summary: when you break seungcheol’s most important rule, he knows he has to punish you. you just didn’t know how much you would end up liking it.
word count: 4.9k
warnings: angst if you squint, smut, nsfw, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, spanking, some pain play, praise and degradation, rough (and I mean ROUGH) sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, daddy kink, mentions of subspace. Pls read at your own risk.
a/n: this is the most out there thing I’ve written seriously…. I usually don’t write dynamics like these so this was an exercise for me too lol. I hope you like it! Feedback is always loved and appreciated xx
Things felt off from the very start.
You know it’s your fault. You had a terrible day, and you should’ve just taken it easy when you got back home. Work was a shitshow, and for hours, all you wanted was to just lay down in your bed and never speak to another human being again. You should have communicated that. Without a doubt, Seungcheol would’ve dropped everything to pamper you. He would’ve drawn you a nice, warm bath and taken over the dishes after dinner. He would’ve rubbed your feet and gotten you something overly sweet for dessert as a treat for getting through the absolute hell of a day you had.
But you didn’t say anything. In fact, you just kissed him harder, with more purpose, and told him dinner could wait. You pawed at his clothes and told him to take you hard and rough. You wanted to feel, but you forgot that your mind is really not strong enough today to handle what you were asking your boyfriend to give you.
Because, you see, Seungcheol has rules.
You had always been a fan of more spice in the bedroom, and you truly feel like you met your match when you got with Seungcheol. For every submissive tendency in your body, for all the times you wanted zero control over your own senses, Seungcheol was more than happy to take the reins. He loved it, basked in it, knew how to play your body like a stringed instrument. His dominance in the bedroom came with only one, all encompassing rule: you don’t do anything he doesn’t give you explicit permission to do. And that includes every single one of your innumerable orgasms.
Usually, you love it. Your job is taxing and overburdening, and sometimes, you want someone else to take charge and just tell you what to do. For years, you have been perfect, the epitome of submission. You’re his good girl, always, disciplined and in-line. There’s only a smattering of brat in you, which Seungcheol tolerates in small doses, but otherwise, you are perfectly pliant, suited for his needs the way he is suited to yours. There’s a harmony here, established by many years of communication and understanding. So you should’ve known. You should’ve said something, told him to take it easy. But you stupidly kept your mouth shut, and hence began your current predicament.
He’s fucking you into the mattress just like you asked, his sweats pulled down just enough to let him pound his cock into you. You’re naked from the waist down, arching, chest constricted in your pale, buttoned up blouse. You hadn’t even let him fully undress you. You didn’t want to take your time, you just wanted him in you. Even when he tried to tighten his grip on you, tried to mumble a ‘slow down’ into your mouth, you didn’t let him, begging, pleading, promising to be good for him if he would just fill you up, and so he complied.
That was the mistake, and it became your undoing when, just minutes later, you are clamping up around him, your body already so stiff and wound up, so glaringly exhausted, that no amount of self control can stop you. You clench hard and come, writhing on the mattress fisting the sheets, wailing as it washes over you in scattered, broken waves. You haven’t even come down from it when tears coat your eyes and you realise what you’ve done.
Seungcheol slows to a stop, still throbbing inside you, but jaw dropped in shock. This might be the first time in years that you’ve come without slurring out your usual ‘please’ or ‘let me’ or ‘can I?’, waiting for his permission. You’d always listened, always done what you were told, never once stepping even a toe out of line.
This is incredibly out of character.
Immediately, he can see it weigh heavily on you. You’re panting, legs still trembling, but your body is stiffening, he can feel it around his dick, and your face is crumpling. He knows you regret it, but he also knows why this happened. He should’ve known. God, he should’ve spotted it the second you walked in through the door. The hard plane of your shoulders, the tight line of your lips. But he had gotten barely two words out of his mouth before you were smothering him with yours, begging in that cute, whiny voice of yours that you need this bad. He had stupidly agreed, and now he’s watching you fall apart.
He needs to fix this.
“I’m-” Your voice is pitched and wobbly. Your arms tuck into your body, legs pulling together as much as they can with him between them. You’re trying to shrink yourself. “‘M sorry. Cheol, I’m so-”
This isn’t on you, he knows this. This isn’t your fault at all. If anything, it’s his. He should know you well enough by now to estimate what you need and give it to you. But now is not the time to beat himself up. You need to forget this happening, or you will do what you always do; think about this to the point of spiraling and making yourself sick with guilt. He also knows that no amount of reassurance is going to make you forget it.
Through your teary vision, you hear a tut of disappointment, and then your boyfriend pulls out. You’re filled with dread, because you don’t want him to step back. You know you’ve fucked up. This is one of his most important rules. There’s just no conceivable universe where you’re allowed to cum without Seungcheol telling you to, and already, guilt is striking your chest like stab wounds from knives.
“That wasn’t like you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough but soft. “I’m very surprised.”
You sniffle, resisting the urge to curl into yourself. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” You feel his hands on your bare knees, closing them and sitting back on his haunches. You sit up shakily, blinking hard to try and see him in the relative darkness of the room. The golden light from the lamp hits the side of his face. His expression is blank. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“I am sorry.” You insist again. “I don’t know what came over me-”
“I don’t know what came over you either.” He tilts his head, watching you. “Thats not how good girls behave.”
Your heart lurches. This is your biggest medal. Your point of pride; being good for Seungcheol. Never once in all your years of doing this had you let him down. Never. The mere thought of it might push you to panic. Before you can say anything, you feel Seungcheol’s hand, strong and sure, run over your jaw and cup the back of your neck. He squeezes slowly, affectionately, and you lean into it, wet eyelids fluttering. Every fibre in you hopes he isn’t mad.
“When good girls misbehave, they have to be punished.” He whispers. “I know you never have before, princess, but you know it’s fair.”
You swallow tightly before hesitantly nodding. It’s the rules. You step out of line, you get punished. You will do anything to make up for your misstep. You will take any punishment.
“Okay.” You sniffle. Seungcheol sighs and nods.
“Good.” He says, not ‘good girl’. But you don’t deserve to be called that right now. “Strip.”
Seungcheol stands as he watches you shakily undo your blouse buttons. You tug it off and reach back for your bra. When you’re sat bare before him, you watch him tuck his erection back into his sweats, seating himself on the edge of the bed with his back to you. He reaches an arm back to gesture to you.
“Come here.”
You comply, crawling to him on your hands and knees. He maneuvers your body very easily, settling you on his lap until your stomach is pressed to his thighs, strong and sturdy under the soft material of his pants. Your legs dangle, ass sticking out. You flush at the position, realising what’s coming. You’ve been spanked before, mostly during sex when Seungcheol is whispering dirty things into your ear from behind and slapping your ass. But never like this. You almost jump when you feel his hand run up your right asscheek.
“I think ten sounds good.” He hums. “You will count, and you will say thank you after every single one. Got it?”
Your eyelids flutter. You rest your head on your arms. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
The first one is the biggest shock to your system. Seungcheol’s hand comes down with unbelievable force, full palmed and encompassing your entire ass cheek. You yelp loudly, fingernails digging into your arms. Immediately, tears spring into your eyes. You were just wondering why he decided to do only ten, but now it’s clear to you that even ten will be more than anything you can withstand.
“O-one.” You immediately choke out. “Thank you, sir.”
The second one marrs your other asscheek, stinging just as much, and your entire face scrunches as you cry out. You writhe where you’re draped over his lap. Your skin is screaming, and you already feel dizzy.
“Two.” You heave, the very air feeling like torture on your skin.
“Two what?” Seungcheol snaps. “Already forgetting the rules? Don’t make me start over, princess.”
You shake your head immediately, trying to take long breaths. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you. Thank you.”
You whisper it again, and again, even as he lands more spanks on your ass. It feels heated now, like it’s on fire, and by the time you reach eight, you are lightheaded, sobbing openly, poor pussy clenching around nothing as the sensitivity spreads all the way down your thighs as well.
Seungcheol tuts and sighs, you can hear him over the sound of your own cries. You lurch when he caresses your stinging skin. He reaches down, one thick finger sliding through your slit and pressing into your aching nub. Your eyes roll, the feeling so intense that you can barely process it. You’ve been edged before, so many times, you’ve been overstimulated and wanting, but never has it felt this divine, the pleasure curling around the tendrils of pain running through your body. Seungcheol dips a finger into your squelching hole, sinking it in to the last knuckle, and you wail at the feeling.
“So wet, baby.” He coos. “Greedy little thing, you even enjoy your punishment.”
“I’m sorry.” You whimper, trying everything in your power to not buck back into his finger. When he pulls out, you almost cry, but he wastes no time, using that already wet hand to spank you again, just as harsh, not losing steam at all.
“N-nine.” You weep. “Thank you, sir.”
You almost feel like you’re seeing spots in your vision. Seungcheol reaches between your thighs again, like he knows this is becoming too much. He cups your pussy, sliding his fingers through the sopping mess side to side, just enough to stimulate your clit.
“Last one, princess.” He encourages. “Ready?”
You nod weakly, voice cracking when you cry out again as his hand meets your ass one last time. You choke out the number, the thank you. You’re openly tearful, face nearly as wet as your cunt, and finally Seungcheol moves. He lifts you up, placing you very gently on your back in the center of the mattress. You feel his lips on your forehead, and you bask in the feeling.
“Such a good girl.” He says finally, hand caressing through your sweaty hair. “You took that so well, baby.”
You keen, pussy clenching desperately around nothing.
“‘M your good girl.” You slur.
You don’t see the fond smile on his face, eyes soft with affection. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of you he can reach.
“Yes, you are.” He reassures you. “My perfect girl. Your first time and you did so good.”
You whine, shaky hands reaching up to claw at his shirt. He takes the hint, sitting back to tug it off, followed by his sweatpants. His cock bobs up, thick and hard, leaking copious amounts of precum.
“I think you deserve my cock now, princess.” He hums. “For being such a good girl.”
You nod eagerly, spreading your legs before he can even do it for you. He settles between them, running the angry, throbbing head through the sticky mess in your slit. He does that a few times, coating his shaft until it’s glistening, before finally reaching down and nudging the entrance. When he slides in, your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling at the feeling. Your ass still stings, especially where it rubs on the sheets, but it sends pleasant, burning tendrils shooting through your skin, and it adds to how sensitive you already are. It does nothing but augment your arousal even more. You moan wantonly as Seungcheol bottoms out, and you hear him softly curse.
“Perfect little cunt.” He groans. “Tight as anything even after I’ve fucked it for so many years. You’re molded to me, aren’t you baby?”
You nod eagerly as he starts moving, your moans punched out of your throat with every thrust, little ‘uh, uh, uh’s that only seem to spur him on more. You’re dripping consistently, wetting his cock as it rams in and out of you at a punishing pace. Every slam of his hips into you jolts your body, your breasts bouncing, and his hungry eyes train on every movement.
“You’ve got the prettiest tits, baby.” He grunts, one hand reaching up to pinch harshly at your left nipple and tug. You cry out. Then, he lets it go, reaching a hand back and bringing it down to harshly slap the swell of it. You gasp.
“Good?” He rasps. You nod enthusiastically and arch up, tempting him more. He groans and does it again, the sting making your eyes roll.
“Dirty slut.” He grits out. “You love this. Love getting slapped around, don’t you?”
You’re so far gone as he rams into you, nearly delirious with it. Even after so long of being together, there are things you’re discovering not only about Seungcheol, but about yourself as well. You’re sinking into the depths of depravity, and you want to fall further into it. So you blink wetly up at your boyfriend, eyes wide and big.
“Only if daddy does it.”
Seungcheol’s hips stutter. You can see the shock pass over his face, but it hardens immediately. His pace slows. He slams his hips into yours and stays there, leaning down closer to you.
“What did you just say?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, clenching wildly around his suddenly still cock. “Only wanna be slapped around by daddy.”
You can see, in real time, Seungcheol’s eyes darken as his pupils dilate. He bites the plump of his bottom lip. Beside your head, his hands fist the sheets tightly.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He grits, voice low and brassy. You swallow tightly.
“You don’t like it?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. He pulls out slowly until only the head of his cock is snug inside you. Then, he lurches forward, slamming into you so hard your whole body jerks. You gasp.
“I love it, baby.” He does it again. “Maybe a little too much.”
You can’t speak, all the breath knocked straight out of your lungs with every harsh, deep, slow thrust of Seungcheol’s hips. His head smooches the opening of your cervix, a shooting sensation through your lower abdomen that makes you gush around his thick cock. You feel his hand encircle your neck, and your toes curl in anticipation.
“You’re gonna be a good girl for Daddy then, sweetheart?” Another thrust. You feel your hair brush the headboard as your body is pushed up by sheer force. You nod vigorously, unable to say the words. His grip on the sides of your throat tightens, and you start to feel a little lightheaded.
His pace is brutal, picking up speed as he slams into you over and over. He uses his free arm to tuck just above your head so you don’t slam into the bed frame, but he doesn’t let up even once. He mutters the most filthy, unbearable things in your ear, telling you how you’re his perfect little cocksleeve, made to take him whenever he wants it, no questions asked. That he has trained your pussy to be this way, the perfect little slut for him. You moan whenever he loosens his grip on your neck, choking out how much you love getting fucked hard by daddy, how you’re just a hole for him to fuck and use, and when you can’t take it anymore, you ask him the golden question.
“Can I cum, daddy?”
His thrusts immediately get harsher. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He grits. “You think you deserve to, after cumming without permission? I’ve barely forgiven you for that, baby. You’ve got a lot of making up to do before you get a reward.”
You wail, chest heaving as you clamp desperately around his throbbing, huge cock. You know he’s right. You’ve been bad, and some spanking and one offering of your wet pussy isn’t enough to earn you forgiveness. So you don’t protest. You don’t ask again. You only agree.
“I’m sorry for asking, daddy.” You babble. “You’re right, I don’t deserve it. I’m just daddy’s little cum dump. I’ll take whatever daddy will give me.”
Seungcheol’s groan is broken. “God, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I love it, sweetheart. Being such a perfect girl for me, fuck.”
You shake and cry as he fucks into you some more, your head now tilting forward as he folds you closer and closer to the headboard, crowding you against it. You can’t barely breathe at the force. And finally, finally, his movements turn sloppy.
“Think you should be allowed to take my cum?” He grits out. “Feels awfully like a reward, no? Have you earned it, baby?”
Your face crumples. You want to feel it inside you so bad, the heat of his release warming your insides. But you know what he wants to hear, you know you haven’t been good enough to deserve a big reward like that.
“No, daddy.” You whimper. “I don’t deserve it. I haven’t been good.”
Seungcheol’s smirk is sick. He licks over his bottom lip. “You’re so self aware tonight.” His tone is near-mocking, and it makes you tighten pathetically.
When he abruptly pulls out, it feels like getting your insides ripped from you. His hand moves rapidly over his wet cock, and he shuffles up until he’s straddling your torso.
“Open your mouth.” He grits. You immediately obey, sticking your tongue out. Your eyelids flutter when the first rope of it hits your lips, dripping over your tongue. Some of it splatters on your cheek, but you manage to catch most of it as he groans and shudders above you. You can’t take your eyes off him, sweaty and shaky, muscles shifting under his pale skin as he rides his high. Your poor pussy clenches around nothing, deprived so suddenly of the intense pleasure. You swallow every last drop, using your fingers to collect whatever your mouth missed and popping it between your lips. Seungcheol is heaving as he shifts back.
Even though your legs are shaky and you feel dizzy, you manage to sit up, making wide, pleading eyes at your boyfriend.
“Can I clean you up?”
You can see how soft and fond his smile is, the little dimple indenting his cheek with it. He sits back leaning on his hands and nods.
“Go ahead, baby.”
You settle between his legs, using little kitten licks to clean your mess, and some of his, off his soft cock. It twitches under your ministrations, already getting half hard as you keep going. He sighs and hums approvingly, running a soft hand through your hair. This was half your motive, anyway, because you like to see this power you have over him. He’s in control, always, but his dick hardens at your very touch, and that makes you giddy.
He pulls you away with a gentle tug on your hair. You lick your lips for any remnants of his taste, blinking eagerly up at him.
“Lay back now.” He whispers. “I’m not done playing with that pretty cunt.”
He sits with your legs framing his hips, laid back on the mattress. You look up at him half with anticipation and half with hesitation, because you know he will toy with you until you’re begging to cum, and even then, you don’t know if he will let you.
He runs his hands gently up your thighs, delicate brushes that only wind you up more. You try to lay perfectly still, knowing he doesn’t like it when you’re impatient. He massages the creases of your thighs, playing with your pussy lips, stroking over them softly. You’re already sensitive from the harsh fucking he gave you just earlier, so you’re twitching a little before he has even properly touched you. You don’t want to beg, mostly because you still think you’re not entitled to it. This is for him. He wants to play with you, it’s not for your pleasure.
(You both know that it is.)
Finally, his fingers slide through your slit, parting your lips to open you up. Your hole quivers, twitches, and he watches it with heated eyes. He hums and his eyes are reverent as he traces the lines of your pussy. He nudges your clit just barely, and you let out your first, tiny moan.
“Don’t hold back, baby.” He coos. “You let me know whenever it feels good.”
You comply beautifully, little whimpers and sighs that accompany every touch of his fingers over your aching center. He takes his time as he toys with your clit, rubbing, flicking, pinching it until it is swollen and throbbing under his fingers. He circles your opening to collect the wetness, using it to smear over the rest of your cunt and leaving you wet all over. When you feel like your skin is quietly buzzing, hypersensitive because of his touches, he finally dips into your entrance, sliding his index finger in to the last knuckle. You sigh in palpable relief, clenching hard around the digit.
“Yes.” A tear slips down the side of your face. “Thank you, daddy.”
He likes that, because he moves it the exact way you want it, curling it and probing your most sensitive spot. He adds another quickly, watching every shift in your face as you swallow his fingers greedily. Two of his thick fingers means a stretch, the kind that you love, and when he scissors them inside you, you moan loudly.
After your last failed orgasm, this one builds too quickly. Your face pinches, your legs stiffening as you hold back. Seungcheol notices, and it only makes him finger you harder. You whine in protest.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He goads you.
“Feels-” You almost choke as he curls both fingers hard into your sweet spot. “Feels so good. Please.”
“Please what?”
You buck your hips into him, self control slipping. “Please, can I cum, daddy?”
Seungcheol hums, as if contemplating. His fingers don’t slow for a single second.
“I don’t know. Do you deserve it?”
Your face crumples. You want to, you do. But the submissive, depraved part inside you shakes its head. You know if you are to cum, you want it to be on his cock. So you squeeze your eyes shut and whimper out a little ‘no’.
“Then keep taking it like a good girl.” Seungcheol responds. You know he likes that you’re depriving yourself of this. It strikes a sick part of him. The sounds of his fingers fill the room, filthy, sopping noises that come from his digits slamming into you over and over. You are panting heavily, gripping the sheets so hard that you’re almost afraid you will rip them, toes curled and legs stiff, doing everything in your power to not gush over his fingers, to prove to him that you can take whatever he will give you and you won’t do anything you’re not allowed to.
Seungcheol pulls out his fingers just when you think you’re reaching your limit. His wet hand comes down with a harsh spank on your tingling pussy. You scream. He does it two more times, and you weep through it. Finally, you can’t take it anymore.
“Please.” You sob. “Please, daddy. Need your cock. Wanna cum on it, please.”
By this time, he is throbbing hard again, and he wastes not even a single second, groaning as he tugs your body down and stuffs your aching cunt full of himself once again. His pace from the start is rough and fast. There’s no indulgence in him anymore. Watching you shake and tremble under him as he abused your pussy must have been enough, because he is nothing but primal need now. He’s so hard it’s almost painful, like you’re being impaled, but the relief of the stretch has you wailing loudly. The room is dense with the smell of sweat, sex and cum, noises picking up as he fucks you the way you need. Your mind blanks, focused on nothing but the wonderful feeling of it. Your body sings, glows, buzzes with anticipation because this time, you know he will let you reach your peak.
You don’t even have to ask. He cups your jaw, tilts your head and slots his lips into yours. He kisses you until you can’t breathe, your walls spasming hard around him, more than ready, as he whispers.
“Cum.”
You nearly black out.
It’s less like a wave and more like an electric shock, shooting through your body and freezing every nerve inside you. Your breath catches and your lungs scream. You cry and wail through it, not even caring how you sound as you gush around Seungcheol’s cock. He rubs harshly over your poor clit, prolonging an already intense high. You arch so deeply you feel like your soul is leaving your body. You babble nonsense, a mix of swear words, thank yous, and incoherent phrases. Seungcheol holds you down after a bit, draping his weight over you to ground you, and it’s such a welcome feeling that your whole body relaxes into it. When the roaring in your ears lessens, you hear his endless praises, telling you how good you are, how sexy and perfect, cumming so beautifully like that. He thrusts shallowly into you, not even properly leaving your cunt, rutting into you so you’re not empty for a single second.
“That was divine, sweetheart.” He sighs. “So pretty when you cum. You want another reward for being such a good girl? You want my cum?”
You’re already nodding before he even finishes speaking, blinking your tear-heavy eyelids.
“Please, daddy. Need it.”
He shushes you, brushes the hair off your face and presses his forehead to yours.
“No more begging, baby. You deserve it.”
And then he floods you, two or three more thrusts until you feel warmth coat your insides. It’s perfect, it’s everything you could’ve asked for and more. He empties his balls into you, thrusting until it dampens into a slow grind, plugging his cum inside your thoroughly fucked out hole.
It’s silent for a long time before Seungcheol moves. Your chests rise and fall together, slowly catching your breaths. He’s draped over you still, and it feels so reassuring that you can’t help but whine in protest when he moves. It makes him chuckle.
“If you get cold like this, your muscles will be very sore in the morning, sweetheart.” He reasons. He would know, the gym freak that he is, so you curl into yourself as he trudges into the bathroom. You can hear water running, and a familiar fruity aroma quickly drifts into the room through the open door. He’s running you a bath.
The warm water is like balm on your skin as he carries your body into it. You moan appreciatively, letting your boyfriend knead and press into your thighs. His front presses against your back as he slowly works over you in blissful silence, laying tiny kisses on your shoulders as he works. After a while, he finally speaks.
“So,” he begins, “what happened at work today?”
You blink, thinking. After a few seconds, you giggle.
“Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.”
That makes him laugh. “Well, I guess that’s a job well done for me.”
You turn in his arms just a bit to lay a kiss on his lips, and he returns it so softly and sweetly that you almost want to cry. This time from unadulterated bliss.
You don’t even know if you have the words to tell Seungcheol how much you love him. But when he squeezes your body tightly to his, you think you don’t have to. He already knows.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 7.8k
warnings (for this chapter): war, fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, character death, some angst, mention of politics and the church, there is some historical inaccuracy but I did a lot of research and this has all happened in various monarchies previously lol, mentions of pregnancy.
a/n: this is NOT the last chapter! I’ve added one more to resolve the story and plot points, since squeezing it all into one was not working. So there will be six chaps total, followed by an epilogue!
series masterlist
When the sun rises over the distant mountains, Seungcheol watches the dark sky slowly lighten to a dim blue. He feels the breeze cool the sweat on his temples, nipping enough to be felt even below the sweltering plates of his armor. His hair blows, catching slightly on his eyelashes. He blinks to flick the strands away.
He can hear the crunching of the soil and rocks behind him, footsteps getting closer and coming to a halt right next to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the sky. He doesn’t know when it will be this clear again, because he is prepared to watch it fill with dust, fire and smoke.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He finally breaks the silence of the quiet morning.
Beside him, Jeonghan shifts. His armor is looser, so it clinks more precariously. Seungcheol makes a mental note to tighten it for him later. Jeonghan is not trained in combat, but he can hold his own very well as a defensive fighter. Seungcheol has all the faith in the world for him.
“And leave you alone for the final battle of our lives?” His friend scoffs.
Seungcheol’s mouth twitches. Finally, he turns his head to look at the man. Jeonghan watches the distant mountains just like him.
“It’s strange.” Seungcheol mumbles. “When I left the castle, I was sure I would make it back. I was confident, maybe even arrogant, in my own skill.”
Jeonghan sighs. The wind blows through his long hair, ruffling it. “This is not a question of your skill, though.”
His friend doesn't reply. Seungcheol watches the dark blue of the sky lighten some more. The stars are slowly disappearing.
“I wish I could see her just one more time.” He confesses in a whisper.
Jeonghan shifts from one foot to another.
“Seungcheol-ah.” He says in a casual, soft tone he has not used since the two men were teenagers. The familiarity of it squeezes Seungcheol’s heart. It makes his head turn. “I have something to tell you.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, waiting for his friend to continue. Somehow, this feels important.
“I talked to some people a few years ago.” He begins. “Just before I became advisor to the Crown Prince. I had questions, and I wanted answers before I accepted the appointment.”
Seungcheol stays silent.
“One of those people was Kwon Eunhee’s mother, my mother’s handmaid.” Jeonghan states. “She had connections, you know? People trusted her, especially that older generation of women. She was often there at the parlor parties. They drank a lot, turned loose-lipped. She knew a lot of things. For example, she knew why your mother left the castle.”
Seungcheol scowls. “She fell ill. She could no longer serve the Queen.”
Jeonghan sighs, and finally, he meets his friend’s eyes.
“She wasn’t ill, Seungcheol-ah. She was pregnant. With you.”
Seungcheol barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “She was not. She met my father after she left the castle.”
Jeonghan sighs, nodding. “I know that’s what she told you.”
Something gnaws at Seungcheol’s chest, like a twinge of irritation. “You think her untruthful?”
“I place no blame on her, but rather her circumstances.” Jeonghan immediately replies. “She did what she had to do for her survival, and yours. The Queen would not have let her stay, no matter what. All I know is that she was pregnant when she left, and your father- your biological one….”
Seungcheol watches his friend, comprehension slowly dawning on him like ink dropped in cold water. Slowly spreading, near torturous in its pace. He shakes his head, trying to stop it in its tracks, but the black encompasses everything, and before he knows it, Jeonghan’s meaning is laid out in front of him. Clear language that he cannot deny.
“No.” He manages to choke out.
Jeonghan looks tired, and in the early morning light, the bags under his eyes are prominent. He turns to the sky with a bleary gaze, eyelids fluttering shut like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“There will be no solid proof until the Queen Dowager herself confirms it.” He mumbles. “Which I doubt she will. But I got my hands on something before I left the castle. I left it with Kwon Eunhee, to be delivered to Her Majesty should you not return from this war.”
“What did you leave?” Seungcheol cannot recognise his own voice. Hollow and far away, like it is coming not from his own throat.
“A letter. Addressed to the Late King. I found it in his chambers after his death. Thankfully, no one got their hands on it before me. Or I cannot imagine the consequences.” Jeonghan shrugs. “It is from your late mother.”
Seungcheol watches the sky, the earth, but his gaze is unseeing. His mind reels, spins, and he wonders if he has still not woken. He has heard stories of his mother’s time in the castle his entire childhood. Is it true that she left out such a huge piece of them? If this is a sick dream, he should be roused from his sleep shortly, and he can put all this behind him as some wild imagination of his exhausted mind.
“She doesn’t know.” He says, referring to you. Jeonghan shakes his head.
“She has suspicions.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps up, shocked. Jeonghan takes one look at his face and decides to elaborate.
“The Queen Dowager said something to her about it.” He states. “Convoluted and not direct, but the meaning was clear enough. It’s the entire reason I thought to leave the letter to her. I had no intention of revealing this information had I not seen how distressed the mere notion of it left her.”
Distressed. Seungcheol’s heart squeezes. Has his newfound parentage left a negative impression in your mind? Will you speak to him again, look at him the same? Will he ever get the chance to explain himself to you, insist that he did not know?
Jeonghan seems to read his mind. He smiles a little, and there is placation in it.
“She is aware that none of this is in your knowledge.” He clarifies the doubt newly blooming in Seungcheol’s brain. “I made sure of that.”
It does little to settle Seungcheol’s worries. Briefly, he marvels at the fact that his first priority is still you, even though it feels like his very identity has been pulled out from under his feet. He is not surprised however, because his entire life’s purpose revolves around you. He breathes for you, bleeds for you, fights for you. It does not matter if he is under your bed covers, or thousands of miles away, standing along the border he must attack in a few hours’ time. And it does not matter whose blood runs through his veins. Jeonghan watches him, an apologetic look on his face.
“I had to tell you.” He whispers. “I could not die with this.”
When Seungcheol takes a deep breath, it is shaky and chopped. He reaches out and places a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder, the metal of his armor sturdy under the touch. Neither of them says anything, and Seungcheol decides he cannot think about this now. He is grateful to know, but he needs to focus. His life, his men’s, and his country’s future all hang in the balance. As the tents around them shuffle, whispers and sleep-laden voices rising, he just gives Jeonghan one final look. His friend smiles back.
It’s time.
………………………………….
When Eunhee shakes you awake, you are almost braced for bad news. Every night since the war began, you have slept with the fear of being woken up with sudden news from the border. Every muscle pulled taut in dreadful anticipation. Often, you cannot even manage to sleep, tossing and turning, uncomfortable, half because you are scared and paranoid, and half because of how heavy your hips feel now, lower back aching almost constantly these last few weeks.
“A royal messenger.” Your handmaid says. “He is waiting in your parlor.”
You are barely able to blink the sleep out of your eyes. Eunhee is scrambling to get your cloak on you. You know your stomach is now big enough to show a bit, so you wrap yourself carefully with the heavy velvet. Four months in, and your swelling figure means you have to be careful. Four months in, and you’re still contemplating on what to do to reveal your predicament.
It is not a concern at this very moment, though.
The royal messenger in question is covered head to toe in mud, and stands between two guards. He is wringing his hands, and his face is lined with exhaustion. You wonder fleetingly if he has slept at all in the last few days, or if he rode continuously to get to the castle. He bows deeply when you enter, Eunhee at your heels. You give the man a questioning look, imploring him to speak.
“Your Grace.” His voice is hoarse. It trembles. “I bear grievous tidings.”
You swallow tightly, dread shooting through you immediately. You steel your knees, willing them not to give out. Your mind is a mantra of Seungcheol’s name. You don’t dare speak it.
“His Majesty fell upon the field, fighting bravely against the enemy.”
Behind you, Eunhee gasps. The two guards stiffen, their faces betraying their shock. You feel bile rise to your throat, a familiar feeling as of recent, and you grip your cloak tightly. For a few seconds, no one makes a sound.
“I need to sit.” You choke out.
Quickly, Eunhee moves you towards a sofa in the center of the room. The royal messenger stands unsurely before you, silent. You have innumerable questions, but before you can ask any of them, you need to prepare.
“You.” You point to the guard closest to you. He straightens immediately. “Go awaken Lord Jeon.”
He nods and scampers out immediately. You gesture at the tired messenger, making him sit on the chair opposite to you. No one speaks for a good while. Silence hands heavy in the room. You let the news wash over you, and part of you feels disconnected from your own body.
Seojoon is dead.
You don’t know how to feel, truly. Despite everything, he was still your husband. Your standing within these four walls was connected explicitly to him. The implications of this on you, on this castle, on the entire monarchy, are heinous.
Soon enough, the heavy doors open again, and your steward walks in, face pinched in alarm and concern when he spots you and the man. His eyelids are heavy, swollen, and his clothes ruffled. You know he got here as hastily as he could.
“Wonwoo.” You mumble. “Record everything.”
He nods silently, placing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he shuffles to your writing desk in the corner of the room. Once he is seated, you turn back to the man bearing the news.
“Explain.” You grit. “Because the last letter I received from my brother, the King, explained that the tides were running in our favor.”
The messenger looks uncomfortable with the question, like he didn’t expect you to ask it. You are sure he didn’t, and that he was anticipating a lot of crying, tears, maybe even hysteria, and you being slowly escorted out of the room. But circumstances have changed. While not fighting, war has changed you too. You are the only person in this castle holding everyone and everything together. And now, with Seojoon’s death, there is no one of the Royal bloodline left. There is the possibility of your child being the continuation of said bloodline. But none of them know you are with child, and even then, your suspicion on the child being of Royal blood is flimsy. As far as everyone is aware, the Crown will fall unless you step up.
But you can’t. You are a foreign Queen, previously controversial. No matter how drastically your image has been rehabilitated, you are unsure commonfolk and castle nobility will accept you. Bloodlines are sacred, and you are not credible unless you are either of the bloodline, or you carry it.
Any step you take from here onward has to be very, very careful. When your eyes meet your steward’s from across the room, you know he understands this just as much as you do.
The messenger explains the surprise attack planned for one week ago, as ordered by the King. He talks of the consequences of it, the many casualties. You wait, fingers clenched, for Seungcheol’s name to come up. Or Jeonghan’s, any name you might recognise. Any indication that they are still alive. But confusion gnaws at you, and you try to make sense of the events that transpired, try to connect them with the letter you recently received from your brother up north. You are certain Seungcheol is not stupid enough to do something like this.
“I don’t understand.” You interrupt. The messenger immediately goes silent. “Why not wait for Mingyu? Or hold off until they had more resources? What was the reason to launch an attack like this?”
The messenger hesitates. You recognise the expression immediately as the one your staff use when they are holding their tongues out of respect. You don’t stand for it, since it often means they withhold valuable information or opinions.
“Out with it.” You snap. He flinches a little at your tone.
“There was opposition to His Majesty’s plan.” His voice trembles. “His generals and advisor were against it. The Garrison Commander disagreed with it vehemently as well.”
Your breath hitches. “And?”
The messenger sighs, and you notice just how weary he looks. You wonder how much bloodshed he witnessed with his own eyes. “His Majesty insisted.”
Something in his tone contains repressed bitterness. You know for a fact that Seojoon is hard headed and stupid enough to insist on a suicidal plan like this, and your heart goes out to every soldier made to carry it out who then lost their lives. You cannot imagine what the pain of the survivors can be. Once again, you curse Seojoon. He might have died, a fitting retribution for him, but in your eyes, he took many innocents with him as well. You doubt his people will ever forgive him, even in death.
You think carefully before speaking again. “Have we lost the border?”
That makes him lighten a little. “Thankfully, no. Sir Choi was able to secure the encampment shortly after. We are at a standstill, but His Majesty Kim’s army will be joining ours in a few days. I am not aware of the plan, but I can guess it will be their last big push.”
You feel relief wash over you like a bucket of cold water. Seungcheol is alive. He survived the horrific attack events, and was planning to retaliate after meeting up with Mingyu’s troops. If they succeed, he could be coming home soon.
Wonwoo helps draft a message for the man to carry into the castle courtyard to be delivered. You instruct him to do it with tact and leave out the gruesome details of the King’s fall. While you are sure word of mouth from the soldiers will soon spread, you are smart enough to know it cannot be part of the official statement. You will not take any negative blame for ruining Seojoon’s already bleak reputation. He will do that all on his own, even as a dead man.
You gather staff quickly afterward, the sleeping castle slowly waking when solemn church bells start sounding, slow and deliberate. Drapes around the castle are quickly replaced with black ones by maids and runners. Your own clothes, heavy black velvet, signal your mourning. Only you and Eunhee know that there is no real grief in your heart. But you are not as foolish as your late husband. You will not put on a disrespectful display as he did when his father passed. You are cleverer than that. You know how to play the role.
Thankfully, heavy black clothes means it is easier to hide your growing belly. Eunhee is particularly happy about this, as it makes her job infinitely easier. You forewent corsets a while ago, unable to bear them on your body any longer, and this new attire works in your favor.
Court is solemn, but brimmed with a feeling of distilled panic. Noblemen, all elders that were unable to fight in the war, as well as the many, many women, have one question in their mind only, you know this. The royal bloodline has perished. The Crown will fall, and there is no one left to bear it. You long to shout at the top of your lungs that the royal bloodline might not have ended after all, but you have no proof. You have nothing but the Queen Mother’s flimsy, cryptic jab. She refused to give you anything more. As you watch the unrest around you, the anxiety within the Church, you know what you must do.
You need confirmation.
You find the Queen Mother in her chambers that very night, not even a full day after hearing of your husband’s demise.
Her handmaids are shocked that you are here at this hour, with no prior notice and no request for an audience. But in every sense, you rank higher than your mother in law, so they cannot stop you even if they try. You find the woman in a cushioned, rocking chair in front of her fireplace, with a cup of tea that smells suspicious enough for you to conclude that it has alcohol inside.
“Queen Mother,” you greet. “I come with a request.”
She looks at you carefully, and for a long time. She does not offer for you to sit, but you take it regardless, seating yourself on the sofa to her left. You glance at the handmaids and dismiss them, telling them to wait outside with Eunhee. The woman continues to stare at you, her teaspoon swirling slowly in her cup, clinking when it hits the walls of it. It is the only sound in the room.
“You said I would bear an heir for this throne.” You cut straight to the point. “‘In any case’, you said. I need to know what you meant by that.”
She does not seem remotely surprised at your sharp tone, your lack of formality or manners. It’s almost like she expects it, like she would be more taken aback if you presented as meek and hesitant.
“So my ladies-in-waiting are right.” She hums. The teaspoon is still moving. Tight, tiny circles. “You are with child.”
You shrug. “They have no proof.”
She watches you again, and you can see her eyes shoot down to your stomach. Heavy drapings hide your figure. You know she is fishing for scraps. Scraps you will not give. You know better than that by now.
“His mother was my husband’s mistress.” She sniffles, eyes finally leaving yours and focusing on the fire dancing along the wall. You stiffen as she begins her story. “Young thing, she was. Dark hair. My husband liked that type.”
You try not to make a face at the implication.
“She found out about her child mere months after I found out about Seojoon.” The woman continues. Shockingly, you sense no grief in her voice. In the last year, it is true that she has made her disdain for her son clear, but you never expected her to be apathetic to the fact of his death. She was absent from Court too, but you are aware she is more of a recluse now.
“I would have sooner sliced a limb off than watched her birth my husband a child.” The Queen Mother’s tone hardens with indignation. “An illegitimate one at that, and so soon after Seojoon’s birth. So I gave her a choice. She leaves the castle, and I would guarantee a comfortable living for her for the rest of her measly life.”
You swallow tightly.
“But then came the news that she bore a son.” Your mother in law almost spits, her face twisting in a nasty expression. “And my husband wanted them brought back. Of course, I would never let that happen. So I compromised, because I have done that my whole life. He would be raised inside the castle, as a mere soldier, and he would serve the Crown, his true purpose. No one would take the glory, or the Throne, from my flesh and blood. I wouldn’t let him.”
“But he became a Knight.” You interject. “He gained power beyond just a soldier. You let that happen?”
She sets her cup down, not having taken a single sip.
“You think I had any say?” She whispers. You realise this is the first time you have ever heard her sound so frail, so resigned. The face, wrinkled with age, looks sadder and sadder the more you watch it. “There is only so far a woman’s power goes, even the one who bore an Heir. Especially if her own husband treats her like a fly he must swat away.”
You don’t say anything. You stare into the fire just as she does, watching the flames rise and fall, squirming and dancing over the wood. It crackles occasionally, volatile, alive. You sit for a long time. Your mother in law does not ask you to leave. You cannot remember the last time you spent more than a few minutes in her company, especially not alone.
“Tomorrow,” you finally break the silence, “you will attend Court. You will speak to the Church officials, especially the archbishop, and you will let them know that the royal bloodline still lives.”
The Queen Mother’s eyes flicker. She opens her mouth, but you don’t let her speak.
“You say you had no power.” You continue. “And you were right. For a long time, you didn’t. But tomorrow, you can decide the fate of this Crown, and of this entire nation. There is no other evidence. Your word, in a situation like this, in a Court where everyone is desperate for leadership, holds more power than even the law.”
As you stand, the Queen Mother does not move a single muscle.
“You can do with this power what you will. But I would hope that for once in your life, you will make the correct decision.”
You leave her by the fireplace, her tea cup still full on the table next to her, still smelling strongly, but unconsumed.
……………………………….
It takes a long time for the dust to settle, but some still lingers in the air, like a permanent companion to the oxygen needed by Seungcheol’s lungs. He breathes it in with every inhale. A week ago, when the dust rose for the first time with their attack, it stung his throat when he sucked it in. But now, he thinks his body has grown accustomed to the gritty feeling of it.
Along with the dust, something else hangs in the air. Something tense and tight, like anticipation tinged with dread. The metallic smell of blood was heavy for days, but it is slowly fading. The muscles of every soldier in the field are just as tense as this feeling that lingers between them. Seungcheol knows everyone is on edge. But for once, he has no intention of calming them down. They do not need calm right now, they need to remain alert.
He tells Jeonghan as much, and his friend just sighs tiredly. He does not disagree, because he knows letting their guard down would mean weakness. Their enemies are camped a mere few kilometers away from them, settled there after the bloodshed they caused and after Seungcheol painstakingly secured their camps again. Seungcheol can see them over the horizon. Which means they can see him and his men. Another battle is imminent, and they need to hold out for as long as they can. Mingyu is still a few days out. They cannot afford more casualties.
Everyone is still reeling.
Seungcheol walks the line, watches his men scamper around the perimeter they have secured. His right side twinges with every step he takes, pain shooting up his torso. He ignores it, eyes trained carefully on every weapon, every position. The first shift of the night is ready to guard. He talks to a few of his lieutenants, ensures the guard change six hours later will be as smooth as possible.
“Everything is planned out, Commander.” One of them reassures him. “Please rest.”
But Seungcheol cannot rest, even if he tries. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours since the attack. The rest of the time he spends leaning over the map laid on the table in his tent, trying over and over again to spot any gap in his defenses he can correct.
There is none, Jeonghan says, but he can never be too careful.
When the pain of walking becomes too much, Seungcheol knows he must lie down. He does not want his men to see him flinch, and so he bids them luck for the upcoming night. He doesn’t exhale until he has pushed into his encampment. Only then, does he let the shaky breath rattle through his chest, face crumpling.
“Should I call the medic?” Jeonghan voices from where he is lying on his blanket. Seungcheol shakes his head, loosening the metal plates over his waist.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.”
He just huffs and stumbles to his own sleeping bag. He doesn’t flop down on it, lowering himself carefully. The armor digs painfully into his skin. He doesn’t dare take it off. He can hear Jeonghan huff and shift, puttering out of the tent. He has no energy to protest. He just closes his eyes.
For the first time in many months of war, Seungcheol feels like his morale is not where it should be.
As much as he despised his late King and how dispensable that man was for this war, he knows what a monarch means in times like this. The King was less of a man and more of a symbol. His demise has done irreparable damage to the spirits of his troops. He knows what they are all thinking; what are we fighting for? Who are we laying our lives down for?
Some part of Seungcheol hopes that this doubt will be eased slightly when Mingyu arrives. While not their king, Mingyu is still of royal blood, and a good leader. The soldiers recognise him as someone to follow, and that might boost them a little. They need that desperately, because right now, there is nothing but fear and uncertainty. As it goes, Seungcheol knows he is the only reason any of them have not surrendered right now. They respect him too much.
Jeonghan returns with the medic in tow, a tall, battle hardened man who goes by the name of Seokmin. Unfortunately, Seungcheol has become intimately familiar with him, since his wound is one of the worse ones between the survivors.
“Hurts again?” Seokmin gives him a soft smile. Seungcheol only nods. His entire side is throbbing, and he can’t speak because he fears his voice will break.
“Let’s take a look.”
Jeonghan helps Seokmin take the plates of his armor off and lift his shirt. Despite his stature, Seokmin has soft hands, those of a medic, and he is careful as he peels away the bandage holding steadfastly to the long, slashing wound on Seungcheol’s side. Seungcheol tries to breathe deep as the air stings it. Seokmin’s face is blank, but Jeonghan’s grimace gives everything away.
“It’s not healing properly.” He mumbles.
Jeonghan scoffs. “Of course it’s not. He doesn’t tend to it at all. Doesn’t clean it. Doesn’t get it regularly bandaged.”
“We can’t waste resources.” Seungcheol mumbles, but there is no fight in his voice. He feels something wet hit the wound. Seokmin starts tidying the area.
“You’re not a martyr.” Jeonghan snaps. “You’re the only thing keeping these men standing.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth and doesn’t reply. The only sound in the tent is Seokmin working on his wound, and Jeonghan’s occasional huffs of frustration. Seungcheol cannot remember the last time his friend was so on edge. Jeonghan has always been level headed and calm, one step ahead of everyone around him. War can change even the most reliable of people.
Seungcheol is adamant he will not change. He promised you he would come back. He will be damned if he returns to you a different man.
When Seokmin leaves, Jeonghan extinguishes the lantern in their room. Seungcheol stares straight up, unseeing in the pitch darkness. The moon is high in the sky above, so a very dim light illuminates them both. Jeonghan has his back to him, but Seungcheol can tell his breaths are uneven. He isn’t asleep yet.
On sleepless nights like these, Seungcheol often wonders about you. He knows the news of the King’s demise has reached the castle by now. In fact, the messenger he sent might be on his way back with a response soon, a plan of action. He wonders what your reaction was, how you dealt with the news. He knows you enough to know that emotionally, it means nearly nothing to you, but the political implications of it must be intense. There is no ruling King right now. The Crown is in danger. What must you be doing? How must you be handling it? Desperately, he wishes he could split himself into two so he could be there with you, to help ease your burden. His only solace is that Wonwoo is there. A trusted friend, a great ally, and someone who holds you in high regard. He knows Wonwoo can help you deal with it, he’s whip-smart, and Seungcheol picked him as your steward for a reason.
He just hopes it’s not too much for you.
Seungcheol’s predictions for Wonwoo are accurate, as back in the castle, the Lord runs possibilities in his head like they are calculations. An algorithm in his mind, eyes unfocused, sitting before you rock still as he thinks. His first fully formed notion is that he is grateful that you told him this before it was announced to the Courts. The revelation of another possible heir is not something to be taken lightly. While the King having illegitimate children is not surprising, considering how many mistresses he had, said child being a well decorated Knight could cause great disruption among the castle clergy. So Wonwoo prefers being prepared.
His second thought is; things are about to become very unstable. He voices as much to you, watching as you sigh deeply and close your eyes for a brief second, like you are accepting his warning.
“I assume it will be.” You reply. “This is shocking information.”
Eunhee is serving tea, and Wonwoo gratefully accepts the cup. The warm liquid wets his parched throat, and he didn’t even realise he was so thirsty.
“I want to know possibilities.” You continue. “When the Queen Mother announces this to the Courts, I’m assuming there will be questions.”
Wonwoo nods, contemplating. “Her word is very heavy evidence. However, I fear we might need more.”
Something clinks loudly, and both your faces turn to where Eunhee is carefully placing a cup on the table beside your armchair. She clears her throat, and Wonwoo notices how tense she is. When she looks up, her eyes meet his directly. Immediately, something in Wonwoo’s mind scratches at him.
“What is it?” He addresses her.
You look confused, eyes flitting between your steward and your handmaid. Eunhee hesitates. Wonwoo watches closely as her hand reaches into her belt, tugging something out. A piece of folded paper, yellow and worn, wilting at the edges, held closed by a wax seal.
“This was given to me by Chief Councillor Yoon before he left for the battlefield.” Eunhee’s voice is uncertain, like she doesn’t know if she is doing the right thing. “He instructed me to reveal it only in the circumstances of Sir Choi’s death but…”
“Eunhee.” You sound shocked, looking at the woman with wide eyes. Eunhee bows deeply, leaning heavily on her knees.
“I’m deeply apologetic, Your Majesty.” She sounds sincere. “I gave him my word.”
You huff and nod, though you still look slightly miffed. You take the letter carefully from Eunhee’s hands and undo the seal. The paper crinkles as it opens.
Wonwoo watches patiently as you read over it, eyebrows furrowing initially before your face smooths with shock. Curiosity gnaws at him, but he holds his tongue. Finally, when you are done, you look up at him with a fire in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while. He blinks when you hold the letter out to him. He watches a small smile slowly stretch over your face.
