you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do it, he doesn't even come to your first meeting! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts. Leaving your past love behind and everything you know for a foreign country, just to be unwanted by your new 'husband' is almost enough to break you. You're ready to go through the motions, play your role, but do you really know who Emperor Gojo is? Can both of you find an agreement or love - and once you do, how do you be just one of his women?
pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader
contents/warnings - Historically INNACURATE, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, smut, court tactics, reader missing her lover Suguru, drama, he falls first and he falls hard. This chap - a lot of emotions and angst, past loves, Suguru in his regret arc, cute, down bad Satoru - he is SO IN LOVE. No smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of violence, say hi to Jin Shi too!!
A/N - I made this one a little shorter so I can actually start putting these out again more regularly, 10k plus is a little fkn daunting ahh! We have three more chapters to wrap these cuties up. Ty for everyone who was so patient!
art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹
part seven - playlist - masterlist - part nine (soon)
part eight
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Satoru asks you the next morning – Lola is locked up and so is Suguru, down in the dungeons.
Satoru wants them both dead, however he needs Suguru alive for just a bit.
Your dumb fucking Knight.
He looks at you carefully, his baby blue eyes flickering against your skin, you’re still not fully your normal color, paled just a bit, he pauses – brushing a lock of your hair back as you walk to him. “Should you even be up?”
“I will go insane laying in bed all day,” you sway just a bit, his hand coming to grip your waist, leaning down and kissing the top of your head.
“Foolish girl, can’t even stand up,” he clicks his tongue, you rest your head against his chest, hugging him tightly around his waist, yawning just a bit. “Go back to sleep.”
“I must see what is going on,” your mind races – a million thoughts abound, wondering just what exactly had transpired.
It was only bits and pieces.
The emperor sighs, shaking his head as he buries his face against your neck, he’s exhausted, too. He barely got a bit of sleep before convening with the barrister, holding an emergency meeting of his council due to Lola’s return, and the poisoning of his Empress. The one in his arms, so very weak – but she is alive.
“I hated leaving the bed,” he admits softly, brushing your hair back, his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, inhaling again, like he can’t get enough of you. “I was so fucking scared that…”
“I am here, Emperor,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “I am feeling mostly back to normal, I promise.”
“And has there been any…” He trails off, unable to finish, feeling you tense just a bit, pulling back to look up at him, as he cups your face.
“No,” you whisper – knowing his question without him asking.
Blood.
Has there been any blood?
Were you still pregnant?
“None at all?” He asks, swallowing visibly, his eyes burning, dark circles marring his otherwise perfect complexion. You grip his wrist gently, shaking your head.
“None at all, Toru,” he exhales in relief, though he doesn’t want to get too excited – you still had been poisoned, even with Mao’s quick work of it. “I am going to get checked in a bit, I just… wanted to know about… her.”
“Lola?” He says it like a curse word – it is one, truly. You nod. “She’s locked up for the moment, but she won’t live to see the week.”
“Toru, should you truly-”
“I will kill her,” he cuts you off, ever so quiet, tilting your chin. “For everything she fucking did. Don’t you try to talk me out of it.”
“And… Sir Geto?”
He sighs, shaking his head. “I need his testimony, so I offered a deal – you can decide his fate. I’m sure you’d be a little more kind to that man than I would be.”
You go to open your mouth, when the door opens, and advisor Ijichi comes in, pushing up his monocle, smiling with relief as he sees you. “My Empress, it’s so good to see you awake.”
“Ijichi,” you rush up and hug him, making the man blush. “I heard you carried me to safety, yes?”
“Of course I did, it was no bother,” he’s a flustered mess, Satoru can’t help but laugh softly at the sight of him awkwardly patting your back. “I come bearing some news for you both.”
“I’m listening,” Satoru’s hand doesn’t leave the small of your back, the warmth seeping through your layers, your silk underlayers, your pretty dress, one that Satoru’s mom had made for you.
You couldn’t help but love the little touches of home with the added lace, the billowing sleeves. You love her so very much, she had checked on you much this morning, and you hated that she was worried like that over you – though perhaps no one went through as much as Satoru that night, from what you heard.
‘It was terrible,’ she had said, sniffling – usually a formidable woman, she was vulnerable laying next to you in the bed as you’d brushed her hair back. ‘You shouldn’t be comforting me!’
‘I put you both through a fright,’ she had sighed, snuggling up, the infamous Gojo strands much like her son’s. One would almost think her as a sister, she still looked so very young and lovely, even with reddened eyes. ‘How bad was it for him? I hope he did not…’
‘Lose it completely?’ You nodded, swallowing. ‘I thought I’d lose him and you together with how he acted.’
‘Mama Gojo, do not say that,’ your heart ached then. ‘I cannot have him hurting himself over me.’
‘I was terrified,’ she had swiped her eyes, shaking her head and exhaling. ‘I am also scared of… if you’re…’
‘We weren’t sure if I was pregnant completely, yet,’ you tried to smile, but it fell flat. ‘I will get checked soon.’
‘If anything happens to that baby, I’ll kill-’
‘Mama Gojo!’
She had been very serious.
To think of what Satoru went through while you were unconscious breaks your heart, you only know a bit, likely to not upset you further. But you feel it, how tightly he’s holding you, like he can’t stand to pull away – and you don’t want him to, you want to be locked right in his embrace for as long as you could be.
“Sir Geto would like to talk to the Empress alone,” Satoru scoffs, and you can’t help but tense up. “I told him you would not allow such a thing, but even so – if you did, I would go down with her as protection.”
“Fuck him, I should put him out to be hung,” he curses, holding you so tight you wince, making him pause. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“You’re all right, Toru,” you smile reassuringly. “I don’t think Geto would hurt me if I-”
“He almost killed you!?”
“That was Lola,” you mumble, Satoru laughs again, a psychotic sound, as if he was actively losing it, brushing a hand through his hair until it’s a mess. “I’m not saying he isn’t to blame, but there are a couple questions I need answered before you throw him out of a tower window.”
“He’ll splatter so lovely,” Satoru says, longingly – you giggle a little, shaking your head at him. “No?”
“I have some things I really need to know…” He knows what you mean, the past you had shared and just how much of that was questionable, how much did Suguru lie to you over the years?
He got the note when they confiscated everything Suguru had, but he has not brought it up to you, not yet. Not realizing how horrible he made you feel when you first got there, how lonely and hopeless – he’d read it several times just this morning as you slept, restless, tossing and turning in the bed as he sat at that desk.
He doesn’t know how to bring it up, to apologize – you surely must think he’d be furious about it, but he is not.
Of course you missed home during that time, and the perceived ‘perfection’ of Suguru and the comforts of a place you grew up in.
“Then I shall allow you to have your moments alone,” you hug him tightly, letting him brush back your hair. “Kiyo will stay close to the door.”
“You may as well, Toru… I just…”
“No, I realize there is much to be said,” he sighs now, chin resting on your head. “I’m so very exhausted.”
“As am I, I just wish we could…”
“Yes,” he grimaces now. “I also must speak to the little murderous harlot.”
“You’re going to kill her!”
“I am.”
“You must let it go to the council,” you chide, staring into narrowed blue eyes. “It’s our best chance to rid ourselves of the concubines altogether.”
“She is correct,” Ijichi chides, and Satoru looks at him over your head. “The royal advisor Jinshi has offered his advice to you, your excellence.”
“No calling me that when it’s just us,” Satoru waves his hand, Ijichi can’t stop his blush, you giggle at how cute it is.
“Master Gojo, then.”
“Call him Toru!”
“I didn’t say that familiar!?”
“Toru is cute,” you pinch his cheek, he snorts and smacks your hand off his cheek playfully. “I hear this advisor is very important, and from what I can tell, versed in politics very much. He would be good to convene with, yes?”
“Indeed,” Satoru sighs a little dramatically, though. “I never get enough time alone with my bride.”
“We shall have much time, very soon. Hmm?” You’re running your hands up his chest, his voice drops to a murmur.
“Not until you’re all better, you bratty empress.”
You pout up at him.
“You were just poisoned.”
“I know! A little bit.”
“A little!?”
“Ahem,” Ijichi reminds you both of his presence, waving his hand again at the two of you. “We have much to do, you two. I will not leave her alone for a moment, I promise you this time.”
“Oh Ijichi,” you walk over to him, taking his hand. “You did nothing wrong that night, I was in my room.”
“I still…”
“You helped save me,” you smile reassuringly, watching him relax his shoulders just a little bit at your words. You look back at your husband, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed under those gold silk robes. “We will make sure to have dinner tonight, alone, and take a bath together. Won’t we, Toru?”
“I can’t handle a bath like…” He doesn’t say it all – but you grin, as if you know he’d be tortured, unable to not have his cock buried inside of you.
It’s been weeks.
Yet you just had a terrible thing happen, and he must be careful.
“Stop being so slutty in front of Ijichi.”
“Your Excellence! Do not speak of the Empress this way!?”
“Indeed, do not!?” You stick out your tongue as you hook your arm through Ijichi’s, earning his glare. “Dinner, and then the bathhouse.”
“Go on, then,” you both walk together, but you can’t help but tense, as you look back at Satoru, turning and walking the opposite direction in the courtyard.
You never do get enough time with the man you love, and there is still so much to learn about each other, so much you must do together, speak of, work on. Yet all you want is to be in his arms, on his lap, kissing him until your head spins, and you’re dizzy, resting in the comfort you had missed so much.
When he turns a corner, his eyes catch yours, and you feel that weight in his gaze, that sad little smile, as if he’s dreading the day, too.
Yet, there is much hope for the two of you.
First, however? There was much to discuss with a couple of infiltrators.
******
The dungeons Satoru has Suguru locked up in are chilled, it’s utterly dark, every step down the spiraling stairs echoing with your heels clicking against them. Your heart is pounding, as Ijichi walks behind you, heading down first, holding his hand up for you to take with a nervous smile.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
“I am,” you assure him, but his concern lingers. “Say it, then.”
He sighs. “You’re doing too much for just having been poisoned, the state you were in was…”
“I swear I feel fine, whatever the pretty girl Maomao gave me worked wonders,” you try again to calm him, but you see his judgement even in the dark, with the little lanterns hanging on the walls. “Truly!”
“Mmm,” you both keep walking. “You are stubborn like the Emperor.”
“That stubborn?”
“Mhm,” your lips quirk up. “It’s not funny, my lady. You know you both age me beyond my years!?”
“He did that before I came, and you’re most handsome, all mature,” he blushes even in the dark, guiding you down the hall now.
“Don’t use your charms, they won’t work today.”
“They always do.”
“Hmph,” your mood sobers up a bit as you catch sight of Suguru's cell at the end of the corridor, the only one bathed in the small lighting.
“Is Lola elsewhere?” You ask softly.
“She is.” Kiyotaka says nothing else, stopping then at the bars that block Suguru’s cell, taking a key and unlocking it.
Suguru sees the action immediately, and stands as your footsteps approach – the heavy chains around his wrists and ankles rattling just a bit. His fine knightly gear is all gone, replaced by a basic white tunic, that dark hair – usually so perfect, is thrown up in a messy pony tail. Those eyes that were the last thing you saw before you fainted, have dark circles underneath them, like he hasn’t slept.
"Princess..." he begins, seeing Kiyotaka and clearing his throat, correcting himself with a ghost of a smile. "Empress, I mean.”
“Indeed…” You let Kiyotaka open the door now, stepping inside, peeking back at him. “I will be all right, Kiyo. Promise.”
“One touch on her hair,” Ijichi warns, Suguru sighs.
“I would not hurt her,” the tension is palpable when he steps back, giving you some privacy alone in the cell, when so many emotions rush through, you’re shaking, hands trembling.
“I don’t know whether to speak or smack you,” you admit, laughing without any real humor, as he frowns. “Or punch you. Or kick your dick.”
“Kick my dick?” He raises a brow, and you shove at him, tears already forming in your eyes, but he lets you. He lets you shove him, stumbling back when a big man like him never would, taking your hand on his chest to pause you. “I suppose I deserve much worse.”
“You deserve the worst, and Satoru will give you no mercy unless I ask,” you shut your eyes, feeling the tears slip from your eyes. “I should not, either.”
“I never imagined..." Suguru trails off, his voice breaking in the middle, hand hovering like he might cup your face.
Your jaw sets. "Never imagined what, Suguru? That I'd see you here? Or that you'd help try to kill me?"
He falters now, stepping back a bit as if slapped, but he doesn’t release your wrists until you yank them back, clutching your hands into fists, pulse racing so quickly you feel dizzy.
"Never that.” That dark amethyst gaze locks onto yours – so exhausted, so beyond dark, the intensity making you tense up.
“Oh, never that, hmm?”
"I started under false pretenses,” you scoff at that. “Yes, I did initially – try to be everything and anything you could love.”
The pain hits so hard you can’t breathe.
Though you were in love with Satoru – so fucking in love, it didn’t erase the years of being ‘with’ Suguru, your knight by your side, promising to be with you even as you were just a young child. The hurt knowing that you were just a part of some bigger scheme didn’t go away, and you need that closure, truly.
Even if it’s painful.
“I’d like to know about it more, just exactly your plan – would you be honest with me?” He nods, tugging out one of the old wooden chairs in the cell, where there lay parchment paper and pens.
“Please sit.”
“Fine,” you mumble, seeing your name scrawled on several crumbled sheets of paper, making your eyes burn with tears. “Will you even tell the truth?”
“I won't lie to you again.”
“How long?”
He sits across from you, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes shutting. In the darkness, he does not look as imposing as you’re used to.
He looks tired.
“I was put there when I met you, to slowly gather intel against the royal family -”
“My family!”
“Your family made how many people starve?” His words are sharp, he appears to regret them when you jerk back as if slapped. “I mean not you – the royals in general, they care not for anyone but themselves.”
“I cared, I was just… not in power. How often did I take the unfortunate food, clothing? How often did I sneak out for you to find me?”
“You’re different,” he cups your face, sighing now. “I knew you were different, even more so to try to get you to my side. You were the perfect pawn.”
A pawn.
You knew it, but it didn’t lessen the blow.
“But then..." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Then I watched you, got to really know you. Intimately.”
“Indeed,” you blush furiously, gripping your gown so tightly the fabric crumples underneath your touch. “In ways you should have never been in such falsehood.”
“My desire for you was not false,” you hate Suguru in that moment, even if he’s being truthful, the pain is bitter as it washes through you until you’re sick. “You think I didn’t want you?”
“To get some sick revenge on my parents, perhaps.” His jaw locks as you lower his hand from your face. “You should not have stolen my first kiss, touched me … you should not have.”
“I know that, I was supposed to do worse.”
“Worse!?” You practically hiss the damn word. “Worse?”
“Much worse, to you and many others,” he leans back now, shaking his head. “It was not just you that I have had to play to get intel, to try to take over.”
“I see, one of many? That’s what those kisses meant, those fucking words?”
His brows draw together, pain written on his face. “I’ll never forgive myself for it… but I did want you. None of that was pretend, how I touched you, kissed you… I fell in love with you.”
“What lies, hah,” you feel bile rise in your throat.
“Truly. I still am in love, fuck even more than before."
Tears prick at your eyes and begin to swim, until his very image is utterly blurred. "You loved me enough to let Lola poison me? To use me as a weapon in your pathetic war against royals?"
“I wanted you by my side.”
“And with Satoru, hmm?”
"I was an idiot," he whispers, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a stray tear from your cheek, you tremble with your anger. "Jealous, dumb fucking idiot.. I hated him for having you so easily, for forgetting me.”
“I did not, I kept… I kept that necklace, I kept the pin, I cared so much I did not even let myself feel anything. For what!? For a fake love.”
“It was not.”
“Then you so easily just let Lola in? You truly had no inkling she would try to harm me?”
“I don't know what I thought, but I never imagined she'd go this far. I swear it." He leans his forehead against yours, his breath against your skin, in a familiar way he should have never done with you. “I never wanted you at risk. I wanted to bring you back with me.”
“And do what to my parents, Suguru?”
He’s quiet again.
That tells you all you need to know.
“I get that royalty has its problems, I know I’m naive about the state of the world, but to use me after knowing me so long…” Your tears fall freely now. “I was worthy of some respect.”
“You were worth much more than I could ever give,” you take a breath and lean back again, hands clutching and unclutching once more, his eyes darting to the action. “You always did that when you were nervous.”
“Stop acting so familiar,” you stand now, shaking.
"Kill me now if you must… I'd die by your hand," you look at him now, feeling the emotions hitting so hard.
Even though he had done something so dangerous, so foolish…
You could not kill him.
“That would be your easy way out,” you say instead, shaking your head as he tugs you to him, taking one of your hands and putting it on his chest. A stream of memories hit, but they’re different now.
There isn’t that longing anymore, and there’s hardly any anger, no yearning for the girl that you were, and how simple things ‘were’. No, you are not that young Princess now, even though it’s been a short time, under Satoru you have grown much – you are completely different, in fact, with him.
In the best and worst ways.
You are different because of Satoru, a part of you that loved Suguru is in there somewhere, but she is in your past, left with a girl who can’t help but feel somewhat terrible for what he’s in. It’s not truly his own doing, and you understand the cause, but he had so callously and coldly not cared for you enough to even let you in on it.
“Would you have understood?” He asks now. “You, a young princess?”
“I may have if you gave me a chance,” he leans down and presses his kiss against your brow, a farewell that you allow him.
“He got that letter even though I did not give it to him,” you suck in a breath, gaze matching his. “I did not want to cause discourse, but they took it all from me.”
“He saw it…” Your eyes close. “I will speak to him.”
“He is so in love with you,” Suguru laughs, shaking his head. “I almost like that pretentious man, fuck him.”
“Well in another life, if you weren’t so terrible, maybe you’d have been friends,” you whisper, letting him press another kiss on your temple, lingering for a moment. “I shall not have you killed.”
“You should, by all means, have me killed. I already told everything about your parents, there is no-”
“I will not,” you correct, firmer this time – and Suguru sees you then.
Chin up, stubborn set to it, your hands little fists at your sides as you eye him.
You’re every bit an Empress now.
“Why?” He asks softly, watching your face and wishing he could fix it – fix everything, but he knows this kindness is already more than he deserves.
His letters that he keeps writing come out wrong, but mostly, all he can think over and over, is that you’ll be his biggest regret, yet in ways he is glad you have your emperor, that you two found love. A bittersweet taste left in his mouth as he studies you even more seriously, exhaling.
“You should have me killed for what I did, or could have done,” his eyes can’t help but flicker to your stomach. “No, I don’t want to live with what I may have done to you.”
“Well I do not know yet what has happened,” you touch your stomach, praying that the news will be good. “You don’t get the easy way out, Suguru Geto. You’ll pay back in service to the Emperor, and you’ll gladly do it.”
“You really think he’ll ever want me to?”
“Shitty service, the most dangerous situations – I’ll send you off to the ends of the bloody Earth for a flower if I want,” his lips twitched. “You’ll be in full service to the Emperor, and mean your damn vows this time. If things work out, and those girls can leave, I would be appreciative enough not to kill you.”
“He only wants you.”
You blush now. “I know.”
“As he should,” you step back, and he steps forward. “I am so, so fucking sorry I put you in danger.”
“I’m more mad you wanted to hurt my husband,” you admit. “Not me.”
“But I-”
“I cannot live in a world where he doesn't exist,” he pauses, and says nothing else, as Kiyotaka comes and unlocks the heavy iron gates, and you look back at him. “If you succeeded, you would have truly killed me.”
His hands grip the bars, head leaning against the cool metal.
He watches you walk off, going back over to his table, grabbing the pen and dipping it in the ink.
He thinks he knows the words to say, now.
*****
"Your Majesty," Jin Shi begins, his lavender hair damn near glittering as he sits in front of Emperor Gojo’s desk.
“Why is your hair so damn pretty!?”
He laughs now, shrugging a shoulder, his voice much like the Emperor’s – Satoru saw everyone fucking swooning over him. “I suppose it’s the shampoo bars I use.”
“I’ll have them imported,” Satoru grumbles, sighing then. “Forgive me, I know we are here for serious matters.”
“Indeed we are,” he smiles then. “Mao Mao tells me your Empress is still very much with child.”
“She…”
“You did not…” He trails off, frowning then, but Satoru puts his head in his hands for a moment, sighing. “I thought you knew.”
“I haven’t gotten to see my wife most of the day,” he admits. “With Lola, the council, the barrister… you. I have not had a moment.”
“I see…”
“No, no, that makes me…” Satoru grins, all dopey now. “So fucking happy.”
Jin Shi laughs softly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, Miwa comes in and damn near has her eyes pop out of their sockets, almost dropping the tea tray. “Hi there.”
“H-hello!?”
“As if you don’t see a gorgeous man daily, tch,” Satoru crosses his arms, watching Jin Shi smile at her, and he swears the girl almost falls.
What sort of effect was he having on Satoru’s subjects!?
Wasn’t he a eunuch?
“S-sorry, your excellence! I… do you require anything…”
“This is great, thank you,” she giggles and prances away, Jin Shi and Satoru sip the tea, sighing at the same time. "With the empress carrying your heir, the threat has never been more real.”
“It’s very true,” Satoru says quietly, the thoughts that life still flutters in your tummy making him ache to hold you.
Kiss you.
All over.
Fuck, imagining you in the baths later has him…
Focus.
“The council is reeling, news has even spread,” Jin Shi continues. “Lola's actions have proven that the concubines, in your case, are a threat to the empire, considering what she could have done. No matter how high ranking, she does not compete with the standing of the Empress.”
“So you think I’ll have a chance to get rid of all of them?” Satoru asks hopefully, Jin Shi nods.
“I do. The people will support it after this attempt on their Empress' life, and the council will have no choice but to agree. They will see it as necessary for stability and the safety of the royal line, though I can’t say the practice altogether would cease in your future heirs."
“I want daughters,” Satoru admits, grinning again and swirling the tea in the pretty cup around. “I want many, many little mini Empress’ running about.”
“You are so in love I’m sickened,” comes MaoMao, leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed, with you behind her. “Ew.”
“You lack romance, tch,” Jin Shi tells her, she rolls her green eyes, shaking her head and crossing her arms, walking alongside you as you both enter the office, shutting the door behind you.
Your eyes meet his, and he can feel that mix – the pain, the worry, the happiness, the love.
He feels all of it – all of you.
“Satoru,” you rush to him without thinking of the audience, and he tugs you right on his lap, kissing you deeply, the other two blushing at the sight of such blatant affection.
“My Empress,” he murmurs, inhaling your scent and burying his face against your neck. “I have no patience for formalities, I miss you too badly.”
“I miss you so badly,” you whisper back, hugging him tightly, letting him put a hand on your tummy. “I am still…”
“I heard,” his grin is huge and bright, melting you. “I am so fucking excited.”
“I am too!” Jin Shi and Mao Mao stand now, and your eyes catch theirs, seeing their smiles on their faces.
“I’ll help as much as I can while I’m here,” Jin Shi says with a bow. Mao Mao inclines her head as well.
“As will I.”
“I have no way to thank you enough for saving her,” Satoru’s hand grips your waist tightly, the emotion rushing in his voice.
“I am glad to see such love,” she says, and clearly the advisor agrees, leaving the two of you alone. It’s moments before Satoru’s kissing you, having you sitting right across his lap, fingers mapping your skin, committing it to memory.
“I fucking missed you,” he murmurs. “I hate not seeing you all day.”
“I know, soon things will calm down. I hope,” your hand sits over his, a pretty grin on your face. “A baby.”
“A baby,” he kisses down your neck, and your lashes flutter, shifting in a way that has him throbbing. “Don’t move like that, mngh…”
“C-can’t help it,” you admit, your hand entangling in his silky white locks, tugging ever so gently, he practically purrs, earning your giggle. “We have much to speak of, I believe, before we get to really enjoy ourselves.”
Satoru leans back a bit, his eyes that pretty clear blue, nodding now. “We do have much to speak of, sweetheart. But first? I’d like more kisses.”
His lips descend back on yours, stealing your breath – with much left to worry for – Lola, Suguru, the council, a healthy pregnancy – the most important thing was right here. Being in Satoru’s arms, and enjoying every little kiss, before more serious talks had to occur, before you got to just enjoy your husband in the baths, enjoy him all to yourself soon.
Yet for now, this kiss steals every thought in both your minds.
Okaaaaay but Royal!Price who’s married to Reader for like two years and the entire time the court is breathing down your neck because you haven’t produced an heir yet.
And ofc somehow this becomes entirely your fault bc nobody questions Price or considers that the problem might not be you because he’s the king, he’s healthy, he’s strong, he’s already proven himself in every other way that matters to these people, so obviously it must be his wife who’s defective.
And you spend two years being poked and prodded by royal physicians and forced to drink disgusting tonic things and tracking your cycles and praying at shrines and enduring every older noblewoman at court giving you unsolicited advice while rumors about the “barren Queen” spread through the palace.
And Price doesn’t exactly stop them. Maybe in the beginning he tells you not to listen, tells you there’s still time, but as the months pass he starts treating your inability to conceive like a personal failure.
And ofc there’s this one woman at court who makes your life like absolute hell over it. Daughter of some powerful duke or neighboring kingdom or whatever, beautiful and fertile looking and exactly the sort of woman everyone whispers Price should have married in the first place.
She makes little comment about children whenever you’re nearby, brings babies into conversation just to watch you go quiet, maybe even starts getting increasingly bold because Price is starting to favor her. And you know they’re sleeping together long before he admits it. You just don’t have any power to do anything about it.
Then Price divorces you.
And he’s not quietly about it either and that’s the part that really destroys you because he could’ve found a dozen political reasons to dissolve the marriage, could’ve protected whatever dignity you had left and let you save face but instead he specifically cites your failure to provide an heir as the reason for the divorce. Has it entered into the official decree that the marriage produced no issue and that you’re presumed barren, basically stamping it into history that you failed in the single duty expected of a queen.
And to add insult to injury he marries the woman who spent the last two years tormenting you, who becomes Queen, and suddenly all those rumors about how she’d always been better suited for him become accepted fact.
Meanwhile you’re just… there. The discarded Queen. Technically still noble, technically still wealthy enough, but socially ruined because who is going to marry the woman the King publicly declared barren?
Except Simon, Price’s knight who’s his own kind of social outcast cause he’s scarred, disfigured, and everyone assumes will never marry anyway because nobody has ever exactly been lining up to become Lady Riley to a monster, you know.
So when Simon asks for your hand, you say yes. Maybe Price even allows it because he thinks there’s something almost amusing about it. His unwanted wife and his disfigured knight. Two things the court has decided are damaged being tucked neatly away together.
Except Simon doesn’t treat you like you’re damaged. And then the absolute fucking scandal when, before the end of the year, you start appearing in court with a very obviously rounding stomach.
At first everyone tries to pretend they don’t notice because surely not. Surely the former Queen who spent two years unable to conceive isn’t pregnant within months of marrying Ser Simon Riley.
Except you are and it isn’t even ambiguous after a while. You’re glowing with health, Simon is hovering around you like some enormous armored guard dog, the physicians confirm the pregnancy is progressing perfectly, and suddenly all those old whispers start changing direction because Price’s new Queen still isn’t pregnant even after and entire year.
Meanwhile you give birth to this enormous fat healthy Riley baby and suddenly the court has to reckon with the fact that maybe their discarded barren Queen was never barren at all.
Which means maybe the King publicly humiliated and divorced his wife, destroyed her reputation, married his mistress, and announced to the entire kingdom that she was incapable of giving him an heir-
when the problem had been him the entire fucking time.
tags: enemies to lovers, royalty au, arranged marriage, childhood acquaintances to lovers, forced proximity, smut, angst with happy ending, virginity, possessive jungkook, shared bed, first time.
tropes: "we grew up together but we hate each other", "only one bed", "marriage of convenience", "i lied to protect you", wedding night protocol, "you are mine by contract and by blood".
warnings: 18+, explicit smut, virgin!reader, deflowering / loss of virginity, blood (from deflowering), finger fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex (f. receiving), heavy praise kink, body worship, stretching, deep penetration, size difference, slow and deliberate pace, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, internal ejaculation / creampie, marking, bed creaking, rubbing, wet sounds, overstimulation, post-orgasm aftercare, dominant but gentle jungkook, submissive reader, mutual pining, contract marriage consummation.
word count: 11.6k
summary: Jungkook is the stoic and ruthless heir to the powerful Jeon Kingdom, and you are the princess of a realm forced into an alliance to secure borders. Bound by a political contract designed to prevent further blood, you are forced into a marriage with the boy you once loved in the gardens—and the man you’ve spent the last five years hating with every fiber of your being after an unforgivable betrayal.
As the court demands proof of your union and the crown weighs heavy on your brows, you must navigate a single night behind locked doors where the armor of your pride completely disappears. You thought you were just a duty to him, but as the masks fall in the wedding chamber, you'll soon discover that Jungkook has been playing a much longer game to keep you safe... and he has no intention of letting his queen go.
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The rattle of the carriage was a rhythmic torture that stuck at the base of your skull. Every bump on the road to the capital of the Jeon Kingdom reminded you that, with each meter advanced, your freedom was a little further behind, blurred on the horizon by the borders of your own home.
You wore the heaviest traveling dress your maids could find, armor of dark blue velvet and lace that protected you, at least symbolically, from the outside world. Your fingers, gloved, sank into the upholstery of the seat. You hadn't looked at Jungkook in the last three hours. You knew exactly what he was doing without having to see him: he would be leaning against the opposite backrest, with one leg crossed over the other, looking at the map of his new lands, or, worse, watching you with that silent smugness that had always driven you crazy.
"You can stop smashing the seat, Y/N," his voice cut through the air, deep and charged with an indifference you knew was feigned. "The silk of this carriage costs more than the dowry that your father bargained for until the last minute. You don't want to start your life here by owing repairs."
You tensed up. There it was. The same tone of superiority that he used when you were ten years old and he managed to knock you off the wooden horse. You forced yourself to let go of the upholstery and crossed your hands on your lap, turning your head to fix an icy gaze on him.
