h.onourable @rgtaemin-blog - Tumblr Blog

good fortune || taemin&&naeun

@rgnaeun

His sister’s marriage to the crown prince was a lot of things. It was the security of their family’s name in the highest ranks imaginable for anyone not born royal. It was a guarantee that the child growing in her womb would one day sit on the throne if born a boy. It was a sign that the family’s hard work in securing Seolhyun’s place as future queen had paid off But it was also a reminder of the fact that Taemin had yet to secure a bride of his own, that his own prospects for marriage were pushed aside after the failure of his father’s previous arrangement, when it became time to focus on Seolhyun’s ascension to royalty.

He was just as guilty as his father of neglecting his own personal life in the face of war and ambition. Before the wedding, he’d been content with putting any thoughts of marriage off until the estate funds weren’t being spent on gowns for Seolhyun and weaponry for Suryan armies. It only made sense; he’d been quietly loathsome of the thought of bringing children into a world ravaged by war since he was 15 years old. Courting and marriage seemed like frivolous lace and baubles in the face of cold steel and blood-stained landscapes. But it was as if he could feel himself aging moment by moment with every minute he spent standing proud at his sister’s wedding. He would be 24 soon, and without any prospective betrothals or potential heirs.

Perhaps when he’d made that vow to himself at 15, he hadn’t expected the war to last this long.

His father was only a little surprised when he came to him asking for advice on the matter. It didn’t take long for them to realize that they agreed on the fact that Taemin marrying down in status would be an insult to all the work they’d put in to see to Seolhyun’s queenhood, and that most ladies of his rank were either accounted for or altogether unsuitable for the likes of the young earl. Their attention landed on the royal family, now in-laws to Taemin, who’d already grown up alongside them. And while they scoffed at the passionate and impulsive engagements of the two elder princesses, the fact that the youngest was still not betrothed did not go unnoticed by the shrewd pair.

The age gap was significant but not insurmountable, and he’d heard nothing but pleasant accounts regarding her demeanor. From what he’d experienced for himself, he’d found her polite, precocious, and certainly not unpleasing to the eye. No doubt she’d make a fine wife to a good man someday, and after much contemplation, weeks in fact (after all, such a decision cannot be made lightly), he’d decided he’d try to be that man.

He’d dropped everything the next day to travel to the palace so he could obtain Daehyun’s permission to court her in person. The prince’s approval had been enthusiastic and unbridled, with the condition that the whole thing not be treated like a business transaction (typical of the characteristically romantic prince) and a playful (but very real) threat that if Taemin hurt her, he’d lose his head for it.

And so he found himself, dressed in his finest maroon silks, waiting on the grounds of the palace with three horses (because he was not so bold to court a princess without her chaperone present) standing behind him. He’d sent a lady-in-waiting to retrieve the princess with a handwritten note from him, and now all he could do with his nerves was feed a few sugar cubes to the bay mare nearest to him and exchange amicable small talk with the princess’s chaperone. He hadn’t expected himself to be so nervous; he was used to having all eyes on him. But certainly cultivating one’s own betrothal from scratch was more complex and more fragile a process than doing so with an engagement that had been established at birth. And only time would tell if the princess would warm up to him at all.

#` good fortune #rgnaeun #{ and so it beginS }#rgdaehyun #seolhyunrg #{ bc mentioned }

"To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, sir Taemin?”

“To my health,” he answers flatly, as he stands from his desk and plucks letters from a small stack with careful fingers and a casual indifference, tossing them aside if he deems them less than urgent.

“And that’s ‘Lord’ to you, Mr. Belenus. I am not so certain what Duuri customs entail, but certainly I have not spent almost a decade handling my father’s dukedom to be called ‘sir’.”

It is only then that he looks up from his task at hand, a letter in his hand, one that is decidedly more important than the rest with its feminine handwriting and the faint floral scent it boasts. He glances over the herbalist once, before tucking the letter away in the inside pocket of his waistcoat and waving in a tentative servant, who silently makes her way over to clear the soiled tea set from his work space.

“You’re awfully young for such a sought after herbalist, aren’t you?” Though it’s more of an observation than an actual question.

“But do not worry, Mr. Belenus, I am just as excited about this visit as you are. And, as such, I will try to keep it as brief a visit as possible.” His eyes fall back to his desk, where he begins shuffling through papers decorated with columns of numbers in his own slanted handwriting, “But my sister is worried that the stress of war is doing damage to my health.”

“And, apparently,” he adds with obvious skepticism, “My peers think you can do something about it better than my own physician can.”

#rgaiden #m;#{ hello~!#don't mind taemin he's always like this }

“This is our little secret."

“Certainly, Your Highness,” he answers comfortably, with ease, apparently not at all fazed by the request, as if it is one that comes up frequently in his conversations with the crown prince (which is a reasonable reaction, considering the fact that it is).