“This is all we will need, Wonwoo.” Your voice is reinvigorated. “This is it.”
Wonwoo is quick to read the contents, the neat scrawl of the woman’s handwriting, the full story behind Sir Choi’s conception, and the agreement to bring him back to the castle when he is a young boy to train him as a royal guard. Something in Wonwoo’s veins lights up. He lets out a long sigh he didn’t even know he was holding, and nods approvingly.
“You are correct, Your Majesty.” He smiles. “This is it.”
He watches you exchange a giddy smile with Eunhee. Wonwoo straightens and clears his throat to get your attention again.
“While the Queen Mother’s word and this letter are certainly convincing,” he states, “your own standing is vital.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Wonwoo sighs. “As flimsy as it may be, yours is the only authority in this castle right now. Sir Choi’s ascension to the Throne depends on every action you take in his absence.”
You nod resolutely. “Tell me what to do and I will do it.”
Wonwoo watches you closely, the determination in your face. He takes a deep breath, a thought forming in his head.
“Your Majesty,” he says delicately, “it is important that you know what Sir Choi receiving the Crown will mean for you.”
Wonwoo straightens and leans closer. “I know you two have a good rapport between you, but my job is to prepare you for everything, so I am telling you this. I am certain he will ensure your comfort as Queen Dowager under his reign. Likely he will have you settled in a castle off grounds, but with your own staff. You can live there with much ease…”
Wonwoo trails off as he watches a smile slowly spreading on your face, confused at your reaction. You reach forward, and he stiffens in shock when you pat his arm, as if reassuring him.
“Do not worry about that, Wonwoo.” You state. There is a little twinkle in your eye, and for the first time, Wonwoo isn’t sure he can guess what you are thinking.
…………………………………
The next few days are a critical whirlwind.
Wonwoo’s instructions are clear, and you trust his advice completely. Immediately after dawn, you are already dressed in dark colors of mourning, the appropriate attire for a widow, and on your way to the Church, requesting audience with the archbishop. That is the first step, according to your steward.
If there is any hope of legitimising Sir Choi, we need the backing of the Church.
After hearing your story and showing him the letter, with reassurances of the Queen Mother’s word in today’s upcoming Court, you get the archbishop’s promise of support. You know there are supporting factors on why he agreed. You are popular in the Church because of your respect for them, and you also know Seojoon metaphorically spat on their faces with the mistresses he flaunted so much. Seungcheol is not only a well respected Knight, but already a war hero. That, and the Church’s insistence on maintaining the Crown means that the archbishop is quick to persuade. Wonwoo’s spirits are high as you leave, just as the sun is rising above the castle walls.
“Now we have witness testimony, a written record, and backing from the Church.” He gives you a smile, his eyes shining behind his spectacles. “The Crown will absolutely be preserved. I cannot imagine any nobles or lords staging a coup after we have moved so quickly.”
You nod, feeling your chest tighten with excitement. You think of Seungcheol, about him finding out, and the thought immediately makes you gasp, tapping Wonwoo’s arm.
“The messenger has not left, has he?” You ask. Wonwoo frowns.
“Not yet, Your Majesty. He just got here two nights ago.”
You nod resolutely. “Draft a message for him, Wonwoo. A sealed envelope meant for Seungcheol’s hand only. And one for Jeonghan. The troops must know who their new King is.”
Wonwoo laughs, and you realise this is the first time you’ve heard that sound from him. He reflects how happy you feel on the inside. “Right away, my lady. As soon as the council recognises Sir Choi as Heir Presumptive, I will ensure that noble testimony is written and recorded. The messenger will set out immediately, as well as a few more on alternate routes. The word must get to him fast.”
You cannot tamp down your smile. It takes every bit of self control to move through the castle with a somber face.
…………………………………..
It is early dawn when the sound of restless murmurs rouses Seungcheol. He blinks a few times, watching a faded light filter through the thick cloth of his tent. He is careful as he sits up, mindful of his wound. Jeonghan is already awake, hair all over the place, watching the tent entrance with swollen eyes and a frown on his face.
“I will go check out what is going on.” He offers, voice still heavy with sleep. Seungcheol nods.
Jeonghan stumbles up to his feet, curses when his ankle gets caught in the blanket and shakes it off. Seungcheol sighs and smooths his hair. Outside, the voices are getting closer. Before he or Jeonghan can react, he hears tapping on the wooden post holding up his tent, a makeshift knock.
“Sir,” Joshua’s voice is tense. “May I enter? It’s urgent.”
Jeonghan gives Seungcheol a look. Seungcheol calls out an affirmative.
Joshua walks in, bowing respectfully. He holds the flap open, and another man pokes his head in. Seungcheol tenses. It’s his herald, the messenger he sent to the castle. The man immediately sinks to his knee, bowing deeply. Seungcheol frowns at the excessive show of respect.
“Messages from the council.” He says, holding up two envelopes. They are waxed shut, the Royal family’s crest embossed on it. Seungcheol holds his hand out, as does Jeonghan.
The wax crackles as Seungcheol breaks it with his dagger, pulling the parchment open. It is an official declaration, stamped ink on top, and very long. He begins reading from the start, and as he goes, slowly, he feels the life drain out of his fingertips.
“Lords above.” He hears Jeonghan whisper. But it is far away, because blood is roaring in Seungcheol’s ears. His eyes move frantically, passing over names, declarations, testimonies, he freezes as your own signature, your own declaration, among the many nobles, the clergy, the archbishop. There’s shuffling at his side.
“Joshua.” Jeonghan’s voice is hard. “Wait outside. Both of you.”
The men shuffle out. Immediately, Jeonghan kneels by Seungcheol’s side, a heavy hand on his shoulder. Finally, Seungcheol looks up.
Jeonghan looks as winded as he feels, and one look at his friend makes the raven-haired man let out an incredulous laugh.
“Her Majesty is really something, isn’t she?” He mumbles. “I cannot even begin to imagine how she managed this.”
Seungcheol lets out a long breath, shaking his head. It’s more of a stiff jerk than anything else. He cannot believe it, mind still reeling. He hasn’t even processed Jeonghan’s revelation yet, the fact that he is of royal blood, and now he hears from the Royal Council that he has been declared the successor to the Throne, the Heir Presumptive.
“Okay.” He looks up at Jeonghan’s voice, watching his friend’s face harden, determined. He can see the cogs in Jeonghan’s brain already turning.
“First of all, we need information.” He begins, seating himself crosslegged in front of Seungcheol. “We need to know how many nobles have sworn loyalty to you, whether the capital is secure, and if any rival emergents are laying claim on the Throne instead-”
Seungcheol holds his own letter out, much heftier than Jeonghan’s. He takes it and reads it over. Seungcheol stares into space.
A King. A King. His head rings with the title.
“Okay, this is good.” Jeonghan nods, more to himself than Seungcheol. This is him in his element, assessing situations, politics, royal standings. Seungcheol feels like he’s drowning, but he knows Jeonghan won’t let him suffocate.
“They want me to return immediately for the coronation.” He states, voice hollow.
Jeonghan nods. “That is standard. You need to secure authority and prevent the Crown from being usurped.”
Seungcheol huffs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to feel, but one thing is for certain in his head.
“I cannot leave.” He states. “Not like this. If I ride now, I abandon the troops. And if the troops fall, there will be no kingdom left to rule.”
Jeonghan watches him quietly, contemplating. “You’re right. If you leave now, the soldiers will see it as abandonment.”
Silence stretches between the two men. Seungcheol watches the frown in between Jeonghan’s eyebrows, thinking. Finally, the man nods to himself.
“Okay,” he begins. “First, you need to write a reply to the council acknowledging the claim. Promise to them that you will return after securing the battlefield with the key victory. Mingyu will be here in a few days, and we can make our move. So likely, it won’t be delayed for too long.”
Seungcheol nods, feeling better as Jeonghan slowly solidifies a plan. His friend keeps talking.
“I will write back as well, asking the council to make declarations to the people.” He mumbles. “Of course, you not returning immediately comes with risks. Council can grow anxious. Some may even question your judgement. But that’s what your lovely lady is for.”
Jeonghan smiles as he says it, the first proper smile Seungcheol has seen from him in weeks. He can’t help it, he lets out a small laugh.
“How did she do it?” He muses out loud. Jeonghan shrugs.
“She’s smarter than any of us give her credit for, I suppose.”
That makes Seungcheol shake his head, feeling that familiar smile that the thought of you brings to his face.
“Never. I’ve always known she was clever.”
“Right.” Jeonghan nods. “I will never question her again. Or you.”
Seungcheol punches at his chest. Jeonghan laughs and slowly stands up.
“Alright then,” he brushes off his pants. “Ready to address your troops, Your Majesty?”
If Jeonghan didn’t immediately step away, Seungcheol would’ve punched him again. Instead, he just laughs, shaking his head.
“Remember, straight face.” Jeonghan warns. “You can’t celebrate this publicly.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
…………………………..
Mingyu looks worn in a way Seungcheol has never seen him before, but his smile is wide. He embraces Seungcheol before Seungcheol can bow to him, a gesture he doesn’t expect, but it is over before he can react. He realises that of course, he now holds the same status as Mingyu, so there is no need for him to bow. Mingyu’s hand is heavy on Seungcheol’s shoulder, and his grin doesn’t fade for a single second.
“When I got my sister’s letter, I was over the moon.” The King says in lieu of greeting. “I hope my words mean something to you when I say, this is the best thing that has happened for your country in many, many years.”
Seungcheol feels his chest swell. For days, he has lived in uncertainty with the newfound information he received. While Jeonghan moved with confidence, like he has prepared for this his whole life, Seungcheol felt like a fish out of water. Mingyu’s words, the validation from a monarch, invigorates him in a way he never expected.
The troops merge, strategies set in place by Seungcheol and Jeonghan over the last few weeks finally taking shape. Mingyu is resolute and confident, and Seungcheol feels much more in his element as he explains the plan of attack he came up with to secure the key victory. Outside his encampment, he can hear commotion as everyone rallies one last time. He knows this is it, the final stand. What happens today will determine if both their nations will stand or if they will fall.
At dawn, everyone stands at attention, weapons held tightly to their sides, armor in place, knees steady, heads high. Seungcheol stands before them, toe to toe with Mingyu, Jeonghan two paces behind them. He eyes his second in command, Joshua, standing before the troops and facing Seungcheol and Mingyu. The Kings. It’s still difficult to digest.
When Joshua shifts, Seungcheol’s eyes find him immediately. Briefly, their stares meet. He watches as Joshua reaches up and pulls off his helmet. Slowly, he lowers himself to one knee, placing his helmet before him, lowered to the ground.
Seungcheol watches, shocked. Beside him, Mingyu does not move. There is more shifting among the formations, helmets pulled off, knees meeting the dirt, helmets placed before them. Seungcheol feels his heart pound as they all kneel. The feeling of numbness in his limbs, something that has persisted for days, finally starts ebbing away. He hears Mingyu hum.
“Field recognition.” He murmurs. “I’m impressed.”
Seungcheol knows, immediately, that this is their oath. They are swearing fealty to him in this battle, acknowledging him as their king. In every sense of the word, this is a makeshift coronation.
For the first time since he was a child, Seungcheol feels like he might shed tears.
A fire lights in his chest, invigorating and all encompassing. He knows what he must do. In this moment, his purpose is clear. He feels the support of hundreds, thousands, like living beings inside him, holding him up, egging him on. Your signature on the parchment of his declaration is seared into his brain. He will win this fight, for his men, and for you, because no one has believed in him the way you have.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 7.8k
warnings (for this chapter): war, fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, character death, some angst, mention of politics and the church, there is some historical inaccuracy but I did a lot of research and this has all happened in various monarchies previously lol, mentions of pregnancy.
a/n: this is NOT the last chapter! I’ve added one more to resolve the story and plot points, since squeezing it all into one was not working. So there will be six chaps total, followed by an epilogue!
series masterlist
When the sun rises over the distant mountains, Seungcheol watches the dark sky slowly lighten to a dim blue. He feels the breeze cool the sweat on his temples, nipping enough to be felt even below the sweltering plates of his armor. His hair blows, catching slightly on his eyelashes. He blinks to flick the strands away.
He can hear the crunching of the soil and rocks behind him, footsteps getting closer and coming to a halt right next to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the sky. He doesn’t know when it will be this clear again, because he is prepared to watch it fill with dust, fire and smoke.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He finally breaks the silence of the quiet morning.
Beside him, Jeonghan shifts. His armor is looser, so it clinks more precariously. Seungcheol makes a mental note to tighten it for him later. Jeonghan is not trained in combat, but he can hold his own very well as a defensive fighter. Seungcheol has all the faith in the world for him.
“And leave you alone for the final battle of our lives?” His friend scoffs.
Seungcheol’s mouth twitches. Finally, he turns his head to look at the man. Jeonghan watches the distant mountains just like him.
“It’s strange.” Seungcheol mumbles. “When I left the castle, I was sure I would make it back. I was confident, maybe even arrogant, in my own skill.”
Jeonghan sighs. The wind blows through his long hair, ruffling it. “This is not a question of your skill, though.”
His friend doesn't reply. Seungcheol watches the dark blue of the sky lighten some more. The stars are slowly disappearing.
“I wish I could see her just one more time.” He confesses in a whisper.
Jeonghan shifts from one foot to another.
“Seungcheol-ah.” He says in a casual, soft tone he has not used since the two men were teenagers. The familiarity of it squeezes Seungcheol’s heart. It makes his head turn. “I have something to tell you.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, waiting for his friend to continue. Somehow, this feels important.
“I talked to some people a few years ago.” He begins. “Just before I became advisor to the Crown Prince. I had questions, and I wanted answers before I accepted the appointment.”
Seungcheol stays silent.
“One of those people was Kwon Eunhee’s mother, my mother’s handmaid.” Jeonghan states. “She had connections, you know? People trusted her, especially that older generation of women. She was often there at the parlor parties. They drank a lot, turned loose-lipped. She knew a lot of things. For example, she knew why your mother left the castle.”
Seungcheol scowls. “She fell ill. She could no longer serve the Queen.”
Jeonghan sighs, and finally, he meets his friend’s eyes.
“She wasn’t ill, Seungcheol-ah. She was pregnant. With you.”
Seungcheol barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “She was not. She met my father after she left the castle.”
Jeonghan sighs, nodding. “I know that’s what she told you.”
Something gnaws at Seungcheol’s chest, like a twinge of irritation. “You think her untruthful?”
“I place no blame on her, but rather her circumstances.” Jeonghan immediately replies. “She did what she had to do for her survival, and yours. The Queen would not have let her stay, no matter what. All I know is that she was pregnant when she left, and your father- your biological one….”
Seungcheol watches his friend, comprehension slowly dawning on him like ink dropped in cold water. Slowly spreading, near torturous in its pace. He shakes his head, trying to stop it in its tracks, but the black encompasses everything, and before he knows it, Jeonghan’s meaning is laid out in front of him. Clear language that he cannot deny.
“No.” He manages to choke out.
Jeonghan looks tired, and in the early morning light, the bags under his eyes are prominent. He turns to the sky with a bleary gaze, eyelids fluttering shut like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“There will be no solid proof until the Queen Dowager herself confirms it.” He mumbles. “Which I doubt she will. But I got my hands on something before I left the castle. I left it with Kwon Eunhee, to be delivered to Her Majesty should you not return from this war.”
“What did you leave?” Seungcheol cannot recognise his own voice. Hollow and far away, like it is coming not from his own throat.
“A letter. Addressed to the Late King. I found it in his chambers after his death. Thankfully, no one got their hands on it before me. Or I cannot imagine the consequences.” Jeonghan shrugs. “It is from your late mother.”
Seungcheol watches the sky, the earth, but his gaze is unseeing. His mind reels, spins, and he wonders if he has still not woken. He has heard stories of his mother’s time in the castle his entire childhood. Is it true that she left out such a huge piece of them? If this is a sick dream, he should be roused from his sleep shortly, and he can put all this behind him as some wild imagination of his exhausted mind.
“She doesn’t know.” He says, referring to you. Jeonghan shakes his head.
“She has suspicions.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps up, shocked. Jeonghan takes one look at his face and decides to elaborate.
“The Queen Dowager said something to her about it.” He states. “Convoluted and not direct, but the meaning was clear enough. It’s the entire reason I thought to leave the letter to her. I had no intention of revealing this information had I not seen how distressed the mere notion of it left her.”
Distressed. Seungcheol’s heart squeezes. Has his newfound parentage left a negative impression in your mind? Will you speak to him again, look at him the same? Will he ever get the chance to explain himself to you, insist that he did not know?
Jeonghan seems to read his mind. He smiles a little, and there is placation in it.
“She is aware that none of this is in your knowledge.” He clarifies the doubt newly blooming in Seungcheol’s brain. “I made sure of that.”
It does little to settle Seungcheol’s worries. Briefly, he marvels at the fact that his first priority is still you, even though it feels like his very identity has been pulled out from under his feet. He is not surprised however, because his entire life’s purpose revolves around you. He breathes for you, bleeds for you, fights for you. It does not matter if he is under your bed covers, or thousands of miles away, standing along the border he must attack in a few hours’ time. And it does not matter whose blood runs through his veins. Jeonghan watches him, an apologetic look on his face.
“I had to tell you.” He whispers. “I could not die with this.”
When Seungcheol takes a deep breath, it is shaky and chopped. He reaches out and places a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder, the metal of his armor sturdy under the touch. Neither of them says anything, and Seungcheol decides he cannot think about this now. He is grateful to know, but he needs to focus. His life, his men’s, and his country’s future all hang in the balance. As the tents around them shuffle, whispers and sleep-laden voices rising, he just gives Jeonghan one final look. His friend smiles back.
It’s time.
………………………………….
When Eunhee shakes you awake, you are almost braced for bad news. Every night since the war began, you have slept with the fear of being woken up with sudden news from the border. Every muscle pulled taut in dreadful anticipation. Often, you cannot even manage to sleep, tossing and turning, uncomfortable, half because you are scared and paranoid, and half because of how heavy your hips feel now, lower back aching almost constantly these last few weeks.
“A royal messenger.” Your handmaid says. “He is waiting in your parlor.”
You are barely able to blink the sleep out of your eyes. Eunhee is scrambling to get your cloak on you. You know your stomach is now big enough to show a bit, so you wrap yourself carefully with the heavy velvet. Four months in, and your swelling figure means you have to be careful. Four months in, and you’re still contemplating on what to do to reveal your predicament.
It is not a concern at this very moment, though.
The royal messenger in question is covered head to toe in mud, and stands between two guards. He is wringing his hands, and his face is lined with exhaustion. You wonder fleetingly if he has slept at all in the last few days, or if he rode continuously to get to the castle. He bows deeply when you enter, Eunhee at your heels. You give the man a questioning look, imploring him to speak.
“Your Grace.” His voice is hoarse. It trembles. “I bear grievous tidings.”
You swallow tightly, dread shooting through you immediately. You steel your knees, willing them not to give out. Your mind is a mantra of Seungcheol’s name. You don’t dare speak it.
“His Majesty fell upon the field, fighting bravely against the enemy.”
Behind you, Eunhee gasps. The two guards stiffen, their faces betraying their shock. You feel bile rise to your throat, a familiar feeling as of recent, and you grip your cloak tightly. For a few seconds, no one makes a sound.
“I need to sit.” You choke out.
Quickly, Eunhee moves you towards a sofa in the center of the room. The royal messenger stands unsurely before you, silent. You have innumerable questions, but before you can ask any of them, you need to prepare.
“You.” You point to the guard closest to you. He straightens immediately. “Go awaken Lord Jeon.”
He nods and scampers out immediately. You gesture at the tired messenger, making him sit on the chair opposite to you. No one speaks for a good while. Silence hands heavy in the room. You let the news wash over you, and part of you feels disconnected from your own body.
Seojoon is dead.
You don’t know how to feel, truly. Despite everything, he was still your husband. Your standing within these four walls was connected explicitly to him. The implications of this on you, on this castle, on the entire monarchy, are heinous.
Soon enough, the heavy doors open again, and your steward walks in, face pinched in alarm and concern when he spots you and the man. His eyelids are heavy, swollen, and his clothes ruffled. You know he got here as hastily as he could.
“Wonwoo.” You mumble. “Record everything.”
He nods silently, placing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he shuffles to your writing desk in the corner of the room. Once he is seated, you turn back to the man bearing the news.
“Explain.” You grit. “Because the last letter I received from my brother, the King, explained that the tides were running in our favor.”
The messenger looks uncomfortable with the question, like he didn’t expect you to ask it. You are sure he didn’t, and that he was anticipating a lot of crying, tears, maybe even hysteria, and you being slowly escorted out of the room. But circumstances have changed. While not fighting, war has changed you too. You are the only person in this castle holding everyone and everything together. And now, with Seojoon’s death, there is no one of the Royal bloodline left. There is the possibility of your child being the continuation of said bloodline. But none of them know you are with child, and even then, your suspicion on the child being of Royal blood is flimsy. As far as everyone is aware, the Crown will fall unless you step up.
But you can’t. You are a foreign Queen, previously controversial. No matter how drastically your image has been rehabilitated, you are unsure commonfolk and castle nobility will accept you. Bloodlines are sacred, and you are not credible unless you are either of the bloodline, or you carry it.
Any step you take from here onward has to be very, very careful. When your eyes meet your steward’s from across the room, you know he understands this just as much as you do.
The messenger explains the surprise attack planned for one week ago, as ordered by the King. He talks of the consequences of it, the many casualties. You wait, fingers clenched, for Seungcheol’s name to come up. Or Jeonghan’s, any name you might recognise. Any indication that they are still alive. But confusion gnaws at you, and you try to make sense of the events that transpired, try to connect them with the letter you recently received from your brother up north. You are certain Seungcheol is not stupid enough to do something like this.
“I don’t understand.” You interrupt. The messenger immediately goes silent. “Why not wait for Mingyu? Or hold off until they had more resources? What was the reason to launch an attack like this?”
The messenger hesitates. You recognise the expression immediately as the one your staff use when they are holding their tongues out of respect. You don’t stand for it, since it often means they withhold valuable information or opinions.
“Out with it.” You snap. He flinches a little at your tone.
“There was opposition to His Majesty’s plan.” His voice trembles. “His generals and advisor were against it. The Garrison Commander disagreed with it vehemently as well.”
Your breath hitches. “And?”
The messenger sighs, and you notice just how weary he looks. You wonder how much bloodshed he witnessed with his own eyes. “His Majesty insisted.”
Something in his tone contains repressed bitterness. You know for a fact that Seojoon is hard headed and stupid enough to insist on a suicidal plan like this, and your heart goes out to every soldier made to carry it out who then lost their lives. You cannot imagine what the pain of the survivors can be. Once again, you curse Seojoon. He might have died, a fitting retribution for him, but in your eyes, he took many innocents with him as well. You doubt his people will ever forgive him, even in death.
You think carefully before speaking again. “Have we lost the border?”
That makes him lighten a little. “Thankfully, no. Sir Choi was able to secure the encampment shortly after. We are at a standstill, but His Majesty Kim’s army will be joining ours in a few days. I am not aware of the plan, but I can guess it will be their last big push.”
You feel relief wash over you like a bucket of cold water. Seungcheol is alive. He survived the horrific attack events, and was planning to retaliate after meeting up with Mingyu’s troops. If they succeed, he could be coming home soon.
Wonwoo helps draft a message for the man to carry into the castle courtyard to be delivered. You instruct him to do it with tact and leave out the gruesome details of the King’s fall. While you are sure word of mouth from the soldiers will soon spread, you are smart enough to know it cannot be part of the official statement. You will not take any negative blame for ruining Seojoon’s already bleak reputation. He will do that all on his own, even as a dead man.
You gather staff quickly afterward, the sleeping castle slowly waking when solemn church bells start sounding, slow and deliberate. Drapes around the castle are quickly replaced with black ones by maids and runners. Your own clothes, heavy black velvet, signal your mourning. Only you and Eunhee know that there is no real grief in your heart. But you are not as foolish as your late husband. You will not put on a disrespectful display as he did when his father passed. You are cleverer than that. You know how to play the role.
Thankfully, heavy black clothes means it is easier to hide your growing belly. Eunhee is particularly happy about this, as it makes her job infinitely easier. You forewent corsets a while ago, unable to bear them on your body any longer, and this new attire works in your favor.
Court is solemn, but brimmed with a feeling of distilled panic. Noblemen, all elders that were unable to fight in the war, as well as the many, many women, have one question in their mind only, you know this. The royal bloodline has perished. The Crown will fall, and there is no one left to bear it. You long to shout at the top of your lungs that the royal bloodline might not have ended after all, but you have no proof. You have nothing but the Queen Mother’s flimsy, cryptic jab. She refused to give you anything more. As you watch the unrest around you, the anxiety within the Church, you know what you must do.
You need confirmation.
You find the Queen Mother in her chambers that very night, not even a full day after hearing of your husband’s demise.
Her handmaids are shocked that you are here at this hour, with no prior notice and no request for an audience. But in every sense, you rank higher than your mother in law, so they cannot stop you even if they try. You find the woman in a cushioned, rocking chair in front of her fireplace, with a cup of tea that smells suspicious enough for you to conclude that it has alcohol inside.
“Queen Mother,” you greet. “I come with a request.”
She looks at you carefully, and for a long time. She does not offer for you to sit, but you take it regardless, seating yourself on the sofa to her left. You glance at the handmaids and dismiss them, telling them to wait outside with Eunhee. The woman continues to stare at you, her teaspoon swirling slowly in her cup, clinking when it hits the walls of it. It is the only sound in the room.
“You said I would bear an heir for this throne.” You cut straight to the point. “‘In any case’, you said. I need to know what you meant by that.”
She does not seem remotely surprised at your sharp tone, your lack of formality or manners. It’s almost like she expects it, like she would be more taken aback if you presented as meek and hesitant.
“So my ladies-in-waiting are right.” She hums. The teaspoon is still moving. Tight, tiny circles. “You are with child.”
You shrug. “They have no proof.”
She watches you again, and you can see her eyes shoot down to your stomach. Heavy drapings hide your figure. You know she is fishing for scraps. Scraps you will not give. You know better than that by now.
“His mother was my husband’s mistress.” She sniffles, eyes finally leaving yours and focusing on the fire dancing along the wall. You stiffen as she begins her story. “Young thing, she was. Dark hair. My husband liked that type.”
You try not to make a face at the implication.
“She found out about her child mere months after I found out about Seojoon.” The woman continues. Shockingly, you sense no grief in her voice. In the last year, it is true that she has made her disdain for her son clear, but you never expected her to be apathetic to the fact of his death. She was absent from Court too, but you are aware she is more of a recluse now.
“I would have sooner sliced a limb off than watched her birth my husband a child.” The Queen Mother’s tone hardens with indignation. “An illegitimate one at that, and so soon after Seojoon’s birth. So I gave her a choice. She leaves the castle, and I would guarantee a comfortable living for her for the rest of her measly life.”
You swallow tightly.
“But then came the news that she bore a son.” Your mother in law almost spits, her face twisting in a nasty expression. “And my husband wanted them brought back. Of course, I would never let that happen. So I compromised, because I have done that my whole life. He would be raised inside the castle, as a mere soldier, and he would serve the Crown, his true purpose. No one would take the glory, or the Throne, from my flesh and blood. I wouldn’t let him.”
“But he became a Knight.” You interject. “He gained power beyond just a soldier. You let that happen?”
She sets her cup down, not having taken a single sip.
“You think I had any say?” She whispers. You realise this is the first time you have ever heard her sound so frail, so resigned. The face, wrinkled with age, looks sadder and sadder the more you watch it. “There is only so far a woman’s power goes, even the one who bore an Heir. Especially if her own husband treats her like a fly he must swat away.”
You don’t say anything. You stare into the fire just as she does, watching the flames rise and fall, squirming and dancing over the wood. It crackles occasionally, volatile, alive. You sit for a long time. Your mother in law does not ask you to leave. You cannot remember the last time you spent more than a few minutes in her company, especially not alone.
“Tomorrow,” you finally break the silence, “you will attend Court. You will speak to the Church officials, especially the archbishop, and you will let them know that the royal bloodline still lives.”
The Queen Mother’s eyes flicker. She opens her mouth, but you don’t let her speak.
“You say you had no power.” You continue. “And you were right. For a long time, you didn’t. But tomorrow, you can decide the fate of this Crown, and of this entire nation. There is no other evidence. Your word, in a situation like this, in a Court where everyone is desperate for leadership, holds more power than even the law.”
As you stand, the Queen Mother does not move a single muscle.
“You can do with this power what you will. But I would hope that for once in your life, you will make the correct decision.”
You leave her by the fireplace, her tea cup still full on the table next to her, still smelling strongly, but unconsumed.
……………………………….
It takes a long time for the dust to settle, but some still lingers in the air, like a permanent companion to the oxygen needed by Seungcheol’s lungs. He breathes it in with every inhale. A week ago, when the dust rose for the first time with their attack, it stung his throat when he sucked it in. But now, he thinks his body has grown accustomed to the gritty feeling of it.
Along with the dust, something else hangs in the air. Something tense and tight, like anticipation tinged with dread. The metallic smell of blood was heavy for days, but it is slowly fading. The muscles of every soldier in the field are just as tense as this feeling that lingers between them. Seungcheol knows everyone is on edge. But for once, he has no intention of calming them down. They do not need calm right now, they need to remain alert.
He tells Jeonghan as much, and his friend just sighs tiredly. He does not disagree, because he knows letting their guard down would mean weakness. Their enemies are camped a mere few kilometers away from them, settled there after the bloodshed they caused and after Seungcheol painstakingly secured their camps again. Seungcheol can see them over the horizon. Which means they can see him and his men. Another battle is imminent, and they need to hold out for as long as they can. Mingyu is still a few days out. They cannot afford more casualties.
Everyone is still reeling.
Seungcheol walks the line, watches his men scamper around the perimeter they have secured. His right side twinges with every step he takes, pain shooting up his torso. He ignores it, eyes trained carefully on every weapon, every position. The first shift of the night is ready to guard. He talks to a few of his lieutenants, ensures the guard change six hours later will be as smooth as possible.
“Everything is planned out, Commander.” One of them reassures him. “Please rest.”
But Seungcheol cannot rest, even if he tries. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours since the attack. The rest of the time he spends leaning over the map laid on the table in his tent, trying over and over again to spot any gap in his defenses he can correct.
There is none, Jeonghan says, but he can never be too careful.
When the pain of walking becomes too much, Seungcheol knows he must lie down. He does not want his men to see him flinch, and so he bids them luck for the upcoming night. He doesn’t exhale until he has pushed into his encampment. Only then, does he let the shaky breath rattle through his chest, face crumpling.
“Should I call the medic?” Jeonghan voices from where he is lying on his blanket. Seungcheol shakes his head, loosening the metal plates over his waist.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.”
He just huffs and stumbles to his own sleeping bag. He doesn’t flop down on it, lowering himself carefully. The armor digs painfully into his skin. He doesn’t dare take it off. He can hear Jeonghan huff and shift, puttering out of the tent. He has no energy to protest. He just closes his eyes.
For the first time in many months of war, Seungcheol feels like his morale is not where it should be.
As much as he despised his late King and how dispensable that man was for this war, he knows what a monarch means in times like this. The King was less of a man and more of a symbol. His demise has done irreparable damage to the spirits of his troops. He knows what they are all thinking; what are we fighting for? Who are we laying our lives down for?
Some part of Seungcheol hopes that this doubt will be eased slightly when Mingyu arrives. While not their king, Mingyu is still of royal blood, and a good leader. The soldiers recognise him as someone to follow, and that might boost them a little. They need that desperately, because right now, there is nothing but fear and uncertainty. As it goes, Seungcheol knows he is the only reason any of them have not surrendered right now. They respect him too much.
Jeonghan returns with the medic in tow, a tall, battle hardened man who goes by the name of Seokmin. Unfortunately, Seungcheol has become intimately familiar with him, since his wound is one of the worse ones between the survivors.
“Hurts again?” Seokmin gives him a soft smile. Seungcheol only nods. His entire side is throbbing, and he can’t speak because he fears his voice will break.
“Let’s take a look.”
Jeonghan helps Seokmin take the plates of his armor off and lift his shirt. Despite his stature, Seokmin has soft hands, those of a medic, and he is careful as he peels away the bandage holding steadfastly to the long, slashing wound on Seungcheol’s side. Seungcheol tries to breathe deep as the air stings it. Seokmin’s face is blank, but Jeonghan’s grimace gives everything away.
“It’s not healing properly.” He mumbles.
Jeonghan scoffs. “Of course it’s not. He doesn’t tend to it at all. Doesn’t clean it. Doesn’t get it regularly bandaged.”
“We can’t waste resources.” Seungcheol mumbles, but there is no fight in his voice. He feels something wet hit the wound. Seokmin starts tidying the area.
“You’re not a martyr.” Jeonghan snaps. “You’re the only thing keeping these men standing.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth and doesn’t reply. The only sound in the tent is Seokmin working on his wound, and Jeonghan’s occasional huffs of frustration. Seungcheol cannot remember the last time his friend was so on edge. Jeonghan has always been level headed and calm, one step ahead of everyone around him. War can change even the most reliable of people.
Seungcheol is adamant he will not change. He promised you he would come back. He will be damned if he returns to you a different man.
When Seokmin leaves, Jeonghan extinguishes the lantern in their room. Seungcheol stares straight up, unseeing in the pitch darkness. The moon is high in the sky above, so a very dim light illuminates them both. Jeonghan has his back to him, but Seungcheol can tell his breaths are uneven. He isn’t asleep yet.
On sleepless nights like these, Seungcheol often wonders about you. He knows the news of the King’s demise has reached the castle by now. In fact, the messenger he sent might be on his way back with a response soon, a plan of action. He wonders what your reaction was, how you dealt with the news. He knows you enough to know that emotionally, it means nearly nothing to you, but the political implications of it must be intense. There is no ruling King right now. The Crown is in danger. What must you be doing? How must you be handling it? Desperately, he wishes he could split himself into two so he could be there with you, to help ease your burden. His only solace is that Wonwoo is there. A trusted friend, a great ally, and someone who holds you in high regard. He knows Wonwoo can help you deal with it, he’s whip-smart, and Seungcheol picked him as your steward for a reason.
He just hopes it’s not too much for you.
Seungcheol’s predictions for Wonwoo are accurate, as back in the castle, the Lord runs possibilities in his head like they are calculations. An algorithm in his mind, eyes unfocused, sitting before you rock still as he thinks. His first fully formed notion is that he is grateful that you told him this before it was announced to the Courts. The revelation of another possible heir is not something to be taken lightly. While the King having illegitimate children is not surprising, considering how many mistresses he had, said child being a well decorated Knight could cause great disruption among the castle clergy. So Wonwoo prefers being prepared.
His second thought is; things are about to become very unstable. He voices as much to you, watching as you sigh deeply and close your eyes for a brief second, like you are accepting his warning.
“I assume it will be.” You reply. “This is shocking information.”
Eunhee is serving tea, and Wonwoo gratefully accepts the cup. The warm liquid wets his parched throat, and he didn’t even realise he was so thirsty.
“I want to know possibilities.” You continue. “When the Queen Mother announces this to the Courts, I’m assuming there will be questions.”
Wonwoo nods, contemplating. “Her word is very heavy evidence. However, I fear we might need more.”
Something clinks loudly, and both your faces turn to where Eunhee is carefully placing a cup on the table beside your armchair. She clears her throat, and Wonwoo notices how tense she is. When she looks up, her eyes meet his directly. Immediately, something in Wonwoo’s mind scratches at him.
“What is it?” He addresses her.
You look confused, eyes flitting between your steward and your handmaid. Eunhee hesitates. Wonwoo watches closely as her hand reaches into her belt, tugging something out. A piece of folded paper, yellow and worn, wilting at the edges, held closed by a wax seal.
“This was given to me by Chief Councillor Yoon before he left for the battlefield.” Eunhee’s voice is uncertain, like she doesn’t know if she is doing the right thing. “He instructed me to reveal it only in the circumstances of Sir Choi’s death but…”
“Eunhee.” You sound shocked, looking at the woman with wide eyes. Eunhee bows deeply, leaning heavily on her knees.
“I’m deeply apologetic, Your Majesty.” She sounds sincere. “I gave him my word.”
You huff and nod, though you still look slightly miffed. You take the letter carefully from Eunhee’s hands and undo the seal. The paper crinkles as it opens.
Wonwoo watches patiently as you read over it, eyebrows furrowing initially before your face smooths with shock. Curiosity gnaws at him, but he holds his tongue. Finally, when you are done, you look up at him with a fire in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while. He blinks when you hold the letter out to him. He watches a small smile slowly stretch over your face.
“This is all we will need, Wonwoo.” Your voice is reinvigorated. “This is it.”
Wonwoo is quick to read the contents, the neat scrawl of the woman’s handwriting, the full story behind Sir Choi’s conception, and the agreement to bring him back to the castle when he is a young boy to train him as a royal guard. Something in Wonwoo’s veins lights up. He lets out a long sigh he didn’t even know he was holding, and nods approvingly.
“You are correct, Your Majesty.” He smiles. “This is it.”
He watches you exchange a giddy smile with Eunhee. Wonwoo straightens and clears his throat to get your attention again.
“While the Queen Mother’s word and this letter are certainly convincing,” he states, “your own standing is vital.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Wonwoo sighs. “As flimsy as it may be, yours is the only authority in this castle right now. Sir Choi’s ascension to the Throne depends on every action you take in his absence.”
You nod resolutely. “Tell me what to do and I will do it.”
Wonwoo watches you closely, the determination in your face. He takes a deep breath, a thought forming in his head.
“Your Majesty,” he says delicately, “it is important that you know what Sir Choi receiving the Crown will mean for you.”
Wonwoo straightens and leans closer. “I know you two have a good rapport between you, but my job is to prepare you for everything, so I am telling you this. I am certain he will ensure your comfort as Queen Dowager under his reign. Likely he will have you settled in a castle off grounds, but with your own staff. You can live there with much ease…”
Wonwoo trails off as he watches a smile slowly spreading on your face, confused at your reaction. You reach forward, and he stiffens in shock when you pat his arm, as if reassuring him.
“Do not worry about that, Wonwoo.” You state. There is a little twinkle in your eye, and for the first time, Wonwoo isn’t sure he can guess what you are thinking.
…………………………………
The next few days are a critical whirlwind.
Wonwoo’s instructions are clear, and you trust his advice completely. Immediately after dawn, you are already dressed in dark colors of mourning, the appropriate attire for a widow, and on your way to the Church, requesting audience with the archbishop. That is the first step, according to your steward.
If there is any hope of legitimising Sir Choi, we need the backing of the Church.
After hearing your story and showing him the letter, with reassurances of the Queen Mother’s word in today’s upcoming Court, you get the archbishop’s promise of support. You know there are supporting factors on why he agreed. You are popular in the Church because of your respect for them, and you also know Seojoon metaphorically spat on their faces with the mistresses he flaunted so much. Seungcheol is not only a well respected Knight, but already a war hero. That, and the Church’s insistence on maintaining the Crown means that the archbishop is quick to persuade. Wonwoo’s spirits are high as you leave, just as the sun is rising above the castle walls.
“Now we have witness testimony, a written record, and backing from the Church.” He gives you a smile, his eyes shining behind his spectacles. “The Crown will absolutely be preserved. I cannot imagine any nobles or lords staging a coup after we have moved so quickly.”
You nod, feeling your chest tighten with excitement. You think of Seungcheol, about him finding out, and the thought immediately makes you gasp, tapping Wonwoo’s arm.
“The messenger has not left, has he?” You ask. Wonwoo frowns.
“Not yet, Your Majesty. He just got here two nights ago.”
You nod resolutely. “Draft a message for him, Wonwoo. A sealed envelope meant for Seungcheol’s hand only. And one for Jeonghan. The troops must know who their new King is.”
Wonwoo laughs, and you realise this is the first time you’ve heard that sound from him. He reflects how happy you feel on the inside. “Right away, my lady. As soon as the council recognises Sir Choi as Heir Presumptive, I will ensure that noble testimony is written and recorded. The messenger will set out immediately, as well as a few more on alternate routes. The word must get to him fast.”
You cannot tamp down your smile. It takes every bit of self control to move through the castle with a somber face.
…………………………………..
It is early dawn when the sound of restless murmurs rouses Seungcheol. He blinks a few times, watching a faded light filter through the thick cloth of his tent. He is careful as he sits up, mindful of his wound. Jeonghan is already awake, hair all over the place, watching the tent entrance with swollen eyes and a frown on his face.
“I will go check out what is going on.” He offers, voice still heavy with sleep. Seungcheol nods.
Jeonghan stumbles up to his feet, curses when his ankle gets caught in the blanket and shakes it off. Seungcheol sighs and smooths his hair. Outside, the voices are getting closer. Before he or Jeonghan can react, he hears tapping on the wooden post holding up his tent, a makeshift knock.
“Sir,” Joshua’s voice is tense. “May I enter? It’s urgent.”
Jeonghan gives Seungcheol a look. Seungcheol calls out an affirmative.
Joshua walks in, bowing respectfully. He holds the flap open, and another man pokes his head in. Seungcheol tenses. It’s his herald, the messenger he sent to the castle. The man immediately sinks to his knee, bowing deeply. Seungcheol frowns at the excessive show of respect.
“Messages from the council.” He says, holding up two envelopes. They are waxed shut, the Royal family’s crest embossed on it. Seungcheol holds his hand out, as does Jeonghan.
The wax crackles as Seungcheol breaks it with his dagger, pulling the parchment open. It is an official declaration, stamped ink on top, and very long. He begins reading from the start, and as he goes, slowly, he feels the life drain out of his fingertips.
“Lords above.” He hears Jeonghan whisper. But it is far away, because blood is roaring in Seungcheol’s ears. His eyes move frantically, passing over names, declarations, testimonies, he freezes as your own signature, your own declaration, among the many nobles, the clergy, the archbishop. There’s shuffling at his side.
“Joshua.” Jeonghan’s voice is hard. “Wait outside. Both of you.”
The men shuffle out. Immediately, Jeonghan kneels by Seungcheol’s side, a heavy hand on his shoulder. Finally, Seungcheol looks up.
Jeonghan looks as winded as he feels, and one look at his friend makes the raven-haired man let out an incredulous laugh.
“Her Majesty is really something, isn’t she?” He mumbles. “I cannot even begin to imagine how she managed this.”
Seungcheol lets out a long breath, shaking his head. It’s more of a stiff jerk than anything else. He cannot believe it, mind still reeling. He hasn’t even processed Jeonghan’s revelation yet, the fact that he is of royal blood, and now he hears from the Royal Council that he has been declared the successor to the Throne, the Heir Presumptive.
“Okay.” He looks up at Jeonghan’s voice, watching his friend’s face harden, determined. He can see the cogs in Jeonghan’s brain already turning.
“First of all, we need information.” He begins, seating himself crosslegged in front of Seungcheol. “We need to know how many nobles have sworn loyalty to you, whether the capital is secure, and if any rival emergents are laying claim on the Throne instead-”
Seungcheol holds his own letter out, much heftier than Jeonghan’s. He takes it and reads it over. Seungcheol stares into space.
A King. A King. His head rings with the title.
“Okay, this is good.” Jeonghan nods, more to himself than Seungcheol. This is him in his element, assessing situations, politics, royal standings. Seungcheol feels like he’s drowning, but he knows Jeonghan won’t let him suffocate.
“They want me to return immediately for the coronation.” He states, voice hollow.
Jeonghan nods. “That is standard. You need to secure authority and prevent the Crown from being usurped.”
Seungcheol huffs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to feel, but one thing is for certain in his head.
“I cannot leave.” He states. “Not like this. If I ride now, I abandon the troops. And if the troops fall, there will be no kingdom left to rule.”
Jeonghan watches him quietly, contemplating. “You’re right. If you leave now, the soldiers will see it as abandonment.”
Silence stretches between the two men. Seungcheol watches the frown in between Jeonghan’s eyebrows, thinking. Finally, the man nods to himself.
“Okay,” he begins. “First, you need to write a reply to the council acknowledging the claim. Promise to them that you will return after securing the battlefield with the key victory. Mingyu will be here in a few days, and we can make our move. So likely, it won’t be delayed for too long.”
Seungcheol nods, feeling better as Jeonghan slowly solidifies a plan. His friend keeps talking.
“I will write back as well, asking the council to make declarations to the people.” He mumbles. “Of course, you not returning immediately comes with risks. Council can grow anxious. Some may even question your judgement. But that’s what your lovely lady is for.”
Jeonghan smiles as he says it, the first proper smile Seungcheol has seen from him in weeks. He can’t help it, he lets out a small laugh.
“How did she do it?” He muses out loud. Jeonghan shrugs.
“She’s smarter than any of us give her credit for, I suppose.”
That makes Seungcheol shake his head, feeling that familiar smile that the thought of you brings to his face.
“Never. I’ve always known she was clever.”
“Right.” Jeonghan nods. “I will never question her again. Or you.”
Seungcheol punches at his chest. Jeonghan laughs and slowly stands up.
“Alright then,” he brushes off his pants. “Ready to address your troops, Your Majesty?”
If Jeonghan didn’t immediately step away, Seungcheol would’ve punched him again. Instead, he just laughs, shaking his head.
“Remember, straight face.” Jeonghan warns. “You can’t celebrate this publicly.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
…………………………..
Mingyu looks worn in a way Seungcheol has never seen him before, but his smile is wide. He embraces Seungcheol before Seungcheol can bow to him, a gesture he doesn’t expect, but it is over before he can react. He realises that of course, he now holds the same status as Mingyu, so there is no need for him to bow. Mingyu’s hand is heavy on Seungcheol’s shoulder, and his grin doesn’t fade for a single second.
“When I got my sister’s letter, I was over the moon.” The King says in lieu of greeting. “I hope my words mean something to you when I say, this is the best thing that has happened for your country in many, many years.”
Seungcheol feels his chest swell. For days, he has lived in uncertainty with the newfound information he received. While Jeonghan moved with confidence, like he has prepared for this his whole life, Seungcheol felt like a fish out of water. Mingyu’s words, the validation from a monarch, invigorates him in a way he never expected.
The troops merge, strategies set in place by Seungcheol and Jeonghan over the last few weeks finally taking shape. Mingyu is resolute and confident, and Seungcheol feels much more in his element as he explains the plan of attack he came up with to secure the key victory. Outside his encampment, he can hear commotion as everyone rallies one last time. He knows this is it, the final stand. What happens today will determine if both their nations will stand or if they will fall.
At dawn, everyone stands at attention, weapons held tightly to their sides, armor in place, knees steady, heads high. Seungcheol stands before them, toe to toe with Mingyu, Jeonghan two paces behind them. He eyes his second in command, Joshua, standing before the troops and facing Seungcheol and Mingyu. The Kings. It’s still difficult to digest.
When Joshua shifts, Seungcheol’s eyes find him immediately. Briefly, their stares meet. He watches as Joshua reaches up and pulls off his helmet. Slowly, he lowers himself to one knee, placing his helmet before him, lowered to the ground.
Seungcheol watches, shocked. Beside him, Mingyu does not move. There is more shifting among the formations, helmets pulled off, knees meeting the dirt, helmets placed before them. Seungcheol feels his heart pound as they all kneel. The feeling of numbness in his limbs, something that has persisted for days, finally starts ebbing away. He hears Mingyu hum.
“Field recognition.” He murmurs. “I’m impressed.”
Seungcheol knows, immediately, that this is their oath. They are swearing fealty to him in this battle, acknowledging him as their king. In every sense of the word, this is a makeshift coronation.
For the first time since he was a child, Seungcheol feels like he might shed tears.