"If you think my dowry is scarce, you could have left me at the border," you replied with venom. " I'm sure we would both have been much happier. But of course, the Crown Prince always gets what he wants, even if what he gets is a wife who can't even stand the air you breathe."
Jungkook let out a dry laugh, a sound without a trace of humor. He slammed the map shut and leaned forward, invading your personal space. He smelled of leather, old paper and that aroma of cedar wood that always identified him.
"Make no mistake. I didn't "want" this. I wanted a secure border and an end to the skirmishes in the north. You are only the wax seal on the contract, Y/N. Nothing else."
Those words should have hurt, but they only fueled the fire of your contempt. The wedding had been an obscene display of wealth: white flowers that smelled of death, songs that sounded like elegy, and that moment in the cathedral where, in front of the archbishop, you had to put your hand on his. You felt his pulse, firm and steady, while yours galloped wildly. At that moment, as the village cheered a union you hated, you realized that Jungkook was no longer the kid you used to hide with in kitchens to steal cakes. He was a stranger made of stone and duty.
The carriage finally stopped. The sound of trumpets announced their arrival at the Jeon Grand Castle. The doors opened and royal protocol took over. You were forced to accept his hand to come down. His fingers squeezed yours with unnecessary firmness, a silent warning before you both had to pretend to court.
The reception was eternal. Bows, empty speeches and the scrutinizing gaze of your father-in-law, the King, who analyzed you as if you were a purebred horse that should give good heirs. During the entire welcome dinner, you barely had a bite. Jungkook, sitting next to you on your rightful throne, fulfilled his role perfectly: he poured you wine, commented on trifles about the weather, and occasionally brushed your hand with his just to let the nobles see how "lucky" they were. Every touch burned you with rage.
Finally, the ordeal ended. The official "Wedding Night", the one that everyone was waiting for with morbid curiosity, had arrived.
You were escorted to the royal apartments by your ladies. It was a huge room, lit only by the fire in the fireplace. And there, in the center, the bed. A monster of carved wood and linen sheets that seemed to mock you.
The door opened and Jungkook walked in. He looked tired, but his eyes shone with an intensity you hadn't seen all day. He locked the door and the sound of the bolt snapping in was like a shot in the silence.
You stood motionless in the center of the room, your feet sunk into the thick crimson carpet. Your shoulders were heavy; The wire structure and jewels of your wedding dress made you feel like a puppet that had its threads cut. You didn't dare turn around. You didn't want to see Jungkook, you didn't want to confirm that the boy who once challenged you to a race for the stables was the same man who now shared your breath in the gloom of a royal bedroom.
"Are you going to stay there all night, Y/N?" His voice came from behind, loaded with a tiredness that seemed to come from years, not hours. "The dinner ended an hour ago. Protocol is dead for today. You can stop pretending that you are a marble statue. "
You closed your eyes tightly. That tone. That quiet arrogance that always made you want to scream. You turned around slowly. Jungkook was taking off his white dress gloves, throwing them on a velvet chair with a blood-boiling nonchalance. His hair was slightly tousled and the first buttons of his jacket were unbuttoned.
"I'm not pretending," you said, and your voice sounded more broken than you would have liked. "I'm trying to assimilate how we ended up here. You and me. It's a joke in bad taste, Jungkook. "
He let out a dry laugh, without a trace of joy, as he approached the table where a glass jug of wine rested. A drink was poured, the sound of liquid falling down was the only thing that filled the void between you.
"A joke?" "No, it's politics," he replied, turning his back on you. "This is what we were told would happen since we were ten years old and we were forced to hold hands in the garden. "Someday, Jungkook, she will be your queen. Someday, Y/N, he will be your lord." You knew it. Don't pretend to be surprised now that the bill has arrived to be collected. "
"I knew it would happen, but I didn't think you'd be so..." You fell silent, looking for the word.
"So what?" He turned, glass in hand, fixing his dark eyes on yours. " So cold? So distant? What did you expect, Y/N? That after five years without speaking to each other, since that last argument in the lake, I received you with open arms and promises of eternal love? We know each other too well to lie to each other like that."
You walked to the dresser, needing something to do with your hands so they wouldn't shake. You began to unhook the heavy veil of your hairstyle, but your fingers, numb with nerves, became entangled in the silver hairpins. You grunted in frustration, tugging at your own hair.
Suddenly, you felt his presence. Jungkook had moved with that quiet speed he had always had. His hands were positioned over yours, stopping you. The contact was electric, a heat shock that made you hold your breath. It's been years since you've had it so close.
"You're going to pull your hair out," he whispered. His breath brushed the back of your neck, sending a violent shiver down your spine. Leave me.
"I can do it alone," you insisted, trying to push you away, but he gently squeezed your wrists.
"No, you can't. This hairstyle requires three maidens and you are alone with me. Stay put. It's an order, if that is of any use to you now. "
You stiffened as his long, skillful fingers began to work on your hair. You could see it in the reflection in the mirror: the Crown Prince, the warrior everyone was talking about, focused on removing diamond hairpins with a delicacy that didn't match the tension emanating from his body. Your eyes met on the glass, and for a second, the hatred dissipated to give way to raw melancholy.
"I remember when you fell off the cherry tree," he said suddenly, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled out the last piece of silver. "You had flowers in your hair and you were crying because you had torn your favorite dress. I helped you remove them all before your mother saw you. "
"And then you told me I was a fool for climbing so high," you remembered, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "You always had to have the last word, Jungkook. You always had to be the one who knew the most. "
"And you always had to be the one who didn't listen," he replied.
The veil finally fell to the ground, like dead skin. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders, and Jungkook didn't immediately withdraw his hands. His fingers brushed the skin of your neck, a minimal, almost accidental contact, but one that weighed tons.
"We're not those kids anymore, Y/N," he said, and his voice changed, deeper, more dangerous. "Outside this room, we are two strangers who must rule. But inside—" His hands went down to your shoulders, squeezing them with a firmness that forced you to stare at him in the mirror—... "Inside we are two people bound by a contract that demands blood and heirs. "
He let go of you abruptly, as if you were burning, and returned to his glass of wine. The silence fell again, denser than before. You sat on the dresser bench, feeling exhausted.
"Why didn't you look at me during the ceremony?" You asked, breaking your calm. Not once. "You made me feel like you were marrying a piece of furniture from the cathedral. "
Jungkook drank the rest of his wine in one gulp and put the glass down on the table with a thud. He turned to you, and this time, the mask of indifference had cracked. There was fire in his eyes, a mixture of rage and something that looked like pent-up hunger.
"Because if I looked at you, Y/N, it would have reminded me why I hated this arrangement so much," he blurted out, beginning to walk toward you with slow, heavy steps. "If I looked at you, I would see the woman who despises me and remember that I am going to spend the rest of my days tied to someone who would rather be anywhere else in the world. Do you think it's easy for me? Do you think I like knowing that the only reason you're in my bed tonight is because a piece of paper says so? "
He stopped in front of you, forcing you to lift your head to hold his gaze.
"I know there are guards at the door," you continued, ignoring the lump in your throat. "I know the bridesmaids will come at dawn. I know what has to be in those sheets, Jungkook. I'm not naïve. I have grown in this court as much as you have. "
"Then stop looking at me like I'm the executioner," he snapped, leaning over you, resting his hands on the dressing table on either side of your body, locking you in.
The space between you shrank until there was only a sigh away. You could smell the red wine and the metallic aroma of its armor. The hatred was there, palpable, but beneath it, an electric current of mutual recognition was beginning to boil. They knew each other too well; You knew the twitch in his jaw when he was nervous, and he knew the way your pulse quickened at the base of your throat when you were afraid.
"It's five hours before dawn," Jungkook whispered, and his gaze dropped to your lips before returning to your eyes. "We can spend them yelling at each other or remembering how much we hate each other... Or we can accept that, for one night, duty is the only thing we have left. "
He brought a hand behind your back, looking for the start of the endless row of buttons on your dress. His fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your neck and you closed your eyes, letting out a gasp you couldn't contain.
"This is not love, Jungkook," you warned, although your hands, of their own volition, rose to rest on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart under the silk of his shirt.
"I know," he replied, and for the first time all night, his voice sounded almost human, almost vulnerable. "It's just the truth. And the truth is, even if we hate each other, tonight there is no one else in the world for us but the other. "
He began to undo the first button, very slowly, as if he wanted every second of that humiliation—or that surrender—to last forever.
You felt the first tug on your back, a dry movement as Jungkook's fingers struggled against the first mother-of-pearl button. The silence in the room was so absolute that you could swear you heard the pendulum clock mechanism in the hallway, marking every second of your fall.
"Your father was always an exaggerated man," he growled. His voice was so close to your ear that you felt the warm air moisten your skin. "Fifty buttons for a dress that only serves to be torn. It's a perfect metaphor for your kingdom, Y/N: a flawless façade to hide a crumbling structure. "
You tensed at the insult to your home, turning your head slightly to try to look over your shoulder, but he clenched his free hand on your waist to keep you in place.
"Don't talk about my father as if you knew him," you snapped, feeling contempt rise up your throat. "He did what he had to do to save his people from your ambition. If we're here, it's because the Jeons don't know what the word "border" means. You only understand "conquest". "
Jungkook let out a snort, and you heard the click of the fifth button giving way. His fingers brushed the skin of your upper back, and a shiver you couldn't control ran through you. It was a contradictory feeling: his hands were rough, callused from years of wielding the sword, but they moved with surgical precision over your spine.
"Conquest?" he repeated bitterly. My father wanted this marriage since you were born. "I remember that he took me to his office when I was seven years old. He showed me a portrait of you and said, "That girl is half of your future kingdom. Learn how to handle it or she'll handle you." I spent my entire childhood seeing you not as a friend, but as a chess piece that I had to learn to move. "
"And did you succeed?" You asked, a trace of poison in your voice. "Do you feel like you're "managing" me now, Jungkook? While you take off this dress like you're my maid? "
You felt his fingers stop halfway down your back. The pressure of his hand on your waist increased, burying itself a little in the thin fabric of the corset you were wearing underneath. In the mirror, you saw how his jaw tensed and his eyes darkened.
"I feel like we're both dogs in chains, told to bite to amuse the court," he replied, his voice becoming dangerously low. "Don't be fooled, Y/N. My father gave me this castle and this crown, but in exchange he took away my ability to choose who I want in my bed. Do you think it's an honor for me to have to convince a woman who looks at me with disgust to give me an heir? "
He continued with his task. The dress began to sag, slowly opening up and exposing your spine line. The cold air in the room hit your bare skin, making you shiver. Jungkook paused for a second, his eyes sweeping over the expanse of your back with an intensity that made you feel more naked than you really were.
"I remember," he began, and this time his tone was different, less aggressive, almost nostalgic. "the summer of fourteen. When we escape to the river and your brother almost drowns trying to follow us. You stayed in your underwear to jump into the water to get it out. You were so reckless. So full of life. "
"And you scolded me for an hour as we drove back to the castle," you added, letting out an involuntary sigh. "You said that a princess should not show herself like this to anyone. Not even before you. "
"I said it because I didn't want anyone else to see you," he confessed, and the honesty of his words struck you like a slap. "Even then you drove me crazy, Y/N. With your pride and your mania for defying every rule. I knew that one day you would be mine and the thought that others might have seen what belonged to me by contract burned me inside."
You turned sharply, even though the dress wasn't quite unbuttoned yet, forcing him to let go. The fabric fell over your shoulders, revealing the start of your white silk corset. You looked him in the eye, looking for the boy you knew, but you only found the man who bullied you.
"I don't belong to you, Jungkook," you said firmly, although your voice trembled. "This contract says that we will share a kingdom and a bed, but my mind and my will are still mine. Don't try to convince me that this is something you wanted for "us." You wanted it for power.
Jungkook took a step towards you, invading your space, forcing you to back away until your thighs collided with the edge of the dresser bench. He leaned over you, resting one hand on either side of your hips.
"Power?" He whispered, his face so close you could count his eyelashes. "I have had power since I was born. What I don't have is peace. And you... You are the only person in this world who dares to look me in the eye and tell me that I am worthless. Do you have any idea what that does to a man like me?"
His eyes went down to your mouth and then to the neckline of your corset, where your chest rose and fell agitatedly. The sexual tension in the room became almost physical, a pressure on your chest that made it difficult for you to breathe.
"I have to finish with these buttons," he said, his voice now a hoarse murmur, laden with a need he was trying to hide under duty. " And then, Y/N, we're going to have to decide whether we spend tonight as enemies destroying each other or as two people who, despite everything, know each other better than anyone else on this earth. "
He brought his hand to your shoulder, slowly pulling the drooping sleeve of your dress aside, his skin brushing against yours in a contact that lasted longer than necessary.
You fell silent, gasping for breath, as Jungkook's words floated through the dense air of the room. Your mask of coldness, the one you had built so carefully over the past five years, began to crack. You looked him in the eye, and for an instant, you didn't see the arrogant heir who had just insulted your kingdom, but the boy who used to climb up your balcony just to show you a bird's nest he'd found.
All that rage, that sharp edge with which you responded to him, was nothing more than armor. Because the truth, the one that burned your chest more than the corset, was that you loved it. You'd loved him since you were six years old, and he gave you his first wooden soldier. But then, that winter came. That night at the winter ball where you heard him talking to his father, the King, and something inside you broke.
"You don't have to go on with this, Jungkook," you whispered suddenly. Your voice was no longer poisonous, only a deep fatigue. " You don't have to pretend you care about my pride. I know what you think of me. I heard you, you know? Five years ago, in the library in the west wing. "
Jungkook froze. His hands, which were directed at the loops of your corset, stopped in midair. His eyes widened a little wider, reflecting the light from the embers.
"You heard—what?" His voice dropped an octave, becoming a hoarse murmur.
"You told your father that I was just a 'necessary obligation,'" you said, and you felt the lump in your throat close. " That you had no feelings for the girl you had grown up with and that you would marry me just to secure the northern border. I spent my entire adolescence hoping that this "contract" would be something more for you... And that night I understood that I was the only stupid one who was in love. "
You looked down, unable to continue to hold his eyes up. The silence that followed was suffocating. You expected him to laugh, confirm his words, or just walk away nonchalantly. But he did nothing of the sort.
You felt his fingers, warm and trembling, brush against your chin to force you to lift your head. When your eyes met his again, you saw no mockery. You saw a raw pain, a desperation that he had never allowed himself to show before.
"Y/N..." He let out a long sigh, almost a wail. "You're a fool. You really are. "
"Now you insult me?" You tried to regain your borderline tone, but your voice broke.
"I told you because you were pressuring me to send you away," he confessed, getting so close that his forehead brushed against yours. "He was telling me that you were a distraction, that my feelings for you made me weak, and that if I couldn't prove that I saw you as a political object, I would marry you off to a duke of the southern lands to get you out of my way. I had to lie. I had to say the cruelest thing I could think of to get him to leave you alone, to allow you to stay close to me, even if it was as an "obligation". "
You froze. Years of accumulated hatred, silent weeping nights, and curt answers in the halls of the courtroom began to falter.
"Why didn't you tell me?" You called out in a whisper, tapping weakly on his chest with your hands. "You made me hate you, Jungkook. You made me hate every memory I had of us."
"Because if I told you, you couldn't have pretended," he replied, catching your hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles with a devotion that took your breath away. "My father is an expert at reading people. I needed you to hate me so that he would believe that I had no power over you. But look at me, Y/N... really look at me. "
He forced you to let go of your hands and put his hands in the loops of your corset, but this time there was no aggression. His fingers moved with a torturous slowness, undoing the first knot in front of you. You were face to face, so close that you could feel the gallop of his heart crashing against yours.
"I've spent five years watching you walk away, watching you throw daggers at me with your eyes while I was dying to apologize to you," he continued, undoing the second lasso. "The pressure of the corset on your lungs began to ease, allowing you to breathe for the first time all night. Do you think I like this contract? I hate him. Because you deserved to be courted, you deserved to be brought you flowers and to write you ridiculous verses like the ones I read to you when we were children. You didn't deserve to be handed over as a war trophy. "
The corset loosened enough that he could tuck his hands under the silk, caressing the skin of your ribs. The contact made you let out a gasp that this time was not from fear, but from a need that you had repressed for too long.
"Jungkook..." His name came out of your lips like a plea.
"Don't hate me tonight, Y/N," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please. I know that the world wants us to be kings, to be enemies or political allies... But here, behind this lock, I just want to be the guy who loved you before it all got so complicated."
Your hands, which had once been clenched into fists, relaxed and climbed up his shoulders until they became entangled in his dark hair. You pulled it gently, forcing it to shorten the last millimeter that separated them.
"I've been so lonely," you confessed against his lips, finally dropping all your defenses.
"Not anymore," he said before capturing your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one in the cathedral.
This kiss tasted like years of silence, shared secrets and a desperate urgency. There was no protocol, there were no princes or crowns. There were just the two of you, rediscovering yourselves under the candlelight as the corset finished falling to the floor, letting the vulnerability of both of you meet in the gloom of the room.
The kiss dragged on, not with the urgency of a stranger, but with the painful familiarity of someone who recovers something he thought was lost forever. You felt your fingers sink into the hair on the back of Jungkook's neck, tugging at it with a mixture of relief and reproach. The taste of his mouth, mixed with the trail of red wine, transported you back to the summers when they shared fruit stolen from the royal orchard, before the crowns weighed so heavily on their temples.
When they finally separated, their fronts were united. You were both gasping, the air between you charged with an electricity that was no longer just hate, but a spark of hope that you were afraid to acknowledge.
"I'm afraid to believe you," you whispered, your eyes fixed on his, which shone with an almost feverish intensity. "I've spent five years hating you to survive, Jungkook. If this is another of your political strategies, I swear I won't stand it. "
He didn't respond with words right away. Instead, he lowered her hands to the end loops of your corset, which was now only hanging from your hips. His fingers, expert and slow, undid the last knot. You felt the weight of the garment fall at your feet, leaving your body covered only by the very fine white silk camisole, almost translucent under the candlelight.
You felt exposed, not only physically, but emotionally. You had run out of armor.
"Look at me, Y/N," he asked you, his voice a silk thread. "There are no ministers here. There are no spies behind the curtains. There's just the boy who taught you to ride and the girl who swore to me that one day we'd be the greatest kings in history. "
He took a step back, but only to take off his own military coat. He threw it to the ground without looking at her, a gesture of contempt for the uniform that represented his duty. Then, he put his hands to the buttons of his white shirt. His eyes didn't leave yours for a second, as if he feared that if he blinked, you'd put back on that mask of indifference that had tormented him so much.
"Help me," he said, stopping his hands halfway across his chest. "If we're going to do this, if we're going to be one tonight, I want you to claim what's yours too."
Your hands were shaking when you raised them. Your fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, feeling the scorching heat emanating from his skin. You began to undo the buttons, one by one, with a torturous slowness. With each button you released, you discovered more about him: the curve of his shoulders, the firmness of his chest, the scars you didn't know about—records of training and battles he'd earned while you were away, hating him.
"This scar..." you whispered, brushing your fingertip against a pale mark near his shoulder. "It wasn't there before. "
"It was two years ago," he answered, closing his eyes to your touch. "An ambush in the north. I was just thinking that if I died there, I would never have a chance to tell you the truth. That I would die being your enemy and that hurt me more than steel in the flesh. "
You finished with the last button and opened his shirt, letting it fall off his shoulders. Jungkook looked imposing in the gloom; The light from the fireplace cast shadows on his defined muscles and tanned skin. He was a man now, a potential king, but when he looked at you, you saw the same Jungkook who stayed awake with you when you had nightmares.
He shortened the distance again, wrapping his bare arms around your waist. The contact of his skin against the silk of your nightgown, and yours underneath, made you let out a trembling sigh. He glued you to his body, forcing you to feel the strength of his muscles and the unbridled beating of his heart.
"Outside, the world awaits a perfect queen and a ruthless king," he whispered against your neck, his nose brushing your skin, inhaling your scent of roses and jasmine. "They hope that our union will be a formality to sign maps. But in here... here I want you to be just Y/N. My Y/N. The one who insults me, the one who challenges me and the one who, in spite of everything, loves me as much as I love her. "
He brought his hands to the straps of your nightgown, pulling them down with a delicacy that made you tear. The silk slid down your body, falling in a soft whisper on the carpet. Now there was nothing left to hide. In front of him, stripped of all clothes and of your last defenses, you gave yourself completely; There were no more secrets or lies between the two. Only the raw and beautiful reality of your body exposed before his gaze, and the certainty of two souls who had searched for each other for half a decade.
You hugged him, burying your face in his chest, feeling the scent of sandalwood and man that was so intoxicating to you. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from the cold and loneliness you had felt for so long.
"Five years, Jungkook," you muttered against his skin, your hands caressing his back. "Five lost years."
"We have the rest of our lives to get them back," he assured you, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. "But tonight is just for us. There is no crown that weighs more than this desire."
He walked to the large four-poster bed. The linen sheets were cold, but the heat they both gave off was enough to set the room on fire. He left you on the mattress with infinite softness, as if you were made of glass, before positioning himself on you, resting his weight on his forearms so as not to crush you.
"I love you, Y/N," he said, and it was the first time you heard those words in a man's voice. "I have loved you in every letter I didn't send, in every toast I made in your honor when you were away, and in every battle I won just to make this kingdom worthy of you."
Your eyes misted up, and for the first time in years, you smiled for real. A smile that was just for him.
"Then show me," you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him toward you. "Prove me that the contract is wrong and that you don't own me... but my other half."
Jungkook lowered his head and kissed you, with a devout tenderness that made you understand that, even if the sun came out in a few hours and you had to face the court, in that bed you had already won the most important battle of your life.
Jungkook didn't rush. He stood on his elbows, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like he was reading your soul, not just looking at your body. His eyes swept over every inch of your skin with a reverence you'd never seen in him.
"You're shaking," he whispered, and his hand reached down to intertwine his fingers with yours, pressing them against the mattress.
"It's not because of the cold," you admitted in a thin voice.
It was the truth. It was the adrenaline, the relief, and the weight of five years of loneliness crumbling all at once. Jungkook let go of one of your hands and began to draw invisible lines on your belly, slowly rising towards your ribs. His fingers were warm and a little rough, and every place he touched seemed to light up in his wake.
"I spent so many nights imagining this," he confessed, lowering his head to kiss the crook of your shoulder. "In the northern campaigns, when the cold was so intense that my bones hurt, I would close my eyes and try to remember the sound of your laughter or the way you frowned when I beat you at chess. It was the only thing that kept me sane. "
You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips against your skin. Your hand went up his arm, marveling at the firmness of his muscles. He was no longer the skinny boy you used to run with; He was a solid man, forged by duty and war.
"I thought you had forgotten me," you said, your voice charged with an honesty you would have been ashamed to show before. "At every dance, at every official dinner, you looked at me as if I were a stranger. I convinced myself that you had erased everything we were."
Jungkook stopped and looked up to meet yours. There was a deep sadness in his dark eyes.
"Never," he said. "Every time I ignored you, it was a battle with myself not to cross the room, hold your hand, and get you out of there. I had to learn to be an outsider to protect you from my own feelings. My father... He knew you were my weak point. If he found out that I still loved you like this, he would have used you as a bargaining chip much sooner. "
He came down again, this time looking for your neck. His kisses were slow, almost lazy, as if he wanted to memorize the taste of your skin. You felt his warm breath against your ear as his hands continued to explore your figure, recognizing the curves that time and maturity had molded in you.
"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he murmured against your skin, and the tone of his voice, so filled with genuine admiration, made you feel a lump in your throat.
You forced yourself to move, seeking to be closer to him. You entangled your legs with his, feeling the rubbing of his hairy, firm skin against yours, soft and delicate. The touch caused you to gasp, and your body, which had been tense all day, finally began to relax, asking for more.
"Jungkook..." you whispered, arching your back as his hand circled one of your breasts, caressing the nipple with his thumb with a delicacy that made you burn. "I don't want to talk about the past anymore. I don't want to think about the sunrise or the sheets. I just want you to be here. With me. "
He pulled away enough to look at you, a small, painful smile pouring across his lips.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
He brought his hand to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb before tilting his face to kiss you again. This kiss was different; It was deeper, more needy, as if he was trying to seal a promise that neither of them dared to say out loud. Their tongues met, dancing in a rhythm they had always known but now felt new, charged with a passion that no longer had to be hidden.
You felt the emotional tension slowly transform into a much more powerful physical need. Your hands went down his back, running down Jungkook's spine until they reached his hips, urging him to stick closer to you. He responded with a low growl, pressing his erection against your thigh, and the discharge of desire that ran through your belly took your breath away.
"I've missed you so much," you confessed between kisses, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders.
"And I to you, my queen," he answered, his voice growing hoarser. "My only queen. "
Jungkook started to go down again, but this time his kisses didn't stay on your neck. They followed the path of his caress, down your chest, stopping at every inch as if he were worshipping a temple. The slowness with which he did it was a delicious torture; It made you wish that he would hurry up, but at the same time, you wanted that moment of mutual discovery to last forever.
Jungkook moved away just a few centimeters, just enough for you to see the glow of adoration in his eyes, but not enough for you to stop feeling his warmth. His hand, firm and warm, went down your belly, leaving a trail of small spasms in its wake, until it stopped just above the junction of your thighs, where fine hair and sensitive skin made you feel more vulnerable than ever.
"Are you sure?" he whispered. His voice was a hoarse caress, charged with a restraint that made the muscles in his arms tense. "Once we cross this line, Y/N, there will be no turning back. Not only will you be my wife before the law, but... You will have entrusted me with the most sacred thing you have. "
You swallowed, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs. You looked at him, seeing the man who had spent years hiding his love under an iron mask just to keep you safe. You were no longer afraid of the contract, you were afraid of the intensity of how you felt about it.
"I'm sure, Jungkook," you replied, your voice steady despite the nerves. "I want it to be you."
He let out a long sigh, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and leaned over to leave a chaste kiss on your forehead. Then, with a slowness that made you want to scream in anticipation, it began to come down your body. It didn't position itself between your legs right away; Instead, he dedicated herself to worshipping every corner of your skin with his lips and tongue.
He kissed your ribs, stopping to listen to your frantic heartbeat. He went down to your navel, tracing circles with the wet tip of his tongue that made your toes shrink and your belly contract. Jungkook moved with the patience of a craftsman, as if he was discovering a treasure that had been buried for centuries.
"You're perfect," he murmured against your skin, his warm breath sending electric shocks straight into your pelvis. "All this time, imagining what you would be like... And reality takes my breath away. "
His hands went down to spread your legs apart with extreme delicacy. You felt yourself dying of shame for a second, the diffused light of the candles bathing your intimacy completely exposed before his expert eyes, but he didn't give you time to hide. Jungkook knelt between your thighs and rested his large hands on the inside of your knees, keeping them wide open.
His gaze swept over your femininity with an almost religious reverence. There was no vulgar lust in his expression, but a pure, hungry fascination with the center of your crotch, which was already beginning to glow subtly.
"Jungkook..." you gasped, covering your eyes with your arm, feeling the heat rise up your cheeks at the intensity of his scrutiny.
"Look at me, Y/N," he asked you, his voice vibrating with a soft but undeniable command. You slowly pulled your arm away and looked at him; He was there, the future king of an empire, kneeling before you as if you were his only deity. "Don't hide from me. There is nothing in you that is not worthy of worship."
He brought his hand to you, and you felt the first direct contact. His long fingers brushed your with the softness of a petal, barely a touch, but it was enough to make you let out a high-pitched moan that echoed throughout the room. It was the first time someone touched you like that, the first time you felt that pang of pleasure so clear, electric and overwhelming.
"Shh, don't worry," he whispered, watching your reaction intently as his eyes darkened. "Just feel."
He began to move his fingertips in slow circles, discovering your sensitivity, learning the exact rhythm that made your breath choppy. I was in no hurry to penetrate you; He seemed to enjoy endlessly watching your eyes glaze over and your hips rise unconsciously seeking more of his touch. His fingers slid down, finding the thick moisture that was already beginning to gush out of your canal, and he let out a low growl, a hoarse sound of pure satisfaction.
"You're so ready for me..." he muttered, and before you could process his words, he lowered his head completely.
The first contact of his hot, moist tongue against your center was like a burst of white light behind your eyelids. You shouted his name, sinking your hands in despair into the linen sheets, as he gave himself to the task of worshipping you with his mouth. Jungkook was not careless; He used his tongue with a precision that made you lose your sense of reality. It alternated long, firm licks from bottom to top with soft suctions directly at your most sensitive point, crushing your button and bringing you to an edge you didn't know existed.
You felt the rubbing of his nose against your pubis, the suffocating heat of his breath and the obscene wetness of his mouth consuming you completely. It was an absolute sensory discovery. Every time you tried to close your legs, overwhelmed by the intensity of the stimulus, his firm hands on the inside of your thighs reminded you that he was in charge and that he wasn't done with you.
"Jungkook, please... I don't know what this is..." You cried, your head moving back and forth on the pillow, losing control of your own body.
He paused for a second, only to look down at you, his lips shining with your own wetness and his eyes completely darkened with desire.
"It's the pleasure that belongs to you, Y/N," he said in a thick voice that seemed to come from the depths of his chest. "And only I am going to give it to you. Always me."
He went down again, this time deeper, exploring with his fingers the entrance to your canal while his tongue continued to work relentlessly on your clitoris. He inserted a finger, very slowly, feeling the natural resistance of your virginity. You immediately tensed up under the new pressure, but he stopped, kissing your inner thighs parsimonously to relax before continuing. He was preparing you, widening you with infinite patience, lubricating you with his own fingers, making sure that when the time came for real union, you would only feel love and not pain.
The sensation of his fingers moving inside you, in unison with the wet strokes of his tongue, pushed you to the absolute limit. You felt a growing pressure in your belly, an addictive tension that was crying out to be released. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, his fingers moving more firmly and deeply, mimicking what would soon be his own penetration.