“You know your every secret is safe with me. Though I imagine the public can only live in the dark for so long before they remember how to count backwards from nine.”

He gives the prince a small, knowing smile, amusement faintly glinting in his eye. He isn’t so dense that the numbers sneaked past him, calculated early on that the pregnancy was unexpected, early, a precursor to the wedding rather than a result of it. But if he’s heard any rumors whispered among the resident court gossipers, he’s squashed them immediately, like the good brother, and now brother-in-law, that he is.

“But it is nothing to worry about. Throw a marvelous party when the baby arrives and they’ll all be far too distracted to count much of anything at all.”

#rgdaehyun #m;

ooc ;

hello beautiful people!

#ooc;

retrograderpg-blog

MEME TIME! As promised to kick off Retrograde’s opening and to make plotting easier for those who are facing troubles, sentence starters have been prepared for you that can be used as thread starters–unleash your creativity! This meme has no deadline and can be reblogged whenever you want, just make sure not to spam it (more memes will follow the next weeks, anyway)!

Try to send everyone one; remember the roleplay karma: send to receive!

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#meme; { i'm alive }

rgseunghee-blog

A New Flame || Taemin && Seunghee

rgtaemin-blog

rgseunghee:

She really had ought to have summoned the guards to her aid before attempting to chase after the thieves herself but if word got out that Seunghee, having stripped herself of any personal protection, got herself into trouble she would not hear the end of it. It was dangerous; it was unbefit a princess nor a lady; this was not Surya.

Lord Taemin’s strong voice calling out towards the guards had her looking up and caused discreet smile to dance across Seunghee’s lips, They knew he meant to follow through with his orders because of how he held himself and she could only respect and admire it.

“I believe it is just my ankle.” Penitence graced her features, she did not pout, of course not– she was a princess. “Though it does not hinder my flair for being naturally more exciting than everyone else.” She nods softly, “Let us go forth.” She encircles his proffered arm with both hands to steady herself and takes a tentative step, testing her weight on her heeled boot,

It would be unbecoming of a lady like her to admit defeat so her face settles on a small and short grimace. “I believe I can manage but perhaps we should partake in acasual stroll, to be safe.” If it was any other dazed, try-hard, loathful male on her arm Seunghee would have demanded to be brought to her quarters at once; Lord Taemin was something different, and she wouldn’t pass on a wonderful opportunity to browse around without having to hide herself. Someone as handsome as him leading her around could only be taken as a blessing and used.

She espied a particularly pretty bangle, its wood engraved with calming colours in swirling designs mimicking the waves of waters nearby. It was tasteful and not quite her usual taste, a strange occurance. With her hands still steadying herself accompanied by the help of the Lord’s bent arm she pulled him over to the eye-catching stall to browse, debating whether to try on the jewellary. Of course, she was sure it would be a lovely addition to her dainty wrists, she wasn’t quite sure how it would fit with her look. “Have any stalls caught your eye Lord Taemin?”

He grinned at that, releasing a small chuckle as he braced himself against her featherweight. “I do not think anything on this earth could hinder your flair for excitement, Highness.”

He did not miss her look of pain, though even that was dainty and ladylike, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything she did that wasn’t dainty and ladylike. It was a notable quality, he thought to himself, especially in a time when women seemed to think themselves brutish and resilient enough to lead armies of men. A man of tradition just like his father before him, Taemin found the shedding of delicate femininity tragic and even shameful; he still held on firmly to the belief that women had no place on a battlefield, especially those of noble birth who were made to carry the offspring of strong bloodlines. Where he’d seen plenty of highborn women who boasted one too many masculine traits and whose tongues had been unfortunately affected by this movement toward mannish women too bold for their own good, Seunghee seemed the picture of female perfection. And yet, she was far from the typically stale and monotonous type of the proper lady that he might have expected. The line between proper ladylike charm and inappropriate outspokenness seemed to shrink more every day, but Seunghee danced on it as gracefully as a swan, a refreshing breath of fresh air in the world of grueling war and equally dismal politics.

“I could only be so honored,” he replied with ease, inwardly praising himself in a mental voice that reminded him almost uncannily of his father’s; certainly he was getting old. “But please, Highness,” he added with a small, knowing smile, gingerly moving a stray strand of hair out of her face, “Perhaps you could suppress this apparent tendency toward mischief, lest we should have the entire Duuri Army running amok on your behalf. As amusing as it would be, I am almost certain it is not His Majesty’s ideal form of diplomacy.”

Or perhaps that was exactly what King Hyunjin’s ideal form of diplomacy was, Taemin thought ironically: anarchy, chaos, all in the name of Surya’s greater good.