A fire lights in his chest, invigorating and all encompassing. He knows what he must do. In this moment, his purpose is clear. He feels the support of hundreds, thousands, like living beings inside him, holding him up, egging him on. Your signature on the parchment of his declaration is seared into his brain. He will win this fight, for his men, and for you, because no one has believed in him the way you have.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 7.8k
warnings (for this chapter): war, fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, character death, some angst, mention of politics and the church, there is some historical inaccuracy but I did a lot of research and this has all happened in various monarchies previously lol, mentions of pregnancy.
a/n: this is NOT the last chapter! I’ve added one more to resolve the story and plot points, since squeezing it all into one was not working. So there will be six chaps total, followed by an epilogue!
series masterlist
When the sun rises over the distant mountains, Seungcheol watches the dark sky slowly lighten to a dim blue. He feels the breeze cool the sweat on his temples, nipping enough to be felt even below the sweltering plates of his armor. His hair blows, catching slightly on his eyelashes. He blinks to flick the strands away.
He can hear the crunching of the soil and rocks behind him, footsteps getting closer and coming to a halt right next to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the sky. He doesn’t know when it will be this clear again, because he is prepared to watch it fill with dust, fire and smoke.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He finally breaks the silence of the quiet morning.
Beside him, Jeonghan shifts. His armor is looser, so it clinks more precariously. Seungcheol makes a mental note to tighten it for him later. Jeonghan is not trained in combat, but he can hold his own very well as a defensive fighter. Seungcheol has all the faith in the world for him.
“And leave you alone for the final battle of our lives?” His friend scoffs.
Seungcheol’s mouth twitches. Finally, he turns his head to look at the man. Jeonghan watches the distant mountains just like him.
“It’s strange.” Seungcheol mumbles. “When I left the castle, I was sure I would make it back. I was confident, maybe even arrogant, in my own skill.”
Jeonghan sighs. The wind blows through his long hair, ruffling it. “This is not a question of your skill, though.”
His friend doesn't reply. Seungcheol watches the dark blue of the sky lighten some more. The stars are slowly disappearing.
“I wish I could see her just one more time.” He confesses in a whisper.
Jeonghan shifts from one foot to another.
“Seungcheol-ah.” He says in a casual, soft tone he has not used since the two men were teenagers. The familiarity of it squeezes Seungcheol’s heart. It makes his head turn. “I have something to tell you.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, waiting for his friend to continue. Somehow, this feels important.
“I talked to some people a few years ago.” He begins. “Just before I became advisor to the Crown Prince. I had questions, and I wanted answers before I accepted the appointment.”
Seungcheol stays silent.
“One of those people was Kwon Eunhee’s mother, my mother’s handmaid.” Jeonghan states. “She had connections, you know? People trusted her, especially that older generation of women. She was often there at the parlor parties. They drank a lot, turned loose-lipped. She knew a lot of things. For example, she knew why your mother left the castle.”
Seungcheol scowls. “She fell ill. She could no longer serve the Queen.”
Jeonghan sighs, and finally, he meets his friend’s eyes.
“She wasn’t ill, Seungcheol-ah. She was pregnant. With you.”
Seungcheol barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “She was not. She met my father after she left the castle.”
Jeonghan sighs, nodding. “I know that’s what she told you.”
Something gnaws at Seungcheol’s chest, like a twinge of irritation. “You think her untruthful?”
“I place no blame on her, but rather her circumstances.” Jeonghan immediately replies. “She did what she had to do for her survival, and yours. The Queen would not have let her stay, no matter what. All I know is that she was pregnant when she left, and your father- your biological one….”
Seungcheol watches his friend, comprehension slowly dawning on him like ink dropped in cold water. Slowly spreading, near torturous in its pace. He shakes his head, trying to stop it in its tracks, but the black encompasses everything, and before he knows it, Jeonghan’s meaning is laid out in front of him. Clear language that he cannot deny.
“No.” He manages to choke out.
Jeonghan looks tired, and in the early morning light, the bags under his eyes are prominent. He turns to the sky with a bleary gaze, eyelids fluttering shut like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“There will be no solid proof until the Queen Dowager herself confirms it.” He mumbles. “Which I doubt she will. But I got my hands on something before I left the castle. I left it with Kwon Eunhee, to be delivered to Her Majesty should you not return from this war.”
“What did you leave?” Seungcheol cannot recognise his own voice. Hollow and far away, like it is coming not from his own throat.
“A letter. Addressed to the Late King. I found it in his chambers after his death. Thankfully, no one got their hands on it before me. Or I cannot imagine the consequences.” Jeonghan shrugs. “It is from your late mother.”
Seungcheol watches the sky, the earth, but his gaze is unseeing. His mind reels, spins, and he wonders if he has still not woken. He has heard stories of his mother’s time in the castle his entire childhood. Is it true that she left out such a huge piece of them? If this is a sick dream, he should be roused from his sleep shortly, and he can put all this behind him as some wild imagination of his exhausted mind.
“She doesn’t know.” He says, referring to you. Jeonghan shakes his head.
“She has suspicions.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps up, shocked. Jeonghan takes one look at his face and decides to elaborate.
“The Queen Dowager said something to her about it.” He states. “Convoluted and not direct, but the meaning was clear enough. It’s the entire reason I thought to leave the letter to her. I had no intention of revealing this information had I not seen how distressed the mere notion of it left her.”
Distressed. Seungcheol’s heart squeezes. Has his newfound parentage left a negative impression in your mind? Will you speak to him again, look at him the same? Will he ever get the chance to explain himself to you, insist that he did not know?
Jeonghan seems to read his mind. He smiles a little, and there is placation in it.
“She is aware that none of this is in your knowledge.” He clarifies the doubt newly blooming in Seungcheol’s brain. “I made sure of that.”
It does little to settle Seungcheol’s worries. Briefly, he marvels at the fact that his first priority is still you, even though it feels like his very identity has been pulled out from under his feet. He is not surprised however, because his entire life’s purpose revolves around you. He breathes for you, bleeds for you, fights for you. It does not matter if he is under your bed covers, or thousands of miles away, standing along the border he must attack in a few hours’ time. And it does not matter whose blood runs through his veins. Jeonghan watches him, an apologetic look on his face.
“I had to tell you.” He whispers. “I could not die with this.”
When Seungcheol takes a deep breath, it is shaky and chopped. He reaches out and places a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder, the metal of his armor sturdy under the touch. Neither of them says anything, and Seungcheol decides he cannot think about this now. He is grateful to know, but he needs to focus. His life, his men’s, and his country’s future all hang in the balance. As the tents around them shuffle, whispers and sleep-laden voices rising, he just gives Jeonghan one final look. His friend smiles back.
It’s time.
………………………………….
When Eunhee shakes you awake, you are almost braced for bad news. Every night since the war began, you have slept with the fear of being woken up with sudden news from the border. Every muscle pulled taut in dreadful anticipation. Often, you cannot even manage to sleep, tossing and turning, uncomfortable, half because you are scared and paranoid, and half because of how heavy your hips feel now, lower back aching almost constantly these last few weeks.
“A royal messenger.” Your handmaid says. “He is waiting in your parlor.”
You are barely able to blink the sleep out of your eyes. Eunhee is scrambling to get your cloak on you. You know your stomach is now big enough to show a bit, so you wrap yourself carefully with the heavy velvet. Four months in, and your swelling figure means you have to be careful. Four months in, and you’re still contemplating on what to do to reveal your predicament.
It is not a concern at this very moment, though.
The royal messenger in question is covered head to toe in mud, and stands between two guards. He is wringing his hands, and his face is lined with exhaustion. You wonder fleetingly if he has slept at all in the last few days, or if he rode continuously to get to the castle. He bows deeply when you enter, Eunhee at your heels. You give the man a questioning look, imploring him to speak.
“Your Grace.” His voice is hoarse. It trembles. “I bear grievous tidings.”
You swallow tightly, dread shooting through you immediately. You steel your knees, willing them not to give out. Your mind is a mantra of Seungcheol’s name. You don’t dare speak it.
“His Majesty fell upon the field, fighting bravely against the enemy.”
Behind you, Eunhee gasps. The two guards stiffen, their faces betraying their shock. You feel bile rise to your throat, a familiar feeling as of recent, and you grip your cloak tightly. For a few seconds, no one makes a sound.
“I need to sit.” You choke out.
Quickly, Eunhee moves you towards a sofa in the center of the room. The royal messenger stands unsurely before you, silent. You have innumerable questions, but before you can ask any of them, you need to prepare.
“You.” You point to the guard closest to you. He straightens immediately. “Go awaken Lord Jeon.”
He nods and scampers out immediately. You gesture at the tired messenger, making him sit on the chair opposite to you. No one speaks for a good while. Silence hands heavy in the room. You let the news wash over you, and part of you feels disconnected from your own body.
Seojoon is dead.
You don’t know how to feel, truly. Despite everything, he was still your husband. Your standing within these four walls was connected explicitly to him. The implications of this on you, on this castle, on the entire monarchy, are heinous.
Soon enough, the heavy doors open again, and your steward walks in, face pinched in alarm and concern when he spots you and the man. His eyelids are heavy, swollen, and his clothes ruffled. You know he got here as hastily as he could.
“Wonwoo.” You mumble. “Record everything.”
He nods silently, placing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he shuffles to your writing desk in the corner of the room. Once he is seated, you turn back to the man bearing the news.
“Explain.” You grit. “Because the last letter I received from my brother, the King, explained that the tides were running in our favor.”
The messenger looks uncomfortable with the question, like he didn’t expect you to ask it. You are sure he didn’t, and that he was anticipating a lot of crying, tears, maybe even hysteria, and you being slowly escorted out of the room. But circumstances have changed. While not fighting, war has changed you too. You are the only person in this castle holding everyone and everything together. And now, with Seojoon’s death, there is no one of the Royal bloodline left. There is the possibility of your child being the continuation of said bloodline. But none of them know you are with child, and even then, your suspicion on the child being of Royal blood is flimsy. As far as everyone is aware, the Crown will fall unless you step up.
But you can’t. You are a foreign Queen, previously controversial. No matter how drastically your image has been rehabilitated, you are unsure commonfolk and castle nobility will accept you. Bloodlines are sacred, and you are not credible unless you are either of the bloodline, or you carry it.
Any step you take from here onward has to be very, very careful. When your eyes meet your steward’s from across the room, you know he understands this just as much as you do.
The messenger explains the surprise attack planned for one week ago, as ordered by the King. He talks of the consequences of it, the many casualties. You wait, fingers clenched, for Seungcheol’s name to come up. Or Jeonghan’s, any name you might recognise. Any indication that they are still alive. But confusion gnaws at you, and you try to make sense of the events that transpired, try to connect them with the letter you recently received from your brother up north. You are certain Seungcheol is not stupid enough to do something like this.
“I don’t understand.” You interrupt. The messenger immediately goes silent. “Why not wait for Mingyu? Or hold off until they had more resources? What was the reason to launch an attack like this?”
The messenger hesitates. You recognise the expression immediately as the one your staff use when they are holding their tongues out of respect. You don’t stand for it, since it often means they withhold valuable information or opinions.
“Out with it.” You snap. He flinches a little at your tone.
“There was opposition to His Majesty’s plan.” His voice trembles. “His generals and advisor were against it. The Garrison Commander disagreed with it vehemently as well.”
Your breath hitches. “And?”
The messenger sighs, and you notice just how weary he looks. You wonder how much bloodshed he witnessed with his own eyes. “His Majesty insisted.”
Something in his tone contains repressed bitterness. You know for a fact that Seojoon is hard headed and stupid enough to insist on a suicidal plan like this, and your heart goes out to every soldier made to carry it out who then lost their lives. You cannot imagine what the pain of the survivors can be. Once again, you curse Seojoon. He might have died, a fitting retribution for him, but in your eyes, he took many innocents with him as well. You doubt his people will ever forgive him, even in death.
You think carefully before speaking again. “Have we lost the border?”
That makes him lighten a little. “Thankfully, no. Sir Choi was able to secure the encampment shortly after. We are at a standstill, but His Majesty Kim’s army will be joining ours in a few days. I am not aware of the plan, but I can guess it will be their last big push.”
You feel relief wash over you like a bucket of cold water. Seungcheol is alive. He survived the horrific attack events, and was planning to retaliate after meeting up with Mingyu’s troops. If they succeed, he could be coming home soon.
Wonwoo helps draft a message for the man to carry into the castle courtyard to be delivered. You instruct him to do it with tact and leave out the gruesome details of the King’s fall. While you are sure word of mouth from the soldiers will soon spread, you are smart enough to know it cannot be part of the official statement. You will not take any negative blame for ruining Seojoon’s already bleak reputation. He will do that all on his own, even as a dead man.
You gather staff quickly afterward, the sleeping castle slowly waking when solemn church bells start sounding, slow and deliberate. Drapes around the castle are quickly replaced with black ones by maids and runners. Your own clothes, heavy black velvet, signal your mourning. Only you and Eunhee know that there is no real grief in your heart. But you are not as foolish as your late husband. You will not put on a disrespectful display as he did when his father passed. You are cleverer than that. You know how to play the role.
Thankfully, heavy black clothes means it is easier to hide your growing belly. Eunhee is particularly happy about this, as it makes her job infinitely easier. You forewent corsets a while ago, unable to bear them on your body any longer, and this new attire works in your favor.
Court is solemn, but brimmed with a feeling of distilled panic. Noblemen, all elders that were unable to fight in the war, as well as the many, many women, have one question in their mind only, you know this. The royal bloodline has perished. The Crown will fall, and there is no one left to bear it. You long to shout at the top of your lungs that the royal bloodline might not have ended after all, but you have no proof. You have nothing but the Queen Mother’s flimsy, cryptic jab. She refused to give you anything more. As you watch the unrest around you, the anxiety within the Church, you know what you must do.
You need confirmation.
You find the Queen Mother in her chambers that very night, not even a full day after hearing of your husband’s demise.
Her handmaids are shocked that you are here at this hour, with no prior notice and no request for an audience. But in every sense, you rank higher than your mother in law, so they cannot stop you even if they try. You find the woman in a cushioned, rocking chair in front of her fireplace, with a cup of tea that smells suspicious enough for you to conclude that it has alcohol inside.
“Queen Mother,” you greet. “I come with a request.”
She looks at you carefully, and for a long time. She does not offer for you to sit, but you take it regardless, seating yourself on the sofa to her left. You glance at the handmaids and dismiss them, telling them to wait outside with Eunhee. The woman continues to stare at you, her teaspoon swirling slowly in her cup, clinking when it hits the walls of it. It is the only sound in the room.
“You said I would bear an heir for this throne.” You cut straight to the point. “‘In any case’, you said. I need to know what you meant by that.”
She does not seem remotely surprised at your sharp tone, your lack of formality or manners. It’s almost like she expects it, like she would be more taken aback if you presented as meek and hesitant.
“So my ladies-in-waiting are right.” She hums. The teaspoon is still moving. Tight, tiny circles. “You are with child.”
You shrug. “They have no proof.”
She watches you again, and you can see her eyes shoot down to your stomach. Heavy drapings hide your figure. You know she is fishing for scraps. Scraps you will not give. You know better than that by now.
“His mother was my husband’s mistress.” She sniffles, eyes finally leaving yours and focusing on the fire dancing along the wall. You stiffen as she begins her story. “Young thing, she was. Dark hair. My husband liked that type.”
You try not to make a face at the implication.
“She found out about her child mere months after I found out about Seojoon.” The woman continues. Shockingly, you sense no grief in her voice. In the last year, it is true that she has made her disdain for her son clear, but you never expected her to be apathetic to the fact of his death. She was absent from Court too, but you are aware she is more of a recluse now.
“I would have sooner sliced a limb off than watched her birth my husband a child.” The Queen Mother’s tone hardens with indignation. “An illegitimate one at that, and so soon after Seojoon’s birth. So I gave her a choice. She leaves the castle, and I would guarantee a comfortable living for her for the rest of her measly life.”
You swallow tightly.
“But then came the news that she bore a son.” Your mother in law almost spits, her face twisting in a nasty expression. “And my husband wanted them brought back. Of course, I would never let that happen. So I compromised, because I have done that my whole life. He would be raised inside the castle, as a mere soldier, and he would serve the Crown, his true purpose. No one would take the glory, or the Throne, from my flesh and blood. I wouldn’t let him.”
“But he became a Knight.” You interject. “He gained power beyond just a soldier. You let that happen?”
She sets her cup down, not having taken a single sip.
“You think I had any say?” She whispers. You realise this is the first time you have ever heard her sound so frail, so resigned. The face, wrinkled with age, looks sadder and sadder the more you watch it. “There is only so far a woman’s power goes, even the one who bore an Heir. Especially if her own husband treats her like a fly he must swat away.”
You don’t say anything. You stare into the fire just as she does, watching the flames rise and fall, squirming and dancing over the wood. It crackles occasionally, volatile, alive. You sit for a long time. Your mother in law does not ask you to leave. You cannot remember the last time you spent more than a few minutes in her company, especially not alone.
“Tomorrow,” you finally break the silence, “you will attend Court. You will speak to the Church officials, especially the archbishop, and you will let them know that the royal bloodline still lives.”
The Queen Mother’s eyes flicker. She opens her mouth, but you don’t let her speak.
“You say you had no power.” You continue. “And you were right. For a long time, you didn’t. But tomorrow, you can decide the fate of this Crown, and of this entire nation. There is no other evidence. Your word, in a situation like this, in a Court where everyone is desperate for leadership, holds more power than even the law.”
As you stand, the Queen Mother does not move a single muscle.
“You can do with this power what you will. But I would hope that for once in your life, you will make the correct decision.”
You leave her by the fireplace, her tea cup still full on the table next to her, still smelling strongly, but unconsumed.
……………………………….
It takes a long time for the dust to settle, but some still lingers in the air, like a permanent companion to the oxygen needed by Seungcheol’s lungs. He breathes it in with every inhale. A week ago, when the dust rose for the first time with their attack, it stung his throat when he sucked it in. But now, he thinks his body has grown accustomed to the gritty feeling of it.
Along with the dust, something else hangs in the air. Something tense and tight, like anticipation tinged with dread. The metallic smell of blood was heavy for days, but it is slowly fading. The muscles of every soldier in the field are just as tense as this feeling that lingers between them. Seungcheol knows everyone is on edge. But for once, he has no intention of calming them down. They do not need calm right now, they need to remain alert.
He tells Jeonghan as much, and his friend just sighs tiredly. He does not disagree, because he knows letting their guard down would mean weakness. Their enemies are camped a mere few kilometers away from them, settled there after the bloodshed they caused and after Seungcheol painstakingly secured their camps again. Seungcheol can see them over the horizon. Which means they can see him and his men. Another battle is imminent, and they need to hold out for as long as they can. Mingyu is still a few days out. They cannot afford more casualties.
Everyone is still reeling.
Seungcheol walks the line, watches his men scamper around the perimeter they have secured. His right side twinges with every step he takes, pain shooting up his torso. He ignores it, eyes trained carefully on every weapon, every position. The first shift of the night is ready to guard. He talks to a few of his lieutenants, ensures the guard change six hours later will be as smooth as possible.
“Everything is planned out, Commander.” One of them reassures him. “Please rest.”
But Seungcheol cannot rest, even if he tries. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours since the attack. The rest of the time he spends leaning over the map laid on the table in his tent, trying over and over again to spot any gap in his defenses he can correct.
There is none, Jeonghan says, but he can never be too careful.
When the pain of walking becomes too much, Seungcheol knows he must lie down. He does not want his men to see him flinch, and so he bids them luck for the upcoming night. He doesn’t exhale until he has pushed into his encampment. Only then, does he let the shaky breath rattle through his chest, face crumpling.
“Should I call the medic?” Jeonghan voices from where he is lying on his blanket. Seungcheol shakes his head, loosening the metal plates over his waist.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.”
He just huffs and stumbles to his own sleeping bag. He doesn’t flop down on it, lowering himself carefully. The armor digs painfully into his skin. He doesn’t dare take it off. He can hear Jeonghan huff and shift, puttering out of the tent. He has no energy to protest. He just closes his eyes.
For the first time in many months of war, Seungcheol feels like his morale is not where it should be.
As much as he despised his late King and how dispensable that man was for this war, he knows what a monarch means in times like this. The King was less of a man and more of a symbol. His demise has done irreparable damage to the spirits of his troops. He knows what they are all thinking; what are we fighting for? Who are we laying our lives down for?
Some part of Seungcheol hopes that this doubt will be eased slightly when Mingyu arrives. While not their king, Mingyu is still of royal blood, and a good leader. The soldiers recognise him as someone to follow, and that might boost them a little. They need that desperately, because right now, there is nothing but fear and uncertainty. As it goes, Seungcheol knows he is the only reason any of them have not surrendered right now. They respect him too much.
Jeonghan returns with the medic in tow, a tall, battle hardened man who goes by the name of Seokmin. Unfortunately, Seungcheol has become intimately familiar with him, since his wound is one of the worse ones between the survivors.
“Hurts again?” Seokmin gives him a soft smile. Seungcheol only nods. His entire side is throbbing, and he can’t speak because he fears his voice will break.
“Let’s take a look.”
Jeonghan helps Seokmin take the plates of his armor off and lift his shirt. Despite his stature, Seokmin has soft hands, those of a medic, and he is careful as he peels away the bandage holding steadfastly to the long, slashing wound on Seungcheol’s side. Seungcheol tries to breathe deep as the air stings it. Seokmin’s face is blank, but Jeonghan’s grimace gives everything away.
“It’s not healing properly.” He mumbles.
Jeonghan scoffs. “Of course it’s not. He doesn’t tend to it at all. Doesn’t clean it. Doesn’t get it regularly bandaged.”
“We can’t waste resources.” Seungcheol mumbles, but there is no fight in his voice. He feels something wet hit the wound. Seokmin starts tidying the area.
“You’re not a martyr.” Jeonghan snaps. “You’re the only thing keeping these men standing.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth and doesn’t reply. The only sound in the tent is Seokmin working on his wound, and Jeonghan’s occasional huffs of frustration. Seungcheol cannot remember the last time his friend was so on edge. Jeonghan has always been level headed and calm, one step ahead of everyone around him. War can change even the most reliable of people.
Seungcheol is adamant he will not change. He promised you he would come back. He will be damned if he returns to you a different man.
When Seokmin leaves, Jeonghan extinguishes the lantern in their room. Seungcheol stares straight up, unseeing in the pitch darkness. The moon is high in the sky above, so a very dim light illuminates them both. Jeonghan has his back to him, but Seungcheol can tell his breaths are uneven. He isn’t asleep yet.
On sleepless nights like these, Seungcheol often wonders about you. He knows the news of the King’s demise has reached the castle by now. In fact, the messenger he sent might be on his way back with a response soon, a plan of action. He wonders what your reaction was, how you dealt with the news. He knows you enough to know that emotionally, it means nearly nothing to you, but the political implications of it must be intense. There is no ruling King right now. The Crown is in danger. What must you be doing? How must you be handling it? Desperately, he wishes he could split himself into two so he could be there with you, to help ease your burden. His only solace is that Wonwoo is there. A trusted friend, a great ally, and someone who holds you in high regard. He knows Wonwoo can help you deal with it, he’s whip-smart, and Seungcheol picked him as your steward for a reason.
He just hopes it’s not too much for you.
Seungcheol’s predictions for Wonwoo are accurate, as back in the castle, the Lord runs possibilities in his head like they are calculations. An algorithm in his mind, eyes unfocused, sitting before you rock still as he thinks. His first fully formed notion is that he is grateful that you told him this before it was announced to the Courts. The revelation of another possible heir is not something to be taken lightly. While the King having illegitimate children is not surprising, considering how many mistresses he had, said child being a well decorated Knight could cause great disruption among the castle clergy. So Wonwoo prefers being prepared.
His second thought is; things are about to become very unstable. He voices as much to you, watching as you sigh deeply and close your eyes for a brief second, like you are accepting his warning.
“I assume it will be.” You reply. “This is shocking information.”
Eunhee is serving tea, and Wonwoo gratefully accepts the cup. The warm liquid wets his parched throat, and he didn’t even realise he was so thirsty.
“I want to know possibilities.” You continue. “When the Queen Mother announces this to the Courts, I’m assuming there will be questions.”
Wonwoo nods, contemplating. “Her word is very heavy evidence. However, I fear we might need more.”
Something clinks loudly, and both your faces turn to where Eunhee is carefully placing a cup on the table beside your armchair. She clears her throat, and Wonwoo notices how tense she is. When she looks up, her eyes meet his directly. Immediately, something in Wonwoo’s mind scratches at him.
“What is it?” He addresses her.
You look confused, eyes flitting between your steward and your handmaid. Eunhee hesitates. Wonwoo watches closely as her hand reaches into her belt, tugging something out. A piece of folded paper, yellow and worn, wilting at the edges, held closed by a wax seal.
“This was given to me by Chief Councillor Yoon before he left for the battlefield.” Eunhee’s voice is uncertain, like she doesn’t know if she is doing the right thing. “He instructed me to reveal it only in the circumstances of Sir Choi’s death but…”
“Eunhee.” You sound shocked, looking at the woman with wide eyes. Eunhee bows deeply, leaning heavily on her knees.
“I’m deeply apologetic, Your Majesty.” She sounds sincere. “I gave him my word.”
You huff and nod, though you still look slightly miffed. You take the letter carefully from Eunhee’s hands and undo the seal. The paper crinkles as it opens.
Wonwoo watches patiently as you read over it, eyebrows furrowing initially before your face smooths with shock. Curiosity gnaws at him, but he holds his tongue. Finally, when you are done, you look up at him with a fire in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while. He blinks when you hold the letter out to him. He watches a small smile slowly stretch over your face.
“This is all we will need, Wonwoo.” Your voice is reinvigorated. “This is it.”
Wonwoo is quick to read the contents, the neat scrawl of the woman’s handwriting, the full story behind Sir Choi’s conception, and the agreement to bring him back to the castle when he is a young boy to train him as a royal guard. Something in Wonwoo’s veins lights up. He lets out a long sigh he didn’t even know he was holding, and nods approvingly.
“You are correct, Your Majesty.” He smiles. “This is it.”
He watches you exchange a giddy smile with Eunhee. Wonwoo straightens and clears his throat to get your attention again.
“While the Queen Mother’s word and this letter are certainly convincing,” he states, “your own standing is vital.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Wonwoo sighs. “As flimsy as it may be, yours is the only authority in this castle right now. Sir Choi’s ascension to the Throne depends on every action you take in his absence.”
You nod resolutely. “Tell me what to do and I will do it.”
Wonwoo watches you closely, the determination in your face. He takes a deep breath, a thought forming in his head.
“Your Majesty,” he says delicately, “it is important that you know what Sir Choi receiving the Crown will mean for you.”
Wonwoo straightens and leans closer. “I know you two have a good rapport between you, but my job is to prepare you for everything, so I am telling you this. I am certain he will ensure your comfort as Queen Dowager under his reign. Likely he will have you settled in a castle off grounds, but with your own staff. You can live there with much ease…”
Wonwoo trails off as he watches a smile slowly spreading on your face, confused at your reaction. You reach forward, and he stiffens in shock when you pat his arm, as if reassuring him.
“Do not worry about that, Wonwoo.” You state. There is a little twinkle in your eye, and for the first time, Wonwoo isn’t sure he can guess what you are thinking.
…………………………………
The next few days are a critical whirlwind.
Wonwoo’s instructions are clear, and you trust his advice completely. Immediately after dawn, you are already dressed in dark colors of mourning, the appropriate attire for a widow, and on your way to the Church, requesting audience with the archbishop. That is the first step, according to your steward.
If there is any hope of legitimising Sir Choi, we need the backing of the Church.
After hearing your story and showing him the letter, with reassurances of the Queen Mother’s word in today’s upcoming Court, you get the archbishop’s promise of support. You know there are supporting factors on why he agreed. You are popular in the Church because of your respect for them, and you also know Seojoon metaphorically spat on their faces with the mistresses he flaunted so much. Seungcheol is not only a well respected Knight, but already a war hero. That, and the Church’s insistence on maintaining the Crown means that the archbishop is quick to persuade. Wonwoo’s spirits are high as you leave, just as the sun is rising above the castle walls.
“Now we have witness testimony, a written record, and backing from the Church.” He gives you a smile, his eyes shining behind his spectacles. “The Crown will absolutely be preserved. I cannot imagine any nobles or lords staging a coup after we have moved so quickly.”
You nod, feeling your chest tighten with excitement. You think of Seungcheol, about him finding out, and the thought immediately makes you gasp, tapping Wonwoo’s arm.
“The messenger has not left, has he?” You ask. Wonwoo frowns.
“Not yet, Your Majesty. He just got here two nights ago.”
You nod resolutely. “Draft a message for him, Wonwoo. A sealed envelope meant for Seungcheol’s hand only. And one for Jeonghan. The troops must know who their new King is.”
Wonwoo laughs, and you realise this is the first time you’ve heard that sound from him. He reflects how happy you feel on the inside. “Right away, my lady. As soon as the council recognises Sir Choi as Heir Presumptive, I will ensure that noble testimony is written and recorded. The messenger will set out immediately, as well as a few more on alternate routes. The word must get to him fast.”
You cannot tamp down your smile. It takes every bit of self control to move through the castle with a somber face.
…………………………………..
It is early dawn when the sound of restless murmurs rouses Seungcheol. He blinks a few times, watching a faded light filter through the thick cloth of his tent. He is careful as he sits up, mindful of his wound. Jeonghan is already awake, hair all over the place, watching the tent entrance with swollen eyes and a frown on his face.
“I will go check out what is going on.” He offers, voice still heavy with sleep. Seungcheol nods.
Jeonghan stumbles up to his feet, curses when his ankle gets caught in the blanket and shakes it off. Seungcheol sighs and smooths his hair. Outside, the voices are getting closer. Before he or Jeonghan can react, he hears tapping on the wooden post holding up his tent, a makeshift knock.
“Sir,” Joshua’s voice is tense. “May I enter? It’s urgent.”
Jeonghan gives Seungcheol a look. Seungcheol calls out an affirmative.
Joshua walks in, bowing respectfully. He holds the flap open, and another man pokes his head in. Seungcheol tenses. It’s his herald, the messenger he sent to the castle. The man immediately sinks to his knee, bowing deeply. Seungcheol frowns at the excessive show of respect.
“Messages from the council.” He says, holding up two envelopes. They are waxed shut, the Royal family’s crest embossed on it. Seungcheol holds his hand out, as does Jeonghan.
The wax crackles as Seungcheol breaks it with his dagger, pulling the parchment open. It is an official declaration, stamped ink on top, and very long. He begins reading from the start, and as he goes, slowly, he feels the life drain out of his fingertips.
“Lords above.” He hears Jeonghan whisper. But it is far away, because blood is roaring in Seungcheol’s ears. His eyes move frantically, passing over names, declarations, testimonies, he freezes as your own signature, your own declaration, among the many nobles, the clergy, the archbishop. There’s shuffling at his side.
“Joshua.” Jeonghan’s voice is hard. “Wait outside. Both of you.”
The men shuffle out. Immediately, Jeonghan kneels by Seungcheol’s side, a heavy hand on his shoulder. Finally, Seungcheol looks up.
Jeonghan looks as winded as he feels, and one look at his friend makes the raven-haired man let out an incredulous laugh.
“Her Majesty is really something, isn’t she?” He mumbles. “I cannot even begin to imagine how she managed this.”
Seungcheol lets out a long breath, shaking his head. It’s more of a stiff jerk than anything else. He cannot believe it, mind still reeling. He hasn’t even processed Jeonghan’s revelation yet, the fact that he is of royal blood, and now he hears from the Royal Council that he has been declared the successor to the Throne, the Heir Presumptive.
“Okay.” He looks up at Jeonghan’s voice, watching his friend’s face harden, determined. He can see the cogs in Jeonghan’s brain already turning.
“First of all, we need information.” He begins, seating himself crosslegged in front of Seungcheol. “We need to know how many nobles have sworn loyalty to you, whether the capital is secure, and if any rival emergents are laying claim on the Throne instead-”
Seungcheol holds his own letter out, much heftier than Jeonghan’s. He takes it and reads it over. Seungcheol stares into space.
A King. A King. His head rings with the title.
“Okay, this is good.” Jeonghan nods, more to himself than Seungcheol. This is him in his element, assessing situations, politics, royal standings. Seungcheol feels like he’s drowning, but he knows Jeonghan won’t let him suffocate.
“They want me to return immediately for the coronation.” He states, voice hollow.
Jeonghan nods. “That is standard. You need to secure authority and prevent the Crown from being usurped.”
Seungcheol huffs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to feel, but one thing is for certain in his head.
“I cannot leave.” He states. “Not like this. If I ride now, I abandon the troops. And if the troops fall, there will be no kingdom left to rule.”
Jeonghan watches him quietly, contemplating. “You’re right. If you leave now, the soldiers will see it as abandonment.”
Silence stretches between the two men. Seungcheol watches the frown in between Jeonghan’s eyebrows, thinking. Finally, the man nods to himself.
“Okay,” he begins. “First, you need to write a reply to the council acknowledging the claim. Promise to them that you will return after securing the battlefield with the key victory. Mingyu will be here in a few days, and we can make our move. So likely, it won’t be delayed for too long.”
Seungcheol nods, feeling better as Jeonghan slowly solidifies a plan. His friend keeps talking.
“I will write back as well, asking the council to make declarations to the people.” He mumbles. “Of course, you not returning immediately comes with risks. Council can grow anxious. Some may even question your judgement. But that’s what your lovely lady is for.”
Jeonghan smiles as he says it, the first proper smile Seungcheol has seen from him in weeks. He can’t help it, he lets out a small laugh.
“How did she do it?” He muses out loud. Jeonghan shrugs.
“She’s smarter than any of us give her credit for, I suppose.”
That makes Seungcheol shake his head, feeling that familiar smile that the thought of you brings to his face.
“Never. I’ve always known she was clever.”
“Right.” Jeonghan nods. “I will never question her again. Or you.”
Seungcheol punches at his chest. Jeonghan laughs and slowly stands up.
“Alright then,” he brushes off his pants. “Ready to address your troops, Your Majesty?”
If Jeonghan didn’t immediately step away, Seungcheol would’ve punched him again. Instead, he just laughs, shaking his head.
“Remember, straight face.” Jeonghan warns. “You can’t celebrate this publicly.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
…………………………..
Mingyu looks worn in a way Seungcheol has never seen him before, but his smile is wide. He embraces Seungcheol before Seungcheol can bow to him, a gesture he doesn’t expect, but it is over before he can react. He realises that of course, he now holds the same status as Mingyu, so there is no need for him to bow. Mingyu’s hand is heavy on Seungcheol’s shoulder, and his grin doesn’t fade for a single second.
“When I got my sister’s letter, I was over the moon.” The King says in lieu of greeting. “I hope my words mean something to you when I say, this is the best thing that has happened for your country in many, many years.”
Seungcheol feels his chest swell. For days, he has lived in uncertainty with the newfound information he received. While Jeonghan moved with confidence, like he has prepared for this his whole life, Seungcheol felt like a fish out of water. Mingyu’s words, the validation from a monarch, invigorates him in a way he never expected.
The troops merge, strategies set in place by Seungcheol and Jeonghan over the last few weeks finally taking shape. Mingyu is resolute and confident, and Seungcheol feels much more in his element as he explains the plan of attack he came up with to secure the key victory. Outside his encampment, he can hear commotion as everyone rallies one last time. He knows this is it, the final stand. What happens today will determine if both their nations will stand or if they will fall.
At dawn, everyone stands at attention, weapons held tightly to their sides, armor in place, knees steady, heads high. Seungcheol stands before them, toe to toe with Mingyu, Jeonghan two paces behind them. He eyes his second in command, Joshua, standing before the troops and facing Seungcheol and Mingyu. The Kings. It’s still difficult to digest.
When Joshua shifts, Seungcheol’s eyes find him immediately. Briefly, their stares meet. He watches as Joshua reaches up and pulls off his helmet. Slowly, he lowers himself to one knee, placing his helmet before him, lowered to the ground.
Seungcheol watches, shocked. Beside him, Mingyu does not move. There is more shifting among the formations, helmets pulled off, knees meeting the dirt, helmets placed before them. Seungcheol feels his heart pound as they all kneel. The feeling of numbness in his limbs, something that has persisted for days, finally starts ebbing away. He hears Mingyu hum.
“Field recognition.” He murmurs. “I’m impressed.”
Seungcheol knows, immediately, that this is their oath. They are swearing fealty to him in this battle, acknowledging him as their king. In every sense of the word, this is a makeshift coronation.
For the first time since he was a child, Seungcheol feels like he might shed tears.
A fire lights in his chest, invigorating and all encompassing. He knows what he must do. In this moment, his purpose is clear. He feels the support of hundreds, thousands, like living beings inside him, holding him up, egging him on. Your signature on the parchment of his declaration is seared into his brain. He will win this fight, for his men, and for you, because no one has believed in him the way you have.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.5k
warnings (for this chapter): some fluff, angst, mentions of political talks, alliances, mentions of war the the battleground, some suggestive content but not very explicit, mentions of childbearing, death, bloodshed and injuries.
series masterlist
It is when winter starts bleeding into spring that things take a turn for the worst. Both within the castle walls and outside.
It is very easy to keep up appearances. Ever since the demise of the late King, and the subsequent takeover from your husband, everything became about optics very quickly. The reason for this shift was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes. War loomed near, and the new King’s behavior indicated much more nefarious reasons for the death of an old, beloved monarch. But no one dared question, no one dared protest. Because he is the sole heir, the only one of his bloodline left, and until you are to bear a child for this family, none can question his authority unless they want the Crown to fall.
And so his behavior is excused. Jeonghan, the Court’s Chief Councillor, struggles day in and day out to keep up appearances, both inside and outside the castle. In your opinion, there is no managing the unmanageable, but you must laud Jeonghan for his tireless efforts to do so. You know that your husband is a disdainful, disgusting man, with a brain still devoid of maturity and diplomatic manners. No one holds more contempt for him than yourself, but at the end of the day, you are his wife, the Queen Consort, and you must do what you can to compensate for his incompetence.
Your step-up, born mostly from necessity, ends up going very largely in your favor.
When you hold Court, it is in high spirits and with enthusiastic participation, despite the dread and gloom that comes with the threat of war. Something about your blood relation to His Majesty Kim Mingyu seems to solidify everyone’s allyship to his Kingdom, which you know your brother is endlessly thankful for, if his letters are anything to go by. Public opinion and support is crucial in times like this, and your presence, once an afterthought and a dismissed annoyance, now inspires. Church clergy love you for your respect of their authority, castle staff reveres you except the few who serve the King as his mistresses, and Noblewomen who once sneered at you for not bearing a child now seem a bit more warm to you. They still want an heir, since that is considered your primary duty, but in conditions where everything else seems bleak, you know everyone finds your strong command on your Court refreshing.
Lord Jeon is positively aglow by your favorable reputation.
“I have known of you long, Your Majesty.” He muses. “But never was I made aware of your intellectual prowess. Was Her Majesty trained in the arts of the Courts as a child?”
You giggle and shake your head. “Not formally. But my brother made sure I learned.”
This explanation worked two fold. Direct tutelage under a reigning King helped solidify your authority, and it also established Mingyu’s credibility among your subjects.
Another reason people are warming up to you now is the glaring absence of your mother in law’s constant barrage of veiled insults towards you. The Queen Dowager, your mother in law, has her own staff, of course, but she keeps herself far removed from castle happenings these days. Ever since the late King’s death, she has become somewhat of a recluse, a surprising change that you didn’t expect from a woman who famously cared only of her relationship with her husband enough to bear him a child, and no more. You are endlessly puzzled by her withdrawal, staying exclusively with her ladies-in-waiting and entertaining no other audience, not even her Court. Well beloved among the castle staff, this has caused a great rift between the ruling King and the previous Crown. It agitates your husband that his own mother is unsupportive of his authority, which pleases you to no end, but you know it also weighs like a heavy burden on Jeonghan.
“I know it will be difficult, but I come to you with this request.” He says to you one night when Seungcheol brings him to your chambers. You are shocked to see him there, but you know it must be important if he is breaking formality like this. “Please ask the Queen Mother to attend the King’s Court. Only the King’s Court, and no other obligation. Despite your strongest efforts, Your Majesty, approval among noblemen for the new King is not faring well.”
You huff and nod from where you sit in your armchair, even if you deeply resent the idea of asking anything of that woman. You will do it for Jeonghan, because he has always been nothing but kind to you, and you will do it because Seungcheol himself brought the man to your door. Your honor refuses to turn down his request.
When Jeonghan leaves, Seungcheol remains, as he always does these nights. You smile and place your tea cup down, eyes fluttering when he places his lips on the crown of your head from behind you where you sit, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Incredible of Jeonghan to come and see me with this request.” You muse, watching the fireplace. Your Knight hums, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, kneading them softly. You sigh and relax.
“You are popular these days, my love.”
You smile, letting him work on the knots in your shoulder. Then, he says words you have come to despise.
“I must leave early today.”
You look up, watching his face upside down where he stands behind your chair. “Why so?”
“Meetings.” He looks apologetic. “Intelligence tells us that troops will be moving when the winter snow melts soon. We have to be prepared.”
You huff, rolling your eyes. Seungcheol’s workload has exponentially increased ever since war has become a real concern. Some nights, he stays for hours, some, not long at all.
“How long before they expect you?” You ask.
Seungcheol ponders. “Fifteen minutes?”
You turn in your chair, disengaging with his hands to look up at him with a half lidded gaze.
“Make the most of them then, Sir Choi.”
And he does, disrobing you in record time, pressing your front into the sheets of your bed and pushing into you from behind with just his slacks tugged down enough to set himself free. It is quick, messy and sizzling hot, his fingers tangled in your hair, your sounds muffled in the cloth you are lying on as he pounds you just the way he has learned you like the most, the pace that carries you to your end the fastest. He fills you up with his seed, warmth bathing your insides, and his lips feverishly running over your neck as he groans and curses, whispering into your ear how much he loves you. He doesn’t pull out until he’s sure your body is melting into the mattress, leaving you pliant and buzzing comfortably. He never compromises in cleaning you up afterwards and making sure you are cozy. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he leaves, your nude body tucked into bed, lips tingling from the force of his kisses, and his own jacket not even an inch out of place, but the taste of your still lingering in his mouth.
You’ve both become good at enjoying your rendezvous to the fullest.
When your steward comes to you the next morning to go over your agenda for the day, you interrupt him before he can begin and tell him about Jeonghan’s unexpected visit.
Wonwoo ponders and nods, scribbling something on the parchment.
“I will arrange for a meeting. Maybe over tea. I will let you know when I have something, Your Majesty.”
One thing about Wonwoo is that he is efficient, because that very evening, you are approved for an audience with the Queen Dowager and seated in her parlor while her handmaids serve you tea and cakes. Once your plate is made, and so is hers, she dismisses the handmaids, and they quietly scuttle out of the room.
“Why have you come?” She asks, twisting her wrist to swirl the tea in her cup. She stares intently at it instead of you. Her voice is muted, unlike the booming timbre she has always had in the many years she has ruled this castle. You hesitate and take a deep breath.
“I’ve come with a humble request, Queen Mother.” You begin.
“Oh?” She still does not look at you. “And what is it?”
Again, you pause. You don’t know how to phrase it without offending her sensibilities.
“Things have been much different since His Majesty’s most tragic passing.” You say. “Your Majesty has not graced us with her presence as often as we would have liked.”
To your shock, she laughs. A single, sharp sound that hits your ear more like a scoff than actual humor.
“You would not like it, I’m sure.”
You shake your head. “I certainly would.”
“Do not lie to me, girl.”
Girl. You grit your teeth. You do not like this form of dismissive address.
“Your son, then.” You concede. “His Majesty would like your presence to be more apparent.”
You watch her lips curl, an ugly sneer overtaking them. She swirls the cup quicker, the liquid dangerously close to the lip, almost spilling. Her eyes are still on it, but far away. She seems to pay no attention to what she is doing.
“My son.” She murmurs. “My son. He cares naught for my presence. My son. His father’s murderer.”
You gasp, shocked. “Your Majesty-”
“I have been a fool for many years.” She keeps going, stare distant. It is almost as if she doesn’t even care that you are there. “Dismissed and discarded because I hold no value. Overshadowed by harlots and concubines, unending women who did for my husband only that which I was supposed to.”
Your throat tightens. You watch, frozen still, as she spills feelings you have held in the deepest chambers of your heart your entire married life.
“Until Seojoon. Until his birth, I was nothing. After his birth, I was…..” Her hand pauses. The tea in her cup goes stationary. “I was mother to the Heir Apparent. I bore a son for the Crown, and so I had value. Endless value that none of his other women had. One of them bore him a daughter. Another one bore him a son. But I had a son first. And mine was legitimate. Unlike those second-hand scum.”
“Seojoon was perfect in my eyes, because he was mine. He came from me, from my blood and my womb, and not from the despicable four walls that I lived in. He was without fault. Pure. He could do no wrong because I bore him. The Heir to the Throne. His only legitimate child. The future of our Kingdom. A ruler. Smart. Handsome.”
Her face twists again. Hardens. “A conspirator. Liar. Killer.”
Her voice shakes. You don’t dare move an inch. Silence descends on you both, heavy and potent. You watch her closely as she takes in a shaky breath, her chest rising with it. Her skin is deeply wrinkled, and she looks like she has aged years in the span of mere months.
“Will you do the same thing?” She says, quieter this time. “Bear his child and believe it to be pure until the day he proves otherwise?”
Your teeth grit. “I will never bear his child.”
Her eyes finally turn to you, focusing for the first time since your arrival. She looks at you directly, something she has never done for such a long stretch of time. You do everything in your power to not flinch, to not blink.
“Right.” She whispers. “You will bear that Knight’s instead.”
Your blood runs cold. You stare, unmoving, at the woman as she finally sips her tea. She swallows and then sighs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
“No matter. It will be an heir, in any case.”
Your lips part, caught between shock and confusion, your hands balled into fists. You struggle to string words together, to say something, anything, to question what she has just stated. But before you can, she reaches for the tiny bell on her table, shaking it. Thin, trilling sound fills the space, and seconds later, her handmaids step in.
“I’ve heard your request.” She says, finally. “You may leave.”
You don’t protest.
The walk back to your chambers is numb. You can barely remember the journey, nor do you pay much heed to Wonwoo as he rattles on about what you must do next. When you reach your door, Soonyoung pulls it open, and you raise a hand up to make your steward stop talking.
“I feel unwell.” You mumble. “I will be retiring for the day.”
He blinks, concern flitting over his features. “Shall I summon a doctor, Your Majesty?”
You shake your head. “I just wish to lay down. You’re dismissed, Wonwoo.”
He bows, nodding. He looks unconvinced, but takes you for your word. As he turns to leave, Soonyoung looks carefully at you.
“Shall I send for Sir Choi?” He asked in a low voice. You give him a grateful smile and shake your head again.
“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Thank you.” Your voice sounds hollow. You say nothing more, closing the door behind you after entering your room.
The silence is suffocating, but it is your only friend right now. In the quiet air, you recall the interaction that left you this way.
She knew.
You don’t know if, in hindsight, it was naïveté that convinced you of your secret being safe. Soonyoung and Eunhee know, but Seungcheol swore up and down Soonyoung would never tell, and you know for certain Eunhee is trustworthy. The circle of the knowing is iron clad. The Queen Mother finding out feels near impossible, yet she did.
Then again, there are the rumors. Everyone in the castle is famously aware of your disdain for your husband. You make no secret of it. The Queen Mother knows you will never lie with him, and if she knows, her ladies know, which means everyone knows. Loose-lipped, all of them. They do not care for keeping secrets. Rumors of you and Seungcheol have existed since the day he was declared your Champion. It just so happens that now, those rumors are true. That being said, the Queen Mother could just be operating on those old rumors. She has no proof that they are not rumors anymore.