"Jungkook! You exclaimed in a broken cry, and suddenly the world exploded.
Your body arched violently upward as the first orgasm of your life shook you from head to toe in uncontrollable spasms. It was such a powerful release that you felt your lungs forgetting to breathe, your vaginal walls squeezing hard. Jungkook stood there, holding your thighs, receiving every contraction of your body directly against his face and fingers, drinking from your flow as if it were the most precious elixir of his kingdom.
When the tremors finally stopped and you collapsed against the mattress, exhausted and with your heart pounding, Jungkook immediately climbed up to cover you with his body. He kissed you with demented tenderness, savoring you on your own lips, mixing his juices, while his hands caressed your tousled hair.
"We're not done yet, my queen," he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his erection, huge, hard, throbbing, pressing hard against your thigh. " This has been just for you. Now... Now I want you to know what it means to be one flesh. "
You stood there, sunk in the silk mattress, your lungs burning from the effort to catch your breath after that burst of pleasure you never imagined possible. Your body felt light, almost ethereal, but at the same time strangely aware of every inch of skin. Jungkook slowly squeezed in, coming out from between your legs, and you saw him stand next to the bed.
The light of the candles, which were already beginning to burn out, bathed his figure in a golden halo. You watched him in silence, with half-open eyes, as he brought his hands to the zippers of his ball pants. The sound of leather and fabric slipping was the only thing that broke the sacred silence of the bedroom. When he finally got rid of the last thing covering him, standing completely naked before you, the air escaped from your lungs for a very different reason than the previous orgasm.
It was imposing. Jungkook had always been athletic, but the man in front of you was a work of art carved in stone and desire. His legs were strong, marked by years of military training, and his belly was defined by muscles that tensed with his every move. But your eyes couldn't help but go down to his crotch, and that's when you felt your face burn as if an ember had been brought to you.
You let out a brief, nervous laugh, a mixture of disbelief and modesty that you could not contain. You covered your face with both hands, sinking your fingers into your hot cheeks, as the echo of your own laughter echoed through the canopy of the bed.
"What are you laughing at, little queen?" His voice went deep, charged with a playful but intense vibration. You heard the mattress give way again under his weight as he knelt on the bed.
"It's just that..." you murmured between your fingers, sticking out only one eye to look at him—... "Jungkook, that's impossible. "
"Impossible?"
"You're not going to fit," you blurted out, and this time the laughter was pure nervousness. "You're going to... You're going to break me. I've known you forever, but I never imagined you'd be... like this. It's too much."
Jungkook let out a low growl, one that wasn't anger, but a masculine satisfaction that made him smile halfway. He didn't immediately come over to possess you. Instead, he sat on his heels in front of you, allowing you to process the vision of his manhood. His long fingers surrounded his own erection, which pulsed with a force that intimidated and fascinated you in equal measure. In a slow, deliberate motion, he began to move his hand up and down, spreading the pre-cum that glistened at the tip along the entire length of his member, preparing to ease the way for you.
The wet sound of his own hand against his skin made you close your eyes again, but you couldn't help but imagine it. You knew I was doing that for you, so that the transition from virgin to wife would be as painless as possible.
"Look at me, Y/N," he said, and his tone was no longer joking. It was a royal order, but charged with a tenderness that disarmed you. You pulled your hands away from your face little by little. "The human body is wise, and mine has been waiting for years to fit into yours. I'm not going to break you. I'm going to complete you."
He moved closer, crawling on the bed until his body was back on top of yours. The contrast between his size and your delicate figure has never been so apparent. His thighs, wide and firm, positioned themselves on the outside of yours, forcing you to open again. This time, you felt the tip of his erection, wet and hot, brushing your entrance, right where you still felt the throb of your recent orgasm.
"Jungkook, wait..." you gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, looking for an anchor.
"Shhh... Look me in the eye," he whispered, lowering himself to capture your lips in a deep kiss, a kiss that tasted like promise. "I'm not going to move if you don't ask me. We are going to go millimeter by millimeter. I want you to feel every part of me coming into your life."
You felt how he rested all his weight in his hands at the sides of your head, hovering over you like a protective shadow. He started pushing, very slowly, with a constant and massive pressure that forced you to arch your back against the silk mattress. The feeling of fulfillment was immediate, overwhelming; You felt the raw texture of its veins and the scorching heat of its thickness stretching your skin millimeter by millimeter, forcing your vaginal walls to adapt to it. A groan of surprise and involuntary submission escaped from your throat. It was an experience that overwhelmed you, as if you were being claimed not only by the man you loved, but by an indomitable force of nature.
"It hurts a little," you admitted in a thin voice, pressing your nails into the bare skin of his back, feeling the physical barrier of your innocence firmly oppose his advance.
Jungkook stopped immediately, freezing the thrust. His forehead rested against yours, and you could see the beads of sweat running down his temples, glistening in the candlelight from the superhuman effort he was making to contain his own instincts and not lose control. His eyes were darkened, almost black with dilation, fixed on yours with an absolute, possessive devotion.
"I know, love. "I know," he murmured against your lips, giving you small wet kisses to draw your attention away from the sting. "Breathe with me. Just a little more and we'll be one forever. There will be no more contracts, no fathers, no kingdoms between us. Just you and me."
He waited with infinite patience for your muscles to give way, for your breathing to match his in the midst of that intimate invasion. Only when he felt that you had stopped tensing up and that your femininity was beginning to soften from the heat, did he push again. With a firm, slow, vertical thrust, he finally broke the last vestige of your childhood.
You let out a muffled sob, a mixture of sharp pain and emotional satisfaction so deep it brought tears to your eyes, as you felt him bury himself deep to the root, filling the void you had endured during those five years of solitude. Your insides contracted violently around his member, trapping him in a suffocating grip.
Jungkook stood completely motionless inside you, united at the deepest point possible, allowing the bloodstain that tomorrow the court would see to spread beneath you on the linen sheets as the final, irrevocable seal of your destiny. He put his arms around you, pressing you to his beating chest, and for the first time all night, you felt that the crown was no longer weighing anything.
"That's it," he whispered in your ear, his voice completely broken with emotion and desire. "You're mine, Y/N. And I am, at last, completely yours."
Time seemed to freeze the instant Jungkook finished reclaiming that space that, by right of love and contract, now belonged to him. You gasped, your eyes misty and your nails stuck in his shoulders, feeling that immense pressure that seemed to expand you from within, the pulse of his erection beating directly against your cervix. Jungkook didn't move; He stood there, buried in you, his arm muscles trembling from the effort of holding his weight so as not to crush you as he waited for your body to accept the anatomy of a warrior.
"Breathe, my life... Look at me and breathe," he whispered. His voice was a hoarse thread of pure agony and devotion.
You felt the piercing sting of your lost innocence, but above all, you felt that scorching fullness. Jungkook was too big, a presence that filled you completely, making you feel small and fragile under his body. Every time you tried to relax, the throbbing of his own cock inside you, releasing the first few drops of pre-cum, reminded you how real and carnal this all was.
He lowered his head and began to kiss your tears, sweeping the salt from your cheeks with a tenderness that contrasted with the brute strength of his hips wedged between your thighs. His lips sought yours in a slow, deep kiss, giving you time to process the burning feeling of being one flesh with him.
"Tell me when you're ready," he murmured against your lips, brushing them. I won't move until the pain turns into something else. I don't want you to remember me in pain, Y/N. Never again.
What seemed like hours passed, although they were only minutes of sacred silence where only the crackling of the embers and their rhythmic breaths could be heard. Gradually, the burning began to transform into a dull heat, an addictive electric pulsation that was born right where their bodies came together. Your body, traitor and in love, began to give way, lubricating itself naturally, wrapping around it and finally recognizing the owner of its sighs.
You nodded slightly against his shoulder, letting out a trembling sigh that hit his neck. Jungkook closed his eyes, letting out a low growl, a purely animal sound, and began to move.
It was an almost imperceptible movement at first. A slow rock, a retreat of just a few inches that dragged your inner walls before sinking back down with extreme delicacy. You gasped, your mouth half-open, feeling your skin stretch to accommodate each thrust. It was a beautiful and terrifying sensation at the same time; You felt completely invaded, but in a way that made you feel whole for the first time in five years.
"Damn it... you're so tight... so perfect," Jungkook gasped. His jaw was so tense that you could see the veins in his neck tick under the candlelight.
He increased the pace, but only a little, maintaining that deliberate and deep cadence that allowed you to enjoy every millimeter of his entrance. The wet sound of friction began to mix with the rubbing of the sheets. Every time he slipped out, you felt an unbearable emptiness, and every time he went back in, a burst of heat ran down your spine. His hands came down from your shoulders to intertwine with yours on the pillow, squeezing them tightly, anchoring you to him in this mutual discovery.
"Does it still hurt?" He asked, pausing for a second to look at you. His eyes were injected with desire, fixed on your blushing face, but his worry was what dominated his expression.
"A little... But don't stop," you whispered, arching your back up unconsciously, looking for it to go deeper. "I want to feel you, Jungkook. I want you to erase all this time that we were away."
Those words were the trigger that ended his last trace of self-control. Jungkook let out a heavy sigh, a snort full of lust, and began to charge more firmly, with drier and deeper punches, although without losing the elegance of his movements. The four-poster bed creaked gently to the rhythm of his passion, a sound that mingled with your unbridled gasps and hoarse growls from him. With each movement, fullness became pleasure; a dark, dense, moist and deep pleasure that clouded your judgment completely.
You felt him hit points inside you that you had never explored, sending electric shocks straight into your belly. The pain was completely gone, replaced by a voracious need for me to never let go of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist unconsciously, drawing him in more, wanting to remove any atom of air between their bodies, forcing him to sink to bottom.
"You're mine... My wife, my queen..." he whispered against your lips, each word punctuated by a hard thrust that made you see stars and lose track of reality.
Jungkook raised one of his hands to caress your face, brushing the sweaty hair away from your forehead as he moved with an increasing and uncontrolled intensity. His sweaty body shone in the gloom, a vision of power and absolute dedication. He was giving you everything: his strength, his vulnerability, and the secret of his eternal love.
You reached the edge of the abyss almost without realizing it. Pleasure built up in your belly like a storm about to burst, making you emit wet, broken sounds. Jungkook noticed it instantly; He felt the first contractions of your canal hugging him tightly, he saw how your eyes rolled and how your body began to tremble under his. He picked up the pace, his movements becoming a little more erratic, more urgent, taking you by the hand toward that climax you both shared.
"Jungkook! You shouted his name, your voice broken with emotion, as the world crumbled into a thousand pieces of light and heat.
Your orgasm shook you with a force that left you breathless, your vaginal walls squeezing his member into violent spasms. Jungkook was not far behind. Feeling the emptiness of your liberation sucking it in, it let out a guttural roar that seemed to be born from its bowels, sank for the last time in a brutal way, as deep as it could, and poured into you with an intensity that made you vibrate. Waves of thick, burning semen filled your insides, mixing with your own moisture and the trace of your innocence. He stood there, trembling over you, burying his face in the hollow of your neck as his seed sealed the contract of their lives for good.
Silence returned to the room, but it was a different silence. It was no longer hostile, nor annoying. It was a silence full of peace and a satisfaction that can only be found after a war won.
Jungkook slumped down next to you carefully, but he didn't allow you to walk away. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping you in a protective embrace as you both caught your breath. The sheets were scrambled, stained with proof of their union, but at the time, none of that mattered.
"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, kissing the crown of your head. Now and for all the winters we have left.
You snuggled up against him, feeling his heartbeat against your ear. The prince and princess who hated each other had died that night in that bed, and in their place, two lovers were born who, at last, no longer had to pretend.
(...)
The sun began to filter timidly through the heavy velvet curtains, drawing lines of golden dust in the dense air of the room. It wasn't the sudden awakening you'd imagined for years of nightmares about this day; It was a slow awakening, enveloped in the warmth of a body that no longer felt like that of an enemy, but as your safe harbor.
You opened your eyes heavily, your body feeling strangely sore but light, as if you had taken off an armor you had been wearing for centuries. The first thing you saw was Jungkook's face, a few centimeters from yours. He was not asleep. He watched you with infinite calm, his dark hair tousled on the pillow and an expression of peace that you had never seen him wear in court.
"Good morning, my queen," he whispered, and his voice, hoarse with sleep, sent a delicious shiver down your spine.
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you recalled the details of the night: the confessions, the urgency of his hands, and the way he called you his over and over again. You shifted under the linen sheets, feeling the rubbing of his bare skin against yours, and you looked down at the bed. There, between the two of you, the stain of dried crimson on the immaculate white was the silent testimony of your surrender and of the sealed covenant.
"They're coming soon," you said in a whisper, feeling a knot of nervousness at the thought of the maidens and counselors waiting behind the door.
"Let them come," Jungkook replied with a calm smugness. He moved closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing you to his chest. "They already have what they wanted."
Three sharp and ceremonious knocks echoed through the wooden door. It was the warning of the protocol. The time for intimacy was over; The time of kings was beginning.
Jungkook sat up, giving you one last quick and possessive kiss on the lips before reaching for his silk robe. You did the same, covering yourself in a thin robe, trying to keep your composure as he walked to the door and turned the key that last night looked like the lock of a cell and today felt like the key to a shelter.
The doors opened wide. The ladies-in-waiting entered with their heads bowed, carrying basins of warm water and perfumed oils, followed by the eldest housekeeper, whose only mission was to pick up the central sheet. You saw the woman approach the bed with professional coldness, removing the stained linen with a bow directed at both of them.
You looked at Jungkook. He was standing by the window, the daylight highlighting his aristocratic profile. For a second, his iron mask was back in place: the tense jaw, the icy gaze, the crown prince no one dared to challenge. But before the housekeeper left the room to show the "proof" to the King and the council, Jungkook looked for you with his eyes.
In that brief moment, he gave you an almost imperceptible smile, a spark of complicity that said: "This is our secret. The rest is just theater."
Hours later, you were walking alongside him through the great throne room. The weight of your new gold and sapphire crown was real, and the cheers of the court echoed through the stone vaults. Everyone celebrated peace, the union of two kingdoms and political victory. But you, while holding your head high and the serene expression of a perfect princess, felt Jungkook's hand seek yours under the wide folds of his royal cloaks.
His fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing them with a firmness that reminded you of the heat of the night before. You were no longer the girl who climbed the cherry trees, nor was he the boy who scolded you for being reckless. They were the sovereigns of an empire, yes, but above all, they were two people who had survived hatred to find themselves in the truth.
"Are you ready, Y/N?" He asked you in a low voice, still looking straight ahead at the thrones that awaited them.
"With you, always," you replied, squeezing his hand with the same intensity.
They walked together to their seats, echoing their footsteps ushering in an era. You knew there would be more wars, more intrigues, and more pressures, but you were no longer afraid. For that night, amid the scent of sandalwood and the ashes of the fireplace, you had learned that there was no contract stronger than that which is signed with the soul, nor a crown more valuable than the love of him whom you once called the enemy.
(...)
Five years had passed since that night when the lock of the royal room dictated the beginning of your new life. Five years since the bloodstains and the truths shouted between sighs sealed a pact that no minister would have been able to draft.
You walked along the marble balcony of the east wing, the same one that overlooked the gardens where, in another life, Jungkook chased you through the rose bushes. The afternoon air was crisp, but you no longer felt that constant chill in your bones that used to accompany you when you were alone. The weight of your crown no longer caused migraines; now it was simply a part of you, as natural as the surname Jeon you proudly carried.
"I knew I'd find you here," Jungkook's voice, now deeper and charged with the authority of a King who has won a thousand political battles, echoed behind you.
You turned around with a soft smile, watching as he walked towards you. He no longer wore the rigid dress uniform; He wore a dark silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar and an expression of utter relaxation that he only showed when the doors of the great hall closed.
You watched him approach, noticing how time had only served to polish his beauty. He had some new frown lines around his eyes, the product of sleepless nights studying maps and tracts, but when his eyes met yours, you kept seeing the boy who gave you a wooden soldier.
"The southern emissaries are gone," he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you to his chest with that possessive familiarity that had never diminished. "They say they've never seen a kingdom so prosperous, or a couple so prosperous... "synchronized". "
"If they only knew we spent half our time arguing over grain taxes," you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder.
"Arguing with you is my favorite activity, Y/N," he murmured, kissing your temple. It keeps me on my toes. "It reminds me that my Queen is still the most stubborn and brilliant woman in the entire alliance."
You looked down at the lower garden, where a small three-year-old boy was running after a hunting cub, closely followed by two guards trying to hide their smiles. The little heir of the Jeons had his father's dark, messy hair and your same spark of rebellion in his eyes.
"Look at Minjun," you said, feeling a sweet warmth in your chest. "He's trying to climb the cherry tree."
Jungkook let out a low laugh, a vibration you felt against your own back.
"Like mother, like son. I remember a certain princess who almost broke her leg doing exactly the same thing. I had to rescue her and endure her insults all the way back."
"You rescued me because you wanted to be the hero, Jungkook," you reminded him, turning in his arms to hang from his neck. "Admit it."
"I admit that I have always been at your feet, even if I tried very hard to look like an arrogant prince," he confessed, looking at you with a devotion that had not died down a single day in these five years. "Sometimes I stop to think about that first night... in how close we were to letting ourselves be consumed by pride."
You felt a chill as you remembered the tension back then, the way feigned hatred almost robbed them of happiness. Jungkook lowered his hand to your belly, still flat under the silk of your dress, but where you both knew that a new life was starting to grow again. His touch was soft, protective, loaded with a promise of the future.
"We fulfilled the contract, Y/N," he whispered, lowering his voice until it became a secret only to your ears. "We gave them peace, we gave them the heirs, we gave them the stability they wanted. But what they can never take away from us is that this... This was not because of them."
"It was for us," you added, searching for his lips.
The kiss was slow, loaded with the history they had built together. It was no longer the desperate kiss of two strangers forced together; It was the kiss of two battle buddies who had turned a forced marriage into an empire of love.
As the sun set behind the mountains of your former home, illuminating the horizon with orange and violet hues, you understood that "happily ever after" was not a gift of fate, but something you had both fought and won, millimeter by millimeter, in the privacy of your bedroom and in the coldness of your throne.
Jungkook pressed you tighter against him, looking towards his kingdom, but with his heart set only on the woman in his arms.
"I love you, my Queen," he said, and you knew he would say it every night until the crowns were dust again.
"And I to you, my King," you replied, knowing that, at last, the story of the princess and prince who hated each other was over, giving way to the legend of the kings who loved each other against all odds.
END
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A/N: So, this is officially my very first OS and I’m not gonna lie, I'm absolute wreck of nerves right now lmao. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Any thoughts or feedback are more than welcome! ❤️
Simon was a sweet man. But he was king, and so alone time was scarce, to say the least. This lead to... tasteful rendezvous.
More often than not, Simon would find himself being frustrated with his work, not because it was difficult, because in his words, 's'piss easy, luv' but rather because he was becoming increasingly frustrated at the lack of cunt he was getting these last few weeks.
He had decided he'd had enough. What good was it being king if he was unable to catch even a hint of his wife's delectable pussy?
King Simon got up, leaving his paperwork haphazardously unfinished, making it a problem for his aide to deal with, Sir MacTavish was not getting any sleep that night, and decided to go see you, in your chambers, hoping to catch a glimpse of your soft and creamy body.
Simon barged into your room, sending a strike of fear into your ladies-in-waiting, before speaking lowly. 'Where's m'wife.' The ladies-in-waiting were shaking in their corsets, pointing to the bathing chambers attached to your room as they bowed, 't-taking her evening bath, my lord!' One stuttered.
King Simon paid their nervous forms no regard as he walked by, opening the bathing chambers with a gentle, out-of-the-ordinary demeanour.
He stepped inside, in all his, buff, 6'4 glory, and immediately spotted your small form in the bath tub, covered in bubbles, as well as rose petals. He stripped himself of his clothing as he walked over, walking up to your side before leaning down and kissing your temple before gruffly letting out a harsh 'missed you,' drawing a soft giggle from you, inviting him in with open arms.
After a bit of rearranging, and perhaps a loving grope or two, Simon was behind you in the bath, his thick, scarred, hairy arms, wrapped affectionately around your waist as he kissed and nipped at your neck.
'Your majesty!', you smiled softly, slightly ticklish. 'Simon. Ain't no one but us in 'ere, birdie' he corrected, his hands dragging up your body, cupping your pillowy, supple breasts.
He pinched at your nipples, drawing soft gasps and squirms from you, causing an involuntary arch of your back, while your head pushed back into his shoulder, giving him ample room to suck and kiss at your neck.
'S-simon! It's too much!' You whimpered gently and squirmed, the water rippling around your twisted forms and drawing a deep chuckle from him. 'Missed ya too much. Let me have at yer body, yeah? can do tha' fer yer husband, no?' He said he gave breasts a slightly harsher squeeze, ellicting a groan from him.
You could feel his thick length, poking into your lower back. 'Be good for me, luv' he whispered in your ear, his hands grasping your hips before picking you up and turning you around, and onto his lap....
Summary: In the opulent kingdom of Hesperos, Jeon Wonwoo, the humble baker's son, is pulled into a life of service when the unconventional Princess Y/N arranges for him to become a Page at age eight. Bound by duty, Wonwoo works his way up through the ranks, his childhood promise evolving into the fierce, silent protection of a knight. As adults, their inseparable closeness deepens into a fierce, unspoken love. However, the political demands of the crown intervene when Y/N is forced to accept an arranged marriage, leaving Knight Wonwoo torn between his sacred vow of Honor to the kingdom and his desperate, hidden devotion to the Princess he swore to protect.
A/N: not BETAD. So any mistakes are my fault 😆🫡
The Realm of Celestra in the Kingdom of Hesperos. 1532.
Jeon Wonwoo had always been a caring person.
Especially when it came to people he loved. Everyone around the village knew him as the baker's boy. The one who would hand out stale bread at the end of the day, the one who tried to treat everyone around him with kindness, but the thing that people really talked about was his relationship with the princess of Hesperos.
She would come down to the bakery everyday at dawn and buy two loaves of bread from them. It was on Wonwoo’s eighth birthday that they met for the first time. His mother and father were preparing a particularly large order from the princess the day before, leaving Wonwoo to tend to the counter.
“Who are you?” She asked Wonwoo. He slightly blushed at her question but knew that it was rude to not answer the princess.
“I’m Jeon Wonwoo, your highness. I’m the baker's son.”
The princess nodded as she watched him look towards the kitchen where his parents hadn't emerged yet.
“Your order is almost ready, but it’ll be twelve dollars,” he informed as the princess nodded and handed him a pouch of coins. He opened the pouch and started to count the coins when the princess interrupted him.
“You can have all the money.”
“What?” Wonwoo asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“You can have all the money. I sure don’t need it,” she said again, smiling watching Wonwoo struggle to say anything back to her.
“Well… umm.. Thank you, your highness,” he said, bowing his head as his parents came out of the kitchen with the bread in a basket.
“Princess!” His mother exclaimed, a big smile coming across her face, “here’s the bread you ordered.”
“Thank you Mrs. Jeon.”
“What are you doing with all the bread?” Wonwoo’s father asked, watching the princess struggle to carry the basket.
“It’s for my brother, he asked for some more so that we can have some for lunch,” she huffed trying to look around the basket.
“Wonwoo, why don’t you help the princess and carry the basket for her?” His father asked. Wonwoo nodded and gently took the basket from the princess’ hands as she sighed.
“Thank you,” she smiled, “do you mind coming to the castle?” Wonwoo looked at his parents who smiled and nodded. “I’ll have the coach-man escort you back home.”
Wonoo nodded and followed the princess out to the carriage. His parents waved from the carriage as it took off leaving him and the princess in silence for a majority of the ride to the palace.
“It’s my birthday today,” Wonwoo stated.
“Wait, what?” Y/N gasped, turning around quickly to face him, her braid nearly hitting her cheek, “how old are you turning?"
“Eight,” he smiled.
“Well happy birthday Wonwoo!” Y/N smiled back at him, as the carriage glided up to the castle.
“Follow me!” she said excitedly, tugging open the door and hopping out. Wonwoo remained seated for a beat, letting the sudden silence wash over him, a warmth blooming in his chest that settled into a gentle smile.
The kitchen was at the back of the castle, which meant Wonwoo got to walk around a bit before he left. Y/N led Wonwoo through a magnificent archway, stopping where a handsome older boy, Prince Jeonghan, was waiting.
“Brother!” Y/N announced, catching the attention of the young prince, “the bread is here!”
Jeonghan glanced at the basket, then his attention settled on Wonwoo, “and you are the one who bore this weight. You must be the baker's son.”
Wonwoo immediately lowered his gaze and bowed his head low. “Your Highness, Jeon Wonoo, at your service. It is my honor to deliver the order.”
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, noting Wonwoo’s polite deference and the ease with which he held the basked, which was clearly far heavier than the boy his age should carry without strain.
“An honor, you say?” Jeonghan mused, circling Wonwoo slowly. “Most children who visit the bakery simply take the coin. You seem quite humble to volunteer for the delivery.”
“I didn’t volunteer your highness,” Wonwoo admitted, “my father asked me to deliver the bread.”
Jeonghan waved a dismissive hand, “regardless. You show good strength for your age, better manners than most squires we currently employ, and you were honest with me instead of taking the credit for yourself.”
He paused, looking Wonwoo up and down. “I imagine the palace life is a world away from the village bakery. Tell me, Wonwoo, are you fond of horses?”
Wonwoo, still holding the basket in the middle of the hallway, looked up, surprised by the sudden shift in topic.
“I—I have only seen the royal horses from the edges of the stable yard, Your HIghness,” Wonwoo admitted, his voice soft. “But they are magnificent. My father always said a healthy horse is the kingdom's true wealth.”
Jeonghan gave a rare, sharp smile, “a practical outlook. Good. Our stable master is short on reliable hands, and a boy with strong arms and good manners is a valuable commodity. Tell me Wonwoo, how would you like to see that wealth up close? We are in need of bright, strong, lads for our stable service.” He gestured to the castle towering above them. “The opportunity is there. We would offer you a place as a Page, you would care for the royal mounts and run errands throughout the palace. It is hard work, but it offers a proper education and a future far greater than flour dust.”
Y/N’s eyes lit up with excitement, “say yes, Wonwoo! You can stay!”
Wonwoo looked from the Prince to the Princess, his head spinning with the weight of the proposal. He knew this was a monumental chance for his family. He bowed again, the bread basket dipping slightly, “if my parents agree, Your Highness, I would be honored to accept that position and serve.”
Prince Jeonghan was satisfied enough with the answer and nodded. He reached out, gently rubbing the tops of his sisters head, messing up her hair, and gave a brief, sharp smile before turning away and leaving the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.
Y/N immediately smoothed her hair down, ignoring her brother and turned to Wonwoo with a wide smile, “they will agree! This is wonderful, Wonwoo! We’ll see each other everyday!”
Wonwoo nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He knew that it would be hard for his parents to lose him at the bakery and wasn’t sure if they’d agree. He just let Y/N lead him to the kitchen and placed the bread basket on the table, looking around the room at all the food that was being prepared for the day.
“Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Y/N asked Wonwoo, noticing the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at the spread, but he shook his head and politely bowed.
“Thank you for the offer Your Highness, but I must get back to the bakery. Not only do I have a big decision to make, but I have some bread to prove.”
Y/N nodded her head in understanding, before smiling wide. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear your decision!”
Wonwoo offered her one final, quick bow before she led him back through the sprawling hallways and out to the front courtyard where the couch-man was waiting. He climbed into the carriage, the warmth of her smile still blooming in her chest. Knowing that tonight, his simple life as the bakers son was about to change forever.
As soon as the carriage pulled up to the bakery, his parents were waiting for him. He thanked the couch-man who had opened the door for him and slowly approached his parents, who had big smiles on their faces.
“So? How was the castle?” His father asked, as his mother reached out to hold his hand.
“It was nice,” he quietly responded, avoiding their eyes.
His mother squeezed his hand, sensing his sudden reserve, “only nice? You were gone for a while. Did something happen at the castle?”
Wonwoo took a deep breath, trying to be brave. He pulled his parents towards the front door, “could we go inside? I have to tell you something big,” he said, “while I was at the castle I ran into the prince.”
His father’s expression sharpened instantly at the mention of the prince, “the prince?” His father pressed, “What did he say? Did he have a message about the order?”
“He offered me a job,” Wonwoo explained, sitting down between them. “He said I could be a Page at the castle. I would help with the horses and run messages and they would teach me things.” He looked earnestly at his mother, “he said it was a chance to have a great future.”
Both his parents exchanged a shocked look, their faces betraying their astonishment. They had not expected such high regard to be shown toward their son.
“He was impressed that I could carry the bread basket at my age and said that I had good manners.”
His mother smiled warmly at the mention of her son’s kind heart. She sighed, and tenderly brushed some of his messy hair away from his eyes, taking a close, worried look at him. She knew that her son had a kind spirit and a loving heart. She was scared that the politics of the royal family would ruin him.
“What do you think about the offer, son?” His father asked, sitting down next to his mother and taking Wonwoo’s other hand, so they were connected in a tight circle.
Wonwoo sighed. He knew that his parents would miss him, but he really wanted to study and live in the castle.More than anything, he wanted to get to know the kind and lively spirit that was the princess. He looked up towards his mother and squeezed her hand.
“I want to go,” he stated, his voice quiet but a little firm.
His mother inhaled sharply, a single tear sliding down her cheek, but nodded in understanding. “Oh, my dear boy,” she murmured, squeezing his hand tightly. “We know you do. It’s a chance for you to see the world beyond our bakery door.”
His father squeezed his hand as well, his eyes fixed on the future. “It is an immense opportunity, Son. A gift the Jeon family could never buy,” he looked at his wife. “If we agree, we must set rules. He is only eight. We will insist on weekly visits, and we will insist they treat him fairly.”