He followed her willingly to the stall, the glint of jewelry catching fading sunlight and growing candlelight in glowing specks of various shades. He eyed a pair of sophisticated teardrop earrings, tiny yellow topaz hanging above large garnets in a striking deep red, all inlaid in a spectacularly crafted frame of shining gold. It was clearly a piece meant to attract Suryan buyers, and was likely vastly overpriced because of it. But he could afford vastly overpriced, and he’d decided upon first sight that those earrings did not belong on anyone else but his sister. In the next moment he gestured wordlessly to the merchant, pulling coins from a small, concealed satchel and handing them over in exchange for the earrings, all the while careful not to stir the princess too much in his actions. He did not miss the way she eyed the engraved bangle, and turned his attention back to her as he pocketed the newly wrapped gift.

“The woodcarvers here are particularly talented,” he began genuinely, only to add on with more of a hushed and playful tone, “Though their tea certainly leaves something to be desired.” He gestured to the jewelry spread again, watching as the merchant eagerly plucked the bangle from the table and held it out to the princess with an encouraging smile. “But I am a man of learning, and I do have a certain appreciation for the penmanship of Duuri scholars. Their tea may be bitter, but they are certainly not lacking in wisdom. I may very well have to build a second library for all of the books I’ve purchased since I’ve arrived here. Go on,” he urges respectfully without much of a beat, “I think he wants you to try it on.”

#rgseunghee #l;duur #p;#p;a new flame #rg:leofestival #{ shhhh don't look i'm not technically here or back from hiatus yet #/disappears again in a puff of smoke/ }#{ i'm not even sure what this is i'm sorry }

rgdaehyun

dragonborn daehyun & im taemin ! “ because you are my brother from another mother. “

“your highness,” he begins cooly, respectfully, obediently, “you confuse me. you say you will have my head for conspiracy and yet in the same breath you command me to conspire against my own uncle.” it took all he had to remain calm in the face of the mad prince. “certainly no one is more loyal to the crown than i, but i must say it’d be difficult to serve my king and my country with my head separate from my neck.”

#rgdaehyun #mb;#{ yes #all of the yes }#hc;

retrograderpg-blog

RETROGRADE’s very first meme is here!! It’s a meme consisting of a list of prompts you may reblog up to three times over the week ( until 08/30, because another meme will be posted then! Of course you are free to publish responses even after that date if you still have unanswered prompts ). You may answer the prompts in canon verse, present, past, future, or AU; use them as starters or drabbles; let your imagination run wild!

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#m;

lgcwoohee-deactivated20220916

❛ — persuasion at its finest

rgtaemin-blog

rgiseul:

The carriage ride to the Im estate was long but nothing foreign to the young Lady. Too often had she spent hours in the very same carriage, patiently waiting for her arrival at the place she liked to deem her second home; always fond of remembering the days when she was younger and spent day in day out playing and growing up with the Im siblings. They helped her forget about the abandonment she got to experience at her own home across the nation. Especially Lord Taemin was someone she had grown attached to over the years; a fine young man with ambition in his eyes and wits on his tongue–everything a woman of her age would desire in a man. Though the older she got, the more did her attraction towards him change. Their little occasional deals were something Iseul always looked forward to, made her life a tad more exciting than it already was.

Today’s deal was going to be different than the previous ones, though; the request that lied on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be spoken, was something she had never asked for before. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and her only way to get what she wanted was through him.

It wasn’t until thirty minutes later, now late evening, when the wheels of the carriage came to a halt and a man helped her out. Brown doe-like eyes curved ever so slightly, a toothless smile making its way across her lips when the guards welcomed her and the gates were opened. Her arrival hadn’t been announced before, Iseul had made sure of that, wanting her visit to be a surprise. Her plan would work better that way.

She was greeted enthusiastically by a few maids, one of them being kind enough to inform Iseul of Taemin’s whereabouts. A thank you and a sugarsweet grin later and she was on her way to the Lord’s study, making sure the brown locks that sat upon her shoulder did not cover her cleavage, for she had clad herself in a low cut dress, one that emphasized her collarbones and bust and was simple enough to work move around freely in.

Anything for her plan to work.

“My Lord, you should treat yourself with a break. It is late already.” Her voice was soft, calm as she closed the door behind herself upon stepping in without a single knock or warning; though her eyes were always deep, attentive, already lying on the man she viewed as her mission for the night.

—– ☾ ★ ✦ Taemin ☽

It did not matter that he’d been groomed for this position of power since he was a child, nor did it matter that he’d sat at the head of the household in place of his father since he was barely fifteen, the levels of stress he faced due to the collective of recent events would likely have him sprouting grey hairs before he turned thirty. The coup on Tempestade had seemed a rash move, even for Hyunjin and his advisers, and though he’d managed to escape the most tangible political effects of the attack by avoiding court altogether, he was not exempt of consequences of his own.

