law remains so only in name, no longer reigning. She has done nothing but weep and mourn her husband’s death, a true spectacle considering she never cared for him. But she did care for her place as the reigning Queen, and you know that is driving her grief more than the King’s death.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.
The castle is restless, on edge. It has been since the King’s death. Suspicions are high, towards the court councillors and towards the Prince, now King. For a man with no health concerns suddenly being afflicted by humors of the brain and meeting with Death is a pill difficult to swallow, and that leaves everyone questioning. No one dared speak it in open air though, since war is imminent and no matter what, a new King is needed. All mouths remain shut, but eyes shift. They gleam with mistrust.
Seungcheol still suspects your husband, almost explicitly so. He stays by your side as much as Royal duty and war preparation allows him. When he is not there, someone else always is. Someone he trusts. Often, it is Soonyoung, Eunhee’s husband, who stays outside your door on Seungcheol’s strict instructions. But others from the Royal Guard are there when Soonyoung can’t be. You are never left alone.
In an unprecedented move, Jeonghan advises you to dismiss your ladies-in-waiting, as a security measure. Everyone knows there is a certain level of distrust between you and them, and it has been there since the beginning. It would be very easy to weave them into a conspiracy against you since they have no loyalty to you.
“Losing the Queen Consort at a time like this could be disastrous.” He had said when he came to see you in your study. Seungcheol sat next to you, tense and uneasy with the conversation.
“While you are not yet with child, you are a symbol for the people that they will get an heir. We cannot lose that symbol. It’s all about optics.”
You wanted to quip back that you will never carry the heir for this Throne, but you kept your mouth shut.
“Nothing will happen to Her Majesty.” Seungcheol’s tone had been hard and unquestionable. “She’s under my protection. No one will lay a hand on her.”
Your heart had skipped a beat at his words. Jeonghan just smirked in a way that unnerved you.
Seungcheol has been tense and worried since the morning of the late King’s death. The possibility of war has become near certain, which puts him in a very intensive role as a garrison commander. The threat to your well being has added on top, leaving him with too much on his plate. Your words of placation don’t do much, even when he says he is fine. His shoulders carry his stress, tense and bunched, and a thin line lives permanently between his eyebrows, his lips pulled taut and face unmoving. You miss the softness of him, but you have not said as much. You do not want to burden him with any more than he already has.
Court that morning, after the coronation, is an important event for you. It is not just Eunhee, but another handmaid as well who helps dress you. The fabric is satin, the monarchy colors of deep maroon and gold, and you have to breathe deeper than you normally would. While you have always dressed to the nines, it will be even more grand now, reflecting your position as Queen Consort. You watch yourself in the mirror, heart beating fast. It hits you, for a brief second, that you have not come to terms with anything either. It has all been so sudden, so explosive. You are now reigning Queen. A controversial, foreign Queen, yes, but a Queen nonetheless.
Last night, before the Prince’s coronation, you had been introduced to Jeon Wonwoo, your new steward. He was a tall man with a stiff posture and raven black hair. He bowed to you deeply, dressed in court attire. Round spectacles set in a metal frame hung with a silver chain around his neck.
“Your Majesty.” His voice was a low, soft baritone. You nodded and gave a small smile.
“Lord Jeon is one of the Court’s most trusted.” Seungcheol had explained. “He will be taking care of your schedules, your personal affects, your finances and your appointments. He will handle anything you might need.”
This is what threw you off. Because before Wonwoo, all of this was handled by Seungcheol.
You had not said anything, just nodding as you willed your throat to not tighten. You understand that Seungcheol is overburdened, but he has been dedicated exclusively to you for the entire time you have lived in this castle. The thought of him not being around as much kills you. Especially after you’ve crossed boundaries with him, felt the heat of his touch. His lips.
You banish the thoughts from your head, blinking hard. Eunhee is still flitting around, making sure everything is perfect. Finally, when she steps back and bows, you take a deep breath.
Eunhee lets Wonwoo in five minutes later. He bows deeply. His spectacles are perched on the bridge of his nose. He peers at the parchment in his hands, informing you of the Coronation ending, and Court proceedings for the day. You bite the inside of your cheek and resist the urge to ask him where Seungcheol is. You wanted him here.
Your steward walks three paces behind you as you make your way to Court. Castle workers and staff bow deeply as you pass, the now reigning Queen. Your position in Court, your seat, is different now too. As you make your way to it, you feel like something is shifting in the air. Something is changing. Like one chapter closing and another beginning. This is the start of something new.
Yet you don’t feel invigorated.
Court is eventful, and you try to keep up with as much of it as possible. There is still a level of tension in the air, and your husband, now King, behaves in a way that raises eyebrows. There is not enough mourning in his words, not enough respect, and you can see the way his widowed mother’s jaw tightens, the way her eyes glisten. You have no love in your heart for her, but today, you feel it. The child she birthed, the only thing that gave her purpose, is crass to her and her former Crown. You cannot imagine how that must feel.
You vow to yourself to never let your only purpose be to bear an heir. You vow to yourself that you will care for more than just that.
You spot Seungcheol in Court along with other Knights. He is dressed in his ceremonials, maroon jacket and many golden medals embellishing his chest. You don’t look too long, turning away when something twinges in your heart. That same feeling from this morning. The dread of him pulling away. This does feel like a new chapter, but you didn’t want the old one to end so soon. Before it even properly began.
Breakfast is sordid, and you half-heartedly participate. No one but the King is unsuitably jovial. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you have to fight back the humorous yet horrific thought of what he has to put up with in recent weeks. As Chief Councillor, things cannot be easy, especially when he is advising someone who refuses to take any of it. You do not wish such a tedious task on anyone.
Wonwoo guides you through church obligations, staff changes and castle responsibilities for the rest of the day. The Queen Consort does, of course, hold her own Court. Surprisingly, you enjoy it. After being so helpless and discarded for so long, even something as obligatory and largely unimportant as a Queen’s Court is like a gift for you. It is little power, but it is coming to you after an entire life of having none, so you cherish it.
Part of the reason is that Seungcheol is there, as your Knight.
You do not interact with him directly, engaged with your clerks, noblewomen and church officials. But having him in your vicinity calms you. You keep your eyes off him, since any deviance would immediately be noticed in a setting like this. You keep things short and simple, not a fan of dawdling and dragging. Your steward seems to approve, nodding once it is over and you look at him expectantly.
“You did splendidly, Your Majesty.” He praises you. “To-the-point, but not crude. You hold authority. I am sure Court attendees were most surprised. You will have their respect in no time.”
You glow at the praise. Maybe this can be your purpose. Maybe something you do will actually hold weight.
Towards the time of sundown, you are left weary. It has been a busy day, and so you finally retire to your chambers. Wonwoo takes his leave, and you sink into your armchair, basking in the heat of the fireplace, just as you had started this day out, except this time, you are in heavy robes rather than your night dress.
You sit there for what feels like hours, but is likely only a few minutes. You think over everything that has happened, and how different things will be moving forward. Today was a taste of the rest of your life, you believe. And while part of you is happy at how things went, one thing is not to your liking, and you want to change that.
You rise from your seat and walk to the door, pulling it open.
Soonyoung is outside with another guard whose name you do not know. They both bow deeply to you.
“Soonyoung,” you speak, “can you please find Sir Choi for me? Tell him it is urgent.”
Soonyoung blinks and nods enthusiastically. “Of course, Your Majesty. Right away.”
He gestures to the other guard, who immediately sets off.
“When he arrives, send him in.” You continue. “No one else in or out. Tell Eunhee I will see her in the morning.”
Soonyoung seems surprised but bows regardless. You close the door and glide towards the fireplace again. You don’t sit, instead standing before it, letting it warm your cold fingertips. You count fifteen minutes before you hear a knock on your door. It slides open.
“Your Majesty.”
Your eyes flutter at the sound of his voice, like you’ve yearned for it. You close them briefly before turning around to look.
Seungcheol is dressed still in Court attire, padded jacket, slacks and leather shoes. His hair is parted down the middle, brushed off his forehead in dark curtains. A look of concern dawns on his handsome face. He looks around briefly, like he’s assessing the surroundings to find if something is wrong.
“You summoned me.” He closes the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”
You nod and smile, but it is bittersweet and barely there. “I pulled you from duty, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have. But I could no longer take it.”
That familiar dread comes back, encroaching on your heart as he watches you.
“I miss you terribly.”
You see the exact moment his face softens, the stoney expression melting into something more regretful. You watch him hesitate before he slowly reaches back, twisting his wrist. You hear a soft click as the door locks. Your heart skips.
Seungcheol moves closer to where you stand, joining you in front of the fireplace. You almost stiffen when his hands find your waist, but the relief is immediate. You sigh into him, his forehead meeting yours. His familiar scent floods your nose.
“I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty.” He mumbles. “I’ve neglected my most sacred oath to you. That is my mistake to bear.”
You feel his hair brush over your forehead. When you peer up at him, his eyes are soft and sure, like wet earth. You purse your lips, feeling particularly petulant after being near him but not having his attention the whole day.
“I doubt you feel any regret.” You quip. “Handing me off to Lord Jeon like I mean nothing.”
You are goading him, you know this, and he falls for it every time. He blinks and pouts in that way you love so much, and his hands on your waist tighten. He pulls your body closer. Your breath stutters.
“That is nonsense, Your Majesty.” His nose brushes yours. “My first priority is always you.”
The air charges. You feel his breath hit your lips. You feel like your nerves are on fire, and you cannot wait anymore. You push forward to press your mouths together.
He is quick to kiss you back, one hand finding the back of your head so he can tilt your face just slightly. It allows him to kiss you deeper, more desperately, and you feel once again his yearning for this moment. You curse at yourself for doubting him for even one second, that he would deliberately be staying away from you for any reason. How dare you be uncertain about the one person that has never once failed you? Especially when he runs his tongue so reverently over your bottom lip, when he sucks lightly at the plush of it, when he finally invades your mouth, tastes you wholly and truly, your torso arching into him as he supports your weight. You whine into him and you feel, more than hear, his breath hitch. You want to scold yourself.
“I was a fool.” Your voice muffles into his mouth, but he hears you regardless. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be around me. I was afraid you would not be my Knight anymore.”
He freezes. His lips leave yours. His eyes, wide with shock and, to your dismay, hurt.
“Your Highness.” He resorts to your old title in his incredulity. His voice shakes. “I would never.”
You open your mouth to assure him. To tell him that you know, that you were merely paranoid and insecure. But he doesn’t wait. He sinks to both knees, leaving you speechless as you watch him. His hands never leave you, sliding to your hips, encasing them. His forehead meets your stomach. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribs.
“By my faith, my sword and my honor, I live to serve your person for as long as I draw breath.”
Your hands shake as they meet his shoulders. Broad, strong, and always steadfast. Reliable. Your fingers wander to his neck, up to his ears, his hair. Soft, silky tresses move through the gaps in your digits. He looks up slowly, letting your hands card through his dark locks. His eyelids flutter when you trace his cheekbones with your thumbs.
“Please, never doubt me.” He whispers. “I’m yours only. I will live and die for you. I will bleed for you.”
The heat from the hearth is not nearly equal to how his words set your soul on fire. Your lips part, your eyes gloss, and you say the words that you never, ever imagined yourself saying out loud, but fantasized about too often in the depths of the dark night.
“Seungcheol.” You look down at your Knight, on his knees before you. “Bed me.”
His eyes flicker, he leans forward and places a kiss over the satin of your dress, right over your navel. You feel your face burn.
“Are you sure, Your Majesty?” He whispers into the cloth. “That is a line neither of us can redraw.”
You have never felt more sure of any decision you have made in your life. You nod.
“I have never wanted anyone.” You confess. “Not even my own husband. Even on my wedding night, I was nothing but nervous and anxious. The first time I felt desire-”
You peer down at him. He watches you.
“-was when I watched you across the castle courtyard.”
Recognition passes over his features. Slowly, he stands, eyes never leaving yours. It seems like the dam has been broken on your scandalous thoughts, because you keep speaking.
“When you kissed me in the carriage, I wished for you to have me right there.” You can see his ears turn pink. His lips part. Your own face is hot beyond bearing. His grip on your sides tightens. “I have been starved for your touch only. Every night, I dream of having you in my bed with me. Seungcheol, you said you want me too. So please, take me.”
He does not answer. Not verbally, at least. When his lips meet yours again, the kiss is fiery in a way that ignites every vessel in your limbs. His hands leave your body only for his arms to wind around your completely, pulling you tightly against his. The metal pieces on his uniform dig into you, but you do not care as he kisses your breath away.
“My Queen.” Your breath stutters at how deep his voice is. “It would be my greatest honor.”
The ground drops from underneath your feet when strong arms wind around your torso and legs, lifting you up. You circle your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and nuzzle into his cheek, laying a small kiss on it when your affection for him overwhelms you. His skin is hot beneath your lips, near feverish, but you don’t let up. Your surroundings swim, and finally, you are being laid carefully down on your mattress, the silk sheets cool under your heated figure.
For a second, no one speaks. Seungcheol’s eyes travel over your face before dipping. A sheepish look flits across his face.
“Your garments are…. endlessly complicated.”
You can’t help but giggle, some of your nerves breaking at his words. You feel more comfortable when you sit up and slide over the edge of the bed to stand again. You turn your back to him, arm twisting back to point to the lace ups of your bodice.
“Here.”
You feel his hands tug and pull, the cloth loosening enough to slide apart, revealing the corset underneath. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and your face flushes once more. Your mind has barely caught up to the desire coursing through your body, but it hits you for a brief second. You are about to unclothe in front of a man, by his hands. Your heart races.
You feel Seungcheol’s fingers on your bare shoulders as he pushes the satin off them, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. A little more tugging, and the skirt around your hips comes loose, the full drapes plopping on the ground. You feel your body stiffen.
Instead of undoing your corset next, you feel prickling at your scalp as Seungcheol pulls out the many hair pins holding your tresses up. One by one, they make small clicking sounds as he places them on the wooden table by your bedside. You feel the relief of loosened hair again. It brushes your shoulders, your back. You feel the corners of your lips twitch.
“I would almost assume you’ve done this before.” You comment. You feel his breath on your shoulder again as he laughs.
“Never.” He replies. “I was sworn to celibacy when I was brought up to the castle.”
That surprises you. While the thought of Seungcheol being with any woman makes your chest squeeze with disgust, you never expected him to be uninterested in them. He is a man, after all, a very attractive one at that, and you’ve heard many a woman in this very castle who has entertained the idea of him in her head.
“But I have watched you.” He pulls you out of your thoughts. “I’ve watched the way this fabric clings to you, the way your pins keep your hair from moving even an inch. Every part of you, I have gazed upon with scandalous intentions. I hope you can forgive me.”
That gets to you. It makes your breath hitch. Faintly, you feel his touch, a finger tracing down the line of your spine, just over the crisp material of your corset. A tug, and you feel the first ring loosen.
“What do you think about?” You urge him on. You want to know more.
Another tug. You can draw a deeper breath.
“This.” Seungcheol whispers. “Your skin. I always imagined it to be so soft. Unblemished. Untouched.” His hand runs over the tender lines that the corset has left on you. You shiver visibly.
Three more tugs sets the corset loose. Your torso relaxes, and you reach up to pull it away. It falls on top of the mess of skirts surrounding your feet. Soft hands run over your waist, just over the last, thin garment that separates you from him. You take in a shaky inhale when his lips press small kisses on your shoulder, his hands exploring. You can feel the heat of his body on your back. Your heart still hammering, you gather the courage to turn around.
Seungcheol’s eyes are soft, like glowing embers, as they run over your body. You distract yourself by reaching up, tugging slightly on the lapels of his jacket. He understands, undoing the gold buttons and tugging the heavy jacket off, revealing a plain, black top underneath. Even without all the glamor of gold adorning him, he looks just as handsome, all smooth lines and beautiful, pale skin.
Arms wind around your waist, and Seungcheol lifts you from between the mess of satin cloth surrounding your feet and ankles, plopping you on the bed instead. You hold tightly to him, making his own body follow yours as your back meets the mattress. You can’t stop staring, barely blinking, because you don’t want to miss a single moment of this. There is no anxiety, no nerves, only heated anticipation and adoration.
But Seungcheol’s touch is heavier, more longing than adoration. There’s reverence in it as he kisses you again, his legs framing your hips, one elbow digging into the bed beside your face while his other hand runs down your body to reach the hem of your chemise, brushing the outside of your thigh. Something intense burns in his touch, in his lips as they press near harshly against yours, like he has a point to prove.
“My Queen.” He rasps again. You barely hold back a whimper. “This is more to me than just bedding you. This…. this is worship.”
His lips leave your mouth, trailing down your chin. His tongue peeks out, runs in a wet line down the column of your throat as your head leans back. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it. His hand dips under the hem of your slip, pushes it up to brush over your bare hip. It traces the line of your bottoms, the last piece of cloth between him and where you need him the most.
He speaks with every press of his lips into your neck, every dig of his teeth into your skin.
“Your honor is my cause.” He whispers. He licks over your carotid as it jumps wildly. “Your safety is my vigil.”
His hand dips into the waistband of your bottoms. It traces over your hipbone, moves to the center, until you feel his palm run just over your mound. “Your word is my law.”
You realise, even through the thick fog slowly settling over your head, that these are not random words. It is his oath of fealty, the one that he took while on one knee before you when he became your Knight.
“Not for glory, nor reward, nor land do I swear this, but because my heart knows no truer allegiance than to you.”
You moan. A shaky, thin sound that fills the air, muffled only by the heavy curtains surrounding your four poster bed, keeping you and Seungcheol hidden from the rest of the world. The sound seems to egg him on. His fingertips dig just lightly into the soft give of your stomach. His lips lay a final kiss under your ear before trailing back to your waiting mouth. When his eyes meet yours again, they are devoid of irises, dilated with his arousal, pitch black pools that you would willingly fall into.
You will never question his loyalty ever again.
“May I unclothe you?” He asks, breath hitting your lips. You give him a half-smile.
“That’s what you have been doing already.”
When he smiles, you see minute crinkles on the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen them this close, and you fight the urge to pluck at them with your mouth.
“This will leave you bear, Your Majesty.” He sighs. “I fear myself not worthy of that sight.”
You shake your head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It’s silky soft as always, and you watch his eyelids flutter when your nails scratch his scalp.
“No one is worthy except you.”
When your chemise is pulled up, off your body and discarded to the side, you feel your skin burn. Seungcheol’s mouth parts, his eyes are hungry in a way you have never seen before. He lets out a small noise, his first of the night, a low groan from within the depths of his chest.
“I’m not worthy.” He repeats. “But I am weak.”
He leans down, his lips brushing over your collarbone. Your breath hitches. They travel down, between the valley of your breasts, tracing your sternum. They deviate to the side, sliding over the swell of your chest to reach your nipple. You gasp when his tongue runs over the hardened nub. He pauses for a split second, then encloses his lips around it.
He explores your body slowly, sucking, nipping, licking, kissing. He pays attention to every skin cell, every hair follicle, and anything that escapes his mouth is captured by his quick fingers. His forefinger and thumb pinches and rolls your unoccupied nipple between them until it is perked and tingly. He sucks so hard you are afraid he will somehow draw milk, against all logic. He moans into them like they are quenching his thirst, and the ticklish, electric sensation in your lower stomach intensifies. When you squirm and your legs twitch, you are horrified to realise that something wet is building up between your legs.
But you can’t stop it. You don’t want to. If he stops now, you might cry.
He keeps going until you’re so sensitive it almost hurts. When he pulls away, finally, he blows air on them. And you cry out.
“Sshh.” He reaches up to press his forehead to yours. “You make such pretty sounds, but being too loud will have consequences.”
You shake your head. “It’s only Soonyoung outside.”
Seungcheol hums. “And what? You want him to know?”
You flush at the thought. Seungcheol’s eyes widen just a little. A thick eyebrow ticks up.
“Oh?” His voice is smooth like butter. You clench subconsciously. More wetness dampens your core. He reaches down again, tracing his tongue over the shell of your ear.
“Does Her Majesty want the guard to hear her getting worshipped?” His breath hits your ear and sends shivers down your spine. You arch into him, feeling your bare, sensitive nipples brush his clothed chest. “Do you think he deserves to hear the beautiful sounds you make when I touch intimate parts of you?”
You can barely get your words out, your head spinning. You can feel Seungcheol’s palm splay over your stomach, traveling down at a torturously slow pace.
“You are the only one who gets to touch.” You whimper. “Maybe he should know that.”
A chuckle. A deep, throaty sound that shoots like lightening to the area between your legs. Seungcheol bypasses your core and instead runs his hand down your thigh to grip your knee. Finally, he tugs at it, pulling it apart.
Cold air hits the heated area. Seungcheol shifts, maneuvering himself so that he settles between your now open legs. You flush at the thought of being open to him like this, but lust eggs you on. You watch as he stares, and nearly moan when his tongue runs over his bottom lip, eyeing your nude body hungrily.
“May I taste you?” He asks.
Your eyes widen. You feel yourself stiffen slightly.
“Down…. down there?”
It looks like a struggle for him to tear his eyes away so he can look at you. He nods. You hesitate. You’re unsure of why he would want to do that. It seems he reads your mind.
“Your nectar, your essence, just a taste of it will sustain me, Your Majesty.” He rasps. His voice is pleading. Your throat tightens at the desperation in his tone. “I beg of you. And I promise, I will bring you to heights of pleasure you’ve never known before. Will you trust me?”
That’s not even a question. There is no one within these four walls, and even beyond them, that you trust more than him. So you nod, because on the question of trust, you will never doubt Seungcheol.
He positively perks up at your granted permission. When he slides down your body, your heartbeat picks up again. You try to breathe deeply so you don’t tense up as he carefully and gently pulls your thighs apart. It feels…. dirty….. but something about it thrills you too. The thought of his mouth on your most private parts is scandalous, but something in your loins burns at the notion. When you feel his breath on your lower lips, you jump.
Seungcheol chuckles. “Relax.”
You try to take a deep breath, but your Knight chooses that moment to kiss your folds. He starts soft and slow, just running his lips over them, pressing small kisses and nips on them. Then, you feel something hot and wet, his tongue, poke through the slit, small licks that make your lips part as you gasp. You stare at the delicate maroon cloth above you that is draped over the frame of your four poster bed, eyes nearly rolling when he finally licks a thick stripe from your twitching entrance to the apex of your lips. You whine.
“Good?” His breath hits your wet core again. You nod, unable to speak.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
His hold on your thighs tightens. He pushes them apart more, leaving you open before him, and dives in again, lapping over you hungrily. His lips close around your sensitive bundle of nerves and suck. You almost scream, clamping your mouth shut with your hands before you can. Despite the thrill of everything, you don’t really want anyone to hear you. Your eyes water, your features pinching as waves of pleasure roll up from your cunt and through your body. Every one of your reactions spurs Seungcheol on even more. He licks and sucks like his life depends on it, like he’s hungry for your taste. Maybe he is, because he groans into the sopping wet mess. His tongue runs down until it pokes at your hole. You tense at the feeling, and then the wet appendage slides in, poking in and out until your opening is loose enough for him to lick your insides too. His nose nudges your clit, and your whine is muffled into your hands.
Every time his hair brushes your inner thighs, every time you feel his hands pull your legs open and keep them there, or when his broad shoulders brush the back of your legs, you flush, overwhelmed at the thought of him devouring you like this. The knot in your core feels like it is snowballing, getting bigger and bigger, tighter, until one of your hands leaves your mouth so you can claw at Seungcheol’s shirt and shoulder. You kick, try to squirm away as the pleasure becomes near blinding, but his hold on you only tightens. He holds you down, sucks at your nub over and over until you can’t warn him anymore.
You wail, muffled by the back of your hand as the dam breaks. Tears escape the corners of your eyes and slide down the sides of your face. Your back arches off the bed, your entire body tightening and releasing as it overwhelms you like a tidal wave washing over your writhing body. His lips don’t slow, his tongue never rests, and he keeps going until you whine, exhausted, and push him again, less forcefully this time, since your limbs feel like liquid. This time, he finally pulls away, sitting up and lowering your shaking legs carefully to the bed.
He is a vision.
His face is flushed entirely pink, but particularly dark on the apples of his cheeks. Despite the cold air, sweat has built up on his temples because of the sweltering heat between your thighs. His lips are swollen and dark, covered with shiny, clear liquid. It swaths over his jaw and neck too, drenching him, but he seems unbothered by it. His tongue pokes out to run over his lips, lapping up whatever he can find on his face. Your own feels like it’s on fire.
“Good?” He asks again.
You don’t even know what to say. You just nod jerkily, trying to catch your breath. Seungcheol chuckles.
“I dream of this, you know?” He says, sliding up your trembling body. “When other men speak of the women they bed, I wonder about you. How you would taste on my tongue. I wake up from those dreams overwhelmed and aroused, always.”
He settles between your legs again, pressing his forehead to yours. “No dream can compare to reality.”
When he kisses you, you taste yourself on him. Not exactly sweet, but not sour either, and you wonder if he is exaggerating. But his actions and his words say otherwise, and you believe him completely. You feel his hands massage your inner thighs, digging pleasantly into the aching muscle. They slide up to the junction of where your legs meet your hips, one hand finding your twitching core again.
“We can stop if you want.” He offers. “It might be too much for you.”
You shake your head. “Want you, Seungcheol.”
He moans, nods, and his fingers trace your slit to prod at your entrance. You’re drenched, half with your own release and half from his spit, so he circles the opening with the pad of his middle finger before slowly breaching it. Your jaw goes slack.
He watches every reaction carefully, making sure you are in no pain as his finger slides in and out, in and out. Just one, but he’s still so careful. He slides it to the base of his knuckles, pauses for a split second, and then curls it up. You gasp.
This sensation is entirely different than the one before. While that felt unimaginably good, this hits deeper, like it is making you feel good from the inside out. Subconsciously, your legs spread even more, like you want to pull him in further. You pant, eyelids fluttering, hips undulating. Seungcheol’s keen eyes follow every movement.
“More?”
You nod vigorously, making his lips tick up a little. He slides another finger in, joining the first one in pumping carefully in and out. His fingers are thick, and now you feel the stretch on your gummy walls. He takes it slow, letting you adjust. You moan quietly when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing little circles on it to make the stretch feel better. Slowly, the slight twinge of pain disappears, replaced by pleasure even more amplified than before.
Seungcheol’s other arm, that he is using to prop himself up by your side, shifts a little. His hand finds your hair, splayed around your head like a dark halo, and caresses tenderly through the strands. His fingers, buried deep in your cunt, curl and prod, until you yelp at the spot they hit, and then he rubs exclusively over it until you’re whimpering and crying, one hand gripping his wrist like a vice while the other fists his shirt.
He adds a third finger. You have no time to warn him before your back arches, your eyes roll, and another high assaults your every sense. It is even more intense than the first one, and you nearly weep. He uses his own weight to keep your body from jerking too much, and he whispers gentle praises in your ear as you ride the waves. When it wanes, you’re left breathless and shaky, nearly disoriented.
“Beautiful.” He breathes. “You’re a sight no one deserves to lay eyes on.”