“I won’t be alone,” Wonwoo said, looking up at them both, his eyes earnest. “The princess said she would see me everyday. She’ll look out for me.”
His parents looked at each other, the name of the Princess, cutting through their fear and striking at the core of the offer. They knew that the unlikely spark between the princess and their son was the very thing that made this impossible dream possible.
His mother sighed once more, before wiping the tears rolling down her eyes, before looking at her husband who nodded.
“Alright son,” his father said, his voice thick with pride and gravity. “You can be a Page in the castle.”
Wonwoo knew the castle was big from the distant view he had everyday, but he didn’t think it would be this big on the inside. The halls went up so high they almost touched the sky. The vast space gleamed with gold and marble, and every chamber felt like walking into a cold, beautiful treasure chest.
It felt like the opposite of the warm, cozy bakery he grew up in.
He was led up into one of the servants quarters in the east hall. His room was at the top of the tower, which meant he had to climb a lot of stairs every morning. But when he looked out, the view across the kingdom was truly beautiful.
He was given the morning to unpack his things and change into his new uniform. The simple, slightly rough fabric felt stiff and heavy compared to his soft cotton clothes from the bakery. When the time came, another Page, older and silent, led Wonwoo through the echoing stone corridors, down into the lower grounds and toward the immense Royal Stables. The air changed instantly, replacing the cold marble scent with the rich, earthy smells of hay, leather, and horses.
The Stable Master, a large, weathered named Lord, Baek, stood in the central yard, directing a flurry of activity. He did not look up when Wonwoo approached.
“Lord Baek, the new Page, Jeon Wonwoo,” the older Page stated curtly.
Lord Beak finally looked down, his gaze sharp and assessing. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t scowl.
“You are small,” Lord Beak said simply, his voice a low rumble. “And you are new. That means you listen, you do not talk, and you work twice as hard as everyone else. The palace does not pay us to make friends, boy.” He pointed to a large pile of intricate leather bridles piled in the corner. “Your first task: those bridles need cleaning and polishing until they shine like the Princess’s jewels. Then you will sort that pile of curry combs. I want the bronze separate from the steel. Go.”
Wonwoo immediately lowered his head. He knew this was not a place for smiles or softness.
“Yes, sir,” he replied quietly, already moving toward the dirty pile of bridles. He spent the whole rest of the day, even missing supper to finish the work Lord Baek had given him. Only eating when it was almost all the rest of the servants had gone to bed.
He hadn’t even seen the princess his first day, like the thought he would.
The next day was different, he learnt quickly that during the week he would attend school and then help in the stables after school and work purely in the stables during the weekend, leaving almost no time for leisure.
He would attend classes quickly, change and then work until he went to bed. It was the same thing everyday. It wasn’t until almost a month into living in the castle did he see the Princess.
He was making his way to the stables with a couple of horses when he heard her voice. It was bright and clear, cutting through the usual drone of the courtyard like a silver bell. He recognized the sound immediately.
"There you are, Wonwoo! I've been looking everywhere!"
He froze mid-step, causing the horses behind him to shuffle restlessly. He looked up, and there she was, walking towards him, in a fancy gown and flowers all throughout her hair, a clear sign that she had been in the garden. Her face lit up with a usual lively smile at the sight of him.
He immediately dropped his gaze and tried to bow as best as he could while still holding the reins.
“Your highness,” he said, “I apologize. I am still on duty.”
Y/N simply walked right up to him, entirely ignoring the horses and his formal bow.
“Duty? You look like you haven’t slept in a week! Don’t worry, I told Lord Beak I needed help finding the best apples for my pony, Cloud. Come on, I’m rescuing you.” She reached out a hand to take one of his reins, ready to pull him along.
Wonwoo smiled, thankful that he didn’t have to do chores right away. He sighed, and handed her one of the reins. The tension in his shoulders seemed to lift immediately.
Y/N beamed, now walking side-by-side with him, leading the horses away from the crowded stable yard and toward a sunny, secluded path near the royal orchards.
“What were you supposed to be doing right now?” Wonwoo asked softly, unable to help the smile in his voice.
She leaned toward him, lowering her voice so no adults could hear her. “Etiquette lessons with Madame Balm. She always makes me walk lines and corrects my posture even though my posture is perfect!”
Wonwoo chuckled, the sound slightly rusty from a month of hard work and silence. The idea of Y/N forced into rigid formality was both ridiculous yet familiar.
“Walking straight lines sounds terribly difficult,” he murmured, shaking his head.
She tightened her grip on the reins. “It’s a nightmare. But anyway, I haven't seen you around at all! Why did it take you so long to come find me? Did Lord Baek put you in the deepest part of the stables?”
Wonwoo sighed, he also was disappointed that he hadn’t had free time to do simple things like explore the castle or spend time with the princess.
“I’ve been busy from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep,” he explained, pulling the horses to a gentle stop near a large apple tree. “There is school, and then the stables. Everyday Lord Beak doesn't let us stop,” he looked at her then the smile gone, “I thought I would see you sooner.”
Y/N’s bright smile softened into an expression of immediate sympathy. She dropped the reins letting the horses graze freely, and turned fully toward him
“Oh Wonwoo,” she said gently, reaching out a hand to touch his sleeve, “I missed you too. I told you I would see you everyday, and I promise I’ll come to the barn to see you after you're done with school.”
The simple assurance was like warm balm after a month of cold stone and hard labor.
“You will?” he asked, the hole in his voice undeniable.
“Y/N nodded firmly, “every weekday. We can talk while you polish tack or muck stalls. We have to be quick, but we’ll be together. You need a friend here, and so do I.” She gave his sleeve a final squeeze before handing him a basket and turning toward the orchard. “Now, let’s go find those apples. Cloud will be crossed if he misses his snack.”
The simple, quiet ritual established from there became the fixed point in their lives. The early years were defined by shared secrets and easy comfort. Wonwoo polished the tack while Y/N read him chapters from grand adventure novels she was supposed to be studying.
Everyone in the castle found their relationship quite sweet, quite wholesome, seeing it as a lovely display of the Princess’s kind heart and the Page’s steadfast loyalty.
As they started to grow out of their childish features and into their blossoming young teenage years, the comfortable ease began to break down, replaced by a strange, charged awareness. The first big shift between them was when Wonwoo, now transitioning from Page to Squire, had a sudden growth spurt. He was no longer the small baker boy. His shoulders had broadened, and his hands, once small enough to fit inside hers, were now rough and large from endless drills with practice of swords and dealing with hard leather. Their interactions were less about childish games and more about unspoken emotions and feelings of discovery.
There was less time for them to work with horses and run around the gardens, and Princess Y/N could keenly feel the change between them. Instead of watching him clean the stables and helping with the horses, she would now watch him from the palace balcony. Below, he was training, his form becoming sharper, and she watched him make friendships with the older boys and men among him, who were quickly becoming his peers. The stables were no longer their private sanctuary; they were a training ground preparing him for a world she couldn't fully reach.
He had just finished a brutal evening training session and was scarfing down his supper in a quiet corner of the Squire's mess hall when she appeared.
“Are you having fun at least?” She asked Wonwoo, watching him chew quickly.
Wonwoo paused, holding a piece of bread mid-air. His face was smudged with dirt and sweat. He was exhausted, but he shook his head slightly.
“Fun isn’t what it’s for Your HIghness,” he replied, swallowing hard. “It is an honor. I need to be ready to protect your brother, and you, when the time comes.”
Y/N sighed, leaning her elbow on the table. She looked at his tired eyes and the determination etched onto his face. The playful boy she had rescued was now a soldier in training.
“I know it’s necessary, but you used to laugh more,” she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t forget the simple things Wonwoo.”
Wonwoo quickly looked away from her, his gaze locking onto the rough wooden table. He was painfully aware of how close she was, how sweet the scent of her perfume was compared to the stink of sweat and steel clinging to him.
“I don’t forget anything your highness,” he said, his voice a little bit more playful. Trying to reassure her that the boy she once knew was still in there. “But the simple things don’t keep the castle safe. Duty comes first. Always.”
He deliberately avoided looking at her again, using his rigorous schedule as a shield to hide the truth. Every moment spent training, every drop of sweat, was purely for her sake. The duty was the only thing he was allowed to love.
Y/N huffed and stood up from the table, clearly frustrated at the sudden, cold distance he created. She didn’t want to cause an argument with her best friend. She leaned down quickly and pressed a sharp, quick kiss to his grimy cheek before turning and leaving the dining hall.
Wonwoo froze entirely, his fork clattering against the plate. The immediate shock was overwhelming. He looked up, but she was already gone, leaving him alone, heart hammering against his ribs, his duty almost completely forgotten in the face of her reckless affection.
Wonwoo’s sixteenth birthday was quiet, marked by the heavy anticipation of his final years as a Squire. By royal decree, he received a small ceremony in the yard where Prince Jeonghan presented him with a beautifully weighted, custom-fitted-sword, his first piece of truly good steel, a visible sign of his imminent knighthood. While the court cheered his merit, Y/N found him later that night in the armory, the heavy scent of metal and oil surrounding them.
She gave him no gift, but instead, she reached out and traced the sharp line of th new sword resting on his hip. Her touch, far more intimate than any metal, made him hold his breath. He knew his sixteenth year meant the line between them was hardening, he was closer than ever to become her official protector, a position that demanded he be nothing more, and everything less, than the boy she loved.
“Have you given it a name?” She asked, as Wonwooran his thumb lightly along the spine of the blade, careful to avoid the edge.
“No, Your Highness,” he replied. “It’s not mine yet. Not truly. Not until I’m sworn in.”
“But it will be yours,” Y/N insisted, his eyes fixed on the reflective metal. “And it will be the thing that keeps us safe. It deserves a name.”
He looked from the sword to her, and the protective, desperate love he felt for her was momentarily reflected in the cold steel.
“Celestra's Mark.” He said, after a few moments of thinking.
Y/N smiled, a quiet, knowing smile. “It suits you, Wonoo. It suits the shield you are becoming.” She reached out and ran a fingertip over the steel, a daring, silent acknowledgement of the sacrifice he was making for her home.
He quickly re-sheather the blade, the sound a sharp, final click in the quiet armory, marking the end of their sixteenth birthday moment and signaling the return to the strict boundaries they both observed.
He quickly re-sheathed the blade, the sound a sharp, final click in the quiet armory, marking the end of their sixteenth birthday moment and signaling the return to the strict boundaries they both observed.
“How’s Wonwoo’s training going?” Prince Jeonghan asked.
Y/N jumped, a small cry catching in her throat, at the sudden presence of her older brother. Her entire body recoiled, and her hand flew instantly to cover the sudden, frantic pounding of her heart beneath her gown. She took a sharp, necessary breath to regain control.
“Brother! You startled me,” she managed, turning to face him from her balcony she was watching Wonwoo from. “I didn’t hear you come in. Why are you sneaking around?”
Jeonghan raised a skeptical eyebrow at her obvious shock.
“I wasn’t sneaking, Y/N. You were simply daydreaming. You shouldn’t look so guilty when asked about my top Squire,” he jested, his gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks. He walked to the railing and followed her gaze down to the training yard. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental about the baker’s boy?”
Y/N whipped her head around to scowl at her brother before smacking him lightly on the shoulder.
“Don’t call him that, Jeonghan. You know he’s going to be Knight Wonwoo soon,” she retorted, though her cheeks remained pink. She adjusted the fabric of her sleeve, gathering her composure. “His training is excellent, he is ready for his oath next month, isn’t he? Even Lord Baek admitted he’s the sharpest they’ve had.”
Jeonghan smiled, pleased by the quick defense and the confirmation of Wonwoo’s skill.
“He’s the sharpest, which is why I’m making sure he protects what matters most. Once he’s knighted, he won’t be mine. I”ve assigned him to you, Y/N. KNight Wonwoo will be your personal guard. Which, speaking of the future, is why I came looking for you.” He turned, the playful smile fading, signaling the shift to official business.
He leaned against the cold stone railing, his eyes fixed on the distant peaks of the kingdom.
“The political envoys arrived late this morning from the Northern March.” Jeonghan took a long, heavy breath. “The alliance is confirmed, Y/N. You are formally engaged to Prince Mingyu. The betrothal will be announced next month, and the wedding will take place when you both come of age.”
The simple announcement, delivered without fanfare, landed in the quiet afternoon like a shattering pane of glass. Below them, Wonwoo was practicing a flawless disarming maneuver, the first knight assigned to guard his Princess and her new fiancé, completely unaware that the duty he was training for was about to destroy the only thing he truly cared for.
“No,” she whispered, the denial a desperate, raw sound. “No, you can’t - I won’t”
Her composure was utterly fractured. She let out a frustrated, wounded cry, a loud, immature sound completely inappropriate for a Princess, and shoved past Jeonghan, he silks catching on the railing. She didn’t bother with the proper entrance, instead hiking up her skirts and bolting from the balcony entrance, her footsteps echoing loudly down the stone corridor in a frantic dash to escape.
Down below, in the middle of a perfect disarming drill, Wonwoo stopped. The jarring sound of the Princess's unmistakable cry and the panicked rush of her footsteps had cut through the focused chaos of the training yard. He looked up instantly, following the sound to the East Hall balcony. He didn't see the reason, but he clearly saw Prince Jeonghan standing alone at the rail, looking grieved and defeated, and he saw a flash of the Princess's distinctive blue skirt disappearing rapidly into the castle interior. Something was terribly wrong.
Y/N ran without caring who saw her or how undignified she looked. Tears steamed down her face, blurring the marble halls as she raced toward the seclusion of her private chambers. The words formally engaged to Prince Mingyu run in her ears and slammed into her mind, suffocating her. This wasn’t a choice, it was a decree. The cold duty she had always feared had finally snatched her future. She only wanted the comfort of her home, the one she had found in the stables with Wonwoo, but now that home felt impossible far away.
Hours later, long after the curfew bells had sounded and the last of the squires were asleep, Wonwoo crept out of his quarters. He ignored the aching fatigue from his training and followed a familiar, shadowed route through the silent castle grounds. His destination was the stables, the only place he could think she might retreat when the palace felt too large and cold.
He found her exactly where he expected: huddled on a bale of hay in front of her horse Cloud’s stall, the smell of the clean straw a stark contrast of the despair across her face. She was not crying, but her shoulders we slumped and her face was drawnb, illuminated only by the faint silver light spilling in from the high stable windows.
Wonwoo didn’t speak a formal greeting. He simply sat down beside her, the movement quiet and deliberate. The cold hilt of Celestra’s Mark pressed against his hip, a silent reminder of the position that now separated him from her pain.
“Your Highness,” he said softly, his voice barely a murmur, and turned his head to look at her. “What happened this afternoon? What made you run?”
Y/N didn’t lift her head. She picked nervously at a loose piece of straw.
“It doesn’t matter, Wonwoo. It’s palace business,” she mumbled, attempting to push him away from the formal tern.
“It matters to me,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “I saw you run. And I know the difference between palace business and when my Princess is truly hurting.” He waited, allowing the quiet space to fill with the steady breathing of the horses and placed his hand on top of hers a gesture that shattered the distance between them.
Y/N finally lifted her head, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. She didn’t pull her hand away.
“They did it, Wonwoo,” she whispered, her voice cracking, the grip on his hand tightening. “The alliance is confirmed. I am formally betrothed to Prince Mingyu.They said the wedding will be when we come of age. They just sentenced me to years of waiting for a life I don’t want.”
The words Prince Mingyu hit Wonwoo with the force of a solid steel blow. His meticulously constructed inner world, the one built on the fragile hope that his silent dedication would somehow earn him a future near her, shattered instantly.
His breath stopped in his chest. His training, honed over a decade, forced him to remain physically still, but internally, panic seized him. Betrothed. He, her assigned personal guard, had just been sentenced to stand beside her, day in and day out, while she belonged to another man. Celestra's Mark, the sword of his honor, felt suddenly heavy and cold, a permanent weight of irony pressing against his side. The irony was a cruel joke: he had worked tirelessly to earn the right to protect her, only to find that his first and most sacred duty was to escort her to the man she was forced to marry. His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily, not in comfort, but in a momentary, silent plea.
His breath stopped in his chest, but his training forced him to remain physically still. His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily, a momentary, silent plea before he forced his features into the neutral mask of the Squire. He released her hand slowly, pulling back only inches, but the distance felt like miles.
“This is why I must be knighted next month, Your Highness,” he said, his voice low and utterly devoid of emotion, though his heart was hammering a furious rhythm against his ribs. He deliberately focuses on the duty, the only thing he was allowed to acknowledge. “It is necessary for the stability of the crown. It is necessary for the safety of Hesperos.”
He lifted his hand, not to reach for her, but to gently touch the hilt of his sword.
“But I swear to you this,” he continued, his eyes finally meeting hers, intense and burning with a controlled fire. “Until the day they bind you to him, and for every moment after, you will never be alone. I am your shield. I will guard your happiness even if it means sacrificing mine.”
The sheer weight of the unofficial oath hung heavy in the stable air. Y/N watched his face, searching for any flicker of the boy who used to share her forbidden sweets, but saw only the frigid determination of the future knight.
“Wonwoo..” she began, her voice ran, reaching out to him again, perhaps intending to ask the question of their shared past that they both had always avoided.
But Wonwoo didn’t let her finish. He knew that one more word, one more touch, would shatter his discipline he had spent years on, that he needed to survive the years ahead. He quickly stood up, his movements stiff and practiced.
“I must go, Your Highness,” he said, the formality of the title now sounding like a deliberate, painful barrier. “I have an early morning training session, and I cannot be found here.”
He gave her a quick, deep, formal bow. The bow of a future guard, not a friend, and without another word, he turned and melted back into the shadows. He did not look back, even as his heart screamed in protest. He left her sitting alone on the hay bale, holding the cold, empty space where his hand had been, acutely aware that the silence he left behind was the sound of their fate sealing shut.
Two years passed in an agonizing, slow motion defined by duty and proximity. Wonwoo, now eighteen, was no longer a youth. He was a disciplined warrior, lean and stoic, prepared for the oath that would officially bind him to the crown.
Bind him to her.
For the past two years, his life had been a singular exercise in control. The memory of Y/N’s tearful face and the unspoken desperation of their final meeting in the stables fueled his training.
He had mastered the Knight’s Oath and the use of Celestra’s Mark, going over every rule of honor and servitude until his emotions were buried beneath the hard, cold surface of military perfection. He had to be perfect because he was now bound to the Princess in a daily, professional capacity, forced to witness the life he couldn’t have.
Meanwhile, Prince Mingyu had become a fixture at the court. He was everything a future King Consort should be: handsome, genuinely kind, and popular within the court and the people. Crucially he was good with Y/N.
Y/N and Mingyu’s betrothal was treated as a gentle, long-term courtship. They spent time together formally. Attending state dinners, riding, and sharing lessons. Mingyu was attentive and funny, clearly enjoying her company.
Y/N was unfailing courteous to Mingyu, fulfilling her duty, but her heart had not shifted. She still sought out the quiet comfort of Wonwoo’s presence whenever their duties overlapped, replying to his silent understanding, but it killed Wonwoo.
He was always there. Standing two steps behind her as she laughed at Mingyu’s jokes, watching her hand brush Mingyu’s arm, and witnessing the natural ease of a relationship that was publicly accepted. He had to suppress every jealous instinct and every desperate desire, knowing that his primary duty was to ensure the safety and happiness of the man who would take his princess.
“What do you mean you don’t want me there at your knighting ceremony?” She had quietly pleaded, trying not to cause any attention between them in the halls of the servants quarters.
It was almost midnight and if they were seen together, punishment would be brutal. So being quiet was crucial.
“I mean that you have previous commitments to the prince at the time of my ceremony,” Wonwoo sighed, hating the tears slowly falling down her cheeks. “I will ask sir Baek to attend with you in my absence.”
“But I don’t want Sir Baek.”
“I cannot miss my own knighting ceremony,” Wonwoo scoffed.
“Then I will miss the tea ceremony,” Y/N pushed back, trying to step closer to the almost knight. Wonwoo shook his head and held out an arm to push her back slightly.
“We both know you cannot. Your parents would be furious.”
“They should be. They knew your ceremony was tomorrow, why did they have to schedule it on the same day?”
Wonwoo sighed, and allowed himself to have one selfish act of affection towards you. He raised his hand and gently cupped her cheek, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But you cannot miss the tea ceremony.”
Y/N wheeped, but didn’t try to argue more. Instead she leaned into his touch a little bit, allowing him to cup her other cheek. “Promise me that you’ll re-inact the entire thing once I get back?”
Wonwoo chuckled at the request. Only she would ask him such things, but reluctantly agreed by shaking his head. “I’ll skip the nonsense and just show you the badge.”
Y/N gasped and pulled away from him, watching him laugh some more. “You will do no such thing Wonwoo!”
Wonwoo just smiled and watched as she wiped away a few of her own tears before trying her best to put on a smile for him.
The smile that could make twelve hours of training worth it.
The smile that he would kill for.
The smile that saved him from a life of bread and baking.
The smile he loved.
He still thought about how weird it was being in front of the whole royal family and not having her present.
It was ironic. The person he was swearing to protect wasn’t even here.
Prince Jeonghan was the one knighting him, he was the one he was giving his oath to when it should have been the princess.
His princess.
His parents were at the ceremony. It had been almost a month since he had last seen them, and the prince was kind enough to allow them to spend the rest of the day together after the ceremony.
His mother was crying the whole entire ceremony and his father had been standing beside her with a proud look on his face.
The day of the knighting ceremony arrived. The cathedral was packed, the air thick with incense and the sound of solemn music. Wonwoo knelt before Prince Jeonghan, the active royal authority for the ceremony, wearing the heavy formal armor, the weight of the steel a physical manifestation of his sacrifice.
He still thought about how strange it was being here in front of the whole royal court without the Princess present in the royal box.
It was bitterly ironic.
The entire reason he had pushed himself, the person he was truly swearing to protect, wasn’t here at this pivotal moment. Prince Jeonghan was the one administering the oath, the one he was dedicating himself to, when in his heart, that commitment belonged to his Princess.
He found solace only in the sight of his own family. His parents were seated near the front, guests of the royal family for the day. His mother was quietly crying the whole entire ceremony, utterly overwhelmed with pride, while his father stood beside her, his face set in a proud, unwavering expression. It had been almost a month since he had last seen them, and Prince Jeonghan had been kind enough to allow them to spend the rest of the day together after the ceremony.
Prince Jeonghan’s voice boomed as he placed the blunt side of a ceremonial sword, the King's own great sword, on Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Do you swear loyalty to the Crown of Celestra, upholding its laws, its alliances, and its sovereign lines, with Honor as your sole guide?”
Wonwoo met Prince Jeonghan’s eyes, his resolve absolute.
“I swear,” Wonwoo affirmed, his voice ringing clearly through the cathedral.
The final pronouncement was made, the assembly cheered, and the heavy ceremonial robes were swiftly replaced with his new, bespoke knight's uniform. Celestra's Mark, his sword of honor, felt balanced and light on his hip, despite the immense weight of the oath he had just taken.
As the cathedral began to empty, Prince Jeonghan gave him a respectful nod, releasing him. Wonwoo moved immediately toward the section where his family waited.
His mother, dressed in her best Sunday clothes, rushed forward. She didn't bow or curtsy; she simply enveloped him in a fierce, tearful hug, pressing her cheek against the cold steel of his shoulder plate.
“Oh, my beautiful, clever boy,” she wept quietly into his uniform. “You did it. You are a Knight.”
Wonwoo hugged her back fiercely, inhaling the comforting scent of baked dough and lavender that always clung to her. For a moment, he wasn't Knight Wonwoo, sworn protector of the Princess; he was just her son.
His father approached, a man of quiet strength whose own rough hands had shaped hundreds of loaves of bread. He didn't embrace Wonwoo, but instead placed a large, calloused hand on his newly armored shoulder, right where the King's sword had touched him.
“Honor,” his father said, his voice thick with pride. “That is the only thing we ever asked you to carry, son. Carry it well.”
Wonwoo nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.
“I will, Father,” he promised, his voice regaining the steady confidence of his rank. “Always.”
He pulled back, smiling at them both, knowing that their pride was the one shield he was truly glad to carry.
Wonwoo pulled back, smiling at them both, knowing that their pride was the one shield he was truly glad to carry.
They settled at a small, reserved table in a quiet corner of the outer hall, where the noise of the main celebration couldn’t reach them. His mother fussed over his untouched plate of food, while his father sipped water, still watching him with that look of intense pride.
“And the Princess, Wonwoo?” his mother asked softly, resting a hand on his forearm. “Is she well? We heard she has been... very busy with state duties this past year. You two still spend time together, yes?”
The question was innocent, delivered with the easy familiarity of someone asking after a well-loved niece. Wonwoo felt a sharp, internal twist.
“The Princess is excellent, Mother,” he replied, his tone immediately defaulting to the cool, formal respect required of his rank. “As her personal guard, my duty is now to ensure her safety at all times. I am constantly near her, though our interactions are strictly professional.”
His father frowned slightly at the formality. “Professional? What happened to the young lady who used to quiz you on your lessons? I trust the steel hasn't made you forget your manners, son.”
“No, Father,” Wonwoo murmured, avoiding their eyes and focusing on slicing his food with precise, stiff movements. “Her Highness is betrothed to Prince Mingyu now, and my position requires absolute discretion and honor. She is the future of Celestra. I am simply her shield.”
Both of his parents gave each other a knowing look, a silent agreement passing between them not to push any further to upset him. They sensed the rigid, painful distance he had put up around himself. They understood duty, but they didn’t understand the price he was paying for it.
Prince Mingyu was always kind towards Y/N. He never treated her like a possession or a political prize, but rather as a friend he genuinely respected. In the long two years since their formal betrothal, he had come to understand the sad truth of their union.
He knew that she wasn’t in love with him.
This awareness didn’t make him cruel or resentful. Instead, it lent his patience and courtesy a layer of profound maturity. He valued her well-being above their alliance, a face that only deepened the quiet agony for both Y/N and the knight sworn to protect them.
Which is precisely how Mingyu knew that something was wrong with Y/N quickly into the tea ceremony.
She was performing her required courtesies flawlessly, speaking the correct diplomatic language, offering measured smiles, and accepting the exquisite gifts from the Northern March delegation with grace. Yet, Mingyu noticed the minute details.
The way her gaze drifting past the delegates to fix on the reflection of the silver tray before quickly snapping back. She was present, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.
He waited until there was a lull in the ceremony before saying anything.
“Are you alright?” He asked, making sure that the other occupants of the ceremony were busy and not interacting with them.
“Pardon?” Y/N asked, her gaze unfocused for a beat too long.
Mingyu leaned closer, his expression earnest.
“Your hands are shaking,” he whispered, eyes quickly darting down to her shaking hands. “If you need air, I can excuse us. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Y/N felt a fresh wave of despair. It wasn’t the political pressure, it was the unbearable weight of not being there for her best friend. She looked at Mingyu’s kind, concerned face, the man who was trying so hard, and the guilt that she had forced Wonwoo into this impossible, painful position crushed her. She had to deny her reality to the one man who sincerely wished her well.
“It’s nothing, Prince Mingyu,” she replied, forcing a brief, brittle smile. “Just the tediousness of the negotiations. I assure you, I am perfectly well.”
Mingyu sighed, a soft and heavy sound that seemed to carry the wright of both their roles, and nodded his head slowly. In that single gesture, he acknowledge the unspoken truth of her heart without judgement or resentment. He wasn’t just a prince at that moment, he was a man who saw the bars or the cafe they were both trapped in.
With a determined look in his eyes, he began trying to plan an escape for them both, his mind already working though ways to slip away from the prying eyes of the delegates and the stifling atmosphere of the embassy. He knew they couldn’t run forever, but for her, and for his own peace, he was willing to find a way to claim even just a few hours of freedom from the suffocating demands of the crown.
Mingyu moved with a calculated grace, guiding Y/N back toward the interior of the hallway rather than the main ballroom. He knew the embassy's layout well enough to know that the servants’ corridors and the garden exits were currently unguarded, as all security was focused on the front gates and the main reception hall. With a quick, conspiratorial wink, he draped his heavy traveling cloak over her shoulders, effectively hiding her shimmering dress and the royal crest of Celestra. As they reached the heavy wooden door, Mingyu paused, his hand on the iron latch. He looked back at Y/N, the moonlight catching the determined set of his jaw. He wasn't just giving her a few hours of peace; he was risking a minor diplomatic scandal to ensure she didn't break under the weight of her own crown.
“Once we step through this door, we aren’t royals,” he whispered, the cold air turning his breath into a white mist. “Just for tonight, Y/N. No princess, no fiancé, no duty. Just two people walking in the snow.”
Y/N felt a surge of genuine gratitude. For the first time in years, the crushing pressure in her chest eased. She reached out and took his hand, not out of duty, but out of a shared need for air. As the door creaked open, they stepped out into the night, leaving the world of politics and silent knights behind them, if only for a moment.
Once they were alone, Mingyu didn't push or accuse. He simply leaned against the cool stone railing, respecting the space between them.
“I know it wasn’t the tediousness of the negotiations,” he said softly, turning to face her. “You are far too composed for that. Please, Y/N. Tell me what is weighing so heavily on your heart.”
Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, watching the frost gleam on the sculpted bushes below. The air was crisp and clean, offering a small reprieve from the stifling political atmosphere.
“You are too kind, Mingyu,” she murmured, the sincerity in her voice making her throat tight. “That kindness is why this is so difficult.”
She didn’t dare speak Wonwoo’s name, but the heavy implication hung between them. Mingyu already understood.
“Is it still difficult because of the distance?” he asked, his voice low and sympathetic. “Because of what you had to leave behind in Celestra? I never asked you to forget your past, only to share the future with me.”
Y/N finally met his eyes, her own filled with guilt and sorrow.
“I am fighting every day to be the Princess Celestra needs,” she confessed, her voice barely a breath. “But I cannot help but feel like I am giving up some part of myself to do so. Prince Mingyu…. You deserve someone who doesn’t feel like they are breaking just to stand beside you.”
She saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the true source of her fractured heart. Instead, she quickly recovered, forcing a brief, brittle smile.
Mingyu nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than protocol allowed. He was trying to understand, searching her expression for the piece of the puzzle she was clearly withholding. He wasn't a fool; he could hear the finality in her tone, the way she spoke of their union as if it were a sentence rather than a beginning.
"I understand duty," he said softly, his hand retreating from the railing but his presence remaining heavy beside her. "But I do not wish to be another burden you have to carry, Y/N. If standing beside me feels like breaking, then we are starting on a very fragile foundation."
The Northern March delegates laughed at a joke across the table, the sound jarringly loud against the quiet tension between the Prince and Princess. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the snow falling, terrified that if she looked up, he would see the truth, not just that she didn't want him, but that her heart had already been given to someone else.
Mingyu straightened his posture, shifting back into his role as the perfect diplomat as the delegates turned their attention back toward them. He didn't push her further, but the concern hadn't left his eyes.
"The Court Dance begins shortly," he murmured, his voice returning to a formal, neutral tone for the benefit of their audience. "Perhaps the movement will help settle your nerves. I would be honored if you would grant me the first set."
The following days were not filled with the frantic energy of the ceremony, leaving a hollow silence in the private royal gardens. Y/N walked the stone path alone, her fingers trailing over the dew-covered hedges. The heavy silks of the ceremony had been traded for a simpler gown, but the weight of her check remained unchanged. She stopped at the edge of the fountain, watching her own distorted image in the water.
The conversation with Mingyu still echoed in her mind. She had seen the way he looked at her, not with cold calculation of the Council, but with a genuine desire to be the partner she needed. It made the lie heel even more jagged. Every step toward the wedding felt like a step further away from herself, a slow erasure of the woman she used to be before the needs of the kingdom became a cage.
A soft rustle of gravel nearby signaled that her solitude was coming to an end. She turned, her shoulders instinctively tensing for another diplomatic confrontation, but the air in her lungs finally felt light again when she saw Wonwoo.
He was standing a respectful distance away, his expression calm and his posture as steady as the ancient stone walls of the palace. He didn't offer a platitude or a royal greeting; he simply stood there, a quiet anchor in the midst of her internal chaos. Seeing him, the one person who knew the woman behind the title, the suffocating weight of the crown seemed to lift just enough for her to breathe. The brittle, defensive mask she had been wearing since the night before finally softened, and for a fleeting moment, she didn't feel like a Princess fighting for Celestra. She just felt like herself.
“How did you find me?” She asked, looking back to the fountain, not wanting him to see the slight flush on her cheeks.
“You forget my lady, that it is my job to know where you are at all times of the day,” Wonwoo replied, his voice carrying a rare, light trace of amusement. There was a faint, teasing ghost of a smile on his lips that she usually only saw when the palace was fast asleep. It was a subtle, joking tone. One that reminded her he wasn’t just a shield in polished armor, but the person who knew her better than anyone else.
The small smile on his lips didn’t last long; as he stepped closer, his keen eyes swept over her, noting the tension in her shoulders that even the morning air couldn't melt away. The joking tone vanished, replaced by the quiet, intense focus he reserved only for her.
“The levity doesn’t suit the look in your eyes, my lady,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a more private register. He moved to stand near the edge of the fountain, his gaze following hers to the dancing water. “Something happened during the ceremony. Your composure was... different. What is bothering you?”
Y/N felt the familiar urge to deflect, to give him the same brittle smile she had given Mingyu. But with Wonwoo, the lie always felt heavier. He didn't just see the Princess; he saw the girl who was terrified of losing herself.
"Mingyu noticed," she admitted, her voice so low it was almost lost to the splashing water. "He saw my hands shaking. He offered me a way out, and it only made the guilt worse. He’s a good man, Wonwoo. That’s what’s bothering me. He is a good man, and I am standing there lying to him with every breath I take."
Wonwoo’s expression shifted, a shadow of pain crossing his features at the mention of Mingyu’s kindness. For a long moment, the only sound was the rhythmic splashing of the fountain. Then, defying every rule etched into his training since the day he was knighted, he took a step forward, closing the gap that protocol demanded he maintain.
He didn’t just stand behind her as a shadow. Instead, he reached out, his hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before his fingers brushed against hers. He gently took her hand, the one that had been trembling during the ceremony, and folded his palm over it. The leather of his glove was cool, but the pressure was firm and grounding.
“Then stop looking at him as the Prince of a rival house, and stop looking at yourself as a piece of a treaty,” he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, raw honesty. He didn't pull his hand away, even though a single wandering eye from the palace windows could cost him his position. “You are not a lie, Y/N. You are a woman being asked to carry the weight of an entire world on your back. If you cannot be honest with him, at least be honest with me. You don't have to be the Princess of Celestra within these four walls.”
The touch was a silent rebellion, a brief erasure of the line between a knight and his sovereign. For that heartbeat, they weren't a political tragedy in the making; they were simply two people holding onto each other in the quiet of a fading dawn.
Y/N didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she turned her palm upward, lacing her fingers with his as if anchoring herself to the only real thing left in her life. The cool morning air bit at her skin, but where their hands met, there was a heat that made the rest of the world feel distant and blurred.
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a sign of the same fracture she felt in herself. “And what if being honest with you is the most dangerous thing of all?” she whispered. “Every time I look at you, I remember exactly who I am, and exactly what I have to give up to keep this kingdom whole.”
Wonwoo didn’t flinch. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in a slow, rhythmic motion that felt like a silent vow. The distance between them had vanished, and in the stillness of the garden, she could see the golden flecks in his eyes and the way his jaw was set in a hard line of restrained emotion.
“Then let it be dangerous,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Let the world fall apart outside this garden. For once, just once, don’t worry about the Council or the Prince or the peace. Just stay here. Just breathe.”
For a long, suspended moment, the political machinery of Celestra ceased to exist. There were no impending weddings, no trade routes, and no heavy crowns. There was only the sound of their shared breath and the terrifying, beautiful realization that the person she was supposedly "giving up" was most alive when she was standing right here, in the shadow of the man who was never supposed to touch her hand.
The air between them seemed to vanish as the silence grew heavy, charged with years of unspoken words and shared glances. Y/N looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs, not with the cold anxiety of the palace halls, but with a desperate, frantic longing.
Wonwoo’s gaze dropped to her lips, his breath hitching. The logic of the knight, the duty to the crown, and the fear of the Council all seemed to dissolve in the pale morning light. He moved slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, to remember her station, to be the Princess again. But she didn't move
She leaned in, closing the final inch of the distance that had felt like a chasm for far too long. When his lips finally met hers, it wasn't the polished, formal grace of a royal courtship. It was a collision of relief and suppressed grief. It was the taste of a secret they had both been dying to tell, a soft and tentative touch that quickly deepened into something more certain. His free hand came up to rest against the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her jawline, holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded.
For that one moment, the wedding to Mingyu felt like a ghost story from a distant land. There was no Celestra, no Northern March, and no duty. There was only the warmth of him, the scent of the garden, and the terrifyingly beautiful reality of a love that could never be spoken of in the light of day.
Wonwoo let out a sharp, ragged breath against her skin, the instinct of a soldier suddenly warring with the hunger of a man. The reality of their situation seemed to crash back into him, and he began to pull away, his hands sliding from her waist to her shoulders to create distance. He was the protector, the one meant to keep her safe from the very scandal they were currently creating.
But Y/N wasn’t ready to let the world back in.
As he retreated, she stepped forward, her hands tangling in the heavy fabric of his tunic to pull him back. She chased his lips, refusing to let the warmth vanish, her movements desperate and unyielding. She didn't want the safety he offered; she wanted the fire that only he could provide.
A low, pained sound caught in Wonwoo’s throat as he felt her persistence. His resolve, built over years of rigid discipline, crumbled in the face of her touch. His hands moved from her shoulders to her face, his fingers threading through her hair as he stopped retreating and met her with an intensity that matched her own.
For a few breathless seconds, he stopped being her guard and simply became hers. He kissed her with a ferocity that spoke of every time he had been forced to stand three paces behind her, every time he had watched her smile at Mingyu, and every night he had spent patrolling her door knowing he could never enter.
It was a beautiful moment, fueled by the knowledge that every second they spent like this was a betrayal of the crown she wore, and the life they were both expected to lead.
Finally, it was Y/N who pulled back, though only by an inch. Her breath came in short, jagged hitches, the heat of the kiss still burning on her lips. She didn't let him go completely; her hands remained anchored to his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart beneath the heavy fabric of his uniform.
Wonwoo stood perfectly still, his eyes dark and clouded with a mixture of adoration and agony. He didn't try to step back again, nor did he reach for her. He simply waited, his head bowed slightly, yielding entirely to her. In this quiet corner of the garden, the power dynamic of the court had inverted. He wasn't the guard commanding her safety, and he wasn't the soldier following a vow; he was a man placing his entire existence in her hands, waiting for her to decide what happened next.
He was giving her the control, the one thing she never had in the council rooms or at the tea ceremonies. If she told him to leave, he would disappear into the shadows. If she told him to stay, he would burn the world down to keep her.
Y/N looked up at him, her fingers curling into the embroidery of his tunic. For the first time, the silence between them didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a choice. She could see the vulnerability in the set of his shoulders, the way he was breathing only when she did, completely attuned to her next move.
"You're not going to stop me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment.
"I am yours to command, my lady," Wonwoo murmured, his voice rough and low. "In this, and in everything else. If this is what you want... I have no will to fight you."
Y/N blushed, but before she could say anything the heavy, metallic thud of the Great Terrace doors echoing across the stone gallery acted like a bucket of ice water. The spell shattered instantly.
Wonwoo was the first to react, his soldier’s instincts overriding his heartbeat. He stepped back with a sharp, fluid movement, putting the required three paces of distance between them before Y/N had even fully processed the sound. By the time the heavy doors creaked open and the rhythmic click of heels on marble grew louder, he had already straightened his tunic and clasped his hands behind his back, his expression smoothing into a mask of professional indifference.
Y/N turned toward the fountain, her heart still racing so violently she was sure the approaching attendants would hear it. She frantically smoothed her skirts and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her lips still tingling from the pressure of his.
“Princess? Your father is requesting your presence in the solar for the finalization of the wedding guest list.”
The voice of a young page reached them, followed shortly by the boy himself as he rounded the hedge. He stopped and bowed low, oblivious to the fact that he had walked into the aftermath of a quiet revolution.
“I am coming,” Y/N managed to say, her voice steadier than she expected, though she didn't dare look back at Wonwoo yet.
As she began to walk toward the terrace, she passed Wonwoo. For a split second, their eyes met, a flash of raw, shared memory that burned through their masks. He bowed his head as she passed, the perfect picture of a loyal, stoic guard, but the slight tension in his jaw told her everything she needed to know.
The three years leading up to Y/N’s wedding changed everything, even if they never spoke about it. That morning in the garden was still there, hanging between them like a secret they both remembered but never dared to bring up. To talk about the kiss would mean admitting they had broken the rules, so they just lived with the memory of it, letting it sit in the silence of every room they shared.
In those three years, Wonwoo grew into a man who didn't need words to understand her. He became a master of noticing the small things that everyone else missed. He knew that when she was stressed about the wedding, she would twist the ring on her finger until her skin was red, and he’d quietly step into her line of sight to catch her eye and keep her grounded. He noticed that she hated the heavy, suffocating scent of the lilies the Queen favored, so he would make sure the windows in her sitting room were cracked open just enough to let in the fresh air before she arrived.
For Y/N, Wonwoo was the only person who actually saw her. She noticed how he always seemed to know when she had a headache, standing in a way that blocked the harsh glare of the sun from her desk. She watched him change, too, his shoulders got broader, his face more serious, and his protective streak grew even stronger. He didn't have to say anything for her to know he was looking out for her. Every time he handed her a cloak before she felt a chill, or stepped closer when a stranger got too near, it was his way of staying close to her without breaking the silence they had maintained since they were fifteen.
Despite the fact that her wedding to Mingyu was now only weeks away, they continued their quiet routine. They were experts at pretending they were just a Princess and her guard, but the way Wonwoo noticed every small change in her mood said otherwise. He was still the person who knew her best, even if they had to act like that kiss in the garden had never happened.
The training grounds were thick with the scent of kicked-up dust and oiled leather as Wonwoo and Mingyu circled each other. Now at twenty one, both men had grown into their frames; Mingyu with the broad-shouldered, effortless grace of a future king, and Wonwoo with the lean, lethal efficiency of a high-tier guard. The clash of their practice swords echoed against the stone walls, a rhythmic, violent dance that usually ended in a draw.
"You're distracted," Wonwoo remarked, his voice steady even as he parried a heavy blow from Mingyu’s blade. He didn't wait for a response before stepping into Mingyu’s space, forcing him to adjust. "Your footwork is sloppy on the left. You’re overextending because you’re tired."
Mingyu laughed, a short, breathless sound as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Maybe. The wedding preparations are exhausting. My father has me reviewing trade routes until dawn." He lunged again, but Wonwoo deflected the strike with a flick of his wrist. "But how would you know? I thought I was hiding the fatigue well enough."
"You are," Wonwoo said, his eyes focused and sharp. "But you’re moving the same way the Princess does when she’s had a long night of council meetings. You both get a slight tension in your shoulder, the right one. It makes your strikes heavy but slow."
Mingyu stopped mid-swing, his sword dropping an inch. He tilted his head, looking at Wonwoo with a sudden, piercing curiosity. The silence on the field stretched out, suddenly heavy.
"The right shoulder?" Mingyu repeated, his tone thoughtful. "I've known her since we were children, and I never noticed that. I didn't even know she had a tell when she was tired. She usually just hides behind that perfect, icy smile."
Wonwoo realized his mistake instantly. The "little things" he had spent three years cataloging were supposed to be his private map of her, not something he shared with her fiancé. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his expression smoothing back into a mask of professional neutrality.
"It is my job to notice," Wonwoo said, though the words felt hollow in his own ears. "A guard who doesn't recognize when his charge is fatigued is a guard who misses a threat. She hides it well from the court, but she can't hide it from the person standing three paces behind her for twelve hours a day."
Mingyu didn't go back to the sparring stance. He sheathed his practice blade and stepped closer, his gaze searching Wonwoo’s face. "You notice a lot, Wonwoo. You knew her favorite tea yesterday before she even asked for it. You moved her chair away from the draft in the solar without her saying a word. You seem to know her better than I do, and I’m the one she’s supposed to marry."
Mingyu didn't reach for his sword again. Instead, he leaned against a wooden training post, watching Wonwoo with a look that was more analytical than angry. There was no heat in his eyes, but there was a new, sharp focus, the kind a hunter uses when he realizes he’s been looking at a map upside down.
"It’s more than just the shoulder, isn't it?" Mingyu asked, his voice dropping to a conversational level that felt far too intimate for the middle of a training field. "Yesterday, at the banquet, she started to reach for the wine, but you swapped her glass for water before her fingers even touched the stem. You knew she had a headache before she’d even admitted it to herself."
Wonwoo felt a cold pull of dread in his stomach, but he kept his posture rigid. "The Princess is prone to migraines when the hall is too crowded, Prince Mingyu. I was simply anticipating a need to keep her present for the toast."
"And the way you stand?" Mingyu continued, ignoring the excuse. He stepped toward Wonwoo, circling him slowly, much like they had been doing during the spar. "You don't just stand behind her. You stand for her. You adjust your position based on the sun to keep her in the shade. You move when she breathes. It’s almost like you’re wired to her."
Mingyu stopped in front of him, looking Wonwoo straight in the eye. There was no malice in his expression, Mingyu wasn't a cruel man, but there was a dawning realization that he was stepping into a space that was already occupied by someone else.
"I’ve spent three years trying to learn her favorite colors and her favorite poets," Mingyu said with a faint, almost sad smile. "And here you are, knowing the rhythm of her breath. It makes me wonder, Wonwoo... is that level of devotion something they teach in the Guard, or is it something you taught yourself?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Wonwoo knew that any answer he gave now would be a confession. He could see Mingyu waiting, not for a lie about protocol, but for the truth about why a common guard looked at the future Queen as if she were the only fixed point in a turning world.
Wonwoo didn’t blink. He kept his gaze level, matching Mingyu’s stare with a calm that he didn't actually feel. He knew he was standing on a thin ledge. One wrong word could end his career or, worse, put Y/N in a position she couldn't explain.
"Every person has a rhythm, My Lord," Wonwoo said. His voice was low and steady, lacking any of the nervous energy that might give him away. "When you spend every waking hour ensuring someone stays alive, you stop seeing them as a person and start seeing them as a series of patterns. I know when she is tired because a tired Princess is a vulnerable one. I know when she has a headache because a distracted Princess doesn't see a threat coming."
Mingyu hummed, a small sound of acknowledgement, but he didn't look convinced. He picked up a cloth to wipe the sweat from his neck, his eyes still fixed on Wonwoo.
"Patterns," Mingyu repeated. He sounded like he was testing the word out to see if it rang true. "That’s a very clinical way to describe it. But I’ve watched you when she isn't looking. You don't look like a man watching for assassins. You look like a man who is afraid the world is going to break her."
Wonwoo tightened his jaw. He could feel the heat of the afternoon sun on his neck, but he felt cold. Mingyu wasn't being aggressive, which made it harder to deflect. He was being observant, and that was far more dangerous.
"She is the future of this kingdom," Wonwoo replied. He chose his words with extreme care. "It would be a failure on my part if she were to break under the weight of it. If I know her better than most, it is only because I am the only one allowed to see her when the mask slips. That is the burden of the guard, not a choice of the man."
Mingyu stayed quiet for a moment, tossing the cloth aside. He looked out toward the palace balcony where Y/N often sat.
"I hope you're right, Wonwoo," Mingyu said. He didn't sound angry. He sounded almost worried. "Because if I am going to be her husband, I would like to think I could eventually understand her the way you do. But standing here, I feel like a stranger trying to read a book in a language I haven't mastered yet."
He turned back to Wonwoo, his eyes searching. "It makes me uneasy. I do not want to lose her before our life together even begins simply because I am too blind to see what she needs. You have had three years to learn every breath she takes, and I am starting to realize that if I do not catch up, I will never truly have her."
Wonwoo felt a sharp pang of guilt mixed with a dark, possessive spark he tried to shove down. He realized that Mingyu wasn't just suspicious; he was afraid. He was afraid that no matter how many titles he held or how many provinces he brought to the marriage, he would always be the second person in the room when it came to Y/N’s heart.
"You have time, My Lord," Wonwoo said, though the words felt like a lie on his tongue.
"Do I?" Mingyu asked with a small, hollow laugh. "The wedding is in a month, Wonwoo. You have a three-year head start. I just hope that by the time I learn her patterns, she hasn't already decided that you are the only one who truly knows her."
Mingyu offered a final, lingering look at the palace before turning away without another word. The sound of his boots retreating across the gravel felt like a countdown, each step emphasizing the month remaining before the wedding. Wonwoo remained exactly where he was, his hand still gripped tightly around the hilt of his practice sword. The silence of the training grounds rushed back in, but it offered no comfort. He realized then that Mingyu’s lack of anger was actually more dangerous than a confrontation. A jealous man could be handled with protocol, but a man who recognized the truth was a man who might eventually demand it.
Wonwoo looked down at his calloused hands, the same hands that had caught Y/N’s tears and adjusted her cloaks for years, and felt the crushing weight of his position. He was the keeper of her secrets, but as Mingyu had pointed out, he was also the one standing in the way of her future. He stood alone in the settling dust, realizing that his devotion was no longer just a shield for the Princess, but a growing threat to the very peace he was sworn to protect. The map of her heart that he had spent three years drawing was no longer his alone to keep. Mingyu was looking for it now, and Wonwoo knew he couldn't hide the trail forever.
Later that evening, the palace had fallen into the hushed, rhythmic stillness of the night watch. Wonwoo stood outside Y/N's chambers, his back to the door, but his mind was still on the training grounds. He waited until the final patrol of the hour passed before he risked a soft, rhythmic knock on the wood behind him. It was a signal they had used a handful of times over the years, one that bypassed the formal "My Lady" and spoke directly to the girl he had once kissed in the garden.
The door opened just a crack, and the warm glow of candlelight spilled into the dark hallway. Y/N looked up at him, her hair down and her face tired, her eyes immediately searching his for the reason behind the late-night interruption. She noticed the tension in his jaw before he even spoke.
"We need to be more careful," Wonwoo whispered, his voice barely audible. "Mingyu is not as blind as we thought. He is starting to see the patterns."
Y/N stood up from her desk by the window. The moonlight lit up her face just enough that Wonwoo could see the worried expression she was wearing. “See the patterns? What do you mean?” she asked, reaching out. Wonwoo sighed and took her hands, his rough palms a stark contrast to her soft skin.
“We were training together today and I was foolish enough to share an observation about you with him,” Wonwoo admitted. He looked down at their joined hands, realizing how easily this simple gesture would confirm every suspicion Mingyu held. “He noticed how I look after you. He mentioned the way I know your favorite tea or how I move to block the draft before you even feel the cold. He told me he feels like a stranger reading a book in a language he hasn't mastered yet.”
Wonwoo squeezed her fingers gently, his voice dropping an octave. “He isn't angry, Y/N. That is the problem. He is observant, and he is starting to realize that I have a three-year head start on knowing your heart. He told me he’s afraid he will never truly have you because I am already standing in the space he is supposed to occupy.”
Y/N felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. The three years of silence they had maintained suddenly felt fragile, like a glass bridge beginning to crack under the weight of Mingyu's gaze. They had spent so much time perfecting their masks in public that they had forgotten that a man who loved her would be looking for the person behind the mask.
“If he knows,” Y/N whispered, her eyes searching Wonwoo’s, “then he knows that my marriage to him will be a lie. What do we do, Wonwoo? If he tells my father, or if he decides he cannot marry a woman who is already spoken for in every way that matters, what happens to you?”
Wonwoo pulled her closer, his hands moving from hers to cup her face. The professional distance he had maintained for years finally snapped. He looked at her with a raw intensity that made her breath hitch, the mask of the stoic guard completely gone.
"He won't tell your father," Wonwoo said, his voice low and urgent. "Mingyu is a good man, but he is a man who wants to be loved. He will keep watching us, and eventually, the truth will destroy all three of us. I cannot stand by and watch you walk down that aisle knowing I am the reason your heart is breaking."
As he spoke, a single tear escaped and traced a slow, shimmering path down her cheek. Wonwoo didn't hesitate. He reached out and caught the drop with the pad of his thumb, wiping it away with a tenderness that felt more intimate than any word he had ever spoken. He let his hand linger there, his thumb resting against the corner of her mouth.
"I have spent the last three years watching you prepare for a life that is going to suffocate you," he continued, his voice softening. "I have made arrangements. I have a way out of the city, and I have friends across the border who do not care about alliances or crowns. I am not telling you that we have to go tonight, but I am telling you that the door is open."
He stepped back just an inch, giving her space to breathe, though he didn't let go of her hands. "You have two weeks before the final ceremonies begin. Use them. Look at the life they have built for you, and then look at me. If you decide that you cannot go through with it, tell me. We will leave everything behind, and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it. But if you choose the crown, I will stay. I will be your guard, and I will never speak of this again."
The silence in the room was heavy with the weight of the choice he had just laid at her feet. For three years, they had been trapped by fate, but now, Wonwoo had given her the one thing she thought she had lost forever: a way out. He was offering her a life of anonymity and struggle, but one where he could finally love her in the light.
"Think about it, Y/N," he whispered, his eyes lingering on hers. "Don't answer me now. Just know that you don't have to be the person they are forcing you to be. You just have to decide if the woman you are is enough for the life I can give you."
The days that followed were a slow torture of divided loyalties. Every time Y/N looked at Mingyu, she saw a man who was genuinely trying to bridge the gap between them. He brought her books he thought she might like and made self-deprecating jokes during formal luncheons to try and coax a real smile from her. At twenty one, Mingyu was everything a princess should want, kind, handsome, and earnest. Yet, every time he reached for her hand or asked her a question about her childhood, Y/N felt a wave of guilt so cold it made her fingers go numb. She was watching a good man fall in love with a ghost, while the man who actually held her soul stood three paces behind her, a silent shadow in silver armor.
Her internal struggle became a physical weight as the wedding preparations reached a fever pitch. She spent her afternoons in fittings for a gown that felt more like a shroud, surrounded by seamstresses who praised her beauty while she felt like she was disappearing. During these moments, her eyes would instinctively find Wonwoo’s reflection in the tall pier glasses. He remained the perfect picture of professional indifference, but she could see the slight, familiar tension in his jaw that Mingyu had pointed out. She realized then that Wonwoo wasn't just waiting for her answer; he was suffering through every second of the countdown alongside her.
The contrast between her two lives grew sharper with every passing hour. With Mingyu, there was the promise of a stable, powerful future, a crown, a duty fulfilled, and the safety of her kingdom. With Wonwoo, there was only the unknown. She thought about the horses at the south postern and the gold he had saved, and she wondered if she was brave enough to be the woman he believed she was. She was terrified of the war her departure might spark, but she was even more terrified of the person she would become if she stayed. Every time Mingyu laughed or tried to "learn her patterns," it only served to remind her that those patterns had been woven by Wonwoo’s hands.
By the end of the week, the pressure had become nearly unbearable. Y/N found herself standing on her balcony late at night, looking out toward the dark horizon where the border lay. She thought about the life Wonwoo had offered her, a life without titles, where they could finally speak about that morning in the garden without fear. The choice was no longer just between two men; it was between the Princess of Hesperos and the woman who had once been kissed behind a hedge. As the moon climbed higher, she realized that the more Mingyu tried to know her, the more she realized that only one person truly did.
The dining hall felt far too large for just the two of them, the flickering candlelight casting long, distorted shadows against the tapestries. Mingyu had dismissed the servants earlier than usual, leaving them in a silence broken only by the clinking of silverware. Wonwoo stood at his post by the heavy oak doors, a silent statue whose presence seemed to vibrate in the air between Y/N and her fiancé.
“You’re doing it again,” Mingyu said quietly, setting his wine glass down with a definitive click.
Y/N looked up, her fork pausing halfway to her plate. “Doing what?”
“You’re here, but you’re not,” Mingyu replied, his voice devoid of anger but heavy with profound sadness. He leaned forward, the light catching the gold embroidery of his tunic. “I have spent the last hour trying to talk to you about the music for the ceremony, about the flowers, about our future home in the North. And every time I speak, you look right through me as if I am a ghost.”
Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. “I am just tired, Mingyu. The preparations are a lot for anyone.”
“It’s not just the fatigue,” Mingyu countered, his gaze shifting briefly to the shadow by the door before returning to her. “I’ve tried to learn your patterns, Y/N. I’ve tried to be the man who knows when you’re stressed or when you need a moment of quiet. But every time I think I’ve found a way in, I realize that the door is already locked from the inside. There is a wall around you that I can’t climb, and I think we both know who holds the key.”
The air in the room became suffocating. Y/N glanced toward Wonwoo, but he remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the far wall, though she knew he was hanging on every word.
“I want to love you,” Mingyu said, his voice cracking slightly. “I want to be the person you turn to. But how can I marry a woman who looks at her guard with more recognition than she looks at her husband? How can I build a kingdom with someone who treats my presence like a sentence she has to serve?” He reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers but not quite touching. “Tell me the truth, Y/N. If I walked out of this room right now and called off the wedding, would you be heartbroken, or would you finally be able to breathe?”
The silence following Mingyu’s question was so heavy that the crackle of the fireplace sounded like a thunderclap. Y/N looked down at his hovering hand, then slowly shifted her gaze to the doors where Wonwoo stood. For three years, she had carried the weight of the crown and the secret of the garden like a leaden cloak, but looking at Mingyu’s pained, honest face, she realized she couldn't let him shoulder the burden of a lie any longer.
“I would breathe,” she whispered, the words coming out as a shaky, jagged confession.
She looked up, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I would breathe, Mingyu, and that is the most terrible thing I have ever had to admit. You are a good man. You have been nothing but kind, and patient, and everything a Queen could ever ask for. But my heart was never part of the alliance. It was never mine to give to you in the first place.”
Mingyu’s hand dropped to the table, his fingers curling into a fist. He didn't look surprised; he looked like a man watching a storm he had seen on the horizon finally make landfall. He followed her gaze to Wonwoo, who had finally broken his stance. Wonwoo’s hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression a mix of terrifying protectiveness and profound grief.
“It’s him, then,” Mingyu said, his voice a hollow echo. “It’s been him since the beginning. Every time you tripped, every time you sighed, every time you looked for a reason to leave a room, it was always toward him.” He let out a sharp, bitter breath that wasn't quite a laugh. “All this time, I thought I was failing to win you over. I didn't realize I was trying to win a battle that had already been lost years ago.”
Y/N stood up, her chair scraping harshly against the marble floor. “It wasn't a choice I made to hurt you, or the kingdom. It just... it happened. And we spent three years pretending it didn't. We tried to be what everyone needed us to be, Mingyu. But I can't do it anymore. I can’t walk down that aisle and promise to spend my life with you when every piece of me belongs to the man standing three paces behind me.”
Mingyu sat in silence for a long time, his eyes fixed on the flickering candle flames. The betrayal clearly hurt, but his anger seemed to be eclipsed by a weary sense of clarity. He looked at Y/N, then shifted his gaze to Wonwoo, really looking at him for the first time not as a shadow, but as a rival who had already won.
"I will not be the one to go to your father," Mingyu said, his voice sandpaper-dry. "I have no desire to be the reason a man is executed for the crime of being loved by a Princess. And I have too much pride to drag a woman to the altar who is mourning someone else while she holds my hand."
He stood up, his movements stiff and formal. He walked toward the door, stopping just a few feet from where Wonwoo stood. The height difference between the two men was negligible, but the tension was immense.