The payback of Blasewyn’s and Iatha’s debts to Duur did not put off the estate too horribly, though the increased taxes on local wine exports would be felt by the merchants and farmers and sailors of the port cities under the Duke’s jurisdiction. No doubt, the daily flux of citizens knocking on his door to complain about the seas crawling with foreign military ships in addition to the usual pirates, about the raise in taxes and the Suryan troops crawling the streets and demanding food, weapons, and lodging would increase dramatically, to beg him to fix things, to curse his father, as if he were a king with the power to end the war, and as if he wasn’t already well aware of the effects of war on his patch of jurisdiction.

Maintaining the flourishing merchant economy of Blasewyn and the already suffering tourism of Iatha’s ports and beaches would be a feat within itself; not wringing the necks of whining, ungrateful citizens who thought it proper to give him headaches over hungry chickens and the rising costs of purple silks, was one he was barely succeeding at. He often had to refrain from coolly reminding those who came to him that in Tempestade, they were lucky to still have limbs attached to their bodies, let alone moderate summer temperatures and slightly expensive candle wax.

On the inside, he was harried and stressed, his paranoia of the war reaching Blasewyn taking its toll. But on the outside he appeared as calm and stony-faced as ever. This was the state he was in when she arrived, in all her glory, appearing in his father’s study unannounced.

His eyes flickered away from the parchment in front of him for only a brief moment, taking in her appearance, the lavish colors of her dress, the way she carried herself in such confidence, the way soft brown curls framed the ample curve of her breasts with deliberate perfection. His expression remained stoic, perhaps even a little bored; it was an unwanted interruption, but at least she was not unpleasant to look at.

“Is it?” he responded with very little care in his tone, “I hadn’t noticed.”

He continued to scratch numbers in neat columns, a record of finances, expenses, imports, exports, inventory, notes about the change in taxes, a list he would eventually send to his father when he was done compiling it, alongside a detailed letter recounting the state of affairs in their governed territories. His perfectly brewed tea, sat to his left in fine porcelain, cold and virtually untouched. Another brief glance away from the ledger revealed that she was still standing, as bold and as bright as the sun, in his study, apparently determined to pull him away from his work.

“And to what do I owe this surprise visit, Lady Iseul?”

#p;#p;persuasion at its finest #rgiseul #l;surya #l;blasewyn

the im siblings - { lady } seolhyun & { lord } taemin

he could not resist the appeal of beautiful noblewomen and the rampant gossip and political strategy that came from stepping on soil christened by royals, nor did he fancy being away from his dear sister for too long. she had a role to play just as he did, and as a seasoned politician, he felt it was his obligation to make sure his sister would grow into a woman capable of being queen.

#hc;#mb;#rgseolhyun #{ drops this here now that it's been an acceptable number of days since the last one }#{ i know taemin's blond in that pic but idec it was too perfect otherwise not to use it }#{ yOLO }#{ it should also be noted that even tho there are no boleyn gifs in this moodboard the super canon headcanon is that #seolhyun and taemin are anne and george and that's very important }#{ okay bye i'm shutting up now }

rgdaehyun

––✱ destructive

rgtaemin-blog

rgdaehyun:

a flicker of doubt washes over his expression, though it’s brief, quickly gone; clarity follows after, gives structure to his lips, to his eyes; they don’t look so lost anymore, confusion becomes faint, a direction becomes clear.

“no.” he begins, eyes wide. his body stills as the idea comes forward, rushes above all thoughts, puts an end to the flurry of thoughts that fray his mind, leave it tattered with blank spaces and rash decisions. “no.” he repeats. “this is when we turn to you. after all, you’ve chosen to hide this from me–you must care for me, then. must care for your sister.” a pause ensues and tugs at his lips, gives them shape, gives them a curve; daehyun has the audacity to smile. “that must mean, of course, you care about yourself. do you like the position you’re in, taemin?”

the taste of madness is bitter on his tongue, almost rusted; though, he thinks, it’s what blood must taste like, it must be what happens with control–this is his warning, his chance to opt out of the strange feeling that gathers at the top of his spine, below his head, near his neck; from there it trickles down, fills the spaces between bones, shocks his nerves, changes his person, or so it feels that way. it feels as if he’s transforming then, leaving a cloak of elegance and kindness to wear something else, something harsher, more direct. it invades his muscles, makes his arm lift, his finger point; then he presses it against taemin’s shoulder, not quite gentle, not quite demanding, somewhere in between–a hesitant movement.

“you decided not to tell me about this, so now you have to take care of the problem. if you’re going to hide things from me like you’re saving half the nation, then, of course, you should go through with it. i mean, if you’re worried about me taking the crown, your uncle’s life will be, in the least, something that’ll calm my nerves.”

emotions ripple past him, though he stands still, weathers the shifts, the way his body wants to tilt back, wants to escape the too small room.