When his fingers pull out, they make a squelching sound that leaves you flushed. But you’re caught even more off guard when Seungcheol immediately plops them into his mouth, licking them clean of all your juices. He groans in approval, licking over any that runs down the back of his hand. You swallow tightly as you watch him. Heat stirs in you at how handsome he looks. Slightly disheveled, but endlessly dreamy like this. You want to see all of him.
“Take your clothes off.” You manage to get out.
Seungcheol has spoken a lot about thinking of you, but he is unaware that you’ve thought extensively of him too. When he tugs his shirt off, you’re reminded of the times you’ve seen his cheeks glow bright in the sun, imagining how his bare shoulders would look under that same light, just as pale as the rest of him. When he undoes his slacks and tugs them off, your mouth drops, and you remember imagining this too, in the very depths of the night, shameful, taboo thoughts of what he looks like completely naked. You knew he would be glorious nude, his broad build visible even through his clothes, but you never imagined this, never anticipated that he would be so big below the belt. Long and curved, thicker than you could have ever conjured in your inexperienced mind. It is flushed dark, leaking at the tip and running in a clear liquid down the mushroom head. When he wraps a hand around it and tugs, you hear his breath tremble in relief.
You don’t think before reaching down, your fingertips brushing his hand, sliding under it so you can replicate his movements. He groans, shakes his head.
“You don’t have to-” He chokes, and his back almost curls in on himself when you squeeze him slightly. You bite your lip as you watch him, how his face crumples and his moans rise an octave. Something runs through you like a thrill, a form of power, in your ability to reduce him to this.
Your mouth waters. You wonder if you can taste him like he tasted you.
Before you can ask, he shuffles forward again, tugging your legs up to settle closer to your core. Anticipation curls in your stomach at the thought of being filled with something so thick and girthy, dread mixed with excitement. Your hand is still moving, almost on its own accord, when he finally takes over, squeezing at the base a little before he runs it up your sensitive slit. You twitch.
He looks up at you in question one last time. You nod.
The first breach has you sharply inhaling, gritting your teeth as his head pops inside. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks.
“Relax.” He whispers, thumb circling your clit. You breathe out, trying to soften your core, and he slides in a bit more. He does it little by little, playing with your body to take your mind off it, until you feel the last inch sink into you. His hips meet yours, skin flush together. Finally, he moans wantonly.
“Lords above.” He chokes. “You’re…. fuck.”
You almost gasp. Seungcheol has never sworn before you. Never. His lack of inhibition now makes you whimper, your hands clenching in the silk sheets under you. His hips twitch, then he pulls out, almost to the very tip, sinking in slowly again. He watches it with barely disguised awe, doing it again and again, watching your hole expand with every slide of him to the base. Your eyes roll, revelling in the sensation of being filled like this, his shaft pressing into every part of your spongy walls as it drags in and out.
Minutes pass, and he slowly picks up the pace. You gasp and moan, back arching. You hear the plop noise his skin makes when it comes in contact with yours, the stretch and give of your pussy as he fucks into you faster and faster. The bed curtains swish as the bed moves under the force of him. You can see his muscles shift and flex with every movement, and the sight of him, combined with every movement, makes you whimper and cry.
“Seungcheol.” Your voice trembles.
“You feel so good.” He gasps, beats you to the punch. “How long I have wanted this, my Queen. How terribly I have wished to feel you wrapped around me like this.”
Your jaw goes slack when he hits the same spot with his cock that his fingers found not too long ago. You clench hard. His voice cracks.
“Dreamed of this for so long.” He babbles. “You’re tighter than anything. I can’t believe- can’t imagine-”
When his hands give out, you feel his weight on your chest, his arms sliding under your body to hug you tightly to his own. A pleasant feeling, bare skin against bare skin, and his heart pounds so hard you can perceive it through your own chest.
“-I’ve been the only one to feel this.” His pace turns frantic. “No one else. Just me.”
You nod, even though his face is buried in your neck and he can’t see you. “Only you.”
He moans into your sweaty skin, laps at it with his tongue. He ruts into you like he’s desperate for it.
“Only me. I get to have your body like this. Your pretty cunt, all mine. My Queen, can I fuck you like this every day? I can’t go without it, not after knowing. I must have you. I must have you-”
When you come, it is with a sob that you muffle in his bare shoulder, your teeth digging harshly into his skin. His pace stutters and he curses again, words you have never heard before but can tell are not meant for public speech, as well as more praises for how well you take him, how you’ve molded your pussy to his shape, how your body will recognise him now, how much he loves you….
He floods your insides with white hot liquid, and you bask in the feeling of it. His flesh trembles under your splayed palms. He ruts into you, slower, less intense now, just as needy, as he slowly comes down. The thick, strained cords of muscle in his back gradually relax under your touch as your fingertips dance over him. Your breaths slow, regulating as the seconds tick by.
All is silent. He presses soft kisses to your neck. Finally, his arms loosen and slide out from under you, separating your bodies enough for him to look into your eyes. His are soft and pliant, warm, sleepy. When he smiles, it is lazy and slow, softer than you’ve ever seen on him. You giggle, body feeling pleasantly heavy.
When he pulls out and stands, you feel strangely empty, turning on your side as your sore muscles relax. You blink as you watch him turn to grab the sheets on your bed to cover your naked body.
“You have a tattoo.” You state.
Seungcheol smiles a bit sheepishly, nodding. “It is unusual, I’m aware. I got it a long time ago, during a trip to a foreign land when I was younger.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, standing. Your eyes linger on the dark tree etched just below the back of his neck. It looks sturdy, and it shifts when he moves.
“Drink and bad decisions.” He mumbles. “I am just grateful it can be hidden easily.”
Your fingers itch to trace it with your hands. “I like it.”
He turns to you quizzically. “You do?”
You merely nod and smile. His eyes twinkle.
Seungcheol putters around the room as you curl into the sheets and watch him. He pours a glass of water, downing it and pouring one for you as well, which he gently coaxes down your parched throat. You watch him gather your discarded dress and splay it over your armchair. You wave your hand at it in dismissal.
“Eunhee will take care of it in the morning.” You mumble.
He finds your night dress fairly easily, and helps you slip into it. Every movement with him feels natural, even though the act of him handling your clothes and dressing you is deeply intimate. Nothing can compare to what you two just did while tangled up in each other’s limbs, so this all seems trivial. You pout a little when you watch him tug his clothes on, and he only chuckles at the sight.
“I can’t be here in the morning, Your Majesty.” He explains, seating himself on the edge of the mattress to run an affectionate hand over your hair. “I’m almost certain Soonyoung heard everything, but we can trust him completely. However, I’m not sure things will fare well for us when your steward shows up tomorrow and finds me here.”
You make a face and huff a little. Seungcheol lays a soft kiss on your cheek and stands up. Searching for his boots.
“Tomorrow night, then?” You ask instead, remembering the slew of words and sentences he threw out during your tryst about getting to do this every day. The thought of it already excites you, and the way he smiles, the cute indent in his cheek amplified, it seems he feels the same.
“Tomorrow night.” He promises.
When he’s ready to leave, he leans over you and kisses you one last time, deep and intense, his hands splaying over your waist and sides, gripping any part of you he can find. You tug at his hair, tongue gliding wetly over his as he groans into your mouth, muffling your own whimpers. When he pulls away, you feel dizzy.
“Tell Eunhee to do something about your neck.” He rasps, and you feel his thumb run over the skin at the junction of your shoulder, inches above your collarbone.
When your handmaid shows up the next morning, you are sheepish. She says nothing except to give you a tiny smile, powdering you more than she usually would, in an effort to hide the dark blotch your Knight left marring your skin. When you question her lack of reaction, she just shrugs, but something clever twinkles in her eye.
“Soonyoung might have mentioned something when he got home this morning.” She quips. You can’t help but feel giddy and mildly embarrassed.
“You won’t tell?”
You know she won’t. She is your most trusted apart from Seungcheol. Her face softens as she laces you up, and you see her shake her head over your shoulder in the mirror that you stand in front of.
“You deserve to feel happy.” She replies, simply. You don’t have time to say anything more when there’s a knock on your door and Sir Jeon walks in with the agenda for the day in his hand.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.9k
warnings (for this chapter): angst, hurt/comfort, feelings of loneliness and isolation, humiliation, tears, rebellion, some fluff, may have historical inaccuracies, mildly suggestive content, some politics and mentions of war, mentions of death.
series masterlist
One year and one month after your wedding, you receive a letter from your older brother.
It is held gingerly in Seungcheol’s hands one morning when he comes to your chambers to give you a rundown of the schedule for the day. You are not one to receive much correspondence, so you notice the sealed parchment in his hand immediately, raising an eyebrow.
“It is from your brother.” Your Knight says, a shadow passing over his face. You freeze, your cup of morning tea halfway between your lap and your mouth. You did not expect Mingyu of all people to write to you, especially because he had not reached out since the one and only letter he wrote to you went unanswered over a year ago. Truthfully, you feel like you have nothing to say to your brother. You believed for a long time that he was your only well-wisher in the castle you grew up in, only to realise that he selfishly just wanted to marry you off to scum so he could inherit a stable Crown. You haven’t spoken to him since you left.
You hold a hand out for the letter. Seungcheol hesitates. “Are you sure, Princess?”
You give him a dry look, one he has gotten very used to as part of your usual antics. Antics you reserve only for him and your handmaid Eunhee, who is currently peeling fruit for you. Anyone else would call you disrespectful and not a graceful, well-trained Princess. But Seungcheol would never judge. He likes it when you are authentic to yourself; he has stated that multiple times.
The parchment is warm and your hands are stable as you peel off the wax seal and unfold the letter. Mingyu’s familiar, neat scrawl makes something claw at your throat. You read the letter at a more rushed pace than you normally would, because despite everything, you want to know what he has to say. Then you read it again. Then a third time. Neither your Knight nor your handmaid say anything.
Then you finally lower the letter to your lap, and take a deep breath.
“My parents have passed away.”
Eunhee freezes, head shooting up to look at you. Seungcheol’s posture stiffens in the chair where he sits. His mouth has dropped open.
“He’s-” You swallow tightly when you hear your voice waver. “He’s inviting me to attend his coronation next month.”
Seungcheol reaches for the letter. “May I?”
You let it drop into his hand. You have no secrets from him.
Seungcheol reads over the letter carefully, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stare at the flames dancing in your fireplace. You hear him sigh and fold the parchment, gesturing to Eunhee. Silently, Eunhee sets down the plates she’s holding and leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a careful click.
“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol asks once you’re alone, voice low. You take a deep breath, trying to detangle the mess of thoughts in your head.
You were never close with your parents. Your mother had no intention of having another child after she had already birthed an heir, and the only reason she was willing to have more was to have another son in case the Crown fell upon him. Her reaction to your birth was apathy, to put it mildly. And she had maintained this indifference your entire life. You were raised in the hands of maids and other noblewomen. Your father was a busy man, and you would often go months without exchanging two words with him. This news of their deaths brings back memories that are not very fond, reminding you of the insignificance you felt your entire life, and how difficult it was to finally make your spine rigid, to make your words have meaning. Years of insecurity and feelings of worthlessness had to be undone for this.
“I don’t know. I am shocked, I suppose.” You tilt your head, another question entering your mind. “How come I heard it straight from Mingyu? Wouldn’t he have sent a messenger from the castle as soon as it happened?”
Seungcheol nods. “Normally, yes. But you are aware that it is not a reassuring state of affairs between this monarchy and your previous one.”
Right. You do know that. Your refusal to acknowledge this marriage, to consummate it or pay respect to its sanctity, has meant that your parents’ efforts to form political ties were in vain. The political stability guaranteed by this union did not stand strong. Tensions have risen. You have been a thorn in the side of the reigning King and Queen, as well as your husband, the Crown Prince, so any alliance formed with your blood family is essentially null and void, and exists only on paper. You know your married family is furious at your refusal to comply, which makes them unwilling to cooperate for any sort of relations with your blood family. The only reason you are still in this castle as a Crown Princess is because you are wedded in the eyes of the Church, and no matter how badly your husband and his mother would like to get rid of you, the Church elders and court officials will not let that stand.
There is, also, the fact that none of the Prince’s mistresses seem to be getting pregnant. If this monarchy has any hope of getting an heir, they must hold on to you, or the royal bloodline will die. So all these circumstances, no matter how atrocious, have given you a weapon, leverage, to hold your position. While there are parts of you that are unsure about yourself, that will always be doubtful of your place, you are much more solid on your feet than you used to be when you first arrived here.
In big part, this confidence comes from the man sitting in front of you right now.
That night one year ago, while on his knees and his forehead pressed to your leg, Seungcheol had sworn his life and his loyalty to you in a gesture that stays with you to this very day. Seungcheol recognised a fire in you that everyone always dismissed as petulance and immaturity. But to him, that fire is strength, it is resilience. He believes mental armor is just as, if not more, impenetrable than physical one. And over the last year, he has helped you build it up to what it is today. Your no-nonsense attitude that keeps your enemies under your thumb is all thanks to him and his blind faith in you.
“Nowhere near that, Your Highness.” He always protests when you show your gratitude. “Your strength is yours alone. You just needed to know how to harness it.”
“And you’re the one who taught me that, Sir Choi.” Your voice is teasing. He huffs.
“Please do not call me that. You know it sounds too pretentious to me.”
You grin and nudge him. “I know. That’s why I call you it. Watching you pout is endlessly amusing.”
“You sound like Jeonghan.”
That makes you laugh.
Seungcheol has loosened up a lot after being in your service for so long. He meets your eyes, and is unafraid from voicing his opinions, because you enthusiastically encourage it. When you are playful, he indulges it and even plays along to the best of his ability. But throughout it all, he doesn’t forget his duty. He protects you fiercely, not just from physical attacks, but verbal ones too. Seungcheol has a lot of influence among the Royal Guard, since he is a garrison commander and has lived in the castle all his life. Most people are afraid of him, and so they don’t speak ill of you directly. Any area not within his jurisdiction can easily be dealt with by Jeonghan, who is slated to be the future Chief Councillor to the Crown. You often like to think of it as forming a shield between you and the outside world, and as long as Seungcheol is in your immediate vicinity, you feel completely safe.
It is a no-brainer that your Knight will come with you to attend your brother’s coronation. What you are endlessly displeased by is the fact that your husband, Seojoon, will be joining you as well.
“He makes my skin crawl.” You mumble as you stand by your carriage while Eunhee arranges your seating to be as comfortable as possible. Seungcheol, who stands one pace behind you, hums sympathetically.
“My deepest apologies, Princess. But the implication of him not being there could be catastrophic. We cannot risk that. If your brother’s nation has any more unrest, or if his enemies realise our alliance with him is weak, it could push them to the brink of war.”
You nod, because you know he’s right. Your home country has always struggled, but it has been particularly harsh for the last few years, with neighboring countries eyeing the territory. Despite the weak political ties, there was still an alliance on paper there, and your brother going to war would pull your country into it too.
“Besides,” you feel Seungcheol’s voice lower a few decibels, and he leans a little closer to you, “the Prince’s image needs rehabilitation.”
You pull your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling. You have heard the whispers of the Prince’s reputation. His indulgence in worrying amounts of mead, his rowdy gaggle of hunting companions, and the endless lines of mistresses cannot be contained within the castle. Word spreads, especially between workers who go in and out of the castle, and while your own standing with the public isn’t favourable, it doesn’t matter as much as the Prince’s. You are, after all, disposable, in the Queen’s words. Something she never fails to remind you of. But the Prince needs to be favored, since he has to take the throne. He needs this more than you.
As you wait for the carriage to be prepped, you wander along the walls of the gardens, admiring the new bloom of flowers. Servants move between the convoy, carrying luggage and tending to horses. Seungcheol is busy organising the guard that would escort you, making sure there are no cracks in their formation. He is in full armor, which you rarely see inside the castle. Large plates of steel cover his front, arm and legs. It clinks only slightly as he moves, fitted perfectly to his body. When you feel your breath slow as you watch him, you know you must look away.
You have that questionable habit. You like to stare at your Knight.
The sun hits his dark hair and makes it look a lighter brown than usual, standing out more against his pale skin. The armor gleams, and a small layer of sweat is forming on his forehead. His voice is harsh as he barks orders, booming timbre that reaches you even though you stand afar. You look away because you are in public, and you know people will notice. You already know of the rumors. There are many explanations about why you refuse to let the Prince bed you, and one of them is that you already have a lover, and that you are an unfaithful, scarlet woman.
You don’t pay heed to the rumors. Your name is already disgraced. You no longer care, as long as no one says it to your face. And Seungcheol won’t let that happen.
You turn your eyes to the rest of the convoy as the crowd gets denser. Eunhee is instructing the guards handling your personal luggage. Jeonghan is talking to another man towards the tail end of the carriages. Standing some far off are three women, and you feel your blood run cold as you recognise them.
Concubines. More particularly, your husband’s.
You would recognise them anywhere, particularly Hana. She has a certain reputation within the castle walls, especially in regards to you, since she holds you in no authority and is openly disrespectful. Seungcheol loathes her blatant disregard of you, but the favor she incurs from the Crown Prince is unquestionable. She wears jewelry meant only for royals, bought personally by your husband. It is another reason why the Prince is not liked; he has no respect for the chastity of royal titles. He treats her, a commoner, with more regard than she could ever deserve. She walks through the castle halls like she owns them, wearing layers too scarce for a woman and causing scandal, badmouthing you loudly. She was not trained by royal standards, so she is mannerless. Noblemen and women hate her, but she cares not because she lays with the Heir Apparent at night.
She boils your blood.
Before you can say anything or react, the three women are shown to a carriage at the end of the line. They step into it, talking and whispering among themselves. You bite the inside of your cheek and beeline your way to Jeonghan, your dress billowing in the wind behind you. The man he is talking to immediately falls silent as you approach, and Jeonghan turns to see what has happened. He smiles when he realises that it’s you.
“Princess,” he greets warmly, “a pleasure as always.”
“He’s taking his women?” Your voice is hard as stone, ignoring his words. Jeonghan stares, gesturing to the man behind him to dismiss him. The man bows and leaves quickly. He turns back to you.
“His orders were explicit.”
“My birth family does not indulge in concubines.” Your voice shakes more the longer you speak. “If my husband comes with me to attend my brother’s coronation and brings concubines with him, I will be humiliated.”
Jeonghan’s face softens. He looks truly apologetic. “I told him that. I strongly advised against it, because it will only damage his reputation more. He…. didn’t heed my words.”
Your teeth grind so hard it sends a shooting pain through your jaw. You blink away hot tears before they can fall. You’re too emotional to notice Seungcheol’s concerned stare at a distance, or how he watches you closely.
It has taken so long for you to be relatively normal about the situation you are living in. Every once in a while, you still stain your pillow wet with your tears, and it took time, but by now you have more or less accepted your fate. This, however, might be too much to bear. Your old kingdom, the people who watched you grow as a princess within their grounds, could not see this. You could not stand for them to witness the constant shame you endure. You have nothing, but you still have your self respect. This will be too much.
Seungcheol seems on guard and rigid as you climb into your own carriage while you do everything in your power to swallow the terrible knot in your throat. You know your distress is making him uneasy, but you’re too busy trying to keep your composure while out in public. Your heart is pounding, and ugly emotions of panic and humiliation are swelling in your chest. Eunhee works quietly to settle you, and before she can ask if you need anything, you are already waving her off. As soon as she leaves the carriage, your face crumples.
Hot, thick tear tracks roll down your cheeks readily, as if they have been waiting. You try to tamp your sobs, your shoulders shaking with the effort. Your napkin gets wet with your tears as you wipe them, but they show no signs of stopping. You don’t know how to suppress your onslaught of feelings. It’s too much to take.
In the distance, you can hear the man at the head of the convoy call for all to move. The door opens. Seungcheol steps in and sits opposite to you. He freezes, takes one look at your face, and his own hardens. You are sure that Jeonghan has told him about the situation, but this is still new to him. Despite how close you are, your Knight has never seen you cry.
“I’m sorry you have to witness this.” You hiccup shakily as the carriage starts moving. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks, a noticeable movement, and he shakes his head quickly.
“Your Highness need not apologise.” He says, and you’re nearly shocked into silence at how his voice shakes. Is it from anger? You cannot tell. You’ve never heard Seungcheol waver. You sniffle and watch him. Somehow, his reaction quietens your own tears. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look at you, but his leather gloved hands are curled into fists on his thighs. He appears agitated, and you know instinctively that it’s because of your anguish. Somehow, that settles the loneliness growing in your chest. His anger on your behalf eases you. The curtains of the carriage are closed. You sit here alone with him. You think of the grand carriage at the tail end of the convoy that your husband sits in shamelessly with three other women. Your heart squeezes.
“Seungcheol,” you shift yourself to the right to make room, “sit with me.”
Your Knight blinks. “Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare-”
“Please.” Your face crumples again. “Please.”
He shifts immediately, two smooth movements before he is turning his body and sitting down next to you. You waste no time in scooting closer, until your arm presses against the tough, steel plates covering his. It’s rigid, but the cold of it gives you stability. Comfort.
“Never, ever plead with me, Princess.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds strained. “If I don’t listen to your orders on one call, I have failed as your Knight. It is beneath you to ask twice.”
You stare straight ahead. Your tears still flow freely, trailing down from your jaw until they wet your neck too. No one has touched you, not even through metal armor, in over a year. You remember Mingyu hugging you before you boarded the carriage on your way to your new home. Besides Eunhee’s hands dressing you and combing your hair every day, the only touch you remember is the delicate kiss Seungcheol laid on your knuckles the day he was declared your Champion.
Your heart squeezes. You are starved.
“Hold my hand.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. This time, Seungcheol does not hesitate. Warm, stiff leather meets bare skin. His large hand slides over yours, squeezing tightly. You sigh, your eyes closing. A few more stray tears escape.
You lay your head on the stiff plate over his shoulder as the carriage moves steadily on.
…………………………………..
The journey is brutal, mostly because you spend every day filled with the dread of getting to your destination. Your first few nights within your own lands, noble families along your route host you, grand affairs as they welcome you to their homes, that you attend in a state of emotional numbness. You request that Eunhee stay with you overnight, and she sleeps in a cot in the same room as you. You toss and turn, void of any sleep or comfort, despite the lengths your guests go to for that very goal.
Your only relief is in your carriage, with your Knight.
Seungcheol holds your hand as long as you desire it. He runs his thumb over the back of it, comforting circles of sure, firm leather that ground your rampaging thoughts. You sigh, your cheek pressed to the stiff armor on his body. For a few, blissful moments, your racing thoughts quieten.
“Must you wear this at all times?” You mumble, gesturing to the metal. He chuckles.
“I must, my Princess.” He muses. “However else will I be ready to protect you should the need arise?”
You hum and sigh, feeling surety in his touch. He has started saying that, my Princess. Like you are his. You are sure he means nothing by it except a show of his unwavering devotion, and a comfort to you in trying times like these. But it lights a fire in your chest, anyway. You move closer, your thigh pressing to his, and your face heats at the proximity. Layers of clothes and metal plates interfere between you two, but Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens. His breath hitches. Your mind runs to places it shouldn’t.
Seven days of travel later, you finally arrive at your childhood home.
Mingyu stands at the gate with a grand reception. Prior to your arrival, the convoy was rearranged, and you were placed in the same carriage as the Prince, while his concubines were relocated. Just the thought of sitting in there made you sick, but you sucked it up for the sake of the occasion. You are quick to exit when you arrive, unable to stay in the same space as Seojoon any longer.
Mingyu has aged only one year since you last saw him, but he looks much older. You wonder if it’s the strain of your parents’ sudden deaths (severe lung infections, he tells you), mixed with the fact that he has to quickly scramble to prepare for the Throne. You know for a fact that he wasn’t prepared for this. Well, every heir is prepared to an extent, but Mingyu saw this to be somewhere in the distant future, and not so soon. He is dressed in royal blue and gold, your family colors, and seeing him sends a shock of bittersweet pain through your chest.
Despite everything, you missed him.
The feast arranged for your arrival is grand as anything, and you spend all your time catching up with Mingyu. He speaks to you so warmly that it is almost a shock. You had forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like you mean something. Immediately afterward, he offers for you both to retire to his private study for more time together, while your husband and your servants are shown to their rooms. Seungcheol asks thrice if you are okay to be alone, and you reassure him that you are.
“I wouldn’t mind if you joined us, Sir Choi.” Mingyu smiles. “And you too, Chief Advisor Yoon.”
You stare at Mingyu, shocked, when he deliberately leaves out Seojoon, who is sitting at the same dinner table. You can feel your husband stiffen next to you, and his face twists in an ugly sneer. But he doesn’t say anything. Jeonghan and Seungcheol both politely decline the invitation, as it would be disrespectful to accept when the Heir Apparent has not even been asked. You feel a sick satisfaction at the way Mingyu has dealt with the situation, returning to your meal and taking a bite to hide your smile.
You ask him about it when you’re walking to his study. It’s just the two of you, along with Seungcheol, who is five paces behind you, escorting you to where you need to be.
“Seojoon won’t be happy. That was blatant disrespect.”
Mingyu scoffs. “Good. Your marital family hasn’t exactly upheld their end of our alliance. My borders are distressed and I’m hurtling headfirst into a war. If disrespecting my brother in law is going to wake the King up a little, then so be it.”
You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know I’m the reason why they won’t cooperate with you. I am yet to give them an heir.”
Mingyu’s voice hardens. “Producing an heir was never part of the deal. It was you in exchange for political stability.”
Your throat tightens. Mingyu falters.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is more sombre now, when his words register to him. You shake your head. You are entirely used to people talking about you like an object.
“It’s fine. You’re not wrong.”
“I still feel guilty.”
“I’m aware.”
You enter Mingyu’s library through large mahogany doors. Seungcheol gives you a cautious look. You nod at him, hopefully reassuredly. The door finally closes between you.
The fireplace is roaring, lively flames that set the room aglow with a soft, golden light. You settle in one of two armchairs facing it, and Mingyu takes the other one. A chambermaid stands a few feet away, and Mingyu gestures for her to serve tea.
“I was also angry.” Mingyu speaks up. You look at him to continue. His face is colder now, like he has been deeply insulted.
“He brought not one, not two, but three concubines to his wife’s birth home, to attend her brother’s coronation. He has crossed a line.”
You bite the inside of your lip, watching the maid place a delicate cup of tea on the table next to you. You don’t reply to Mingyu, because you don’t know what to say.
“There’s rumors, you know?” He mumbles. “Traveling merchants love to spread gossip, and my advisor has a good idea about how public perception is currently looking. Your people are particularly distasteful of him. I’m unsure of how he will be able to peacefully take the Throne without massive unrest.”
You sigh and nod. You know of the rumors. You also know that they are entirely his doing, so you feel no sympathy for him.
“Speaking of unrest,” you begin, “I’m more concerned about how things are looking for you.”
When Mingyu sighs this time, it’s pained and heavy. He looks like he bears a huge, invisible burden. You watch him run a hand over his face.
“We’re being provoked to it.” He says. “There have been attacks on our entire eastern border. There’s only so much we can hold off before we retaliate. Father had been pushing for negotiations before illness took him. That’s why we are rushing a Coronation. I need to be in power so I can do something more diplomatic and not let this escalate.”
