dangerously.
sbhaejoo:
composed and cordial as always, haejoo bows. “lord han, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” she says, raising her glass and smelling the wine before sipping the liquid as red as her lips. “once again his majesty threw a beautiful ball to the late queen.” the words slip through her tongue as if she rehearsed them just in case someone heard her. “as hard at the time is, i hope my lord can have a fun night.” the last sentence is way more honest than the other but still covers the real meaning of it. and she would love to help him achieve it, if only the whitefire palace wasn’t too crowded.
yet another evening of lavish spending for the upper class of norta, while the rest of the kingdom struggles to keep on living in misery. it is an insult to queen areum’s memory. not a single guest dares to raise a concern. the last person who objected was his predecessor. wonjae still attends the ball every year, representing what is left of the late queen’s original family. a reminder that his clan is present and free of the supposed derangement that put her to death. court intrigues are to be avoided under his rule. ill comes seldom to the quiet and wise.
condolences turned into meaningless words as years passed by. perhaps they were never sincere. he still receives them with an impassive expression. show neither disregard nor inclination, remain neutral. his walls are not limited to emotions, but only the dauntless will notice. on the last step into the monumental room he triggers his power nullification, perhaps out of mistrust. superstition is another option, should the gods ask for another sacrifice from the same flesh and bone.
lord han glances at the gardens, from a vantage point, one of the multiple balconies in the palace. silvers and reds are separated by the inoculate structure of whitefire. nobility remains as untouchable as ever. it seems ironic to consider this was his sister’s last view before her dainty frame plummeted down a bed of green. shiny blood met leaves and petals, which the finder of the corpse could have kept for their own interests. tools fashioned by tragedy. in the middle of the crowd, it is easy to fall prey to the paranoia areum was accused of by her husband and king.
his train of thought is instantly diverted when he notices the first daughter of house jeon in his field of vision. what a surprise — she isn’t hanging by the arm of her dear father, always sheltering his most valued pearl. does it result exhausting to pose as the ever appealing treasure of her kin? he only voices such interrogation in the back of his head. lord han doesn’t take pleasure in being showered with attention. luckily for him, his fate doesn’t rely on house alliances, and meddling with the han siblings’ marriages for the sake of politics goes against his beliefs.
numerous pairs of eyes, lord insik’s included, follow the mermaid dressed in twilight as she approaches. men go after her siren song without fail, such is her curse and gift. wonjae reciprocates her gesture, bowing his head to greet her. two acquaintances exchanging pleasantries like etiquette commands. again. it is play pretend for the crowd. the rest are guilty of indulging in equal practices after all. when they retreat to their castles and forts, the illusion of civility will be gone.
“we are in great debt to his majesty, for this ball keeps queen areum’s memory in our hearts,” he remarks politely, not a single trace of uncertainty is found in his voice. wonjae bears with lies just fine, even in the crowded atmosphere.
“renowned is your kindness in every corner of the realm, lady haejoo,” for a moment, the spark in his irides appears to shimmer.
“to find myself worthy of the concern of norta’s flower is touching enough,” he continues, almost absently, in an attempt to camouflage the intentions that lie in their dialogue.