You sit shakily on your armchair, trying to relax into it like you always do, but failing. Your corset digs painfully into your back, and this time, you feel it acutely. Her voice rings in your ear, and the second, more dreadful part of her address floats through your short term memory.
It will be an heir, in any case.
Your heartbeat speeds up, mind reeling with implications. She could not have meant what you thought she did. What did she mean by ‘in any case’? No child born of Seungcheol can be an heir. It can’t….
You stare into the fire, the flames that dance back and forth, and you remember a time far back when your Knight kneeled by your legs as you stared into the same fireplace, when your own heart was breaking at the seams because of the Queen Mother’s words. He told you then, of his own mother, a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, and how so many in the circle were the King’s mistresses. Could it be that Seungcheol’s own mother….?
No.
You do not dare entertain that idea. You do not dare. Because that would mean Seungcheol is-
Bile rises to your throat at an alarming speed. You barely make it to your basin before you heave, brown liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the ceramic. Your mind spins. You heave again, guts twisting. Tears fill your eyes.
Seungcheol could be your husband’s half brother.
You grip the edge of the basin tight and sink down, curling on yourself against the stone floor to take deep breaths. You can’t think like this. You can’t. This is a wild assumption. Shame fills your head at the very thought, but that look on your mother in law’s face haunts you, blank but sharp, like she knows something you don’t. Something sick curls in your chest again, and you fight to swallow it down.
You jump when hands meet your arms, head jerking up. You blink sharply, the world coming into focus again, sounds clearing.
“Your Majesty?”
Slanted, wide eyes meet yours, alarmed and hesitant. You sway a little as you stand, but Soonyoung’s hold on you is strong, and he keeps you in place.
“Are you okay?”
You are not, very clearly, but his question makes your face crumple. Thick tears spill down your cheeks. You sniffle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Soonyoung. I don’t know why my life is like this.”
Soonyoung looks almost scared, like a fish out of water as he tries to think of what to say. You pay him no heed, your head still spinning and the sickness in your chest so acute that you want to vomit again. You cough and sway, unsteady where you lean against the basin again. Soonyoung’s grip on your arms tightens.
“Let’s start simple then, okay? Let’s go lie down first.”
You only nod blankly, letting the guard slowly guide you out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You lie down, despite the difficulty your attire gives you, and stare blankly at the far wall.
“I will send for a doctor, Your Majesty.” Soonyoung says. You immediately shake your head.
“No doctor. Only Eunhee.”
He hesitates. “You are terribly ill. Please allow me to call a healer.”
You refuse again. “I just need some strong tea. I’m just….. overwhelmed.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue anymore. He leaves the room, and you don’t move for fear of hurling again. You close your burning eyes, trying to undo some of the notions you have created in your head. You cannot think like this, because they are all baseless. You have no proof. One sentence out of the Queen Mother’s mouth is not confirmation. You are building immense assumptions and they are leaving you half mad.
Eunhee’s hands are cool on your skin, and it makes your eyes pop open when you feel them on your forehead. Her face is scrunched in concern as she looks you over. Behind her, Soonyoung stands a few paces away, wringing his hands nervously.
“Should I call a doctor?” He asks his wife. You make a face.
“I told you, Soonyoung. No doctor.”
He stiffens and bows his head in apology. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
Eunhee looks hesitant. She kneels by your bedside, her head level with you. “Should we send for Sir Choi?”
You ponder, going over your current mental state, and you realise you cannot face Seungcheol like this. He will want to know what caused it, what was said to you, and he is stubborn enough to pursue it until he can find out the exact reason, with the intention of eliminating anything that caused you distress. You can’t tell him this. Not yet, at least. So you shake your head, something that surprises both Eunhee and Soonyoung, but they accept your decision.
The rest of the night is subdued. Eunhee brews a calming cup of tea and squeezes a lemon into it. It settles the queasiness in your stomach, and she quickly helps you change into more comfortable clothes. You don’t speak much, lost in your head instead. When the embers in the fireplace finally start dying down, in the dead of the night, you conclude that you had certainly overreacted.
It was ludicrous to even insinuate that Seungcheol might be Royal blood. He is a Knight, a very popular one at that. If this was true, someone out there would have definitely said something. And so you vow to yourself to dismiss this idea completely. The coming morning will be fresh and new, and you can put this horrible night behind you.
The next morning comes, but not the way you imagined.
You are woken by Eunhee shaking you urgently. For a split second, you fear you have overslept, which is why your handmaid is waking you. But one look at the window tells you that the sky is still mostly dim, and Eunhee is here way ahead of time. One look at her face has you freezing, pale, near sickly, and overcome with panic.
“What is it?” You ask her, voice still hoarse with sleep as you sit up, trying to clear your heavy eyes. Your brain is barely awake.
“It is beginning.” She says. “Troops are readying themselves. A herald from your brother’s kingdom arrived an hour ago. The Guard is moving out.”
Your veins freeze. Breath traps itself in your throat. You push your sheets off, your bare feet hitting the stone floor. Eunhee looks disheveled, almost. She is panting, and you realise she ran all the way here. You look at your chamber doors. Slightly ajar. There is no movement outside, but you can hear shouts, neighs and hoofbeats through your windows. Sounds of clinking metal and leather boots hitting the ground accompany them. You look at Eunhee again.
“Soonyoung too?” You ask. She nods.
Your heart squeezes for the woman. You cannot imagine what it must be like for her to watch her husband leave for a war from which he may never return. Well, you can, and your intake of breath is sharp.
“Seungcheol?” Your voice trembles.
Eunhee looks pained. “He is about to leave too. He’s in the stables. Their journey will be long, so they must set off immediately.”
Your heart fills with unimaginable dread. You push off the bed, sliding your bare feet into slippers.
“Get my cloak, Eunhee.”
Your handmaid blinks, shocked. “Your Majesty, you cannot-”
“Did you say farewell to Soonyoung?” You ask sharply.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Would you be okay with me not getting that chance?”
Her face slumps, resigned. She does not say more, rushing to your wardrobe and pulling out a heavy, black cloak to cover your barely clad body. She gives you one more look, and quietly, you both slip out from your chambers.
It is barely sunrise, which means no castle staff, noblemen or maids linger. The stone hallways are empty, lit by torches on either side that guide your way. Eunhee seems to know exactly where she is going. She is quick footed and quiet, and you follow her lead. Many descending stairs take you down narrow corridors you have never walked before, and finally, Eunhee stops in front of a large, brown gate. On the other side, you can hear shouting. Through the narrow slits in the wooden slates, you can barely make out movement nearing levels of commotion. Eunhee looks around and paces back, pulling open a smaller door in the wall of the corridor.
“Your Majesty, my apologies, but you will have to wait here while I get to Sir Choi.” She says. “I cannot take you in there with me.”
You understand, nodding and stepping into what appears to be a broom closet. It is small and dusty, and you hike up your cloak slightly to prevent it from dirtying as Eunhee shuts the door behind you. It is pitch black inside, blinking makes no difference, and you muffle a cough as the stale air of the space stings your nose. You wait, your ears on high alert, your heart pounding.
When the large door made of wooden slabs creaks, voices fill the corridor outside. You stare, unwatching. Finally, your door is pulled open slightly. You blink at the onslaught of light. Eunhee’s face comes into focus. She steps aside.
Seungcheol is standing behind her, face pulled taut in alarm. He is clad head to toe in metal plates, encasing every part of his body for protection. His sword hangs by the side of his hip. Even beneath the heavy armor, you can see his posture stiffen when he sees you. You speak before he can.
“I had to see you.” You plead with your eyes, already gathering unshed tears between your lids. “I couldn’t let you leave like this.”
Seungcheol sighs heavily, walking closer to you. “Someone could see.”
You shake your head. “I don’t care.”
His eyes dart over your face, like he’s trying to memorise it. You can’t help but reach up, a shaky hand meeting his cheek. His eyelids flutter under your touch. You don’t heed the fact that Eunhee is standing right there, and so is Soonyoung, a few paces behind you and your Knight.
“Forgive me, my Queen.” Seungcheol whispers. “Leaving you like this might be my biggest sin.”
You shake your head, trying to give him a placating smile. “As long as you come back to me, I will forgive you.”
He takes one more step forward, a tiny shuffle that allows him to bow his head. His hair brushes over your face. Your breath hitches. You close the distance, lips landing on his in a searing kiss. His leather covered hands meet your waist under your heavy cloak, scrunching the material of your thin nightdress between his fingers. His touch feels like fire, and your face crumples so much that you weep into his mouth, breaking the kiss.
“My love…” Seungcheol breathes, his unoccupied hand finding your cheek, wiping the wet tracks. “Please, your tears pain me.”
“Promise me you will come back.” You plead. “You’re all I have.”
Seungcheol’s eyebrows scrunch, his eyes are clouded with sorrow. He kisses your forehead, a harsh press of his lips that feels like he is trying to leave his heart there with you.
“Have I ever broken my oath to you before?” He whispers into your skin. “I have no intentions of starting now.”
You nod. He kisses you again, softer this time. Metal clinks behind him.
“Sir, we must go.” Soonyoung sounds hesitant but urgent.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, looks you over once more. “Take care of yourself. For me.”
You nod, trying your best not to sob. You don’t want to worry him as he leaves. You take a deep breath, your limbs screaming when he pulls away. He quickly pulls up the cloak to cover you again, gives you a final smile. You watch him hungrily, taking him in. The prominent ridge of his thick eyebrows, the sharp slope of his nose, plump and pink lips, the jut of his jaw, perfect and unblemished pale skin. His hair, glorious locks of dark brown flowing past his face. When he turns, you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a single sight of him. The wooden door is pushed open. The two men slip through it, and it shuts heavily behind them.
Your strength breaks.
Eunhee barely has time to grip your shoulders as you slump, pulling the material of the cloak up to your mouth to muffle your sob into it. She pulls your body to hers so she can keep you upright. And she lets you cry. You feel so much in that moment. Grief, dread, confusion, so much pain.
Another feeling, panic, quickly joins all of these when a voice sounds behind you.
“Well, I’m not exactly surprised to find you here.”
You would recognise it anywhere. The sly tilt, soft and slightly jovial. Eunhee gasps and turns, pulling you with her. Jeonghan is standing a few feet behind both of you, weighed down by an open, brown cloak, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Between your sobs, you had not heard him come up so close, which is your fault. He looks almost amused. His eyes flit to Eunhee for a brief second, landing back on you. Your tear stained face, the circles under your eyes. He sighs and gestures before turning around to walk away. When neither of you move to follow, he speaks.
“Come on. Unless you would enjoy being caught.”
Eunhee spurs you forward, and you will your feet to muster up some strength. You shuffle a few paces behind Jeonghan. He is near silent, like a ghost, and even his clothes don’t make any noise as he walks. He leads you both up a rogue flight of stairs. Minutes later, he opens a door to what looks like a sitting room, shelves lining walls, floors draped with cozy rugs and sprawling sofas and armchairs. There is no fireplace, so the room is chilly, but your body is already very heated, so you don’t mind. You settle onto one end of a sofa, leaning against the arm support. Eunhee looks panicked, and Jeonghan seems to notice.
“Will you arrange for some tea, please? Two cups. Strong for Her Majesty.”
Eunhee nods, looking relieved to leave, and she quickly scampers out, leaving you alone with the man.
Jeonghan shrugs off his cloak, leaving him in a simple shirt and slacks. He drapes the cloak over the armchair across from you and settles on it, crossing one leg over the other. Then, he just watches you silently. You shift under his stare, eyeing the rich, maroon carpet.
“You have nothing to say to me, Chief Councillor?” Your voice is hoarse.
Jeonghan hums, tilting his head like he’s contemplating. “Maybe just to warn you that it was extremely reckless to say goodbye like that.”
You sigh. “No one saw us.”
“I did.”
“And will you do anything about it?” Your eyes shift up to meet his. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles.
“I haven’t done anything so far. Why would I start now?”
You lean back on the sofa, closing your eyes. You feel exhausted.
“How long have you known?”
Jeonghan’s foot sways a little, like he’s moving it to a tune in his head. “Long.”
You stare up at the ceiling. “It seems like everybody knows.”
He shrugs. “Suspicions only.”
“The Queen Mother said something about it.”
He waves a hand, as if in dismissal. “She loves gossip.”
“She said something else too.” You eye the man, trying to gauge his reaction. As always, his face is smooth as porcelain. He gives nothing away. “About Seungcheol.”
“Oh?” Jeonghan picks his nails.
“About his parentage.” You tack on.
His eyes flit up again then, and this time, they stay on you. “What are you implying, Your Majesty?”
You shrug. “I imply nothing. I merely ask if you know.”
“What am I supposed to have known?”
You huff, feeling irritation gnaw at you. “Must you always answer my question with a question?”
That makes him laugh, and it breaks the heavy, suffocating air a little. It lessens some of the weight on your chest, and you remember why you enjoy Jeonghan’s company so much.
“I am an advisor, my lady.” He says. “I deal with opinions and circumstances.”
“You are smarter than any man in this castle.” You goad. “You know more than anyone else. You knew about me and Sir Choi.”
“You two are not subtle.” He quips.
“The Knights who fought for my favor,” you continue on, “both were handpicked by the late King, on your advice.”
Jeonghan watches. There is intensity in his stare.
“Why did you recommend Sir Choi for the job, Chief Councillor?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever assumption you have in your head, Your Majesty, please banish it. Seungcheol’s parentage had nothing to do with it. I recommended him because he was the best man for the job. And because he was my friend.”
“So what do you know about his parentage?” You press.
The door opens and Eunhee shuffles in with a tray. You don’t break from Jeonghan’s stare for one second, don’t even flinch, as she serves both you and him.
“Thank you, Eunhee.” You mumble. “You may leave. You must be tired. Go rest.”
She blinks, hesitating.
“It’s fine.” You reassure her. “Jeonghan will escort me back to my chambers, won’t you?”
The corner of Jeonghan’s lip ticks up, amused at the fact that you addressed him by his first name in front of your handmaid. You don’t know why you do it. A show of authority? To get a reaction out of him? He doesn’t give you any.
“Of course.”
Eunhee nods in finality. She bows to both of you, and finally leaves.
You sip your tea in silence. Neither of you speaks, and you begin to realise that you are bone-tired. You were ill the night before, and you had a short, fitful sleep. Then, you were woken in a panic. The last twelve hours have been too intense for you. You do not know what to do with yourself. It also is clear to you that Jeonghan has no intention of giving you a straight answer. Once your cup is finished, you place it gently on the table next to the sofa.
“Jeonghan,” You whisper. “Please take me back.”
Jeonghan nods, placing his own cup down and standing up. He pulls his cloak on again and offers you his arm. You take it gratefully, and leave the room.
The sun is barely visible through the castle windows. The sky is still mostly dark, and the heavy beats of horses hitting the ground are distant. The troops are moving out, it seems. You try not to think about it.
“I’m tired.” You confess in a quiet voice. Jeonghan nods.
“Rest well. And banish all worry from your head, my lady. I promise you, when you need to know anything, I will tell you myself.”
That makes you turn your head. You look up at Jeonghan’s profile. He feels your eyes on him, looking back with a sheepish smile.
“To be honest, I have my doubts too.” He confesses.
Your heart pounds. When you reach your door, you let go of Jeonghan’s arm and turn to face him. “Is there any way to verify?”
He looks like he is contemplating. “Maybe.”
You watch him expectantly, but he doesn’t elaborate, so you continue. “Will you?”
Jeonghan tilts his head in that way he does when he’s thinking. “The question is, Your Majesty, do you really want to know?”
You frown. “Of course I do.”
“What will that accomplish?” He continues. “What will it do except anger Seungcheol about his mother and the late King?”
You pause, staring at the Councillor. He sighs and shrugs, reaching around you to open the heavy oak door of your chambers.
“Think about it, that’s all I ask.” He says finally, and you enter your room, closing the door quietly behind you.
………………………………
Kwon Eunhee has worked in the castle for as long as she has been alive.
Her earliest memory comes from an age she cannot even pinpoint, but she remembers the place very clearly. It was the Queen Dowager’s parlor, a place so grand that she can’t help but recall it even today. It was her first brush with royalty, the young woman who had just been wed to the newly crowned King. Eunhee remembers her mother gripping her hand tightly as she stood near the wall, having accompanied the noblewoman she served there. Her mother had been a handmaid as well, as these things ran in generations. Eunhee knew that was her future too, and that day had been the first taste of the life she would live going forward.
Her mother’s mistress was attending the Queen’s court that day, and had requested she be there to serve tea later. Eunhee was little, but old enough now to help somewhat, like an apprentice. So far, she hadn’t done any work, limited only to small lessons her mother taught her. How to serve tea, how to peel fruit with minimal waste, where to sit and where to stand when ordered.
“Everyone prefers it differently.” She would always say. “My mistress, for example, likes to eat apples with their skin still on. But I have heard that Her Majesty despises the skin.”
Eunhee just listens and watches, passively learning at even a young age. As a handmaid, she knows the significance of making yourself small. She must not draw attention, and any task she does has to be so smooth and discrete that no one even realises she is there. She is meant to be invisible. That’s the gist of it. For years, she learned this skill, honed it until she was one of the best in the castle.
Eunhee always assumed she would be assigned to another noblewoman when she was of age and ready to work full time like her mother. She never expected, in a million years, for her mistress to be the newly wedded Princess. Even her own mother had been shocked at the appointment, but dared not question Her Majesty the Queen. Eunhee had been nervous, because she still remembered her first brush with royalty in the Queen’s parlor all those years ago. The giggling, cackling ladies-in-waiting who could not stop pouring wine into their glasses, overindulging in grapes and alcohol until they were concerningly red in the face. Their gossip was salacious, entirely unwarranted and mean spirited. Eunhee had walked away, as a young girl, with the impression that the closer you were to royal status, the more artificial your soul became.
You were different, though.
From day one, Eunhee knew you had been wronged. Hoodwinked into accepting conditions you had never been warned of, thrown to the wolves without warning. She had seen the genuine heartbreak in your eyes as you came to terms with it, and Eunhee’s own distaste for the Queen only grew. It was an intense feeling, and despite being trained all her life to tamp herself down as much as possible, Eunhee couldn’t help the venom that curled in her heart when watching her young mistress fall apart.
“Never you mind, Eunhee.” Soonyoung would always say when she complained at night, going over the events of the day, trying to lighten her load by confessing to her husband. “Royals are all like this, and their business is none of ours. The more you get involved, the worse it will end for you. So just keep your head down.”
But Eunhee couldn’t, not when she went to wake you up every morning, only to see dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Not when she had to excessively powder the bags under your eyes to try and hide how tired you were. And especially not when she was summoned by the Queen, asking for personal details on if you have bedded your husband yet.
It boiled her blood.
In Eunhee’s eyes, your affair with your Knight is not wrong in any way. Eunhee has known Sir Choi since they were both children, though she was far removed from him. His mother was a lady-in-waiting until she left the castle on the Queen’s orders, sending her son to the Royal Guard when he was merely seven years old, in order to train. Before he was Sir Choi, he was merely Choi Seungcheol, the fierce young boy who fought like his life depended on it. Eunhee watched him grow up, and grew up with him, the same as her mother’s mistress’ son, Yoon Jeonghan, who is now Chief Councillor to the King. Growing up in the castle meant that Eunhee had known all of them for years, and so she can vouch for Sir Choi’s integrity completely.
When Soonyoung told her of what he heard inside your chambers, Eunhee was thrilled, and in the best way. No one deserves love more than you, and no one is a better option for that than the boy she had seen grow into a wonderful man.
She can feel your pain when the troops leave, because she feels that pain herself. She had been prepared for Soonyoung’s departure for a while now, mentally steeling herself as much as possible, and she knows you have been doing the same, but you fall apart worse than she does, and try as she might, Eunhee cannot pick up the pieces.
The morning after their troops march out, His Majesty the King follows with a grand procession. It’s unsuited for a situation as grim and dire as a war, but he has never possessed any sort of tact, so Eunhee is not surprised. You stand at the castle gates, dressed impeccably in the attire Eunhee had picked out for you, breathtakingly beautiful as always. But Eunhee can see the glaze over your eyes. She can see how distant your stare is, unfocused. Your mind is elsewhere entirely, she knows, least interested in watching your husband depart for the battleground in his mighty carriage. It is easy to read the atmosphere. The noblemen stand around with an air of disinterest that rivals yours, except theirs is much more apathetic. The Queen Dowager had not even bothered to show for the farewell. Eunhee suspects that no one cares for their King’s departure, not really.
She cannot remember the last time a monarch was so deeply hated.
Preparing to leave with His Majesty is Chief Councillor Yoon, who looks strangely out of place in his armor. He is not a fighter, but war calls for this attire, and so he dons it. Eunhee swallows tightly as she remembers the night before.
He had found her in the kitchens after escorting you back to your room. She had been surprised when he stopped across the large, wooden table from her, watching her closely for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small sheet of paper. It was slightly yellow and wilted along the edges, held shut by an untouched, maroon wax seal. He set it gently on the table, in the center, and stepped back.
“Give this to her if Seungcheol dies during battle.”
The sentence had knocked all air out of her chest. Blunt, cold, and leaving no room for question. In her shock, she had only shakily nodded, watching him turn to leave the kitchens. She eyed the paper, how worn it was, how old it looked, as she carefully picked it up. The paper was waxy and delicate, and she half worried it might disintegrate in her hands.
She feels the weight of it burn her side where she has tucked it against the belt under the dress as she watches the Chief Councillor step into a carriage from over your shoulder. She longs to know what is written in it, but she has been trained all her life in the art of restraint. It is not her place to look, and she was trusted by one of the most important people in this castle with it. She will not break her word.
In all her years of experience, Eunhee has never gone through a war.
In some ways, nothing changes. She wakes up at the same time every morning. Her empty bed doesn’t bother her, since even before leaving, Soonyoung was always on duty at the time she woke up anyway. She makes her way to your chambers, wakes you and dresses you. She brews your tea, peels your fruit. Lord Jeon enters your chambers when the sun is higher in the sky, announcing events for the day. You leave, and Eunhee busies herself in cleaning and laundering.
There’s differences, of course. You being the most glaring one of all.
You worry yourself to the point of frequent sickness. It becomes harder and harder to wake you up in the morning, and you whine petulantly, almost like a child, at the notion of getting up. You are foggy and unfocused when Lord Jeon talks. You barely eat any of the fruit you would usually devour, instead just asking for stronger and stronger tea every morning.
The only time you are present is during Court. That’s where you come alive, and Eunhee suspects it’s because you know the pressure to keep morale high is upon your shoulders only. The Queen Dowager has not been involved since the late King’s death, and her son had left weeks ago. You are the only Royal holding up the staff and the church, and it’s a responsibility you take very seriously. It lifts Eunhee’s spirits as well, watching them all gravitate more and more towards you, placing more weight on your words and your decisions. Any news from the frontlines comes straight to you, and you deal with it wonderfully. You censor what needs censoring, twist what needs twisting in order to keep spirits up and hope intact. Lord Jeon is impressed, and it makes him more enthusiastic. Every message with your sign off that reaches the commonfolk is met now with hope and support.
It’s a welcome change.
But you are slipping, Eunhee can see, when the chamber doors shut in the evening and you are left alone with her. You weep every day when there are no personal letters from Seungcheol, or any indication of his wellbeing. Eunhee has heard from Soonyoung once only, and that was a few weeks ago, but you have not heard a word from Seungcheol at all, and she knows it is only making your anxiety worse.
But there’s something else, and Eunhee is starting to realise that the changes within you have maybe more to them than originally thought.
She knows she is not an expert, but the signs are there. The unexplainable fatigue, the nausea, and constantly sour mood. The only one who can confirm it is the older women in the castle or a court physician. But she wouldn’t dare breathe a word about this to anyone. Because if her suspicions are correct, the news could be disastrous….
The letter weighs heavily against her side, like a hidden dagger ready to cut. She wonders if you deserve to know the contents now, if you are really carrying Seungcheol’s blood within you. Must she wait for the horrible possibility of the Knight dying? Why was Jeonghan insistent on the letter being opened only in such a dire circumstance? What difference will be made on the information inside by the Knight’s life or his death?
Three months into the war, Eunhee receives her first ever letter from her husband. She is overjoyed when she reads his familiar, untidy scrawl. She doesn’t even mind how much of a struggle it is to decipher some of the words. It only endears her, sets her heart at ease. Tucked inside the letter is another one, folded smaller and tighter, and the scrawl on it reads as a much neater, loopier handwriting.
“This is the only way I could get a letter to Her Majesty without anyone knowing”
Eunhee rushes to you with the letter tucked under the collar of her dress. She watches your face light up when she tells you about it, your hands shaking as you unfold it. You read over each word hungrily, your cheeks flushing pinker towards the end, tears gathering in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbles. But this time, your crying is not filled with distress, but rather, relief. Eunhee knows then, that she must do something about her suspicions. Somehow, she must confirm them. If you are truly with child, with Seungcheol’s child, then you must be made aware of it.
She finds a midwife and describes all your symptoms as her own. The midwife is thrilled to congratulate her, and so Eunhee knows for certain.
……………………………
‘The nights here are long and cold, but every second my heart beats with the hope of returning to the warmth of your arms.’
Seungcheol’s grip on the quill tightens when he hears the fluttering of the thick canvas cloth of his tent. He snatches the parchment as he turns, trying to discreetly stuff it into his sleeve. He relaxes when Jeonghan’s lithe frame catches his eye. He huffs and smooths the parchment out, turning back to it.
“Writing to Her Majesty?”
He doesn’t answer, turning the letter over so Jeonghan won’t see what he has written. His friend chuckles and flops down on the bag Seungcheol has been sleeping on for many months now. He winces at how stiff it is, pursing his lips.
“How’s the shoulder?” He asks.
Seungcheol shrugs, but even that movement causes his left side to twinge slightly in pain. The wound has healed as much as it possibly can with the available medical care. It has left an ugly scar running diagonally over his collarbone and left shoulder, but it does not hinder his movements, and that is all that matters.
“It’s fine. Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol mumbles. It is a surprise, since Jeonghan is supposed to be present in an encampment some ten kilometers back, the same one that the King resides in. He’s not assigned to the frontlines, because he’s not a fighter. He is to stay with the King and the war generals and solidify plans, communicating any changes with Seungcheol’s brigade as needed.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
Seungcheol places his quill down carefully. It is the only one he has, so he can’t afford to lose it. He gives his friend his full attention.
“Yesterday, His Majesty suggested a widespread attack on the eastern front.”
Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “What?”
“He won’t say it, but I can tell he has grown weary of being here. He wants to wrap it up-”
“That’s a bad idea, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol’s voice hardens. “We aren’t ready for that. We don’t have the manpower, or the weapons.”
“I know that-”
“Then get it through his head too.” He snaps. “He has already made foolish decisions. I’m not letting any more of my men die.”
Jeonghan sighs, not bothered by the borderline disrespect in Seungcheol’s tone. It has been months of back and forth between the King and his fiercest Garrison Commander. Seungcheol is fed up with his reckless antics and inability to take advice. Every day, his frustration builds, because the King refuses to coordinate with Mingyu, still personally affronted by what happened long ago at Mingyu’s coronation.
“His petulance will cost us this war.” He mumbles, jaw clenched. “I will not let a man who has never so much as received a paper cut dictate how I command the lives of my men who bleed on enemy swords every day.”
Jeonghan watches him, half weary. “He wants to see you.”
That makes Seungcheol scowl. “Why?”
“Because you keep disobeying his direct orders, and he is furious.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “That’s why you’re here.”
Jeonghan nods.
Seungcheol is tired, but more importantly, he is irritated and angry. He understands hierarchy and respect for the Crown. Hell, he has preserved its integrity his whole life. But war is a special circumstance, and when soldiers’ lives are on the line, he cannot justify making reckless decisions on personal whims. As he barks instructions at Joshua, his second in command, and prepares to depart his post to see the King, he is already sure that he will cross the line of disrespect if the King tries to impose his selfish orders. He’s not sure he cares.
“If you continue on this trajectory, you will get dishonorably discharged the second we get back.” Jeonghan jokes. It only makes Seungcheol scoff.
“He can’t get rid of me.”
Jeonghan only smirks, because he knows it’s true. If this war has done one thing, it has cemented the fact that Choi Seungcheol is indispensable. He is their only chance at victory, and that word has gone back to the mainland as well. Unbeknownst to those at the borders, Jeonghan’s intel has shared clearly that Seungcheol will emerge from this war as a studded hero and nothing less. His already massive popularity has only risen in the months he has kept their forces solidified on the border.
In circumstances like this, even a monarch can be rendered powerless.
The King’s encampment is repulsive to Seungcheol. Grand in a way that is inappropriate for the battlefront, and he wonders how much of their limited resources go into maintaining it every day, resources that should be used to benefit their troops. Seungcheol’s armor clinks as he moves. He has loosened it slightly, but not taken it off entirely. Months of being at war has left him on edge and paranoid.
None of his alertness can be reflected in the man on the makeshift throne, and not in his many generals surrounding a large table map of their borders. They are all relaxed in a way Seungcheol has not seen in months, almost as if war has never happened. It’s a sharp contrast that almost stuns him. The men are old, near withered, but some of them Seungcheol recognises as his predecessors, decorated soldiers whose input he respects. He understands the need for them, and he holds their orders in the highest regard. It’s just that he does not trust a boy who has not stepped foot out of his sheltered castle walls unless it is to be serenaded by his people.
Every day, he is disdainful that you are married to this man. But no matter. You are his in every way that counts.
Seojoon sits on his Throne, looking particularly disinterested as Seungcheol greets him and bows. He has barely lifted his knee off the ground before the man is speaking.
“The fact that I had to call you all the way here just to straighten you out is irritating.” His voice is grating. “But you are here now. And I want to know what gives you the right to refuse any of my explicit orders.”
Seungcheol takes a deep breath before answering, already put off by the tone. “Attacking the eastern border right now would be catastrophic for our men. We are in no position to land a successful strike.”
The King rolls his eyes with an ugly curl of his lip. “This is getting on my nerves.”
Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek and says nothing. His eyes meet Jeonghan’s, who stands to the side, but the man only makes a weary face. There’s no reasoning with the King. He killed his own father for the Throne, everyone in this room knows that. Expecting loyalty and consideration from him is folly.
“May I interject, Your Majesty.” One of the men in the room pipes up, drawing attention. Seungcheol recognises him as one of the senior members of the war committee. “If His Majesty King Mingyu’s troops were to rendezvous with us along the north, we might be able to launch a full scale attack that can be effective.”
Seungcheol frowns, contemplating. It’s true. While still not entirely wise, it is the current best option they have-
“How long will that take?” Seojoon asks.
The man hesitates. “Two weeks, at minimum.”
The King scowls again. “That is too long. We attack tomorrow at dawn.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps towards the man, jaw dropped. Jeonghan looks just as alarmed, and unrest spreads in the room as whispers. Seungcheol rises to his feet.
“Your Majesty-”
“I won’t hear any of your nonsense, Seungcheol.” He snaps. “It has been over four months. If I had known if would take this long-”
Seungcheol wants to interject again, to yell at the man that war takes years, and four months is nothing in comparison. But Seojoon is already standing and walking to the table, using his fist to rap on the wood as a judge would in finality.
Seungcheol walks to the table as well, standing next to the King. He glares at him, but for the first time, Seungcheol glares right back. He stands a few inches taller than the man, and it makes him feel a small sense of power.
“If we attack now, we will lose any ground we hold. They will retaliate, and I don’t have enough men to ensure anyone’s safety when that happens. Including yours.”
It’s almost like the whole room collectively holds their breath, watching the two men stare each other down. Seojoon’s eyes darken in indignation, the exact same color as Seungcheol’s.
“You will do as I say.” He spits out. “And you will not question me.”
Movement behind the King makes Seungcheol’s eyes shift. Jeonghan, standing farther off, shakes his head perceptibly, as if telling Seungcheol to stay quiet. So he stiffens his jaw and nods, even if every fibre of his being wants to do otherwise.
As he leaves the large encampment, his blood boils. He thinks of the incomplete letter under his blanket, and he knows any feeling he has poured into it might be in vain. He won’t be able to send it to you. He doesn’t even know if he will be alive at this time tomorrow.
Sometimes, the egos of the rulers result in tragic consequences, and Seungcheol is unsure if there is anything he can do to prevent them.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.5k
warnings (for this chapter): some fluff, angst, mentions of political talks, alliances, mentions of war the the battleground, some suggestive content but not very explicit, mentions of childbearing, death, bloodshed and injuries.
series masterlist
It is when winter starts bleeding into spring that things take a turn for the worst. Both within the castle walls and outside.
It is very easy to keep up appearances. Ever since the demise of the late King, and the subsequent takeover from your husband, everything became about optics very quickly. The reason for this shift was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes. War loomed near, and the new King’s behavior indicated much more nefarious reasons for the death of an old, beloved monarch. But no one dared question, no one dared protest. Because he is the sole heir, the only one of his bloodline left, and until you are to bear a child for this family, none can question his authority unless they want the Crown to fall.
And so his behavior is excused. Jeonghan, the Court’s Chief Councillor, struggles day in and day out to keep up appearances, both inside and outside the castle. In your opinion, there is no managing the unmanageable, but you must laud Jeonghan for his tireless efforts to do so. You know that your husband is a disdainful, disgusting man, with a brain still devoid of maturity and diplomatic manners. No one holds more contempt for him than yourself, but at the end of the day, you are his wife, the Queen Consort, and you must do what you can to compensate for his incompetence.
Your step-up, born mostly from necessity, ends up going very largely in your favor.
When you hold Court, it is in high spirits and with enthusiastic participation, despite the dread and gloom that comes with the threat of war. Something about your blood relation to His Majesty Kim Mingyu seems to solidify everyone’s allyship to his Kingdom, which you know your brother is endlessly thankful for, if his letters are anything to go by. Public opinion and support is crucial in times like this, and your presence, once an afterthought and a dismissed annoyance, now inspires. Church clergy love you for your respect of their authority, castle staff reveres you except the few who serve the King as his mistresses, and Noblewomen who once sneered at you for not bearing a child now seem a bit more warm to you. They still want an heir, since that is considered your primary duty, but in conditions where everything else seems bleak, you know everyone finds your strong command on your Court refreshing.
Lord Jeon is positively aglow by your favorable reputation.
“I have known of you long, Your Majesty.” He muses. “But never was I made aware of your intellectual prowess. Was Her Majesty trained in the arts of the Courts as a child?”
You giggle and shake your head. “Not formally. But my brother made sure I learned.”
This explanation worked two fold. Direct tutelage under a reigning King helped solidify your authority, and it also established Mingyu’s credibility among your subjects.
Another reason people are warming up to you now is the glaring absence of your mother in law’s constant barrage of veiled insults towards you. The Queen Dowager, your mother in law, has her own staff, of course, but she keeps herself far removed from castle happenings these days. Ever since the late King’s death, she has become somewhat of a recluse, a surprising change that you didn’t expect from a woman who famously cared only of her relationship with her husband enough to bear him a child, and no more. You are endlessly puzzled by her withdrawal, staying exclusively with her ladies-in-waiting and entertaining no other audience, not even her Court. Well beloved among the castle staff, this has caused a great rift between the ruling King and the previous Crown. It agitates your husband that his own mother is unsupportive of his authority, which pleases you to no end, but you know it also weighs like a heavy burden on Jeonghan.
“I know it will be difficult, but I come to you with this request.” He says to you one night when Seungcheol brings him to your chambers. You are shocked to see him there, but you know it must be important if he is breaking formality like this. “Please ask the Queen Mother to attend the King’s Court. Only the King’s Court, and no other obligation. Despite your strongest efforts, Your Majesty, approval among noblemen for the new King is not faring well.”
You huff and nod from where you sit in your armchair, even if you deeply resent the idea of asking anything of that woman. You will do it for Jeonghan, because he has always been nothing but kind to you, and you will do it because Seungcheol himself brought the man to your door. Your honor refuses to turn down his request.
When Jeonghan leaves, Seungcheol remains, as he always does these nights. You smile and place your tea cup down, eyes fluttering when he places his lips on the crown of your head from behind you where you sit, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Incredible of Jeonghan to come and see me with this request.” You muse, watching the fireplace. Your Knight hums, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, kneading them softly. You sigh and relax.
“You are popular these days, my love.”
You smile, letting him work on the knots in your shoulder. Then, he says words you have come to despise.
“I must leave early today.”
You look up, watching his face upside down where he stands behind your chair. “Why so?”
“Meetings.” He looks apologetic. “Intelligence tells us that troops will be moving when the winter snow melts soon. We have to be prepared.”
You huff, rolling your eyes. Seungcheol’s workload has exponentially increased ever since war has become a real concern. Some nights, he stays for hours, some, not long at all.
“How long before they expect you?” You ask.
Seungcheol ponders. “Fifteen minutes?”
You turn in your chair, disengaging with his hands to look up at him with a half lidded gaze.
“Make the most of them then, Sir Choi.”
And he does, disrobing you in record time, pressing your front into the sheets of your bed and pushing into you from behind with just his slacks tugged down enough to set himself free. It is quick, messy and sizzling hot, his fingers tangled in your hair, your sounds muffled in the cloth you are lying on as he pounds you just the way he has learned you like the most, the pace that carries you to your end the fastest. He fills you up with his seed, warmth bathing your insides, and his lips feverishly running over your neck as he groans and curses, whispering into your ear how much he loves you. He doesn’t pull out until he’s sure your body is melting into the mattress, leaving you pliant and buzzing comfortably. He never compromises in cleaning you up afterwards and making sure you are cozy. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he leaves, your nude body tucked into bed, lips tingling from the force of his kisses, and his own jacket not even an inch out of place, but the taste of your still lingering in his mouth.
You’ve both become good at enjoying your rendezvous to the fullest.
When your steward comes to you the next morning to go over your agenda for the day, you interrupt him before he can begin and tell him about Jeonghan’s unexpected visit.
Wonwoo ponders and nods, scribbling something on the parchment.
“I will arrange for a meeting. Maybe over tea. I will let you know when I have something, Your Majesty.”
One thing about Wonwoo is that he is efficient, because that very evening, you are approved for an audience with the Queen Dowager and seated in her parlor while her handmaids serve you tea and cakes. Once your plate is made, and so is hers, she dismisses the handmaids, and they quietly scuttle out of the room.
“Why have you come?” She asks, twisting her wrist to swirl the tea in her cup. She stares intently at it instead of you. Her voice is muted, unlike the booming timbre she has always had in the many years she has ruled this castle. You hesitate and take a deep breath.
“I’ve come with a humble request, Queen Mother.” You begin.
“Oh?” She still does not look at you. “And what is it?”
Again, you pause. You don’t know how to phrase it without offending her sensibilities.
“Things have been much different since His Majesty’s most tragic passing.” You say. “Your Majesty has not graced us with her presence as often as we would have liked.”
To your shock, she laughs. A single, sharp sound that hits your ear more like a scoff than actual humor.
“You would not like it, I’m sure.”
You shake your head. “I certainly would.”
“Do not lie to me, girl.”
Girl. You grit your teeth. You do not like this form of dismissive address.
“Your son, then.” You concede. “His Majesty would like your presence to be more apparent.”
You watch her lips curl, an ugly sneer overtaking them. She swirls the cup quicker, the liquid dangerously close to the lip, almost spilling. Her eyes are still on it, but far away. She seems to pay no attention to what she is doing.
“My son.” She murmurs. “My son. He cares naught for my presence. My son. His father’s murderer.”
You gasp, shocked. “Your Majesty-”
“I have been a fool for many years.” She keeps going, stare distant. It is almost as if she doesn’t even care that you are there. “Dismissed and discarded because I hold no value. Overshadowed by harlots and concubines, unending women who did for my husband only that which I was supposed to.”
Your throat tightens. You watch, frozen still, as she spills feelings you have held in the deepest chambers of your heart your entire married life.
“Until Seojoon. Until his birth, I was nothing. After his birth, I was…..” Her hand pauses. The tea in her cup goes stationary. “I was mother to the Heir Apparent. I bore a son for the Crown, and so I had value. Endless value that none of his other women had. One of them bore him a daughter. Another one bore him a son. But I had a son first. And mine was legitimate. Unlike those second-hand scum.”
“Seojoon was perfect in my eyes, because he was mine. He came from me, from my blood and my womb, and not from the despicable four walls that I lived in. He was without fault. Pure. He could do no wrong because I bore him. The Heir to the Throne. His only legitimate child. The future of our Kingdom. A ruler. Smart. Handsome.”
Her face twists again. Hardens. “A conspirator. Liar. Killer.”
Her voice shakes. You don’t dare move an inch. Silence descends on you both, heavy and potent. You watch her closely as she takes in a shaky breath, her chest rising with it. Her skin is deeply wrinkled, and she looks like she has aged years in the span of mere months.
“Will you do the same thing?” She says, quieter this time. “Bear his child and believe it to be pure until the day he proves otherwise?”
Your teeth grit. “I will never bear his child.”
Her eyes finally turn to you, focusing for the first time since your arrival. She looks at you directly, something she has never done for such a long stretch of time. You do everything in your power to not flinch, to not blink.
“Right.” She whispers. “You will bear that Knight’s instead.”
Your blood runs cold. You stare, unmoving, at the woman as she finally sips her tea. She swallows and then sighs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
“No matter. It will be an heir, in any case.”
Your lips part, caught between shock and confusion, your hands balled into fists. You struggle to string words together, to say something, anything, to question what she has just stated. But before you can, she reaches for the tiny bell on her table, shaking it. Thin, trilling sound fills the space, and seconds later, her handmaids step in.
“I’ve heard your request.” She says, finally. “You may leave.”
You don’t protest.
The walk back to your chambers is numb. You can barely remember the journey, nor do you pay much heed to Wonwoo as he rattles on about what you must do next. When you reach your door, Soonyoung pulls it open, and you raise a hand up to make your steward stop talking.
“I feel unwell.” You mumble. “I will be retiring for the day.”
He blinks, concern flitting over his features. “Shall I summon a doctor, Your Majesty?”
You shake your head. “I just wish to lay down. You’re dismissed, Wonwoo.”
He bows, nodding. He looks unconvinced, but takes you for your word. As he turns to leave, Soonyoung looks carefully at you.
“Shall I send for Sir Choi?” He asked in a low voice. You give him a grateful smile and shake your head again.
“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Thank you.” Your voice sounds hollow. You say nothing more, closing the door behind you after entering your room.
The silence is suffocating, but it is your only friend right now. In the quiet air, you recall the interaction that left you this way.
She knew.
You don’t know if, in hindsight, it was naïveté that convinced you of your secret being safe. Soonyoung and Eunhee know, but Seungcheol swore up and down Soonyoung would never tell, and you know for certain Eunhee is trustworthy. The circle of the knowing is iron clad. The Queen Mother finding out feels near impossible, yet she did.
Then again, there are the rumors. Everyone in the castle is famously aware of your disdain for your husband. You make no secret of it. The Queen Mother knows you will never lie with him, and if she knows, her ladies know, which means everyone knows. Loose-lipped, all of them. They do not care for keeping secrets. Rumors of you and Seungcheol have existed since the day he was declared your Champion. It just so happens that now, those rumors are true. That being said, the Queen Mother could just be operating on those old rumors. She has no proof that they are not rumors anymore.
You sit shakily on your armchair, trying to relax into it like you always do, but failing. Your corset digs painfully into your back, and this time, you feel it acutely. Her voice rings in your ear, and the second, more dreadful part of her address floats through your short term memory.
It will be an heir, in any case.
Your heartbeat speeds up, mind reeling with implications. She could not have meant what you thought she did. What did she mean by ‘in any case’? No child born of Seungcheol can be an heir. It can’t….
You stare into the fire, the flames that dance back and forth, and you remember a time far back when your Knight kneeled by your legs as you stared into the same fireplace, when your own heart was breaking at the seams because of the Queen Mother’s words. He told you then, of his own mother, a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, and how so many in the circle were the King’s mistresses. Could it be that Seungcheol’s own mother….?
No.
You do not dare entertain that idea. You do not dare. Because that would mean Seungcheol is-
Bile rises to your throat at an alarming speed. You barely make it to your basin before you heave, brown liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the ceramic. Your mind spins. You heave again, guts twisting. Tears fill your eyes.
Seungcheol could be your husband’s half brother.
You grip the edge of the basin tight and sink down, curling on yourself against the stone floor to take deep breaths. You can’t think like this. You can’t. This is a wild assumption. Shame fills your head at the very thought, but that look on your mother in law’s face haunts you, blank but sharp, like she knows something you don’t. Something sick curls in your chest again, and you fight to swallow it down.
You jump when hands meet your arms, head jerking up. You blink sharply, the world coming into focus again, sounds clearing.
“Your Majesty?”
Slanted, wide eyes meet yours, alarmed and hesitant. You sway a little as you stand, but Soonyoung’s hold on you is strong, and he keeps you in place.
“Are you okay?”
You are not, very clearly, but his question makes your face crumple. Thick tears spill down your cheeks. You sniffle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Soonyoung. I don’t know why my life is like this.”
Soonyoung looks almost scared, like a fish out of water as he tries to think of what to say. You pay him no heed, your head still spinning and the sickness in your chest so acute that you want to vomit again. You cough and sway, unsteady where you lean against the basin again. Soonyoung’s grip on your arms tightens.
“Let’s start simple then, okay? Let’s go lie down first.”
You only nod blankly, letting the guard slowly guide you out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You lie down, despite the difficulty your attire gives you, and stare blankly at the far wall.
“I will send for a doctor, Your Majesty.” Soonyoung says. You immediately shake your head.
“No doctor. Only Eunhee.”
He hesitates. “You are terribly ill. Please allow me to call a healer.”
You refuse again. “I just need some strong tea. I’m just….. overwhelmed.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue anymore. He leaves the room, and you don’t move for fear of hurling again. You close your burning eyes, trying to undo some of the notions you have created in your head. You cannot think like this, because they are all baseless. You have no proof. One sentence out of the Queen Mother’s mouth is not confirmation. You are building immense assumptions and they are leaving you half mad.
Eunhee’s hands are cool on your skin, and it makes your eyes pop open when you feel them on your forehead. Her face is scrunched in concern as she looks you over. Behind her, Soonyoung stands a few paces away, wringing his hands nervously.
“Should I call a doctor?” He asks his wife. You make a face.
“I told you, Soonyoung. No doctor.”
He stiffens and bows his head in apology. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
Eunhee looks hesitant. She kneels by your bedside, her head level with you. “Should we send for Sir Choi?”
You ponder, going over your current mental state, and you realise you cannot face Seungcheol like this. He will want to know what caused it, what was said to you, and he is stubborn enough to pursue it until he can find out the exact reason, with the intention of eliminating anything that caused you distress. You can’t tell him this. Not yet, at least. So you shake your head, something that surprises both Eunhee and Soonyoung, but they accept your decision.
The rest of the night is subdued. Eunhee brews a calming cup of tea and squeezes a lemon into it. It settles the queasiness in your stomach, and she quickly helps you change into more comfortable clothes. You don’t speak much, lost in your head instead. When the embers in the fireplace finally start dying down, in the dead of the night, you conclude that you had certainly overreacted.
It was ludicrous to even insinuate that Seungcheol might be Royal blood. He is a Knight, a very popular one at that. If this was true, someone out there would have definitely said something. And so you vow to yourself to dismiss this idea completely. The coming morning will be fresh and new, and you can put this horrible night behind you.
The next morning comes, but not the way you imagined.
You are woken by Eunhee shaking you urgently. For a split second, you fear you have overslept, which is why your handmaid is waking you. But one look at the window tells you that the sky is still mostly dim, and Eunhee is here way ahead of time. One look at her face has you freezing, pale, near sickly, and overcome with panic.
“What is it?” You ask her, voice still hoarse with sleep as you sit up, trying to clear your heavy eyes. Your brain is barely awake.
“It is beginning.” She says. “Troops are readying themselves. A herald from your brother’s kingdom arrived an hour ago. The Guard is moving out.”