You stare into the fire, thinking. “But if it does, we will go to war with you.”
Mingyu nods. “You will have to. It’s in writing.”
“Right.” Your mind is racing with just one thought, and despite everything, it seems your brother knows exactly what thought it is.
“That includes your Knight.” He states.
Your head whips up to look at him. He does not look disapproving, or judgemental. Instead, he has a tiny smile playing on his face.
“I’m not daft, you know? The way he looks at you goes far beyond the realm of duty to the Crown.”
You feel your cheeks burn hot, and you look away from Mingyu’s shrewd stare, scowling. He laughs.
“You misunderstand him.” You respond. “He’s very devoted.”
Mingyu hums in a way that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Sure.”
Your heart pounds. You focus on sipping your tea, scalding your tongue with the first sip, but you do not care. Mingyu breaks the awkward air.
“He has a reputation too, you know? Your Knight.”
You look at Mingyu curiously. “What do you mean?”
He shifts a little, crossing one leg over the other. “He leads a garrison known for fearsome battle expertise. He is an excellent fighter. He was the youngest member of the Royal Guard to receive a Knightship. And he comes from a very prominent village of business and trade. Any merchant from your country sings his praises. Your public loves him.”
You feel something like pride swirl inside you. You smile at your cup.
“He deserves it.”
Mingyu hums.
“If he fights in this war with his garrison, there is no way we will lose.”
Your grip on your cup tightens. A slow sense of dread takes root in your chest as you think about the possibility of Seungcheol not being by your side, but laying his life on the line at your borders. You try vehemently to push it away. “There is no war. And there will be none.”
Mingyu says nothing. He only stares. You go back to your tea.
……………………………
Despite such short notice for arrangements, Mingyu’s coronation is grand as anything. You think this has to do, in part, with the mere presence your brother has. Tall, regal, confident. Like he was born to be on the Throne, like his whole life was a mere filler leading up to this moment. You are truly happy to see him bear the heavy Crown. You have complete confidence in his ability to lead his people.
The feast is grand, the banquet afterwards is even grander. Seojoon seemed to take the slight from your first evening here personally, because in the days that follow, all through the Coronation and the subsequent celebrations, he behaves like a poorly raised child. Halfway through the banquet, he disappears from your side after drinking half the supply of alcohol instead of tastefully sipping it like everyone else. You can hear the whispers of your guests, and you can see Mingyu’s smirk. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you’re sure the task of babysitting your husband feels impossible for him. You’re half-convinced he has fully given up. Word will reach the castle before you even say farewell to your brother. The King will be furious about his son’s antics and the impression he is leaving behind, as you know his monarchy means everything to him. The resulting damage control will go heavily in Mingyu’s favor so he can make more demands by using the insult Seojoon is giving to him as leverage.
Your brother can be ingenious sometimes.
Towards the end of the celebrations, you finally take leave from the gathering. Mingyu, still not entirely used to the new difference in rank between you two, gives you a hug before you retire for the night. You’re pleasantly surprised, and a little tipsy as well, so you giggle and return it. Truthfully, you missed this. You’ve been so starved of genuine affection that you don’t care if you’re breaking royal etiquette for a moment. You’re smiling widely as you leave, humming under your breath. Your Knight, who was your escort the entire night, seems to notice.
“You enjoyed yourself, Your Highness.” Seungcheol muses, one pace behind you as always. “I’m glad.”
You hum and giggle. “I did. I missed Mingyu. He was the only person in my birth home who showed me unfiltered kindness.”
He nods. “I can see that. His Majesty is truly kind. And he cares, despite everything. He will be a wonderful king.”
You turn to look at him. “He praised you too. Said your reputation precedes you. I was so shocked, Sir Choi. I didn’t know how famous you are.”
Seungcheol sighs and cringes visibly, and it only makes you laugh more. When you reach your guest chambers, he pushes the door open and guides you inside.
“I’m sure he exaggerates.”
You scoff in a manner truly undignified for a Princess, kicking your shoes off. Seungcheol watches you flounder around as the door shuts behind him.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not!” You give him an appalled look. He raises an eyebrow, but his lips fight to not tick up.
“I will send for Eunhee.”
You groan and step forward. “No.”
The word drags out of you, long and petulant. Your hands find Seungcheol’s chest, and you fiddle with the array of gold medals pinned to his ceremonial uniform. The deep maroon looks wonderful against his skin, and he’s studded with all his achievements, looking grander than you, you would argue, if you weren’t so heavily draped in shiny silk and golden jewelry. Up close, you can smell him, a scent of metal and warm wood.
Seungcheol’s hands shoot up instinctively to yours, delicately circling around your wrists. You can feel his heartbeat on your palm even through his jacket. You watch carefully, his touch shooting like sparks up your arm. He is not wearing gloves. This is the first time you’ve felt his skin against yours.
“Princess.” His voice is cautious. His posture has stiffened because of your proximity. You have never been this close to him before, except when he sat with you in your carriage.
“Mingyu said something else too.” You mumble, ignoring his warning. “He said…. that you’re in love with me.”
Not in so many words, but you want to see Seungcheol’s reaction. And you get it instantly. His entire torso turns rigid, and subconsciously, his grip on your wrists tightens. His eyes have widened, darting left to right between your own.
“Do you love me, Seungcheol?” You whisper.
All is silent for a few moments. Seungcheol heaves in a breath like it’s a struggle for him. “I pledged you my sword and my life.”
You minutely shake your head. When you step forward, rising slightly on your tip toes, your sigh mingles with his. The air freezes still, like it’s holding its breath, like it’s waiting for the melee to break.
“Answer me.” You breathe.
Seungcheol’s eyes screw shut. This close, you can count his individual eyelashes. You can see the small smattering of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You can see the way his skin is gradually pinkening the longer you stay so close to him.
“Please don’t ask this of me, Your Highness.” His voice is strained. “I have never lied to you. I do not wish to start today.”
Your eyes cloud. Your vision swims. Mingyu was right. He was right.
You step back, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, and the tension releases like the whistle on a steam engine. Seungcheol’s grip on your wrists loosens, then disappears. You see his chest rise in a deep breath, just before he opens his eyes. But he won’t look at you. The second there is distance between you, he falls to one knee.
“Please forgive me.” His voice shakes as he bows deeply. “I don’t deserve your grace, not after breaching your trust in the way that I have. I am a weak human in mind, my Princess. I have wavered. I let myself think of you impurely, unjustly. I will repent for the rest of my days if I have to.”
Your face crumples. Your heart twinges painfully in your chest at the waver in his voice, the genuine fear in it, and somehow, this pain is worse than any you have felt in the last year. The thought that loving you is something that made Seungcheol feel guilty is like knives to your chest. You don’t think. Instead, you drop to your knees too.
Seungcheol reacts immediately, hands gripping your arms and hauling you up before your knees can even feel the heat of the stone floor. He is shocked at the action, nearly balking at you as he holds you up. You grip the lapel of his jacket, trying to get your feet under you. He uses the hold on your arms to tug your closer. You freeze, looking up into his eyes.
“The day you kneel on the floor is the day I shatter my own kneecaps.” He rasps. His words make your stomach twinge. Your face flushes. Your eyes dart to his lips.
“Kiss me.”
Seungcheol blinks. You don’t know who you have shocked more, him or yourself. But once the words leave your mouth, you realise you want nothing more than this exact thing. It burns through your veins like a desire so aching it leaves your soul empty. You push forward again, despite how strong your Knight’s grip is on your arms, until you feel his nose brush the tip of yours.
“You said I would never have to ask twice.” Your voice trembles. It’s so quiet, you are half unsure if he has heard you. “You said it was beneath me.”
Seungcheol’s eyes squeeze shut again. He pulls in a long, laboured breath. When he opens them again, you feel a tug on your body, and soft lips meet yours with an insistent press.
You have heard of first kisses. You have heard of them in stories told by court entertainers and travellers, by old noblewomen who tell fairytales and sing folk songs. You imagined your own, once upon a time, with a man that is now your husband, who you have never let touch you. But your Knight, your Champion, is present before you, tall like standing oak, but with lips softer than your most delicate velvet, moving over your own with a surety you have long associated with him. You melt into him like he’s meant for you, and he is. He has sworn an oath to be your support, and he keeps it, his hands leaving your arms so one can wind carefully around your waist. Your body meets his in a soft push, and it’s like the tension leaves you like a relieved sigh. You feel fingers card through your hair, a familiar feeling because Eunhee does your hair every morning, but these fingers are thicker, stronger, and they cup the back of your head, tilt it, so his lips slot deeper into yours.
Your trembling hands rest on his shoulders. His body is solid, alive, as it moves with yours. Your breasts push against his chest, his arm that winds around you making sure not an inch of space separates you from him. Your feet almost leave the floor, the balls of your feet barely brushing the stone anymore, his strength holding you up. He feels divine against you. Your inhibitions are lowered, and you mewl into him.
“Princess.” He breathes into your mouth, voice tinged with desperation, but he never finishes the thought. He kisses you harder, grips you tighter, like letting you go will mean you will drift away. His body curves into you, your own arches into his. He invades your every sense. His tongue runs over your bottom lip. Something tightens severely in your lower stomach.
A thudding sound behind you shatters your high. Seungcheol hears it too. He pulls back so harshly it feels like he is being ripped away, and you immediately stumble back a few paces, turning away from him. There is another thud, and then the door swings open.
“Eunhee.” You hear him say. His voice is stable, like he wasn’t breathing into your mouth mere seconds ago. Your stomach jolts. “You’re here. Good. I was just about to send for you.”
“My apologies, Sir Choi.” Your maid enters smoothly. You don’t hear any suspicion in her voice. You don’t turn. You feel like your ribs will crack under the forceful pounding of your heart.
“Her Highness has had some wine.” You feel like Seungcheol’s voice is far away, like you’re hearing him through a roaring waterfall. “Please take care of her.”
You don’t hear Eunhee’s reply, but the door shuts shortly after. You feel Eunhee’s gentle hands guide you with a grip on your arms to the large chair next to the fireplace. You want to flinch away, still drowning under the sensation of the strong grip that kept you on your feet mere moments ago. You’re sure your handmaid thinks you are a little foggy because of the alcohol, as you don’t usually drink and can’t hold a lot. But your senses have never been more sharp, your mind never more clear.
Once you’ve changed and laid down, with Eunhee in her cot already dead asleep, you stare at the dark ceiling, wondering what you have just done. And what you are about to do.
Because you know, with complete certainty, that you will do it again.
……………………………
You stay at your birth home for three more days before being scheduled to leave. Despite a myriad of new responsibilities for your brother, he spends ample time with you, and any time he isn’t with you, you spend catching up with the noblewomen of the castle, as well as your old handmaids. You do miss your old home, since you haven’t come back in a noticeable while. Given everything, you don’t come face to face with Seungcheol in complete privacy until you’re bidding Mingyu farewell and settling into your carriage. Petulantly enough, Seojoon chose not to sit with you, not that you mind.
You say your last goodbye through the window, smiling and waving delicately. Mingyu smiles broadly in farewell. Eunhee cushions your back to make you comfortable and retreats. Your heart skips when Seungcheol slides into the seat opposite to you. The horses’ hooves click and the convoy finally starts moving. Seconds after it picks up speed, Seungcheol shuts the curtain. Your eyes meet his in the enclosed space. The first time you have been completely alone with him since that night.
Heat sizzles. It cracks.
His body shifts to the seat next to you, his hand finds its place on the back of your head just like it did the first time. When he kisses you, you feel like new life is breathed into your soul. You return it immediately, scrambling to find purchase over his armor. The first touch of his lips feels like a cold drink on a hot summer day.
“Princess,” he breathes when you sigh into him, “forgive me. Forgive me. I am weak.”
You can barely shake your head against the grip he has on you. You kiss him harder, scowling when his heavy armor restricts your access to him.
“Stop apologising. I want this as much as you do.”
His groan cracks halfway. His lips never leave yours.
“Your Highness, I loathe disagreeing with you, but here I must.” He whispers, pulling away just slightly. You heave in a deep breath. His forehead meets yours and his eyes are wide, the warmest, fiercest brown, peering into yours, dripping with emotion that stabs your frantic heart.
“You have invaded my every thought for days. I remembered our kiss every night, and I prayed for the moment I could do it again.”
You’re the one pulling him in this time, kissing him like you’re hungry for it, like you’re starving. Seungcheol’s tongue, hot and insistent, finally crosses the threshold of your mouth. You keen into him. His free hand runs up and down your side, sending tingles over your clothed skin.
It’s a bump and jolt of the carriage under you that breaks the kiss. Your breaths are heavy, lips swollen and tingling. He is a vision, cheeks flushed, lips dark pink and wet with your spit. You flush at the sight. He brushes your hair behind your ear.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs. “You are the loveliest thing that has ever graced the soil of my country.”
You feel your face burn hot at the ardency in his words. You cannot even refuse, not even out of modesty. The earnest tone of his voice leaves no room for doubt. He means this with every fibre in him, you can tell.
“Stay with me forever, Seungcheol.”
His eyes almost melt. He closes them, leaning his forehead delicately against yours.
“I will never consider anything otherwise, Your Highness.”
Your heart feels at ease.
……………………………
The castle is in disarray when you return.
You cannot tell immediately, but there is a certain charge in the air. Jeonghan’s face is pulled taut, and you are not used to seeing him so worried. He is usually relaxed and in control, but it seems the King is particularly furious this time. The many months of distrustful behavior from his son have piled up. The Court’s Councillors don’t trust him anymore, especially not as Heir Apparent, and it seems they have planned a certain reckoning for him after his stint at your brother’s coronation.
You are sure it won’t end well, but you are not bothered. Your head is still in the clouds after the week of blissful traveling you just returned from. You still feel Seungcheol’s lips crowding yours, leaving them tingling. His hands had touched you, your waist, your side, your neck, never straying too much, but his very grip was charged and heavy. His tongue had explored every part of your mouth until you keened into him, and he pulled away to take deep breaths.
“You’re tempting me, Princess.” He would rasp. “You are leading me astray.”
And you loved it. You love that he wants you so much that he is willing to break loyalty to the Throne, that he needs you, all of you, your body, enough to defile your purity. You know his oath is different. He swore loyalty to you and you only, and not to anyone else. He got down on both knees for it. You tell him that, whisper to him to show you his devotion, to stand true to his oath and serve you the way he promised he would. His resulting answer would be a strained groan, and his kisses would be even heavier, even hotter.
You are least interested in whatever hell the Prince has landed himself in, but unfortunately, it has left the castle in terrible unrest. You hear of the gossip from your ladies-in-waiting, and despite their catty nature, you know their news is almost always reliable.
“The Prince is furious.”
“He thinks he is being publicly shamed.”
“He is. His Majesty has made jabs in Court. But hearing it from Noblemen and political advisors is particularly humiliating.”
“What do you think, Your Highness? Has he talked about it with you?”
You roll your eyes and focus on biting down on a grape, letting the sour juice flood your mouth. “Your Prince is too busy bedding any woman he lays eyes on to pay any attention to me.”
Not that you would want him to, but phrasing it like this puts the blame on him rather than you, and you have grown sharp enough to realise that. You also know that any word you say to these women will go straight back to the Queen, so your sentences have to be careful.
That night after dinner, Seungcheol escorts you to your chambers as always. You have yet to touch him since you returned, and you muse about it as you walk back, but his face is pinched, lost in thought.
“What is bothering you?” You ask.
He seems to snap out of it, blinking. He shakes his head. “Nothing of your concern, Your Highness.”
You purse your lips. “I still want to know.”
He hums. “We have been refreshing and developing war plans. To be prepared for what is coming.”
You stop short, staring. Seungcheol freezes beside you as well.
“We are going to war?” Your voice is tinged with panic. Seungcheol immediately shakes his head.
“Not right now, no. But we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Don’t worry, Princess. Your brother is adept. He can handle this.”
You nod slowly, taking a deep breath. Seungcheol urges you to keep walking. When you reach your chamber doors, he pushes them open but stays outside.
“I must leave.” He looks regretful. “I left the meeting so I could escort you back. Jeonghan is awaiting my arrival.”
You fight to not smile, but you fail. You feel your face warm.
“You left the meeting just for this?”
His face softens and he returns the smile. “Of course.”
The hallway is empty. Your night guards are not here yet. Eunhee is next to the fireplace, but the door blocks her from seeing you. Your eyes run over your surroundings again, and when you think everything is clear, you step forward, laying your lips gently against his.
His breath hitches, and he barely has time to respond before you step back, fighting off the giddy smile on your face.
Seungcheol looks shocked, but he huffs out a laugh anyway, shaking his head.
“Good night, my Princess.”
“Good night, Sir Choi.”
He just laughs again, tonguing his cheek as you disappear behind the doors.
…………………………….
Your mornings have a quiet routine that you have perfected by now. You wake naturally early, an old habit inculcated in you. You wash, and are dressed and seated by the time Seungcheol appears with the morning’s work and any messages. You are not fond of large breakfasts, so Eunhee prepares fresh helpings of the fruit you like, as well as a warm cup of tea. Anything after leaving your chambers is for later, but the first couple of hours of the day are for you only. You enjoy that time immensely, and it grounds you to your reality. You are sure that without this routine, you would’ve lost your senses a long time ago.
Today is different, however.
You are roused from sleep to the sound of shouting. It takes a moment to register, but despite being sleep addled, your eyes pop open. There’s more thudding and shouting, and harsh voices float into your ears, muffled by distance and your heavy oak doors.
“Has anyone gone in or out?”
“No, Sir!”
“What about her maid?”
“She hasn’t arrived yet, Sir. Her usual time is one hour from now.”
You sit up at the sound of heavy footsteps. The door is pushed open and your mouth drops as Seungcheol steps inside. His steely eyes meet your weary, alarmed ones. He closes the door behind him and moves quickly, beelining to the door leading to your bath, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. You are shocked speechless, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from your eyes. He re-emerges, walking in the opposite direction to look behind the heavy velvet drapes on your windows. He checks the lock on the balcony doors before pulling them open and stepping outside. You catch a glimpse of the sky. There is still no sun. The sky is only mildly lighter, and you realise it is the early hours of the morning.
He steps back inside, still hard-faced and on guard. He walks to your bed, sinking down to one knee so he can look under it.
“Seungcheol.” You finally speak, voice slightly hoarse from sleep. “What is happening?”
When your Knight resurfaces, this time closer to you, you realise that he looks way more worried than he ever has previously. He looks at the door, which is still closed, and finally lets himself relax, though only mildly. He sits next to you on the edge of the bed. You have the brief thought that you are in nothing more than a single layer of cloth, a linen chemise you always wear for sleep. Seungcheol has never seen you like this. He has never sat on your bed. But one look at the pinched expression on his face tells you that is the least of his concerns right now.
“Has anyone visited you overnight?” He asks, his tone urgent. You shake your head.
“Did you eat anything after dinner yesterday?”
You think. “I had tea before going to sleep.”
“Who prepared it?”
“Eunhee. She always prepares it.”
“Anything else?”
“No. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard any strange noises? Anything about the guards moving at night?”
“No.” Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Tell me, Seungcheol.”
Finally, he sighs, one hand reaching up to run tiredly down his face.
“His Majesty the King has passed away.”
You gasp, hands coming up to clamp your mouth in horror. A million questions immediately rush to your brain, but it seems that Seungcheol is ahead of you.
“Court physicians have confirmed it was apoplexy, a seizure in the humors of the brain.” He explains. “The Queen is beside herself. She’s the one who found him, sitting straight up in bed.”
You are frozen still. You cannot even process.
“Most of the castle still doesn’t know, only some chief councillors, court physicians and nurses. The news will probably break at dawn. Everyone is devastated, but the Prince…”
This is when he falters, jaw clenching and eyes glazing over. “He’s not…. acting right.”
“He just lost his father, Seungcheol.” You finally say, your voice shaking. You loathe the man, but you can understand that hurt. You know the King was wildly beloved.
“It’s not that, Your Highness. He’s strangely erratic. He wants to take over quickly. He’s already talking about a Coronation.”
Your eyebrows furrow. Coronation? At a time like this?
“Maybe because of the uncertainty? We are looming ever closer to a war…”
He lets out a sigh and nods slowly. “That’s what everyone believes. Something just isn’t right.”
A small silence descends. You think about what has happened, and it hits you that, once your husband officially takes the Throne, you will become Queen Consort. Your duties will change, your routine will shift. Everything is about to be different.
Seungcheol seems to snap out of his deep thoughts, finally looking at you. “I wanted to rush to your side immediately, to check if you were okay. His Majesty’s demise is suspect at best. Jeonghan is convinced the Heir Apparent had something to do with it. If he can, theoretically, have his father killed, then…”
He shakes his head, as if he can’t finish the thought.
“What makes you think he had him killed?” Your eyebrows furrow. You still don’t believe it.
Seungcheol shrugs. “These past few days, the King has been harsh on him. His court officials have been egging him on. Plus, with the impending war, him taking the Throne as King means he will take command of troops and form strategies in the field. Had he gone into war as a Prince, he would be expected to fight on the frontlines.”
Seungcheol’s face hardens, like he is disgusted, but he bites his tongue. You know, had it been anyone other than the Prince, Seungcheol would have called him a coward. But respect binds him from doing so.
“It’s just a hunch, an intuition I’ve honed over many years.” He continues. “Jeonghan agrees with me. However, the political unrest right now is too severe. Everyone will scramble to establish stable leadership. And as the physician has declared it natural causes, I doubt there will be any more questioning into this, despite Her Majesty the Queen’s hysteria about it. It is open and shut.”
You nod slowly. You trust Seungcheol’s instinct completely. He has never been wrong, and he has never let you down. If he has this suspicion, then to you, it is with sound reasoning. You’re still reeling at the news, but there is a strange calm in your chest. You know that is because Seungcheol is in your presence. If you had heard the news from anyone else, you would be incredibly distressed right now, but he makes you feel safe.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Seungcheol’s face softens and his eyes focus on you. For the first time since he came, he smiles.
“You were my first thought when I heard. I had to confirm that you were okay.”
Your heart lifts. You shift to get closer to him. His eyes shoot down, and his jaw slacks. You watch with amusement as he realises for the first time that you are in your private clothes.
“My apologies for barging in here.” He says. You watch him make the effort to not look down, instead staring over your shoulder and blinking rapidly. You suppress a giggle.
“You did it for my safety.” You respond. Slowly, you lift your hand so you can place it over the sleeve of his jacket, running up the bend of his elbow to his bicep. You see his chest rise in a deep breath.
“Won’t you stay a little longer?”
Seungcheol risks looking in your eyes. His resolve fails him, and his gaze travels down again. The collar of your chemise dips. This close, he can see the skin past it, and his ears redden. You’ve always been buried under layers and layers of cloth and corset. This is all new to him. His hand twitches. Under his attention, you feel a slight shyness creep up on you.
“I must go.” He mumbles, but his eyes travel hungrily down your torso. You feel a shiver run through your body at how they darken. His attention sends a thrill down your spine, like your nerves are igniting. You love the feeling of it.
“It’s still a while until dawn breaks.” You push forward until your nose nudges his cheek. His lips part and he sighs. You feel it on your bare neck, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns his head, and his lips brush yours.
“I can’t, Princess. Forgive me.” His voice is strained, and it feels like the sentence pains him. His mouth slides over yours, until it feels like you are swallowing his words. “The guards have already sent for Eunhee. She will be here in minutes.”
It seems like saying it out loud breaks the tension a little, and slowly Seungcheol pulls away. You sigh and lean back, hyperaware of how heated your body feels.
“I miss you, Seungcheol.” You pout. “It has been days.”
Your Knight’s lips quirk up in a small, apologetic smile. “I’m regretful, Your Highness. But I promise you, once the dust settles, I am all yours to do with as you please.”
There is a heated promise in his words. You flush deeply and nod. You don’t know what to say. Every muscle in your body feels like it is wound up in anticipation. Seungchoel has kissed you breathless, but his lips have never drifted to any part of yours beyond your mouth. You know what his words imply, and the thrill of it nearly leaves you dizzy. You have always known how attractive Seungcheol is, both in body and soul. He’s your closest companion, and you have never wanted anyone the way you have wanted him, even if you are uncertain of what exactly it is that you want. You never consummated your marriage. You are as pure as the first rain of summer. And you want only him to touch every part of you.
Seungcheol reaches for you, his hand winding around the side of your neck to cup it. He has this habit. He did it extensively in the carriage, and you love it. It comes with a strange sense of possession that grounds you and makes your nerves feel alive. He speaks again.
“Do not leave your room until I come get you. Eunhee will remain here. Likely, your ladies-in-waiting will arrive early in the morning and stay with you for a while.”
You nod. He continues, but this time it is gentle. Reassuring.
“Things will change very quickly. But you need not worry. I am here, always. No harm shall come to you, okay?”
You nod again, heart melting at his words, tilting your face into his hand. You lay a small kiss on his palm. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
Finally, he takes his hand away even though you don’t wish for him to. You watch him stand and look around once more, sighing and walking to the door. He gives you one final look and smile before he carefully leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. You can hear his voice vaguely through the doors, instructing the guards. You lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.
Things are about to take a drastic turn. But you feel more assured than you have in years.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 11.6k
warnings (for this chapter): arranged marriage, lying and betrayal, angst, feelings of inadequacy, low self worth, mentions of concubines, fight scenes, no serious bodily harm tho, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, hurt/little comfort.
series masterlist
When you first see your wedding gown, it takes your breath away.
It’s a deep blue, satin material with sprawling golden embellishments accenting every edge. All the details are hand-embroidered; you are aware that the seamstresses have been working on this dress for many months, and their hard work shows. Your feet tremble slightly as you step into the dress, the material petal-soft on your skin. You had spent all of last week being pampered to the extreme by your maids, so your skin is supple and perfumed, primed for perfection. Your head seamstress and two of your maids lace up the corseted bodice until it fits snugly against you. You lower your arms, trailing, fitted sleeves of the same beautiful satin material, and watch yourself in the mirror. Your heart beats faster than usual. It has been slowly picking up speed leading up to the wedding, and now it is nearly bursting from your chest.
Hope curdles in the depths of your heart. Hope for a new start, a happy life, a peaceful existence.
Your maids flit around, adjusting your hair and the tiny gold ornaments on your neck, your ears, your wrists. Of all your days as a princess, it is ironic that it is your last day in this castle that you look truly the most beautiful you ever have. You don’t care as much for your appearances as most royals would, but even you are moved by your reflection in the mirror today.
There is a knock on the door before it hesitantly opens. A broad shoulder and a head pokes inside, and you turn slightly to meet shocked eyes.
“Mingyu.” You smile, eyeing how smart your brother looks in his full uniform, the ceremonial outfit fitted to his large frame perfectly. He steps inside and quickly closes the door behind him, a smile breaking on his face as he watches you. Your maids add final touches, smoothing wrinkles in the many layers of the skirt.
“You look so beautiful.” He compliments. You return his grin.