"I will tell the Council and the King that I am the one who wishes to call off the wedding," Mingyu stated, looking Wonwoo directly in the eye. "I will tell them that I have realized our temperaments are not a match, and that the alliance would be better served through trade agreements rather than a hollow marriage. I will take the blame, and I will return to my own lands."
He turned back to Y/N, a shadow of a smile touching his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes. "But understand this: my protection ends the moment I leave. The King will be furious. He will look for someone to blame for my departure, and he will look at your guard with fresh eyes once I am no longer here to distract him. You have the freedom you wanted, but it is a fragile thing."
Mingyu reached for the door handle, pausing one last time. "I won't tell your secret, but I won't help you keep it either. If you are going to run, you should do it while the court is still reeling from my announcement. Because once I am gone, you will be the only target left for his rage."
With a final, sharp nod, Mingyu exited the hall, leaving the heavy doors to swing shut behind him.
The silence following Mingyu’s departure was thick and suffocating. Wonwoo didn't wait more than a heartbeat before he was across the room, his hands finding Y/N’s shoulders. The professional mask had completely shattered, replaced by an urgency that bordered on desperation. He knew the clock was ticking; once Mingyu delivered his news to the King, the palace would transform into a cage of suspicion.
"We leave tonight," Wonwoo insisted, his voice a low, frantic rasp. "Do not pack a trunk. Do not look for jewelry. We take only what we can carry on a horse. Mingyu has given us a window, but it is closing with every step he takes toward your father’s study. Once the King realizes the alliance is dead, he will look for a reason, and he will look at me first."
Y/N nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. They moved through the servant passages, ghosts in the corridors they had walked for years. Wonwoo led the way, his hand never leaving hers, his eyes scanning every shadow. They reached the heavy iron gate of the south postern, the air smelling of damp earth and freedom. Wonwoo pulled the heavy bolt back, the metal screeching just slightly, and for a moment, the open woods lay before them, dark and inviting.
"Just a few more steps," Wonwoo whispered, stepping out into the cool night air and reaching back to pull her through.
"Is that as far as you thought you would get?"
The voice was like a blade of ice cutting through the dark. Torches flared to life all at once, illuminating the stone archway and the line of royal guards standing with crossbows leveled. Standing in the center of the light was Y/N’s father, the King. He looked older in the torchlight, his face twisted in a mask of cold, controlled fury. He didn't look at his daughter; his eyes were fixed entirely on Wonwoo’s hand, which was still gripped tightly around Y/N’s.
"I trusted you with her life," the King said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I gave you the honor of standing in her shadow for years, and you used that proximity to rot the very foundation of my kingdom. Did you truly believe I wouldn't notice the way you looked at her? Or did you think my daughter’s duty was so cheap it could be stolen by a common soldier in a garden?"
Wonwoo didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his own as the guards moved in to circle them. The freedom of the woods was only ten feet away, but it might as well have been on another continent.
The King took a step forward, the orange light of the torches dancing in his eyes. He ignored the crossbows and the tension in the air, focusing entirely on the man who had dared to touch the crown’s most precious asset. He didn't order an execution, not yet. Instead, he looked at Wonwoo with a terrifying, quiet curiosity.
"You have thrown away your life, your honor, and the safety of your family for this," the King said, gesturing vaguely to the dark woods behind them. "A common guard, raised in the barracks, believing he could steal a Princess. Tell me, soldier, before I have you stripped of your rank and thrown into the black cells: why? What could you possibly see in my daughter that was worth the certain death you are facing now?"
Wonwoo didn't flinch. Even with the tips of the crossbow bolts glinting in the light around him, he stood tall. He felt Y/N’s fingers tremble in his, and he squeezed them once, firmly, before finally speaking.
"It wasn't a choice, Your Majesty," Wonwoo began, his voice surprisingly steady. "I didn't look at her and see a Princess or a political alliance. I saw a girl who was forced to grow up in rooms full of people who only wanted something from her. I love her because I am the only one who knows what her silence sounds like. I love her because I have seen the weight she carries every single day, and I wanted to be the one person she didn't have to be strong for."
He took a small breath, his eyes meeting the King’s without a shred of apology. "I love her because I noticed the things no one else cared to look for. I know how she breathes when she’s afraid, and I know exactly how much she has sacrificed for a crown that only feels like a cage. You see a legacy, My Lord. I see a person. And if loving her as a person instead of a puppet is a crime, then I am guilty a thousand times over."
The King’s expression didn't soften; if anything, his jaw tightened at the raw honesty in Wonwoo's voice. He looked at his daughter, seeing the way she was looking at Wonwoo, not with the practiced grace of a royal, but with a desperate, heartbreaking devotion.
Y/N stepped forward, her movement so sudden and determined that the guards with the crossbows shifted their weight. She did not let go of Wonwoo’s hand; instead, she used it to pull herself level with him, standing shoulder-to-shoulder against the light of the torches.
"He is right, Father," she said, her voice ringing out with a clarity she had never possessed in the Council chambers. "You ask why he loves me as if it is a mystery, but the real question is why you never bothered to know me well enough to ask that yourself. For years, I have been a piece on your board. I have smiled when told, spoken when prompted, and agreed to a marriage that would have withered my soul just to keep your peace."
She looked at her father, seeing the king first and the parent second, and for the first time in twenty one years, she didn't look away.
"You see his devotion as a betrayal of his rank, but it is the only honest thing in this entire palace," she continued, a single tear silvering her cheek but her gaze remaining steady. "Wonwoo didn't steal me. He saved me. He saw the girl you forgot existed beneath the silk and the titles. If you punish him for loving me, then you are punishing the only person in this kingdom who actually knows who your daughter is. You can throw him in the cells, or you can take his life, but you cannot undo the fact that he has already given me more freedom in his silence than you ever gave me in your halls."
She took a shaky breath, her grip on Wonwoo’s hand tightening until her knuckles were white. "If he is a criminal for seeing me as a person, then so am I. If he goes to the dungeons, I will follow him. If he is exiled, I will walk beside him. You taught me that my life belongs to the crown, but tonight I am telling you that my heart belongs to him. You can keep the Princess, Father, but you will never truly have me back."
The King stood motionless, the flicker of the torches casting deep, unreadable shadows across his face.
The King stood motionless, the flicker of the torches casting deep shadows across his weathered face. He looked at his daughter, really looked at her, and saw not a political pawn, but a woman whose spirit he had nearly extinguished. He saw her hand gripped tightly in Wonwoo’s and realized that the "loyalty" he had demanded from his guard was nothing compared to the devotion Wonwoo had actually given her. The silence stretched, the guards waiting for a command to strike, but it never came.
"I have spent my life building walls to protect this kingdom," the King finally said, his voice losing its iron edge and sounding, for the first time, like that of a tired father. "I thought that by securing your future through alliances, I was protecting you as well. But standing here, seeing the way you look at him... I realize I have only succeeded in building a prison for my own child." He let out a long, heavy breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "If I force this, I lose my daughter. And if I lose you, what was the point of the kingdom?"
He signaled to the archers, and with a collective rustle of leather and wood, they lowered their crossbows. The King stepped forward, stopping just a few feet away. He looked Wonwoo in the eye, not with fury, but with a searching, heavy solemnity. "You say you know what her silence sounds like. You say you know the person beneath the crown. That is a burden heavier than any sword, soldier. If I allow this, you are no longer just a guard. You are the guardian of her happiness. If you fail her, there is no corner of this world where you can hide from me."
He turned back to Y/N, reaching out a hesitant hand to brush a stray hair from her forehead. "The alliance with the North will be difficult to mend, and the Council will scream for blood. There will be no secret flight into the woods tonight. If you want this man, you will have him, but you will do it properly. We will find a way to make him more than a soldier in the eyes of the court. It will take time, and it will be a scandal that tests us all, but I will not be the man who broke my daughter’s heart to save a border."
He looked at their joined hands and gave a small, weary nod. "Go back inside. Both of you. We have a great deal of work to do to explain why the Princess is marrying her shield instead of a Prince."
The transition from being hunted fugitives to an officially recognized couple happened with a dizzying speed that left the palace reeling. After the King’s public dismissal of the guards, the heavy atmosphere of the courtyard evaporated, replaced by the hushed whispers of the court. But for Y/N and Wonwoo, the noise of the world didn't matter. They were led not to a cell or a hidden path, but back to the private solar overlooking the moonlit gardens, the very place where their secret had lived in the shadows for so long.
As the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind them, the silence was no longer a weapon used against them; it was a sanctuary. For a long moment, they simply stood in the center of the room, the space between them finally free of the "three-pace rule." The torchlight from the hallway was gone, replaced by the soft, silver glow of the moon spilling across the floorboards. Wonwoo was the first to move. He unbuckled the heavy leather vambraces from his forearms, the metal clattering onto a side table, a sound of a soldier finally laying down his arms.
"It doesn't feel real," he whispered, his voice thick with a vulnerability he had never been allowed to show.
Y/N crossed the room, her silk skirts rustling like a long-held breath finally released. When she reached him, she didn't just take his hand; she leaned her forehead against his chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart. It was beating fast, matching her own. Wonwoo wrapped his arms around her, pulling her so close that the cold metal of his remaining armor was the only thing between them. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of jasmine in her hair, a scent he had inhaled from a distance for years, but could finally claim as his own.
The relief was a physical wave, washing away the exhaustion of the last few days. Wonwoo pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands sliding up to cradle her face. There was no urgency now, no four-minute timer, no shadow guards lingering in the doorway. He traced the line of her jaw with a slow, reverent thumb, his gaze lingering on her eyes as if confirming she was truly there. "For three years, I thought the only way I could love you was in the dark," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp. "I thought I would spend my whole life being the man who stood behind you, never the man who stood beside you."
Y/N reached up, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down until their lips were inches apart. "You were always beside me, Wonwoo. Even when you were standing at the door."
When they finally kissed, it was slow and deep, a silent vow exchanged in the moonlight. It wasn't the frantic, desperate kiss of a doomed couple; it was the quiet, steady beginning of a life lived in the light. They had a long road ahead, angry councilmen, broken treaties, and a court that would never truly forget, but as Wonwoo pulled her back into the safety of his embrace, Y/N knew that for the first time in her life, she wasn't just a Princess. She was home.
The walk to the royal chambers felt entirely different than it had for the last three years. Usually, Wonwoo followed several paces behind, his eyes scanning the corridors for threats, his presence a comfort but a distant one. Tonight, as they climbed the grand spiral staircase, his hand remained firmly in hers. There were still guards posted at the turns of the halls, but as the couple passed, the men didn't move to intervene; they simply lowered their heads in a new, uncertain kind of respect.
When they reached the heavy, gold-inlaid doors of her bedroom, Wonwoo paused. It was the threshold he had stood outside of for a thousand nights, guarding her sleep while he sat in the cold silence of the hallway. He looked at the handle, then back at Y/N, a trace of his old professional hesitation flickering in his eyes. Y/N smiled and tugged on their interlaced hands, an invitation to further break the boundary that the crown had set.
"I have spent three years imagining what it would be like to walk through this door with you," he whispered, his voice low and private. "And now that it’s open... I find I’m almost afraid to step inside. As if the dream might break."
Y/N didn't say a word. She simply squeezed his hand and pushed the door open.
The room was bathed in the warm, amber glow of a dying fire in the hearth. The scent of cedar and dried lavender hung in the air. As the door clicked shut behind them, the finality of the sound felt like a seal on their old lives. The palace, the King, and the looming scandal were all on the other side of that wood. Inside, there was only the soft crackle of the embers and the two of them.
Wonwoo turned to her, the firelight catching the sharp planes of his face and softening the intensity in his dark eyes. He reached out, his fingers slowly unlacing the heavy cloak from her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a pool of silk. He moved with a reverence that made her heart ache, his touch light as if he were handling something incredibly fragile.
"No more doors between us," he murmured, stepping into her space until their shadows merged against the far wall. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering there, his thumb brushing against her temple.
For the first time, he wasn't looking for assassins or listening for footsteps in the hall. He was only looking at her. He leaned down, his lips ghosting against her forehead before he pulled her into a slow, deep embrace. In the quiet of the room, far above the rest of the world, they finally let the weight of the crown and the sword fall away, ready to face the first night of a future they had finally earned.
In the quiet of her chambers, the adrenaline of the confrontation finally broke, and the reality of their survival crashed over her. Y/N looked up at Wonwoo, her eyes shimmering in the dying firelight, and a single, heavy tear escaped, tracing a slow path down her cheek. It wasn't a tear of sadness, but of a profound, overwhelming relief that had been three years in the making.
Wonwoo’s expression softened instantly, his heart aching at the sight. He reached out with a hand that had spent years gripped around the hilt of a sword, but now moved with the most delicate tenderness. Using the pad of his thumb, he caught the tear before it could reach her jaw, wiping it away with a lingering touch. He didn't pull his hand back; instead, he let his palm cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her skin as if to ensure she was truly real and truly safe.
"No more tears, Y/N," he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. "The fighting is over. We don't have to hide anymore."
He leaned down, his eyes searching hers for a brief second before he closed the distance. The kiss was slow and deep, a quiet anchor in the middle of their changing world. It tasted of salt and the lingering heat of the hearth, a soft promise that he was no longer just her guard, but her partner. As he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against him, the last of the tension left her body. In the safety of her room, with the world outside finally silenced, they stayed like that for a long time, two people who had finally found their way home.
Y/N wrapped her arms around Wonwoo’s neck to also pull him closer, before slightly pushing him towards her bed.
“Your Highness,” Wonwoo breathed against her lips, the habit of three years of service flickering in his voice even now.
But Y/N didn't let him finish. She pressed her fingers gently to his lips, shaking her head as a fresh tear of relief welled in her eyes.
“No titles,” she whispered, her voice a soft command that had nothing to do with royalty and everything to do with the woman she had finally become. “Just Y/N. From tonight on, it’s just Y/N and Wonwoo.”
Wonwoo let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. A small, genuine smile finally broke through his stoic mask, the kind of smile he had only ever saved for her in the shadows of the garden. He reached up, his thumb catching the tear on her cheek and wiping it away with a lingering, tender touch.
“Y/N,” he repeated, the name sounding like a prayer in the quiet room.
He leaned down again, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was no longer a secret, but a beginning. There were no ranks between them now, no barriers of stone or silk; there was only the steady heat of the fire and the two of them, finally whole.
When Y/N started fiddling with the latchings on his armor, his heart stuttered, “are you sure?” He asked, looking down at her with nothing but love in his eyes.
“I’ve been in love with you the moment you offered to carry that huge bread basket for me when we were children,” Y/N confessed in between pressing kisses all over his face. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Wonwoo chuckled at the confession and nodded before undoing the latches on his chestplate. Y/N watched him undo his left shoulder and when he was finished, undid the right for him. Letting the metal arm pieces fall to the ground. They worked together to take the rest of his armor off, from the chestplate to the leg pieces until there was just Wonwoo in the simple shirt and pants.
“There’s the boy I fell in love with,” Y/N sighed, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
Wonwo quickly moved his hands from cupping her jaw to the lace of her dress, trying his hardest to undo the laces without looking and not accidently knotting them.
Y/N chuckled and reached behind her own back to remove Wonwoo’s hands to undo the laces herself. Wonwoo’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment but went back to cupping her cheeks as she quickly undid the laces of her dress and then pushed the heavy fabric off her shoulders when it was loose enough, leaving her in a light frock.
He cupped her ass and slightly nudged her with his legs causing Y/N to lift both of her legs and let Wonwoo carry her while making his way toward the bed. Once he felt his legs hit the edge of the bed, he gently lowered her onto the bed.
Y/N gasped when he disconnected their lips and slowly started kissing all over her face. Her nose, her eyes, her forehead, then started moving down towards her jaw and neck. She sighed, reveling in his attention and moved her hands from around his neck to in his hair.
Wonwoo groaned, when she started pulling on his hair when he started pressing kisses to her collarbone and started pushing the straps of her frock off her shoulders and slowly pulling it down to reveal her chest.
“You’ve always been beautiful,” Wonwoo confessed, his voice dropping to a low, rough velvet that made her heart skip. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes tracing every curve of her face in the firelight as if he were seeing her clearly for the very first time. “But tonight, here with the truth between us... you’ve never looked more like yourself. And that is what I’ve always been in love with.”
Y/N felt a fresh wave of warmth spread through her chest, her fingers tightening in his hair as he peppered kisses along her chest and stomach.
Wonwoo looked up in between kisses to her nipples to watch her glistening face melt at the pleasure he was giving her, before giving a particular harder suck to her left nipple. She let out a moan and tightened her grip on his hair.
“Wonwoo,” she panted as his hand went to spread her legs and started moving his kisses lower. She finally let go of his hair so he could move further down her body, grasping the bed sheets feeling him settle between her legs.
“I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here,” Wonwoo said, pressing kisses against her hip bones. “If anything doesn’t feel right, tell me.”
Y/N nodded, and reached down to lace her hand with his, “You weren’t out bedding every maiden that looked your way?”
Wonwoo scoffed and squeezed her hand, “I was sworn to celibacy when I became your knight, lest you forget.”
Y/N chuckled, and squeezed his hand back, “I trust you Wonwoo.”
Wonwoo smiled up at her before moving his other hand to her hip to keep her in place and lowering his lips to her core.
He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but the other knights had shared stories about pleasuring women. They talked about tasting women and the sounds that they made, so he knew that the moans Y/N was making when he was kissing her earlier was what should happen as well.
He started licking through her folds, tasting the arousal that was nestled between her legs, and noticed that the spot at the top of her mound made her moan the most. He moved his attention towards the top of her cunt and started rubbing his tongue in circles feeling her whimper and buck her hips gently.
“Does this feel good love?” He asked, the vibration of his low voice causing waves of arousal shoot through her body, causing her to wrap her legs around his shoulders, locking him in place.
He switched between rubbing her sex and sucking the pebble before she squeezed their interlocked hands again.
“It feels good Wonwoo,” she trembled, hips stuttering before releasing all over his face. Wonwoo continued licking her through her release, eager to taste every last drop of her.
“You taste devine,” he praised, running his tongue all around her, triggering another build up. “Can you do it again for me? Please?”
Y/N whined, tightening her legs around his head, the overstimulation on her clit turning from discomfort to pleasure again. After a few more hard sucks to her mound she fell apart on his tongue again, back arching this time and moved her free hand to try and pry his head away from her in case he wanted another orgasm.
Wonwoo licked his lips, not wanting to waste a single drop of her arousal before slowly kissing his way back up her body. A kiss to her kip, below her belly button, her rib, below her breasts, her nipple, her sternum, her jaw, and then finally her lips.
She moaned into his mouth, not used to the sweet taste of what she could only assume was herself, before tugging his shirt off him.
Wonwoo’s training had done him well. He was no longer the skinny baker's boy she had known in their youth; he had grown into all his features quite well. His chest was broad, a testament to the grueling years spent on the training grounds and the heavy toll of his duties, his shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of her safety for years, and the solid muscle of his arms provided a sense of security that no stone wall ever could. The lean, awkward teenager had been replaced by a man of formidable presence, forged by the discipline of the guard and the silent fire of his devotion to her.
She ran her hands across his chiseled chest, before tugging on his pants. He chuckled, and nodded sitting back to take them off.
As she watched him remove his pants and reveal his cock. Y/N’s cheeks flushed at the size of him, as Wonwoo's breath also hitched at the cool air flooding the room from the open window. He leaned back down over her, interlacing one of their hands together and pinning them by her head. His other hand went back between her legs to make sure she was wet enough to take him without any pain.
When his hand came in contact with her wetness he lined himself up with her before looking back up into her eyes.
“I love you,” he softly smiled, connecting their lips before slowly pushing himself into her.
“I love you too,” she sighed, trying to adjust to his size. Wonwoo winced, as Y/N tried to adjust to his size, clenching his cock a few times, panting heavily, rubbing her hard nipples against his own, and holding onto his bicep.
Once Wonwoo was all the way in her, Y/N moaned, and squeezed his bicep harder. Wonwoo groaned at how tight she was, before pushing his hips back, taking a second to catch his breath and rocking his hips back into hers.
Y/N threw her head back into the pillows as Wonwoo continued to move, the pleasure building up in her stomach before she gently put her hands onto his chest, asking him to stop.
“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, a concerned look spreading across his face.
Y/N batted her eye lashes up at him before turning onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows and knees, the sheets catching under her. Wonwoo groaned before leaning over her and interlocking their hands again before sliding back into her. This time thrusting into her harsher.
“I’m close,” Y/N panted against the pillows. Wonwoo would have almost missed it, if he wasn’t so focused on the noises she was making. He smiled and squeezed their interlocked hands before moving to cup her breast and squeezing her nipple.
The stimulation was enough to cause Y/N to climax, her walls fluttering around his cock, causing Wonwoo to also climax, emptying himself into her. As Wonwoo’s climax finished, he smiled and slowly pulled out of her, pressing kisses along her spine as she stayed propped up on her elbows and knees to catch her breath.
Once he finally noticed that her breath was evening out, he laid down beside her, arms under his head to look up at her glowing face. Her eyes were closed, but she was smiling. He chuckled and reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Where did you learn all of that Sir Wonwoo?” She panted, finally opening up her eyes and slowly moved her legs so that she was laying on her stomach. She turned her head toward him to see him reaching towards the floor to grab something off the ground before coming up with a rag to wipe her down.
“I have only heard stories from the other knights I trained with. Although they never told me how the deed is done, they did tell me what their lovers enjoyed,” he smirked.
Y/N smiled, rolling on to her back so he could clean between her legs, before spreading them. “Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining. More so in awe of how good it felt for our first times.”
Wonwoo carefully opened her legs and gently pressed the rag between her legs, dabbing the remaining release from between them and pressing a kiss to her clit.
Y/N gasped, at the contact before nudging him with her foot. “Give me some time to recover.”
Wonwoo chuckled, “sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
He moved back up to lay beside her, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. With a gentle, inviting smile, he patted his broad chest, signaling for her to lay on top of him. Y/N didn’t hesitate; she shifted closer, resting her head against the steady thrum of his heart and draping her arm across his torso, finally feeling the warmth she had only been allowed to imagine for years.
“I can’t believe that we get to be together,” she whispered, her voice muffled against the soft fabric of his tunic. The words felt fragile, as if saying them too loudly might wake her from a dream. “For so long, I thought the only way I could keep you safe was to keep you away. I thought our lives would always be lived in glances and whispers.”
Wonwoo’s hand found her hair, his fingers stroking the tresses with a slow, rhythmic grace that acted as a balm to her nerves. “The wait is over, Y/N,” he murmured, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek as he spoke. “No more hallways between us. No more watching you walk away into rooms I wasn’t allowed to enter.”
He tilted his head down, resting his chin atop her hair, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist to hold her flush against him. In the quiet of the room, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and their synchronized breathing. The baker’s boy who had become a soldier, and the Princess who had become a woman, were finally just two souls sharing a bed and a future.
“We have the rest of our lives for it to feel real,” Wonwoo promised, his voice a low, steady anchor in the dark. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
The palace was no longer a labyrinth of secrets, but a home filled with the sound of celebration. The scent of orange blossoms and expensive wine lingered in the air, drifting up from the courtyard where the kingdom was still toasted to the health of the newly titled Consort and his Princess. But inside the royal chambers, the heavy oak doors had been shut against the world, finally granting the couple the one thing they had fought the hardest for: a moment of absolute peace.
The transition from a disgraced guard to the Grand Commander of the Royal Guard was a transformation that changed the very foundation of the kingdom. The King, recognizing that no man was more capable of defending the crown than the one who loved its heir, officially placed the silver seal of the Knights into Wonwoo’s hand. He was no longer the skinny baker’s boy or the silent shadow; he had become the kingdom’s most formidable pillar. His broad chest now filled out the midnight-blue velvet and silver-plated armor of his station, a physique forged by years of discipline and the heavy weight of a responsibility he took with absolute gravity.
Under Wonwoo’s leadership, the atmosphere of the palace shifted. He replaced the atmosphere of surveillance with one of brotherhood, training a new generation of knights who looked at him with the same reverence the common people did. In the war room, he sat at the King’s right hand, his directness as a soldier cutting through the political noise of the Council. He had become a man of such presence that the Northern factions no longer dared to test the borders; they knew the Princess was guarded by a man who had already proven he would face death for her.
The ceremony had been a masterclass in royal spectacle, yet for Wonwoo, it felt like a dream occurring in slow motion. As he stood at the altar in his formal whites, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass caught the sharp, handsome lines of his face. When Y/N walked down the long stone aisle, the room fell into a hush that wasn't born of protocol, but of genuine awe. She wasn't just a Princess being wed; she was a woman reclaiming her life. When they finally stood face-to-face, Wonwoo didn't wait for the priest's prompting. He reached out and took her hands, his large, calloused fingers enveloping hers with a grounding strength that said, I have you.
The reception had followed with endless toasts and the clinking of crystal, but the true wedding happened in the small, stolen glances they shared across the high table. Every time a lord addressed him as "Lord Consort" or "Commander," Wonwoo would feel a phantom weight of his old armor, but then he would feel Y/N’s knee brush against his under the table, anchoring him. They danced once—a slow, sweeping waltz that cleared the floor. In that moment, with his hand on the small of her back and her hand on his broad shoulder, the "patterns" of their love were on display for the whole kingdom to see. They moved as one, a seamless harmony that proved their souls had been married long before the rings were ever exchanged.
Now, hours later, the echoes of the cheers had finally faded, replaced by the crackle of the fire in their private suite. Wonwoo finished unbuckling the last of his formal gear, the heavy silver-trimmed cloak hitting the chair with a dull thud. He stood in his simple linen undershirt, his chest broad and rising steadily with his breath as he looked at Y/N by the hearth. The transition from the public hero to the private husband was visible in the way his shoulders finally dropped, the tension of the day melting away.
He moved toward her, his bare feet silent on the rugs. He didn't say a word as he reached her; he simply wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back against the solid warmth of his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the lingering scent of her wedding perfume and the familiar, sweet warmth of her skin. "I thought the day would never end," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against her back. "I spent the whole night wanting to spirit you away from the crowds and bring you back here, where it’s just us. I think,” Wonwoo began, his voice raspy from a day of formal vows and political pleasantries, “that if I had to shake one more Duke’s hand or hear one more toast about 'border stability,' I might have actually seized the crown and run for the hills.”
Y/N laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet room. She stepped toward him, reaching up to help him with the stubborn silver fastenings at his throat. “And here I thought the Grand Commander was supposed to have infinite patience. You looked so stoic at the altar, Wonwoo. Like a statue carved from marble.”
“I wasn't being stoic,” he admitted, his hands coming up to rest on her waist, pulling her flush against his broad chest. “I was terrified that if I moved too quickly or breathed too loud, the illusion would shatter. I kept waiting for a guard to tap me on the shoulder and tell me to get back to my post at the door.”
He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathed her in. “But then you took my hand, and your skin was so warm. That was when I knew it was real.”
Y/N leaned back just enough to look at him, her fingers tracing the sharp, familiar line of his jaw. “No more posts at the door, Wonwoo. From now on, you’re the one inside the room. With me.”
“It’s a strange promotion,” he murmured with a small, lopsided smirk, the one he only ever showed her. “I went from guarding your life to being your life. I think I prefer the new title.”
“And what title is that?” she teased, her heart thudding against her ribs as his grip on her waist tightened.
Wonwoo didn't answer with words at first. He swept her up into his arms, his strength effortless as he carried her toward the bed. He laid her down against the silk pillows before settling beside her, patting his chest in that silent, sacred invitation. Once she was tucked against him, her head rising and falling with his breath, he whispered into her hair.
“Just Wonwoo,” he said softly. “Your Wonwoo.”
“That’s the only one I ever wanted,” she replied, closing her eyes as the peace of their new life finally settled over them both
summary: you really shouldn't be falling for your (way too hot) knight. especially now that the fate of your entire kingdom depends on your lovelife
cw: mentions of death, cannibalism, age gap (reader is 20, Toji in his 30s), light PTSD, curse!sukuna, arranged marriage, Naoya Zenin, nsfw, mentions of war, slight angst (comfort), oral (fem receiving), spitting, pussydrunk Toji, p in v, unprotected sex
The confines of your room felt as empty as ever. The happy people on the paintings were mocking you with their joyful expressions, the piles of books that all ended happily were just a cruel reminder that happy endings don´t exist.
Your canopy bed had turned into a little sanctuary, silver and red woven sheets clinging around your body like an armor to keep you from the outside world.
You hadn´t left your room in a week now. You´ve barely eaten, yet alone talked to anyone. The servants were growing worried, yet your parents probably didn´t even notice. He had been just another pawn to them anyway.
Your hair was put up, your maid´s handiwork since she wanted to prevent it from tangling too much. You were in simple underarments.
Everything else felt too heavy, too suffocating. Like the weight of all that happened suddenly crushed down onto your shoulders again, stealing your breath until your lungs were screaming for you to stop choking yourself into the pillow.
A knock.
Your head jerked up at the sound. Your maids never knocked usually. They entered silently, fed you and left again, sliding through the room like shadows, not daring to make a single sound in case it would startle you too much.
Reluctantly you slid out of bed, the ave of coldness embracing you whole, leaving goosebumps all over the wake of your skin.
The wooden door felt heavier than you had remembered. You pushed it with all your force and suddenly it just opened.
Your eyes widened as you stumbled forward, the sudden force of your door opening making you lose your balance, yet a pair of big hands caught you before you could seriously trip.
"Whoa, easy there, your highness"
Your eyes flicked up to see the carrier of the deep voice that had just adressed you.
A downright huge man stood in front of you, crooked grin on his face as he steadied you up. Raven black strands of hair fell across his face, dark emerald eyes locked onto yours.
Your eyes slowly moved down his face, lingering on a scar in the corner of his mouth for a split second. He seemed familiar. Almost too familiar.
He released you as you took a step back, composing yourself.
"Toji Fushiguro, your royal highness. I am your new personal guard" as he bowed deep to you, your eyes fell to his katana.
So this was his replacement. It made your stomach churn, just how fast they found someone new.