Your veins freeze. Breath traps itself in your throat. You push your sheets off, your bare feet hitting the stone floor. Eunhee looks disheveled, almost. She is panting, and you realise she ran all the way here. You look at your chamber doors. Slightly ajar. There is no movement outside, but you can hear shouts, neighs and hoofbeats through your windows. Sounds of clinking metal and leather boots hitting the ground accompany them. You look at Eunhee again.
“Soonyoung too?” You ask. She nods.
Your heart squeezes for the woman. You cannot imagine what it must be like for her to watch her husband leave for a war from which he may never return. Well, you can, and your intake of breath is sharp.
“Seungcheol?” Your voice trembles.
Eunhee looks pained. “He is about to leave too. He’s in the stables. Their journey will be long, so they must set off immediately.”
Your heart fills with unimaginable dread. You push off the bed, sliding your bare feet into slippers.
“Get my cloak, Eunhee.”
Your handmaid blinks, shocked. “Your Majesty, you cannot-”
“Did you say farewell to Soonyoung?” You ask sharply.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Would you be okay with me not getting that chance?”
Her face slumps, resigned. She does not say more, rushing to your wardrobe and pulling out a heavy, black cloak to cover your barely clad body. She gives you one more look, and quietly, you both slip out from your chambers.
It is barely sunrise, which means no castle staff, noblemen or maids linger. The stone hallways are empty, lit by torches on either side that guide your way. Eunhee seems to know exactly where she is going. She is quick footed and quiet, and you follow her lead. Many descending stairs take you down narrow corridors you have never walked before, and finally, Eunhee stops in front of a large, brown gate. On the other side, you can hear shouting. Through the narrow slits in the wooden slates, you can barely make out movement nearing levels of commotion. Eunhee looks around and paces back, pulling open a smaller door in the wall of the corridor.
“Your Majesty, my apologies, but you will have to wait here while I get to Sir Choi.” She says. “I cannot take you in there with me.”
You understand, nodding and stepping into what appears to be a broom closet. It is small and dusty, and you hike up your cloak slightly to prevent it from dirtying as Eunhee shuts the door behind you. It is pitch black inside, blinking makes no difference, and you muffle a cough as the stale air of the space stings your nose. You wait, your ears on high alert, your heart pounding.
When the large door made of wooden slabs creaks, voices fill the corridor outside. You stare, unwatching. Finally, your door is pulled open slightly. You blink at the onslaught of light. Eunhee’s face comes into focus. She steps aside.
Seungcheol is standing behind her, face pulled taut in alarm. He is clad head to toe in metal plates, encasing every part of his body for protection. His sword hangs by the side of his hip. Even beneath the heavy armor, you can see his posture stiffen when he sees you. You speak before he can.
“I had to see you.” You plead with your eyes, already gathering unshed tears between your lids. “I couldn’t let you leave like this.”
Seungcheol sighs heavily, walking closer to you. “Someone could see.”
You shake your head. “I don’t care.”
His eyes dart over your face, like he’s trying to memorise it. You can’t help but reach up, a shaky hand meeting his cheek. His eyelids flutter under your touch. You don’t heed the fact that Eunhee is standing right there, and so is Soonyoung, a few paces behind you and your Knight.
“Forgive me, my Queen.” Seungcheol whispers. “Leaving you like this might be my biggest sin.”
You shake your head, trying to give him a placating smile. “As long as you come back to me, I will forgive you.”
He takes one more step forward, a tiny shuffle that allows him to bow his head. His hair brushes over your face. Your breath hitches. You close the distance, lips landing on his in a searing kiss. His leather covered hands meet your waist under your heavy cloak, scrunching the material of your thin nightdress between his fingers. His touch feels like fire, and your face crumples so much that you weep into his mouth, breaking the kiss.
“My love…” Seungcheol breathes, his unoccupied hand finding your cheek, wiping the wet tracks. “Please, your tears pain me.”
“Promise me you will come back.” You plead. “You’re all I have.”
Seungcheol’s eyebrows scrunch, his eyes are clouded with sorrow. He kisses your forehead, a harsh press of his lips that feels like he is trying to leave his heart there with you.
“Have I ever broken my oath to you before?” He whispers into your skin. “I have no intentions of starting now.”
You nod. He kisses you again, softer this time. Metal clinks behind him.
“Sir, we must go.” Soonyoung sounds hesitant but urgent.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, looks you over once more. “Take care of yourself. For me.”
You nod, trying your best not to sob. You don’t want to worry him as he leaves. You take a deep breath, your limbs screaming when he pulls away. He quickly pulls up the cloak to cover you again, gives you a final smile. You watch him hungrily, taking him in. The prominent ridge of his thick eyebrows, the sharp slope of his nose, plump and pink lips, the jut of his jaw, perfect and unblemished pale skin. His hair, glorious locks of dark brown flowing past his face. When he turns, you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a single sight of him. The wooden door is pushed open. The two men slip through it, and it shuts heavily behind them.
Your strength breaks.
Eunhee barely has time to grip your shoulders as you slump, pulling the material of the cloak up to your mouth to muffle your sob into it. She pulls your body to hers so she can keep you upright. And she lets you cry. You feel so much in that moment. Grief, dread, confusion, so much pain.
Another feeling, panic, quickly joins all of these when a voice sounds behind you.
“Well, I’m not exactly surprised to find you here.”
You would recognise it anywhere. The sly tilt, soft and slightly jovial. Eunhee gasps and turns, pulling you with her. Jeonghan is standing a few feet behind both of you, weighed down by an open, brown cloak, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Between your sobs, you had not heard him come up so close, which is your fault. He looks almost amused. His eyes flit to Eunhee for a brief second, landing back on you. Your tear stained face, the circles under your eyes. He sighs and gestures before turning around to walk away. When neither of you move to follow, he speaks.
“Come on. Unless you would enjoy being caught.”
Eunhee spurs you forward, and you will your feet to muster up some strength. You shuffle a few paces behind Jeonghan. He is near silent, like a ghost, and even his clothes don’t make any noise as he walks. He leads you both up a rogue flight of stairs. Minutes later, he opens a door to what looks like a sitting room, shelves lining walls, floors draped with cozy rugs and sprawling sofas and armchairs. There is no fireplace, so the room is chilly, but your body is already very heated, so you don’t mind. You settle onto one end of a sofa, leaning against the arm support. Eunhee looks panicked, and Jeonghan seems to notice.
“Will you arrange for some tea, please? Two cups. Strong for Her Majesty.”
Eunhee nods, looking relieved to leave, and she quickly scampers out, leaving you alone with the man.
Jeonghan shrugs off his cloak, leaving him in a simple shirt and slacks. He drapes the cloak over the armchair across from you and settles on it, crossing one leg over the other. Then, he just watches you silently. You shift under his stare, eyeing the rich, maroon carpet.
“You have nothing to say to me, Chief Councillor?” Your voice is hoarse.
Jeonghan hums, tilting his head like he’s contemplating. “Maybe just to warn you that it was extremely reckless to say goodbye like that.”
You sigh. “No one saw us.”
“I did.”
“And will you do anything about it?” Your eyes shift up to meet his. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles.
“I haven’t done anything so far. Why would I start now?”
You lean back on the sofa, closing your eyes. You feel exhausted.
“How long have you known?”
Jeonghan’s foot sways a little, like he’s moving it to a tune in his head. “Long.”
You stare up at the ceiling. “It seems like everybody knows.”
He shrugs. “Suspicions only.”
“The Queen Mother said something about it.”
He waves a hand, as if in dismissal. “She loves gossip.”
“She said something else too.” You eye the man, trying to gauge his reaction. As always, his face is smooth as porcelain. He gives nothing away. “About Seungcheol.”
“Oh?” Jeonghan picks his nails.
“About his parentage.” You tack on.
His eyes flit up again then, and this time, they stay on you. “What are you implying, Your Majesty?”
You shrug. “I imply nothing. I merely ask if you know.”
“What am I supposed to have known?”
You huff, feeling irritation gnaw at you. “Must you always answer my question with a question?”
That makes him laugh, and it breaks the heavy, suffocating air a little. It lessens some of the weight on your chest, and you remember why you enjoy Jeonghan’s company so much.
“I am an advisor, my lady.” He says. “I deal with opinions and circumstances.”
“You are smarter than any man in this castle.” You goad. “You know more than anyone else. You knew about me and Sir Choi.”
“You two are not subtle.” He quips.
“The Knights who fought for my favor,” you continue on, “both were handpicked by the late King, on your advice.”
Jeonghan watches. There is intensity in his stare.
“Why did you recommend Sir Choi for the job, Chief Councillor?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever assumption you have in your head, Your Majesty, please banish it. Seungcheol’s parentage had nothing to do with it. I recommended him because he was the best man for the job. And because he was my friend.”
“So what do you know about his parentage?” You press.
The door opens and Eunhee shuffles in with a tray. You don’t break from Jeonghan’s stare for one second, don’t even flinch, as she serves both you and him.
“Thank you, Eunhee.” You mumble. “You may leave. You must be tired. Go rest.”
She blinks, hesitating.
“It’s fine.” You reassure her. “Jeonghan will escort me back to my chambers, won’t you?”
The corner of Jeonghan’s lip ticks up, amused at the fact that you addressed him by his first name in front of your handmaid. You don’t know why you do it. A show of authority? To get a reaction out of him? He doesn’t give you any.
“Of course.”
Eunhee nods in finality. She bows to both of you, and finally leaves.
You sip your tea in silence. Neither of you speaks, and you begin to realise that you are bone-tired. You were ill the night before, and you had a short, fitful sleep. Then, you were woken in a panic. The last twelve hours have been too intense for you. You do not know what to do with yourself. It also is clear to you that Jeonghan has no intention of giving you a straight answer. Once your cup is finished, you place it gently on the table next to the sofa.
“Jeonghan,” You whisper. “Please take me back.”
Jeonghan nods, placing his own cup down and standing up. He pulls his cloak on again and offers you his arm. You take it gratefully, and leave the room.
The sun is barely visible through the castle windows. The sky is still mostly dark, and the heavy beats of horses hitting the ground are distant. The troops are moving out, it seems. You try not to think about it.
“I’m tired.” You confess in a quiet voice. Jeonghan nods.
“Rest well. And banish all worry from your head, my lady. I promise you, when you need to know anything, I will tell you myself.”
That makes you turn your head. You look up at Jeonghan’s profile. He feels your eyes on him, looking back with a sheepish smile.
“To be honest, I have my doubts too.” He confesses.
Your heart pounds. When you reach your door, you let go of Jeonghan’s arm and turn to face him. “Is there any way to verify?”
He looks like he is contemplating. “Maybe.”
You watch him expectantly, but he doesn’t elaborate, so you continue. “Will you?”
Jeonghan tilts his head in that way he does when he’s thinking. “The question is, Your Majesty, do you really want to know?”
You frown. “Of course I do.”
“What will that accomplish?” He continues. “What will it do except anger Seungcheol about his mother and the late King?”
You pause, staring at the Councillor. He sighs and shrugs, reaching around you to open the heavy oak door of your chambers.
“Think about it, that’s all I ask.” He says finally, and you enter your room, closing the door quietly behind you.
………………………………
Kwon Eunhee has worked in the castle for as long as she has been alive.
Her earliest memory comes from an age she cannot even pinpoint, but she remembers the place very clearly. It was the Queen Dowager’s parlor, a place so grand that she can’t help but recall it even today. It was her first brush with royalty, the young woman who had just been wed to the newly crowned King. Eunhee remembers her mother gripping her hand tightly as she stood near the wall, having accompanied the noblewoman she served there. Her mother had been a handmaid as well, as these things ran in generations. Eunhee knew that was her future too, and that day had been the first taste of the life she would live going forward.
Her mother’s mistress was attending the Queen’s court that day, and had requested she be there to serve tea later. Eunhee was little, but old enough now to help somewhat, like an apprentice. So far, she hadn’t done any work, limited only to small lessons her mother taught her. How to serve tea, how to peel fruit with minimal waste, where to sit and where to stand when ordered.
“Everyone prefers it differently.” She would always say. “My mistress, for example, likes to eat apples with their skin still on. But I have heard that Her Majesty despises the skin.”
Eunhee just listens and watches, passively learning at even a young age. As a handmaid, she knows the significance of making yourself small. She must not draw attention, and any task she does has to be so smooth and discrete that no one even realises she is there. She is meant to be invisible. That’s the gist of it. For years, she learned this skill, honed it until she was one of the best in the castle.
Eunhee always assumed she would be assigned to another noblewoman when she was of age and ready to work full time like her mother. She never expected, in a million years, for her mistress to be the newly wedded Princess. Even her own mother had been shocked at the appointment, but dared not question Her Majesty the Queen. Eunhee had been nervous, because she still remembered her first brush with royalty in the Queen’s parlor all those years ago. The giggling, cackling ladies-in-waiting who could not stop pouring wine into their glasses, overindulging in grapes and alcohol until they were concerningly red in the face. Their gossip was salacious, entirely unwarranted and mean spirited. Eunhee had walked away, as a young girl, with the impression that the closer you were to royal status, the more artificial your soul became.
You were different, though.
From day one, Eunhee knew you had been wronged. Hoodwinked into accepting conditions you had never been warned of, thrown to the wolves without warning. She had seen the genuine heartbreak in your eyes as you came to terms with it, and Eunhee’s own distaste for the Queen only grew. It was an intense feeling, and despite being trained all her life to tamp herself down as much as possible, Eunhee couldn’t help the venom that curled in her heart when watching her young mistress fall apart.
“Never you mind, Eunhee.” Soonyoung would always say when she complained at night, going over the events of the day, trying to lighten her load by confessing to her husband. “Royals are all like this, and their business is none of ours. The more you get involved, the worse it will end for you. So just keep your head down.”
But Eunhee couldn’t, not when she went to wake you up every morning, only to see dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Not when she had to excessively powder the bags under your eyes to try and hide how tired you were. And especially not when she was summoned by the Queen, asking for personal details on if you have bedded your husband yet.
It boiled her blood.
In Eunhee’s eyes, your affair with your Knight is not wrong in any way. Eunhee has known Sir Choi since they were both children, though she was far removed from him. His mother was a lady-in-waiting until she left the castle on the Queen’s orders, sending her son to the Royal Guard when he was merely seven years old, in order to train. Before he was Sir Choi, he was merely Choi Seungcheol, the fierce young boy who fought like his life depended on it. Eunhee watched him grow up, and grew up with him, the same as her mother’s mistress’ son, Yoon Jeonghan, who is now Chief Councillor to the King. Growing up in the castle meant that Eunhee had known all of them for years, and so she can vouch for Sir Choi’s integrity completely.
When Soonyoung told her of what he heard inside your chambers, Eunhee was thrilled, and in the best way. No one deserves love more than you, and no one is a better option for that than the boy she had seen grow into a wonderful man.
She can feel your pain when the troops leave, because she feels that pain herself. She had been prepared for Soonyoung’s departure for a while now, mentally steeling herself as much as possible, and she knows you have been doing the same, but you fall apart worse than she does, and try as she might, Eunhee cannot pick up the pieces.
The morning after their troops march out, His Majesty the King follows with a grand procession. It’s unsuited for a situation as grim and dire as a war, but he has never possessed any sort of tact, so Eunhee is not surprised. You stand at the castle gates, dressed impeccably in the attire Eunhee had picked out for you, breathtakingly beautiful as always. But Eunhee can see the glaze over your eyes. She can see how distant your stare is, unfocused. Your mind is elsewhere entirely, she knows, least interested in watching your husband depart for the battleground in his mighty carriage. It is easy to read the atmosphere. The noblemen stand around with an air of disinterest that rivals yours, except theirs is much more apathetic. The Queen Dowager had not even bothered to show for the farewell. Eunhee suspects that no one cares for their King’s departure, not really.
She cannot remember the last time a monarch was so deeply hated.
Preparing to leave with His Majesty is Chief Councillor Yoon, who looks strangely out of place in his armor. He is not a fighter, but war calls for this attire, and so he dons it. Eunhee swallows tightly as she remembers the night before.
He had found her in the kitchens after escorting you back to your room. She had been surprised when he stopped across the large, wooden table from her, watching her closely for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small sheet of paper. It was slightly yellow and wilted along the edges, held shut by an untouched, maroon wax seal. He set it gently on the table, in the center, and stepped back.
“Give this to her if Seungcheol dies during battle.”
The sentence had knocked all air out of her chest. Blunt, cold, and leaving no room for question. In her shock, she had only shakily nodded, watching him turn to leave the kitchens. She eyed the paper, how worn it was, how old it looked, as she carefully picked it up. The paper was waxy and delicate, and she half worried it might disintegrate in her hands.
She feels the weight of it burn her side where she has tucked it against the belt under the dress as she watches the Chief Councillor step into a carriage from over your shoulder. She longs to know what is written in it, but she has been trained all her life in the art of restraint. It is not her place to look, and she was trusted by one of the most important people in this castle with it. She will not break her word.
In all her years of experience, Eunhee has never gone through a war.
In some ways, nothing changes. She wakes up at the same time every morning. Her empty bed doesn’t bother her, since even before leaving, Soonyoung was always on duty at the time she woke up anyway. She makes her way to your chambers, wakes you and dresses you. She brews your tea, peels your fruit. Lord Jeon enters your chambers when the sun is higher in the sky, announcing events for the day. You leave, and Eunhee busies herself in cleaning and laundering.
There’s differences, of course. You being the most glaring one of all.
You worry yourself to the point of frequent sickness. It becomes harder and harder to wake you up in the morning, and you whine petulantly, almost like a child, at the notion of getting up. You are foggy and unfocused when Lord Jeon talks. You barely eat any of the fruit you would usually devour, instead just asking for stronger and stronger tea every morning.
The only time you are present is during Court. That’s where you come alive, and Eunhee suspects it’s because you know the pressure to keep morale high is upon your shoulders only. The Queen Dowager has not been involved since the late King’s death, and her son had left weeks ago. You are the only Royal holding up the staff and the church, and it’s a responsibility you take very seriously. It lifts Eunhee’s spirits as well, watching them all gravitate more and more towards you, placing more weight on your words and your decisions. Any news from the frontlines comes straight to you, and you deal with it wonderfully. You censor what needs censoring, twist what needs twisting in order to keep spirits up and hope intact. Lord Jeon is impressed, and it makes him more enthusiastic. Every message with your sign off that reaches the commonfolk is met now with hope and support.
It’s a welcome change.
But you are slipping, Eunhee can see, when the chamber doors shut in the evening and you are left alone with her. You weep every day when there are no personal letters from Seungcheol, or any indication of his wellbeing. Eunhee has heard from Soonyoung once only, and that was a few weeks ago, but you have not heard a word from Seungcheol at all, and she knows it is only making your anxiety worse.
But there’s something else, and Eunhee is starting to realise that the changes within you have maybe more to them than originally thought.
She knows she is not an expert, but the signs are there. The unexplainable fatigue, the nausea, and constantly sour mood. The only one who can confirm it is the older women in the castle or a court physician. But she wouldn’t dare breathe a word about this to anyone. Because if her suspicions are correct, the news could be disastrous….
The letter weighs heavily against her side, like a hidden dagger ready to cut. She wonders if you deserve to know the contents now, if you are really carrying Seungcheol’s blood within you. Must she wait for the horrible possibility of the Knight dying? Why was Jeonghan insistent on the letter being opened only in such a dire circumstance? What difference will be made on the information inside by the Knight’s life or his death?
Three months into the war, Eunhee receives her first ever letter from her husband. She is overjoyed when she reads his familiar, untidy scrawl. She doesn’t even mind how much of a struggle it is to decipher some of the words. It only endears her, sets her heart at ease. Tucked inside the letter is another one, folded smaller and tighter, and the scrawl on it reads as a much neater, loopier handwriting.
“This is the only way I could get a letter to Her Majesty without anyone knowing”
Eunhee rushes to you with the letter tucked under the collar of her dress. She watches your face light up when she tells you about it, your hands shaking as you unfold it. You read over each word hungrily, your cheeks flushing pinker towards the end, tears gathering in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbles. But this time, your crying is not filled with distress, but rather, relief. Eunhee knows then, that she must do something about her suspicions. Somehow, she must confirm them. If you are truly with child, with Seungcheol’s child, then you must be made aware of it.
She finds a midwife and describes all your symptoms as her own. The midwife is thrilled to congratulate her, and so Eunhee knows for certain.
……………………………
‘The nights here are long and cold, but every second my heart beats with the hope of returning to the warmth of your arms.’
Seungcheol’s grip on the quill tightens when he hears the fluttering of the thick canvas cloth of his tent. He snatches the parchment as he turns, trying to discreetly stuff it into his sleeve. He relaxes when Jeonghan’s lithe frame catches his eye. He huffs and smooths the parchment out, turning back to it.
“Writing to Her Majesty?”
He doesn’t answer, turning the letter over so Jeonghan won’t see what he has written. His friend chuckles and flops down on the bag Seungcheol has been sleeping on for many months now. He winces at how stiff it is, pursing his lips.
“How’s the shoulder?” He asks.
Seungcheol shrugs, but even that movement causes his left side to twinge slightly in pain. The wound has healed as much as it possibly can with the available medical care. It has left an ugly scar running diagonally over his collarbone and left shoulder, but it does not hinder his movements, and that is all that matters.
“It’s fine. Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol mumbles. It is a surprise, since Jeonghan is supposed to be present in an encampment some ten kilometers back, the same one that the King resides in. He’s not assigned to the frontlines, because he’s not a fighter. He is to stay with the King and the war generals and solidify plans, communicating any changes with Seungcheol’s brigade as needed.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
Seungcheol places his quill down carefully. It is the only one he has, so he can’t afford to lose it. He gives his friend his full attention.
“Yesterday, His Majesty suggested a widespread attack on the eastern front.”
Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “What?”
“He won’t say it, but I can tell he has grown weary of being here. He wants to wrap it up-”
“That’s a bad idea, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol’s voice hardens. “We aren’t ready for that. We don’t have the manpower, or the weapons.”
“I know that-”
“Then get it through his head too.” He snaps. “He has already made foolish decisions. I’m not letting any more of my men die.”
Jeonghan sighs, not bothered by the borderline disrespect in Seungcheol’s tone. It has been months of back and forth between the King and his fiercest Garrison Commander. Seungcheol is fed up with his reckless antics and inability to take advice. Every day, his frustration builds, because the King refuses to coordinate with Mingyu, still personally affronted by what happened long ago at Mingyu’s coronation.
“His petulance will cost us this war.” He mumbles, jaw clenched. “I will not let a man who has never so much as received a paper cut dictate how I command the lives of my men who bleed on enemy swords every day.”
Jeonghan watches him, half weary. “He wants to see you.”
That makes Seungcheol scowl. “Why?”
“Because you keep disobeying his direct orders, and he is furious.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “That’s why you’re here.”
Jeonghan nods.
Seungcheol is tired, but more importantly, he is irritated and angry. He understands hierarchy and respect for the Crown. Hell, he has preserved its integrity his whole life. But war is a special circumstance, and when soldiers’ lives are on the line, he cannot justify making reckless decisions on personal whims. As he barks instructions at Joshua, his second in command, and prepares to depart his post to see the King, he is already sure that he will cross the line of disrespect if the King tries to impose his selfish orders. He’s not sure he cares.
“If you continue on this trajectory, you will get dishonorably discharged the second we get back.” Jeonghan jokes. It only makes Seungcheol scoff.
“He can’t get rid of me.”
Jeonghan only smirks, because he knows it’s true. If this war has done one thing, it has cemented the fact that Choi Seungcheol is indispensable. He is their only chance at victory, and that word has gone back to the mainland as well. Unbeknownst to those at the borders, Jeonghan’s intel has shared clearly that Seungcheol will emerge from this war as a studded hero and nothing less. His already massive popularity has only risen in the months he has kept their forces solidified on the border.
In circumstances like this, even a monarch can be rendered powerless.
The King’s encampment is repulsive to Seungcheol. Grand in a way that is inappropriate for the battlefront, and he wonders how much of their limited resources go into maintaining it every day, resources that should be used to benefit their troops. Seungcheol’s armor clinks as he moves. He has loosened it slightly, but not taken it off entirely. Months of being at war has left him on edge and paranoid.
None of his alertness can be reflected in the man on the makeshift throne, and not in his many generals surrounding a large table map of their borders. They are all relaxed in a way Seungcheol has not seen in months, almost as if war has never happened. It’s a sharp contrast that almost stuns him. The men are old, near withered, but some of them Seungcheol recognises as his predecessors, decorated soldiers whose input he respects. He understands the need for them, and he holds their orders in the highest regard. It’s just that he does not trust a boy who has not stepped foot out of his sheltered castle walls unless it is to be serenaded by his people.
Every day, he is disdainful that you are married to this man. But no matter. You are his in every way that counts.
Seojoon sits on his Throne, looking particularly disinterested as Seungcheol greets him and bows. He has barely lifted his knee off the ground before the man is speaking.
“The fact that I had to call you all the way here just to straighten you out is irritating.” His voice is grating. “But you are here now. And I want to know what gives you the right to refuse any of my explicit orders.”
Seungcheol takes a deep breath before answering, already put off by the tone. “Attacking the eastern border right now would be catastrophic for our men. We are in no position to land a successful strike.”
The King rolls his eyes with an ugly curl of his lip. “This is getting on my nerves.”
Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek and says nothing. His eyes meet Jeonghan’s, who stands to the side, but the man only makes a weary face. There’s no reasoning with the King. He killed his own father for the Throne, everyone in this room knows that. Expecting loyalty and consideration from him is folly.
“May I interject, Your Majesty.” One of the men in the room pipes up, drawing attention. Seungcheol recognises him as one of the senior members of the war committee. “If His Majesty King Mingyu’s troops were to rendezvous with us along the north, we might be able to launch a full scale attack that can be effective.”
Seungcheol frowns, contemplating. It’s true. While still not entirely wise, it is the current best option they have-
“How long will that take?” Seojoon asks.
The man hesitates. “Two weeks, at minimum.”
The King scowls again. “That is too long. We attack tomorrow at dawn.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps towards the man, jaw dropped. Jeonghan looks just as alarmed, and unrest spreads in the room as whispers. Seungcheol rises to his feet.
“Your Majesty-”
“I won’t hear any of your nonsense, Seungcheol.” He snaps. “It has been over four months. If I had known if would take this long-”
Seungcheol wants to interject again, to yell at the man that war takes years, and four months is nothing in comparison. But Seojoon is already standing and walking to the table, using his fist to rap on the wood as a judge would in finality.
Seungcheol walks to the table as well, standing next to the King. He glares at him, but for the first time, Seungcheol glares right back. He stands a few inches taller than the man, and it makes him feel a small sense of power.
“If we attack now, we will lose any ground we hold. They will retaliate, and I don’t have enough men to ensure anyone’s safety when that happens. Including yours.”
It’s almost like the whole room collectively holds their breath, watching the two men stare each other down. Seojoon’s eyes darken in indignation, the exact same color as Seungcheol’s.
“You will do as I say.” He spits out. “And you will not question me.”
Movement behind the King makes Seungcheol’s eyes shift. Jeonghan, standing farther off, shakes his head perceptibly, as if telling Seungcheol to stay quiet. So he stiffens his jaw and nods, even if every fibre of his being wants to do otherwise.
As he leaves the large encampment, his blood boils. He thinks of the incomplete letter under his blanket, and he knows any feeling he has poured into it might be in vain. He won’t be able to send it to you. He doesn’t even know if he will be alive at this time tomorrow.
Sometimes, the egos of the rulers result in tragic consequences, and Seungcheol is unsure if there is anything he can do to prevent them.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.5k
warnings (for this chapter): some fluff, angst, mentions of political talks, alliances, mentions of war the the battleground, some suggestive content but not very explicit, mentions of childbearing, death, bloodshed and injuries.
series masterlist
It is when winter starts bleeding into spring that things take a turn for the worst. Both within the castle walls and outside.
It is very easy to keep up appearances. Ever since the demise of the late King, and the subsequent takeover from your husband, everything became about optics very quickly. The reason for this shift was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes. War loomed near, and the new King’s behavior indicated much more nefarious reasons for the death of an old, beloved monarch. But no one dared question, no one dared protest. Because he is the sole heir, the only one of his bloodline left, and until you are to bear a child for this family, none can question his authority unless they want the Crown to fall.
And so his behavior is excused. Jeonghan, the Court’s Chief Councillor, struggles day in and day out to keep up appearances, both inside and outside the castle. In your opinion, there is no managing the unmanageable, but you must laud Jeonghan for his tireless efforts to do so. You know that your husband is a disdainful, disgusting man, with a brain still devoid of maturity and diplomatic manners. No one holds more contempt for him than yourself, but at the end of the day, you are his wife, the Queen Consort, and you must do what you can to compensate for his incompetence.
Your step-up, born mostly from necessity, ends up going very largely in your favor.
When you hold Court, it is in high spirits and with enthusiastic participation, despite the dread and gloom that comes with the threat of war. Something about your blood relation to His Majesty Kim Mingyu seems to solidify everyone’s allyship to his Kingdom, which you know your brother is endlessly thankful for, if his letters are anything to go by. Public opinion and support is crucial in times like this, and your presence, once an afterthought and a dismissed annoyance, now inspires. Church clergy love you for your respect of their authority, castle staff reveres you except the few who serve the King as his mistresses, and Noblewomen who once sneered at you for not bearing a child now seem a bit more warm to you. They still want an heir, since that is considered your primary duty, but in conditions where everything else seems bleak, you know everyone finds your strong command on your Court refreshing.
Lord Jeon is positively aglow by your favorable reputation.
“I have known of you long, Your Majesty.” He muses. “But never was I made aware of your intellectual prowess. Was Her Majesty trained in the arts of the Courts as a child?”
You giggle and shake your head. “Not formally. But my brother made sure I learned.”
This explanation worked two fold. Direct tutelage under a reigning King helped solidify your authority, and it also established Mingyu’s credibility among your subjects.
Another reason people are warming up to you now is the glaring absence of your mother in law’s constant barrage of veiled insults towards you. The Queen Dowager, your mother in law, has her own staff, of course, but she keeps herself far removed from castle happenings these days. Ever since the late King’s death, she has become somewhat of a recluse, a surprising change that you didn’t expect from a woman who famously cared only of her relationship with her husband enough to bear him a child, and no more. You are endlessly puzzled by her withdrawal, staying exclusively with her ladies-in-waiting and entertaining no other audience, not even her Court. Well beloved among the castle staff, this has caused a great rift between the ruling King and the previous Crown. It agitates your husband that his own mother is unsupportive of his authority, which pleases you to no end, but you know it also weighs like a heavy burden on Jeonghan.
“I know it will be difficult, but I come to you with this request.” He says to you one night when Seungcheol brings him to your chambers. You are shocked to see him there, but you know it must be important if he is breaking formality like this. “Please ask the Queen Mother to attend the King’s Court. Only the King’s Court, and no other obligation. Despite your strongest efforts, Your Majesty, approval among noblemen for the new King is not faring well.”
You huff and nod from where you sit in your armchair, even if you deeply resent the idea of asking anything of that woman. You will do it for Jeonghan, because he has always been nothing but kind to you, and you will do it because Seungcheol himself brought the man to your door. Your honor refuses to turn down his request.
When Jeonghan leaves, Seungcheol remains, as he always does these nights. You smile and place your tea cup down, eyes fluttering when he places his lips on the crown of your head from behind you where you sit, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Incredible of Jeonghan to come and see me with this request.” You muse, watching the fireplace. Your Knight hums, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, kneading them softly. You sigh and relax.
“You are popular these days, my love.”
You smile, letting him work on the knots in your shoulder. Then, he says words you have come to despise.
“I must leave early today.”
You look up, watching his face upside down where he stands behind your chair. “Why so?”
“Meetings.” He looks apologetic. “Intelligence tells us that troops will be moving when the winter snow melts soon. We have to be prepared.”
You huff, rolling your eyes. Seungcheol’s workload has exponentially increased ever since war has become a real concern. Some nights, he stays for hours, some, not long at all.
“How long before they expect you?” You ask.
Seungcheol ponders. “Fifteen minutes?”
You turn in your chair, disengaging with his hands to look up at him with a half lidded gaze.
“Make the most of them then, Sir Choi.”
And he does, disrobing you in record time, pressing your front into the sheets of your bed and pushing into you from behind with just his slacks tugged down enough to set himself free. It is quick, messy and sizzling hot, his fingers tangled in your hair, your sounds muffled in the cloth you are lying on as he pounds you just the way he has learned you like the most, the pace that carries you to your end the fastest. He fills you up with his seed, warmth bathing your insides, and his lips feverishly running over your neck as he groans and curses, whispering into your ear how much he loves you. He doesn’t pull out until he’s sure your body is melting into the mattress, leaving you pliant and buzzing comfortably. He never compromises in cleaning you up afterwards and making sure you are cozy. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he leaves, your nude body tucked into bed, lips tingling from the force of his kisses, and his own jacket not even an inch out of place, but the taste of your still lingering in his mouth.
You’ve both become good at enjoying your rendezvous to the fullest.
When your steward comes to you the next morning to go over your agenda for the day, you interrupt him before he can begin and tell him about Jeonghan’s unexpected visit.
Wonwoo ponders and nods, scribbling something on the parchment.
“I will arrange for a meeting. Maybe over tea. I will let you know when I have something, Your Majesty.”
One thing about Wonwoo is that he is efficient, because that very evening, you are approved for an audience with the Queen Dowager and seated in her parlor while her handmaids serve you tea and cakes. Once your plate is made, and so is hers, she dismisses the handmaids, and they quietly scuttle out of the room.
“Why have you come?” She asks, twisting her wrist to swirl the tea in her cup. She stares intently at it instead of you. Her voice is muted, unlike the booming timbre she has always had in the many years she has ruled this castle. You hesitate and take a deep breath.
“I’ve come with a humble request, Queen Mother.” You begin.
“Oh?” She still does not look at you. “And what is it?”
Again, you pause. You don’t know how to phrase it without offending her sensibilities.
“Things have been much different since His Majesty’s most tragic passing.” You say. “Your Majesty has not graced us with her presence as often as we would have liked.”
To your shock, she laughs. A single, sharp sound that hits your ear more like a scoff than actual humor.
“You would not like it, I’m sure.”
You shake your head. “I certainly would.”
“Do not lie to me, girl.”
Girl. You grit your teeth. You do not like this form of dismissive address.
“Your son, then.” You concede. “His Majesty would like your presence to be more apparent.”
You watch her lips curl, an ugly sneer overtaking them. She swirls the cup quicker, the liquid dangerously close to the lip, almost spilling. Her eyes are still on it, but far away. She seems to pay no attention to what she is doing.
“My son.” She murmurs. “My son. He cares naught for my presence. My son. His father’s murderer.”
You gasp, shocked. “Your Majesty-”
“I have been a fool for many years.” She keeps going, stare distant. It is almost as if she doesn’t even care that you are there. “Dismissed and discarded because I hold no value. Overshadowed by harlots and concubines, unending women who did for my husband only that which I was supposed to.”
Your throat tightens. You watch, frozen still, as she spills feelings you have held in the deepest chambers of your heart your entire married life.
“Until Seojoon. Until his birth, I was nothing. After his birth, I was…..” Her hand pauses. The tea in her cup goes stationary. “I was mother to the Heir Apparent. I bore a son for the Crown, and so I had value. Endless value that none of his other women had. One of them bore him a daughter. Another one bore him a son. But I had a son first. And mine was legitimate. Unlike those second-hand scum.”
“Seojoon was perfect in my eyes, because he was mine. He came from me, from my blood and my womb, and not from the despicable four walls that I lived in. He was without fault. Pure. He could do no wrong because I bore him. The Heir to the Throne. His only legitimate child. The future of our Kingdom. A ruler. Smart. Handsome.”
Her face twists again. Hardens. “A conspirator. Liar. Killer.”
Her voice shakes. You don’t dare move an inch. Silence descends on you both, heavy and potent. You watch her closely as she takes in a shaky breath, her chest rising with it. Her skin is deeply wrinkled, and she looks like she has aged years in the span of mere months.
“Will you do the same thing?” She says, quieter this time. “Bear his child and believe it to be pure until the day he proves otherwise?”
Your teeth grit. “I will never bear his child.”
Her eyes finally turn to you, focusing for the first time since your arrival. She looks at you directly, something she has never done for such a long stretch of time. You do everything in your power to not flinch, to not blink.
“Right.” She whispers. “You will bear that Knight’s instead.”
Your blood runs cold. You stare, unmoving, at the woman as she finally sips her tea. She swallows and then sighs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
“No matter. It will be an heir, in any case.”
Your lips part, caught between shock and confusion, your hands balled into fists. You struggle to string words together, to say something, anything, to question what she has just stated. But before you can, she reaches for the tiny bell on her table, shaking it. Thin, trilling sound fills the space, and seconds later, her handmaids step in.
“I’ve heard your request.” She says, finally. “You may leave.”
You don’t protest.
The walk back to your chambers is numb. You can barely remember the journey, nor do you pay much heed to Wonwoo as he rattles on about what you must do next. When you reach your door, Soonyoung pulls it open, and you raise a hand up to make your steward stop talking.
“I feel unwell.” You mumble. “I will be retiring for the day.”
He blinks, concern flitting over his features. “Shall I summon a doctor, Your Majesty?”
You shake your head. “I just wish to lay down. You’re dismissed, Wonwoo.”
He bows, nodding. He looks unconvinced, but takes you for your word. As he turns to leave, Soonyoung looks carefully at you.
“Shall I send for Sir Choi?” He asked in a low voice. You give him a grateful smile and shake your head again.
“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Thank you.” Your voice sounds hollow. You say nothing more, closing the door behind you after entering your room.
The silence is suffocating, but it is your only friend right now. In the quiet air, you recall the interaction that left you this way.
She knew.
You don’t know if, in hindsight, it was naïveté that convinced you of your secret being safe. Soonyoung and Eunhee know, but Seungcheol swore up and down Soonyoung would never tell, and you know for certain Eunhee is trustworthy. The circle of the knowing is iron clad. The Queen Mother finding out feels near impossible, yet she did.
Then again, there are the rumors. Everyone in the castle is famously aware of your disdain for your husband. You make no secret of it. The Queen Mother knows you will never lie with him, and if she knows, her ladies know, which means everyone knows. Loose-lipped, all of them. They do not care for keeping secrets. Rumors of you and Seungcheol have existed since the day he was declared your Champion. It just so happens that now, those rumors are true. That being said, the Queen Mother could just be operating on those old rumors. She has no proof that they are not rumors anymore.
You sit shakily on your armchair, trying to relax into it like you always do, but failing. Your corset digs painfully into your back, and this time, you feel it acutely. Her voice rings in your ear, and the second, more dreadful part of her address floats through your short term memory.
It will be an heir, in any case.
Your heartbeat speeds up, mind reeling with implications. She could not have meant what you thought she did. What did she mean by ‘in any case’? No child born of Seungcheol can be an heir. It can’t….
You stare into the fire, the flames that dance back and forth, and you remember a time far back when your Knight kneeled by your legs as you stared into the same fireplace, when your own heart was breaking at the seams because of the Queen Mother’s words. He told you then, of his own mother, a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, and how so many in the circle were the King’s mistresses. Could it be that Seungcheol’s own mother….?
No.
You do not dare entertain that idea. You do not dare. Because that would mean Seungcheol is-
Bile rises to your throat at an alarming speed. You barely make it to your basin before you heave, brown liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the ceramic. Your mind spins. You heave again, guts twisting. Tears fill your eyes.
Seungcheol could be your husband’s half brother.
You grip the edge of the basin tight and sink down, curling on yourself against the stone floor to take deep breaths. You can’t think like this. You can’t. This is a wild assumption. Shame fills your head at the very thought, but that look on your mother in law’s face haunts you, blank but sharp, like she knows something you don’t. Something sick curls in your chest again, and you fight to swallow it down.
You jump when hands meet your arms, head jerking up. You blink sharply, the world coming into focus again, sounds clearing.
“Your Majesty?”
Slanted, wide eyes meet yours, alarmed and hesitant. You sway a little as you stand, but Soonyoung’s hold on you is strong, and he keeps you in place.
“Are you okay?”
You are not, very clearly, but his question makes your face crumple. Thick tears spill down your cheeks. You sniffle.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Soonyoung. I don’t know why my life is like this.”
Soonyoung looks almost scared, like a fish out of water as he tries to think of what to say. You pay him no heed, your head still spinning and the sickness in your chest so acute that you want to vomit again. You cough and sway, unsteady where you lean against the basin again. Soonyoung’s grip on your arms tightens.
“Let’s start simple then, okay? Let’s go lie down first.”
You only nod blankly, letting the guard slowly guide you out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You lie down, despite the difficulty your attire gives you, and stare blankly at the far wall.
“I will send for a doctor, Your Majesty.” Soonyoung says. You immediately shake your head.
“No doctor. Only Eunhee.”
He hesitates. “You are terribly ill. Please allow me to call a healer.”
You refuse again. “I just need some strong tea. I’m just….. overwhelmed.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue anymore. He leaves the room, and you don’t move for fear of hurling again. You close your burning eyes, trying to undo some of the notions you have created in your head. You cannot think like this, because they are all baseless. You have no proof. One sentence out of the Queen Mother’s mouth is not confirmation. You are building immense assumptions and they are leaving you half mad.
Eunhee’s hands are cool on your skin, and it makes your eyes pop open when you feel them on your forehead. Her face is scrunched in concern as she looks you over. Behind her, Soonyoung stands a few paces away, wringing his hands nervously.
“Should I call a doctor?” He asks his wife. You make a face.
“I told you, Soonyoung. No doctor.”
He stiffens and bows his head in apology. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
Eunhee looks hesitant. She kneels by your bedside, her head level with you. “Should we send for Sir Choi?”
You ponder, going over your current mental state, and you realise you cannot face Seungcheol like this. He will want to know what caused it, what was said to you, and he is stubborn enough to pursue it until he can find out the exact reason, with the intention of eliminating anything that caused you distress. You can’t tell him this. Not yet, at least. So you shake your head, something that surprises both Eunhee and Soonyoung, but they accept your decision.
The rest of the night is subdued. Eunhee brews a calming cup of tea and squeezes a lemon into it. It settles the queasiness in your stomach, and she quickly helps you change into more comfortable clothes. You don’t speak much, lost in your head instead. When the embers in the fireplace finally start dying down, in the dead of the night, you conclude that you had certainly overreacted.
It was ludicrous to even insinuate that Seungcheol might be Royal blood. He is a Knight, a very popular one at that. If this was true, someone out there would have definitely said something. And so you vow to yourself to dismiss this idea completely. The coming morning will be fresh and new, and you can put this horrible night behind you.
The next morning comes, but not the way you imagined.
You are woken by Eunhee shaking you urgently. For a split second, you fear you have overslept, which is why your handmaid is waking you. But one look at the window tells you that the sky is still mostly dim, and Eunhee is here way ahead of time. One look at her face has you freezing, pale, near sickly, and overcome with panic.
“What is it?” You ask her, voice still hoarse with sleep as you sit up, trying to clear your heavy eyes. Your brain is barely awake.
“It is beginning.” She says. “Troops are readying themselves. A herald from your brother’s kingdom arrived an hour ago. The Guard is moving out.”
Your veins freeze. Breath traps itself in your throat. You push your sheets off, your bare feet hitting the stone floor. Eunhee looks disheveled, almost. She is panting, and you realise she ran all the way here. You look at your chamber doors. Slightly ajar. There is no movement outside, but you can hear shouts, neighs and hoofbeats through your windows. Sounds of clinking metal and leather boots hitting the ground accompany them. You look at Eunhee again.
“Soonyoung too?” You ask. She nods.
Your heart squeezes for the woman. You cannot imagine what it must be like for her to watch her husband leave for a war from which he may never return. Well, you can, and your intake of breath is sharp.
“Seungcheol?” Your voice trembles.
Eunhee looks pained. “He is about to leave too. He’s in the stables. Their journey will be long, so they must set off immediately.”
Your heart fills with unimaginable dread. You push off the bed, sliding your bare feet into slippers.
“Get my cloak, Eunhee.”
Your handmaid blinks, shocked. “Your Majesty, you cannot-”
“Did you say farewell to Soonyoung?” You ask sharply.
She hesitates, then nods.
“Would you be okay with me not getting that chance?”
Her face slumps, resigned. She does not say more, rushing to your wardrobe and pulling out a heavy, black cloak to cover your barely clad body. She gives you one more look, and quietly, you both slip out from your chambers.
It is barely sunrise, which means no castle staff, noblemen or maids linger. The stone hallways are empty, lit by torches on either side that guide your way. Eunhee seems to know exactly where she is going. She is quick footed and quiet, and you follow her lead. Many descending stairs take you down narrow corridors you have never walked before, and finally, Eunhee stops in front of a large, brown gate. On the other side, you can hear shouting. Through the narrow slits in the wooden slates, you can barely make out movement nearing levels of commotion. Eunhee looks around and paces back, pulling open a smaller door in the wall of the corridor.
“Your Majesty, my apologies, but you will have to wait here while I get to Sir Choi.” She says. “I cannot take you in there with me.”
You understand, nodding and stepping into what appears to be a broom closet. It is small and dusty, and you hike up your cloak slightly to prevent it from dirtying as Eunhee shuts the door behind you. It is pitch black inside, blinking makes no difference, and you muffle a cough as the stale air of the space stings your nose. You wait, your ears on high alert, your heart pounding.
When the large door made of wooden slabs creaks, voices fill the corridor outside. You stare, unwatching. Finally, your door is pulled open slightly. You blink at the onslaught of light. Eunhee’s face comes into focus. She steps aside.
Seungcheol is standing behind her, face pulled taut in alarm. He is clad head to toe in metal plates, encasing every part of his body for protection. His sword hangs by the side of his hip. Even beneath the heavy armor, you can see his posture stiffen when he sees you. You speak before he can.
“I had to see you.” You plead with your eyes, already gathering unshed tears between your lids. “I couldn’t let you leave like this.”
Seungcheol sighs heavily, walking closer to you. “Someone could see.”
You shake your head. “I don’t care.”
His eyes dart over your face, like he’s trying to memorise it. You can’t help but reach up, a shaky hand meeting his cheek. His eyelids flutter under your touch. You don’t heed the fact that Eunhee is standing right there, and so is Soonyoung, a few paces behind you and your Knight.
“Forgive me, my Queen.” Seungcheol whispers. “Leaving you like this might be my biggest sin.”
You shake your head, trying to give him a placating smile. “As long as you come back to me, I will forgive you.”
He takes one more step forward, a tiny shuffle that allows him to bow his head. His hair brushes over your face. Your breath hitches. You close the distance, lips landing on his in a searing kiss. His leather covered hands meet your waist under your heavy cloak, scrunching the material of your thin nightdress between his fingers. His touch feels like fire, and your face crumples so much that you weep into his mouth, breaking the kiss.
“My love…” Seungcheol breathes, his unoccupied hand finding your cheek, wiping the wet tracks. “Please, your tears pain me.”
“Promise me you will come back.” You plead. “You’re all I have.”
Seungcheol’s eyebrows scrunch, his eyes are clouded with sorrow. He kisses your forehead, a harsh press of his lips that feels like he is trying to leave his heart there with you.
“Have I ever broken my oath to you before?” He whispers into your skin. “I have no intentions of starting now.”
You nod. He kisses you again, softer this time. Metal clinks behind him.
“Sir, we must go.” Soonyoung sounds hesitant but urgent.
Seungcheol breaks the kiss, looks you over once more. “Take care of yourself. For me.”