Your older brother, next in line for your family’s throne, might be the only person within these four walls that you will miss when you leave. Because he is the only person in this castle who hasn’t made you feel entirely insignificant. Your own mother, the Queen, not coming to see you on the morning of your wedding day is indication enough of how little value you have in the eyes of everyone you live with.
But no matter. You will leave tonight for a new home, a royal family that actually wants you in their midst, who asked for your hand with reverence and anticipation. This hollow feeling in your chest has numbered hours left to live, and already, the tendrils of hope are wrapped around your heart, ready to strangle it and banish it completely from you.
Mingyu stays with you for a bit as your maids finish up. Then, he raises a hand and dismisses them, telling them to be back shortly. They flit out without a word, bowing respectfully to the heir as they leave. The door shuts behind them with a soft click.
“How are you feeling?” Mingyu asks. You nod.
“Very good. I’m excited.”
When Mingyu smiles this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Remember, you will leave tonight for a new home, but you will always have me when you need me. Write to me, okay?”
You turn as much as your heavy dress and long train will allow. Mingyu might be the only person who is even slightly bothered by your leaving. For everyone else, you were a temporary fixture since the moment you came into this world, the second-born after the birth of a son, that too a daughter. You had no value from the minute you left your mother’s womb. Not until today.
Mingyu is very careful as he steps close to you, as close as the dress will allow. He lets his hand brush very gently over your hair.
“You will make a wonderful Queen.”
Your eyes water. You blink the tears away before they can spill.
The wedding ceremony is lavish, grand. Despite Mingyu being older, yours is the first wedding between the two of you. The people of your land have something to celebrate, an opportunity not too heavily available to them. You’ve heard that your neighbouring nation, the one you are marrying into, is a lot more prosperous. The thought excites you. Eventually, with time, you will be Queen, and you are very interested in knowing of all the dealings of the land you will govern.
Your veil is tulle, long and embroidered so you can hardly see through it. You keep your gaze low, heart beating fast throughout the entire ceremony. You cannot see the man you’re marrying, but you can feel him next to you, your now husband, Seojoon, heir to his own land’s throne, only child of the sitting King. You’ve met him once before, immediately after your engagement a couple of years ago. He had a quieter disposition, but he carried himself with authority even then. His voice was booming and sharp, hair closely cropped and jet black. He was handsome, in a conventional sense.
You had spoken only briefly over tea, and it had been a bout of stilted conversation. You had been too jumpy and nervous, so you decided to not speak too much for fear of saying something unbecoming. You wanted to write him letters in the time after that leading up to the wedding, but your mother thought it ‘improper’ and shut it down. It’s fine. You have a whole lifetime to get to know him.
You go through the wedding with a pounding heart, every movement precise from many, many rounds of rehearsals. When your veil is finally removed after the ceremony and right before the feast, you feel like it uncovers you with a promise. A new life, a new chapter. Your hope, curling in your heart like thin tendrils, is solidifying as the time passes. You enjoy your last meal in the castle, because you know your carriages are waiting outside, ready to take you away from this horrible place.
You are seen off among lots of flourish. Your personal maid, who has been with you for many years, is openly weeping, though she is trying her hardest to not sob audibly. She kisses your hand before you mount your carriage. Even Mingyu, the strongest person you know, has damp eyes. It surprises you, but then you remember that you will likely not see Mingyu for a long time. You feel gloom tickle your heart when he gives you a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Write to me. Please.” He says again. The same thing he said before the wedding. This time, there is a slight urgency in his voice. You pull back just enough to look at him, taken aback by his tone. But he gives you a bright smile, ushering you forward before you have any room to question it.
“Go. Don’t keep them waiting.”
You don’t have time to dwell on it. The carriage in front of yours houses the King and Queen of your new nation, your husband’s parents. They are waiting for your goodbyes to end, and so you nod, taking Mingyu’s arm so he can assist you up and into the carriage where Seojoon already sits among others.
As the horses move and the wheels turn to carry you away, you give one last look to the procession that bids you farewell. Neither your mother nor your father are part of it. They didn’t even bother to come to the castle gates. For the first time in a long time, their dismissal of you doesn’t sting. This is the last time. You will never have to feel so discarded, so rejected, ever again.
You turn away from the window when the scenery starts blurring more as the horses pick up speed. You look around the cabin where you sit. Seojoon is next to you, peering out of the opposite window. In front of you sits a small woman with a frail frame, slightly older and with a thinly lined face, dressed in a plain frock and flat, brown shoes. You know her. It’s Eunhee, your new maid, who will be with you every hour of your waking moments going forward. You’d been introduced to her briefly before, and you know she was handpicked by the Queen, your mother in law, so you trust Eunhee completely.
Sitting next to her, opposite to Seojoon, is a man in uniform. He’s not in armor, but his uniform jacket is sturdy, and adorned with medals and pins showing his achievements. His hair is dark like the wet earth, parted down the middle, pale skin, strong jaw, straight nose, steel eyes. His posture is stoic and rigid, maybe even more so than royals. There’s a sheathed sword leaning against the cushion he is sitting on, right by his thigh. You look at the badges on his shoulders. A Knight.
He must feel your eyes on him, because his own turn to meet yours for a brief second. You blink and turn away, embarrassed about being caught. When you chance a glance at him again, he’s looking resolutely forward again.
No one in the carriage speaks, so you opt to stay silent as well. It has been a long, arduous day. You’re sure they are all tired. You rest your head on the cushion behind your head and close your eyes. You have many days of travel ahead, so you should try to rest whenever you can.
……………………………….
The weather is favorable, so you arrive at your new home earlier than anticipated.
You are bone-tired, not used to long days of travel. The dress that one had changed into after your ceremony is not as glamorous as your wedding dress, but it is in no way simple. The skirts are immense, and the corset is digging into you. Any dress you change into on the road is the same, overly adorned and complicated, as are worn by a new bride. Eunhee is there to lace you up every morning before you mount the carriage. Then comes hours of discomfort, until you are dressed down before sleeping for the night. By the time you reach the castle, you are near tears.
But there are expectations from the new Princess. And you must not disappoint.
A large procession waits for you at the castle gates, ready to welcome you. Throughout it, you keep a pleasant smile on your face as you have been trained to do your entire life. People bow to you, introduce themselves, hundreds of names and titles of noblemen and castle clergy that you will definitely forget. After entering the grand hallway of the castle, the Queen turns to you.
“Go with Eunhee and get ready.” She says, primly. “There will be a welcome feast soon.”
You are bone-tired, but you only nod mutely.
You don’t have the mental presence anymore to log any of your movements, so you let Eunhee and a procession of unknown women guide you through wide, stone corridors and up many, many steps. At the end of one long hallway are grand, oak doors, where two guards stand on attention. They are pushed open to reveal a sprawling room, a large poster bed with maroon drapings on the far wall, a roaring fireplace to your left, surrounded by cushy sofas and armchairs, and large rugs covering the floor. On the far wall is also a door leading to a balcony, and to the right is a door that you are guessing leads to a private bath and changing area.
It’s beautiful, and before you can properly admire your new chambers, Eunhee is gently escorting you towards a large mirror on the wall to your right. A dress is hanging next to it, maroon with gold accents, the official colors of this royal dynasty.
Three other women follow Eunhee’s lead as they slowly undo your dress to replace your new one. Your skin is marred with dark, angry marks from the corset. You wince as it comes off, and Eunhee softens her movements.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.” Her voice is so mild. Calming. You shake your head.
“Never you mind, Eunhee. I’m used to this.”
The girl next to Eunhee, who is gathering the skirt so it won’t wrinkle, speaks up. “Yes. This is all part of the duty.”
The maids freeze. You look at the girl curiously as she works. She doesn’t seem to notice the others shifting uncomfortably around her for speaking out of turn, and not using your title. You notice that she is young, maybe the same age as you, a few years younger than Eunhee, and her frock is….. tighter. Lower cut on the neckline. Her hair is looser instead of the neat buns everyone else is wearing. And she has a small bracelet on, a thin chain, but not something any maid should be wearing at all.
She makes you uneasy.
No one speaks, working quietly to slip you into your new dress. The lacing up feels agonising, and you try to take as many deep gulps of air as you can before you are again not able to breathe once it tightens. You talk yourself mentally through the process of the dinner ahead, and then, finally, you are stepping out of the room again.
The feast is packed with any and everyone who is important to the castle. Courtiers, councillors, noblemen, lords and knights. Then there is the King, the Queen, her ladies in waiting, your husband, the Crown Prince, and you, the new Crown Princess. You try to be as present and warm as you can, determined to make a good first impression despite how exhausted you are. This is your new life, these people will soon be very familiar and essential to your role in this castle. You must get along with all of them, to establish yourself. This is a new start. The days of being swatted away like a fly are over.
It takes hours, and the feast finally dies down. You and Seojoon are both dismissed, and you walk back to your chambers together. Eunhee and the Knight from before are a few steps behind you. Your heart beats a little faster. It’s late in the night, the first night you will spend with your husband. You know what will happen, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves creep up your limbs.
Once inside, Eunhee quickly de-robes you. You thank her quietly with a small smile, and her returning one is more of a wince than anything else. Her eyes look sad, dim. You wonder if she is as tired as you are, and that’s why she appears so upset.
“I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She says, voice frail.
You shake your head. “No need, Eunhee. You can leave for the night.”
She hesitates. “I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She repeats.
You don’t know what to say. Are customs different here for handmaidens? Must they wait outside all night? You assumed only a guard would. You opt to stay silent, letting Eunhee do what she thinks is best. She grew up in this castle after all, so she knows better.
You change into a softer silk gown, with a lace trim that makes your face flame up. Eunhee leaves and you enter your chambers again. Seojoon is standing in front of the fireplace, still fully dressed in his ceremonial outfit. You wonder if he will change, but then another thought enters your head. Maybe he just wants to disrobe directly. Your face heats.
He has a glass of wine in his hand. You fidget, unsure of if you should sit on the bed. You stand by it awkwardly and watch him. No one speaks while he drinks. He doesn’t even look at you. He finishes the glass quickly before setting it on the table. Then, he walks to the doors.
“I will see you in the morning.” He states, still not sparing you a glance. His voice is flat and a little tired.
You blink, shocked. Before you can ask him anything, before you can even think to protest, the heavy door swings open and he leaves in one quick step. You are left standing alone in the vast room, the only movement coming from the flames in the fireplace.
There’s a soft knock that you almost don’t hear if it weren’t for the silence in the room. Eunhee steps in very slowly. She has the same forlorn look on her face from before, and you realise that she knows something. Something she wanted to say when she was undressing you but didn’t. Something that made it necessary for her to stay outside and not retire for the night. She knew he wouldn’t be staying. She knew the reason.
“Why?” You ask, voice shaky already. There’s a feeling blooming in your chest, a sense of despair and dread previously unknown to you. Eunhee hesitates, like the very thought of answering your question pains her. She moves quickly to the tray sitting on the table next to the fireplace, pouring a glass of water for you and carrying it to the table by your bedside. She uses gentle hands to coax you to sit, and you sink into the soft mattress at the very edge. Then, she kneels on her knees right beside your legs, and peers up at you.
“Her Majesty the Queen told me you weren’t informed.” She says. “Of the Prince’s relations.”
Relations? You stare at Eunhee, unmoving. The silence in the room is pin-drop. You wait for her to keep speaking. You see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.
“The Prince indulges in…. mistresses.”
Your gaze doesn’t waver. Not a single muscle shifts. Eunhee seems to balk under your gaze.
“I am unaware of why this was kept from you, Your Highness. I assumed you would know, since the King has had concubines as well, his entire adult life. It is customary to Royals here. I was told just this very evening by Her Majesty to stay with you as you do not know. And to explain it to you.”
Your eyes wander from your handmaid, fixing on the far wall instead. The grey is solid, sturdy, but it swims in your vision. You feel the slightest of tugs, and you realise that Eunhee is clutching the hem of your robe.
“But you are his wife! Lawfully wedded. Your son will be the heir to his throne. Those concubines are mere distractions. You do not fret over them-”
“She was one of them.” You barely recognise your own voice. Detached, chilled. Eunhee immediately stops talking, so you continue.
“The maid from before. The young one who spoke out of turn. She was one of them.”
Eunhee hesitates before nodding. “Her name is Hana. She’s….. his favorite.”
You feel bile rise up in your throat. You kick your foot, disengaging Eunhee’s grip on your dress.
“Leave.”
She watches you with slight trepidation. Her hands clench and unclench. “Princess-”
“Get out.”
Your tone leaves no room for question. Eunhee promptly stands and rushes out, closing the door quietly behind her. You still stare at the wall, so grey, and as you watch, you feel like you are as grey and bleak as the walls that surround you.
………………………..
From a young age, the biggest lesson you learned as a princess who was to eventually be wed into another royal family was to never dwell.
At any point, there is too much to be done, duties to uphold, reputations to maintain, stature to solidify and alliances to form. Never can you dawdle or meander. Everything must keep flowing seamlessly from one obligation to another. Such is also the law of nature. At the end of every day, the sun sets. The earth turns one full rotation on its axis, signaling the beginning of another morning. And these processes continue stubbornly on the same timeline, no matter what. The stars do not care that your world is falling apart. The moon is unaware of the life draining from your eyes.
The morning after your arrival at the castle, on your first day of being their Crown Princess, you wake to Eunhee’s gentle voice. She bathes you, perfumes your body, helps you get dressed along with two other maids. The younger one from yesterday is notably absent. You want to believe it is because of Eunhee, and not because she spent the night with your husband.
That same nauseous feeling in your stomach threatens to rise all the way to your throat. You swallow it down.
Breakfast is grand, more than normal meals would usually be, you suspect. Celebrations will go on for days, if not weeks. You were prepared for them beforehand. You even felt excited, because in your mind, you would be attending them with your husband, enjoying everything by his side as you slowly got integrated in his life and in his heart.
He is by your side today just as you anticipated, but he feels a million miles away. Your sorrow, sizzling under the surface of your skin, is marinating, feeding on every interaction between you two. He barely looks at you, barely speaks to you. He says standing next to you in morning court, he seats himself right beside you during breakfast. He leads you to your seat in the colorful pavilion as you move from the castle to the jousting field right outside the castle walls. But he never spares you a glance. He never speaks a word to you. He is miles away, and you’re left alone and cold.
The King and Queen have arranged for a wedding joust in honor of you, the new bride. A fight that will decide which Knight will receive your favor. Wooden barriers encircle the enormous jousting field, lined with benches for audience viewing. The crowd is packed with courtiers, townsfolk and foreign envoys. Above them rises a tall pole with a maroon flag bearing the royal family emblem. The royal viewing platform is in the center of the right side lining the field, a raised area where you sit in large seats with the Prince, the King and the Queen. You fiddle with your dress as Eunhee smooths it. You dismiss her when she’s done, and she steps off the platform to a bench on the side. You turn your attention to the field.
It is vast, and the crowds are restless, talking cheerfully amongst themselves. On either end, to your right and left, are two horses surrounded by teams of men flitting about, getting them ready. Two Knights stand with the horses, tightening the armored plates on their bodies, preparing for the joust. You look at the man on the right, recognising him as the Knight you traveled with on the way to the castle, the pale, stiff one.
Movement catches the side of your eyes, and you turn your head. A man has walked up to the platform, giving you a small smile and bowing deeply. He is tall, with long, dark hair that is swept off his face, and sharp, calculating eyes.
“Your Highness. Welcome.” His voice is soft and pleasant, almost melodic. “I’m sure it will be tough to recall. Yoon Jeonghan, I'm the advisor to the Crown Prince.”
Right. You had an inkling that the man looked familiar. You were probably introduced to him last night, but there were so many faces that you barely remember them now. You nod and give him a pleasant smile.
“We are honored to have you with us today. This stage has been set for the knights to earn your favor. Both the participating Knights are two of our finest, and their victory is symbolic as well as functional.” He explains. You listen closely.
“They will fight for your favor. The Knight who wins today will be given the title ‘Champion of the Princess’, and awarded a ceremonial band to be attached to the arm of his uniform.”
At this, Jeonghan waves his hand, and an attendant steps forward holding a maroon velvet cushion. Sitting on it is a wide band adorned with the royal family emblem embroidered in gold thread. You nod, understanding your role in today’s proceedings.
Jeonghan nods pleasantly before moving to the Prince, the King and the Queen, he asks their permission to begin, approaching the King last, as his word will be the final say. Then, he dismounts from the platform. You watch him walk swiftly away.
Both Knights slide on their helmets and mount their horses. You fold your hands in your lap, happy that the joust is beginning. You’ve realised that staying unoccupied is your biggest enemy. Your mind wanders, and you are reminded of your reality in heartbreaking detail. It is very difficult to reconcile with the fact that you are as unwanted and discarded here, as you were in the castle you grew up in.
The mold you wanted to break away from is one that will follow you no matter where you go, you have realised. You will be trapped in it for your entire existence.
You focus on the fight, the sounds of the lances meeting each other, the highs and lows of the crowd, the beating of horse hooves on the solid ground. Both Knights give it their all, armor clanging with every blow, making your heart jolt along with it. Points rack up, but at the very climax of the fight, one Knight manages to de-seat the other, ramming a shoulder into his opponent and sending him hurtling to the ground. The horn sounds. The cheers reach a deafening pitch. The joust is over. He has won.
It is among the cheers that the winning Knight makes his way to the raised platform where you are seated. He bows on the first step of the stairs, and you rise from your chair. The crowd quiets. At your gesture, he starts climbing the stairs to where you are. Right before you, he kneels on one knee, head bowed. Slowly, he pulls his helmet off.
It’s him, the Knight from before.
He places his helmet before his foot. He stays kneeling. His face is covered in sweat and slightly flushed from the exertion. His breaths are heavier than normal. Some strands of his dark hair stick to his temples. His eyes stay trained on your feet.
The trumpets sound again and the Herald steps forward.
“By valor shown and points well won, Sir Choi Seungcheol is declared victor, and Champion of Her Highness the Princess!”
The crowd cheers, giving him a round of applause. The drums roll. When you raise your hand for the embroidered band, the crowd falls into a hush again, watching. You pick the cloth up, surprised by its weight despite how frail it looks. The Knight extends his arm, fist closed, and you drape the cloth over his bicep. A squire steps forward, securing it over his armor, a visible show of his devotion to the Crown.
The Knight reaches his hand forward, palm up, and carefully, you place your hand in his gloved one. The leather feels coarse but warm against your skin. He leans forward in one smooth movement, and you feel his lips press over your bare knuckles. It’s the lightest brush, his eyelids close as he does. You feel the pinpoint where his lips touch your skin, soft, reverent. When he opens his eyes again, he still doesn’t look at you, gaze on your feet the entire time. But his posture is not as rigid as it was previously. He has almost softened himself, his body curved forward a little. Submission. Devotion.
Your heart skips for a fraction of a second. He lets go of your hand and stands.
The drums start a new beat, a celebratory one. The crowd cheers. The Knight gives one final bow before descending the stairs. You watch his back for a few seconds before you return to your seat. For a brief moment, it felt like your world shrank. But now, as you clue into everything around you again, the cold, hollow despair from before settles into your chest again.
Your temporary reprieve disappears.
…………………………………..
Mingyu’s first letter finds you that very evening.
You’re surprised he wrote to you so soon after your departure, but you’re relieved to hear from someone who is not a complete stranger to you. As you wind down from the night, seated on an armchair in front of the fireplace as Eunhee pours lemon tea in a cup for you, you read your brother’s neat scrawl. The farther down your eyes go, the more your heart pounds and your mind races. Once you’re done, you let the letter rest on your lap, staring at nothing as you process.
Mingyu knew.
Suddenly, it all makes sense. The worry in his voice when he assured you that he was with you whenever you needed him. The urgency in his tone when he told you to write to him as much as you could. He knew who you were marrying, what his extracurricular activities were. If he knew, then that means your parents definitely knew too. And yet, they married you to him anyway.
Mingyu’s letter states that trade agreements and peace treaties between your nations were hanging in the balance when this marriage was proposed, and with how poorly their people were already doing, this was a deal they couldn’t pass up. As future King and heir to the throne, Mingyu was privy to all these details while you were not. You almost want to laugh. Of course you did not know. Why would anyone bother telling you that your marriage is nothing but a contract? You don’t matter. You are secondary to all other moving parts in this union. A pawn in everyone else’s game of chess.
You almost want to slap yourself for how stupid you have been. To hope that this family wanted to marry you for you, because they heard of the Princess and desired her for their son. It was the first time in your life that you felt like you had worth. But you were wrong, ridiculously naïve. Your value is nothing but political. You…. you are nothing. You have always been nothing. Your brother has confirmed it.
There is only despair. There is no other feeling.
Eunhee seems to notice your change in energy. She hesitates, placing the cup on a small table right by your armrest. The tea lets out soft billows of steam. You watch it.
Eunhee sits next to the table in silence that is deafening. The letter in your lap lays there, under the weight of your hands. You do not have the strength to make anything of the jumbled mess in your head, so you just stare blankly. The Prince, your husband, had not even bothered to accompany you to your chamber like yesterday night. You had not seen him since dinner.
There’s a knock on your door that startles you from your thoughts. Eunhee gets up to answer it. You fold the letter still in your hands, trying to ignore how badly your hands are shaking and placing it on the table next to your cup.
“Champion of His Highness, Sir Choi Seungcheol requests an audience.” Eunhee says.
You blink, surprised. You were anticipating a meeting with your Knight shortly, but not the exact day he received your favor. You nod anyway, and Eunhee promptly turns to open the door. You watch the Knight step in.
He has changed out of his armor. He's wearing a doublet; a padded jacket fitted snugly to his figure, in rich maroon color bearing a coat of arms and rows of gold medals in lines on his breast plate, leg coverings and leather boots. On his hip rests a sheathed sword. Despite the absence of his heavy armor plates, he is broad shouldered and sturdy. He bows deeply.
“My sincerest apologies for disturbing you, Your Highness.” He speaks. It’s the first time you have heard him utter words. His voice is gravelly and deep, but low and undisturbing. You wave off the apology.
“No matter. Why have you come?”
“It is regarding tomorrow’s fair.” He states, walking closer and falling to one knee, stabilising himself near your feet. His hand rests on his raised knee as he speaks, not looking directly at you, but over your shoulder. Your teeth clench. You don’t like that he won’t meet your eyes. It feels like he’s talking to air, to someone insignificant. This is exactly how your mother and father spoke to you. You know he’s doing it out of respect, but it makes your already simmering anger boil a bit more.
“It will be held in the Town Square, and your attendance will be revered.” He continues, not noticing that you’re seething. You try to calm yourself with some covert breaths. “Your Highness will observe from a safe distance. First within your carriage and then from a specially prepared pavilion. There will be an archery contest that will be conducted under your blessing, but besides that, there will not be much duty for Your Highness. I will, of course, escort you throughout it, as well as His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Your heart squeezes painfully at the mention of your husband. Your mood immediately sours.
“Right.” You say in a clipped tone.
The Knight, Seungcheol, stiffens almost imperceptibly. His eyes almost shift to you. Almost. A small silence hangs between you before he speaks again. “Anything that is not to Her Highness’ liking will obviously be altered.”
You did not guess that he would notice your disapproval. You think for a few seconds. You don’t want to sit with the Prince. If you can help it in any way, you want to be far away from him. Should you dare? You find that the irritation simmering just under your skin is giving you courage.
“Can there be separate pavilions?”
You don’t have to see Eunhee to know she is shifting uncomfortably behind you. The Knight is taken aback, so much that he finally meets your eyes. Warm brown, like a shock to the system. His gaze feels like it zips through the air to connect him directly to you. No part of his expression betrays how he feels, but his eyes are open, honest. He gives you the slightest of nods, not looking away. The weight of his stare is heavy, strong. Reassuring.
“Your comfort is my most important duty. It will be arranged as you desire.”
You visibly relax. He understands what you mean. You don’t want to sit next to that man for hours if being in his presence feels like a thousand knives marring your skin. Even if that man is your husband. His betrayal and his lack of acknowledgment of your presence is too much. Any second in his vicinity feels like it is poisoning your blood. Mingyu’s letter, his admission of guilt, has done one thing; it has replaced your despair with boiling rage.
Your Knight knows this. His stare, his promise, is like balm to your wounded soul.
When he leaves and Eunhee retires for the night, you pick up the letter your brother wrote you and carry it to the fireplace. You watch the flames lick over the paper, slowly dissolving it. As the fire burns the ink, you feel like it is actually burning bridges.
Your sleep is deep and dreamless.
……………………………….
You are endlessly grateful that you are dressed down for the fair. Well, dressed down by royal standards, at least. You are still embellished head to toe, but there are fewer layers, so when you sit in your carriage and wait for the Prince to join you so you can leave, you are much more comfortable than you were on your previous travel.
That morning, Eunhee is the only one getting you dressed. It is quiet in your chambers, but Eunhee’s hands are slow, movements staccatoed and rough. You wonder if something is on her mind, and when she laces you up wrong twice before getting it right, you finally speak to her.
“Tell me what is bothering you, Eunhee.”
Her hands pause briefly, but not brief enough for it to go unnoticed. When she inhales, you can see that it is shaky. Something is wrong.
“Eunhee.” You say again, voice softer this time, more open. Finally, she swallows tightly and speaks.
“Her Majesty the Queen called for me last night after I retired from Her Highness’ chambers.” She mumbles, so quietly that you almost don’t hear. You are alone in the large room, but it seems like she still fears being overheard. Her words catch your attention.
“Why so?” You ask.
“Her Majesty was- was asking about Her Highness and His Highness the Crown Prince. Her Majesty wanted to know of your….. relations.”
You feel like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on you. “She wanted to know if we consummated the marriage?”
Eunhee’s face turns beet red. She does not respond. You feel that anger again, the same anger that clouded your senses last night. The Queen is inquiring about your movements like you are some common criminal. As if any of this is your fault, and not her vile son’s.
“What did you say?”
Eunhee quickly shakes her head, not meeting your eyes, her face resolutely turned to the floor, but her voice has hardened. “I told Her Majesty nothing.”
You let out a trembling exhale. You had not expected Eunhee to be loyal to you. You barely know her. Yet, she risked earning the Queen’s displeasure to protect you, someone who still has no footing in this castle.
“Thank you.” You whisper. And you truly mean it. Eunhee’s eyes raise up to meet yours, and you notice for the first time the tiny wrinkles on the corners of her eyes.
“Her Highness was deeply wronged.” She states. You feel your throat tighten. A second passes, and then Eunhee bows her head again, closing her eyes.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
The interaction is heavy on your mind when you sit in the carriage. You know for a fact that Eunhee is right, you have been deeply wronged, and you had stewed in that very sentiment for days. But you had not expected anyone from this castle to understand that feeling. Your own brother tried to justify it, despite being the one person you felt you could trust above all else. It seems everyone within these four walls expected you to take your circumstances in stride. But this handmaid assigned to you could feel your pain, and that made your burden lift just slightly.
You are pulled from your thoughts when the carriage door opens and your Knight, Seungcheol, climbs in right opposite to you. You are surprised when he closes the door behind him, and within seconds, the carriage starts moving under you. You blink.
“Where is the Crown Prince?”
The Knight gestures. “In the carriage behind Her Highness and I.”