“because, as king, i won’t tolerate these petty little things. as king, i’ll make sure to collect my first two heads for conspiracy.”

there is madness in the prince’s eyes, a change from his kind and softhearted demeanor, and yet uncannily similar to the madness the boy’s father has become known for across the nations. it’s an unsettling sight, even for taemin, who is so often unfazed by the truths and tragedies of war and politics and money, to see a flash of his majesty in the dark browns of the prince said to have the biggest heart, the prince who is supposedly the living, breathing antonym of his father. perhaps it has something to do with the fact that taemin is the object the mad prince has set his father’s gaze on, or perhaps it is the fleeting thought that there is potential for daehyun to turn out more like his father than could ever be expected after all. between the thought of advising the prince he knows now as king, and that of advising a king reminiscent of the one currently sitting the throne, taemin can’t decide which is more exhausting.

his brow twitches, a fleeting scowl that vanishes just as fast as it appears. he stiffens inwardly, because the question is clearly not an innocent one, is an inquiry full of threatening implication. he dare not ask the prince to clarify the thinly veiled implications of his words, for such an act would be terribly out of place, even for a man of taemin’s stature, nor does he bristle as he so wants to in the face of once again witnessing the love he bears for his sister being questioned. so he doesn’t, dissecting the words silently in his mind instead, while appeasing his obligation to respond with a polite, yet ambiguous, “of course.”

then there’s a finger digging into his shoulder in a way that taemin thinks is meant to be threatening, intimidating, though he can’t be quite sure. his concerns about the sudden interrogation are confirmed by the action, and even more so when daehyun opens his mouth next.

taemin’s first thoughts center around the fact that they are back to where they started, and if daehyun was going to leave it all to taemin, as taemin had initially been planning for, then why on earth are they standing here having this pointless conversation? did the prince feel the need to verify his authority by shoving taemin around and then commanding him to finish what he’d already started?

but it’s the blatant threat to his life that briefly wipes taemin’s thoughts clean. his fingertips dig into the silver of the goblet in his hand, and if he were not so well trained in the art of controlling his chi, they likely would have left dents in the fine metal. years of loyalty, a childhood given up to befriend the royal family and an adolescence sacrificed to keep the northeastern region of the country steadfast and sound in a time of brutal war, a lifetime of dedication to the throne, and this, a threat to lose his head for his uncle’s crimes from an unpredictable boy-prince, was what he had to show for it.

#rgdaehyun #p;#p;destructive #l;surya

im taemin - a moodboard

“I have spent all day entertaining fine ladies and I must admit I’ve grown rather weary of it...”

“The world is a small place, after all. And war makes it unbelievably smaller.”

#hc;#mb;#{ leaves this here as i avoid all other responsibilities and draft at least five more }

meonjirg

family reunion; taemin

rgtaemin-blog

meonjirg:

If she could, Isana would have unleashed hell on earth that very instant. His words did strike a cord in her. It was sheer will power and image that prevented her from even causing a scene. She would have not risked the custody of her son for anything in the world either. She did not know how to engage him. He was influential enough to possibly arrest her; however, she did have her friends all around the earth kingdom that would be willing to save her from that disconcerting blunder. In her arms, there was also a confused Jun who was resting his head on her shoulder while he had his gaze on his mother’s interlocutor. She had to remain calm, but her honor and her ego suffered a severe blow.

“Attempted murder? My lord, you cannot simply accuse someone just because she happened to work for you for a couple of wasted months,” she retorted looking down on him. “Wouldn’t it be quite embarrassing if you were to accuse a woman to have been close enough to end your life? Surely a woman is to weak in Suryan standards to even be capable of such atrocity. I accept apologies; however, you do not have to lower yourself for a member of the merchant class. Wait, did I say merchant class in Duur, which is a kingdom with a ruling council mostly composed of rich members of the bourgeoisie. It would be hard to arrest me.”

In Surya, her trump card would have been futile. The word of the noble even the lowest of one was law. She, then, turned to her child and stroke his hair. He was probably bored already while staring back and forth to each of them. She wished that this moment would have never happened. What had the most impact in his delivery was when he questioned the nature of her son, or ‘their’ son.

“Never in my whole life did I consider him as an excuse for anything I have done,” she pause to pinch the bridge o his nose lightly. “However if I would have gone back nearly two years already, I would have never let lust meddle in my business. Sadly, I cannot confess to have stole this toddler of my. I fear that the only accusation, which is a crime I am guilty of, that I will wholeheartedly testify for is having the son of arrogant, impudent, cowardly, self-assured imbecile who pinned me down on his desk instead of reviewing the paperwork that had been pilling up and of drinking the tea he would always drink twice a day. That horrid bitter tea that I would never sell, because they are far better exquisite leaves that you can find all around the world.”

Isana smiled at him radiantly.

“ Of course, when you’re a Suryan cunt it must be pretty hard. Twenty-three years old, not even married and without any heir. Yes, indeed, must be hard to be the Earl of Iatha.”