You nod, trying your best not to sob. You don’t want to worry him as he leaves. You take a deep breath, your limbs screaming when he pulls away. He quickly pulls up the cloak to cover you again, gives you a final smile. You watch him hungrily, taking him in. The prominent ridge of his thick eyebrows, the sharp slope of his nose, plump and pink lips, the jut of his jaw, perfect and unblemished pale skin. His hair, glorious locks of dark brown flowing past his face. When he turns, you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a single sight of him. The wooden door is pushed open. The two men slip through it, and it shuts heavily behind them.
Your strength breaks.
Eunhee barely has time to grip your shoulders as you slump, pulling the material of the cloak up to your mouth to muffle your sob into it. She pulls your body to hers so she can keep you upright. And she lets you cry. You feel so much in that moment. Grief, dread, confusion, so much pain.
Another feeling, panic, quickly joins all of these when a voice sounds behind you.
“Well, I’m not exactly surprised to find you here.”
You would recognise it anywhere. The sly tilt, soft and slightly jovial. Eunhee gasps and turns, pulling you with her. Jeonghan is standing a few feet behind both of you, weighed down by an open, brown cloak, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Between your sobs, you had not heard him come up so close, which is your fault. He looks almost amused. His eyes flit to Eunhee for a brief second, landing back on you. Your tear stained face, the circles under your eyes. He sighs and gestures before turning around to walk away. When neither of you move to follow, he speaks.
“Come on. Unless you would enjoy being caught.”
Eunhee spurs you forward, and you will your feet to muster up some strength. You shuffle a few paces behind Jeonghan. He is near silent, like a ghost, and even his clothes don’t make any noise as he walks. He leads you both up a rogue flight of stairs. Minutes later, he opens a door to what looks like a sitting room, shelves lining walls, floors draped with cozy rugs and sprawling sofas and armchairs. There is no fireplace, so the room is chilly, but your body is already very heated, so you don’t mind. You settle onto one end of a sofa, leaning against the arm support. Eunhee looks panicked, and Jeonghan seems to notice.
“Will you arrange for some tea, please? Two cups. Strong for Her Majesty.”
Eunhee nods, looking relieved to leave, and she quickly scampers out, leaving you alone with the man.
Jeonghan shrugs off his cloak, leaving him in a simple shirt and slacks. He drapes the cloak over the armchair across from you and settles on it, crossing one leg over the other. Then, he just watches you silently. You shift under his stare, eyeing the rich, maroon carpet.
“You have nothing to say to me, Chief Councillor?” Your voice is hoarse.
Jeonghan hums, tilting his head like he’s contemplating. “Maybe just to warn you that it was extremely reckless to say goodbye like that.”
You sigh. “No one saw us.”
“I did.”
“And will you do anything about it?” Your eyes shift up to meet his. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles.
“I haven’t done anything so far. Why would I start now?”
You lean back on the sofa, closing your eyes. You feel exhausted.
“How long have you known?”
Jeonghan’s foot sways a little, like he’s moving it to a tune in his head. “Long.”
You stare up at the ceiling. “It seems like everybody knows.”
He shrugs. “Suspicions only.”
“The Queen Mother said something about it.”
He waves a hand, as if in dismissal. “She loves gossip.”
“She said something else too.” You eye the man, trying to gauge his reaction. As always, his face is smooth as porcelain. He gives nothing away. “About Seungcheol.”
“Oh?” Jeonghan picks his nails.
“About his parentage.” You tack on.
His eyes flit up again then, and this time, they stay on you. “What are you implying, Your Majesty?”
You shrug. “I imply nothing. I merely ask if you know.”
“What am I supposed to have known?”
You huff, feeling irritation gnaw at you. “Must you always answer my question with a question?”
That makes him laugh, and it breaks the heavy, suffocating air a little. It lessens some of the weight on your chest, and you remember why you enjoy Jeonghan’s company so much.
“I am an advisor, my lady.” He says. “I deal with opinions and circumstances.”
“You are smarter than any man in this castle.” You goad. “You know more than anyone else. You knew about me and Sir Choi.”
“You two are not subtle.” He quips.
“The Knights who fought for my favor,” you continue on, “both were handpicked by the late King, on your advice.”
Jeonghan watches. There is intensity in his stare.
“Why did you recommend Sir Choi for the job, Chief Councillor?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever assumption you have in your head, Your Majesty, please banish it. Seungcheol’s parentage had nothing to do with it. I recommended him because he was the best man for the job. And because he was my friend.”
“So what do you know about his parentage?” You press.
The door opens and Eunhee shuffles in with a tray. You don’t break from Jeonghan’s stare for one second, don’t even flinch, as she serves both you and him.
“Thank you, Eunhee.” You mumble. “You may leave. You must be tired. Go rest.”
She blinks, hesitating.
“It’s fine.” You reassure her. “Jeonghan will escort me back to my chambers, won’t you?”
The corner of Jeonghan’s lip ticks up, amused at the fact that you addressed him by his first name in front of your handmaid. You don’t know why you do it. A show of authority? To get a reaction out of him? He doesn’t give you any.
“Of course.”
Eunhee nods in finality. She bows to both of you, and finally leaves.
You sip your tea in silence. Neither of you speaks, and you begin to realise that you are bone-tired. You were ill the night before, and you had a short, fitful sleep. Then, you were woken in a panic. The last twelve hours have been too intense for you. You do not know what to do with yourself. It also is clear to you that Jeonghan has no intention of giving you a straight answer. Once your cup is finished, you place it gently on the table next to the sofa.
“Jeonghan,” You whisper. “Please take me back.”
Jeonghan nods, placing his own cup down and standing up. He pulls his cloak on again and offers you his arm. You take it gratefully, and leave the room.
The sun is barely visible through the castle windows. The sky is still mostly dark, and the heavy beats of horses hitting the ground are distant. The troops are moving out, it seems. You try not to think about it.
“I’m tired.” You confess in a quiet voice. Jeonghan nods.
“Rest well. And banish all worry from your head, my lady. I promise you, when you need to know anything, I will tell you myself.”
That makes you turn your head. You look up at Jeonghan’s profile. He feels your eyes on him, looking back with a sheepish smile.
“To be honest, I have my doubts too.” He confesses.
Your heart pounds. When you reach your door, you let go of Jeonghan’s arm and turn to face him. “Is there any way to verify?”
He looks like he is contemplating. “Maybe.”
You watch him expectantly, but he doesn’t elaborate, so you continue. “Will you?”
Jeonghan tilts his head in that way he does when he’s thinking. “The question is, Your Majesty, do you really want to know?”
You frown. “Of course I do.”
“What will that accomplish?” He continues. “What will it do except anger Seungcheol about his mother and the late King?”
You pause, staring at the Councillor. He sighs and shrugs, reaching around you to open the heavy oak door of your chambers.
“Think about it, that’s all I ask.” He says finally, and you enter your room, closing the door quietly behind you.
………………………………
Kwon Eunhee has worked in the castle for as long as she has been alive.
Her earliest memory comes from an age she cannot even pinpoint, but she remembers the place very clearly. It was the Queen Dowager’s parlor, a place so grand that she can’t help but recall it even today. It was her first brush with royalty, the young woman who had just been wed to the newly crowned King. Eunhee remembers her mother gripping her hand tightly as she stood near the wall, having accompanied the noblewoman she served there. Her mother had been a handmaid as well, as these things ran in generations. Eunhee knew that was her future too, and that day had been the first taste of the life she would live going forward.
Her mother’s mistress was attending the Queen’s court that day, and had requested she be there to serve tea later. Eunhee was little, but old enough now to help somewhat, like an apprentice. So far, she hadn’t done any work, limited only to small lessons her mother taught her. How to serve tea, how to peel fruit with minimal waste, where to sit and where to stand when ordered.
“Everyone prefers it differently.” She would always say. “My mistress, for example, likes to eat apples with their skin still on. But I have heard that Her Majesty despises the skin.”
Eunhee just listens and watches, passively learning at even a young age. As a handmaid, she knows the significance of making yourself small. She must not draw attention, and any task she does has to be so smooth and discrete that no one even realises she is there. She is meant to be invisible. That’s the gist of it. For years, she learned this skill, honed it until she was one of the best in the castle.
Eunhee always assumed she would be assigned to another noblewoman when she was of age and ready to work full time like her mother. She never expected, in a million years, for her mistress to be the newly wedded Princess. Even her own mother had been shocked at the appointment, but dared not question Her Majesty the Queen. Eunhee had been nervous, because she still remembered her first brush with royalty in the Queen’s parlor all those years ago. The giggling, cackling ladies-in-waiting who could not stop pouring wine into their glasses, overindulging in grapes and alcohol until they were concerningly red in the face. Their gossip was salacious, entirely unwarranted and mean spirited. Eunhee had walked away, as a young girl, with the impression that the closer you were to royal status, the more artificial your soul became.
You were different, though.
From day one, Eunhee knew you had been wronged. Hoodwinked into accepting conditions you had never been warned of, thrown to the wolves without warning. She had seen the genuine heartbreak in your eyes as you came to terms with it, and Eunhee’s own distaste for the Queen only grew. It was an intense feeling, and despite being trained all her life to tamp herself down as much as possible, Eunhee couldn’t help the venom that curled in her heart when watching her young mistress fall apart.
“Never you mind, Eunhee.” Soonyoung would always say when she complained at night, going over the events of the day, trying to lighten her load by confessing to her husband. “Royals are all like this, and their business is none of ours. The more you get involved, the worse it will end for you. So just keep your head down.”
But Eunhee couldn’t, not when she went to wake you up every morning, only to see dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Not when she had to excessively powder the bags under your eyes to try and hide how tired you were. And especially not when she was summoned by the Queen, asking for personal details on if you have bedded your husband yet.
It boiled her blood.
In Eunhee’s eyes, your affair with your Knight is not wrong in any way. Eunhee has known Sir Choi since they were both children, though she was far removed from him. His mother was a lady-in-waiting until she left the castle on the Queen’s orders, sending her son to the Royal Guard when he was merely seven years old, in order to train. Before he was Sir Choi, he was merely Choi Seungcheol, the fierce young boy who fought like his life depended on it. Eunhee watched him grow up, and grew up with him, the same as her mother’s mistress’ son, Yoon Jeonghan, who is now Chief Councillor to the King. Growing up in the castle meant that Eunhee had known all of them for years, and so she can vouch for Sir Choi’s integrity completely.
When Soonyoung told her of what he heard inside your chambers, Eunhee was thrilled, and in the best way. No one deserves love more than you, and no one is a better option for that than the boy she had seen grow into a wonderful man.
She can feel your pain when the troops leave, because she feels that pain herself. She had been prepared for Soonyoung’s departure for a while now, mentally steeling herself as much as possible, and she knows you have been doing the same, but you fall apart worse than she does, and try as she might, Eunhee cannot pick up the pieces.
The morning after their troops march out, His Majesty the King follows with a grand procession. It’s unsuited for a situation as grim and dire as a war, but he has never possessed any sort of tact, so Eunhee is not surprised. You stand at the castle gates, dressed impeccably in the attire Eunhee had picked out for you, breathtakingly beautiful as always. But Eunhee can see the glaze over your eyes. She can see how distant your stare is, unfocused. Your mind is elsewhere entirely, she knows, least interested in watching your husband depart for the battleground in his mighty carriage. It is easy to read the atmosphere. The noblemen stand around with an air of disinterest that rivals yours, except theirs is much more apathetic. The Queen Dowager had not even bothered to show for the farewell. Eunhee suspects that no one cares for their King’s departure, not really.
She cannot remember the last time a monarch was so deeply hated.
Preparing to leave with His Majesty is Chief Councillor Yoon, who looks strangely out of place in his armor. He is not a fighter, but war calls for this attire, and so he dons it. Eunhee swallows tightly as she remembers the night before.
He had found her in the kitchens after escorting you back to your room. She had been surprised when he stopped across the large, wooden table from her, watching her closely for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small sheet of paper. It was slightly yellow and wilted along the edges, held shut by an untouched, maroon wax seal. He set it gently on the table, in the center, and stepped back.
“Give this to her if Seungcheol dies during battle.”
The sentence had knocked all air out of her chest. Blunt, cold, and leaving no room for question. In her shock, she had only shakily nodded, watching him turn to leave the kitchens. She eyed the paper, how worn it was, how old it looked, as she carefully picked it up. The paper was waxy and delicate, and she half worried it might disintegrate in her hands.
She feels the weight of it burn her side where she has tucked it against the belt under the dress as she watches the Chief Councillor step into a carriage from over your shoulder. She longs to know what is written in it, but she has been trained all her life in the art of restraint. It is not her place to look, and she was trusted by one of the most important people in this castle with it. She will not break her word.
In all her years of experience, Eunhee has never gone through a war.
In some ways, nothing changes. She wakes up at the same time every morning. Her empty bed doesn’t bother her, since even before leaving, Soonyoung was always on duty at the time she woke up anyway. She makes her way to your chambers, wakes you and dresses you. She brews your tea, peels your fruit. Lord Jeon enters your chambers when the sun is higher in the sky, announcing events for the day. You leave, and Eunhee busies herself in cleaning and laundering.
There’s differences, of course. You being the most glaring one of all.
You worry yourself to the point of frequent sickness. It becomes harder and harder to wake you up in the morning, and you whine petulantly, almost like a child, at the notion of getting up. You are foggy and unfocused when Lord Jeon talks. You barely eat any of the fruit you would usually devour, instead just asking for stronger and stronger tea every morning.
The only time you are present is during Court. That’s where you come alive, and Eunhee suspects it’s because you know the pressure to keep morale high is upon your shoulders only. The Queen Dowager has not been involved since the late King’s death, and her son had left weeks ago. You are the only Royal holding up the staff and the church, and it’s a responsibility you take very seriously. It lifts Eunhee’s spirits as well, watching them all gravitate more and more towards you, placing more weight on your words and your decisions. Any news from the frontlines comes straight to you, and you deal with it wonderfully. You censor what needs censoring, twist what needs twisting in order to keep spirits up and hope intact. Lord Jeon is impressed, and it makes him more enthusiastic. Every message with your sign off that reaches the commonfolk is met now with hope and support.
It’s a welcome change.
But you are slipping, Eunhee can see, when the chamber doors shut in the evening and you are left alone with her. You weep every day when there are no personal letters from Seungcheol, or any indication of his wellbeing. Eunhee has heard from Soonyoung once only, and that was a few weeks ago, but you have not heard a word from Seungcheol at all, and she knows it is only making your anxiety worse.
But there’s something else, and Eunhee is starting to realise that the changes within you have maybe more to them than originally thought.
She knows she is not an expert, but the signs are there. The unexplainable fatigue, the nausea, and constantly sour mood. The only one who can confirm it is the older women in the castle or a court physician. But she wouldn’t dare breathe a word about this to anyone. Because if her suspicions are correct, the news could be disastrous….
The letter weighs heavily against her side, like a hidden dagger ready to cut. She wonders if you deserve to know the contents now, if you are really carrying Seungcheol’s blood within you. Must she wait for the horrible possibility of the Knight dying? Why was Jeonghan insistent on the letter being opened only in such a dire circumstance? What difference will be made on the information inside by the Knight’s life or his death?
Three months into the war, Eunhee receives her first ever letter from her husband. She is overjoyed when she reads his familiar, untidy scrawl. She doesn’t even mind how much of a struggle it is to decipher some of the words. It only endears her, sets her heart at ease. Tucked inside the letter is another one, folded smaller and tighter, and the scrawl on it reads as a much neater, loopier handwriting.
“This is the only way I could get a letter to Her Majesty without anyone knowing”
Eunhee rushes to you with the letter tucked under the collar of her dress. She watches your face light up when she tells you about it, your hands shaking as you unfold it. You read over each word hungrily, your cheeks flushing pinker towards the end, tears gathering in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbles. But this time, your crying is not filled with distress, but rather, relief. Eunhee knows then, that she must do something about her suspicions. Somehow, she must confirm them. If you are truly with child, with Seungcheol’s child, then you must be made aware of it.
She finds a midwife and describes all your symptoms as her own. The midwife is thrilled to congratulate her, and so Eunhee knows for certain.
……………………………
‘The nights here are long and cold, but every second my heart beats with the hope of returning to the warmth of your arms.’
Seungcheol’s grip on the quill tightens when he hears the fluttering of the thick canvas cloth of his tent. He snatches the parchment as he turns, trying to discreetly stuff it into his sleeve. He relaxes when Jeonghan’s lithe frame catches his eye. He huffs and smooths the parchment out, turning back to it.
“Writing to Her Majesty?”
He doesn’t answer, turning the letter over so Jeonghan won’t see what he has written. His friend chuckles and flops down on the bag Seungcheol has been sleeping on for many months now. He winces at how stiff it is, pursing his lips.
“How’s the shoulder?” He asks.
Seungcheol shrugs, but even that movement causes his left side to twinge slightly in pain. The wound has healed as much as it possibly can with the available medical care. It has left an ugly scar running diagonally over his collarbone and left shoulder, but it does not hinder his movements, and that is all that matters.
“It’s fine. Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol mumbles. It is a surprise, since Jeonghan is supposed to be present in an encampment some ten kilometers back, the same one that the King resides in. He’s not assigned to the frontlines, because he’s not a fighter. He is to stay with the King and the war generals and solidify plans, communicating any changes with Seungcheol’s brigade as needed.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
Seungcheol places his quill down carefully. It is the only one he has, so he can’t afford to lose it. He gives his friend his full attention.
“Yesterday, His Majesty suggested a widespread attack on the eastern front.”
Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “What?”
“He won’t say it, but I can tell he has grown weary of being here. He wants to wrap it up-”
“That’s a bad idea, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol’s voice hardens. “We aren’t ready for that. We don’t have the manpower, or the weapons.”
“I know that-”
“Then get it through his head too.” He snaps. “He has already made foolish decisions. I’m not letting any more of my men die.”
Jeonghan sighs, not bothered by the borderline disrespect in Seungcheol’s tone. It has been months of back and forth between the King and his fiercest Garrison Commander. Seungcheol is fed up with his reckless antics and inability to take advice. Every day, his frustration builds, because the King refuses to coordinate with Mingyu, still personally affronted by what happened long ago at Mingyu’s coronation.
“His petulance will cost us this war.” He mumbles, jaw clenched. “I will not let a man who has never so much as received a paper cut dictate how I command the lives of my men who bleed on enemy swords every day.”
Jeonghan watches him, half weary. “He wants to see you.”
That makes Seungcheol scowl. “Why?”
“Because you keep disobeying his direct orders, and he is furious.”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “That’s why you’re here.”
Jeonghan nods.
Seungcheol is tired, but more importantly, he is irritated and angry. He understands hierarchy and respect for the Crown. Hell, he has preserved its integrity his whole life. But war is a special circumstance, and when soldiers’ lives are on the line, he cannot justify making reckless decisions on personal whims. As he barks instructions at Joshua, his second in command, and prepares to depart his post to see the King, he is already sure that he will cross the line of disrespect if the King tries to impose his selfish orders. He’s not sure he cares.
“If you continue on this trajectory, you will get dishonorably discharged the second we get back.” Jeonghan jokes. It only makes Seungcheol scoff.
“He can’t get rid of me.”
Jeonghan only smirks, because he knows it’s true. If this war has done one thing, it has cemented the fact that Choi Seungcheol is indispensable. He is their only chance at victory, and that word has gone back to the mainland as well. Unbeknownst to those at the borders, Jeonghan’s intel has shared clearly that Seungcheol will emerge from this war as a studded hero and nothing less. His already massive popularity has only risen in the months he has kept their forces solidified on the border.
In circumstances like this, even a monarch can be rendered powerless.
The King’s encampment is repulsive to Seungcheol. Grand in a way that is inappropriate for the battlefront, and he wonders how much of their limited resources go into maintaining it every day, resources that should be used to benefit their troops. Seungcheol’s armor clinks as he moves. He has loosened it slightly, but not taken it off entirely. Months of being at war has left him on edge and paranoid.
None of his alertness can be reflected in the man on the makeshift throne, and not in his many generals surrounding a large table map of their borders. They are all relaxed in a way Seungcheol has not seen in months, almost as if war has never happened. It’s a sharp contrast that almost stuns him. The men are old, near withered, but some of them Seungcheol recognises as his predecessors, decorated soldiers whose input he respects. He understands the need for them, and he holds their orders in the highest regard. It’s just that he does not trust a boy who has not stepped foot out of his sheltered castle walls unless it is to be serenaded by his people.
Every day, he is disdainful that you are married to this man. But no matter. You are his in every way that counts.
Seojoon sits on his Throne, looking particularly disinterested as Seungcheol greets him and bows. He has barely lifted his knee off the ground before the man is speaking.
“The fact that I had to call you all the way here just to straighten you out is irritating.” His voice is grating. “But you are here now. And I want to know what gives you the right to refuse any of my explicit orders.”
Seungcheol takes a deep breath before answering, already put off by the tone. “Attacking the eastern border right now would be catastrophic for our men. We are in no position to land a successful strike.”
The King rolls his eyes with an ugly curl of his lip. “This is getting on my nerves.”
Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek and says nothing. His eyes meet Jeonghan’s, who stands to the side, but the man only makes a weary face. There’s no reasoning with the King. He killed his own father for the Throne, everyone in this room knows that. Expecting loyalty and consideration from him is folly.
“May I interject, Your Majesty.” One of the men in the room pipes up, drawing attention. Seungcheol recognises him as one of the senior members of the war committee. “If His Majesty King Mingyu’s troops were to rendezvous with us along the north, we might be able to launch a full scale attack that can be effective.”
Seungcheol frowns, contemplating. It’s true. While still not entirely wise, it is the current best option they have-
“How long will that take?” Seojoon asks.
The man hesitates. “Two weeks, at minimum.”
The King scowls again. “That is too long. We attack tomorrow at dawn.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps towards the man, jaw dropped. Jeonghan looks just as alarmed, and unrest spreads in the room as whispers. Seungcheol rises to his feet.
“Your Majesty-”
“I won’t hear any of your nonsense, Seungcheol.” He snaps. “It has been over four months. If I had known if would take this long-”
Seungcheol wants to interject again, to yell at the man that war takes years, and four months is nothing in comparison. But Seojoon is already standing and walking to the table, using his fist to rap on the wood as a judge would in finality.
Seungcheol walks to the table as well, standing next to the King. He glares at him, but for the first time, Seungcheol glares right back. He stands a few inches taller than the man, and it makes him feel a small sense of power.
“If we attack now, we will lose any ground we hold. They will retaliate, and I don’t have enough men to ensure anyone’s safety when that happens. Including yours.”
It’s almost like the whole room collectively holds their breath, watching the two men stare each other down. Seojoon’s eyes darken in indignation, the exact same color as Seungcheol’s.
“You will do as I say.” He spits out. “And you will not question me.”
Movement behind the King makes Seungcheol’s eyes shift. Jeonghan, standing farther off, shakes his head perceptibly, as if telling Seungcheol to stay quiet. So he stiffens his jaw and nods, even if every fibre of his being wants to do otherwise.
As he leaves the large encampment, his blood boils. He thinks of the incomplete letter under his blanket, and he knows any feeling he has poured into it might be in vain. He won’t be able to send it to you. He doesn’t even know if he will be alive at this time tomorrow.
Sometimes, the egos of the rulers result in tragic consequences, and Seungcheol is unsure if there is anything he can do to prevent them.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 8.5k
warnings (for this chapter): mild angst, some historical inaccuracy, mentions of death and conspiracy, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, mentions of war, forbidden love.
series masterlist
The bells begin ringing at sunrise.
They are not celebratory. They are muted and grave, signalling mourning. The air is cold, nearly nipping. Winter has fallen suddenly over the country in the last few weeks, and it brings with it an unnerving chill that settles in your bones.
You sit in front of your fireplace, watching the flames dance in it. It’s very early. Eunhee isn’t here. Yet you are awake, still in your night clothes, imagining how the cathedral might look like right now in the bleak winter morning under the gray, cloudy sky.
It is the day of your husband’s coronation.
Seungcheol told you last night about how rushed preparations have been, and how muted the ceremony will be. Black cloth draped over the cathedral doors, noblemen in furs of muted colors, hushed whispers as everyone mourns. The Prince, dressed in a cloak hastily fitted to him, the archbishop, who will conduct the ceremony in quick, sharp sentences. Nothing grand, nothing ceremonial, out of respect for their late King and his untimely demise.
You can imagine it all in your head. That is all you can do, since you will not be there physically.
You have always known you are a controversial figure within the walls of this castle, and you have never minded this fact. You do not care. Your controversy was your weapon to protect yourself from endless hurt. So it came to you as no surprise when Seungcheol told you that you would either be placed far back in the cathedral, or you would not be physically present for the ceremony at all. You had then said you would like to be left out. Rather that than sitting away from everyone like discarded jewelry. So here you are, in your chambers, awaiting Eunhee.
Over the last week, seamstresses have worked tirelessly to prepare your new attire. Grander, deeper colors, heavier cloth, what would fit a Queen Consort. You would not be officially crowned, since circumstances are so dire, but the statement is clear. You are now the ruling Queen, while your mother in law remains so only in name, no longer reigning. She has done nothing but weep and mourn her husband’s death, a true spectacle considering she never cared for him. But she did care for her place as the reigning Queen, and you know that is driving her grief more than the King’s death.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.
The castle is restless, on edge. It has been since the King’s death. Suspicions are high, towards the court councillors and towards the Prince, now King. For a man with no health concerns suddenly being afflicted by humors of the brain and meeting with Death is a pill difficult to swallow, and that leaves everyone questioning. No one dared speak it in open air though, since war is imminent and no matter what, a new King is needed. All mouths remain shut, but eyes shift. They gleam with mistrust.
Seungcheol still suspects your husband, almost explicitly so. He stays by your side as much as Royal duty and war preparation allows him. When he is not there, someone else always is. Someone he trusts. Often, it is Soonyoung, Eunhee’s husband, who stays outside your door on Seungcheol’s strict instructions. But others from the Royal Guard are there when Soonyoung can’t be. You are never left alone.
In an unprecedented move, Jeonghan advises you to dismiss your ladies-in-waiting, as a security measure. Everyone knows there is a certain level of distrust between you and them, and it has been there since the beginning. It would be very easy to weave them into a conspiracy against you since they have no loyalty to you.
“Losing the Queen Consort at a time like this could be disastrous.” He had said when he came to see you in your study. Seungcheol sat next to you, tense and uneasy with the conversation.
“While you are not yet with child, you are a symbol for the people that they will get an heir. We cannot lose that symbol. It’s all about optics.”
You wanted to quip back that you will never carry the heir for this Throne, but you kept your mouth shut.
“Nothing will happen to Her Majesty.” Seungcheol’s tone had been hard and unquestionable. “She’s under my protection. No one will lay a hand on her.”
Your heart had skipped a beat at his words. Jeonghan just smirked in a way that unnerved you.
Seungcheol has been tense and worried since the morning of the late King’s death. The possibility of war has become near certain, which puts him in a very intensive role as a garrison commander. The threat to your well being has added on top, leaving him with too much on his plate. Your words of placation don’t do much, even when he says he is fine. His shoulders carry his stress, tense and bunched, and a thin line lives permanently between his eyebrows, his lips pulled taut and face unmoving. You miss the softness of him, but you have not said as much. You do not want to burden him with any more than he already has.
Court that morning, after the coronation, is an important event for you. It is not just Eunhee, but another handmaid as well who helps dress you. The fabric is satin, the monarchy colors of deep maroon and gold, and you have to breathe deeper than you normally would. While you have always dressed to the nines, it will be even more grand now, reflecting your position as Queen Consort. You watch yourself in the mirror, heart beating fast. It hits you, for a brief second, that you have not come to terms with anything either. It has all been so sudden, so explosive. You are now reigning Queen. A controversial, foreign Queen, yes, but a Queen nonetheless.
Last night, before the Prince’s coronation, you had been introduced to Jeon Wonwoo, your new steward. He was a tall man with a stiff posture and raven black hair. He bowed to you deeply, dressed in court attire. Round spectacles set in a metal frame hung with a silver chain around his neck.
“Your Majesty.” His voice was a low, soft baritone. You nodded and gave a small smile.
“Lord Jeon is one of the Court’s most trusted.” Seungcheol had explained. “He will be taking care of your schedules, your personal affects, your finances and your appointments. He will handle anything you might need.”
This is what threw you off. Because before Wonwoo, all of this was handled by Seungcheol.
You had not said anything, just nodding as you willed your throat to not tighten. You understand that Seungcheol is overburdened, but he has been dedicated exclusively to you for the entire time you have lived in this castle. The thought of him not being around as much kills you. Especially after you’ve crossed boundaries with him, felt the heat of his touch. His lips.
You banish the thoughts from your head, blinking hard. Eunhee is still flitting around, making sure everything is perfect. Finally, when she steps back and bows, you take a deep breath.
Eunhee lets Wonwoo in five minutes later. He bows deeply. His spectacles are perched on the bridge of his nose. He peers at the parchment in his hands, informing you of the Coronation ending, and Court proceedings for the day. You bite the inside of your cheek and resist the urge to ask him where Seungcheol is. You wanted him here.
Your steward walks three paces behind you as you make your way to Court. Castle workers and staff bow deeply as you pass, the now reigning Queen. Your position in Court, your seat, is different now too. As you make your way to it, you feel like something is shifting in the air. Something is changing. Like one chapter closing and another beginning. This is the start of something new.
Yet you don’t feel invigorated.
Court is eventful, and you try to keep up with as much of it as possible. There is still a level of tension in the air, and your husband, now King, behaves in a way that raises eyebrows. There is not enough mourning in his words, not enough respect, and you can see the way his widowed mother’s jaw tightens, the way her eyes glisten. You have no love in your heart for her, but today, you feel it. The child she birthed, the only thing that gave her purpose, is crass to her and her former Crown. You cannot imagine how that must feel.
You vow to yourself to never let your only purpose be to bear an heir. You vow to yourself that you will care for more than just that.
You spot Seungcheol in Court along with other Knights. He is dressed in his ceremonials, maroon jacket and many golden medals embellishing his chest. You don’t look too long, turning away when something twinges in your heart. That same feeling from this morning. The dread of him pulling away. This does feel like a new chapter, but you didn’t want the old one to end so soon. Before it even properly began.
Breakfast is sordid, and you half-heartedly participate. No one but the King is unsuitably jovial. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you have to fight back the humorous yet horrific thought of what he has to put up with in recent weeks. As Chief Councillor, things cannot be easy, especially when he is advising someone who refuses to take any of it. You do not wish such a tedious task on anyone.
Wonwoo guides you through church obligations, staff changes and castle responsibilities for the rest of the day. The Queen Consort does, of course, hold her own Court. Surprisingly, you enjoy it. After being so helpless and discarded for so long, even something as obligatory and largely unimportant as a Queen’s Court is like a gift for you. It is little power, but it is coming to you after an entire life of having none, so you cherish it.
Part of the reason is that Seungcheol is there, as your Knight.
You do not interact with him directly, engaged with your clerks, noblewomen and church officials. But having him in your vicinity calms you. You keep your eyes off him, since any deviance would immediately be noticed in a setting like this. You keep things short and simple, not a fan of dawdling and dragging. Your steward seems to approve, nodding once it is over and you look at him expectantly.
“You did splendidly, Your Majesty.” He praises you. “To-the-point, but not crude. You hold authority. I am sure Court attendees were most surprised. You will have their respect in no time.”
You glow at the praise. Maybe this can be your purpose. Maybe something you do will actually hold weight.
Towards the time of sundown, you are left weary. It has been a busy day, and so you finally retire to your chambers. Wonwoo takes his leave, and you sink into your armchair, basking in the heat of the fireplace, just as you had started this day out, except this time, you are in heavy robes rather than your night dress.
You sit there for what feels like hours, but is likely only a few minutes. You think over everything that has happened, and how different things will be moving forward. Today was a taste of the rest of your life, you believe. And while part of you is happy at how things went, one thing is not to your liking, and you want to change that.
You rise from your seat and walk to the door, pulling it open.
Soonyoung is outside with another guard whose name you do not know. They both bow deeply to you.
“Soonyoung,” you speak, “can you please find Sir Choi for me? Tell him it is urgent.”
Soonyoung blinks and nods enthusiastically. “Of course, Your Majesty. Right away.”
He gestures to the other guard, who immediately sets off.
“When he arrives, send him in.” You continue. “No one else in or out. Tell Eunhee I will see her in the morning.”
Soonyoung seems surprised but bows regardless. You close the door and glide towards the fireplace again. You don’t sit, instead standing before it, letting it warm your cold fingertips. You count fifteen minutes before you hear a knock on your door. It slides open.
“Your Majesty.”
Your eyes flutter at the sound of his voice, like you’ve yearned for it. You close them briefly before turning around to look.
Seungcheol is dressed still in Court attire, padded jacket, slacks and leather shoes. His hair is parted down the middle, brushed off his forehead in dark curtains. A look of concern dawns on his handsome face. He looks around briefly, like he’s assessing the surroundings to find if something is wrong.
“You summoned me.” He closes the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”
You nod and smile, but it is bittersweet and barely there. “I pulled you from duty, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have. But I could no longer take it.”
That familiar dread comes back, encroaching on your heart as he watches you.
“I miss you terribly.”
You see the exact moment his face softens, the stoney expression melting into something more regretful. You watch him hesitate before he slowly reaches back, twisting his wrist. You hear a soft click as the door locks. Your heart skips.
Seungcheol moves closer to where you stand, joining you in front of the fireplace. You almost stiffen when his hands find your waist, but the relief is immediate. You sigh into him, his forehead meeting yours. His familiar scent floods your nose.
“I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty.” He mumbles. “I’ve neglected my most sacred oath to you. That is my mistake to bear.”
You feel his hair brush over your forehead. When you peer up at him, his eyes are soft and sure, like wet earth. You purse your lips, feeling particularly petulant after being near him but not having his attention the whole day.
“I doubt you feel any regret.” You quip. “Handing me off to Lord Jeon like I mean nothing.”
You are goading him, you know this, and he falls for it every time. He blinks and pouts in that way you love so much, and his hands on your waist tighten. He pulls your body closer. Your breath stutters.
“That is nonsense, Your Majesty.” His nose brushes yours. “My first priority is always you.”
The air charges. You feel his breath hit your lips. You feel like your nerves are on fire, and you cannot wait anymore. You push forward to press your mouths together.
He is quick to kiss you back, one hand finding the back of your head so he can tilt your face just slightly. It allows him to kiss you deeper, more desperately, and you feel once again his yearning for this moment. You curse at yourself for doubting him for even one second, that he would deliberately be staying away from you for any reason. How dare you be uncertain about the one person that has never once failed you? Especially when he runs his tongue so reverently over your bottom lip, when he sucks lightly at the plush of it, when he finally invades your mouth, tastes you wholly and truly, your torso arching into him as he supports your weight. You whine into him and you feel, more than hear, his breath hitch. You want to scold yourself.
“I was a fool.” Your voice muffles into his mouth, but he hears you regardless. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be around me. I was afraid you would not be my Knight anymore.”
He freezes. His lips leave yours. His eyes, wide with shock and, to your dismay, hurt.
“Your Highness.” He resorts to your old title in his incredulity. His voice shakes. “I would never.”
You open your mouth to assure him. To tell him that you know, that you were merely paranoid and insecure. But he doesn’t wait. He sinks to both knees, leaving you speechless as you watch him. His hands never leave you, sliding to your hips, encasing them. His forehead meets your stomach. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribs.
“By my faith, my sword and my honor, I live to serve your person for as long as I draw breath.”
Your hands shake as they meet his shoulders. Broad, strong, and always steadfast. Reliable. Your fingers wander to his neck, up to his ears, his hair. Soft, silky tresses move through the gaps in your digits. He looks up slowly, letting your hands card through his dark locks. His eyelids flutter when you trace his cheekbones with your thumbs.
“Please, never doubt me.” He whispers. “I’m yours only. I will live and die for you. I will bleed for you.”
The heat from the hearth is not nearly equal to how his words set your soul on fire. Your lips part, your eyes gloss, and you say the words that you never, ever imagined yourself saying out loud, but fantasized about too often in the depths of the dark night.
“Seungcheol.” You look down at your Knight, on his knees before you. “Bed me.”
His eyes flicker, he leans forward and places a kiss over the satin of your dress, right over your navel. You feel your face burn.
“Are you sure, Your Majesty?” He whispers into the cloth. “That is a line neither of us can redraw.”
You have never felt more sure of any decision you have made in your life. You nod.
“I have never wanted anyone.” You confess. “Not even my own husband. Even on my wedding night, I was nothing but nervous and anxious. The first time I felt desire-”
You peer down at him. He watches you.
“-was when I watched you across the castle courtyard.”
Recognition passes over his features. Slowly, he stands, eyes never leaving yours. It seems like the dam has been broken on your scandalous thoughts, because you keep speaking.
“When you kissed me in the carriage, I wished for you to have me right there.” You can see his ears turn pink. His lips part. Your own face is hot beyond bearing. His grip on your sides tightens. “I have been starved for your touch only. Every night, I dream of having you in my bed with me. Seungcheol, you said you want me too. So please, take me.”
He does not answer. Not verbally, at least. When his lips meet yours again, the kiss is fiery in a way that ignites every vessel in your limbs. His hands leave your body only for his arms to wind around your completely, pulling you tightly against his. The metal pieces on his uniform dig into you, but you do not care as he kisses your breath away.
“My Queen.” Your breath stutters at how deep his voice is. “It would be my greatest honor.”
The ground drops from underneath your feet when strong arms wind around your torso and legs, lifting you up. You circle your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and nuzzle into his cheek, laying a small kiss on it when your affection for him overwhelms you. His skin is hot beneath your lips, near feverish, but you don’t let up. Your surroundings swim, and finally, you are being laid carefully down on your mattress, the silk sheets cool under your heated figure.
For a second, no one speaks. Seungcheol’s eyes travel over your face before dipping. A sheepish look flits across his face.
“Your garments are…. endlessly complicated.”
You can’t help but giggle, some of your nerves breaking at his words. You feel more comfortable when you sit up and slide over the edge of the bed to stand again. You turn your back to him, arm twisting back to point to the lace ups of your bodice.
“Here.”
You feel his hands tug and pull, the cloth loosening enough to slide apart, revealing the corset underneath. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and your face flushes once more. Your mind has barely caught up to the desire coursing through your body, but it hits you for a brief second. You are about to unclothe in front of a man, by his hands. Your heart races.
You feel Seungcheol’s fingers on your bare shoulders as he pushes the satin off them, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. A little more tugging, and the skirt around your hips comes loose, the full drapes plopping on the ground. You feel your body stiffen.
Instead of undoing your corset next, you feel prickling at your scalp as Seungcheol pulls out the many hair pins holding your tresses up. One by one, they make small clicking sounds as he places them on the wooden table by your bedside. You feel the relief of loosened hair again. It brushes your shoulders, your back. You feel the corners of your lips twitch.
“I would almost assume you’ve done this before.” You comment. You feel his breath on your shoulder again as he laughs.
“Never.” He replies. “I was sworn to celibacy when I was brought up to the castle.”
That surprises you. While the thought of Seungcheol being with any woman makes your chest squeeze with disgust, you never expected him to be uninterested in them. He is a man, after all, a very attractive one at that, and you’ve heard many a woman in this very castle who has entertained the idea of him in her head.
“But I have watched you.” He pulls you out of your thoughts. “I’ve watched the way this fabric clings to you, the way your pins keep your hair from moving even an inch. Every part of you, I have gazed upon with scandalous intentions. I hope you can forgive me.”
That gets to you. It makes your breath hitch. Faintly, you feel his touch, a finger tracing down the line of your spine, just over the crisp material of your corset. A tug, and you feel the first ring loosen.
“What do you think about?” You urge him on. You want to know more.
Another tug. You can draw a deeper breath.
“This.” Seungcheol whispers. “Your skin. I always imagined it to be so soft. Unblemished. Untouched.” His hand runs over the tender lines that the corset has left on you. You shiver visibly.
Three more tugs sets the corset loose. Your torso relaxes, and you reach up to pull it away. It falls on top of the mess of skirts surrounding your feet. Soft hands run over your waist, just over the last, thin garment that separates you from him. You take in a shaky inhale when his lips press small kisses on your shoulder, his hands exploring. You can feel the heat of his body on your back. Your heart still hammering, you gather the courage to turn around.
Seungcheol’s eyes are soft, like glowing embers, as they run over your body. You distract yourself by reaching up, tugging slightly on the lapels of his jacket. He understands, undoing the gold buttons and tugging the heavy jacket off, revealing a plain, black top underneath. Even without all the glamor of gold adorning him, he looks just as handsome, all smooth lines and beautiful, pale skin.
Arms wind around your waist, and Seungcheol lifts you from between the mess of satin cloth surrounding your feet and ankles, plopping you on the bed instead. You hold tightly to him, making his own body follow yours as your back meets the mattress. You can’t stop staring, barely blinking, because you don’t want to miss a single moment of this. There is no anxiety, no nerves, only heated anticipation and adoration.
But Seungcheol’s touch is heavier, more longing than adoration. There’s reverence in it as he kisses you again, his legs framing your hips, one elbow digging into the bed beside your face while his other hand runs down your body to reach the hem of your chemise, brushing the outside of your thigh. Something intense burns in his touch, in his lips as they press near harshly against yours, like he has a point to prove.
“My Queen.” He rasps again. You barely hold back a whimper. “This is more to me than just bedding you. This…. this is worship.”
His lips leave your mouth, trailing down your chin. His tongue peeks out, runs in a wet line down the column of your throat as your head leans back. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it. His hand dips under the hem of your slip, pushes it up to brush over your bare hip. It traces the line of your bottoms, the last piece of cloth between him and where you need him the most.
He speaks with every press of his lips into your neck, every dig of his teeth into your skin.
“Your honor is my cause.” He whispers. He licks over your carotid as it jumps wildly. “Your safety is my vigil.”
His hand dips into the waistband of your bottoms. It traces over your hipbone, moves to the center, until you feel his palm run just over your mound. “Your word is my law.”
You realise, even through the thick fog slowly settling over your head, that these are not random words. It is his oath of fealty, the one that he took while on one knee before you when he became your Knight.
“Not for glory, nor reward, nor land do I swear this, but because my heart knows no truer allegiance than to you.”
You moan. A shaky, thin sound that fills the air, muffled only by the heavy curtains surrounding your four poster bed, keeping you and Seungcheol hidden from the rest of the world. The sound seems to egg him on. His fingertips dig just lightly into the soft give of your stomach. His lips lay a final kiss under your ear before trailing back to your waiting mouth. When his eyes meet yours again, they are devoid of irises, dilated with his arousal, pitch black pools that you would willingly fall into.
You will never question his loyalty ever again.
“May I unclothe you?” He asks, breath hitting your lips. You give him a half-smile.
“That’s what you have been doing already.”
When he smiles, you see minute crinkles on the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen them this close, and you fight the urge to pluck at them with your mouth.
“This will leave you bear, Your Majesty.” He sighs. “I fear myself not worthy of that sight.”
You shake your head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It’s silky soft as always, and you watch his eyelids flutter when your nails scratch his scalp.
“No one is worthy except you.”
When your chemise is pulled up, off your body and discarded to the side, you feel your skin burn. Seungcheol’s mouth parts, his eyes are hungry in a way you have never seen before. He lets out a small noise, his first of the night, a low groan from within the depths of his chest.
“I’m not worthy.” He repeats. “But I am weak.”
He leans down, his lips brushing over your collarbone. Your breath hitches. They travel down, between the valley of your breasts, tracing your sternum. They deviate to the side, sliding over the swell of your chest to reach your nipple. You gasp when his tongue runs over the hardened nub. He pauses for a split second, then encloses his lips around it.
He explores your body slowly, sucking, nipping, licking, kissing. He pays attention to every skin cell, every hair follicle, and anything that escapes his mouth is captured by his quick fingers. His forefinger and thumb pinches and rolls your unoccupied nipple between them until it is perked and tingly. He sucks so hard you are afraid he will somehow draw milk, against all logic. He moans into them like they are quenching his thirst, and the ticklish, electric sensation in your lower stomach intensifies. When you squirm and your legs twitch, you are horrified to realise that something wet is building up between your legs.
But you can’t stop it. You don’t want to. If he stops now, you might cry.
He keeps going until you’re so sensitive it almost hurts. When he pulls away, finally, he blows air on them. And you cry out.
“Sshh.” He reaches up to press his forehead to yours. “You make such pretty sounds, but being too loud will have consequences.”
You shake your head. “It’s only Soonyoung outside.”
Seungcheol hums. “And what? You want him to know?”
You flush at the thought. Seungcheol’s eyes widen just a little. A thick eyebrow ticks up.
“Oh?” His voice is smooth like butter. You clench subconsciously. More wetness dampens your core. He reaches down again, tracing his tongue over the shell of your ear.
“Does Her Majesty want the guard to hear her getting worshipped?” His breath hits your ear and sends shivers down your spine. You arch into him, feeling your bare, sensitive nipples brush his clothed chest. “Do you think he deserves to hear the beautiful sounds you make when I touch intimate parts of you?”
You can barely get your words out, your head spinning. You can feel Seungcheol’s palm splay over your stomach, traveling down at a torturously slow pace.
“You are the only one who gets to touch.” You whimper. “Maybe he should know that.”
A chuckle. A deep, throaty sound that shoots like lightening to the area between your legs. Seungcheol bypasses your core and instead runs his hand down your thigh to grip your knee. Finally, he tugs at it, pulling it apart.
Cold air hits the heated area. Seungcheol shifts, maneuvering himself so that he settles between your now open legs. You flush at the thought of being open to him like this, but lust eggs you on. You watch as he stares, and nearly moan when his tongue runs over his bottom lip, eyeing your nude body hungrily.
“May I taste you?” He asks.
Your eyes widen. You feel yourself stiffen slightly.
“Down…. down there?”
It looks like a struggle for him to tear his eyes away so he can look at you. He nods. You hesitate. You’re unsure of why he would want to do that. It seems he reads your mind.
“Your nectar, your essence, just a taste of it will sustain me, Your Majesty.” He rasps. His voice is pleading. Your throat tightens at the desperation in his tone. “I beg of you. And I promise, I will bring you to heights of pleasure you’ve never known before. Will you trust me?”
That’s not even a question. There is no one within these four walls, and even beyond them, that you trust more than him. So you nod, because on the question of trust, you will never doubt Seungcheol.
He positively perks up at your granted permission. When he slides down your body, your heartbeat picks up again. You try to breathe deeply so you don’t tense up as he carefully and gently pulls your thighs apart. It feels…. dirty….. but something about it thrills you too. The thought of his mouth on your most private parts is scandalous, but something in your loins burns at the notion. When you feel his breath on your lower lips, you jump.
Seungcheol chuckles. “Relax.”
You try to take a deep breath, but your Knight chooses that moment to kiss your folds. He starts soft and slow, just running his lips over them, pressing small kisses and nips on them. Then, you feel something hot and wet, his tongue, poke through the slit, small licks that make your lips part as you gasp. You stare at the delicate maroon cloth above you that is draped over the frame of your four poster bed, eyes nearly rolling when he finally licks a thick stripe from your twitching entrance to the apex of your lips. You whine.
“Good?” His breath hits your wet core again. You nod, unable to speak.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
His hold on your thighs tightens. He pushes them apart more, leaving you open before him, and dives in again, lapping over you hungrily. His lips close around your sensitive bundle of nerves and suck. You almost scream, clamping your mouth shut with your hands before you can. Despite the thrill of everything, you don’t really want anyone to hear you. Your eyes water, your features pinching as waves of pleasure roll up from your cunt and through your body. Every one of your reactions spurs Seungcheol on even more. He licks and sucks like his life depends on it, like he’s hungry for your taste. Maybe he is, because he groans into the sopping wet mess. His tongue runs down until it pokes at your hole. You tense at the feeling, and then the wet appendage slides in, poking in and out until your opening is loose enough for him to lick your insides too. His nose nudges your clit, and your whine is muffled into your hands.