You’re surprised. Your next instinct is to ask why, but your voice dies in your throat. Your Knight doesn’t look at you, instead opting to look out of the window.
“Is this your doing?” You ask instead.
He lowers his head slightly, and that essentially confirms it. A small silence hangs between you two. Through the open window, the wind rustles through your hair.
“If I have misread Her Highness’ wishes, I’m sincerely regretful.” He says.
He won’t look at you, still. You grit your teeth.
“Please look me in the eye when you speak to me, Sir Choi.”
He seems caught off guard, but he immediately shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness.”
You tap your foot lightly on the ground, staring at the Knight dead on. “So you can make decisions on my behalf, but you cannot look at me when you speak?”
You can see the moment his jaw ticks, clenching. A tiny tendril of amusement curls in your chest as you watch him battle with himself. It feels good, catching him off guard like this. Finally, he meets your eye. The same blazing brown from last night, illuminated today by the rays of the sun the way they were by the fireplace yesterday. You can’t help but smile.
“Good.” You quip. “Thank you. And thank you for….. arranging separate carriages. You have not misread my wishes at all, Sir Choi.”
He nods, and you see the ghost of a smile cross his lips. They’re plump and pink, and you force yourself to not look at them.
“If Her Highness insists I meet her eyes, then I insist she not call me Sir Choi.”
His tone is softer than the no-nonsense one from yesterday. The tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth shows you that he carries at least some jest in his request. Your amusement swells a little.
“What do you prefer then? Seungcheol?”
Something in the amber burning in his eyes softens. “Yes.”
The collar of your dress feels unusually hot. You watch Seungcheol for a few more moments, finally turning away from the glint in his eyes when you feel like the weight of it is too much to carry. The wind is cool on your heated skin.
You don’t say a word more.
………………………………..
The carriage roof can be peeled all the way back, and as you get closer to the town, Seungcheol bangs the side of it until it slows and stops. Then, he pulls the roof until it collapses, leaving you in open air so the crowds can see you as you arrive. There are some adjustments, some voices, and you hear footsteps from behind you.
“The townspeople will talk if you arrive separately.” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. You nod.
Your husband climbs into the carriage and seats himself next to you. Opposite him, a man settles down beside Seungcheol. You recognise him as Jeonghan, the Prince’s advisor.
“Your Highness.” He greets jovially. “Honored to be in your presence again.”
You nod amicably and give him a soft smile. Your husband doesn’t speak a word, despite not having seen you since last night as well. You do not care. Any kindling of infatuation you have for him died the night you laid alone in your chambers while he slept with another woman. Maybe multiple. You do not have a morsel of interest in the man anymore.
Seungcheol bangs the side of the carriage again. The procession begins moving.
The fair is sensational. You can tell that the townsfolk went all out to the best of their ability, now cheering and clapping as you ride through them, waving. The path your carriage takes is decorated as well, lined with flower petals, and the pavilion where you sit in the Town Square is colorful. Of course, it lacks the grace of most castle decorations, but it has heart. One look at the streaming banners and flower arrangements tells you that it was decorated out of love and admiration, and not out of obligation. You prefer this vastly to the castle ornaments that often feel cold and distant.
You are excited as you sit on the large cushioned chair fashioned into a throne, the Prince on the seat beside yours. Seungcheol stands at your arm, one hand on the hilt of his blade. You wish he would relax a bit, especially as the archery contest begins, but you feel better that he is beside you. You know it is only because you are the Crown Prince’s wife, but Seungcheol’s respect feels…. genuine. Like it extends beyond just his duty. Because if it didn’t, he would not go out of his way to make sure your journey here was comfortable, separating you and the Prince into different carriages. You’re still unsure of how he pulled that off, but you assume the Knight who is Champion to the Princess might have some extra authority not awarded to anyone else.
You manage to have a wonderful time at the fare, meeting the commonfolk who hang on to your every word, the Town’s mayor, other town officials, and some prominent business owners. A lot of them give Seungcheol attention as well, greeting him enthusiastically after receiving wishes from you. When you give your Knight a questioning look, he returns it sheepishly.
“This is my hometown.” He explains.
Ah. You can almost feel it now that he has revealed this fact to you. There is certain warmth in the people here that reflects in him sometimes, when he is not being overly stoic. The kind of warmth you saw in him when you were in the carriage. While he has been hardened by the rigorous years of training for the Royal Guard, some part of him is still defined by where he comes from. You find that notion heartwarming.
There is no part of where you come from that you wish to carry with you, but you are a complete product of it, down to your very bones. You wonder what people see when they look at you from afar, or when they meet you up close. Is any facet of you interesting or admirable? Or is it only your stature as a Princess that they revere? Your title, and not your person?
When the sky gets a little dimmer, it is time for you to leave. Your chest feels heavy, and you almost want to stay longer. But as it always is, you must not dwell. There is no room to stop. You sit in separate carriages again, and Seungcheol tugs the roof of the carriage back into place so the wind doesn’t disturb you. You stare out the window, surroundings blurring as the horses pick up speed. Your insides are comfortably tender.
“I wish to come back here.” You declare, turning to look at the Knight sitting opposite to you. He meets your eye, just as you requested, and you feel like he’s listening, really truly taking in what you have to say instead of letting your words pass him by like everyone else does. He smiles, that gentle uptick of his lips. The long shadows of the golden sunset fall over his pale skin, and you are reminded of swirling letters of poetry on parchment.
“As Her Highness commands.”
When you smile, it’s the first genuine one in days.
……………………………..
You find out in the next few days that you do not see eye to eye with the Queen, your mother in law, at all. Granted, you discovered this when Eunhee confessed to you how the Queen wanted her to blab on you, but it has now become clear that the Queen is really, truly, unconcerned with your feelings.
On your fourteenth day in the castle, you are introduced to your ladies-in-waiting, hand picked by the Queen, and you quickly realise these women are not meant to cater to your likeness at all. They are nothing but reflections of what the Queen would like you to be. There are seven of them, and they all behave and carry themselves a certain way. A collection of Noblemen’s and aristocrats’ daughters all educated and trained within the walls of the castle. They sit with you during breakfast and accompany you as you tour the gardens that day. You have still not seen the majority of the castle, and these days, you are shown around by your Knight, Seungcheol, or your husband’s advisor, Jeonghan, when he rarely has the time. Jeonghan is quick witted and sharp, an absolute joy to have a conversation with. He toes the line between formality and informality, unlike Seungcheol, who always speaks to you with carefully chosen words. However, around Jeonghan, Seungcheol becomes slightly more loose-lipped, which is very amusing to you, and gives you a look into his personality more. You learn quickly that both of them are fast, childhood friends. Jeonghan loves to tease the man, and Seungcheol, despite all his composure, is quick to be affected by his friend’s jests.
“You shouldn’t wander off into the grounds with only your company, Princess.” Jeonghan says one day, his tone playful. “Seungcheol here would lose his head.”
Seungcheol balks and winces, glaring at Jeonghan, but the heat in it fades when you let out a delighted laugh.
“Oh, I’m sure that is not possible. He is at my door every morning when dawn breaks. I cannot step foot outside without him in tow.”
Seungcheol huffs but there is no heat behind it. “Do I hover, Your Highness?”
“You do.” You nod. Jeonghan laughs in that choppy, giggly way of his. You give him a subtle wink when Seungcheol is busy taking a deep, stabilising breath to stop himself from telling you both how it’s his ‘duty’ and that he ‘took an oath of fealty’. Jeonghan has already teased him about that speech. His lips tug up, pushing together, and you honestly believe that your Knight, Champion to the Princess, Commander of the Royal Guard’s largest garrison, is pouting.
When you turn your head to meet his eyes, you give him a playful smile.
“Don’t be petulant, Sir Choi.”
Jeonghan ‘oooh’s in a way that pulls another laugh out of you. Seungcheol is fighting back a smile.
Today, however, Jeonghan is not present as your ladies in waiting traipse through the flower gardens along the west wall with you. Seungcheol is there, as always, but a few feet behind all of you to maintain respect. The ladies are very chatty, which is good because you can just listen without contributing too much, but a few hours into the day, the buzz of conversation starts to numb your brain.
Mid-afternoon, you excuse yourself with a headache, trudging back to your chambers after they all bow to you and you dismiss them. The corridor to your doors is blissfully silent, and you sigh loudly.
“Too much for your taste, Your Highness?”
You huff but don’t look back at your Knight. “Very. I’m drained.”
He lets out an airy chuckle, and your lip ticks up at the sound.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Chief Advisor and I bother you just as much when we accompany you.”
You laugh. “Not at all. Your conversations are endlessly amusing. Stimulating. I enjoy spending time with you.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and he doesn’t say anything more, but you swear you hear a breath hitch. The clanking of his chainmail sounds with it, so you are unsure. You don’t dwell on the thought.
When you reach your chamber doors, Seungcheol holds them open for you. You linger at the threshold, looking up at him with an exasperated expression.
“Must I spend all my days with them?”
His face is painted with amusement, and he nods. “I’m afraid so. The only way to avoid them is if you have official events and meetings.”
You hum and purse your lips, dejected. Seungcheol’s face clouds a little, like he is in thought.
“I can stretch your schedule, if you like. To keep you busy.”
You make a face. You don’t much like royal commitments. They are often stuffy and overly performative. Both options seem tiresome, whether it is meetings, or free days with a gaggle of talkative girls. You have another thought.
“You will be with me during any schedule set for me?” You ask.
Seungcheol nods. “Of course, Princess.”
“And no one else?”
He pauses. “I’m not sure. It depends on the nature of the schedule.”
You nod slowly. “Only you. And Eunhee.”
Your statement catches him off guard. He stares at you for a few long seconds, before he realises what he is doing and blinks, breaking the contact and looking down.
“As you wish.” He mutters. His shoulders have curved in slightly. His ears are tinged pink. You smile and step inside.
Eunhee is waiting for you with tea. You give her a grateful smile before settling into your armchair. You have subconsciously claimed this one as your spot, and Eunhee has learned to arrange everything around it to your convenience. She places your cup delicately on the table.
“How was your first day with the ladies in waiting, Your Highness?”
You let out a painful sigh. “They are….. enthusiastic.”
Eunhee smiles as she cuts fruit. You watch her.
Ever since Eunhee swore loyalty to you, you have formed a bond with her that you haven’t had with anyone for a long time. You had dismissed Hana immediately after Eunhee told you who she was, and you had asked Seungcheol to completely pack Eunhee’s day from top to bottom with tasks, on her request, so she could remain hidden either in your chambers, or with the seamstresses, or in the kitchens, away from the Queen’s eyes, so she may not sink her claws into Eunhee again. That had resulted in long stretches of time where it was just her and you.
You learn that Eunhee is married, and her husband is a soldier for the Royal Guard, a man named Soonyoung who is part of the garrison that Seungcheol leads. She got married merely a year before you, and the reason she was chosen as your personal maid was that she came heavily recommended by Jeonghan, who is wonderful friends with Soonyoung and has known Eunhee for a while.
“My mother worked for the Chief Advisor’s mother.” Eunhee explained to you. “The lady watched me grow up and trained within the castle walls. She and the Chief Advisor both believed I was best suited for your needs.”
“I’m glad.” You had said. “You are…. all I have, Eunhee.”
Her returning look had been forlorn.
“You have Sir Choi too, Your Highness.” She said. “He is loyal to you.”
You gave her a bitter smile. “He is loyal to the Crown.”
She shook her head immediately. “He is loyal to your Crown. He received favor from Your Highness, not the King. He serves you, not anyone else.”
When you didn’t reply, she just smiled.
“You will see, Princess.”
Eunhee’s words, her promise, stays with you in the days after that conversation, and it makes everything more noticeable. You feel Seungcheol’s care in little actions, your schedule explained to you beforehand and tweaked to cater every request, his physical presence, constantly behind you by five paces, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who interacts with you. When someone steps too close, he steps in, one arm extended to maintain distance between yourself and anyone else. And he makes exceptions for no one. Anything you want is arranged the second it falls from your lips, even if it’s a request as small as more comfortable seating, or as large as rearranging castle staff to whoever your liking suits. Seungcheol is with you, as said, from the moment the sun rises to the moment the moon is high in the sky and you retire to your bed. He does not leave until Eunhee leaves, and the guards outside your doors are meticulously picked and stationed by him.
“Your life and safety are my biggest priority.” He always says, a phrase that is said so resolutely, you would think it is seared into his brain. You don’t question it, because he leaves no room for doubt.
Eunhee’s words remain. They always remain. Like a balm on your injured, broken heart.
You think of your husband in fleeting thoughts. During Court, you sit by his side, the perfect new couple who will eventually take the throne and give the nation their next heir. The Court Advisors, Councillors and Noblemen have warmed up to you well enough, but of course, the Crown Prince is their main focus. You are nothing but his wife, at this point. An extension of him. A poorly kept, ignored, discarded extension.
He barely steps into your shared chambers. He barely exchanges words with you. You see Hana sometimes, and she bows weakly. She meets your eyes. Her necklace is gold, her perfume is disrespectfully strong. There are others. A councillor’s daughter. A nobleman’s. A royal guard’s. Eunhee tells you, repeatedly, that they are beneath you, but you conclude that it hurts worse that way, to be humiliated by those who are and will never be your equal, but are preferred by your own husband over you.
You are unable to explain to anyone how painful it is to feel your soul crack at its very foundations.
Seungcheol comes to you in the morning with an appointment that fills your heart with dread.
“There is a visiting envoy of foreign noblewomen arriving at the castle gates in four hours.” He says from where he sits in front of your fireplace, a few pieces of lengthy parchment in his hands that he is poring over. You stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror, watching yourself as Eunhee straightens your skirts, smoothing the wrinkles and adjusting the layers. It’s a grander dress than your usual attire, given the visitors entering the castle soon. You listen to Seungcheol tell you all the details quietly.
“Originally, Her Majesty the Queen was going to handle it herself, but this morning she specifically stated that your presence is mandatory as the new bride.”
You scoff, an undignified sound you would only dare let out in front of your handmaid and your Knight. “I have been living in this castle for four months. I’m hardly a new bride.”
“You are new to the visitors, Princess.” Seungcheol explains, ever patient with you. “The last time they were here, you were not married.”
You just grit your jaw tightly and don’t reply. You try to avoid the Queen unless it’s during Court or audiences. There too, you sit in silence and focus more on others than her. You know she is not particularly fond of you because you have not taken your husband’s lifestyle in stride. Many times, you have overheard her talk loudly to her ladies-in-waiting, claiming that you are arrogant and disobedient, and think too highly of yourself to be acting like you are.
“Men will always require more attention than one woman can give.” She would sneer. “It’s in their nature. She should be grateful that others are taking her load and providing their services.”
“Quite right, Your Majesty.” A lady in her entourage would quip, one who is many years the Queen’s junior, and very famously one of the King’s concubines. Even the thought that the Queen has kept one of her husband’s mistresses as her lady-in-waiting is appalling to you, but you know you are alone in these feelings. Within these castle walls, this is normal. Being chosen by royal blood for nightly attendances is considered the highest honor for these women, and they vie for the men’s interest. The very notion makes you sick to your stomach. You can never be like them. It would kill you.
You draw in a long, steadying breath at the thought of joining the Queen for today. You know that the whole day you will be weighed heavy with passive aggression and rude remarks. Not only does the Queen not forbid her ladies from being disrespectful to you, she actively encourages it. As you think about what awaits you as you walk down from your chambers, Seungcheol watches you closely.
“I know it will be difficult.” He mumbles. “I’m sincerely apologetic, Princess. I tried to schedule you for another commitment, but even I cannot raise a voice louder than the Queen.”
You wave his apology away. “Don’t fret, Seungcheol. Sometimes you have to face the music. Today is just that day for me.”
He shakes his head, never allowing himself to fall in step with you. At the bottom of the stairs, you turn to give him a smile. “I’m only upset you won’t be with me today.”
Seungcheol meets your eyes briefly, letting out a small chuckle and looking away. He still can’t look at you directly for more than a few seconds still, especially not somewhere that other people can see.
“Anytime you need me, just send for me.” He says, like it’s a placation. It is. You nod and smile.
It goes worse than you ever could have imagined.
The envoy is filled with older women who have known your mother in law for a long time. You are introduced to all of them with a certain distasteful tone in the Queen’s voice, and are bombarded with a flurry of questions, the most common one being why on earth you are not with child yet. You bite your lip on all of them, throughout the feast, the tour of the castle grounds afterwards, then tea. You listen to them gossip and giggle, and since you’re the new attraction, most jabs end up aimed at you. Catty and sharp, like knives, and they all take their liberties further when they see that the Queen is egging them on.
You’re exhausted.
“Straighten up.” The Queen says sharply from next to you as you stand in the castle gardens towards the north gate. You stiffen your body immediately, but she still seems unsatisfied.
“You have been cold and rude to our guests all day.” She states. “Is this how you’ve been raised? Some royalty you are. I should’ve known your ragged family would raise a petulant, disrespectful girl.”
Your mouth tightens. You don’t say anything. She sneers audibly.
“Be under no illusions, girl. There are many who can give this throne an heir. It doesn’t have to be you. You’re disposable to everyone in this castle.”
She shifts her attention back to the happenings around you. You feel like your ears are ringing.
It is after the dinner feast that you are finally excused from your duties. You trudge slowly back to your chambers. Your posture is still stiff and pulled up, like you’re marching through Court with hundreds of eyes on you. Your muscles are pulled taut, and your ears are still ringing. Something has formed a knot at the apex of your throat, and it has not loosened for many hours.
“Your Highness.” You hear his voice from behind you, and your steps halt. You hear the heavy thud of his leather boots on the stone floors. He stops next to you. You don’t look at him.
“Princess.” His voice has lowered, and it is tinged with caution when you don’t respond. “You are distressed.”
It is not a question, but rather a statement. He has been with you every day for months. So he knows. There is no doubt.
“I am weary, Seungcheol.” You whisper. You hear your voice waver. Your stare is blank and distant.
You feel a hand then, strong and sure, on your back, between your shoulder blades. A gentle nudge makes your feet move again, and slowly, you walk down the long hall that leads to your chambers.
You don’t know how you end up in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It’s already roaring, ready, and you try to make your muscles melt into the cushion. But they won’t cooperate, tight and unmoving. Hours of being on alarm has left you rock solid.
“I will send for Eunhee.” Seungcheol says after you’ve seated yourself. Before he can move away, your hand shoots up, gripping his wrist tightly.
“Don’t leave.” Your voice is frailer than you would like it to be, but you can no longer fake being strong after so many hours of doing so. Seungcheol looks shocked, eyes shooting to where your hand holds his arm. You take it away, but you give him a pleading look. Immediately, he nods, lowering himself to one knee on the floor near your feet.
For a few long moments, there is only silence. Then, you take a shaky breath.
“Most days I feel like I’m floating.” You say. “Untethered and weightless.
Like my presence holds no bearing in these walls.”
Seungcheol doesn’t speak.
“I mean nothing.” You continue. “I have meant nothing my entire life. I was a second-born daughter to a throne that already had its heir. Now I am married into a family where women are objects for their men’s whims and an indulgence for their bad habits.”
You look at your Knight, down on one knee before you. He watches you openly, his eyes soft, a warm brown you can lose yourself in.
“What is my worth, Seungcheol?” You muse, pressure building behind your eyes. “What do I mean to anyone here?”
You can see when Seungcheol’s lips part. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He takes his time, like he is searching for words.
“My mother was a lady-in-waiting for Her Majesty the Queen.” He states.
You blink, shocked. He nods, as if to reaffirm the sentence.
“She was selected before the then Princess was even married into the royal family, and introduced to the Princess one week after her arrival here. Three of the ladies-in-waiting for the Princess were the then Prince’s mistresses.”
“The Queen knew even before she was married how things worked within these walls. She knew her husband had mistresses, and her only goal as soon as she arrived at the castle was to bear unto him an heir. She felt that it was the one thing that would give her more value than any other woman in her husband’s bed. The thing that would separate her from them.”
You listen in dead silence.
“My mother watched all this.” He says. “She watched the Queen take any measure to gain her husband’s attention. The minute she knew she was with child, her husband mattered to her no more. She earned respect within these walls because she was carrying his blood. She established herself as that only, the mother of the heir. Not the Queen. Not the bearer of the Crown. Her pride came from her son.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What are you implying, Seungcheol?”
Your Knight blinks, then smiles. But it is sad, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I imply nothing, Princess. I am merely explaining that the Queen is so harsh with you because you are everything she wasn’t. And that scares her. She fears what she does not know and cannot predict.”
He lowers his head and continues speaking. “You may feel weightless and inconsequential. But there is strength behind your refusal to cater to the Prince. You have made a statement that you won’t let yourself be degraded like she was her entire life. Your lack of submission makes her furious. She thinks her reminders of your disposability will break you.”
When he lifts his head again, his eyes have hardened just slightly with a fire that pierces your heart. “You must not break, Your Highness.”
You stare at him for a long time. The resolute jut of his jaw, the way his eyes lock on you for this prolonged period of time, something he has never done before. The shadows from the fireplace dance over his face, but they don’t undercut the determination in his expression.
“Why?” You whisper in the quiet of the room. “Why are you so loyal to me, Seungcheol? You do not know me. You know the people in this castle. I am a mere outsider.”
He shakes his head, still not looking away. His gaze is like a comfortable weight around your shoulders.
“My mother told me about the Queen to prepare me for how you would be as well.” He speaks quietly. “I went into your service fully expecting you to be complacent to this system. But you weren’t.”
Seungcheol slowly lowers himself from one knee to both. Your breath hitches. He’s kneeling on both knees, the ultimate form of devotion to a royal.
“You were headstrong and unwilling to give in to whatever demands were imposed on you.” His eyes flicker and dim. “I am ashamed to admit that I assumed you would be like the princess before you. But you resisted, and you set boundaries. You refused to give yourself to a man who didn’t share your values. That is endlessly admirable to me, Your Highness. You are endlessly admirable to me.”
He breaks your gaze then, and lowers his head slowly. You feel his forehead brush just over the fabric on your knee.
“A spirit like yours is unlike any that are housed in these four walls. And it is my duty to keep it alive. I’m devoted to you and you only, and receiving your favor was the way I could ensure I would be your personal Guard. I fought in that joust tooth and nail after I heard of your supposed refusal to cater to the Prince. I wanted to be in service to you. If I was to give duty to this Crown, I only wanted it to be yours.”
You watch Seungcheol with bated breath, like inhaling or exhaling could break the air around you. You want nothing to disturb this moment. Your chest feels full. That knot in your throat is gone. You are left only with the warmth of the fireplace, and the sizzle on your knee where Seungcheol’s forehead presses to it, his head lowered and his hair lightly brushing the velvet of your dress.
You think of the Queen’s words. ‘You are disposable to everyone in this castle’, and then you look at the man kneeling before you, his forehead pressed to your leg, his broad frame curled on himself. The weightless feeling in your heart feels a tug, like someone is pulling it down, grounding it, making it feel like you have substance.
synopsis: Seungcheol always considered himself to be yours. That had always been true and will be true. He considered himself to be a rather good friend, thank you very much and always had your back behind the scenes. If only the transition between friends and lovers were as easy. The trials and tribulation of Choi Seungcheol as he battled his own instincts while falling hard for his old friend were never going to be simple.
Five times Seungcheol wanted to have a meal with you, and the one time while eating, you didn't leave things as they were.
word count: 8.4k
notes, warnings: part two to you always come to the party. it is important that you read it for the plot to make sense. best friend seungcheol x reader, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, non idol au, Seungcheol and reader are the same age. there's a lot of past lore. kind of insecure and hesitant seungcheol as this is his pov of the events from part one. a lot of the same plot, but his side. theres some texting, CRINGR attempt at humor… seventeen, twice, eunha(gfriend/viviz) and hyeri(girl’s day) members make cameos, reader lowkey don’t listen to seungcheol, THEY FIGHT AND ARGUE…. BUT MAKE UP (kinda), CURSE WORDS. ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION
authors note: hey guys. thank you for your love and support. I'm in tears. more from me at the end later. enjoy reading! <3 also this is based off of yours by damon's year. the lyrics also make sense in this context hehe. ALSO English isn’t my first language, apologies for any grammatical errors 💔
Barbecue 🍖
Initially, when Seungcheol had asked if you were free for dinner, he was planning to just eat with you in silence. He had everything planned out: a place close to yours, delicious food, and candlelight for its ambiance. But when you mentioned not having seen the rest of your friends in a while, he couldn’t help but wonder out loud about having a group gathering instead.
Which led to the current scenario, where he watched you gulp down a shot that wasn’t yours in the first place. You did it often, feeling paternal for the younger ones (which they were barely), and he saw the wince you took as the alcohol burned its way down your throat. It was as if the world was at half-speed. Everyone was cheering you on, but from his point of view, everyone’s voices were malfigured— almost haunting.
He’d liked you for a good while now. He remembered seeing you join his and Jeonghan’s class back in high school, and he considered himself a goner since then. You had a hard time at first, since the class had travelled together from elementary to their bubbling teenhood. Seungcheol was proud to think that he took you under his wing, but if Joshua heard any of that, he’d laugh in Seungcheol’s face.
Rather, it was you who took Seungcheol under your coat.
Seungcheol was the youngest in his family, but at school, he could break from those rules placed on him and earned respect on his own terms. Class president, Captain of the Football team, friends with the cafeteria ladies, Top of the class, almost any achievement, and Seungcheol would already have it grasped or was on his way to making it.
When you guys initially became friends, he felt the need to prove himself to you, as well. He’d always felt a pang of happiness when he’d been picked first for the seekers team when playing hide and seek at the ripe age of eight. He’d grown out of it, of course, but he couldn’t help but try to grab your bag one day, as you both walked home after school.
The sky was turning more ochre by the second. It was going to be six any moment, and yet, both of your steps only grew slower. His panting had stopped earlier when you both dropped by the convenience store for ice cream. Football practice today was extremely brutal. He’d argued with a junior in the locker room before apologizing and running off to the school entrance, where you’d been waiting, smile on your face. Your eyes sparkled a lot back then.
Without really thinking about it, he took your bag from your back and added to his load.
You stopped and looked at him.
“Don’t carry my bag, especially when you’re tired. You don’t always have to be the strong one.”
And without looking at his face, you’d snatch your bag and take his football bag in one go and run forward.
He huffed, a smile on his face, and chased after you, the weight on his shoulder a tad lighter, watching you scurry on ahead.
Your youthful figure transitioned to the bent version of yourself in front of him, hoisting Hyeri’s almost-limp self off your hip. His head shook at this memory as Soonyoung coughed against his shoulder in the elevator. When did you find the time to take care of everyone, even mighty Choi Seungcheol? He’d then watched you hunch your back, unlacing Hyeri’s shoes before setting Soonyoung onto your couch easily, then preparing water for you.
You’d dragged yourself onto his shoulders eventually. His stomach was still hungry for something. He didn’t know when he’d get to sit down with you and rest. He was tired, but he knew about your state too. To him, the silent was daft. It was dense, but not uncomfortably so. It was only uncomfortable because his throat felt scratchy, for what he was thinking but did not know how to phrase. He wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. A precious friend who also deserved to be protected and hidden away.