“Certainly they were not wasted,” he uttered dangerously, raising an eyebrow at her carelessly fearless demeanor, “I’m sure a snake like yourself searched every nook and cranny of my father’s estate for secrets you might hope to sell to the highest bidder.” The hint of a sneer formed on his lips, the memory of her attempt on his life flooding back into his mind, tinted with the vivid reds of anger at someone as low and cowardly as his failed assassin trying to take his life. “A cowardly whore of a witch is hardly a woman at all. And if I were so foolish to think that a woman’s weakness negates her ability to take a man’s life, I would have perished long ago. Know that the only thing I am sorry for is that I did not end your life when I had the chance.” His scathing words, still low and scarily calm, were paused briefly in their tracks when his gaze momentarily flickered over to the child, who seemed to stare back at him with no fear of any kind. “You can cower here in Duur for as long as you like, pretending you are so powerful, but the moment you set foot outside its borders, I will see to it that you suffer the slowest and most painful execution that Surya has to offer.”

He would not let his emotions get the best of him, nor was immediate revenge possible considering the setting. A ceasefire meant just that, and the streets would likely turn to anarchy the moment either of them showed the faintest signs of physical hostility. It was Daehyun’s ideal setting of peace, though, to Taemin, it felt more like everyone inner hatred of their respective enemies was building up inside of each and every citizen; likely, such a long quiet would only result in an even louder wave of violence the moment this ridiculous facade of a peace mandate was lifted.

The words of her monologue did not take long to sink in, though he had barely heard the second half, his mind locking in on the meaning behind them and his eyes on the boy in her arms. He understood now, why the child’s intent gaze made him uneasy; because it was uncanny, because his were the intense eyes Taemin saw when his father was deep in thought, the same eyes he saw staring back at him in the mirror...the eyes of an Im. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had a son, a bastard son, a son of the enemy, but a son nonetheless. His reluctance to father a child in a time of raging war no longer mattered, because here was his own flesh and blood staring him in the face.

“Quiet your rambling, woman,” he snapped, no longer laying eyes on the wicked mother of his child. He couldn’t focus when she was running her mouth like that, throwing her unworthy arrogance in his face, couldn’t listen to the cogs spinning furiously in his brain. Several moments passed before he spoke again, his words noticeably less scathing than before, his eyes locked with the child’s, with his child’s, as if looking away would cause the boy to disappear like a fleeting hallucination. “It’s incredible isn’t it,” he began cryptically, still not looking at her, as if he were speaking more to himself than addressing her again, “That your attempt to end a life resulted in the creation of one instead.”

#meonjirg #p;#p;family reunion #rg:leofestival

rgdaehyun

––✱ destructive

rgtaemin-blog

rgdaehyun:

his knuckles turn white as he tightens his fist, holds back the urge to let out the rage, to smash his hands against the wall, the table, taemin himself; it’s difficult to speak to people in the palace, he thinks, there’s something about ranks and labels that pushes logic out of the window, that makes each person want to survive rather than help, to move forward than to look back, to give someone a hand.

because this shouldn’t be a matter of names, of fault and blame–this is a matter of seolhyun’s life tarnished, of a criminal man still free.

“this is what i hate about you people.” he begins, nearly spits his words; his tone is thick with venom, lingers in the air, feels rusted against his tongue, tastes bitter, so different from the usual sugared syllables he strings. even his lips twist at an unfamiliar angle, a scowl he hasn’t worn in so long, strong in its form, sad in its curve.

“all you care about is reputation and saving yourself from punishment your rightly deserve. we’re not talking about ranks here–we’re talking about seolhyun! we’re talking about someone innocent who’s been raped, taemin, raped by your uncle! besides, if you’d have told me, i would have made sure he’d have gotten punished without even a mention of her.”

there’s a pause as the image rushes back, feels like heated liquid as it trickles down his spine, makes him furious again, pathetic with impotence; because he can’t change the past, no matter how thick it feels in the air, how vibrant he sees it; not by battering his frustrations against taemin, not by hanging his uncle, either.

and the saddest part, the piece daehyun wants to ignore is the repercussion seolhyun will feel if the news spreads; taemin is right in that, the rift would grow, the distance to long–she would be gone without a word from himself.

justice is a thing the palace has yet to know, much like forgiveness, reason.

yet, being a prince teaches many things to daehyun, especially the limits of being the crown prince. he’s learned how to act under the veil of secrecy, how to move without being detected, how to live without his father noticing.

this mentality inspires an idea, leaves the strands of it in his thoughts; he weaves it together with a mumble of his lips, with a shake of the head. a faint murmur spills in front of him, falls in his clothes, tumbles down, clatters at the floor somewhere between his shoes. “he has to pay.”

and it grows, he fans the flame. soon he’s turning up to face taemin with determination; the quivers of frustration fall off, leave only purpose behind.