You swallowed hard, throat dry from the lack of voice usage those past days.
"Fushiguro", you simply repeated as the mountain of a man got up from his deep bow, his eyes meeting yours with a scary intensity, like he was staring right into the depths of your soul.
You didn´t like that at all, a shiver running down your spine.
"Do you need anything, your highness? Or shall I just watch over from here now?" he asked as he stood in the exact spot he used to stand. It agitated you, seeing him just taking that place like he owned it.
"No. Good night" You snapped, turning away to get back into your bed.
Working for the royal family had sounded nicer than it turned out to be. For once Toji didn´t expect to become the princesse´s personal guard within three days of getting out of training.
But also nothing could´ve prepared him for the coldness he was met with. During his time in trainig people had talked about how kind hearted the princess was.
Yet in the two months of working for you, you had barely even looked his way, let alone even talked to him. At first he had tried getting to know you, but after a week or two it all just fell into a rhythm.
He greeted you when you woke up, left for his meetings at noon, escorted the princess to the bathingquarters and eventually left once you were asleep.
Yet not even in your mourinng state you could outrun your responsibilities and so you found yourself in th town, wearing one of the lighter gowns you owned, hair put up in an artful updo your maid, Utahime, had made you.
This was your first public appearance after the incident.The streets seemed unfamiliar, the people different and the atmosphere thicker.
Toji followed you in silence, throwing glares at everyone who dared to look at you weird, his hand always at the hilt of his sword, black mask covering the lower half of his face, strands of his coal black hair hanging into his eyes.
His mission was clear. Escort the princess through town, make sure she´s safe and if you see a cursed spirit- kill it.
Easier said than done. In the last couple years the number of cursed spirits had trippled in the kingdome, ever since the peace between the royal family and the Zenin clan was broken and they had pulled back their support to the army.
The royal guards could rarely keep up with the monstrosities tormenting their land and so casualties happened way more often than they used to.
You walked through the alleys like it was routine. You forced smiles, nodding and waving as the folks of the town greeted you, yet you couldn´t focus. Not really.
Your chest felt tighter again, like the air was slowly being taken right from your lungs.
You had reached the outskirts of town. Your final stop before you could finally head back into the safety of your chamber. Just a few more people to greet, a few more smiles to-
You froze. Your stomach churned as you stared ahead.
"Fushiguro", you managed to choke out. "They´re dead"
Toji´s emerald eyes were wide as he slowly drew his sword. A pile of corpses lay on the grand square of this part in town, all torn open. Guts everywhere, limbs missing.
This was not a human´s work.
An inhumane screech filled the silence. Without even thinking Toji pushed you into the nearest open house, slamming the door shut.
A curse was staring at him. A human like creature with four arms, two faces and a mouth on his stomach which he was currently stuffing with someone´s corpse, ruby eyes locked onto Toji.
*If you see a cursed spirit, kill it* Toji took a deep breath before charging at the curse.
It was brutal, the way this creature fought. Long claws tore the fabric of his haori, slicing into his flesh. Toji jerked back before any serious damage could be done.
Four arms were just too many. So instead of trying to land critical hits he started aiming for the curse´s shoulders. Sweat dripped down his skin, his movements blurring into a frantic flow in which he couldn´t tell if he was even still alive.
The house he had pushed you into smelled like death. You hadn´t dared to move or even breathe. You could hear the curse´s screeching from outside.
Had he killed Fushiguro? You knew you had to help him. You couldn´t live through this again. No, this time you´d stop it.
After looking around in the room you found an old sword. Your fingers wrapped around it securely before you opened the door.
Your eyes took a second to adjust to the brightness outside. A figure stood on the square, bending down to pick something up. It was Fushiguro.
Relief flooded you as you dropped the sword, running over to your guard. He turned around at the sound of steps, his reserved gaze softening as he recognized you.
In his hand he held an arm, a muscular tattooed one- it was the curse´s.
Your eyes suddenly fell to his white haori. A deep scarlet red had spread across the material around his chest, the stain slowly spreading. You froze. No.
"You´re bleeding", you gasped, staring straight at his chest.
Toji followed your gaze, grimacing: "It´s just a scratch, don´t- ah, fuckk" a low groan left his throat as he accidentaly grazed the wound with the curse´s chopped off arm.
Your eyes widened as you watched him slumping down, clutching his stomach as he dropped the detatched limp.
"Toji", his first name left your lips before you could process what was happening. Nononono not again. You hurried over to him, the slick sound of blood sticking to your shoes making you want to just vomit.
When you reached him you didn´t hesitate to undo the haori, pushing the fabric back so you could fist the shirt he wore beneath, pulling it up. His hands helped you weakly, tossing the fabric over his head.
In another situation he would´ve looked beautiful, chisled muscles covered in a thin layer of sweat, scars sattered all across his torso.
And then there was the deep gash in the middle of his chest leaking blood everywhere. The fractured skin seemed to be pulsing. It was a deep cut. Fataly deep.
You inhaled shakily, your fingers finding his hand without really thinking. He couldn´t die. No, you couldn´t let this happen again.
"Toji, it´s bad", you whispered, feeling his fingers weakly squeeze yours as he gave you that shit eating grin once more.
"I´m gonna die, won´t I?", he finall asked quietly, looking up at you, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. You shook your head, fealing the tears pricking in your eyes. Fuck it, you had to do *something*.
Your fingers found the gash shakily, carefully grazing the angry red skin as you closed your eyes.
You didn´t understand how your cursed technique worked or what cursed energy really was. But the palace´s doctor, Ieri Shoko had told you, you could save lives if you really tried.
And so there you were, desperately trying to save Toji. You didn´t dare to open your eyes. What if he was dead?
You couldn´t lose another life. Finally you carefully peaked through your lashes. The world was blurry, or was it just your eyes?
Toji felt his consciousness slowly slipping through his hand, his life seeping through his fingers like sand. With a deep exhale he closed his eyes. At least he´d die serving his princess.
The warmth that spread through his chest was unlike anything he´s ever felt before. Did dying feel like this?
He welcomed it more than expected. Suddenly a cold hand came in contact with his face, the slap ringing in his ears. Toji´s eyes opened, looking around disoriented.
This wasn´t death. He was laying on that same square, blood all around him- his chest didn´t hurt anymore.
You were staring at him, breathless. You did it. You actually saved his life. A smile touched your lips before you could stop it, your arms wrapping around his neck in a crushing hug.
His breath was knocked out of his chest for a second as he sat there startled and still very much shirtless, not sure how to responf to the royal heir hugging him.
But your body felt so.. warm against his. Like it fit. Like it belonged.
His arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer so he could rest his head on top of yours, stealing a whiff of the way you smelled like peaches and sweet vanilla, strands of your hair tickling his nose softly.
Your face was pressed against into the crook of his neck, his hand running up and down the small of your back in a soothing motion while you both tried processing what had just happened.
Eventually he shifted, looking down at you. His eyes looked even more beautiful closer up.
No, you shouldn´t be thinking this. Not about him.
"How´d you do it?" he asked quietly and suddenly you were hyper aware of how close his lips were to his. You could make out the lines of the scar on his mouth clearer than ever, the cut in his flesh moving as he spoke.
"I´m not sure. I think I might´ve used a reverse cursed technique on you. You know, like the ones Shoko uses?"
A weak chuckle escaped Toji as he shook his head, his lips forming a crooked grin.
"Well that´s something, your highness. Never knew healing was one of the Gojo familie´s techniques. You must be the first Gojo heir to do.. this"
His downright *huge* hand suddenly moved to yours, calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist, holding your palm up like a trophy.
In the light of a slowly setting sun the marks covering the skin became visible, brandings that you had since your birth, indicators of strong cursed energy that coursed through your family.
Your gaze flicked up to his eyes, your breath catching halfway through your throat.
His gaze was filled with wonder, green eyes big as he glanced over at you.
You could feel his breath hit your lips and suddenly he wasn´t just your knight anymore. He was.. Toji.
"Your highness!" the voice of the royal officier, Suguru Geto, called as he rushed over from the fields where the rest of his men were positioned.
Toji straightened up, saluting to his commander, ignoring that his shirt was still discarded to the floor, forcing a small smile onto your face as you got up as well.
"Fushiguro, report", Geto commanded as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, escorting you back to some of his men, Nanami, Higuruma and Shiu.
"Special grade curse spotted, sir. He slaughtered the citizens of this district, sir. I was able to secure one of its limbs and it ran off into the forest. Her highness is safe"
You just nodded while Nanami carefully offered you his hand, leading you to the royal chariet.
"Higuruma, arrange troups to cover the region. Search every square inch for that thing. Shiu, contact the Zenins, ask if they knew something about this. Don´t mention the casualties yet. I just bet Naobito would love to hear about this" Geto ordered around while reaching a jacket to Toji, helping him cover up.
Toji´s eyes followed your movements until you dissapeared with Nanami.
"You think this is the Zenin´s work?", he asked, looking over at Suguru.
The man with the long, black hair shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from his face.
"It could be. You know how the situation´s been recently. Their heir seems to be even worse than his father. It´s only a matter of time before they decide to do something reckless."
The news came faster than anyone could´ve expected. The royal family of the Zenin´s had officially declared war upon the Gojo royalties. You sat in your room, holding the declaration in your shaky palms.
There it was written, they´d unleash a bunch of curses if your family even as much as tried doing something with your cursed enery.
Your older brother, Satoru, had been busy negotiating with the messenger for days now, still with no success.
Your eyes flicked up as the heavy door to your room opened once again. Toji came in, shutting the heavy wood behind himself before getting in position.
"Your highness" he bowed, one hand at his katana while his other brushed a strand of hair from his eyes.
"You´ve heard the news already, haven´t you?", you asked finally, voice quieter than what he was used to. Toji´s head jerked up, his gaze softening as it met yours.
"Yes, indeed, your highness. I am just hoping that his royal highness will be able to talk some sense into them"
You just nodded, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown.
"Yeah, Toru´s got a way with words. I just hope they don´t send some old guys in there. He absolutely hates the elders." a small chuckle escaped you as you finally put the declaration away onto your nightstand.
"How´s your chest, Fushiguro?", you looked up at Toji, pretending not to notice the way his eyes fell to the deep cut of your nightgown for a split second.
The man swallowed hard, quickly averting his gaze to your eyes.
"It´s healing. Thanks to you, your highness" a soft smile grazed his mouth, scarred lips turning upwards.
You could feel relief washing through you. Toji had spent the past few days in the hospice wing, meaning Geto himself had to watch over your chambers, something both of you weren´t used to at all.
Geto was made to rule and command, not to watch over some princesse´s sleep.
With Toji it was easier. You weren´t scared of snoring or falling off your bed when he was there. At the same time Geto would laugh about it with your brother.
So seeing him in your room again.. it felt comfortable. Ever since you had been to the town with him things had changed.
You actually stopped being so cold towards him, letting him in sometimes. His past was still a mystery to you.
Suddenly the door flew open, Takuma Ino, one of the guards still being educated, stood there, heavily panting.
"Your royal highness, his majesty wants to speak you. There are news concerning the Zenin´s"
Toji would never get used to how huge the throne room was in comparison to where he came from.
Silver elements snaked over the marbel pillars until reaching the Gojo familie´s crest above the actual throne´s, a very upset Satoru arguing with his parents between the stools when you came in.
"I can´t believe you´re actually considering this. It´s insane. Just let me use my technique on them, seriously!", your brother complained, stopping once he saw you.
"What´s going on?", you demanded to kow. Your father sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"My dearest daughter, there has been a breakthrough in the negotiation with the Zenin´s. You see-"
"They want you to marry their son, Naoya."
The silence that followed was louder than Utahime´s gasp, who just happened to be walking by. Toji had tensed up, taking a step towards the king.
"Your majesty, with all due respect, you can´t be honestly considering to agree to those terms. It´s just inhumane"
To your surprise Satoru nodded along, glancing up at your father.
"You can´t just force her into this. It´s wrong"
Yet the king wasn´t having it. He simply shook his head, sighing heavily, like this was burdening him.
"You know we don´t have a choice, besides, you should find a suitable husband anyway. With the Zenin´s son you could birth a powerful heir to both kingdoms and maybe finally establish the peace. Besides, your mother and I also got married for political benefits and it worked out just fine"
You could only listen to half of what he was saying. You felt like the air was knocked from your chest, this had to be some sort of cruel joke.
Your eyes flicked over to Toji helplessy just to be met with his gaze, mirroring your despair.
You swallowed hard, adjusting your hair slightly before stepping forward.
"If this is what it takes to prevent the war from happening, then I shall meet him in person and discuss further terms. Satoru, tell Haibara to arrange a meeting by next week", you finally concluded, trying your best not to look in Toji's direction.
You were signing away your freedom if you went through with this, but what choice did you really have?
"Very well. Satoru, I'll join you in the rest of the negotiation. Fushiguro, escort her back to her room" the king threw you a weak smile before turning to your fuming brother.
Toji's had brushed your waist as he started walking back out of the hall, leading you with him through seemingly endless stone halls, every single one of your steps dragging.
The reality of the situation was only starting to sink in. You would have to marry Naoya Zenin and that probably soon.
You still had your whole life to live, it was far too early to give up your freedom for a man you´d never met before.
All your life you had known you'd have to marry someone wealthy and of status. You just never expected for it to happen this soon.
Toji was silent, the only sound in the hallway coming from your shoes clicking against the stone floor. His hand hadn't left your waist yet, his touch both grounding, yet it also reminded you that you'd be trapped soon.
No more of whatever this was. No more lingering glances with your guard. God, it was so wrong to even think this. But part of you had wanted Toji Fushiguro ever since he had walked into your room for the first time.
Everything about him was forbidden, dangerous even.
The way his eyes would linger for too long, the way his hand would brush yours in an almost tentalizing manner.
The little twitch of his scarred lip whenever he saw you, the softness of his gaze whenever you spoke to him.
Toji Fushiguro was doomed.
Throughly.
His eyes kept avoiding yours, not wanting to see the hurt between those wide blown pupils. He fucking hated this. You had just started getting along and now you were supposed to get married to some bum?
Sure, he knew he never stood a chance. You were royality after all. But when you reached the door to your room and those hurting eyes met his- all resolve crumbled like sand.
"You shouldn´t have to do this.", he huffed quietly, looking down at you, his deep green eyes so, so soft.
"But I do. I can´t just let a war happen, all because I didn´t marry him. It´s a sacrifice worth making." You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself, which really, you were.
Toji clearly wasn´t buying it as he whispered your name, two calloused fingers suddenly tilting up your chin, making your breathing hitch.
"Bullshit. You should be able to live without all of this. Without all that burden. You don´t owe these people shit, alright? It´s not your fault they fucked up their relation with the Zenins."
You felt your heart clenching as he spoke, finding yourself leaning into his touch almost involuntarily, sad eyes finding his through your lashes.
"Why do you care, Fushiguro?"
"Fuck, I don´t know, okay? But I do care, way more than I should" the desperation in his eyes was heavily evident as he looked down, his fingers flexing against your skin.
A soft huff of laugter left your lips as your fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was almost cute, seeing him all clueless for the first time.
"Careful, Fushiguro. I might think you´re falling for me"
"I´d be doomed if I was, wouldn´t I?"
"Oh, absolutely"
You didn´t know who initiated it, but his mouth was on yours now, hands on the back of your neck pulling you against his body.
You felt like you were melting into him. Your fingers ran up into his hair, wrapping around the raven strands while his lips devoured you in the most gentle way you could´ve imagined.
The way his tongue brushed your bottom lip drew a gasp while you stumbled back to your room, keeping him as close as you could.
You´d face the consequences later. Right now all you needed was your guard´s body against yours, lips meeting in a worshipping manner.
He pulled back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours, swallowing hard while he glanced down at you.
"God, your highness. You´re so beautiful", he choked out before grabbing your hips, pulling you flush against him while his mouth dove right onto yours again.
A strangled moan escsped your throat as you tugged at his hair, getting on your tiptoes to grant yourself better access to him.
"Toji-" a knock at the door made your heart skip a beat as Toji quickly let go of you, straightening up as the wooden pannel opened, Utahime coming in with a small bow.
"Your highness, it´s time for your nightly routine" she looked up through her bangs, yet you couldn´t even say something right now. Did she hear you straight up moaning out your guard´s name?
Toji cleared his throat, leaving like he always did when Utahime came in, shutting the heavy door behind himself.
It had been three days since you kissed your guard.
Three days since you had felt that scarred lip move against yours, since you felt your name leave his lips as a whisper against your mouth.
It had been all you could think about, his body against yours consuming your thoughts every second of the day.
And Toji?
Toji was just gone. Missing, he left without a trail. Commander Geto was now assigned to watch over you for good. He had just walked into your room one night, without any big announcements or explanaitions.
And you knew better than to ask about a guard you´ve known for a few months.
Days passed in a blur and you could feel yourself missing him more and more. He had probably run off in fear of someone finding out about what had happened.
His head would be on a stake if the king knew. A few days after the incident you got word back from the Zenins, arranging a meeting between you and your (unfortunately) future husband, Naoya.
You only had two days left until you´d have to meet him, until you would finally sign away your freedom for good.
You were strolling through the gardens aimlessly, kicking pebbles with your far too expesive shoes. Why did he have to leave when you needed him most? Maybe it had been a mistake after all, yet the lingering taste of him on your mouth had been worth every troule faced on the way.
You had already considered sending a troup out to look for him, but what would that bring you other than drawing unneccesary attention to Toji? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The gardens of the palace stretched all around the buildings, a peaceful haven compared to what was happening in the outskirts of town.
No curses had managed to enter these sacred rounds, ever. You heard it had something to do with your brother. The only reason Satoru wasn't the one being forced into marriage, was that he was promised to be more than a king.
He would be the kingdom's greatest weapon one day, the six eyes.
Growing up you and him would always play in these very gardens until your parents decided it was too dangerous for him to play fight with someone and he was taken away to some sort of school for three years.
You stopped at your favorite flowers, taking a second to really admire them. The world around you changed constantly, but they never did.
A muffled groan caught your attention as you quickly lifted your head, looking around. Were you already imagining things?
No, there was clearly someone here. Another sound came from- the garden shed.
You carefully made your way over to the wooden construction, trying not to make a single sound before opening the door with all your force.
You froze.
Between old gardening equipment and empty shelves there was commander Geto, making out with- your brother.
Both Satoru and you let out a shocked gasp as you locked eyes. You covered your mouth with your hand. What was happening?
Geto quickly took a step back, adjusting his half unbuttoned tunic and cleared his throat.
"Your highness" he casually bowed, like he hadn´t been on your brother just seconds ago.
You nodded slowly. "So this is a thing now?"
"Yes, your highness."
Satoru finally took a step forward, azure eyes wide. "Promise you won´t tell anyone. Please, sis" he whispered, desperate look plastered across his face.
You just nodded again. "I won't tell anyone, I promise", you finally managed to get out before taking a step back and taking a deep breath. Now that was definetly unexpected.
Ever since you caught Suguru and Satoru in the gardening shed the atmosphere had shifted.
Geto was suddenly way nicer to you, always asking about your day and offering to take you to town. And with only one day remaining until you'd have to meet Naoya, you finally agreed.
Geto had escorted you to the market on the big town square.
Countless traders had arrived from all over Japan, offering baked goods, coats made from fur, talismans that were supposed to scare curses away and so much more.
You strolled around, talking to some of the vendors. At one of th stalls your bought some fresh fruit, another woman talked you into buying a silver hairpin with dark red gems that she gladly put into your hair herself, very much not to Geto's liking.
You had just finished trying on a coat made from wolf's pelt when suddenly you spotted a kid sitting on the stone floor all alone.
Without really hesitating you walked over, crouching down besides the little boy.
He had black spiky hair and dark blue eyes that looked over at you, neutral expression all over his pale face.
"Hey buddy. Where are your parents?", you asked softly. The kid let out a cough before shrugging.
"My Mommy is dead. And Papa is at home"
Oh. Poor kid.
"What's your name? Do you want me to help you get home?", you offered, carefully brushing the black spikes back. God, the kid's skin was burning. He was definitely sick.
The boy nodded, getting up, his knees wobbling slightly.
"Yeah, please. I´m Megumi"
You nodded, quickly waving Geto over. He picked up the boy while you quickly fetched some medicine from a vendor's stall.
Megumi was able to tell Geto where he lived and with the help of an older lady, who just happened to be his neighbour, you quickly found the small house he lived in.
You ordered Suguru to wait by the fence while you carried Megumi to the front door, knocking firmly. You could hear something shuffling inside and when the door flew open your jaw dropped.
You were face to face with Toji.
The same Toji that was your guard, the same Toji that had kissed you just a few days ago. He didn't seem any less shocked, green eyes wide.
"Your highness" he quickly bowed deep, his eyes falling onto Megumi as he straightened back up.
"You never told me you have a son", you simply said, carefully handing Megumi to him.
"Do you really think it's okay to leave your sick kid all alone in the middle of town?", you scolded angrily.
"I didn't, I swear. He snuck out. I've been searching for him everywhere. I'm sorry, your highness"
Maybe it was something about the dark circles beneath his eyes that you hadn't seen before, maybe it was the way his tone softened, but you chose to believe him.
You handed him the herbs you had bought at the market, clearing your throat.
"This should help him."
You had to be an angel, he didn't doubt that even the slightest bit. His hand closed around the small bundle you had handed him as he nodded, his eyes gradually softening.
"Do you want to come in? I know, it's not fancy or anything, but I could offer you some tea", he offered as he cradled Megumi's head carefully. You nodded, glancing back at Geto. Nah, he'd be fine.
Toji's home was indeed nothing fancy, but it felt comfortable either way.
The broad man took up most of the space in the tiny living room, Megumi seeming even smaller against his arms. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll just quickly put him to bed", Toji said with a small nod towards the brownish couch, some comforters scattered over the pillows.
You watched as he carried his son upstairs before you finally sat down. His house smelled like leather and something citrusy, some toys scattered on the floor.
Toji's katana was hung on the wall next to a clothingrack carrying his haori.
You were so invested in looking around his living room that you didn't even notice him coming back, only when you felt his weight besides you making the couch dip did you look over at him.
He was wearing grey Tobi pants and some black shirt, his black hair messy.
"Thanks for everything. I mean it. I was worried sick where the little brat was once again", he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Also, sorry for just disappearing. Especially after what- you know, what happened in the palace."
You swallowed hard as he put his calloused hand on your shoulder softly, you could feel his warmth seeping through the layers of clothes you were wearing.
"Why'd you just go? The kiss doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, Toji. But still-"
"No, it's not like that. I swear it isn't. I was going nuts after what happened. God, I couldn't think of anything else. Still can't. But when I came home that night I found Gumi all sick. I told Shiu that I'm calling in sick, but I guess that asshole just conveniently forgot to mention"
So he hadn't been avoiding you after all. You could feel the relief spreading through your body like a warm wave of comfort.
"And the kiss did mean something to me. God, you got me hooked on that single memory ever since I had to walk out of that room. But part of me was scared you'd act like when I just started working for you.", a weak chuckle escaped him as he looked up at you.
God, you looked so beautiful. But still, you'd be married to another man soon. Far too soon.
You took a deep breath before meeting his eyes.
"My previous guard, Masamichi Yaga died protecting me. He was attacked by a special grade curse and he was killed. Right in front of my eyes. When you first came to me I was still grieving heavily.
To my parents he had just been another knight, you know? But to me, he was a friend. A good one to that. And seeing my family just.. replace him after such a short time?
I couldn't let myself get attatched again. But I obviously failed", you added with a small smile, looking up at him.
His grip on your shoulder tightened for a short moment, his green eyes on your face, taking in every feature.
"It wasn't your fault", he finally said, his hand shifting to the back of your neck, warm fingers grazing the roots of your hair. "Gumi's mother died due to a cursed spirit as well, I know exactly how you felt. You know I'm here for you, right?", his voice was so soft, you felt like you could just melt right there.
You nodded hesitantly, leaning more into his touch.
"I won't leave you again, I promise", he finally breathed, his gaze dropping to your lips. "Can I kiss you, your highness?"
When he did his mouth was hot and hungry. His hands wrapped around your hair to tug you closer to his body.
This time felt different. He was still being as gentle as he could, but having you all to himself in his home- it made something inside him snap as he suddenly pinned you back against the old couch, his heavy body covering yours.
A breathless chuckle escaped you as you let your arms wrap around his neck while his mouth brushed your jaw, tasting your skin.
"'m never leaving", he repeated, lifting his head to look down at you with that hazed look in his eyes.
"Just be there tomorrow. Please. I really don't want to be alone when meeting him"
He nodded urgently, pressing his lips to the column of your throat.
"Promise. I'll be there", he whispered against your skin, glancing up through his lashes as he left a trail of butterfly kisses to your neck.
Shivers ran down your back as you let your fingers wrapped around the silky strands of his raven hair, your head tilting back to grant him wider access to every inch of you. God, his mouth felt like heaven.
Every brush of his lips, everytime his teeth grazed your pulse point in a way that made your breathing hitch, every murmur of your name that left his mouth, it all ignited something you'd never felt before in all your life.
"Wait. Commander Geto is still outside", you suddenly remembered, a sigh escaping him as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
"Right, fuck. Sorry, I probably shouldn't have even-"
You shut him up with another kiss, feeling him basically melt into your touch.
"My window will be open tonight", you finally breathed against his lips as you got up from the couch. and my legs, you thought to yourself, watching the man sit up, watching you leave with yearning eyes.
The second Utahime had finally left your bedroom, after talking about some brunette knight she was falling for, you bolted towards your closet.
In the deepest corner, surrounded by royal gowns and festive attire lay the one set of lingerie a friend of yours had brought from her travels. A lacy cami top with a deep v-cut and matching burgundy panties fell from the little satin bag you kept them in, still unworn after all these years.
You wanted to do this, with him and tonight before you'd sell your youth to some stuckup rich guy. So when you finally heard the rustling sound coming from the vines by your window your heart immediately jumped.
Toji's black hair was the first thing you saw, followed by his face, eyes widening the second he caught a glimpse of the vision in front of him.
He swung his legs over the windowstill and then he was right in front of you, heavy hands grazing your waist.
"Your highness, you look.. unreal" his eyes met yours and only a heartbeat later so did your lips.
His hands were everywhere, hot and heavy against your skin, cold air flooding the room from your open window, creeping up your body the same way his touch did.
You were consuming him in ways he couldn't word even if he tried. Toji couldn't get enough of the way you felt against him, the way you tasted on his tongue while it roamed your mouth. A small groan escaped his throat once your fingers slid beneath his shirt, mapping out the scarred skin of his chissled abs, savoring every single touch.
He knew he shouldn't be doing this. You were the princess after all. People were willing to die for just a simple glance from her.
And him? He had you here, all dolled up, looking so astonishingly beautiful it robbed his breath. He shouldn't be having this, not with you.
But Toji Fushiguro was a greedy man. A greedy bastard who was too far gone to care.
His strong arms wrapped around the back of your thighs, lifting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist.
You could feel his growing erection pressed against your rear, an unfamiliar feeling rushing up straight to your core, pulling a faint moan from you.
"God, princess-" Toji pulled back vaguely, casting an adoring look down at you, his halflidded eyes sweeping over your barely dressed figure. "Are you sure you want to do this?", he finally questioned, even though part of him wanted to just toss you onto that royal bed of yours and ruin you over and over until you couldn't even think of anything other than him.
You opened your mouth to confirm when suddenly the memory of what the next day would mean dawned in your mind.
Your grip on his hair tightened for a second before you looked up at him hesitantly.
You swallowed hard, shrugging. The adrenaline from earlier was slowly wearing off, replaced by that sudden clarity.
You only had a night of freedom left before you'd meet the man you'd basically be sold to. The prize for peace turned out to be your freedom. A higher stake than you were really willing to take.
Before you could fully comprehend what was happening a salty tear had already rolled down your cheek, followed by another.
His brows furrowed in concern as he immediately set you down on the edge of your bed, kneeling down right beside you, calloused palm wrapping around you delicate fingers, his thumb stroking over the soft skin.
A shaky sob errputed from you, your fingers tightening around his.
"I don't want to marry someone I don't know, Toji", you whispered, your voice faintly muffled as you wiped your tears away with your free hand. "I- I just don't feel ready for that. I can't just marry someone I don't know. But I can't risk this war either. People will die if I don't do this"
Toji's heart clenched at the sight of you crying. It was the first time he witnessed it.
Even in all the time you had been grieving your old guard- you'd never broken down like this. The pads of his fingers found your cheek, brushing an escaping tear away so gently that it made your heart ache even more.
"Baby", he finally whispered, his hand cupping your jaw carefully, like he was scared you'd break beneath his touch.
His earlier desires were gone, replaced by the primal urge to shield you from the world. To keep you safe. "Maybe he won't be that bad. Who knows, maybe you can work out an agreement with him that doesn't involve marriage?", Toji weakly suggested.
He was horrible at comforting people, always had been. Even when his own son would trip and start crying he got overwhelmed.
But this? This was different. His words had actually managed to stop the panic seeping in your gut for now. You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to ground yourself.
"I'm sorry", you finally whispered, glancing down through your wet lashes. "I wanted to do this tonight, I swear"
Toji shook his head so fast it startled you.
"No, ma. Don't you dare feel sorry for anything right now, understood?" his big hands slid to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to your cheek softly, then your nose and finally the corner of your mouth.
You exhaled shakily, nodding before looking back up at him. He was looking at you with soft eyes, his touch a warm contrast to the far too cold room.
You felt stupid in the lingerie all of a sudden. Too bare, too vulnerable.
"Toji. I'm cold", you whispered. The tall man didn't even hesitate to lift his grey longsleeve over his head, carefully helping you slip into the material.
It was far from the expensive silks and cashmere you were used to, yet it felt better on your skin than any of the overpriced textiles.
"Better?", he asked carefully, watching you adjust his sweater. Seeing you in his clothes made a foreign feeling spread trough his chest, some sort of warmth enveloping him from within.