“Why’d you do it?” He'd finally murmured, after thinking long.
“What did I do, Cheol?” You had hissed, most likely from pain.
To you, it was just another unforgettable moment, but to him, it was as if time stood still when he watched you slip the drink in without much complaint and restraint. Even though he was worried, he'd collected his thoughts and formulated a neutral response. “Drink Soonie’s punishment shot. You know you didn’t have to, right?” He couldn't help but press against your temple. He knew alcohol often left you in shambles.
“I know, but I wanted to.”
He felt such fondness wrap around him as he heard your genuine response. Your voice sounded vulnerable in a way it hadn’t in a while. It was as if Seungcheol was transported back to the days of your youths, enjoying summer nights with ice cream battles and football practices all over again. Of course, he’d missed the days you all spent carefully, up to the tears he had shed at graduation, thinking you looked like a bright, summery dream in your own graduation cap. Now, in his eyes, he felt as if you had been shrinking as the days passed by, constantly cocooned in work. Seungcheol couldn’t think back to the last time when the two of you enjoyed a simple meal where he felt your shoulders droop, in happiness. He’d like to plan something soon enough, if you’d let him, that is.
He’d waited until your breathing slowed, your body limp, and helped you into bed. Seeing the two girls sleeping side by side, he uttered a quiet confession next to your sleeping ears.
“I want to be the strong one for you.”
Knife-cut noodles 🍜
Wonwoo had actually asked Seungcheol out for lunch earlier, but he had declined. It wasn’t because Seungcheol wasn’t hungry, but more so because it was a Tuesday. The only day when both you and Seungcheol could have lunch together. On Tuesdays, Seungcheol’s Lunch breaks started a whole thirty minutes earlier than yours, meaning he was free to travel around and had time to drive into Gangnam for no apparent reason. He was just loitering during his break. Of course.
The two of you had called in late at night while you prepared your presentation, and he was sipping tea by your side, going through his unanswered emails. Sleep came to him especially late, and not until he heard your tired snores erupt through his speaker.
He felt guilty when he found out that Wonwoo eventually ended up leaving an important file behind at some random restaurant and saw your messages. Already on the way, he sent some messages into the group chat, only for them to fall on silent (more so distracted) ears.
He almost stumbles into Mrs Kong’s restaurant, seeing a rather grumpy man at the front desk.
“My friend, file, forgot it here.” He somehow lets out, breath almost lost from running into the store. Parking was insane around this area.
The uncle looks on, unimpressed.
“You’re late, son. A pretty lady already picked it up looooong ago!” The man said with an attitude unbecoming of such a kind, youthful, and old face.
Seungcheol internally groaned. He knew how ambitious you were. He knew how amazingly well you were able to handle time crunches. He was the same; the two of you were cut from similar cloth. It was a bit amazing when he stopped to look at your work ethic from afar, but as the man who’d been in love with you for quite some time, he had understood well enough how anxious and nervous you probably got. If he was calculating your lunch break and driving time, you were probably only reaching your office by now.
“Forget it then,” Seungcheol looked at the name tag on the uncle’s flower vest, “Uncle Pi Cheolin, may I have noodles to go?”
The man grunted and punched in his order.
“With extra sesame oil, please.”
-
By the time Seungcheol reached your branch in Gangnam, curls of broth followed around him. The cold winter didn’t help, especially with the way his stomach was grumbling in this harsh wind. Seungcheol flashed his employee card, which honestly should’ve been an alarming notion to the receptionist on your floor. Why would an employee from the Yeouido Branch be at the Gangnam branch during work hours? But the receptionist knew you well, and by relation, knew Seungcheol well, who flashed an extra cheesy smile at Dahyun, who rolled her eyes in amusement.
He left the insulated bag with warm noodles at your desk, fretting with its position on your table for a few minutes before ultimately scratching off the price of the food. He’d never do that to you. And he meant it, almost thirty minutes later, when he immediately sent you your money back. (He was genuinely surprised at how well you were able to estimate the price. A close 28,600 Won, for anyone wondering.) He felt terrible for lying to you about his own lunch, but he didn’t want you to feel guilty for his own impulsive decision.
As he spent the rest of his self-proclaimed break in his car with a simple cheese kimbap, he hoped that you were genuinely enjoying your meal heartily.
-
“Seungcheol, hey! I’m really sorry for not clearing stuff with you about the folder. I feel bad that I wasted your time, and also hers. I know she didn’t get to have lunch, and I’m sure the commute also sucked ass for you,” Wonwoo’s muffled voice came from his phone that evening.
“Oh, Wonwoo, don’t worry about it! It was also wrong of me to still go even though she clearly mentioned going. It was rash of me as well.” He’d said after a while, humor in his voice about the whole thing as he recounted the events internally.
“It was rather rash, I’m not gonna lie, especially for you Coups,” Wonwoo whispered, “but you’ve always been like that when it involves her,” He teased.
Seungcheol’s hands stopped stirring the pot as he listened to Wonwoo’s joking words seriously.
Seungcheol settled for a “Yeah, you’re right.”
Carrots and mushrooms 🥕 🍄🟫
Seungcheol had an amazing day. One of the best weekends he’d had in a while. He’d gathered with some of the guys and had a great game of foot volleyball on Saturday, following it up by sleeping in on Sunday, which he hadn’t done since that time he’d caught a cold. Lunch had been a casual affair, boiling water for a boring flavor of cup noodles. His eyes were swollen, and he was slightly hungover, but even the boring broth of the cup noodles enticed his taste buds, especially with that dull thrum behind his eyes.
When he’d woken up at 11, he’d texted you for maybe a quick lunch, but you’d refused, citing some work plans which left him dejected, which he openly expressed with a big thumbs down emoji. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the next 12 thumbs down emojis that followed, consecutively. No worries, though. He’d surprise you some other day and let you cool down on your own for the next 12 hours before Monday. Dreaded Monday, where the often sleeveless hoodie-wearing Seungcheol donned monotone, corporate wear, and his often crass language was replaced with finance jargon that nobody cared for.
He planned to rest until the evening, but a sudden alarm at 4pm awoke him from his Netflix binge.
Crap.
Crap indeed, because the rate at which Seungcheol wore a clean pantsuit set and the closest tie must’ve been a new record. By 4:22pm, he’d been out of his door, and by 4:48pm, he reached the wedding venue with 12 minutes to spare. Talk about being on a time crunch!
Seungcheol greeted the groom and his family at the entrance, along with the bride’s family, and an old coworker at his previous company. He’d entered the hall, passing off the wedding gift in a grey envelope before walking over to his assigned table, where Joshua had already been seated. A side hug and a quick toast later, Joshua and Seungcheol cheered the newlyweds on.
“Dude, what time will you arrive on Thursday?” Joshua had asked once the conversation had dulled.
“For Seungkwan and Eunha’s match? Probably 5, after work.” He had concluded.
“Dude, Eunha’s injured. Our dear Gangnam branch head took over Eunha. I would think she would’ve told you earlier with how much she’s awaiting her victory,” Joshua had laughed, but Seungcheol didn’t feel like laughing. He knew you kicked butt at badminton. He also knew that you and Seungkwan played in high school. Seungcheol also knew you’d have to leave work early on Thursday for it. He didn’t know that you were going to be joining as a player until today. He processed his emotions, his head suddenly empty despite the commotion of wedding festivities around him. It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t informed (that was a lie, he was dying and had flowers blooming out of his lungs, hanahaki style) but the fact that he knew for a fact that you’d been busy. With more collaborations between the Yeouido branch and Gangnam branch, he knew you’d been swamped. Seungcheol himself was drained, which was why he took the initiative to enjoy his weekends to the fullest. Hearing that you added more responsibility to your own plate caused him to unknowingly shiver.
“Oh yeah, she’s probably still stuck in practice. But she said she’d finish up by six.”
Before leaving the hall, he couldn't help but take a picture of the sky.
-
Seungcheol stopped by a nearby grocery store before letting himself into your home. His shoes were neatly arranged, and he had removed his coat in frustration, leaving it on your couch. But he only felt guilty and solemnly moved it to your coat rack along with his tie.
Seungcheol breathed in and exhaled. He didn't know why he was feeling so exasperated about this whole situation. You were a grown adult who could make choices, such as the way you handled your time, your work, and most importantly, your friendships and relationships. The last time he'd been this frustrated with you was in college, when you'd applied for a TA's position while being sick and juggling a part-time job at the convenience store. He'd only been forgiven for blasting you out in your private DMs after he bought you ice cream for two days, consecutively, at the convenience store you worked at. (You folded rather quickly, looking back. But this was Choi Seunghceol we were talking about.)
The first thing he noticed when you walked in was the slight limp. He was humming a random melody and saw you in your badminton kit. It had been a while since he last saw you in sportswear, but you looked flushed. You didn't look surprised, and he wanted to smile at you when you smacked him, but he held back, still pretending to hold up the upset facade.
The mushrooms were sizzling in the pan, and the strong scent of sesame oil was sizzling into the tiles of the room. He knew you were watching from behind, and he finally broke the silence.
"Carrot and mushroom stir-fry," Seungcheol pouted, upset and hiding his slight frown from you. He thought you had nodded until he heard the doors to your bedroom close, with muffled water streams following afterwards.
Seungcheol dutifully continued to prepare the rest of the meal. He heard you setting up the table. In his head, he couldn't help but internally squeal at how domestic this all was. He shifted his eyes to the sight of his coat and tie next to your badminton bag on the coat rack and couldn't help but think of what it would feel like if this were the norm. His heart began to race, but he broke out of his trance when some oil from the pan popped and sizzled onto his hand that was stirring the contents.
-
It didn't feel like an argument when Seungcheol began to express his doubts, frustrations, and worry about you, at first initially. But things change when emotions get involved, and he knew he struck a nerve when he mentioned questioning your actions. He knew he crossed a line somewhere there and almost retracted, if it weren't for the way you brushed off the conversation and tried to divert it into your casual banter.
“Why are you even here? to lecture me?” You had said, mimicking a child's voice to the best of your abilities.
Seungcheol didn't accept the olive branch immediately. He ignored the way you looked at him as he piled food into your own bowl, when he mentioned what had truly, honestly hurt him. he was shocked that he actually mentioned it to you, when he'd been denying it to himself all night.
"Josh told me you said yes to Seungkwan today, and that your practice would finish up by six. And also that you’ve been preparing for a week already. Just knew you’d be too tired to cook,”
He felt a bit embarrassed. It wasn't like you guys were dating or married and you'd have to inform him of every life choice you'd make, especially those that had no concern for him. Maybe it hurt that perhaps even after all this time, you might still consider him just a friend tagging along for the ride, not as a genuine companion, be it platonically or romantically.
He brushed all his thoughts aside as he started washing the dishes. He enjoyed the feeling of you dragging his folder sleeves, begging him to give you your sponge and dishwashing liquid, and he had only pouted and told you to go rest, sternly. He had also watched you waddle onto your couch, as he cleaned up the kitchen and table from the neat mess he made, before finally settling down on the couch next to you, comfortably wordless.
He'd left late that night, but not before giving you a long hug and exhaling a brief apology into your hair.
-
seungkwan boo
you: seungkwan where r u?
you: hello r u ok???
you: shes alone and ur Match is in like 7 mins wtf
you: vro
seungkwan boo: bathroom not too good rn
seungkwan boo: I don't wanna leave it like this but i can't play rn
you: can I borrow ur extra jersey
Seungcheol snagged his shirt off in front of everyone. He didn't care that girls and guys from the neighbourhood were ogling at his figure, not when his eyes could only focus on the way you seemed to walk towards the court, your shoulders slumped. He shrugged on Seungkwan's Jersey, ignoring the way his biceps were restricted, and exchanged his shoes with Mingyu's. He also welcomed himself to your spare racket (the crazy expensive one, of course).
A lot of people didn't know that the only reason he wasn't a badminton player was that he was only a slightly better football player, and boy, did he play football. He squared himself and jogged onto the court, catching up behind you.
When Seungcheol joined you on court, he couldn't help but feel his pulse jump, enjoying the relief in your eyes. He got into position. His phone buzzed as he signed his name on the referee's sheet. It went ignored.
-
new!
seungkwan boo: im otw onto court, I'm okay now!
-
The only thing Seunghceol could think of was you shaking him with a force unprecedented. He could only smile, gummy and eyes crinkled in joy as you took this surprising victory alongside him.
He could only relish in the hug you gave him, hearing the hoots from the court-side, after he felt the racket fall from his palm.
Outside was a different story. He felt shy, as if he was stuck with his crush against his will (Half-true, Seungcheol would say). Seungcheol saw the silver medal sparkle against your chest, and he was proud. incredibly. He had wanted to say so much, but it seemed that all you left him nowadays was speechless.
“I’m sorry,” you had started, “I know you were only worried that night, and I kinda just brushed you off. Have been brushing you off for a while now. I’m sorry you also found out from Joshua. Didn’t think it was that important.”
Your apology left him a bit surprised, but he covered it up with a response of his own, thanks to his quick thinking. he had genuinely apologised for his actions, hating the way the two of you had only shared brief conversations over the course of four days.
“Just, care for yourself more.” He added, thoughtfully, “I’m also sorry. You just came back from a tiring day, and I questioned you like a crazy boyfriend in your own home.” He stepped closer, and with it came the two of you sharing a bubble of breath. He could taste the salt in the air, the humidity in the air, and most importantly, the brief tension that had arisen from his bold move.
He then further made another bold move by comparing himself to a crazy boyfriend, which somehow broke the tension, yet made it stronger. Average Choi Seungcheol moment (you would've said, if it weren't for your own tongue being rendered useless).
Eventually, the moment eased down, and all he could feel was how carefree he felt when you were around. His whole body felt weightless, and in this moment, he felt as if he were the luckiest man alive to share such intricate, minuscule moments in your presence.
He had said something to break the silence and had thought back to various moments of his own sports achievements, with you by his side through most of them, of course.
A moment flashed behind his eyes as he remembered a random football game against some random elementary kids, where he'd shot an almost deflated football into the makeshift goal, but not before screaming out your full name and professing it was all for you.
Another time, when he'd been running a potato sack race, and he fell on his face, getting scratches along his cheekbones and lips, a fiery urge to win because his competition included a pretty-boy junior (poor Chan), you tutored in your free time.
And the latest one, where he remembered looking at your face as it crumpled in euphoria from this joint win. If only he were stronger, he would've confessed brightly into your ears about how much he adored you.
Looking at you, his determination to transition further from friends ignited a tiny bit more.
“You’re Choi Seungcheol, our batch’s crazy, competitive, corporate boy.” You chuckled at him.
He was crazy, competitive, was in love with you, worked in corporate, and did he mention, in love with you?
Soup and rice 🥣
Seungcheol had a terrible day if he was going to speak from the heart. He tried to find some silver lining along the course of the day, but all he could think about was how a new intern spilled their 'matcha of the day' onto his favorite shirt, which you had gotten him. It was a hot day, and the only way he could cover it up was by wearing his stupid coat. The same intern then, somehow cc'd a spam email to almost everyone in the building, which left Seunghcheol's monitor gone for a good thirty minutes, leaving him to read and reply to meetings on his phone. And most importantly, his car was left at the mechanic overnight due to some overheating. He got home by walking. He was going insane in this overworked summer heat.
But at least, if he was having a bad day, he knew someone who was probably having a worse one: you (affectionately, of course)! Because reaching home at ten, an empty stomach after a long day, to see your building's elevator wonky, would mostly ruin his day. At least Seungcheol lived on the third floor. You lived on the seventh, typical city girl.
bane of existence 🥰
bane of existence 🥰: just got off of work and u won’t believe my frickin chungus life rn
you: wtf it’s like 10 y did u just finish work
you: what happened
bane of existence 🥰: long story BUT my apartment elevator is BROCKEN
you: 😂😂😂😂😂😂
bane of existence 🥰: u have NOTHINF to be laughing about . Now im about to be tired AND hungry 😂💔😂💔😂
bane of existence: at least no work tmr 😎
It had only taken those messages for his hunger to erupt in his stomach. It was late, and he took a taxi to the closest convenience store near your apartment building.
He would cook you a meal, but he was exhausted. And, he was sure you'd understand! Which was why his basket contained Triangular Kimbaps, electrolytes, Probiotic yoghurts, Convenient Lunch boxes, and four ice creams, all of the same flavour that you'd been picking since your immature days in high school.
As he made the trek to your apartment unit, he couldn't help but feel his breath huff between his throat. It was uncomfortable, but knowing you, you would immediately sleep the hunger off, all in the day's exhaustion. He started climbing up the stairs faster, ignoring your old flip-flops outside of a random sixth-floor unit.
When he finally beeped in your apartment code, he was surprised at the silence. No shoes, no work bag, Heck, even your car keys weren't in their usual spot. He made the brave decision to stock up the food in your fridge, and finally walked into your bedroom, seeing the door open.
It was an invasion, but he pressed his ear in the direction of your bathroom, not hearing your shower. The room, however, had fresh notes of fragrance. He finally put down his thinking brain and gave you a quick call.
“I’m in your house, where are you?” his voice let out, worried and anxious.
“Why are you — actually, forget that, you being here is perfect. Come down to unit 603, I need your help with something.”
-
He was put to work almost immediately. It was a good way to unwind, and surprisingly, he didn't mind it. He sewed eyes into teddies, diligently, and politely swooned at Granny Han. Granny Han also smiled at the young man's antics while you looked on endearingly. Eventually, Seungcheol's eyes began to wander.
“What is your Portable Air conditioner doing here?” Seungcheol had asked with the sewing needle between his teeth, “How are you going to sleep tonight?”
When he heard that you'd been sleeping in the living room for a few days, he almost flew out of his metaphorical chair (since the two of you were comfortably lounging on the floor)
“I’d been missing my alarm for work. Sleeping in the living room causes me to be uncomfortable enough to wake up straight away,” you had answered, unbothered.
Seungcheol couldn't believe it right now. His best friend was on the floor of her living room because she was missing her alarms. It couldn't help that you'd been doing overtime now, and that meant coming home late. He couldn't exactly imagine your state at your own abode, which was supposed to be a restful, safe space.
He had called you stupid (which you were honestly being), and before the conversation could escalate, Granny Han bought steaming bowls of food. He was exceptionally grateful, since he had built up an appetite on the way to your place.
-
It was twelve forty-three when Seungcheol had opened the door for the two of you. You had messily left your slippers next to the door, which he fixed for you, before scolding you gently.
“Go to your room,” He had said, putting on his most intimidating voice.
“Cheol, just go back home.” You groaned (lovingly).
“I’m crashing over tonight, and I WILL be taking your couch. You have no choice but to sleep in your own room.”
Now this was untrue. Despite the long years spent together, the two of you never stayed over. It was an unspoken boundary which rooted from the time he'd gotten drunk at college for the first time and woke up, hungover, on your bed, with you on the floor. He'd been ghastly and quite literally ignored you for two weeks afterwards.
Seungcheol remembered that morning vividly. It was a Sunday, of course. You were drooling, and he couldn't help but swipe at it with his thumb. The sight of you waking up was making his heart race. He knew he had a tiny, stupid crush on you, but he was in college now! It was time to date around, get his heart broken once or twice, and that would be enough for him to remember that you guys were always just friends. He didn't realise that his lips frowned at the thought. His thumb almost made contact with your eyelids before he retracted when he realised what he was truly doing, and more importantly, where he was. He made eye contact with you and then-
“Let’s just hang out for a bit before I crash for the night,” you offer, ignoring his blatant lie.
Seungcheol had already grabbed the ice creams and handed them to you. The two of you are already fitting each other on the floor.
“Aw, is that why you came over tonight?” You teased.
“That — and a few other things.”
In all honesty, Seungcheol had thought up a storm. He'd confess to you over dinner, then, depending on the situation, he'd offer you cream or the two of you would share a cone (or two). He'd smile to himself, and you'd steal some from him.
Which wasn't that far from reality, minus the confession, of course. That would come later. Seungcheol purposefully left his ice cream hanging near you, allowing you to take sneaky bites, then playfully berating you. He couldn't help but laugh aloud, watching you try to take bites of his ice cream while he watched on. The stupidity of the ice creams being the same flavour, the fact that it was one, and that automatically made everything funnier. Seungcheol was having a blast, laughing along to your smile and even your smacks. Even when you slapped your palm over his mouth to shut him up, and he'd gotten nervously silent. He still laughed.
His terrible day ended perfectly.
Pasta 🍝
Seungcheol was excited to visit Inje. He'd passed through the area, and from what he remembered, it was only a small county. With an elderly population, he knew there were vast farmlands and summer rays all around. When the group chat was deciding roles, he was planning to sign up as a designated driver, but he hesitated when he saw your name already signed up.
bane of existence 🥰
you: I saw that you were gonna drive
bane of existence 🥰: yess cheol I'm so excited were gonna have a BLAST. bonfire and marshmallows and allat
you: heheh me tooooo
you: wanna split the driving tho? I can drive on the way back
bane of existence 🥰: ohoh sure sure
you: so ill be w u in ur car, both ways
bane of existence 🥰: u want me sooo bad
you are typing...
Seungcheol was having cold feet. Not mentally, but physically. His feet were cold, and despite being in the peak of summer, his feet couldn't help but clamber up. It also was maybe because he was sitting next to you. He was acting all pouty, slightly angsty about having to wake up early, but it all disappeared when he looked to his left and saw you smiling to yourself.
“When did you even have the time to make this?” Seungcheol chomped down on the baguette, “When did you even sleep?” He uttered under his breath, slightly envious at how perfect the sandwich had tasted (or maybe it had been his hunger speaking)
“Firstly, my precious Minghao, my precious Seungcheol,” Hearing such a random endearment, Seungcheol couldn't help but gulp down and look out the window, amused, “Chew before you speak. I can’t perform heimlich while driving,” you had paused, “I woke up at five, and slept early last night. Maybe ten?”
Seungcheol couldn't help but feed you, realising how small you felt in the car, hat on your head, ready for the holidays together. He didn't retract his fingers when he brushed against your cheek. You didn't mention anything either, mouth focused on chewing, eyes focused on the road, and ears focused on turning red. Seungcheol pretended not to notice.
-
Seungcheol noticed the way you rested after driving, which was rare. He never really got to see you rest nowadays. Back when life was simpler, He'd remember grabbing ice cream with you almost every day after class, and eating lunch rowdily in the canteen with you, Jeonghan, and Joshua. Simpler, golden days.
He grabbed your things and tried making it easier for you, if only you would let him. The others saw the way you were restless, trying to help around, passing on water to everyone. he ven almost caught trying to remark Seungkwan's car, which he thankfully stopped by doing it himself. He purposefully flexed his arm while doing it, not that he'd admit it to anyone.
Seungcheol also settled into his tent, which was a bit further away from yours. Jeonghan had already put his stuff down, and he changed out his now sweaty shirt for a new, crispy T-shirt.
It was tiring, of course. He was happy, though, to be around his friends, all sweaty and tired. It would be bad to be tired alone, but there was a sort of fruitful happiness that came with being tired and exhausted together.
Seungcheol helped with Lunch. He helped hand in hand with the grilling of meat and passed meat off to everyone as they lined up. He watched as you passed the meat off and scarfed on your meal, mouth burning and all. If only you could slow down a bit so that maybe the two of you could eat together. But it was okay, you deserved to have a good meal after working so hard. He smiled to himself as he watched you scarf down your meal, a smile nobody really saw. When you came to place your bowl down, he tried ladling more soup into your bowl. The gall of you to give him tongue! He, of course, gave you a rivaling silly face in response.
He watched as you detoured towards the sink and started washing your dishes. Sure, nobody signed up for it, and not that anybody really enjoyed it, but he hoped that you might just give him some company as he finally sat down to eat. You started scrubbing at the bowls and chopsticks instead. You became Chan's, Chan's became Wonwoo's, and eventually, you ended up just washing almost all the dishes. He watched on. He knew you were smiling while doing them, but the ease with which you took up the responsibility unnerved him a bit. A lot, actually.
-
After Lunch, everybody went off to do their own thing. Jeonghan and Seungcheol went to play Foot Volleyball with Mingyu and Seungkwan while you lounged around with the others, catching up and discussing about nothing and everything.
By the time evening came around, you guys realised that it was going ot be a hard night without fans inside, and bugs, seeing how dark it was becoming.
Seungcheol took the opportunity to rent the items from the front desk, worrying about the rest. It was getting dark, and as much as he was tired, he didn't want anybody else to make the long trek away from the campsite to the entrance.
Jihoon and Hansol walked slightly ahead of him, carrying some of the other items. The heat patches in Seunghcheol's packet seemed to weigh down on him. He'd picked them on impulse, getting reminded of your hunched posture and the way you seemed to stretch earlier today.
"Dude, Seungcheol," Jihoon had broken the silence.
"Yeah?" Seungcheol had replied, not really paying attention.
"Are you okay?" Jihoon asked.
Seungchoel could say yes, but he felt as if that were a lie to himself. He was doing well. His workload had decreased after the collaboration between his department's work was finished. He'd been consistent at the gym, He'd been eating good food, he'd been seeing his friends enough, and he'd called home almost every few days. Yet somehow, he wasn't fully satisfied with the way things were. Jihoon didn't need to hear all the tumultuous thoughts in his head.
"I guess." He replied after a while.
"If this is about her," Hansol turned back to look at Seungcheol, "I think it wouldn't hurt to be honest with her."
Seungcheol looked forward, seeing Jihoon and Hansol looking at him already. He smiled and nodded, thankful for their words.
-
Seungcheol stopped in his tracks when he first saw you hacking away at the wood in the corner. Everybody else asides from Joshua, was at the circle, enjoying their conversations, cracking open beers and sodas, but you weren't in the circle. No, you were at the darkening corner, laughing away, using a small axe to cut away at some logs. You were unbelievable.
He couldn't help himself from walking ahead, shoving in front of Hnsol and Jihoon, who couldn't help looking at one another, worried about where this situation was going to go.
It went quite terribly.
“Why can’t you just sit down for a while?”
“Oh, you’re back, it’s nothing, I just wanted to have a try, and Josh let me.”
“We were just finishing up as-”
He didn't wanna hear it, at this moment especially. He was tired of seeing you run around all day. You seem to always be working, especially if he is around. Was it him? Was he the problem? Was there something about him that caused you to just go scatter around and do any task in your near vicinity that would cause you to ignore him? Or was it the need to have things done your way? Was it a control problem? Why did you always have to be involved, never catching a break, always there? Why couldn't you take a rest and let him take care of you for once?
He couldn't hold back his tar-like, sticky, ugly feelings from erupting from his mouth, without a single thought of how it would feel to hear them.
“Yeah, I can see that, but don’t you get tired after doing shit all day? You’ve been up since five and drove us idiots around, then you washed everyone’s fucking dishes. Now you can’t sit still for a few hours and have to cut down some stupid logs. I can’t understand you sometimes. Almost 15 years of friendship, and I can’t seem to understand if you’re just a fucking control freak who has to do everyone’s job, or if you just need to have things done your way. If you didn’t know, this is also your day off.”