“then we impart our own justice before he can even think that someone else knows. i want to make him pay.”

he lets daehyun’s rant continue, to fill the room with invisible fire, to ignite the one that’s been building up painful and white hot inside of taemin for two years now. it doesn’t matter that every word is a dagger, thrown by a young prince whose naivety shows in his pure urge to save the world with justice and righteousness and peace. taemin is almost certain that daehyun’s need to do the right thing as dictated by an overactive moral compass will be the death of him. he can only hope the prince’s morality will not get him killed before he pieces the nation back together.

“you will soon have a country to run,” he explains simply, his voice low in tone and volume, respectful without any inkling of cautiousness, “i did not want to burden you with something so insignificant to the war and to your people when i could very well handle it myself.” he braces himself against the inevitable onslaught of daehyun’s emotional protests and biting insults of taemin’s name. it’s clear the boy still has much to learn before he’ll be able to sit comfortably in the throne being readied for him.

daehyun’s firm declaration surprises the earl, who is used to hearing nothing from the prince but anecdotes of giving the enemy the benefit of the doubt. it’s the first expression of authority taemin has seen that has lead him to believe the prince might actually be ready and worthy to be king. his voice comes out determined and sure, in control and authoritative, no longer bearing the tremble of doubt or emotion.

“and how, your highness,” he begins with genuine interest, “if i may be so bold, do you plan on doing that?”

#rgdaehyun #p;#p;destructive

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A New Flame || Taemin && Seunghee

rgtaemin-blog

rgseunghee:

The shoes fitted for her were not ones made for running nor were they any good for cobbled stones. Running over the pathway that was ridden with indents of cracks had her already throbbing ankle twisting this way and that as she chased after the thief. Her body could no longer support her balance on such a weakness and she was sent crashing in another direction soon after. She could only sputter in surprise when hands reached out to catch her, grasping her sides for only a moment to steady her and then letting go. Seunghee could only imagine the figure behind her– perhaps an old man or young kid thinking their ‘great service’ to a noble would win them some sort of reward, she knew those types and had lived around them for too long in her own kingdom and there would be no difference in Duur.

Familiar eyes had Seunghee sputtering once again, an action most unfit for royalty. Lord Taemin’s mouth formed words but she was deaf to them in her anger and surprise. She gathered her wits with speed, dusting her skirts off and angrily jaunting a finger in the way the man had run. “That thief snatched my coin purse right from my grasp, he must have mistaken me for someone who would not fight back or pursue. He has death upon him if he thinks he is to get away with this.” Her gloves light up with the flames glowing at her fingertips, unnoticed by the princess..

Only a whimper escaped her tightly pressed lips as she attempted yet another step with her injury, barrelling straight into the lord once more. “Curse these blasted boots, good for nothing–” Only then did she notice how she must look to the lord, one who was familiar to court and could let all the right people know about her little excursion . “I-…” Seunghee fought the urge to pull her lip in past her teeth to nibble, masking her face into indifference. “I only meant to look for some new books and such.”

Although it made logical sense for the lord to bid his time upon whatever he found to his liking during the festivities in Duur, it did surprise her that fate would have knocked her, quite literally, into someone she did know in such an expansive crowd. “And what, perchance, were you doing out here without a fine lady on your arm, Lord Taemin?” She asked with a trained eyebrow.

He glanced over his shoulder, peering through the shifting crowd for any signs of the thief in question, but it was virtually impossible to spot any one person in the dense mass of festival goers. A scowl knitted his brow, because certainly Duur wasn’t so uncivilized to let thieves get away with robbing a member of royalty; if they were anywhere where Taemin held jurisdiction, he would very likely have the thief’s hands removed, a loud message to anyone else who thought it proper to steal instead of earning their keep like honest citizens. But this was not Blasewyn, nor was it even Surya, and he had little power here.

“You there!” He called to a pair of guards standing by looking completely indifferent to the situation at hand. “A princess of Surya has been robbed and all you do is stand there like a pair of invalids. Certainly the head of your royal guard would be appalled to hear of your incompetence. Or should I go straight to Her Highness’s father instead?”

They seemed to get the message, barely masking their resentment in the glance they exchanged before disappearing into the crowd. He glared at their retreating forms until they were out of sight, then turned his attention back to the princess, barely reaching out in time to catch her when she stumbled against him again.

“Are you hurt?” So much for peace between the nations. “Madam, pardon my forwardness, but considering recent events, did you not think that, perhaps, shedding your chaperone would be dangerous?” There was an explanation, a sheepish excuse spilling from pink lips, something about books, books that were nowhere to be seen on her person, and he found himself having to bite back an amused smirk, trying to remain stern and serious and proper, as if he were lecturing his own sister.

“I have spent all day entertaining fine ladies and I must admit I’ve grown rather weary of it,” he responded easily with a small smile, a hand lingering on the small of her back to make sure she was steady on her feet, “Though none of their company seemed nearly as exciting as yours seems to be.” He indicates her injury with a knowing look, then observes the crowd around them, suddenly concerned of anyone else hiding away in mass of people that might have harbored any hostility toward the princess, “Shall we move along?” he suggested, offering his arm, "Are you able to walk?”