Every time his hair brushes your inner thighs, every time you feel his hands pull your legs open and keep them there, or when his broad shoulders brush the back of your legs, you flush, overwhelmed at the thought of him devouring you like this. The knot in your core feels like it is snowballing, getting bigger and bigger, tighter, until one of your hands leaves your mouth so you can claw at Seungcheol’s shirt and shoulder. You kick, try to squirm away as the pleasure becomes near blinding, but his hold on you only tightens. He holds you down, sucks at your nub over and over until you can’t warn him anymore.
You wail, muffled by the back of your hand as the dam breaks. Tears escape the corners of your eyes and slide down the sides of your face. Your back arches off the bed, your entire body tightening and releasing as it overwhelms you like a tidal wave washing over your writhing body. His lips don’t slow, his tongue never rests, and he keeps going until you whine, exhausted, and push him again, less forcefully this time, since your limbs feel like liquid. This time, he finally pulls away, sitting up and lowering your shaking legs carefully to the bed.
He is a vision.
His face is flushed entirely pink, but particularly dark on the apples of his cheeks. Despite the cold air, sweat has built up on his temples because of the sweltering heat between your thighs. His lips are swollen and dark, covered with shiny, clear liquid. It swaths over his jaw and neck too, drenching him, but he seems unbothered by it. His tongue pokes out to run over his lips, lapping up whatever he can find on his face. Your own feels like it’s on fire.
“Good?” He asks again.
You don’t even know what to say. You just nod jerkily, trying to catch your breath. Seungcheol chuckles.
“I dream of this, you know?” He says, sliding up your trembling body. “When other men speak of the women they bed, I wonder about you. How you would taste on my tongue. I wake up from those dreams overwhelmed and aroused, always.”
He settles between your legs again, pressing his forehead to yours. “No dream can compare to reality.”
When he kisses you, you taste yourself on him. Not exactly sweet, but not sour either, and you wonder if he is exaggerating. But his actions and his words say otherwise, and you believe him completely. You feel his hands massage your inner thighs, digging pleasantly into the aching muscle. They slide up to the junction of where your legs meet your hips, one hand finding your twitching core again.
“We can stop if you want.” He offers. “It might be too much for you.”
You shake your head. “Want you, Seungcheol.”
He moans, nods, and his fingers trace your slit to prod at your entrance. You’re drenched, half with your own release and half from his spit, so he circles the opening with the pad of his middle finger before slowly breaching it. Your jaw goes slack.
He watches every reaction carefully, making sure you are in no pain as his finger slides in and out, in and out. Just one, but he’s still so careful. He slides it to the base of his knuckles, pauses for a split second, and then curls it up. You gasp.
This sensation is entirely different than the one before. While that felt unimaginably good, this hits deeper, like it is making you feel good from the inside out. Subconsciously, your legs spread even more, like you want to pull him in further. You pant, eyelids fluttering, hips undulating. Seungcheol’s keen eyes follow every movement.
“More?”
You nod vigorously, making his lips tick up a little. He slides another finger in, joining the first one in pumping carefully in and out. His fingers are thick, and now you feel the stretch on your gummy walls. He takes it slow, letting you adjust. You moan quietly when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing little circles on it to make the stretch feel better. Slowly, the slight twinge of pain disappears, replaced by pleasure even more amplified than before.
Seungcheol’s other arm, that he is using to prop himself up by your side, shifts a little. His hand finds your hair, splayed around your head like a dark halo, and caresses tenderly through the strands. His fingers, buried deep in your cunt, curl and prod, until you yelp at the spot they hit, and then he rubs exclusively over it until you’re whimpering and crying, one hand gripping his wrist like a vice while the other fists his shirt.
He adds a third finger. You have no time to warn him before your back arches, your eyes roll, and another high assaults your every sense. It is even more intense than the first one, and you nearly weep. He uses his own weight to keep your body from jerking too much, and he whispers gentle praises in your ear as you ride the waves. When it wanes, you’re left breathless and shaky, nearly disoriented.
“Beautiful.” He breathes. “You’re a sight no one deserves to lay eyes on.”
When his fingers pull out, they make a squelching sound that leaves you flushed. But you’re caught even more off guard when Seungcheol immediately plops them into his mouth, licking them clean of all your juices. He groans in approval, licking over any that runs down the back of his hand. You swallow tightly as you watch him. Heat stirs in you at how handsome he looks. Slightly disheveled, but endlessly dreamy like this. You want to see all of him.
“Take your clothes off.” You manage to get out.
Seungcheol has spoken a lot about thinking of you, but he is unaware that you’ve thought extensively of him too. When he tugs his shirt off, you’re reminded of the times you’ve seen his cheeks glow bright in the sun, imagining how his bare shoulders would look under that same light, just as pale as the rest of him. When he undoes his slacks and tugs them off, your mouth drops, and you remember imagining this too, in the very depths of the night, shameful, taboo thoughts of what he looks like completely naked. You knew he would be glorious nude, his broad build visible even through his clothes, but you never imagined this, never anticipated that he would be so big below the belt. Long and curved, thicker than you could have ever conjured in your inexperienced mind. It is flushed dark, leaking at the tip and running in a clear liquid down the mushroom head. When he wraps a hand around it and tugs, you hear his breath tremble in relief.
You don’t think before reaching down, your fingertips brushing his hand, sliding under it so you can replicate his movements. He groans, shakes his head.
“You don’t have to-” He chokes, and his back almost curls in on himself when you squeeze him slightly. You bite your lip as you watch him, how his face crumples and his moans rise an octave. Something runs through you like a thrill, a form of power, in your ability to reduce him to this.
Your mouth waters. You wonder if you can taste him like he tasted you.
Before you can ask, he shuffles forward again, tugging your legs up to settle closer to your core. Anticipation curls in your stomach at the thought of being filled with something so thick and girthy, dread mixed with excitement. Your hand is still moving, almost on its own accord, when he finally takes over, squeezing at the base a little before he runs it up your sensitive slit. You twitch.
He looks up at you in question one last time. You nod.
The first breach has you sharply inhaling, gritting your teeth as his head pops inside. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks.
“Relax.” He whispers, thumb circling your clit. You breathe out, trying to soften your core, and he slides in a bit more. He does it little by little, playing with your body to take your mind off it, until you feel the last inch sink into you. His hips meet yours, skin flush together. Finally, he moans wantonly.
“Lords above.” He chokes. “You’re…. fuck.”
You almost gasp. Seungcheol has never sworn before you. Never. His lack of inhibition now makes you whimper, your hands clenching in the silk sheets under you. His hips twitch, then he pulls out, almost to the very tip, sinking in slowly again. He watches it with barely disguised awe, doing it again and again, watching your hole expand with every slide of him to the base. Your eyes roll, revelling in the sensation of being filled like this, his shaft pressing into every part of your spongy walls as it drags in and out.
Minutes pass, and he slowly picks up the pace. You gasp and moan, back arching. You hear the plop noise his skin makes when it comes in contact with yours, the stretch and give of your pussy as he fucks into you faster and faster. The bed curtains swish as the bed moves under the force of him. You can see his muscles shift and flex with every movement, and the sight of him, combined with every movement, makes you whimper and cry.
“Seungcheol.” Your voice trembles.
“You feel so good.” He gasps, beats you to the punch. “How long I have wanted this, my Queen. How terribly I have wished to feel you wrapped around me like this.”
Your jaw goes slack when he hits the same spot with his cock that his fingers found not too long ago. You clench hard. His voice cracks.
“Dreamed of this for so long.” He babbles. “You’re tighter than anything. I can’t believe- can’t imagine-”
When his hands give out, you feel his weight on your chest, his arms sliding under your body to hug you tightly to his own. A pleasant feeling, bare skin against bare skin, and his heart pounds so hard you can perceive it through your own chest.
“-I’ve been the only one to feel this.” His pace turns frantic. “No one else. Just me.”
You nod, even though his face is buried in your neck and he can’t see you. “Only you.”
He moans into your sweaty skin, laps at it with his tongue. He ruts into you like he’s desperate for it.
“Only me. I get to have your body like this. Your pretty cunt, all mine. My Queen, can I fuck you like this every day? I can’t go without it, not after knowing. I must have you. I must have you-”
When you come, it is with a sob that you muffle in his bare shoulder, your teeth digging harshly into his skin. His pace stutters and he curses again, words you have never heard before but can tell are not meant for public speech, as well as more praises for how well you take him, how you’ve molded your pussy to his shape, how your body will recognise him now, how much he loves you….
He floods your insides with white hot liquid, and you bask in the feeling of it. His flesh trembles under your splayed palms. He ruts into you, slower, less intense now, just as needy, as he slowly comes down. The thick, strained cords of muscle in his back gradually relax under your touch as your fingertips dance over him. Your breaths slow, regulating as the seconds tick by.
All is silent. He presses soft kisses to your neck. Finally, his arms loosen and slide out from under you, separating your bodies enough for him to look into your eyes. His are soft and pliant, warm, sleepy. When he smiles, it is lazy and slow, softer than you’ve ever seen on him. You giggle, body feeling pleasantly heavy.
When he pulls out and stands, you feel strangely empty, turning on your side as your sore muscles relax. You blink as you watch him turn to grab the sheets on your bed to cover your naked body.
“You have a tattoo.” You state.
Seungcheol smiles a bit sheepishly, nodding. “It is unusual, I’m aware. I got it a long time ago, during a trip to a foreign land when I was younger.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, standing. Your eyes linger on the dark tree etched just below the back of his neck. It looks sturdy, and it shifts when he moves.
“Drink and bad decisions.” He mumbles. “I am just grateful it can be hidden easily.”
Your fingers itch to trace it with your hands. “I like it.”
He turns to you quizzically. “You do?”
You merely nod and smile. His eyes twinkle.
Seungcheol putters around the room as you curl into the sheets and watch him. He pours a glass of water, downing it and pouring one for you as well, which he gently coaxes down your parched throat. You watch him gather your discarded dress and splay it over your armchair. You wave your hand at it in dismissal.
“Eunhee will take care of it in the morning.” You mumble.
He finds your night dress fairly easily, and helps you slip into it. Every movement with him feels natural, even though the act of him handling your clothes and dressing you is deeply intimate. Nothing can compare to what you two just did while tangled up in each other’s limbs, so this all seems trivial. You pout a little when you watch him tug his clothes on, and he only chuckles at the sight.
“I can’t be here in the morning, Your Majesty.” He explains, seating himself on the edge of the mattress to run an affectionate hand over your hair. “I’m almost certain Soonyoung heard everything, but we can trust him completely. However, I’m not sure things will fare well for us when your steward shows up tomorrow and finds me here.”
You make a face and huff a little. Seungcheol lays a soft kiss on your cheek and stands up. Searching for his boots.
“Tomorrow night, then?” You ask instead, remembering the slew of words and sentences he threw out during your tryst about getting to do this every day. The thought of it already excites you, and the way he smiles, the cute indent in his cheek amplified, it seems he feels the same.
“Tomorrow night.” He promises.
When he’s ready to leave, he leans over you and kisses you one last time, deep and intense, his hands splaying over your waist and sides, gripping any part of you he can find. You tug at his hair, tongue gliding wetly over his as he groans into your mouth, muffling your own whimpers. When he pulls away, you feel dizzy.
“Tell Eunhee to do something about your neck.” He rasps, and you feel his thumb run over the skin at the junction of your shoulder, inches above your collarbone.
When your handmaid shows up the next morning, you are sheepish. She says nothing except to give you a tiny smile, powdering you more than she usually would, in an effort to hide the dark blotch your Knight left marring your skin. When you question her lack of reaction, she just shrugs, but something clever twinkles in her eye.
“Soonyoung might have mentioned something when he got home this morning.” She quips. You can’t help but feel giddy and mildly embarrassed.
“You won’t tell?”
You know she won’t. She is your most trusted apart from Seungcheol. Her face softens as she laces you up, and you see her shake her head over your shoulder in the mirror that you stand in front of.
“You deserve to feel happy.” She replies, simply. You don’t have time to say anything more when there’s a knock on your door and Sir Jeon walks in with the agenda for the day in his hand.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 8.5k
warnings (for this chapter): mild angst, some historical inaccuracy, mentions of death and conspiracy, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, mentions of war, forbidden love.
series masterlist
The bells begin ringing at sunrise.
They are not celebratory. They are muted and grave, signalling mourning. The air is cold, nearly nipping. Winter has fallen suddenly over the country in the last few weeks, and it brings with it an unnerving chill that settles in your bones.
You sit in front of your fireplace, watching the flames dance in it. It’s very early. Eunhee isn’t here. Yet you are awake, still in your night clothes, imagining how the cathedral might look like right now in the bleak winter morning under the gray, cloudy sky.
It is the day of your husband’s coronation.
Seungcheol told you last night about how rushed preparations have been, and how muted the ceremony will be. Black cloth draped over the cathedral doors, noblemen in furs of muted colors, hushed whispers as everyone mourns. The Prince, dressed in a cloak hastily fitted to him, the archbishop, who will conduct the ceremony in quick, sharp sentences. Nothing grand, nothing ceremonial, out of respect for their late King and his untimely demise.
You can imagine it all in your head. That is all you can do, since you will not be there physically.
You have always known you are a controversial figure within the walls of this castle, and you have never minded this fact. You do not care. Your controversy was your weapon to protect yourself from endless hurt. So it came to you as no surprise when Seungcheol told you that you would either be placed far back in the cathedral, or you would not be physically present for the ceremony at all. You had then said you would like to be left out. Rather that than sitting away from everyone like discarded jewelry. So here you are, in your chambers, awaiting Eunhee.
Over the last week, seamstresses have worked tirelessly to prepare your new attire. Grander, deeper colors, heavier cloth, what would fit a Queen Consort. You would not be officially crowned, since circumstances are so dire, but the statement is clear. You are now the ruling Queen, while your mother in law remains so only in name, no longer reigning. She has done nothing but weep and mourn her husband’s death, a true spectacle considering she never cared for him. But she did care for her place as the reigning Queen, and you know that is driving her grief more than the King’s death.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.
The castle is restless, on edge. It has been since the King’s death. Suspicions are high, towards the court councillors and towards the Prince, now King. For a man with no health concerns suddenly being afflicted by humors of the brain and meeting with Death is a pill difficult to swallow, and that leaves everyone questioning. No one dared speak it in open air though, since war is imminent and no matter what, a new King is needed. All mouths remain shut, but eyes shift. They gleam with mistrust.
Seungcheol still suspects your husband, almost explicitly so. He stays by your side as much as Royal duty and war preparation allows him. When he is not there, someone else always is. Someone he trusts. Often, it is Soonyoung, Eunhee’s husband, who stays outside your door on Seungcheol’s strict instructions. But others from the Royal Guard are there when Soonyoung can’t be. You are never left alone.
In an unprecedented move, Jeonghan advises you to dismiss your ladies-in-waiting, as a security measure. Everyone knows there is a certain level of distrust between you and them, and it has been there since the beginning. It would be very easy to weave them into a conspiracy against you since they have no loyalty to you.
“Losing the Queen Consort at a time like this could be disastrous.” He had said when he came to see you in your study. Seungcheol sat next to you, tense and uneasy with the conversation.
“While you are not yet with child, you are a symbol for the people that they will get an heir. We cannot lose that symbol. It’s all about optics.”
You wanted to quip back that you will never carry the heir for this Throne, but you kept your mouth shut.
“Nothing will happen to Her Majesty.” Seungcheol’s tone had been hard and unquestionable. “She’s under my protection. No one will lay a hand on her.”
Your heart had skipped a beat at his words. Jeonghan just smirked in a way that unnerved you.
Seungcheol has been tense and worried since the morning of the late King’s death. The possibility of war has become near certain, which puts him in a very intensive role as a garrison commander. The threat to your well being has added on top, leaving him with too much on his plate. Your words of placation don’t do much, even when he says he is fine. His shoulders carry his stress, tense and bunched, and a thin line lives permanently between his eyebrows, his lips pulled taut and face unmoving. You miss the softness of him, but you have not said as much. You do not want to burden him with any more than he already has.
Court that morning, after the coronation, is an important event for you. It is not just Eunhee, but another handmaid as well who helps dress you. The fabric is satin, the monarchy colors of deep maroon and gold, and you have to breathe deeper than you normally would. While you have always dressed to the nines, it will be even more grand now, reflecting your position as Queen Consort. You watch yourself in the mirror, heart beating fast. It hits you, for a brief second, that you have not come to terms with anything either. It has all been so sudden, so explosive. You are now reigning Queen. A controversial, foreign Queen, yes, but a Queen nonetheless.
Last night, before the Prince’s coronation, you had been introduced to Jeon Wonwoo, your new steward. He was a tall man with a stiff posture and raven black hair. He bowed to you deeply, dressed in court attire. Round spectacles set in a metal frame hung with a silver chain around his neck.
“Your Majesty.” His voice was a low, soft baritone. You nodded and gave a small smile.
“Lord Jeon is one of the Court’s most trusted.” Seungcheol had explained. “He will be taking care of your schedules, your personal affects, your finances and your appointments. He will handle anything you might need.”
This is what threw you off. Because before Wonwoo, all of this was handled by Seungcheol.
You had not said anything, just nodding as you willed your throat to not tighten. You understand that Seungcheol is overburdened, but he has been dedicated exclusively to you for the entire time you have lived in this castle. The thought of him not being around as much kills you. Especially after you’ve crossed boundaries with him, felt the heat of his touch. His lips.
You banish the thoughts from your head, blinking hard. Eunhee is still flitting around, making sure everything is perfect. Finally, when she steps back and bows, you take a deep breath.
Eunhee lets Wonwoo in five minutes later. He bows deeply. His spectacles are perched on the bridge of his nose. He peers at the parchment in his hands, informing you of the Coronation ending, and Court proceedings for the day. You bite the inside of your cheek and resist the urge to ask him where Seungcheol is. You wanted him here.
Your steward walks three paces behind you as you make your way to Court. Castle workers and staff bow deeply as you pass, the now reigning Queen. Your position in Court, your seat, is different now too. As you make your way to it, you feel like something is shifting in the air. Something is changing. Like one chapter closing and another beginning. This is the start of something new.
Yet you don’t feel invigorated.
Court is eventful, and you try to keep up with as much of it as possible. There is still a level of tension in the air, and your husband, now King, behaves in a way that raises eyebrows. There is not enough mourning in his words, not enough respect, and you can see the way his widowed mother’s jaw tightens, the way her eyes glisten. You have no love in your heart for her, but today, you feel it. The child she birthed, the only thing that gave her purpose, is crass to her and her former Crown. You cannot imagine how that must feel.
You vow to yourself to never let your only purpose be to bear an heir. You vow to yourself that you will care for more than just that.
You spot Seungcheol in Court along with other Knights. He is dressed in his ceremonials, maroon jacket and many golden medals embellishing his chest. You don’t look too long, turning away when something twinges in your heart. That same feeling from this morning. The dread of him pulling away. This does feel like a new chapter, but you didn’t want the old one to end so soon. Before it even properly began.
Breakfast is sordid, and you half-heartedly participate. No one but the King is unsuitably jovial. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you have to fight back the humorous yet horrific thought of what he has to put up with in recent weeks. As Chief Councillor, things cannot be easy, especially when he is advising someone who refuses to take any of it. You do not wish such a tedious task on anyone.
Wonwoo guides you through church obligations, staff changes and castle responsibilities for the rest of the day. The Queen Consort does, of course, hold her own Court. Surprisingly, you enjoy it. After being so helpless and discarded for so long, even something as obligatory and largely unimportant as a Queen’s Court is like a gift for you. It is little power, but it is coming to you after an entire life of having none, so you cherish it.
Part of the reason is that Seungcheol is there, as your Knight.
You do not interact with him directly, engaged with your clerks, noblewomen and church officials. But having him in your vicinity calms you. You keep your eyes off him, since any deviance would immediately be noticed in a setting like this. You keep things short and simple, not a fan of dawdling and dragging. Your steward seems to approve, nodding once it is over and you look at him expectantly.
“You did splendidly, Your Majesty.” He praises you. “To-the-point, but not crude. You hold authority. I am sure Court attendees were most surprised. You will have their respect in no time.”
You glow at the praise. Maybe this can be your purpose. Maybe something you do will actually hold weight.
Towards the time of sundown, you are left weary. It has been a busy day, and so you finally retire to your chambers. Wonwoo takes his leave, and you sink into your armchair, basking in the heat of the fireplace, just as you had started this day out, except this time, you are in heavy robes rather than your night dress.
You sit there for what feels like hours, but is likely only a few minutes. You think over everything that has happened, and how different things will be moving forward. Today was a taste of the rest of your life, you believe. And while part of you is happy at how things went, one thing is not to your liking, and you want to change that.
You rise from your seat and walk to the door, pulling it open.
Soonyoung is outside with another guard whose name you do not know. They both bow deeply to you.
“Soonyoung,” you speak, “can you please find Sir Choi for me? Tell him it is urgent.”
Soonyoung blinks and nods enthusiastically. “Of course, Your Majesty. Right away.”
He gestures to the other guard, who immediately sets off.
“When he arrives, send him in.” You continue. “No one else in or out. Tell Eunhee I will see her in the morning.”
Soonyoung seems surprised but bows regardless. You close the door and glide towards the fireplace again. You don’t sit, instead standing before it, letting it warm your cold fingertips. You count fifteen minutes before you hear a knock on your door. It slides open.
“Your Majesty.”
Your eyes flutter at the sound of his voice, like you’ve yearned for it. You close them briefly before turning around to look.
Seungcheol is dressed still in Court attire, padded jacket, slacks and leather shoes. His hair is parted down the middle, brushed off his forehead in dark curtains. A look of concern dawns on his handsome face. He looks around briefly, like he’s assessing the surroundings to find if something is wrong.
“You summoned me.” He closes the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”
You nod and smile, but it is bittersweet and barely there. “I pulled you from duty, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have. But I could no longer take it.”
That familiar dread comes back, encroaching on your heart as he watches you.
“I miss you terribly.”
You see the exact moment his face softens, the stoney expression melting into something more regretful. You watch him hesitate before he slowly reaches back, twisting his wrist. You hear a soft click as the door locks. Your heart skips.
Seungcheol moves closer to where you stand, joining you in front of the fireplace. You almost stiffen when his hands find your waist, but the relief is immediate. You sigh into him, his forehead meeting yours. His familiar scent floods your nose.
“I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty.” He mumbles. “I’ve neglected my most sacred oath to you. That is my mistake to bear.”
You feel his hair brush over your forehead. When you peer up at him, his eyes are soft and sure, like wet earth. You purse your lips, feeling particularly petulant after being near him but not having his attention the whole day.
“I doubt you feel any regret.” You quip. “Handing me off to Lord Jeon like I mean nothing.”
You are goading him, you know this, and he falls for it every time. He blinks and pouts in that way you love so much, and his hands on your waist tighten. He pulls your body closer. Your breath stutters.
“That is nonsense, Your Majesty.” His nose brushes yours. “My first priority is always you.”
The air charges. You feel his breath hit your lips. You feel like your nerves are on fire, and you cannot wait anymore. You push forward to press your mouths together.
He is quick to kiss you back, one hand finding the back of your head so he can tilt your face just slightly. It allows him to kiss you deeper, more desperately, and you feel once again his yearning for this moment. You curse at yourself for doubting him for even one second, that he would deliberately be staying away from you for any reason. How dare you be uncertain about the one person that has never once failed you? Especially when he runs his tongue so reverently over your bottom lip, when he sucks lightly at the plush of it, when he finally invades your mouth, tastes you wholly and truly, your torso arching into him as he supports your weight. You whine into him and you feel, more than hear, his breath hitch. You want to scold yourself.
“I was a fool.” Your voice muffles into his mouth, but he hears you regardless. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be around me. I was afraid you would not be my Knight anymore.”
He freezes. His lips leave yours. His eyes, wide with shock and, to your dismay, hurt.
“Your Highness.” He resorts to your old title in his incredulity. His voice shakes. “I would never.”
You open your mouth to assure him. To tell him that you know, that you were merely paranoid and insecure. But he doesn’t wait. He sinks to both knees, leaving you speechless as you watch him. His hands never leave you, sliding to your hips, encasing them. His forehead meets your stomach. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribs.
“By my faith, my sword and my honor, I live to serve your person for as long as I draw breath.”
Your hands shake as they meet his shoulders. Broad, strong, and always steadfast. Reliable. Your fingers wander to his neck, up to his ears, his hair. Soft, silky tresses move through the gaps in your digits. He looks up slowly, letting your hands card through his dark locks. His eyelids flutter when you trace his cheekbones with your thumbs.
“Please, never doubt me.” He whispers. “I’m yours only. I will live and die for you. I will bleed for you.”
The heat from the hearth is not nearly equal to how his words set your soul on fire. Your lips part, your eyes gloss, and you say the words that you never, ever imagined yourself saying out loud, but fantasized about too often in the depths of the dark night.
“Seungcheol.” You look down at your Knight, on his knees before you. “Bed me.”
His eyes flicker, he leans forward and places a kiss over the satin of your dress, right over your navel. You feel your face burn.
“Are you sure, Your Majesty?” He whispers into the cloth. “That is a line neither of us can redraw.”
You have never felt more sure of any decision you have made in your life. You nod.
“I have never wanted anyone.” You confess. “Not even my own husband. Even on my wedding night, I was nothing but nervous and anxious. The first time I felt desire-”
You peer down at him. He watches you.
“-was when I watched you across the castle courtyard.”
Recognition passes over his features. Slowly, he stands, eyes never leaving yours. It seems like the dam has been broken on your scandalous thoughts, because you keep speaking.
“When you kissed me in the carriage, I wished for you to have me right there.” You can see his ears turn pink. His lips part. Your own face is hot beyond bearing. His grip on your sides tightens. “I have been starved for your touch only. Every night, I dream of having you in my bed with me. Seungcheol, you said you want me too. So please, take me.”
He does not answer. Not verbally, at least. When his lips meet yours again, the kiss is fiery in a way that ignites every vessel in your limbs. His hands leave your body only for his arms to wind around your completely, pulling you tightly against his. The metal pieces on his uniform dig into you, but you do not care as he kisses your breath away.
“My Queen.” Your breath stutters at how deep his voice is. “It would be my greatest honor.”
The ground drops from underneath your feet when strong arms wind around your torso and legs, lifting you up. You circle your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and nuzzle into his cheek, laying a small kiss on it when your affection for him overwhelms you. His skin is hot beneath your lips, near feverish, but you don’t let up. Your surroundings swim, and finally, you are being laid carefully down on your mattress, the silk sheets cool under your heated figure.
For a second, no one speaks. Seungcheol’s eyes travel over your face before dipping. A sheepish look flits across his face.
“Your garments are…. endlessly complicated.”
You can’t help but giggle, some of your nerves breaking at his words. You feel more comfortable when you sit up and slide over the edge of the bed to stand again. You turn your back to him, arm twisting back to point to the lace ups of your bodice.
“Here.”
You feel his hands tug and pull, the cloth loosening enough to slide apart, revealing the corset underneath. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and your face flushes once more. Your mind has barely caught up to the desire coursing through your body, but it hits you for a brief second. You are about to unclothe in front of a man, by his hands. Your heart races.
You feel Seungcheol’s fingers on your bare shoulders as he pushes the satin off them, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. A little more tugging, and the skirt around your hips comes loose, the full drapes plopping on the ground. You feel your body stiffen.
Instead of undoing your corset next, you feel prickling at your scalp as Seungcheol pulls out the many hair pins holding your tresses up. One by one, they make small clicking sounds as he places them on the wooden table by your bedside. You feel the relief of loosened hair again. It brushes your shoulders, your back. You feel the corners of your lips twitch.
“I would almost assume you’ve done this before.” You comment. You feel his breath on your shoulder again as he laughs.
“Never.” He replies. “I was sworn to celibacy when I was brought up to the castle.”
That surprises you. While the thought of Seungcheol being with any woman makes your chest squeeze with disgust, you never expected him to be uninterested in them. He is a man, after all, a very attractive one at that, and you’ve heard many a woman in this very castle who has entertained the idea of him in her head.
“But I have watched you.” He pulls you out of your thoughts. “I’ve watched the way this fabric clings to you, the way your pins keep your hair from moving even an inch. Every part of you, I have gazed upon with scandalous intentions. I hope you can forgive me.”
That gets to you. It makes your breath hitch. Faintly, you feel his touch, a finger tracing down the line of your spine, just over the crisp material of your corset. A tug, and you feel the first ring loosen.
“What do you think about?” You urge him on. You want to know more.
Another tug. You can draw a deeper breath.
“This.” Seungcheol whispers. “Your skin. I always imagined it to be so soft. Unblemished. Untouched.” His hand runs over the tender lines that the corset has left on you. You shiver visibly.
Three more tugs sets the corset loose. Your torso relaxes, and you reach up to pull it away. It falls on top of the mess of skirts surrounding your feet. Soft hands run over your waist, just over the last, thin garment that separates you from him. You take in a shaky inhale when his lips press small kisses on your shoulder, his hands exploring. You can feel the heat of his body on your back. Your heart still hammering, you gather the courage to turn around.
Seungcheol’s eyes are soft, like glowing embers, as they run over your body. You distract yourself by reaching up, tugging slightly on the lapels of his jacket. He understands, undoing the gold buttons and tugging the heavy jacket off, revealing a plain, black top underneath. Even without all the glamor of gold adorning him, he looks just as handsome, all smooth lines and beautiful, pale skin.
Arms wind around your waist, and Seungcheol lifts you from between the mess of satin cloth surrounding your feet and ankles, plopping you on the bed instead. You hold tightly to him, making his own body follow yours as your back meets the mattress. You can’t stop staring, barely blinking, because you don’t want to miss a single moment of this. There is no anxiety, no nerves, only heated anticipation and adoration.
But Seungcheol’s touch is heavier, more longing than adoration. There’s reverence in it as he kisses you again, his legs framing your hips, one elbow digging into the bed beside your face while his other hand runs down your body to reach the hem of your chemise, brushing the outside of your thigh. Something intense burns in his touch, in his lips as they press near harshly against yours, like he has a point to prove.
“My Queen.” He rasps again. You barely hold back a whimper. “This is more to me than just bedding you. This…. this is worship.”
His lips leave your mouth, trailing down your chin. His tongue peeks out, runs in a wet line down the column of your throat as your head leans back. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it. His hand dips under the hem of your slip, pushes it up to brush over your bare hip. It traces the line of your bottoms, the last piece of cloth between him and where you need him the most.
He speaks with every press of his lips into your neck, every dig of his teeth into your skin.
“Your honor is my cause.” He whispers. He licks over your carotid as it jumps wildly. “Your safety is my vigil.”
His hand dips into the waistband of your bottoms. It traces over your hipbone, moves to the center, until you feel his palm run just over your mound. “Your word is my law.”
You realise, even through the thick fog slowly settling over your head, that these are not random words. It is his oath of fealty, the one that he took while on one knee before you when he became your Knight.
“Not for glory, nor reward, nor land do I swear this, but because my heart knows no truer allegiance than to you.”
You moan. A shaky, thin sound that fills the air, muffled only by the heavy curtains surrounding your four poster bed, keeping you and Seungcheol hidden from the rest of the world. The sound seems to egg him on. His fingertips dig just lightly into the soft give of your stomach. His lips lay a final kiss under your ear before trailing back to your waiting mouth. When his eyes meet yours again, they are devoid of irises, dilated with his arousal, pitch black pools that you would willingly fall into.
You will never question his loyalty ever again.
“May I unclothe you?” He asks, breath hitting your lips. You give him a half-smile.
“That’s what you have been doing already.”
When he smiles, you see minute crinkles on the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen them this close, and you fight the urge to pluck at them with your mouth.
“This will leave you bear, Your Majesty.” He sighs. “I fear myself not worthy of that sight.”
You shake your head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It’s silky soft as always, and you watch his eyelids flutter when your nails scratch his scalp.
“No one is worthy except you.”
When your chemise is pulled up, off your body and discarded to the side, you feel your skin burn. Seungcheol’s mouth parts, his eyes are hungry in a way you have never seen before. He lets out a small noise, his first of the night, a low groan from within the depths of his chest.
“I’m not worthy.” He repeats. “But I am weak.”
He leans down, his lips brushing over your collarbone. Your breath hitches. They travel down, between the valley of your breasts, tracing your sternum. They deviate to the side, sliding over the swell of your chest to reach your nipple. You gasp when his tongue runs over the hardened nub. He pauses for a split second, then encloses his lips around it.
He explores your body slowly, sucking, nipping, licking, kissing. He pays attention to every skin cell, every hair follicle, and anything that escapes his mouth is captured by his quick fingers. His forefinger and thumb pinches and rolls your unoccupied nipple between them until it is perked and tingly. He sucks so hard you are afraid he will somehow draw milk, against all logic. He moans into them like they are quenching his thirst, and the ticklish, electric sensation in your lower stomach intensifies. When you squirm and your legs twitch, you are horrified to realise that something wet is building up between your legs.
But you can’t stop it. You don’t want to. If he stops now, you might cry.
He keeps going until you’re so sensitive it almost hurts. When he pulls away, finally, he blows air on them. And you cry out.
“Sshh.” He reaches up to press his forehead to yours. “You make such pretty sounds, but being too loud will have consequences.”
You shake your head. “It’s only Soonyoung outside.”
Seungcheol hums. “And what? You want him to know?”
You flush at the thought. Seungcheol’s eyes widen just a little. A thick eyebrow ticks up.
“Oh?” His voice is smooth like butter. You clench subconsciously. More wetness dampens your core. He reaches down again, tracing his tongue over the shell of your ear.
“Does Her Majesty want the guard to hear her getting worshipped?” His breath hits your ear and sends shivers down your spine. You arch into him, feeling your bare, sensitive nipples brush his clothed chest. “Do you think he deserves to hear the beautiful sounds you make when I touch intimate parts of you?”
You can barely get your words out, your head spinning. You can feel Seungcheol’s palm splay over your stomach, traveling down at a torturously slow pace.
“You are the only one who gets to touch.” You whimper. “Maybe he should know that.”
A chuckle. A deep, throaty sound that shoots like lightening to the area between your legs. Seungcheol bypasses your core and instead runs his hand down your thigh to grip your knee. Finally, he tugs at it, pulling it apart.
Cold air hits the heated area. Seungcheol shifts, maneuvering himself so that he settles between your now open legs. You flush at the thought of being open to him like this, but lust eggs you on. You watch as he stares, and nearly moan when his tongue runs over his bottom lip, eyeing your nude body hungrily.
“May I taste you?” He asks.
Your eyes widen. You feel yourself stiffen slightly.
“Down…. down there?”
It looks like a struggle for him to tear his eyes away so he can look at you. He nods. You hesitate. You’re unsure of why he would want to do that. It seems he reads your mind.
“Your nectar, your essence, just a taste of it will sustain me, Your Majesty.” He rasps. His voice is pleading. Your throat tightens at the desperation in his tone. “I beg of you. And I promise, I will bring you to heights of pleasure you’ve never known before. Will you trust me?”
That’s not even a question. There is no one within these four walls, and even beyond them, that you trust more than him. So you nod, because on the question of trust, you will never doubt Seungcheol.
He positively perks up at your granted permission. When he slides down your body, your heartbeat picks up again. You try to breathe deeply so you don’t tense up as he carefully and gently pulls your thighs apart. It feels…. dirty….. but something about it thrills you too. The thought of his mouth on your most private parts is scandalous, but something in your loins burns at the notion. When you feel his breath on your lower lips, you jump.
Seungcheol chuckles. “Relax.”
You try to take a deep breath, but your Knight chooses that moment to kiss your folds. He starts soft and slow, just running his lips over them, pressing small kisses and nips on them. Then, you feel something hot and wet, his tongue, poke through the slit, small licks that make your lips part as you gasp. You stare at the delicate maroon cloth above you that is draped over the frame of your four poster bed, eyes nearly rolling when he finally licks a thick stripe from your twitching entrance to the apex of your lips. You whine.
“Good?” His breath hits your wet core again. You nod, unable to speak.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
His hold on your thighs tightens. He pushes them apart more, leaving you open before him, and dives in again, lapping over you hungrily. His lips close around your sensitive bundle of nerves and suck. You almost scream, clamping your mouth shut with your hands before you can. Despite the thrill of everything, you don’t really want anyone to hear you. Your eyes water, your features pinching as waves of pleasure roll up from your cunt and through your body. Every one of your reactions spurs Seungcheol on even more. He licks and sucks like his life depends on it, like he’s hungry for your taste. Maybe he is, because he groans into the sopping wet mess. His tongue runs down until it pokes at your hole. You tense at the feeling, and then the wet appendage slides in, poking in and out until your opening is loose enough for him to lick your insides too. His nose nudges your clit, and your whine is muffled into your hands.
Every time his hair brushes your inner thighs, every time you feel his hands pull your legs open and keep them there, or when his broad shoulders brush the back of your legs, you flush, overwhelmed at the thought of him devouring you like this. The knot in your core feels like it is snowballing, getting bigger and bigger, tighter, until one of your hands leaves your mouth so you can claw at Seungcheol’s shirt and shoulder. You kick, try to squirm away as the pleasure becomes near blinding, but his hold on you only tightens. He holds you down, sucks at your nub over and over until you can’t warn him anymore.
You wail, muffled by the back of your hand as the dam breaks. Tears escape the corners of your eyes and slide down the sides of your face. Your back arches off the bed, your entire body tightening and releasing as it overwhelms you like a tidal wave washing over your writhing body. His lips don’t slow, his tongue never rests, and he keeps going until you whine, exhausted, and push him again, less forcefully this time, since your limbs feel like liquid. This time, he finally pulls away, sitting up and lowering your shaking legs carefully to the bed.
He is a vision.
His face is flushed entirely pink, but particularly dark on the apples of his cheeks. Despite the cold air, sweat has built up on his temples because of the sweltering heat between your thighs. His lips are swollen and dark, covered with shiny, clear liquid. It swaths over his jaw and neck too, drenching him, but he seems unbothered by it. His tongue pokes out to run over his lips, lapping up whatever he can find on his face. Your own feels like it’s on fire.
“Good?” He asks again.
You don’t even know what to say. You just nod jerkily, trying to catch your breath. Seungcheol chuckles.
“I dream of this, you know?” He says, sliding up your trembling body. “When other men speak of the women they bed, I wonder about you. How you would taste on my tongue. I wake up from those dreams overwhelmed and aroused, always.”
He settles between your legs again, pressing his forehead to yours. “No dream can compare to reality.”
When he kisses you, you taste yourself on him. Not exactly sweet, but not sour either, and you wonder if he is exaggerating. But his actions and his words say otherwise, and you believe him completely. You feel his hands massage your inner thighs, digging pleasantly into the aching muscle. They slide up to the junction of where your legs meet your hips, one hand finding your twitching core again.
“We can stop if you want.” He offers. “It might be too much for you.”
You shake your head. “Want you, Seungcheol.”
He moans, nods, and his fingers trace your slit to prod at your entrance. You’re drenched, half with your own release and half from his spit, so he circles the opening with the pad of his middle finger before slowly breaching it. Your jaw goes slack.
He watches every reaction carefully, making sure you are in no pain as his finger slides in and out, in and out. Just one, but he’s still so careful. He slides it to the base of his knuckles, pauses for a split second, and then curls it up. You gasp.
This sensation is entirely different than the one before. While that felt unimaginably good, this hits deeper, like it is making you feel good from the inside out. Subconsciously, your legs spread even more, like you want to pull him in further. You pant, eyelids fluttering, hips undulating. Seungcheol’s keen eyes follow every movement.
“More?”
You nod vigorously, making his lips tick up a little. He slides another finger in, joining the first one in pumping carefully in and out. His fingers are thick, and now you feel the stretch on your gummy walls. He takes it slow, letting you adjust. You moan quietly when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing little circles on it to make the stretch feel better. Slowly, the slight twinge of pain disappears, replaced by pleasure even more amplified than before.
Seungcheol’s other arm, that he is using to prop himself up by your side, shifts a little. His hand finds your hair, splayed around your head like a dark halo, and caresses tenderly through the strands. His fingers, buried deep in your cunt, curl and prod, until you yelp at the spot they hit, and then he rubs exclusively over it until you’re whimpering and crying, one hand gripping his wrist like a vice while the other fists his shirt.
He adds a third finger. You have no time to warn him before your back arches, your eyes roll, and another high assaults your every sense. It is even more intense than the first one, and you nearly weep. He uses his own weight to keep your body from jerking too much, and he whispers gentle praises in your ear as you ride the waves. When it wanes, you’re left breathless and shaky, nearly disoriented.
“Beautiful.” He breathes. “You’re a sight no one deserves to lay eyes on.”
When his fingers pull out, they make a squelching sound that leaves you flushed. But you’re caught even more off guard when Seungcheol immediately plops them into his mouth, licking them clean of all your juices. He groans in approval, licking over any that runs down the back of his hand. You swallow tightly as you watch him. Heat stirs in you at how handsome he looks. Slightly disheveled, but endlessly dreamy like this. You want to see all of him.
“Take your clothes off.” You manage to get out.
Seungcheol has spoken a lot about thinking of you, but he is unaware that you’ve thought extensively of him too. When he tugs his shirt off, you’re reminded of the times you’ve seen his cheeks glow bright in the sun, imagining how his bare shoulders would look under that same light, just as pale as the rest of him. When he undoes his slacks and tugs them off, your mouth drops, and you remember imagining this too, in the very depths of the night, shameful, taboo thoughts of what he looks like completely naked. You knew he would be glorious nude, his broad build visible even through his clothes, but you never imagined this, never anticipated that he would be so big below the belt. Long and curved, thicker than you could have ever conjured in your inexperienced mind. It is flushed dark, leaking at the tip and running in a clear liquid down the mushroom head. When he wraps a hand around it and tugs, you hear his breath tremble in relief.
You don’t think before reaching down, your fingertips brushing his hand, sliding under it so you can replicate his movements. He groans, shakes his head.
“You don’t have to-” He chokes, and his back almost curls in on himself when you squeeze him slightly. You bite your lip as you watch him, how his face crumples and his moans rise an octave. Something runs through you like a thrill, a form of power, in your ability to reduce him to this.
Your mouth waters. You wonder if you can taste him like he tasted you.
Before you can ask, he shuffles forward again, tugging your legs up to settle closer to your core. Anticipation curls in your stomach at the thought of being filled with something so thick and girthy, dread mixed with excitement. Your hand is still moving, almost on its own accord, when he finally takes over, squeezing at the base a little before he runs it up your sensitive slit. You twitch.
He looks up at you in question one last time. You nod.
The first breach has you sharply inhaling, gritting your teeth as his head pops inside. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks.
“Relax.” He whispers, thumb circling your clit. You breathe out, trying to soften your core, and he slides in a bit more. He does it little by little, playing with your body to take your mind off it, until you feel the last inch sink into you. His hips meet yours, skin flush together. Finally, he moans wantonly.
“Lords above.” He chokes. “You’re…. fuck.”
You almost gasp. Seungcheol has never sworn before you. Never. His lack of inhibition now makes you whimper, your hands clenching in the silk sheets under you. His hips twitch, then he pulls out, almost to the very tip, sinking in slowly again. He watches it with barely disguised awe, doing it again and again, watching your hole expand with every slide of him to the base. Your eyes roll, revelling in the sensation of being filled like this, his shaft pressing into every part of your spongy walls as it drags in and out.
Minutes pass, and he slowly picks up the pace. You gasp and moan, back arching. You hear the plop noise his skin makes when it comes in contact with yours, the stretch and give of your pussy as he fucks into you faster and faster. The bed curtains swish as the bed moves under the force of him. You can see his muscles shift and flex with every movement, and the sight of him, combined with every movement, makes you whimper and cry.
“Seungcheol.” Your voice trembles.
“You feel so good.” He gasps, beats you to the punch. “How long I have wanted this, my Queen. How terribly I have wished to feel you wrapped around me like this.”
Your jaw goes slack when he hits the same spot with his cock that his fingers found not too long ago. You clench hard. His voice cracks.
“Dreamed of this for so long.” He babbles. “You’re tighter than anything. I can’t believe- can’t imagine-”
When his hands give out, you feel his weight on your chest, his arms sliding under your body to hug you tightly to his own. A pleasant feeling, bare skin against bare skin, and his heart pounds so hard you can perceive it through your own chest.
“-I’ve been the only one to feel this.” His pace turns frantic. “No one else. Just me.”
You nod, even though his face is buried in your neck and he can’t see you. “Only you.”
He moans into your sweaty skin, laps at it with his tongue. He ruts into you like he’s desperate for it.
“Only me. I get to have your body like this. Your pretty cunt, all mine. My Queen, can I fuck you like this every day? I can’t go without it, not after knowing. I must have you. I must have you-”
When you come, it is with a sob that you muffle in his bare shoulder, your teeth digging harshly into his skin. His pace stutters and he curses again, words you have never heard before but can tell are not meant for public speech, as well as more praises for how well you take him, how you’ve molded your pussy to his shape, how your body will recognise him now, how much he loves you….
He floods your insides with white hot liquid, and you bask in the feeling of it. His flesh trembles under your splayed palms. He ruts into you, slower, less intense now, just as needy, as he slowly comes down. The thick, strained cords of muscle in his back gradually relax under your touch as your fingertips dance over him. Your breaths slow, regulating as the seconds tick by.
All is silent. He presses soft kisses to your neck. Finally, his arms loosen and slide out from under you, separating your bodies enough for him to look into your eyes. His are soft and pliant, warm, sleepy. When he smiles, it is lazy and slow, softer than you’ve ever seen on him. You giggle, body feeling pleasantly heavy.
When he pulls out and stands, you feel strangely empty, turning on your side as your sore muscles relax. You blink as you watch him turn to grab the sheets on your bed to cover your naked body.
“You have a tattoo.” You state.
Seungcheol smiles a bit sheepishly, nodding. “It is unusual, I’m aware. I got it a long time ago, during a trip to a foreign land when I was younger.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, standing. Your eyes linger on the dark tree etched just below the back of his neck. It looks sturdy, and it shifts when he moves.
“Drink and bad decisions.” He mumbles. “I am just grateful it can be hidden easily.”
Your fingers itch to trace it with your hands. “I like it.”
He turns to you quizzically. “You do?”
You merely nod and smile. His eyes twinkle.
Seungcheol putters around the room as you curl into the sheets and watch him. He pours a glass of water, downing it and pouring one for you as well, which he gently coaxes down your parched throat. You watch him gather your discarded dress and splay it over your armchair. You wave your hand at it in dismissal.
“Eunhee will take care of it in the morning.” You mumble.
He finds your night dress fairly easily, and helps you slip into it. Every movement with him feels natural, even though the act of him handling your clothes and dressing you is deeply intimate. Nothing can compare to what you two just did while tangled up in each other’s limbs, so this all seems trivial. You pout a little when you watch him tug his clothes on, and he only chuckles at the sight.
“I can’t be here in the morning, Your Majesty.” He explains, seating himself on the edge of the mattress to run an affectionate hand over your hair. “I’m almost certain Soonyoung heard everything, but we can trust him completely. However, I’m not sure things will fare well for us when your steward shows up tomorrow and finds me here.”
You make a face and huff a little. Seungcheol lays a soft kiss on your cheek and stands up. Searching for his boots.
“Tomorrow night, then?” You ask instead, remembering the slew of words and sentences he threw out during your tryst about getting to do this every day. The thought of it already excites you, and the way he smiles, the cute indent in his cheek amplified, it seems he feels the same.
“Tomorrow night.” He promises.
When he’s ready to leave, he leans over you and kisses you one last time, deep and intense, his hands splaying over your waist and sides, gripping any part of you he can find. You tug at his hair, tongue gliding wetly over his as he groans into your mouth, muffling your own whimpers. When he pulls away, you feel dizzy.
“Tell Eunhee to do something about your neck.” He rasps, and you feel his thumb run over the skin at the junction of your shoulder, inches above your collarbone.