The silence was uncomfortable and haunting. In your long years of friendship, Seungcheol had never spoken to you in such a way. Immediately, he wanted to retract and explain, apologise, or even add on. Joshua held on to his arm, trying to hold him back, but also to console him. It didn't really work.
“Is that what you really think of me? A control freak?”
No, never, I'm Sorry.
“You must think I’m insane if I’m just going to listen to you say all this bullshit. I don’t know if this is your misplaced anger for some other stuff, but I really don’t understand what crawled up your ass. I don’t know if you’ve been listening to me, Seungcheol, but I CHOSE to drive. I chose to wash the dishes, and if you listened to me just earlier, I was the one who asked Joshua to let me try. I understand you want me to rest, but I can’t help it if this is how I do it. Gosh, you can be so fucking annoying.”
Seungcheol was left standing alone as he watched you storm away. He felt like something in him was eroding.
-
Jeonghan gave him an earful afterwards. But not before Hyeri almost grabbed his ears, drunk and angered. Thank you to Jihyo for redirecting her away.
"I don't interfere in your relationship with her 'cus I know it's a sensitive topic between the two of you, but you've fucked up bad."
"I know."
"I mean, why the fuck would you say that to hear? I was all the way at the other side, and I heard the bullshit you were spewing. Ok, I get it, you love her to bits, and you got annoyed with her doing everything for everyone, but why didn't you talk with her, calmly, like any mature person would?"
"I know."
"You'd better get your act together and apologise properly."
"I know."
Sleep didn't come easily to either of you that night.
-
Seungcheol didn't know if he wanted to thank Minghao or strangle him.
You had taken him to a restaurant in the city. Seungcheol was ignoring the vibrations of his phone, settling into the seat as you two settled into a quaint restaurant. In a way, it was funny. The two of you were dressed in summery shirts, t-shirts with trees and flowers, wearing shorts in the heat. The two of you looked like tourists in your own city.
Seungcheol had ordered an orange soda, and you had followed with the same. You had ordered a Carbonara, and Seungcheol also ordered the same.
"Do you think we'll be okay, Cheol?" You'd asked innocently.
"I think we will," Seungcheol replied.
"I'm sorry we haven't hung out much. I know I declined on you a lot, and when we did have a meal the last two times, we were kind of tense. I'm sorry we haven't been able to hang out much. I would be annoyed too."
Seungcheol had nodded then and thought about his next words, carefully.
"I think I wasn't annoyed at you. I was a bit, but also at myself. I kept on thinking, how can I help you out, but I never really talked to you much about it anyway. I never told you about how I felt about your workload that much anyway."
Your eyes were doe-like, listening earnestly. You felt a bit weightless, if you were being honest.
"I kept trying to be by your side, but I think maybe I wasn't doing that well of a job-"
"No, Cheol never," You reassured him.
"Isn't it funny that I was the one who fucked up last night, and here you are trying to comfort me?" He mused, honestly.
You looked away, biting your lip.
"I know that, you have your shit together. You're one of the most capable people I know. I'm amazed by how ambitious you are. I like how you live your life. You have worked so hard for everything that's in front of you right now. But there's still a part of me that wants you to need my presence, even if I'm just there. Actually, cut that, I wanna be strong for you. I know you don't exactly need it. But I just want to be yours. In any way, you'll have me."
The carbonara was steaming in front of you. Your eyes were glossy as you listened to his earnest confession.
Seungcheol's legs couldn't stop shaking. He had finally said what he'd been holding back for years. He wasn't planning for this at all. In his grand scheme of life plans, he had imagined confessing his dying love for you at the Eiffel Tower, making cryptic posts on Twitter, before hard launching you to the friend group, before they'd all laugh along and say"finally!"
"Seungcheol I-"
"We can talk about this later. Please, Eat. you didn't have dinner."
"And regarding what I just said. You can answer me later. Or never even, if you'd like us to forget about it. You can think about it at your own pace."
You had smiled at him and nodded.
He looked a bit dejected.
You stole some of his spaghetti while he was distracted anyways.
Sunny Side Up 🍳 (The last one!)
Seungcheol woke up on the floor of your apartment, head heavy. bicep heavy, too. Your head rested on his bicep, and he couldn't help but coo internally at the sight of your lips slightly parted and air escaping in quiet puffs. This was the second time he’d woken up beside you, and unlike his University self, he didn’t run away this time. Instead, he watched you as you woke up. He closed his eyes, worried this small sense of peace and happiness would go away too fast.
He thought back to the night before.
-
Clang,
Clang!
“That’s enough for tonight, guys,” Seungcheol said, victorious and giddy from all the chatter.
-
"Guys. Don't mess around. usually she would offer her place as it's the closest, but she's very much drunk. Don't do stupid shit and get home safely." Seunghceol relayed to the group.
"Hosh, since you didn't drink, you can take care of Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Jun, should be okay, right?" Seungcheol planned out. You were very much passed out on his back, looking serene with your smudged mascara.
"Aye aye," Soonyoung saluted.
Seungcheol had delegated route plans to the sober members and tracked their locations as he walked you back to your place. It was a somber night. He thought back to your conversation with him at the pasta place, and your dynamic since.
Things had gotten better, he would like to admit. The two of you tried to spend time together, away from work, on weekends. You had declined brunch, but Seungcheol had felt even more excited when he realised it was because you were doing things for your own happiness. He was the happiest when you invited him to your place the next day to make strawberry shortcake with the strawberries you had brought back from Sokcho.
Sure, the two of you never brought up Seungcheol's love confession without the three words, but he could see a twinkle of admiration in your own eyes that mirrored his. Eh, but what would he know? He didn't mind as long as he was by your side and got to enjoy your presence without any sort of deadline or task on any of the two of your shoulders.
Your eyes had sleep all over them, and without any sort of disgust, Seungcheol wiped at them with his own thumb. You had been awake, but you couldn't walk away from this feeling of eternal warmth that was encompassing you.
"Cheol,"
He hummed, voice gruff from sleep.
"Breakfast,"
"Let's make it together."
You had nodded into his chest in reply. Somewhere in there, you felt his heart bump and beat faster, and louder in retort.
You cracked four eggs into the pan, letting the whites soak up the chill oil as a spicy scent filled the kitchen. Behind you, Seungcheol prepared rice with Seungkwan's Mother's marinated crabs. The scent of the marinade caused you to salivate from behind the pan.
At the dining table, you sat facing the balcony, while he sat in front of you, protecting you from the light behind him. It was the early morning, and yet he had this dreamy glow encompassing him.
He brushed his teeth in your bathroom, with you beside him. Looking back, you didn't realise how you never saw it with the two of you acting all domestic in front of everybody and yourselves, it was a cute sight, seeing you two act all lovey-dovey.
Chika
Chika
-
Seungcheol inhaled his food. You hadn't started yet, enjoying watching him as he stuffed his cheeks full of rice. Runny yolk ran between his bites, and yet he never made a mess on your table.
"Choi Seungcheol, I like you."
Your dining table had specks of rice and chilli oil on it. Seungcheol looked at you, wide-eyed.
"I've liked you for a while now, actually. Maybe I never told you because I thought I never deserved this type of love, or maybe I just preferred to keep it to myself because of our precious relationship as friends."
He listened, shell-shocked.
"I always shielded myself from things like comfort, and in a way, always thought I didn't really need it. But I was thinking about your words from August. I think in the way you always need to be around me, I think I'll always want you. You're a comfort to me. Someone who has always had my back, regarding even if it's stupid things like sewing up teddies, making me eat even if you're upset at me, drinking my shots for me, or even arguing with me over my well-being. In the same way you want me, I'll always want you. And I’m sorry if I never showed you that enough. I know it must’ve been hard, Cheol."
Seungcheol felt his eyes seering, and a second later, you disappeared and blurred from his vision. Tears blurred his sight, and you were by his side immediately. Your arms circled around him, and Seungcheol took in air, as if it were his first time ever opening his lungs into the world. His sobs racked your body. Seungcheol hadn't been expecting an answer. He was content with the days passing by regularly, and ignoring the lump in his heart and soul that screamed every time the two of you were together, if it meant comfort for you.
"I love you, always and forever," He had whispered into your hair, after a while. “I’m always gonna regret not loving you openly. Thank you for liking me. Thank you.”
Your thumbs wiped away his tears. His own came to cup your cheeks and swabbed your own tears away, too.
His forehead met yours, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He then pressed a kiss to your hairline.
You breathed in. He exhaled.
"May, I be, yours?"
"You've always been mine."
end ˎˊ˗
hi guys! Firstly, I wanna thank each and every single one of you reading right now. Yes you! Thank you so much for your support. I always read fics but I wanted to try writing some of my own. I’m relatively new here, so I’m still getting the hang of reblogging culture, commenting and stuff like that :) I hope you guys can be patient with me in that regard. I was so shocked when I woke up to likes from you guys. In all honestly, I thought this would go silently unnoticed. Thank you for your love.
I wanted to dive more deeply into my characterisation of Seungcheol and the MC. if you're still here, thank you! in all honesty, I just wanted to write something but I didn't know what. I was just coming up with random scenarios. I wanted an mc that was helpful, but not exactly a doormat without boundaries. reading all your reblogs and comments were really the highlight of my day, in all honesty. Much love and thank you for the ride. I was thinking of making a bonus SMAU with twitter posts of their progressing friendship to Love story.
I hope you enjoyed reading. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never compulsory :3
synopsis: You felt comfortable where you were. A well paying job and a group hangout scheduled every week(or at least you guys tried to). You were used to this routine and the occasional errand or two. You honestly preferred it that way, busy and packed. But somewhere along the line, you felt him ripping into the seams of your soul, pushing past the readily available facade and drinking your raw self from a glass straw.
Five times you shouldered something for someone, and the one time you ended up on his shoulder.
word count: 9.4k
notes, warnings: best friend seungcheol x reader, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, non idol au, Seungcheol and reader are the same age, cast is around mid twenties, corporatevibes with possible inaccuracies, alcohol consumption, eldest daughter coded reader, hyper independent reader who also needs to learn how to say no, 5+1 trope ish. Reader plays badminton, some jargon, slight angst, rom com vibes at times. (At least i tried </3) theres some texting, CRINGR attempt at humor… seventeen, twice, eunha(gfriend/viviz) and hyeri(girl’s day) members make cameos, reader lowkey don’t listen to seungcheol, THEY FIGHT AND ARGUE…. BUT MAKE UP (kinda), CURSE WORDS.
authors note: yall.. guess im back to writing. english is not my first language, so apologies in advance for awkward running sentences and any grammatical errors. I based this off of the song master of none by beach house bc i LAUV the song. Also the header was made very last minute, so apologies for that as well. Enjoy reading and reblogs and likes are never compulsory, but always appreciated :DDD
October 🍻
Eventually, you grew tired. It was getting rather late, with rain pouring outside in sheets across the window planes of the barbecue place. The lady handling the orders looked on with a fond, tired smile, and you couldn’t help shooting her a mirrored expression mid-laugh. You were standing, arms entwined with Soonyoung as you poured a warm shot down your own throat. The liquid felt sharp, and your belly was going to explode, but you laughed anyway, encouraged by your friends giggling along to your tipsy antics. Soonyoung, on the other hand, was red-faced, staring at you with teary eyes as he struggled to push the glass rim onto his pouted lips.
“Give,” you said with a sideways smirk, already imagining him landing on maybe Hansol’s (Jun’s, maybe too?) couch and sleeping in until the late morning, hungover. You swooped his glass and stared blankly at the ceiling as you gulped his share of the punishment and put on an indifferent face, as everyone across the table cheered you on. Your stomach felt stupidly acidic, and you sat down with a victorious smile, slightly clenching your fist, playing it up for your onlookers. The game continued. Your mind stayed fixated on the game, occasionally coming up with funny quips aimed at the punishment takers. You felt relatively tired. But being around your friends added this feeling of relief, which you looked forward to every Friday. This week, it was the barbecue restaurant near your house, so you knew you’d have to walk a few of them back to your place. It wasn’t a big deal anyway.
You guys stayed for another hour, until Soonyoung's stomach felt rather unwell (courtesy the Bacardi shots- or as Mingyu would call them: Barcardi), and Hyeri was so drunk that you guys called it a night. After settling the bill and the drunken mishaps outside the restaurant, you held onto Hyeri’s waist, her head on your shoulder as you walked her back to your place. Unfortunately, Soonyoung's red face seemed to be turning rather green, and Seungcheol offered to help him back to your place, an offer you gladly took.
The walk was silent. Occasionally, Soonyoung would hiccup, and you’d swivel your head back in worry, only to see Seungcheol already looking at you, pensively. You couldn't exactly decipher this specific look. After spending years together across high school, university, and now work, this was a new expression to you. You took your time to watch him every single time you looked back; his face never changing. Your head was beginning to feel a bit heavy, but as you entered your apartment and began unlacing Hyeri’s work shoes, you already felt Seungcheol's steps ahead, resting Soonyoung on your couch. He went into your room, grabbed the spare blanket, and covered his sleepy friend. You made it in and helped Hyeri in your bed, using your makeup wipes to swipe at her lip tint, now smudged with drool.
Walking into your living room, you felt a storm behind your head. A tight band quenched your cranium with full pressure. Seungcheol was sitting on the floor, knees drawn into his chest as he stared outside your glass sliding door, into the cool night.
You smiled, tired, and sat next to him. Soonyoung lightly snored behind the two of you, and he slid a glass of water across the coffee table, towards you.
You drank sloppily, rested your head on his shoulder, and started groaning. Maybe to annoy him, maybe to lean on him for a bit. It was rare that you did, but you felt your shoulders finally lowering after seizing them up for most of the night.
“Why’d you do it?” He gruffly asked.
You hummed, eyes closed. “What did I do, Cheol?”
“Drink Soonie’s punishment shot. You know you didn’t have to, right?” he said, rather dejected as his hand makes its way to your temple, softly pressing into the flesh with a tender touch.
Wordlessly, you nodded against him, feeling slight relief as the pain disappeared in waves.
“I know, but I wanted to.”
He said something, a bit unclear, and the next thing you knew, it was morning, you’re somehow in your room, and Hyeri had her leg wrapped around your waist, who snored softly through her open mouth (which you gently pressed shut).
Oh. And it was your floor, Soonyoung woke up on, actually.
December 📁
Wonwoo didn't ask for help often. In fact, the last time he asked for help was in high school when he fell ill and asked for your notes on the one class he missed, which was why when he asked if anyone could fetch him his presentation notes that he left at the dining table of some random restaurant fifteen minutes away from your office, you felt almost compelled to accept it. But of course, not before playfully teasing him in the group chat for a good thirty seconds before asking the location of said restaurant.
Your phone buzzed as Wonwoo called you immediately after your last message.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he whispered.
”I know, I know, I kind of expect a lobster meal for this sacrifice. I'm giving up the only forty-five minutes I get for lunch to be your delivery man,” you snorted out, your two hands on the steering wheel as you waited at the red light. He hummed thoughtfully, and your car rumbled alongside him.
ETA, six minutes to Madam Kong’s Stew and Drinks, your navigation system relayed.
“I have my presentation in about twenty-five minutes, and you know I would be so down to get the files myself if it weren’t for Manager Park breathing down my neck. I don't even know how I snagged a bathroom break to call you.” He frustratedly muttered.
Traffic fell forward, lights turned green. You hummed. “I’ll call you when I’m near your office, see you in a bit!” Your car was sealed in silence as his voice cut off.
Your phone buzzed. Buzzed a bit more on the passenger seat, then fell silent. You didn’t really notice, watching the mundane rhythm of cars as you eventually pulled up to the parking lot of the quaint establishment where warm wafts of broth brought you through the doors. The menu was plastered on the wall as a tired-looking uncle smiled at you from behind the register.
“Hello, Uncle, I’m here to collect some papers my friend left behind today.” You smiled politely, giving him your kindest smile as you pulled your coat away from your neck, feeling the warmth of the food warming you up as well.
“Ah, the young gentleman called in ahead and did mention that someone would be arriving to collect them.” He answered, disappearing into the small room behind him, leaving you to stare at the menu, withering pictures of bowls of noodles, rice bowls, and a wide variety of side dishes burning into your eyes.
Your stomach would’ve growled if it weren’t for the growing urgency to finish your task and return to your own office and start your own meeting with the rest of your staff members. Your mouth silently salivated at the picture of the warm broth with thick, knife-cut noodles drizzled with sesame oil, glowing and bouncy with specks of sesame seeds — crunchy, delightful, and a warm burst of umami in the cold December winds.
Your stomach finally grumbled, and you wondered if you could squeeze in a quick meal while waiting. Wonwoo’s body in a random bathroom cubicle, whispering into his phone flashed behind your eyes. Then an image of your staff members chattering while waiting for you, the head of the table empty. You quickly shook your head and grabbed the file folder the uncle passed on, now back to manning the register.
Checking your phone, disregarding the unread notifications, you only saw about 25 minutes left on your lunch break and sped off to Wonwoo’s office, who grabbed the file from your hand, got out of your car, bowing 90 degrees as you waved him off and wished him a productive meeting. Now, you have your own meeting to get back to.
The drive back was anxiety-ridden. You were hungry and had a meeting with your members, with a presentation that you’ve been preparing for a while now. You can still imagine the warm steam the broth emitted, and instantly regret thinking back to the restaurant.
Coming out of the seminar room, you feel a sense of achievement as the head of your department, applause still being heard from inside the glass-encased room. The meeting itself lasted no longer than forty minutes. You still felt an empty pit in your stomach and headed into your office, where an insulated bag was kept neatly on your work desk.
Receipt:
Madam Kong’s Stew and Drinks:
Order for: Choi, Seungcheol
Register: Pi, Cheolin
1x hot broth knife cut noodles
2x electrolyte drinks
1x service side dishes
1x sesame oil packet
total price : XXXXX XXX
It was messily hatched out, with your signature pen, which was now capped up in your pen holder. You would be confused if it weren’t for the notifications on your phone that were finally addressed.
corporate bros
Queen Hyeri (corporate): lunch today is so ahh bro I don’t get paid enough
jihyo: dont u work for the food sector…
wonwoo (corporate): GUYS if anyone is free i left a file at a restaurant and i would totally go to get it but my manager is being kind of mean rn </3
junhui (more corporate): im so sorry woo, im otw to pick up my boss from the airport so i wont be able to get there in time D:
wonwoo (corporate): nono its chill dw :D
you: LMAOOO skill issue
you: won isn't your meeting TODAY ?
wonwoo (corporate) : do u HATE me 💔
you: yes. jk im on break anyways, send the location let me see if i can help
wonwoo: [location] did u know that youre the only person ever.
you: i think i can make it(?)
new!
mr choi (corporate): @ you dont u also have a meeting at 1???
mr choi (corporate): im nearby, ill get it
mr choi (corporate): im otw, see u wonwoo
mr choi (corporate)
new!
mr choi (corporate): the uncle told me a very pretty lady already picked up the file soooo
mr choi (corporate): so im assuming u didn’t eat lunch so i got u something from the restaurant. hope your meeting went well :)
you: life saver. Thank u so much cheol </3
you: wait did u end up eating :( im so sorry i didnt read the message or update, I ended up wasting your time.
mr choi (corporate): i ate at the restaurant after I realized you already left TT dont worry about it
you: also lmk the price don’t think i didnt notice you scratching the price off
mr choi (corporate): no eat ur noodles
you: >:(
mr choi (corporate): enjoy and eat slowly.
transaction! user YOU sent user CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 30,000 WON.
transaction! user CHOI SEUNGCHEOL sent user YOU 30,000 WON.
you: :(
mr choi (corporate): :)
March 🏸
badminton lozers
boo: ok guys uhm so eunha got injured during practice so we lowkey are pulling out of mixed doubles competition unfortunately, but feel free to come anyways to watch the other players
hannie: do you guys not have any subs?
boo: I looked around and there are some people, but we haven’t practiced our synergy yet so subbing this last minute might just be risky
boo: I would ask @ you but ik she’ll be exhausted after work on Thursday
you: im DOWN
you: victory is ours btw
boo: are you sure? you have work on Friday
you: we played in hs for three years is this all u think of me 💔
boo: okay but we HAVE to practice
you: see u at court soon LOZER
boo: thank you a lot, @ you - eunha and me 😼
jisoo hong: eunha and i*
boo has left badminton lozers
Practice went well. The weight of the racket resting on your palm wasn’t new. The smell of the rubber lingering on your hands after a successful smash was satisfying, only second to the sound of the shuttlecock butt landing on the opposite court. Feeling that nostalgic rush in your body, you and Seungkwan click your racket shafts together, relishing in the victory. Your practice match went well, leading to a score of 21-16, a five-point lead, leaving Eunha squealing from the benches, nestling her ankle. She watched on, offering you occasional pointers that you implemented almost immediately.
It was a Sunday, your first free Sunday in a while after having dinners, lunches, luncheons, brunches, and other variations with clients, urging them patiently to make their decisions regarding future projects. You felt your shoulders ache, and a satisfying burn in your calves, but nothing could beat the smile Eunha and Seungkwan gave you as you wiped off the sweat from your brows.
Plans for dinner were being made. Eunha offered a cold noodle place nearby, Seungkwan insisted on a tofu restaurant closer to prove a point. You laughed at the two players bickering and unfortunately declined their request, having sweat stick onto you and desperately requiring a shower at your home and a hearty dinner on your two-seater couch.
“We can’t thank you enough for this. We know this isn’t really that serious of a competition, but we were really looking forward to competing and at least snagging a trophy.” Eunha said earnestly, looking up at you, her eyes turning the mood suddenly somber, as even Seungkwan nodded along solemnly.
With your right hand, you squeezed Seungkwan’s cheek and with your left, you leaned down to pat Eunha’s head, feeling the need to reassure your two juniors. They had come a long way. While you and Seungkwan carried your badminton team to great heights, you had to graduate, leaving Seungkwan behind with his new partner for mixed doubles, Eunha. Although you didn’t play as regularly as them, you kept up once every few weeks, joking with them in casual friendly matches.
“Don’t thank me yet,” you muttered, coolly, “wait until I win.” You even looked away into the distance for dramatic effect, trying to lighten the slightly tense mood, feeling uneasy.
“oh that was CRINGE,” Seungkwan interrupted almost immediately, “and what do you mean by ‘I’? We’re playing doubles, what is she on about!” His rambling continued on as you packed your kit and walked outside into the cool evening (not before messing up Eunha and Seungkwan’s hair affectionately in departing). The sun was setting, and you couldn’t help but stop to take a picture of the purple hues of the sky.
Sitting in your car, you made the lonely ride back home.
-
You were not lonely.
Seungcheol was washing carrots at your sink, the sound of his light humming causing you to smack his arm as you walked into your own apartment, to the smell of a rich scent bubbling in the air. His shoes were neatly placed outside your door, despite you telling him multiple times to keep them in the shoe rack right next to your door. He always denied, mumbling something about a quick exit and entry, and something about how he didn’t exactly like the guy who lived next door. His coat (and his maroon tie) was hanging from your own coat rack, where you left your badminton bag.
You shuffled behind him to see what he was making, in your own kitchen, with your own ingredients, with your own utensils, with your rice already boiling in your rice cooker in its own corner of your apartment.
“Carrot and mushroom stir-fry,” He said, not bothering to even look back at you as you took off your socks behind him. Waddling to your room, you arranged yourself into a shower and came out with a bounce in your step.
His humming continued as you prepared two bowls of rice, spoons, forks, chopsticks, while you plated bean sprouts, spinach, and eggs out of your fridge into sharing bowls.
He placed the frying pan between you two as conversation bubbled from you.
“Then I dived for the net shot, which i’m not gonna lie, was dumb given the fact that my knee did end up on the floor, alongside my whole body,” you mentioned, pausing, as you scooped mushrooms onto your bowl of rice, “but kwan and I won 21-16 so you know we’re gonna be mvps.”
He nodded along stupidly, staring at you with concern, then asked, “And what did you have for lunch, Miss MVP?”
“Brunch with that one marketing manager, who, by the way, is still waiting for confirmation papers from your department,” you reminded him.
“They’re ready to be delivered off, I just need to find time to drive all the way to the Gangnam Branch,” Seungcheol pouted. He paused, like he had some sudden epiphany, then pushed his spoon on the table.
“Why did you even join that badminton thing, when you know you’re going to be busy? You don’t always have to have your plate filled, and I think you also know that,” he sighed, “I get that you and Seungkwan have a history of playing together, but I know how you get when you have a task in front of you, especially if it means helping our friends. It’s okay to take it at your own pace and just say no.”
He rubbed his hands together as he formulated his sentence, waiting for your reaction as you listened intently, chewing carrots in the meanwhile.
You straightened your posture methodically, paused, and replied as best as you could.
‘Cus I wanted to. I know I don’t have much leisure time, but joining this badminton thing means a lot to both Seungkwan and Eunha; it was only obvious that I would help where I could,” you justified, “plus, I know what I’m doing,” you trailed off. It was often where you and Seungcheol offered insight and advice to one another, and it was obvious when he was overly worried about your well-being, but you couldn’t seem to push the slight frown on your brow when you saw his own shoulders rising and his face turning tense in front of you.
“Even your justification, it relies on the happiness of Seungkwan and Eunha. Now, I don’t blame you for thinking about our friends, but don’t do it at your expense,” he gruffly muttered. “Your body is tense at your own house. Hell, you even got injured. I know you know you can handle your own affairs, but rest. I’m not trying to fight, but if you end up sick and injured, I can’t help but question you.” He sternly stated.
With every word he uttered, you couldn't help but sink into your seat a little. He’s questioning you?
You wanted to reply with your own smart retort, but it all died down when you saw him eyeing your shoulders, the way your neck strained, and the way your calves were slightly swaying under the table. You felt like a child being berated all over again.
He picked up his spoon and pushed a bit of rice into his mouth. The silence disappeared, and only his chewing was audible. You just blinked on, consuming his words as delicately as you could.
“Why are you even here? to lecture me?” You childishly challenge, trying to muster the courage to spin the overbearing conversation into your regular banter.
His face was pointed at his now half-empty bowl, and he busied himself by placing spinach into your half full-bowl, “Josh told me you said yes to Seungkwan today, and that your practice would finish up by six. And also that you’ve been preparing for a week already. Just knew you’d be too tired to cook,” some carrots, on top of the spinach next, “I won’t tell you what to do, but if you seem so compelled to play, you better eat up and win.”
-
Seungkwan was still in the bathroom. He left his bag with indigestion pills on the fifth row of the bleachers.
Your next match starts in four minutes.
You made your way to court three.
Two players were there, rallying with one another.
The one referee was waiting, tapping their foot as you walked closer to them.
boo: I’m so sorry.
boo: I'm still stuck in the bathroom. Those melons that Chan gave me rly messed me up
boo: idk if ill be out in time
boo: u might js have to forfeit our match
you: okok its okay. I’ll tell the person in charge , stay strong soldier.
You read his message again and again.
The first match had been easy; you breezed by with 21-13 and then a devastating 21-9, when, during the break, Chan offered Seungkwan some melons he picked.
Now, you were walking onto the court with your racket, feeling the confused looks of your friends on your back, as you alone made your way forward. Eyeing your opponents, you felt intimidated. They glanced at you, sizing you up. You felt small.