#rgseunghee #p;#p;a new flame #rg:leofestival

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Beautiful Period Drama Screencaps [8/?] - Belle

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A New Flame || Taemin && Seunghee

rgtaemin-blog

rgseunghee:

There was no rules against it but she could tell from the stares she received that it was foreign to them. Seunghee paid them no mind, she was a princess, but it annoyed her that she would be judged for going out along strictly because she was a women and it just wasn’t what was done. There were couples all around her; lords with ladies on their arms like accessories had her turning away in a mix of indifference and well hidden jealousy. Seunghee was a newly turned woman and she didn’t need the judgement that came along at that age when she walked about alone. She was dressed to a tee, her outfit carefully chosen for the outing. Of course, her maids knew nothing of where she was going and how, but she gave them a nod in consent when offered the clothing.

It was with a great deal of stealth that Seunghee managed her way out into the Duur common area without any fishtailing guards to accompany her. The guards would be a dead giveaway when she really just wanted to blend in to some sort of extent. Her getaway may have been spurred by the fact that everyone else in her family was preoccupied with only Aeron exempt and she did not appreciate any possibility that she would be stuck in the same room as him; outside would be safer, more people and more places to hide from everyone else– she needed a break.

Seunghee adjusted her coin purse; a small, dainty bag big enough to fit her smaller coin purse and a couple of other necessities– just in cases. There were many merchants and stalls surrounding her, of different sizes and varieties and she didn’t know quite where to start until a small miscellaneous stall grabbed her eye. Shiny little trinkets and hair pieces all glimmered in the sun and called out for her attention and coins. Her hand reached to her side to retrieve some coins for what she intended to purchase when out of her peripheral a hand shot out and grabbed the strap, yanking it off of her shoulder, while pushing her down with the other. Seunghee crashed down to the cobble stone, her ankle twisting at an odd ankle as she went down and the surprise of it had her crying out. There was but a moment of hesitation before she gathered the sense to get back on her feet, hissing at the sting and jerk as she put weight on her injury, attempting to chase after the thief. She could barely run, the pressure too much for her ankle, frustration building as flames licked at her fingertips.

A day of festivities was plenty to push the earl toward utter weariness, though it would never show on his face. There was only so much entertaining of foreign and native princesses alike that a young man could handle, and his cheeks ached from polite smiles and practiced formalities. But he hadn’t forgotten his father’s words, words that were tinged with a hint of foreboding, as they often were; so much could be expected from a man who created and played at war for a living.

The common marketplace was bustling and colorful, packed to the brim with men and women and children in silks and satins that caught the light of flickering torches, freshly lit to ward away dusk’s impending dimness. Taemin, as any aristocrat might, was keen on travel, on exploring new cultures and strange customs, bringing home expensive trinkets to adorn ornate walls and fireplace mantles. But he was not such a fan of such dense crowds, mixed with nobles and commoners alike. He grew tired of the scents of Duur’s bitter teas and stifling incense, could only handle the smell of fresh earth for so long before he craved the calming aroma of a wood-burning fire. And Vessels forbid his father find him another princess to entertain. As much as he saw the benefits in marrying one, he was all too aware of how dull and stiff noble ladies could be, and princesses were the most concentrated of them all.

Though, he was not oblivious to the exceptions to this rule, to the noble and royal women who’d learned the art of being proper without being boring, of being chaste without being prudish. Certainly his sister was one, an engaging conversationalist and yet never stepping out of her place, intriguing and clever and witty without stepping on her company’s toes. Of course, that was to be expected of an Im. But she was not the only exceptional lady he’d come to know after years of living among Suryan royalty; perhaps it was her youth, her natural precociousness paired with a keen glint in her eye and sprinkled with a notable sense of duty and propriety, that kept her bright and fascinating. Though they’d spent very little time together, just the two of them, he could only imagine that hers would be the most enjoyable company.

Perhaps I am turning into an old man after all, he thought to himself with a small knowing smile, carelessly scanning another booth’s display of shiny trinkets. He purchased a few items, an elaborately carved pipe for display in the family’s smoking room, a set of shining maroon hair pins for his sister, and an intricately embroidered handkerchief for his father’s ward, handing the merchant a few coins before going on his way, .

One step into the meandering crowd lead him right into the path of a running festival goer. He steadied himself, caught the figure who’d collided with him, then immediately, and respectfully, withdrew his hands when he saw the face of the youngest Suryan princess, the precocious princess in question, staring back at him.

“Highness?” he breathed, frowning, because she looked incredibly distressed, and because, after a quick survey of the crowd, it was clear she was not anywhere near a royal escort or a chaperone of any kind. “Forgive me, but what on earth are you doing here? Are you alright?”

#rgseunghee #p;#p;a new flame #rg:leofestival #l;duur

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