You nodded, scooting over on your canopy bed, hesitantly padding the empty space on the mattress next to you.
Toji seemed to just take you in for a second before carefully laying down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.
A muscular arm draped across your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest, his body feeling like a furnace compared to yours.
"Sweet dreams, princess", he whispered, his scarred lips brushing your temple. You closed your eyes, leaning further into his touch.
"Goodnight, Toji"
To put it in simple words: Naoya Zenin was a prick. The second the blonde man had set foot into the palace he had started complaining about the weather, the air humidity, the color pallette of the throne and the chandelier he had spotted while passing the dining hall.
Satoru was fuming, your father looking like he was ready to physically restrain your older brother any second.
You were seated at the long conferrence table right across from the heir of the Zenin's.
In the past ten minutes he had managed to say five sexist things, insult three of your maids, make clear you were only good to bear his children and then announce he wasn't prone to putting women in their place.
You didn't even know who hated this guy more. You, Satoru or Toji who just happened to be assigned to the conferrence hall for tonight. His jaw was rigid.
One more word from this guy and he was no longer responsible for his own actions.
Meanwhile your father was nodding along to everything and anything Naoya would say, laughing too loud at the misogynist jokes, pouring "his son", as he already called him, another glass of your finest wine while you fantasized about putting just a small dosis of lethal poison into his drink.
"Furthermore, I think you should make the engagement public this week! We can host the wedding in 10 days if you wish. What do you think, son?", your father finally dropped the bomb.
You froze mid sip, staring over at Naoya. The man just shrugged as he glanced over at you.
"Fine by me. Announce it now", he finally drawled. You almost choked on your wine.
Was he ordering your father, the litteral king around? Yet the older man looked like he'd never been happier, eagerly nodding along.
"Do I get a say in this?", you interrupted as they reached out to shake hands.
Naoya glanced over at you, both surprise and disgust on his face, like he couldn't believe you had the audacity to speak his way.
"My daughter, I thought we already agreed on this", your father pushed through clenched teeth, throwing you a warning glance.
For a second you wanted to just tell them no and storm out, with Toji preferably, but the war clawed into your thoughts like a harsh reminder of reality. So instead you bit your tongue just nodding stiffly.
"Of course, father", you gritted out, feeling both Naoya's and the king's disapproving glances exchange.
By the time this godawful meeting finally concluded you felt like at least half your braincells had just vanished into thin air.
Every word coming from Naoya was like a direct punch directed at every woman ever lived. The thought of you having to actually marry that made your toes curl in disgust.
Naoya was being escorted back towards his cariett when he suddenly stopped in his tracks, turning around to look right at you.
"One more thing. Wife, make sure you're ready to bear my heir once we wed. I shall not wait because of your incompetence", he flashed you a disgusting smile before finally disappearing into the transporter.
Your blood was boiling with rage. You had never, never in your entire life encountered someone you hated this much.
And hate was a strong word, you knew that. But next to Naoya Zenin you needed something even stronger than that.
Fuck getting along with him. You were already plotting on how to run away as soon as you possibly could.
A frustrated groan left you as you turned towards commander geto who just gave you that sympathetic glance, or maybe he was just once again praying you wouldn't snitch on him banging your brother.
Without even as much as glancing back you headed back inside the palace, yearning to forget all about this godawful interaction.
And that's the guy you were supposed to marry? The second you reached your chambers you ripped off that suffocating corset, stripping until you were in just your undergarments before flopping down onto the bed with a heavy groan.
Your door opened almost silently, Toji sliding in like a shadow. His eyes widened the second he saw you, swallowing hard in order to suppress all those urges he was suddenly getting.
"Your highness?", he asked. You lifted your head, catching his eyes roam your half naked body.
"Toji, I hate him. He's so much worse than I could've ever envisioned. Literally every word that pig said was a direct jab at me. How can a person even be this unlikeable? I swear to god, I'm not lasting a single day in this marriage", you complained as you sat up, looking over at your guard with a slight pout.
Toji sighed, nodding as he rid himself from the haori he was wearing, sitting down next to you in only the black skintight longsleeve and his beloved Tobi pants.
"I get it. I was so close to just tossing him into a pit with cursed spirits.", he sighed heavily, glancing over at you.
He hated this. He depised the thought of this being the man that would get to have you in every way he could only ever dream of.
"Why did those bastards even declare war after all? I can't believe they're still convinced that we stole the late king's son. I mean, that's just absurd!", with that you buried your face in Toji's chest, immediately feeling a soothing hand on the back of your head.
After a few moments of just sitting in silence you lifted your head, catching him looking at you again. "Actually, how's Megumi doing?", you asked, your fingers running up his chest over his neck until you could brush his raven hair from his forehead.
Toji's eyes gradually softened as he shrugged, leaning into your touch. "He's doing better, thanks to the medicine you got him. But it'll still take some time until he fully recovers"
"He should go see doctor Shoko sometime. I think she'd take excellent care of him", you suggested. You had already considered trying to heal him by yourself, yet you weren't secure enough with your cursed technique just yet. Not enough to try it on children at least.
The knight next to you just nodded, pulling you into his lap, strong arms wrapping around the small of your back.
"That would be great. Really, I mean it", his scarred lips brushed against your throat as his eyes met yours, the usually so vibrant green darkened gradually.
Your fingers slid into his hair while you dipped your head down so he could kiss you.
His mouth claimed yours like it had never before. This time felt hungrier, more desperate.
You kissed him back with that same intensity, pulling him closer. You wanted to forget Naoya, to forget everything about this arrangement.
You let your hands glide down over his broad shoulders, pulling at the material of the black longsleeve.
Toji groaned against your mouth as you brushed an only half healed scar on his hip, shifting briefly to assist you in hoisting the black fabric over his head.
You pulled back momentarily, casting an appreciative look over his muscular chest before his finger wrapped around the back of your neck, yanking you back into the kiss.
He was drowning in the sensation of your body so close, so soft against his. Toji's palms slid beneath the bra you were wearing, thumb brushing your nipples until they hardened, drawing a delicious moan against his outh from you.
His left hand left the soft mounds to undo the flimsy lace, his mouth latching onto your breast as soon as it was bared.
"God.. Toji- feels so good", you gasped as he flipped you around on the bed, pinning you to the mattress.
He hummed against your sensitive skin, peering up at you through his lashes while he lavished your breast, his fingers pinching your other nipple, aching to hear more of those sounds you were making.
"You taste so good, ma. Can't fucking wait to taste that royal cunt next", he growled over your tit before lifting his head, admiring the wet skin for a second before fisting the lace of your panties.
His filthy words made you gasp, fingers running through his hair before gripping the strands softly.
"Can I?", he asked, tightening his grip on the flimsy lace. You nodded quickly, earning a small grin from him.
"Atta, girl"
Your damp panties got yanked down your thighs that very second, cold air hitting the sensitive skin of your pussy.
Toji gulped at the heavenly sight in front of him, an almost animalistic glare in his orbs.
Slowly he leaned down, running one calloused finger through your slit, moaning at the display of your slick dripping down his digit.
"Fucks sake, ma. You're drenched"
You whimpered needily as the view of him sucking your wetness off his finger unfolded in front of you. You clenched your thighs at the downright pornographic moan that left his throat.
Before you could fully comprehend what was happening he was clawing at your plush thighs, spreading them apart before latching his mouth onto your pussy with a low growl.
You yelped in surprise, fisting his hair, your other hand raking down his muscular back.
Toji ate you like a man starved, his broad shoulders opening you up so the lengthy muscle of his tongue could plunge deep into you, licking you feverishly. His nose bumped against your sensitive clit with every thrust of his tongue.
"Ngh- Toji.. too much" you didn't want him to stop. How could you when he was hitting all those spots inside you so deliciously that it made your toes curl?
"Taste so good, ma. Fuck, I'm addicted", he rasped out, starting to suck on your clit like it was the most delicious sweet treat he had ever tried. Two thick fingers pushed into you, stretching you so good.
You moaned his name as he curled his digits, hitting your g-spot with the deadly precision only a knight could have.
"You like this, princess? You like getting your pussy eaten by some common knight?", he spat onto your pussylips, watching his saliva drip over your folds before greedily licking it up, thrusting his fingers even deeper into you, drawing a sob from you.
"Yes- ahh.. yes, Toji", you cried, tugging him even closer by his hair.
"God, the things you do to me", he groaned, sucking at your clit harder, yearning to feel you falling apart on his tonuge.
He was full on humping your mattress, rubbin his still clothed cock against the expensive textiles.
"Yer all mine, princess. Say it." His fingers rammed into your g-spot again, your back arching off the bed at the waves of overwhelming pleasure suddenly flooding you.
"Fuck, yes! M' all yours, Toji- please", you begged while he went back to eating your cunt like a madman, his fingers playing with your clit while he licked up every single drop of slick your dripping pussy gave him.
"Cum for me, princess. Wanna feel it all", he grumbled against your cunt, voice muffled from the way your velvety walls were swallowing him.
Your orgasm crashed into you faster than you could've expected, intense waves of pleasure rolling off your body as you cried out his name.
Your thighs were quivering as his tongue fucked you through it, greedily licking up every single drop of cum your pussy offered him, his hands holding your thighs strong enough to leave marks.
"Fuckin' hell, you taste so good. She's so beautiful", he drawled against your cunt, slurping up your remaining juices before giving it a final kiss and lifting his head to look at you.
You looked angelic, skin flushed, some sweat glistening on your flawless skin. He on the other hand resembled a pussydrunk maniac. His skin was covered in your wetness, pupils blown wide, a stain visible on the material of his pants.
A weak chuckle escaped you as you pulled him in by the back of his neck, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on his mouth.
"Did you cum in your pants?", you whispered, casting an amused look at him. Toji scowled, pressing his lips harder against yours.
"Maybe", he murmured. "Couldn't help it with you looking so beautiful and all mine"
He let his hands run over your bare stomach, up to your heavy mounds, palming them.
All of a sudden there was a loud knock at your door. Your eyes widened as your gaze darted to Toji, your fingers immediately letting go of his neck.
"Hide", you whispered as you grabbed your flimsy, half-torn underwear, putting it on in record speed while Toji rolled under your bed.
"Comming", you called, throwing on a robe before you pushed open the heavy wooden gate.
Satoru was standing in the doorway with a rather unhappy expression on his face.
"Naoya's carriett broke down on the way back to the Zenin's territorry", he announced simply. Hope flooded you as you let your older brother into your room.
"Did he die?"
"Worse. He'll be staying here until the wedding"
Oh no.
"Here as in the town?", you asked hopefully, part of you praying that the fourarmed curse was still somewhere out there, hunting down your soon to be husband.
"Here as in the palace", Satoru clarified with a groan, flopping down onto the bed, a groan being heard all of a sudden. Your eyes widened and your brother raised his eyebrow.
"Alright, who's under the bed?", he demanded. Of course he knew. He was Satoru Gojo after all.
You ran a hand over your face, contemplating all your life's decisions.
"Toji", you finally said quietly.
Satoru's eyes widened as he leaned back, peeking under the bed.
"Toji", he then confirmed, a disbelieving chuckle leaving the white haired man.
"Jesus christ, sis. This arranged marriage must suck even more than I already imagined. Yo Fushiguro, you good down there?", he teased.
Toji just grumbled quietly as he got up, stretching, his tanned muscles flexing in the dim candlelight.
"Your highness", he simply greeted Satoru, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
"Toru, I really don't wanna marry that Naoya guy", you begged, catching your brother's azure eyes. "Is there really no other way?"
Satoru ran a hand over his face, as if deep in thought before he got up from your bed, deciding not to adress the weird mess on your sheets.
"There might be.", he finally said, taking in Toji for a second. "But for now you're gonna have to go along with what they're saying. I hate this too, trust me. But you two can't keep doing *this*"- he pointed at your bed and at the two of you-"for now, at least. I promise I'll come up with something."
You wanted to believe him, part of you really did. But more than anything else you wanted to be with Toji right now.
"That's not fair", you protested. Toru sighed, nodding.
"I know, sis. I know. But right now it's the only way. If anyone finds out you're sleeping with a guard-"
"You're hooking up with the commander. How's that any different? You out of all people should understand"
"I do, I swear I do. But the thing is, the peace between two kingdoms doesn't depend on my love life right now. I wouldn't be asking you two to do this if it wasn't absolutely necessary", he snapped, glaring down at you.
Toji, who had kept quiet the whole conversation suddenly cleared his throat.
"We'll do it", he said quietly. "But if you don't come up with something to get her out of that prick's filthy grip-", he let the threat hang in the air and even Satoru knew better than to underestimate him right now.
You didn't recognize yourself. You were standing in front of a huge mirror, giving your maids another twirl while they measured the white gown you were in.
Your wedding dress. You had four days left before the wedding, four more days for Satoru to come up with a solution other than running away with Toji and hiding in some cabin in the woods.
Naoya had spent the past few days running around the palace, criticizing everything and everyone. He had gotten into a fight with one of the messengers, a young man named Choso.
You had no idea what it had been about but you fully sided with Choso.
"Your highness, this dress looks wonderful on you", Utahime said with a shy smile. You had been seeing less of her these past days.
She started dating a young knight and lucky her could even do it publicly. Without being forced to marry some stuck up prick.
You forced a small smile, casting another look at yourself in the mirror. It did look good.
But not for him. You shouldn't be wearing such a pretty dress for such an ugly man. It just felt wrong.
"Thank you, Iorie", you said quietly. The heavy doors opened suddenly. It was noon, which meant exchange of the guards. Sir Nanami and Sir Higuruma left their positions by the door as Toji and Shiu came in.
Toji's eyes widened the second he saw you. God, you were unreal. He had done his best to avoid seeing you these past few days.
He had spent a lot of time with Satoru, getting Ierie Shoko to take care of Megumi who was now housing in the hospice wing of the palace with Haibara taking care of him.
Satoru was buys most of the time, either spending time with commander Geto or busying himself in the library, trying to figure out a way to hold onto his promise and stop that wedding.
Seeing you in a wedding dress, right in front of him felt like a full on wet dream. White fabric hugged your curves elegantly, tracing the shape of your body with lace and silk.
This dress alone was probably worth more than his house in town. Your gaze met his and he already knew he'd be jerking off to the memory of you again that night.
Your eyes softened for the fraction of a second as they aligned with his heavy look on your figure. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, something no one else could understand. Something only you knew.
The doors slammed open, a fuming Naoya Zenin storming in. He didn't even look at you, not properly at least.
The thought of Naoya having you all to himself and not even appreciating it made Toji sick in the stomach, his grip around the katana strapped to his side tightening.
"Woman", Naoya demanded. "Where is your father? I need to speak to him immediately"
You groaned quietly at the aggitating sound of his voice, turning around so you'd face him.
"I don't know, Naoya. Matter of fact, don't you see that I'm busy right know? Ask a maid if you're that desperate to know", you shot back. Naoya's scowl deepened as he stepped towards you, crowding your personal space a lot more than you were comfortable with.
"Careful, woman", he spat, like the word was an insult, "I will be your king very soon. And then we'll see if you still have the guts to talk to me like that."
A muscular arm slid between the two of you, pushing Naoya back. Toji's eyes were locked onto the Zenin's heir who suddenly looked really short next to the huge knight.
"I'm only gonna say this once, Zenin. Right now, you are a no one here. A mere hostage at best. So if I see you talk to the heir of this throne like this again you might not live long enough to witness the wedding"
His tone was surprisingly calm for someone who was threatening to kill somebody, especially someone as powerful as Naoya Zenin. His voice came out slightly muffled against the material of the black mask all guards wore over their mouth, his eyes were hard as stone.
Naoya just scoffed, mumbling something along the lines of "no respect" to himself, yet he backed off, throwing you one last venomous glance and then heading out.
Everyone in the room seemed to sigh in relief, the maids resuming their work while Toji returned to his position by Shiu's side but not without letting his dark green orbs linger on yours for a seconds longer than necessary.
You averted your attention back to the mirrors in front of you. You hated knowing that you wouldn't be wearing this weddingdress for him. He was supposed to be waiting at the end of the aisle, not Naoya. Never ever that sexist blonde bastard.
"I think we're going to have and shorten the veil a little", you murmured, turning to Utahime who was eagerly taking notes, nodding along "I don't want it all up on the floor"
Utahime finally unlaced the satin gown, letting it slip off your shoulders until it pooled on the floor around your legs. You took a step back, waiting for your servants to bring you your normal clothes.
Through the mirror you could clearly see Toji's hungry gaze all over your barely clothed body, jade eyes dwelling on the swell of your ass just a second too long.
Shiu's voice snapped him back to reality as he quickly redirected his gaze back to the mahogany flooring of the room.
"Dude, you shouldn't be staring. That's an engaged woman. And the heir to the throne", Shiu hissed quietly, shaking his head while also keeping his eyes locked onto the floor like stealing a glance was going to burn him alive.
Toji just scoffed to himself yet despite wanting to protest he kept silent. Once your maids had gotten you into the midnight blue gown again you stepped away from the mirrors.
The guards lifted their heads once you approached, bowing down for a second.
You gave a small nod back, purposely stumbling slightly so you had an excuse to grab onto Toji's muscular shoulder, squeezing his skin reassuringly as he steadied you with a hand on your waist, having Shiu open the big door for you.
Those fleeting touches were all you could have with him these past days and it was eating you alive.
Sure, Satoru had promised to stop the wedding, but even then you probably wouldn't be able to be with Toji. Because there were certain expectations you had to meet, one of them was marrying into wealth and power.
You should be sleeping right now.
Huddled up in warm sheets, hair braided to avoid tangles and a little candle burning in the corner of your room.
Instead you're clinging to the branches of the large plant covering the walls on the palace, slowly making your descent to the grand yard. Usually it was buzzing with servants, knights and other people but in the dark of night only Toji stood there, taunting grin plastered across his face as he waited for you.
"Take your time, ma. 's not like we're in a hurry or something", he teased from all the way down. Of course it had been his idea to have you climb out of your window in the middle of the night.
You just scoffed, carefully stepping onto the next vine. Eventually you felt solid ground beneath your feet, sighing in relief as two strong hands came up to steady you by the waist, spinning you around.
Toji had a small smile on his lips as his eyes finally met your up close after days of pining.
"Hey, ma", he whispered, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, letting his fingers run through your hair.
"Hey, 'ji", you mumbled, stepping closer to the knight in front of you.
Tomorrow was your wedding and you were already mourning the freedom you'd be leaving behind. Satoru had just disappeared two days ago and ever since one thing had been clear. You would have to marry Naoya.
The moonlight broke through the thin layer of clouds covering the tenebrous airspace, a thin ray of the illumination just barely emblazing his scarred skin.
"Run away with me", Toji suddenly whispered, glancing over the yard to make sure there was no one around.
"Once we're out of here", Toji started, his calloused fingers brushing your cheek. "I'll return once to get Gumi. And then I'll take such good care of you. I promise, ma"
You melted into his touch, yet your mind was reeling. Should you really risk a war just so you could be happy with him?
Yet against your better judgement you got on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his briefly.
"I know. And I'll-"
"I KNEW IT"
The shrill sound of Naoya Zenin's voice made both of you turn to the direction of the sound.
Your arranged fiancee himself was standing at the small gate to the stables, pointing a singular finger at the two of you.
"Fucking knew it. You're a slut- a slut that's about to run off with her secret lover I suppose?", a humorless laugh left him as he stepped towards Toji.
"I should have you executed on the spot. Tell me, did you fuck her? Did you take what's supposed to be mine?" he didn't wait for Toji to answer, the dark look in his green eyes said enough.
"Naoya, it's not what-", you tried, feeling your palms getting sweatier the more he spoke, your stomach churning at the mere thought of Toji getting executed because of what Naoya had just witnessed.
"Silence, woman!", he shrieked, eyes wide with fury, "You will go back to your room right this instant. And you-", he pointed a finger at Toji, "you will come with me."
You wanted to protest, to grab Toji's arm and run away, to just leave Naoya somewhere- anywhere. But Toji only nodded, letting go of your arm where his touch had lingered groundingly.
"Toji, don't", you whispered yet you didn't get more than one last lingering glance. You knew in a battle of pure strenght Toji would easily win.
But Naoya Zenin was dangerous. He had inherited the Zenin's cursed technique, something that even the strongest curses couldn't overpower. No one but-
"Whoa whoa. What's going on here?"
-Satoru Gojo.
Relief flooded through your body like a warm embrace as your brother stepped out of the dark, commander Geto following behind.
He looked quite funny like this, black hair all messy, some bitemarks that you chose to ignore on his neck.
"This guard", Naoya sneered, glaring up at Toji, "is involved with the princess. I just wanted to take care of him before the wedding"
The way he said it, like it was some casual matter made your face twist in disgust, yet Satoru only sighed, throwing you a short look which you successfully dodged by looking down.
"I'm sure this is all a big misunderstanding. Look, Zenin.
How about we approach this like adults? We'll hand the guard over to commander Geto here while you and I go for some drinks and discuss how this could possibly affect our politics, alright? No need to take such drastic measures immediately."
You could just run up and hug him right now. Satoru had always have a way with words and now all those years of losing every fight as kids finally paid off as you witnessed the tension in Naoya's shoulders easing.
The blonde stepped away from Toji with a scoff before averting his attention to Satoru.
"Of course, your highness", he then said with a nod. Satoru seemed both relieved as equally disgusted.
With a quiet "you owe me big time", dirrected at you, he stepped to the Zenin's heir, walking towards the big kitchen with him.
Once the two men were out of sight Toji, Geto and you exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding.
"You two couldn't have waited one more day, huh?", Suguru asked with a sigh, running a hand through his tousseled hair.
"Fushiguro, go back to the quarters. Your highness, let me escort you back to your room"
His tone left no room for arguments. You stole one last look of Toji's face before walking off. Because all of you knew, the next time you'd see him would be the royal wedding.
A soft, melancholic tune rang through the halls of the palace as the orchestra started playing.
Weddingguests were spilling in through the wooden gates, the most powerful people in all of Japan gathering within those four walls to witness the joining of the Zenin's and the Gojo's- two families that had been at war long before time had a name.
Women in ivory dresses were lined up at the end of the long aisle, bouquets of dark red lillies in their hands.
The heavy gate swung open as Naoya Zenin was walked to the altar, his father escorting him with a hand on his shoulder.
Naobito Zenin's grey hair was neatly combed and for once he looked more like a nobleman than an alcoholic warrior.
He didn't spare his son a second glance as he dropped him off by the priest before slumping down not far from where a bunch of royal guards were positioned, Toji amongst them.
All of the knight's mouths were covered by the traditional black mask, their white haories freshly cleaned to rid them of any stains they could've possibly had.
Satoru Gojo, eldest son of the Gojo family, was in his fanciest white robe, blue intricate details covering the long sleeves that rested on his folded arms.
Red and white petals were cascading from the ceiling, painting the floor to look like bloodstained snow- one of the most notorious battlefields the war had ever seen in all its approaches over the centuries.
The soft clicks of heels on stone floor reveberated through the palace.
The first officials and their wives had started stepping in, powerful men like Hakari Kinji and Hajime Kashimo.
Different clanleaders were sitting down in their assigned seats, happily chatting about the importance of this day for further politics and negotiations.
It could seem like a perfect wedding. If it wasn't for Naoya Zenin.
Suddenly the orchestra chimed in a slower tune. The guests quieted down, turning their attention to the great gate that was now being opened by commander Geto and his right hand man sir Nanami.
Toji couldn't break his eyes from you even for a milisecond as soon as you entered his line of sight.
To say you were beautiful would be an understatement.
For a second he let himself dream that you were walking up to him. That that small pout on your lips would be his to kiss away. And as your father walked you up the aisle you could see something you'd not once imagined.
Toji Fushiguro was tearing up.
He hadn't even noticed himself. His vision had blurred slightly, yet only as something wet rolled down his cheek he fully registered it.
It should be Naoya tearing up. He got to stand there and know you'd be his and he wasn't even properly looking.
The blonde man's eyes were anywhere but on your breathtaking face. He had stared at the floor, then your cleavage and now he was whispering with a nobleman by his side.
Your heart clenched. This felt even worse than you could've ever imagined.
You reached the altar and your father put your hands into Naoya's. You closed your eyes for a second, images of Toji flashing through your mind. Maybe in another universe you two could actually be.
The priest started the wedding ceremony but you weren't really there. Your mind was reeling. Satoru's plan had failed because of your foolishness the other night.
Naoya knew and he wouldn't be afraid to use this knowledge to get Toji executed, he had made that clear.
The vows were skipped, since you didn't know each other well enough to promise anything other than eternal hatred. Finally the priest turned to the crowd with the sacred words:
"Speak now or forever hold your peace"
There was a short silence. Just as the priest was about to say the words that were to steal your youth a loud voice rang through the sea of people.
"I object"
Toji Fushiguro stood by the altar, arms crossed, his eyes not wavering from you for a second.
"Guards, arrest this man!", Naoya screamed.
And then all hell broke loose. People were yelling, the Zenin's guards had pinned Toji to the floor, Satoru was trying to say something, your father was crying and Naobito Zenin just laughed.
Two guards made Toji sit on his knees, keeping his arms pinned behind his back as Naoya pulled the katana from his hip.
"Tell them all, Fushiguro", he sneered, glaring over at you. "Tell them all how you fucked the princess."
Gasps were coming from everywhere, people were cursing at him- and you? You were frozen in shock. You wanted to move, to run, but what use would that have?
"Naoya, I'm begging you-", Satoru started yet Naoya didn't hesitate to point the sword at your brother's throat.
"Quiet! You said you'd take care of this.. situation. But you only wanted to protect your whore of a sister, didn't you?"
Satoru's gaze darkened, the blue in his eyes flaring up as the chandeliers started to rattle slowly, a wind coming up in the room.
"Don't you dare speak of my sister like that, you insolent bastard. I swear, I will-"
"Whoa everyone, chill out", Naobito Zenin had gotten up from his seat with a sigh, walking to the front. He took the katana from his son unceremoniously and pointed it at Toji.
"Unmask him" Then he yawned. You couldn't believe what was happening. Toji couldn't just die. No.
"Please spare him", you choked out. To your surprise Naobito gave you a sympathetic glance, just nodding.
"Relax, your highness. I ain't killin anyone right now."
The Zenin's guard had pulled down Fushiguro's mask just as Naobito turned back at him. And then he froze.
"..Toji?"
Because looking up at him, with the same eyes that had haunted him all his life was his brother's son. The kid with the scar that used to run around the palace. The vanished prince.
The rest of the day had passed by in a hazy blur.
After Naobito had acknowledged Toji as the righteous heir of the Zenin clan Naoya had a meltdown and had to be escorted to the medical wing where Shoko accidentally slipped some laxatives into his medicine.
A wedding did take place as Utahime's brunette knight decided to propose to her right then and there and you happily gave her the spotlight your favorite maid deserved.
The engagement with Naoya had been called off that very same evening, very much to your father's disdain. Turns out this had been part of Satoru's plan all along.
With commander Geto's help he had found a connection between Toji and the Zenin's months ago. Toji objecting at the wedding had been his idea, for a little more drama as he later on clarified.
The second that Naoya had been dragged away Toji had picked you up and kissed you for everyone to see.
Gasps had filled the room, some older lady even fainted when his rough hand wrapped around the small of your back.
He had pulled away with that shiteating grin of his, not wanting to think about the fact that his whole life had been a lie right now and Satoru had cheered louder than anyone else (though that might still be because of the whole gardenshed incident)
Toji was buried balls deep inside your dripping cunt, pounding into it with those sinfully deep thrusts, a heavy hand resting right next to your head as leverage.
He had your legs folded so your knees were pressed to your chest as his thick cock bullied itself up until his dark tip kissed your cervix.
"God.. had been dreaming about fucking this sweet pussy for so long, ma. 'm gonna fill you up soo nice."
All you could do was let out an incomprehensible whine, clawing deeper into his deep shoulders, your manicured nails leaving crescent moon imprints in the scarred skin.
You tried lifting your hips to meet his sloppy pace but after only two deep thrusts your legs fully gave out, your attempts to as much as move faltering as his hand came in contact with your waist, pushing you down.
"Stop movin'. 'm not gonna last long", he growled, biting the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, leaving a deep mark that you knew your new maid, Yuki would frown at.
"Toji", you cried out as he grazed your cervix once again, a loud sob escaping you. "Please"
"Please what, princess?", he teased though his composure was slowly crumbling, his movements growing more erratic and uncontrolled as he thrust into you again.
You wanted to answer but then the sharp vein on the lenth of his girthy cock grazed your g-spot so deliciously that your orgasm crashed into you all at once.
Your pussy squeezed around him while you buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling a scream while your walls convulsed around him.
"ah- fuck", he groaned, the pressure of you around him making him cum harder than ever before, his cum spilling deep into you.
For a moment he just stayed like that, watching a white ring form around the base of his cock before he slowly pulled out, leaving you whimpering from the sudden emptiness.
Toji pressed a kiss to your temple and got up on slightly wobbly legs, grabbing a clean towel and wiping away the mess you two had left behind.
"I love you", he whispered as he slid into bed next to you, wrapping a veiny arm around your waist.
And for the first time in your life you believed those words.
Megumi was running around the yard, chasing after his two dogs, laughter filling the air all the way up to the balcony of your room. Your daughter, Tsumiki was in your arms, sound asleep when the door opened quietly.
"Your majesty", Toji whispered teasingly, picking up your kid and putting her into the small wooden crib.
His calloused finger lingered at the baby's cheek before he pressed a loving kiss to his daughter's nose.
"She has your eyes", he whispered, straightening up, his arms wrapping around your waist. You smiled up at him, nodding.
"But your nose", you gave back, running a finger over his face. A gentle smile touched his lips as he pulled you closer.
The confines of your room felt like home. Paintings of your family hung high on the walls, smiles on the familiar faces.
And next to you was Toji- the man that made you believe that maybe happy endings did exist after all.