“My teammate and I are going to be-”
“Substituting a member out for the next match.”
You looked to your left and saw Seungcheol spinning your spare racket, testing its fit and weight.
The match was coming to an end, with this third set especially leaving you out of breath. 21-19, 24-22 (you guys won the second one. Jeonghan had to be escorted off the bleachers for a breather during this specific match), and now here.
Seungcheol was burning through his energy supply, Seungkwan’s jersey especially tight around his biceps as he flexed hard, shuttlecock landing between your opponent’s feet.
19 all.
Just two more. Two more.
You feigned a net but placed it high in the back court, leading to a shot that you followed with another smash. Countered. Smashed. Netted.
20-19, matchpoint.
You glanced at Seungcheol as you made your (hopefully) last service. Your opponent was mid-center. Flick, reflex, hesitation, and line.
21-19. Victory.
(Somewhere in the background, you could see Seungkwan shooting you both a meek thumbs up.) (and Jihyo and Mingyu screaming with their raw chests.)
You looked at the ceiling, bright lights, pride, and lactic acid all accumulated in your shoulders.
Without a second to waste, you grabbed Seungcheol’s shoulders and shook them with glory, smiling with your mouth agape. He held your cheeks and looked at you.
“We won!” He said, voice shaking as you pulled him into an impromptu hug.
“We won.” You mirrored.
You and Seungkwan continued on and ended up snagging silver. Not bad for the annual neighborhood competition. (None of you guys lived in Seungkwan’s neighborhood.
After the podium pictures were taken, Seungcheol and you ended up conversing near the vending machines outside. You hadn’t talked to him much in the past four days, still feeling a bit hurt after his questioning at your apartment, but you felt grateful that he cared enough to cook you a meal, then forced you to watch him wash the dishes, wipe the table down as you bugged him to help. It was an awkward situation, feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around a dear friend who had always taken care of you, even when you clarified that you didn’t need it.
You pressed coins in, and two electrolyte drinks clanged against the metal of the opening flaps. He opened one and handed it to you, and you felt yourself still as the warm evening sun seeped onto the two of you. It wasn’t the brush of your hands against his, but the sun that warmed you, of course.
“I’m sorry,” you started, “I know you were only worried that night, and I kinda just brushed you off. Have been brushing you off for a while now. I’m sorry you also found out from Joshua. Didn’t think it was that important.”
“It’s okay. I know how you get over them. I’m like that too.” He got closer, and his hair fell over his eyes. Was it just you, or was his voice getting deeper? “Anything relating to you is going to be important to me, Miss MVP.”
“Just, care for yourself more.” He added, thoughtfully, “I’m also sorry. You just came back from a tiring day, and I questioned you like a crazy boyfriend in your own home.” You paused and looked at him as the sun dipped further into the horizon. You cleared your throat, warming at his words (just ever so slightly).
You sucked in some air. He stepped back to fan himself. Courtesy to the sun, of course.
“I don’t know how we ended up winning that one,” he said after a while.
You snorted. Took another sip, then: “You’re Choi Seungcheol, our batch’s crazy, competitive, corporate boy.”
He was Choi Seungcheol, your batch’s crazy, competitive, corporate boy, who’d been in love with you since almost(?) forever, as well.
June 🧸
Hot summer days beat down hard. Sweat beaded on your back, leaving you in thinner work-appropriate blouses; forgotten were the professional coats on the rack of your office. The group seemed to try to meet as often as possible, but with summer at its peak, a lot of your colleagues, and (unfortunately) friends were out of the country, snapping pictures in the most unreal locations.
The same couldn’t be said for you, and a few other friends, who included Hyeri, Jihoon, and Seungcheol. As head of department, you couldn’t help but accept the leave applications your team members sent in your way, which left you with only a few junior members who hadn’t gripped onto work as well, leaving you absolutely flooded with paperwork.
You absolutely couldn’t do this anymore. After the third week in a row doing overtime, you left your desk at an unusual hour, standing up too fast and feeling your legs turning into jelly almost immediately. Pins and needles felt weird.
You drove in silence. It was a bit weird. Thinking about it, you did it a lot. Driving back to an empty house, deciding on destinations in silence. Solitude wasn’t bad, and you never truly felt alone, thanks to your large group of friends, all with different hobbies and habits that you could form different combinations for differing occasions. It wasn’t that bad when you thought about it. You got along with everyone just well enough to warrant a group hangout without feeling awkward or left out. That was enough to keep you going. For now, at least.
You pressed the button of your apartment complex’s elevator and waited for the high-pitched ding to announce its arrival. It didn’t come.
cheol
you: just got off of work and u won’t believe my frickin chungus life rn
cheol: wtf it’s like 10 y did u just finish work
cheol: what happened
you: long story BUT my apartment elevator is BROCKEN
cheol: 😂😂😂😂😂😂
you: u have NOTHINF to be laughing about . Now im about to be tired AND hungry 😂💔😂💔😂
you: at least no work tmr 😎
You put your phone down after complaining to your number one supporter. Looking at the stairs, you begrudgingly made your way up the seven floors.
The first four floors weren’t that bad, but with the stuffy, humid air entering and exiting you, your breath puffed up, and you felt yourself sweating excessively.
fifth, done.
Sixth, and you came across an apartment unit, with its door wide open, allowing the wind from the hall to make its entrance freely, while allowing the light to illuminate you briefly. Looking up, you realised it was a granny you occasionally saw at the complex garden feeding the stray cats.
Following your line of sight, you saw bags and bags full of teddy bears lining her apartment. You heard her voice humming softly from inside.
“Granny, why are you awake so late?” You knocked on her open door.
“Ah! Pretty young lady from upstairs!” She shifted and walked meekly past the bags of teddy bears, greeting you at the door.
“Oh! Before I forget, the elevator isn’t exactly working, so please only go down if it’s necessary. I already contacted the building manager, but I’m not sure how long they’ll take.” You tiredly informed her.
“Oh, you poor thing. Come inside, have some water.” She offered with her frail voice. Water actually sounded delightful.
She prepared a glass of barley tea with ice. After waking up in her living room, you sat on the floor and felt the ice melt instantaneously. Her living room was burning up, and now that you looked closely, her forehead was sweating a concerning amount.
“Granny, your house is extremely hot. It’s very dangerous! What if you got a heat stroke at night?” You chided her with worry. You were still curious about the teddy bears filling her house.
“Ah, don’t worry about an old lady like me. The heat caused some pipes in my conditioning system to overheat, so they’re gone for repair.” She caught you eyeing the teddies, and continued with a smile, “Nowadays, they say doing handwork is good for the brain and body. I saw it somewhere on the news! So I found a part-time job to sew the eyes on 150 teddy bears.”
“But granny, it’s really a tedious job, are you able to get by comfortably?”
“You’d be right to ask, actually. I have them due tomorrow, but I still have about 50 left, so I thought I’d finish them all throughout the night.” She explained.
You paused. No way were you going to leave her alone like this on a hot summer night, with plenty of work to do.
“I have an idea, Granny. I’ll be right back.”
-
And that’s how you, Seungcheol, found you on the sixth floor, showered and changed out of your work outfit, on the floor of Granny Hans apartment, sewing black buttons onto eyeless teddies.
You had received a call from Seungcheol about two minutes ago, while you were a good five teddies in, when you suddenly jumped when you felt your phone vibrate.
“I’m in your house, where are you?”
“Why are you — actually, forget that, you being here is perfect. Come down to unit 603, I need your help with something.”
Now, with you and Seungcheol working together, the teddies were receiving their vision at a much faster rate, and an idle conversation took place between you and him as Granny Han made herself busy in the kitchen.
“What is your Portable Air conditioner doing here?” Seungcheol had asked with the sewing needle between his teeth, “How are you going to sleep tonight?”
Thread pulled from your hand, “Granny’s has no air conditioning for a while, I’m planning on lending it to her until her system gets fixed.” The needle pierced through the button’s hole. “I’ve been sleeping in my living room for the past few days anyway.”
“Why?”
“I’d been missing my alarm for work. Sleeping in the living room causes me to be uncomfortable enough to wake up straight away.”
“Are you STUPID?” He looks a bit feral as you finish the last teddy, and he grabs the needle from your fingers.
Granny Han thankfully interrupts your conversation by placing two bowls of rice and bowls of soup between you and Seungcheol.
“I made you work into the night; the least I can do is treat you to a meal, especially knowing that you just came back from work.”
How we love you, Granny Han.
-
It’s almost 1 am when you and Seungcheol finally make it back to your apartment.
“Go to your room,” He insisted as you removed your slippers from the shoe rack.
“Cheol, just go back home.”
“I’m crashing over tonight, and I WILL be taking your couch. You have no choice but to sleep in your own room.”
“Let’s just hang out for a bit before I crash for the night,” you offer, ignoring his insistence.
You look, and he opens your freezer and appears with two ice-creams.
“Aw, is that why you came over tonight?”
“That — and a few other things.”
You left it at that.
You tried his, and he tried yours. It didn’t make much difference since he was eating the same thing as you, but stealing a bite from his made you feel extra mischievous. He pretended to huff, roll his eyes in annoyance, and whine about the theft, but you noticed the way his hand holding the ice cream was angled towards you when he paused, almost egging you on to try.
He took a big bite, leaving your ice cream with barely any left, leaving you silent, as he cackled thunderously about his own antics.
thud thud thud!
came from below!
You were proud to be an amazing upstairs neighbor, so hearing this was a crack to your pride. You smacked his bicep, urging him to quiet down, and when that didn’t work, you slapped your palm against his mouth that still continuing to giggle.
“Grow up, will you?”
August 🪵
Your weekends were often still packed, and you preferred it that way. At least you thought you did. Better to pack your free time with whatever work-related garbage you could think of. That was until Seokmin disturbed (affectionately) your plans of working throughout the weekend.
family ❤️🔥
seokmin: guys minghao and I were planning on going camping next saturday, somewhere near Inje. Who’s coming raise ur hand. 🙋♂️
you are typing…
Almost everyone was able to make it to the camping trip (aside from Eunha and Soonyoung, who had personal businesses to attend to), and when tasks were getting decided, it was an obvious choice to be the designated driver, alongside Jun, Jihyo, Seungkwan, and Seokmin. This left about three people per car, including the driver. You decided you liked to drive, to have something to focus on.
As Seokmin had all the bookings handled, all that was needed was the food and other necessities required for the weekend. Seungcheol had offered to be in your car, alongside a sleep-deprived Minghao, who stated that you would provide the quiet needed to nap the approximate three hours to Inje (not because your car had extra space and padding in the back seat). You and Seungcheol decided that he’d drive on the way back, so that the workload would be fair. You didn’t mind and were looking forward to sleeping on the way back.
It was decided that passengers would meet up at the designated driver's house at 6AM, and you’d depart once everyone was there. Your car was ready, you’d prepared simple sandwiches for Seungcheol and Minghao, and coffee satchels (in case they felt hungry down the road), and all the extra materials you’d prepared were loaded in your car the previous night, and all you were waiting for were the arrivals of your two friends. Your trunk also included extra pillows, pots, pans, matches, first aid kits, water canteens, water filters, portable showers — almost anything you’d need in the wilderness.
Minghao was the first to arrive. He greeted you with a sleepy hug and asked you how you slept (well enough, you’d replied, and he nodded), and then he decided that the backseat was perfect. He dropped his own backpack in the trunk of your car as you waited in the parking lot. Your group chat was active at this odd hour, seeing selfies of your friends already on the way, and some stopping over for breakfast.
Seungcheol arrived just as you were about to give him a quick call. His eyes looked swollen from sleep, and he was yawning as he settled down in the front seat next to you.
“Ready for departure?” You asked, looking at Minghao through the front-mirror, and once you heard an affirmative from both of your passengers, you stepped on the accelerator and left for the sunny, warm woods.
-
“I’m hungry,” Seungcheol pouted once you’d entered the highway. You looked to your right and watched him as he scrolled on his phone, his voice almost quiet as he silently patted his own stomach. You shook your head at his antics and asked Minghao to bring some sandwiches out from the bento you’d left in the backseat next to him. Minghao helped himself to the tomato egg sandwich and passed on the bento to Seungcheol’s lap. Your car smelled a bit delicious, you would say.
“When did you even have the time to make this?” Seungcheol mumbled between bites, “When did you even sleep?” He uttered under his breath.
“What he said,” Minghao affirmed from behind you both.
“Firstly, my precious Minghao, my precious Seungcheol,” (you heard Seungcheol physically gulp at your words), “chew before you speak. I can’t perform heimlich while driving,” you paused, “I woke up at five, and slept early last night. Maybe ten?” You thought out loud.
Both remained silent after receiving your message.
A while later, Seungcheol pointed his half-eaten sandwich at you, and you begrudgingly took a bite. Your stomach felt a bit funny. It was because this one had cucumbers. Not because his fingers brushed your cheek as you bit into the bread. It was the cucumber.
-
You stretched and let out a deep groan once you left your car. It took Minghao locking you in your own car to stop you from helping them unpack your trunk. You were caught off guard when you saw that it was a very fancy campsite, and your portable showers and matches would be going unused this time round. As you switched your slippers for some running shoes, you caught Seungcheol’s eyes as he carried a box of pots and pans with his right arm, and his left carrying your sleeping bag. It was at this moment that you felt relaxed (this was a little far-fetched — your shoulders were incredibly tense from driving) and could fully focus on the way he looked at ease, and shot you a quick derpy smile, one you exchanged for a cheeky, toothy smile. He carried your belongings carefully into the preset tents, where eight tents were set in the clearing in a circle, with a large gravel centre where chairs, mats, and a mini kitchen station were set up.
You and Hyeri were planning on rooming together, while Seungcheol and Jeonghan were going to be rooming together. As the area was being set up for use, a group of almost seventeen people unpacking from cars to the clearing, you helped around where you could (if you were allowed to, that was). You offered to help stock the ramen packets in the mini cabinet, only to be shooed by Mingyu, claiming that driving wore you out. You were carrying the extra chairs Nayeon brought when Jihoon quite literally tore them out of your hands. You even offered to re-park Seungkwan’s car and had successfully grabbed his keys when Seungcheol snatched them and neatly parallel parked in under 39 seconds with one hand on the steering wheel, right in front of your eyes. Your chest felt itchy as you watched on.
This left you, Jihyo, Jun, Seungkwan, and Seokmin doing measly jobs, like zipping up the tents so that flies wouldn’t enter them, offering water to the rest who were almost done, wandering aimlessly, or just sleeping (this was Jihyo). You were a bit restless and, in all honesty, didn’t like just sitting in silence. It was almost 12, and you were sure you weren’t the only one feeling famished. With the sun rising and reaching its peak, the clearing wasn’t offering much coverage to your (now) sweating bodies. The sweltering autumn heat would only get worse with the hunger.
When all was done and set up, you all rested in a circle outside your tents in the gravel clearing, and plans for lunch were quickly made. Your pots and pans were quickly put to use, and hot water turned to ramen broth. Sides of meat were grilled, and pre-packed sides were quickly emptied. You opted for chewing fast, huffing your meal in a matter of seconds. Seungcheol watched on in disapproval, and he tried to push more soup into your bowl, but you pulled away with a tongue out in mockery. It was fun to pull his leg, especially when he was trying to make life easier for you. You set yourself up and quickly washed your dishes.
Seungcheeol didn’t know how to feel. He watched as you washed, posture slightly frigid, working the suds on the cutlery, and grabbing Chan’s plate before he could interfere and made work of washing his too. He just wanted you to rest, enjoy the getaway for what it was. He just wanted to sit by your side for a bit longer, nag on you for a bit before feeding you a spoonful of anything at this point. It seemed that every moment you got had to be shared with the others, or with you burying yourself in tasks so you could avoid your own thoughts. He knew from a young age that you were the responsible type: you carried medicine almost everywhere, often carried extra toothbrushes, woke up early, left work last, and helped your juniors with tutoring during high school (and University). He was sure that if you could, you would be doing almost everyone’s work. He knew you did it out of care for others, but at what point did you lose the light in your eyes? He couldn’t help but watch on as you once again let yourself work on a day that was supposed to be yours as much as everybody else’s. He couldn’t help but be antsy for the rest of the day, up to the evening, when a bonfire marshmallow evening was planned.
-
The bonfire required wood logs to be cut into thin strips, enough for the flames to consume into the late night. Joshua brought his trusty camping axe and was off in a corner doing his own thing, which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the evening to darken by the minute.
You were listening to the mundane conversation between friends. Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Hansol had gone to the reception to rent some extra fans for the night and some extra lamps. The conversation had gone idle at some point, and feeling bored, you carried your phone onto Joshua’s side and used the flashlight on your phone to help him out.
“Thank you, your majesty, for your kind sacrifice,” he said as you used your flashlight to brighten his work surface. The rhythmic sounds of the axe falling onto the logs were rather nice, with the sounds of the insects and beetles buzzing in the distance.
He was grunting, with the lungs of an elderly lumberjack, when curiosity got hold of you.
“Hey, wanna switch real quick? I wanna try it too,” You asked, and he gave you a nod before exchanging spots.
The axe was small, and you made quick work of it as Joshua illuminated the rest of the bundle of logs.
On the other side of your clearing, Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Hanson had returned from their expedition with their loot of the day.
Seungcheol wanted to hand you the heat patches he picked up at the reception, but he couldn’t catch your eye, not until he noticed you chopping wood in the distance as Joshua laughed on.
He didn’t understand why, but it was at this moment that he felt the frustration of a few months build up as he walked on towards where you were giggling with Joshua.
-
“Why can’t you just sit down for a while?” He had immediately asked, when you slammed down the axe for the nth time, breaking a log into three.
In all honesty, Seungcheol heard the aggression in his own tone. He seldom spoke to anyone in this way, especially you, but seeing you run around, washing dishes on your own day off, seemed to just anger him more.
“Oh, you’re back, it’s nothing, I just wanted to have a try, and Josh let me.” Obviously, you heard the anger in his voice. You tried to bite your tongue, keep the conversation chill, and explain the situation. You knew Seungcheol got extra protective about you helping out more than you needed to, but what could you do? You understood, but how much more could you understand? “We were just finishing up as-”
“Yeah, I can see that, but don’t you get tired after doing shit all day? You’ve been up since five and drove us idiots, around, then you washed everyone’s fucking dishes. Now you can’t sit still for a few hours and have to cut down some stupid logs. I can’t understand you sometimes. Almost 15 years of friendship, and I can’t seem to understand if you’re just a fucking control freak who has to do everyone’s job, or if you just need to have things done your way. If you didn’t know, this is also your day off.”
His voice seemed to grow louder with every word as Joshua tried to usher him down. Seungcheol’s hands were clenched in fists as he grew frustrated and looked into the sky. He just couldn’t understand why you just couldn’t sit down. Enjoy a beer with him or two, laugh along, sleep in late, and be irresponsible.
You watched on as he ranted at you. You couldn’t quite believe his words, his aggression, and where exactly it was rooted, and the reasons for his sudden anger. The ax seemed a bit heavier in your palm as you felt the world sinking on you. Even Mingyu and Wonwoo’s conversation from the clearing seemed to shut up.
“Is that what you really think of me? A control freak?” You snorted as you felt your eyes burning, “You must think I’m insane if I’m just going to listen to you say all this bullshit. I don’t know if this is your misplaced anger for some other stuff, but I really don’t understand what crawled up your ass. I don’t know if you’ve been listening to me, Seungcheol, but I CHOSE to drive. I chose to wash the dishes, and if you listened to me just earlier, I was the one who asked Joshua to let me try. I understand you want me to rest, but I can’t help it if this is how I do it. Gosh, you can be so fucking annoying.”
He was about to retort, but you quickly shut the conversation down by resting Joshua’s axe on the wooden stump and walked off to the sink to wash your hands.
“Apologies for that, guys. I think I’ll be sleeping a bit early tonight. Don’t really feel up for it tonight.” You waved warmly at the concerned looks your friends gave you as you unzipped your tent.
Right before you could close the flap, in the distance, you saw Jeonghan making his way towards Joshua and Seungcheol.
-
Later, when Hyeri turned her face towards you, she patted your cheek.
“You’re not ok,” she said to herself, mostly.
“Do you also,” you sucked in some air, “think I’m some sort of control freak?”
“I don’t, and Seungcheol was stupid for that, insanely. Jeonghan almost ripped him a new one earlier, and I think he was too tired of watching you get tired.” She paused and got up, quickly, grabbing something from her bags. “He told me to give you these, by the way,” and offered you some heat patches for muscle pain.
You looked at them silently. “I don’t understand him.”
“That’s what you think.” She whispered, “I think he needs to get his shit together and learn to just confess. I think you should also. Just blasting you out in front of all of us and insulting you was stupid, but I get what he was trying to say, in some way i suppose.”
You looked at her, in mock betrayal.
“Let me finish before you silence me in the woods,” she cleared her throat, “I think he tends to hover around you a lot, and it’s because he cares for you. He loves you. The way he expressed it tonight was wrong, and I think that’s a conversation for the two of you to have, but I think calling him annoying would also be incorrect. He’s always been there for you, and so have you.” She chose her next words carefully before continuing.
“This is not me defending him, by the way. Jihyo quite literally had to hold back earlier. We love you a lot. We love you in ways that can’t be expressed, and so does he, just not only platonically. Maybe it’s been building up in his head for a while, just seeing you in this almost fanatic work state.”
“I don’t know what to say to him, or how to fix this.”
“You guys will figure it out, give it a good night’s rest.”
-
Breakfast was a quick affair of sandwiches, cereal, porridge, yoghurt, and coffee. It was spent in silence. Jun offered you some of his milk, which you gulped half of, before handing it back to him. You appreciated it. The love they gave you, in the form of a cup of milk, or in the form of a bowl of porridge, passed your way.
When it was time to go, you found Seungcheol and Minghao already waiting at your car.
You felt a bit unsure, almost expecting Seungcheol to join, maybe Jeonghan, in his car, but seeing his face, neutral next to Minghao’s faint smile, was not as bad as you thought it was going to be.
-
“I’m sorry. I wanna seriously apologize for my words yesterday. I called you a control freak, which was totally wrong.”
The area was silent. Minghao was in the bathroom of the rest stop, and you and Seungcheol were leaning against your car, windows open to let it all air out.
You hummed, hearing him and nodding as you looked off into the parking lot.
“It was wrong of me to bombard you and interrupt you and make it sound like you were doing something wrong. I know I said I didn’t understand you, but I really do. The way I expressed my care, sorry, I think it wasn’t care last night, especially with everyone there, was extremely demeaning to you and our friendship. I know you’re tired too, and yet you still do above and beyond, and I just crashed out on you. That was really shitty of me, and I wanted to apologize. You don’t have to forgive me at all. I just wanted to say my piece.”
“I wanna say sorry too. I called you annoying, and I know you just wanted me to chill. I don’t forgive you. Not yet, at least. I know we don’t usually argue for long, but I feel like maybe there was some honesty in between the stuff that was said last night.”
He cleared his throat, and the silence was uncomfortable for a bit, until you spoke up.
“What was your whole point? Your agenda, because I for the life of me can’t exactly figure out why you were acting that way. Sure, some of it was general care for an old friend, but what exactly was it that caused you to go batshit crazy on me?”
He hesitated for a bit. You didn’t want to see his face at the moment.
“I wanted to share a meal with you. In silence, maybe you would speak, or maybe I would, but I wanted to have this, for us, which we haven’t had in a while. I know, looking back, it was a bit stupid, but I just wanted you to relax, and maybe we could have some time alone, together.”
“Seungcheol, the whole group was pretty much there. How could we even be alone?” You turned to look at him, questioning his logic a bit. You went silent when you realized he was already facing you.
You had realized early on that Choi Seungcheol could keep a poker face. It came in handy when you guys worked on projects together and had to face tricky CEOs and their ever-obedient assistants. You realised he held his composure when your friends’ drunk antics got on his nerves. He even held his happiness for his promotion when he found out his co-worker hadn’t been chosen. He did that a lot, now that you stop to think about it.
But never really with you. Maybe it was the way his eyes shone clearly, and though they had never exactly dulled in front of you, you were happy to see them with clarity in front of you, even though the current situation between the two of you had now been shaken. Maybe it would help if you also took a step forward and were clear with him.
Your phone chimed against your pocket, bringing the conversation to a brief standstill.
new!
minghao: u love birds figure it out. I left with jun. love u guys tho pls don’t k word me
You stepped forward into the car, this time taking the initiative to sit in the passenger seat.
“Get in, Cheol. Minghao already escaped with Jun.
let’s get you that meal you promised.”
October 🍻 (all over again)
September had been great, had been new. You’d taken three days off to go strawberry picking, Solo-restauranting and joining a dance workshop. Seungcheol had initially been disappointed when you declined his offer for brunch on Saturday, but had been very excited to hear that you’d be driving off to Sokcho for their strawberries. September was restful and productive. But this one is about October.
Another Friday night arrived. Soonyoung was again to your left, and Seungcheol, always your right-hand man. This time, you also agreed that you drank too much, your rock paper scissor game had officially tanked, and as you looked at the circle of friends playing games, you couldn’t help but giggle. Your shoulders were lax, and you were humming to yourself. It was a good night indeed.
Eventually, it was you and Seungkwan who were the losers of another round of Red Ginseng. Seungkwan and you exchanged playful banter until you ultimately offered to take his shot as a punishment — the ultimate sacrifice. The clock was nearing one in the early morning, and your friends looked concerned. Perhaps even your shot would prove too much.
As you picked up the shot glass and pulled it to your lips, you felt it being gently pried away.
Clang,
Clang!
Two consecutive clangs of the now-empty shot glasses slammed down on the aged wooden table.
The whole friend group watched silently as Seungcheol burned through the two punishment shots, yours and Seungkwan’s together one after the other.
Oohs and Ahhs all erupted across the table, with Joshua muttering a gentleman, and Mingyu howling and hooting.
“That’s enough for tonight, guys,” Seungcheol said, victorious and giddy from all the chatter.
-
Your walk was rather rigid, and you felt as if your drawl was no longer as it used to be. You had no control of your limbs, yet you recognized the path home as you saw the elevator of your apartment complex inch closer and closer. You also inhaled the fragrance of charcoal, the deep foliage, and a burnt citrus: you were on Seungcheol’s back.
Occasionally, you would ask him for piggyback rides when you were having a bad day, and he would almost always drive to your dorms with two cones of the same ice cream, pushing you to try to steal a bite while he would steal a glance.
Now, you were in your living room, head dead on his lap. His fingers tapped your shoulders in an uneven rhythm, surprising you gently as you stared at the balcony where occasional stars twinkled back at the two of you ambiguously.
“Who handled the payment for dinner?” you had asked. Tap.
“I did. Don’t worry. I paid for yours too.” He had answered. Tap.
“Who took Soonyoung home?” You had asked. Tap.
“He didn’t drink tonight.” He’d answered.
“Who took me home?” Tap.
“I did,” Tap.
“Who’s gonna take you home?”
“Taxi.” He slurred. Tap.
“Stay,”
“Okay.”
-
maybe future second part with his pov...
thank U FOR READING!! comments and opinions are deeply appreciated.
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