When your handmaid shows up the next morning, you are sheepish. She says nothing except to give you a tiny smile, powdering you more than she usually would, in an effort to hide the dark blotch your Knight left marring your skin. When you question her lack of reaction, she just shrugs, but something clever twinkles in her eye.
“Soonyoung might have mentioned something when he got home this morning.” She quips. You can’t help but feel giddy and mildly embarrassed.
“You won’t tell?”
You know she won’t. She is your most trusted apart from Seungcheol. Her face softens as she laces you up, and you see her shake her head over your shoulder in the mirror that you stand in front of.
“You deserve to feel happy.” She replies, simply. You don’t have time to say anything more when there’s a knock on your door and Sir Jeon walks in with the agenda for the day in his hand.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 8.5k
warnings (for this chapter): mild angst, some historical inaccuracy, mentions of death and conspiracy, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, mentions of war, forbidden love.
series masterlist
The bells begin ringing at sunrise.
They are not celebratory. They are muted and grave, signalling mourning. The air is cold, nearly nipping. Winter has fallen suddenly over the country in the last few weeks, and it brings with it an unnerving chill that settles in your bones.
You sit in front of your fireplace, watching the flames dance in it. It’s very early. Eunhee isn’t here. Yet you are awake, still in your night clothes, imagining how the cathedral might look like right now in the bleak winter morning under the gray, cloudy sky.
It is the day of your husband’s coronation.
Seungcheol told you last night about how rushed preparations have been, and how muted the ceremony will be. Black cloth draped over the cathedral doors, noblemen in furs of muted colors, hushed whispers as everyone mourns. The Prince, dressed in a cloak hastily fitted to him, the archbishop, who will conduct the ceremony in quick, sharp sentences. Nothing grand, nothing ceremonial, out of respect for their late King and his untimely demise.
You can imagine it all in your head. That is all you can do, since you will not be there physically.
You have always known you are a controversial figure within the walls of this castle, and you have never minded this fact. You do not care. Your controversy was your weapon to protect yourself from endless hurt. So it came to you as no surprise when Seungcheol told you that you would either be placed far back in the cathedral, or you would not be physically present for the ceremony at all. You had then said you would like to be left out. Rather that than sitting away from everyone like discarded jewelry. So here you are, in your chambers, awaiting Eunhee.
Over the last week, seamstresses have worked tirelessly to prepare your new attire. Grander, deeper colors, heavier cloth, what would fit a Queen Consort. You would not be officially crowned, since circumstances are so dire, but the statement is clear. You are now the ruling Queen, while your mother in law remains so only in name, no longer reigning. She has done nothing but weep and mourn her husband’s death, a true spectacle considering she never cared for him. But she did care for her place as the reigning Queen, and you know that is driving her grief more than the King’s death.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.
The castle is restless, on edge. It has been since the King’s death. Suspicions are high, towards the court councillors and towards the Prince, now King. For a man with no health concerns suddenly being afflicted by humors of the brain and meeting with Death is a pill difficult to swallow, and that leaves everyone questioning. No one dared speak it in open air though, since war is imminent and no matter what, a new King is needed. All mouths remain shut, but eyes shift. They gleam with mistrust.
Seungcheol still suspects your husband, almost explicitly so. He stays by your side as much as Royal duty and war preparation allows him. When he is not there, someone else always is. Someone he trusts. Often, it is Soonyoung, Eunhee’s husband, who stays outside your door on Seungcheol’s strict instructions. But others from the Royal Guard are there when Soonyoung can’t be. You are never left alone.
In an unprecedented move, Jeonghan advises you to dismiss your ladies-in-waiting, as a security measure. Everyone knows there is a certain level of distrust between you and them, and it has been there since the beginning. It would be very easy to weave them into a conspiracy against you since they have no loyalty to you.
“Losing the Queen Consort at a time like this could be disastrous.” He had said when he came to see you in your study. Seungcheol sat next to you, tense and uneasy with the conversation.
“While you are not yet with child, you are a symbol for the people that they will get an heir. We cannot lose that symbol. It’s all about optics.”
You wanted to quip back that you will never carry the heir for this Throne, but you kept your mouth shut.
“Nothing will happen to Her Majesty.” Seungcheol’s tone had been hard and unquestionable. “She’s under my protection. No one will lay a hand on her.”
Your heart had skipped a beat at his words. Jeonghan just smirked in a way that unnerved you.
Seungcheol has been tense and worried since the morning of the late King’s death. The possibility of war has become near certain, which puts him in a very intensive role as a garrison commander. The threat to your well being has added on top, leaving him with too much on his plate. Your words of placation don’t do much, even when he says he is fine. His shoulders carry his stress, tense and bunched, and a thin line lives permanently between his eyebrows, his lips pulled taut and face unmoving. You miss the softness of him, but you have not said as much. You do not want to burden him with any more than he already has.
Court that morning, after the coronation, is an important event for you. It is not just Eunhee, but another handmaid as well who helps dress you. The fabric is satin, the monarchy colors of deep maroon and gold, and you have to breathe deeper than you normally would. While you have always dressed to the nines, it will be even more grand now, reflecting your position as Queen Consort. You watch yourself in the mirror, heart beating fast. It hits you, for a brief second, that you have not come to terms with anything either. It has all been so sudden, so explosive. You are now reigning Queen. A controversial, foreign Queen, yes, but a Queen nonetheless.
Last night, before the Prince’s coronation, you had been introduced to Jeon Wonwoo, your new steward. He was a tall man with a stiff posture and raven black hair. He bowed to you deeply, dressed in court attire. Round spectacles set in a metal frame hung with a silver chain around his neck.
“Your Majesty.” His voice was a low, soft baritone. You nodded and gave a small smile.
“Lord Jeon is one of the Court’s most trusted.” Seungcheol had explained. “He will be taking care of your schedules, your personal affects, your finances and your appointments. He will handle anything you might need.”
This is what threw you off. Because before Wonwoo, all of this was handled by Seungcheol.
You had not said anything, just nodding as you willed your throat to not tighten. You understand that Seungcheol is overburdened, but he has been dedicated exclusively to you for the entire time you have lived in this castle. The thought of him not being around as much kills you. Especially after you’ve crossed boundaries with him, felt the heat of his touch. His lips.
You banish the thoughts from your head, blinking hard. Eunhee is still flitting around, making sure everything is perfect. Finally, when she steps back and bows, you take a deep breath.
Eunhee lets Wonwoo in five minutes later. He bows deeply. His spectacles are perched on the bridge of his nose. He peers at the parchment in his hands, informing you of the Coronation ending, and Court proceedings for the day. You bite the inside of your cheek and resist the urge to ask him where Seungcheol is. You wanted him here.
Your steward walks three paces behind you as you make your way to Court. Castle workers and staff bow deeply as you pass, the now reigning Queen. Your position in Court, your seat, is different now too. As you make your way to it, you feel like something is shifting in the air. Something is changing. Like one chapter closing and another beginning. This is the start of something new.
Yet you don’t feel invigorated.
Court is eventful, and you try to keep up with as much of it as possible. There is still a level of tension in the air, and your husband, now King, behaves in a way that raises eyebrows. There is not enough mourning in his words, not enough respect, and you can see the way his widowed mother’s jaw tightens, the way her eyes glisten. You have no love in your heart for her, but today, you feel it. The child she birthed, the only thing that gave her purpose, is crass to her and her former Crown. You cannot imagine how that must feel.
You vow to yourself to never let your only purpose be to bear an heir. You vow to yourself that you will care for more than just that.
You spot Seungcheol in Court along with other Knights. He is dressed in his ceremonials, maroon jacket and many golden medals embellishing his chest. You don’t look too long, turning away when something twinges in your heart. That same feeling from this morning. The dread of him pulling away. This does feel like a new chapter, but you didn’t want the old one to end so soon. Before it even properly began.
Breakfast is sordid, and you half-heartedly participate. No one but the King is unsuitably jovial. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you have to fight back the humorous yet horrific thought of what he has to put up with in recent weeks. As Chief Councillor, things cannot be easy, especially when he is advising someone who refuses to take any of it. You do not wish such a tedious task on anyone.
Wonwoo guides you through church obligations, staff changes and castle responsibilities for the rest of the day. The Queen Consort does, of course, hold her own Court. Surprisingly, you enjoy it. After being so helpless and discarded for so long, even something as obligatory and largely unimportant as a Queen’s Court is like a gift for you. It is little power, but it is coming to you after an entire life of having none, so you cherish it.
Part of the reason is that Seungcheol is there, as your Knight.
You do not interact with him directly, engaged with your clerks, noblewomen and church officials. But having him in your vicinity calms you. You keep your eyes off him, since any deviance would immediately be noticed in a setting like this. You keep things short and simple, not a fan of dawdling and dragging. Your steward seems to approve, nodding once it is over and you look at him expectantly.
“You did splendidly, Your Majesty.” He praises you. “To-the-point, but not crude. You hold authority. I am sure Court attendees were most surprised. You will have their respect in no time.”
You glow at the praise. Maybe this can be your purpose. Maybe something you do will actually hold weight.
Towards the time of sundown, you are left weary. It has been a busy day, and so you finally retire to your chambers. Wonwoo takes his leave, and you sink into your armchair, basking in the heat of the fireplace, just as you had started this day out, except this time, you are in heavy robes rather than your night dress.
You sit there for what feels like hours, but is likely only a few minutes. You think over everything that has happened, and how different things will be moving forward. Today was a taste of the rest of your life, you believe. And while part of you is happy at how things went, one thing is not to your liking, and you want to change that.
You rise from your seat and walk to the door, pulling it open.
Soonyoung is outside with another guard whose name you do not know. They both bow deeply to you.
“Soonyoung,” you speak, “can you please find Sir Choi for me? Tell him it is urgent.”
Soonyoung blinks and nods enthusiastically. “Of course, Your Majesty. Right away.”
He gestures to the other guard, who immediately sets off.
“When he arrives, send him in.” You continue. “No one else in or out. Tell Eunhee I will see her in the morning.”
Soonyoung seems surprised but bows regardless. You close the door and glide towards the fireplace again. You don’t sit, instead standing before it, letting it warm your cold fingertips. You count fifteen minutes before you hear a knock on your door. It slides open.
“Your Majesty.”
Your eyes flutter at the sound of his voice, like you’ve yearned for it. You close them briefly before turning around to look.
Seungcheol is dressed still in Court attire, padded jacket, slacks and leather shoes. His hair is parted down the middle, brushed off his forehead in dark curtains. A look of concern dawns on his handsome face. He looks around briefly, like he’s assessing the surroundings to find if something is wrong.
“You summoned me.” He closes the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”
You nod and smile, but it is bittersweet and barely there. “I pulled you from duty, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have. But I could no longer take it.”
That familiar dread comes back, encroaching on your heart as he watches you.
“I miss you terribly.”
You see the exact moment his face softens, the stoney expression melting into something more regretful. You watch him hesitate before he slowly reaches back, twisting his wrist. You hear a soft click as the door locks. Your heart skips.
Seungcheol moves closer to where you stand, joining you in front of the fireplace. You almost stiffen when his hands find your waist, but the relief is immediate. You sigh into him, his forehead meeting yours. His familiar scent floods your nose.
“I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty.” He mumbles. “I’ve neglected my most sacred oath to you. That is my mistake to bear.”
You feel his hair brush over your forehead. When you peer up at him, his eyes are soft and sure, like wet earth. You purse your lips, feeling particularly petulant after being near him but not having his attention the whole day.
“I doubt you feel any regret.” You quip. “Handing me off to Lord Jeon like I mean nothing.”
You are goading him, you know this, and he falls for it every time. He blinks and pouts in that way you love so much, and his hands on your waist tighten. He pulls your body closer. Your breath stutters.
“That is nonsense, Your Majesty.” His nose brushes yours. “My first priority is always you.”
The air charges. You feel his breath hit your lips. You feel like your nerves are on fire, and you cannot wait anymore. You push forward to press your mouths together.
He is quick to kiss you back, one hand finding the back of your head so he can tilt your face just slightly. It allows him to kiss you deeper, more desperately, and you feel once again his yearning for this moment. You curse at yourself for doubting him for even one second, that he would deliberately be staying away from you for any reason. How dare you be uncertain about the one person that has never once failed you? Especially when he runs his tongue so reverently over your bottom lip, when he sucks lightly at the plush of it, when he finally invades your mouth, tastes you wholly and truly, your torso arching into him as he supports your weight. You whine into him and you feel, more than hear, his breath hitch. You want to scold yourself.
“I was a fool.” Your voice muffles into his mouth, but he hears you regardless. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be around me. I was afraid you would not be my Knight anymore.”
He freezes. His lips leave yours. His eyes, wide with shock and, to your dismay, hurt.
“Your Highness.” He resorts to your old title in his incredulity. His voice shakes. “I would never.”
You open your mouth to assure him. To tell him that you know, that you were merely paranoid and insecure. But he doesn’t wait. He sinks to both knees, leaving you speechless as you watch him. His hands never leave you, sliding to your hips, encasing them. His forehead meets your stomach. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribs.
“By my faith, my sword and my honor, I live to serve your person for as long as I draw breath.”
Your hands shake as they meet his shoulders. Broad, strong, and always steadfast. Reliable. Your fingers wander to his neck, up to his ears, his hair. Soft, silky tresses move through the gaps in your digits. He looks up slowly, letting your hands card through his dark locks. His eyelids flutter when you trace his cheekbones with your thumbs.
“Please, never doubt me.” He whispers. “I’m yours only. I will live and die for you. I will bleed for you.”
The heat from the hearth is not nearly equal to how his words set your soul on fire. Your lips part, your eyes gloss, and you say the words that you never, ever imagined yourself saying out loud, but fantasized about too often in the depths of the dark night.
“Seungcheol.” You look down at your Knight, on his knees before you. “Bed me.”
His eyes flicker, he leans forward and places a kiss over the satin of your dress, right over your navel. You feel your face burn.
“Are you sure, Your Majesty?” He whispers into the cloth. “That is a line neither of us can redraw.”
You have never felt more sure of any decision you have made in your life. You nod.
“I have never wanted anyone.” You confess. “Not even my own husband. Even on my wedding night, I was nothing but nervous and anxious. The first time I felt desire-”
You peer down at him. He watches you.
“-was when I watched you across the castle courtyard.”
Recognition passes over his features. Slowly, he stands, eyes never leaving yours. It seems like the dam has been broken on your scandalous thoughts, because you keep speaking.
“When you kissed me in the carriage, I wished for you to have me right there.” You can see his ears turn pink. His lips part. Your own face is hot beyond bearing. His grip on your sides tightens. “I have been starved for your touch only. Every night, I dream of having you in my bed with me. Seungcheol, you said you want me too. So please, take me.”
He does not answer. Not verbally, at least. When his lips meet yours again, the kiss is fiery in a way that ignites every vessel in your limbs. His hands leave your body only for his arms to wind around your completely, pulling you tightly against his. The metal pieces on his uniform dig into you, but you do not care as he kisses your breath away.
“My Queen.” Your breath stutters at how deep his voice is. “It would be my greatest honor.”
The ground drops from underneath your feet when strong arms wind around your torso and legs, lifting you up. You circle your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and nuzzle into his cheek, laying a small kiss on it when your affection for him overwhelms you. His skin is hot beneath your lips, near feverish, but you don’t let up. Your surroundings swim, and finally, you are being laid carefully down on your mattress, the silk sheets cool under your heated figure.
For a second, no one speaks. Seungcheol’s eyes travel over your face before dipping. A sheepish look flits across his face.
“Your garments are…. endlessly complicated.”
You can’t help but giggle, some of your nerves breaking at his words. You feel more comfortable when you sit up and slide over the edge of the bed to stand again. You turn your back to him, arm twisting back to point to the lace ups of your bodice.
“Here.”
You feel his hands tug and pull, the cloth loosening enough to slide apart, revealing the corset underneath. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and your face flushes once more. Your mind has barely caught up to the desire coursing through your body, but it hits you for a brief second. You are about to unclothe in front of a man, by his hands. Your heart races.
You feel Seungcheol’s fingers on your bare shoulders as he pushes the satin off them, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. A little more tugging, and the skirt around your hips comes loose, the full drapes plopping on the ground. You feel your body stiffen.
Instead of undoing your corset next, you feel prickling at your scalp as Seungcheol pulls out the many hair pins holding your tresses up. One by one, they make small clicking sounds as he places them on the wooden table by your bedside. You feel the relief of loosened hair again. It brushes your shoulders, your back. You feel the corners of your lips twitch.
“I would almost assume you’ve done this before.” You comment. You feel his breath on your shoulder again as he laughs.
“Never.” He replies. “I was sworn to celibacy when I was brought up to the castle.”
That surprises you. While the thought of Seungcheol being with any woman makes your chest squeeze with disgust, you never expected him to be uninterested in them. He is a man, after all, a very attractive one at that, and you’ve heard many a woman in this very castle who has entertained the idea of him in her head.
“But I have watched you.” He pulls you out of your thoughts. “I’ve watched the way this fabric clings to you, the way your pins keep your hair from moving even an inch. Every part of you, I have gazed upon with scandalous intentions. I hope you can forgive me.”
That gets to you. It makes your breath hitch. Faintly, you feel his touch, a finger tracing down the line of your spine, just over the crisp material of your corset. A tug, and you feel the first ring loosen.
“What do you think about?” You urge him on. You want to know more.
Another tug. You can draw a deeper breath.
“This.” Seungcheol whispers. “Your skin. I always imagined it to be so soft. Unblemished. Untouched.” His hand runs over the tender lines that the corset has left on you. You shiver visibly.
Three more tugs sets the corset loose. Your torso relaxes, and you reach up to pull it away. It falls on top of the mess of skirts surrounding your feet. Soft hands run over your waist, just over the last, thin garment that separates you from him. You take in a shaky inhale when his lips press small kisses on your shoulder, his hands exploring. You can feel the heat of his body on your back. Your heart still hammering, you gather the courage to turn around.
Seungcheol’s eyes are soft, like glowing embers, as they run over your body. You distract yourself by reaching up, tugging slightly on the lapels of his jacket. He understands, undoing the gold buttons and tugging the heavy jacket off, revealing a plain, black top underneath. Even without all the glamor of gold adorning him, he looks just as handsome, all smooth lines and beautiful, pale skin.
Arms wind around your waist, and Seungcheol lifts you from between the mess of satin cloth surrounding your feet and ankles, plopping you on the bed instead. You hold tightly to him, making his own body follow yours as your back meets the mattress. You can’t stop staring, barely blinking, because you don’t want to miss a single moment of this. There is no anxiety, no nerves, only heated anticipation and adoration.
But Seungcheol’s touch is heavier, more longing than adoration. There’s reverence in it as he kisses you again, his legs framing your hips, one elbow digging into the bed beside your face while his other hand runs down your body to reach the hem of your chemise, brushing the outside of your thigh. Something intense burns in his touch, in his lips as they press near harshly against yours, like he has a point to prove.
“My Queen.” He rasps again. You barely hold back a whimper. “This is more to me than just bedding you. This…. this is worship.”
His lips leave your mouth, trailing down your chin. His tongue peeks out, runs in a wet line down the column of your throat as your head leans back. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it. His hand dips under the hem of your slip, pushes it up to brush over your bare hip. It traces the line of your bottoms, the last piece of cloth between him and where you need him the most.
He speaks with every press of his lips into your neck, every dig of his teeth into your skin.
“Your honor is my cause.” He whispers. He licks over your carotid as it jumps wildly. “Your safety is my vigil.”
His hand dips into the waistband of your bottoms. It traces over your hipbone, moves to the center, until you feel his palm run just over your mound. “Your word is my law.”
You realise, even through the thick fog slowly settling over your head, that these are not random words. It is his oath of fealty, the one that he took while on one knee before you when he became your Knight.
“Not for glory, nor reward, nor land do I swear this, but because my heart knows no truer allegiance than to you.”
You moan. A shaky, thin sound that fills the air, muffled only by the heavy curtains surrounding your four poster bed, keeping you and Seungcheol hidden from the rest of the world. The sound seems to egg him on. His fingertips dig just lightly into the soft give of your stomach. His lips lay a final kiss under your ear before trailing back to your waiting mouth. When his eyes meet yours again, they are devoid of irises, dilated with his arousal, pitch black pools that you would willingly fall into.
You will never question his loyalty ever again.
“May I unclothe you?” He asks, breath hitting your lips. You give him a half-smile.
“That’s what you have been doing already.”
When he smiles, you see minute crinkles on the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen them this close, and you fight the urge to pluck at them with your mouth.
“This will leave you bear, Your Majesty.” He sighs. “I fear myself not worthy of that sight.”
You shake your head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It’s silky soft as always, and you watch his eyelids flutter when your nails scratch his scalp.
“No one is worthy except you.”
When your chemise is pulled up, off your body and discarded to the side, you feel your skin burn. Seungcheol’s mouth parts, his eyes are hungry in a way you have never seen before. He lets out a small noise, his first of the night, a low groan from within the depths of his chest.
“I’m not worthy.” He repeats. “But I am weak.”
He leans down, his lips brushing over your collarbone. Your breath hitches. They travel down, between the valley of your breasts, tracing your sternum. They deviate to the side, sliding over the swell of your chest to reach your nipple. You gasp when his tongue runs over the hardened nub. He pauses for a split second, then encloses his lips around it.
He explores your body slowly, sucking, nipping, licking, kissing. He pays attention to every skin cell, every hair follicle, and anything that escapes his mouth is captured by his quick fingers. His forefinger and thumb pinches and rolls your unoccupied nipple between them until it is perked and tingly. He sucks so hard you are afraid he will somehow draw milk, against all logic. He moans into them like they are quenching his thirst, and the ticklish, electric sensation in your lower stomach intensifies. When you squirm and your legs twitch, you are horrified to realise that something wet is building up between your legs.
But you can’t stop it. You don’t want to. If he stops now, you might cry.
He keeps going until you’re so sensitive it almost hurts. When he pulls away, finally, he blows air on them. And you cry out.
“Sshh.” He reaches up to press his forehead to yours. “You make such pretty sounds, but being too loud will have consequences.”
You shake your head. “It’s only Soonyoung outside.”
Seungcheol hums. “And what? You want him to know?”
You flush at the thought. Seungcheol’s eyes widen just a little. A thick eyebrow ticks up.
“Oh?” His voice is smooth like butter. You clench subconsciously. More wetness dampens your core. He reaches down again, tracing his tongue over the shell of your ear.
“Does Her Majesty want the guard to hear her getting worshipped?” His breath hits your ear and sends shivers down your spine. You arch into him, feeling your bare, sensitive nipples brush his clothed chest. “Do you think he deserves to hear the beautiful sounds you make when I touch intimate parts of you?”
You can barely get your words out, your head spinning. You can feel Seungcheol’s palm splay over your stomach, traveling down at a torturously slow pace.
“You are the only one who gets to touch.” You whimper. “Maybe he should know that.”
A chuckle. A deep, throaty sound that shoots like lightening to the area between your legs. Seungcheol bypasses your core and instead runs his hand down your thigh to grip your knee. Finally, he tugs at it, pulling it apart.
Cold air hits the heated area. Seungcheol shifts, maneuvering himself so that he settles between your now open legs. You flush at the thought of being open to him like this, but lust eggs you on. You watch as he stares, and nearly moan when his tongue runs over his bottom lip, eyeing your nude body hungrily.
“May I taste you?” He asks.
Your eyes widen. You feel yourself stiffen slightly.
“Down…. down there?”
It looks like a struggle for him to tear his eyes away so he can look at you. He nods. You hesitate. You’re unsure of why he would want to do that. It seems he reads your mind.
“Your nectar, your essence, just a taste of it will sustain me, Your Majesty.” He rasps. His voice is pleading. Your throat tightens at the desperation in his tone. “I beg of you. And I promise, I will bring you to heights of pleasure you’ve never known before. Will you trust me?”
That’s not even a question. There is no one within these four walls, and even beyond them, that you trust more than him. So you nod, because on the question of trust, you will never doubt Seungcheol.
He positively perks up at your granted permission. When he slides down your body, your heartbeat picks up again. You try to breathe deeply so you don’t tense up as he carefully and gently pulls your thighs apart. It feels…. dirty….. but something about it thrills you too. The thought of his mouth on your most private parts is scandalous, but something in your loins burns at the notion. When you feel his breath on your lower lips, you jump.
Seungcheol chuckles. “Relax.”
You try to take a deep breath, but your Knight chooses that moment to kiss your folds. He starts soft and slow, just running his lips over them, pressing small kisses and nips on them. Then, you feel something hot and wet, his tongue, poke through the slit, small licks that make your lips part as you gasp. You stare at the delicate maroon cloth above you that is draped over the frame of your four poster bed, eyes nearly rolling when he finally licks a thick stripe from your twitching entrance to the apex of your lips. You whine.
“Good?” His breath hits your wet core again. You nod, unable to speak.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
His hold on your thighs tightens. He pushes them apart more, leaving you open before him, and dives in again, lapping over you hungrily. His lips close around your sensitive bundle of nerves and suck. You almost scream, clamping your mouth shut with your hands before you can. Despite the thrill of everything, you don’t really want anyone to hear you. Your eyes water, your features pinching as waves of pleasure roll up from your cunt and through your body. Every one of your reactions spurs Seungcheol on even more. He licks and sucks like his life depends on it, like he’s hungry for your taste. Maybe he is, because he groans into the sopping wet mess. His tongue runs down until it pokes at your hole. You tense at the feeling, and then the wet appendage slides in, poking in and out until your opening is loose enough for him to lick your insides too. His nose nudges your clit, and your whine is muffled into your hands.
Every time his hair brushes your inner thighs, every time you feel his hands pull your legs open and keep them there, or when his broad shoulders brush the back of your legs, you flush, overwhelmed at the thought of him devouring you like this. The knot in your core feels like it is snowballing, getting bigger and bigger, tighter, until one of your hands leaves your mouth so you can claw at Seungcheol’s shirt and shoulder. You kick, try to squirm away as the pleasure becomes near blinding, but his hold on you only tightens. He holds you down, sucks at your nub over and over until you can’t warn him anymore.
You wail, muffled by the back of your hand as the dam breaks. Tears escape the corners of your eyes and slide down the sides of your face. Your back arches off the bed, your entire body tightening and releasing as it overwhelms you like a tidal wave washing over your writhing body. His lips don’t slow, his tongue never rests, and he keeps going until you whine, exhausted, and push him again, less forcefully this time, since your limbs feel like liquid. This time, he finally pulls away, sitting up and lowering your shaking legs carefully to the bed.
He is a vision.
His face is flushed entirely pink, but particularly dark on the apples of his cheeks. Despite the cold air, sweat has built up on his temples because of the sweltering heat between your thighs. His lips are swollen and dark, covered with shiny, clear liquid. It swaths over his jaw and neck too, drenching him, but he seems unbothered by it. His tongue pokes out to run over his lips, lapping up whatever he can find on his face. Your own feels like it’s on fire.
“Good?” He asks again.
You don’t even know what to say. You just nod jerkily, trying to catch your breath. Seungcheol chuckles.
“I dream of this, you know?” He says, sliding up your trembling body. “When other men speak of the women they bed, I wonder about you. How you would taste on my tongue. I wake up from those dreams overwhelmed and aroused, always.”
He settles between your legs again, pressing his forehead to yours. “No dream can compare to reality.”
When he kisses you, you taste yourself on him. Not exactly sweet, but not sour either, and you wonder if he is exaggerating. But his actions and his words say otherwise, and you believe him completely. You feel his hands massage your inner thighs, digging pleasantly into the aching muscle. They slide up to the junction of where your legs meet your hips, one hand finding your twitching core again.
“We can stop if you want.” He offers. “It might be too much for you.”
You shake your head. “Want you, Seungcheol.”
He moans, nods, and his fingers trace your slit to prod at your entrance. You’re drenched, half with your own release and half from his spit, so he circles the opening with the pad of his middle finger before slowly breaching it. Your jaw goes slack.
He watches every reaction carefully, making sure you are in no pain as his finger slides in and out, in and out. Just one, but he’s still so careful. He slides it to the base of his knuckles, pauses for a split second, and then curls it up. You gasp.
This sensation is entirely different than the one before. While that felt unimaginably good, this hits deeper, like it is making you feel good from the inside out. Subconsciously, your legs spread even more, like you want to pull him in further. You pant, eyelids fluttering, hips undulating. Seungcheol’s keen eyes follow every movement.
“More?”
You nod vigorously, making his lips tick up a little. He slides another finger in, joining the first one in pumping carefully in and out. His fingers are thick, and now you feel the stretch on your gummy walls. He takes it slow, letting you adjust. You moan quietly when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing little circles on it to make the stretch feel better. Slowly, the slight twinge of pain disappears, replaced by pleasure even more amplified than before.
Seungcheol’s other arm, that he is using to prop himself up by your side, shifts a little. His hand finds your hair, splayed around your head like a dark halo, and caresses tenderly through the strands. His fingers, buried deep in your cunt, curl and prod, until you yelp at the spot they hit, and then he rubs exclusively over it until you’re whimpering and crying, one hand gripping his wrist like a vice while the other fists his shirt.
He adds a third finger. You have no time to warn him before your back arches, your eyes roll, and another high assaults your every sense. It is even more intense than the first one, and you nearly weep. He uses his own weight to keep your body from jerking too much, and he whispers gentle praises in your ear as you ride the waves. When it wanes, you’re left breathless and shaky, nearly disoriented.
“Beautiful.” He breathes. “You’re a sight no one deserves to lay eyes on.”
When his fingers pull out, they make a squelching sound that leaves you flushed. But you’re caught even more off guard when Seungcheol immediately plops them into his mouth, licking them clean of all your juices. He groans in approval, licking over any that runs down the back of his hand. You swallow tightly as you watch him. Heat stirs in you at how handsome he looks. Slightly disheveled, but endlessly dreamy like this. You want to see all of him.
“Take your clothes off.” You manage to get out.
Seungcheol has spoken a lot about thinking of you, but he is unaware that you’ve thought extensively of him too. When he tugs his shirt off, you’re reminded of the times you’ve seen his cheeks glow bright in the sun, imagining how his bare shoulders would look under that same light, just as pale as the rest of him. When he undoes his slacks and tugs them off, your mouth drops, and you remember imagining this too, in the very depths of the night, shameful, taboo thoughts of what he looks like completely naked. You knew he would be glorious nude, his broad build visible even through his clothes, but you never imagined this, never anticipated that he would be so big below the belt. Long and curved, thicker than you could have ever conjured in your inexperienced mind. It is flushed dark, leaking at the tip and running in a clear liquid down the mushroom head. When he wraps a hand around it and tugs, you hear his breath tremble in relief.
You don’t think before reaching down, your fingertips brushing his hand, sliding under it so you can replicate his movements. He groans, shakes his head.
“You don’t have to-” He chokes, and his back almost curls in on himself when you squeeze him slightly. You bite your lip as you watch him, how his face crumples and his moans rise an octave. Something runs through you like a thrill, a form of power, in your ability to reduce him to this.
Your mouth waters. You wonder if you can taste him like he tasted you.
Before you can ask, he shuffles forward again, tugging your legs up to settle closer to your core. Anticipation curls in your stomach at the thought of being filled with something so thick and girthy, dread mixed with excitement. Your hand is still moving, almost on its own accord, when he finally takes over, squeezing at the base a little before he runs it up your sensitive slit. You twitch.
He looks up at you in question one last time. You nod.
The first breach has you sharply inhaling, gritting your teeth as his head pops inside. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks.
“Relax.” He whispers, thumb circling your clit. You breathe out, trying to soften your core, and he slides in a bit more. He does it little by little, playing with your body to take your mind off it, until you feel the last inch sink into you. His hips meet yours, skin flush together. Finally, he moans wantonly.
“Lords above.” He chokes. “You’re…. fuck.”
You almost gasp. Seungcheol has never sworn before you. Never. His lack of inhibition now makes you whimper, your hands clenching in the silk sheets under you. His hips twitch, then he pulls out, almost to the very tip, sinking in slowly again. He watches it with barely disguised awe, doing it again and again, watching your hole expand with every slide of him to the base. Your eyes roll, revelling in the sensation of being filled like this, his shaft pressing into every part of your spongy walls as it drags in and out.
Minutes pass, and he slowly picks up the pace. You gasp and moan, back arching. You hear the plop noise his skin makes when it comes in contact with yours, the stretch and give of your pussy as he fucks into you faster and faster. The bed curtains swish as the bed moves under the force of him. You can see his muscles shift and flex with every movement, and the sight of him, combined with every movement, makes you whimper and cry.
“Seungcheol.” Your voice trembles.
“You feel so good.” He gasps, beats you to the punch. “How long I have wanted this, my Queen. How terribly I have wished to feel you wrapped around me like this.”
Your jaw goes slack when he hits the same spot with his cock that his fingers found not too long ago. You clench hard. His voice cracks.
“Dreamed of this for so long.” He babbles. “You’re tighter than anything. I can’t believe- can’t imagine-”
When his hands give out, you feel his weight on your chest, his arms sliding under your body to hug you tightly to his own. A pleasant feeling, bare skin against bare skin, and his heart pounds so hard you can perceive it through your own chest.
“-I’ve been the only one to feel this.” His pace turns frantic. “No one else. Just me.”
You nod, even though his face is buried in your neck and he can’t see you. “Only you.”
He moans into your sweaty skin, laps at it with his tongue. He ruts into you like he’s desperate for it.
“Only me. I get to have your body like this. Your pretty cunt, all mine. My Queen, can I fuck you like this every day? I can’t go without it, not after knowing. I must have you. I must have you-”
When you come, it is with a sob that you muffle in his bare shoulder, your teeth digging harshly into his skin. His pace stutters and he curses again, words you have never heard before but can tell are not meant for public speech, as well as more praises for how well you take him, how you’ve molded your pussy to his shape, how your body will recognise him now, how much he loves you….
He floods your insides with white hot liquid, and you bask in the feeling of it. His flesh trembles under your splayed palms. He ruts into you, slower, less intense now, just as needy, as he slowly comes down. The thick, strained cords of muscle in his back gradually relax under your touch as your fingertips dance over him. Your breaths slow, regulating as the seconds tick by.
All is silent. He presses soft kisses to your neck. Finally, his arms loosen and slide out from under you, separating your bodies enough for him to look into your eyes. His are soft and pliant, warm, sleepy. When he smiles, it is lazy and slow, softer than you’ve ever seen on him. You giggle, body feeling pleasantly heavy.
When he pulls out and stands, you feel strangely empty, turning on your side as your sore muscles relax. You blink as you watch him turn to grab the sheets on your bed to cover your naked body.
“You have a tattoo.” You state.
Seungcheol smiles a bit sheepishly, nodding. “It is unusual, I’m aware. I got it a long time ago, during a trip to a foreign land when I was younger.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, standing. Your eyes linger on the dark tree etched just below the back of his neck. It looks sturdy, and it shifts when he moves.
“Drink and bad decisions.” He mumbles. “I am just grateful it can be hidden easily.”
Your fingers itch to trace it with your hands. “I like it.”
He turns to you quizzically. “You do?”
You merely nod and smile. His eyes twinkle.
Seungcheol putters around the room as you curl into the sheets and watch him. He pours a glass of water, downing it and pouring one for you as well, which he gently coaxes down your parched throat. You watch him gather your discarded dress and splay it over your armchair. You wave your hand at it in dismissal.
“Eunhee will take care of it in the morning.” You mumble.
He finds your night dress fairly easily, and helps you slip into it. Every movement with him feels natural, even though the act of him handling your clothes and dressing you is deeply intimate. Nothing can compare to what you two just did while tangled up in each other’s limbs, so this all seems trivial. You pout a little when you watch him tug his clothes on, and he only chuckles at the sight.
“I can’t be here in the morning, Your Majesty.” He explains, seating himself on the edge of the mattress to run an affectionate hand over your hair. “I’m almost certain Soonyoung heard everything, but we can trust him completely. However, I’m not sure things will fare well for us when your steward shows up tomorrow and finds me here.”
You make a face and huff a little. Seungcheol lays a soft kiss on your cheek and stands up. Searching for his boots.
“Tomorrow night, then?” You ask instead, remembering the slew of words and sentences he threw out during your tryst about getting to do this every day. The thought of it already excites you, and the way he smiles, the cute indent in his cheek amplified, it seems he feels the same.
“Tomorrow night.” He promises.
When he’s ready to leave, he leans over you and kisses you one last time, deep and intense, his hands splaying over your waist and sides, gripping any part of you he can find. You tug at his hair, tongue gliding wetly over his as he groans into your mouth, muffling your own whimpers. When he pulls away, you feel dizzy.
“Tell Eunhee to do something about your neck.” He rasps, and you feel his thumb run over the skin at the junction of your shoulder, inches above your collarbone.
When your handmaid shows up the next morning, you are sheepish. She says nothing except to give you a tiny smile, powdering you more than she usually would, in an effort to hide the dark blotch your Knight left marring your skin. When you question her lack of reaction, she just shrugs, but something clever twinkles in her eye.
“Soonyoung might have mentioned something when he got home this morning.” She quips. You can’t help but feel giddy and mildly embarrassed.
“You won’t tell?”
You know she won’t. She is your most trusted apart from Seungcheol. Her face softens as she laces you up, and you see her shake her head over your shoulder in the mirror that you stand in front of.
“You deserve to feel happy.” She replies, simply. You don’t have time to say anything more when there’s a knock on your door and Sir Jeon walks in with the agenda for the day in his hand.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.9k
warnings (for this chapter): angst, hurt/comfort, feelings of loneliness and isolation, humiliation, tears, rebellion, some fluff, may have historical inaccuracies, mildly suggestive content, some politics and mentions of war, mentions of death.
series masterlist
One year and one month after your wedding, you receive a letter from your older brother.
It is held gingerly in Seungcheol’s hands one morning when he comes to your chambers to give you a rundown of the schedule for the day. You are not one to receive much correspondence, so you notice the sealed parchment in his hand immediately, raising an eyebrow.
“It is from your brother.” Your Knight says, a shadow passing over his face. You freeze, your cup of morning tea halfway between your lap and your mouth. You did not expect Mingyu of all people to write to you, especially because he had not reached out since the one and only letter he wrote to you went unanswered over a year ago. Truthfully, you feel like you have nothing to say to your brother. You believed for a long time that he was your only well-wisher in the castle you grew up in, only to realise that he selfishly just wanted to marry you off to scum so he could inherit a stable Crown. You haven’t spoken to him since you left.
You hold a hand out for the letter. Seungcheol hesitates. “Are you sure, Princess?”
You give him a dry look, one he has gotten very used to as part of your usual antics. Antics you reserve only for him and your handmaid Eunhee, who is currently peeling fruit for you. Anyone else would call you disrespectful and not a graceful, well-trained Princess. But Seungcheol would never judge. He likes it when you are authentic to yourself; he has stated that multiple times.
The parchment is warm and your hands are stable as you peel off the wax seal and unfold the letter. Mingyu’s familiar, neat scrawl makes something claw at your throat. You read the letter at a more rushed pace than you normally would, because despite everything, you want to know what he has to say. Then you read it again. Then a third time. Neither your Knight nor your handmaid say anything.
Then you finally lower the letter to your lap, and take a deep breath.
“My parents have passed away.”
Eunhee freezes, head shooting up to look at you. Seungcheol’s posture stiffens in the chair where he sits. His mouth has dropped open.
“He’s-” You swallow tightly when you hear your voice waver. “He’s inviting me to attend his coronation next month.”
Seungcheol reaches for the letter. “May I?”
You let it drop into his hand. You have no secrets from him.
Seungcheol reads over the letter carefully, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stare at the flames dancing in your fireplace. You hear him sigh and fold the parchment, gesturing to Eunhee. Silently, Eunhee sets down the plates she’s holding and leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a careful click.
“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol asks once you’re alone, voice low. You take a deep breath, trying to detangle the mess of thoughts in your head.
You were never close with your parents. Your mother had no intention of having another child after she had already birthed an heir, and the only reason she was willing to have more was to have another son in case the Crown fell upon him. Her reaction to your birth was apathy, to put it mildly. And she had maintained this indifference your entire life. You were raised in the hands of maids and other noblewomen. Your father was a busy man, and you would often go months without exchanging two words with him. This news of their deaths brings back memories that are not very fond, reminding you of the insignificance you felt your entire life, and how difficult it was to finally make your spine rigid, to make your words have meaning. Years of insecurity and feelings of worthlessness had to be undone for this.
“I don’t know. I am shocked, I suppose.” You tilt your head, another question entering your mind. “How come I heard it straight from Mingyu? Wouldn’t he have sent a messenger from the castle as soon as it happened?”
Seungcheol nods. “Normally, yes. But you are aware that it is not a reassuring state of affairs between this monarchy and your previous one.”
Right. You do know that. Your refusal to acknowledge this marriage, to consummate it or pay respect to its sanctity, has meant that your parents’ efforts to form political ties were in vain. The political stability guaranteed by this union did not stand strong. Tensions have risen. You have been a thorn in the side of the reigning King and Queen, as well as your husband, the Crown Prince, so any alliance formed with your blood family is essentially null and void, and exists only on paper. You know your married family is furious at your refusal to comply, which makes them unwilling to cooperate for any sort of relations with your blood family. The only reason you are still in this castle as a Crown Princess is because you are wedded in the eyes of the Church, and no matter how badly your husband and his mother would like to get rid of you, the Church elders and court officials will not let that stand.
There is, also, the fact that none of the Prince’s mistresses seem to be getting pregnant. If this monarchy has any hope of getting an heir, they must hold on to you, or the royal bloodline will die. So all these circumstances, no matter how atrocious, have given you a weapon, leverage, to hold your position. While there are parts of you that are unsure about yourself, that will always be doubtful of your place, you are much more solid on your feet than you used to be when you first arrived here.
In big part, this confidence comes from the man sitting in front of you right now.
That night one year ago, while on his knees and his forehead pressed to your leg, Seungcheol had sworn his life and his loyalty to you in a gesture that stays with you to this very day. Seungcheol recognised a fire in you that everyone always dismissed as petulance and immaturity. But to him, that fire is strength, it is resilience. He believes mental armor is just as, if not more, impenetrable than physical one. And over the last year, he has helped you build it up to what it is today. Your no-nonsense attitude that keeps your enemies under your thumb is all thanks to him and his blind faith in you.
“Nowhere near that, Your Highness.” He always protests when you show your gratitude. “Your strength is yours alone. You just needed to know how to harness it.”
“And you’re the one who taught me that, Sir Choi.” Your voice is teasing. He huffs.
“Please do not call me that. You know it sounds too pretentious to me.”
You grin and nudge him. “I know. That’s why I call you it. Watching you pout is endlessly amusing.”
“You sound like Jeonghan.”
That makes you laugh.
Seungcheol has loosened up a lot after being in your service for so long. He meets your eyes, and is unafraid from voicing his opinions, because you enthusiastically encourage it. When you are playful, he indulges it and even plays along to the best of his ability. But throughout it all, he doesn’t forget his duty. He protects you fiercely, not just from physical attacks, but verbal ones too. Seungcheol has a lot of influence among the Royal Guard, since he is a garrison commander and has lived in the castle all his life. Most people are afraid of him, and so they don’t speak ill of you directly. Any area not within his jurisdiction can easily be dealt with by Jeonghan, who is slated to be the future Chief Councillor to the Crown. You often like to think of it as forming a shield between you and the outside world, and as long as Seungcheol is in your immediate vicinity, you feel completely safe.
It is a no-brainer that your Knight will come with you to attend your brother’s coronation. What you are endlessly displeased by is the fact that your husband, Seojoon, will be joining you as well.
“He makes my skin crawl.” You mumble as you stand by your carriage while Eunhee arranges your seating to be as comfortable as possible. Seungcheol, who stands one pace behind you, hums sympathetically.
“My deepest apologies, Princess. But the implication of him not being there could be catastrophic. We cannot risk that. If your brother’s nation has any more unrest, or if his enemies realise our alliance with him is weak, it could push them to the brink of war.”
You nod, because you know he’s right. Your home country has always struggled, but it has been particularly harsh for the last few years, with neighboring countries eyeing the territory. Despite the weak political ties, there was still an alliance on paper there, and your brother going to war would pull your country into it too.
“Besides,” you feel Seungcheol’s voice lower a few decibels, and he leans a little closer to you, “the Prince’s image needs rehabilitation.”
You pull your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling. You have heard the whispers of the Prince’s reputation. His indulgence in worrying amounts of mead, his rowdy gaggle of hunting companions, and the endless lines of mistresses cannot be contained within the castle. Word spreads, especially between workers who go in and out of the castle, and while your own standing with the public isn’t favourable, it doesn’t matter as much as the Prince’s. You are, after all, disposable, in the Queen’s words. Something she never fails to remind you of. But the Prince needs to be favored, since he has to take the throne. He needs this more than you.
As you wait for the carriage to be prepped, you wander along the walls of the gardens, admiring the new bloom of flowers. Servants move between the convoy, carrying luggage and tending to horses. Seungcheol is busy organising the guard that would escort you, making sure there are no cracks in their formation. He is in full armor, which you rarely see inside the castle. Large plates of steel cover his front, arm and legs. It clinks only slightly as he moves, fitted perfectly to his body. When you feel your breath slow as you watch him, you know you must look away.
You have that questionable habit. You like to stare at your Knight.
The sun hits his dark hair and makes it look a lighter brown than usual, standing out more against his pale skin. The armor gleams, and a small layer of sweat is forming on his forehead. His voice is harsh as he barks orders, booming timbre that reaches you even though you stand afar. You look away because you are in public, and you know people will notice. You already know of the rumors. There are many explanations about why you refuse to let the Prince bed you, and one of them is that you already have a lover, and that you are an unfaithful, scarlet woman.
You don’t pay heed to the rumors. Your name is already disgraced. You no longer care, as long as no one says it to your face. And Seungcheol won’t let that happen.
You turn your eyes to the rest of the convoy as the crowd gets denser. Eunhee is instructing the guards handling your personal luggage. Jeonghan is talking to another man towards the tail end of the carriages. Standing some far off are three women, and you feel your blood run cold as you recognise them.
Concubines. More particularly, your husband’s.
You would recognise them anywhere, particularly Hana. She has a certain reputation within the castle walls, especially in regards to you, since she holds you in no authority and is openly disrespectful. Seungcheol loathes her blatant disregard of you, but the favor she incurs from the Crown Prince is unquestionable. She wears jewelry meant only for royals, bought personally by your husband. It is another reason why the Prince is not liked; he has no respect for the chastity of royal titles. He treats her, a commoner, with more regard than she could ever deserve. She walks through the castle halls like she owns them, wearing layers too scarce for a woman and causing scandal, badmouthing you loudly. She was not trained by royal standards, so she is mannerless. Noblemen and women hate her, but she cares not because she lays with the Heir Apparent at night.
She boils your blood.
Before you can say anything or react, the three women are shown to a carriage at the end of the line. They step into it, talking and whispering among themselves. You bite the inside of your cheek and beeline your way to Jeonghan, your dress billowing in the wind behind you. The man he is talking to immediately falls silent as you approach, and Jeonghan turns to see what has happened. He smiles when he realises that it’s you.
“Princess,” he greets warmly, “a pleasure as always.”
“He’s taking his women?” Your voice is hard as stone, ignoring his words. Jeonghan stares, gesturing to the man behind him to dismiss him. The man bows and leaves quickly. He turns back to you.
“His orders were explicit.”
“My birth family does not indulge in concubines.” Your voice shakes more the longer you speak. “If my husband comes with me to attend my brother’s coronation and brings concubines with him, I will be humiliated.”
Jeonghan’s face softens. He looks truly apologetic. “I told him that. I strongly advised against it, because it will only damage his reputation more. He…. didn’t heed my words.”
Your teeth grind so hard it sends a shooting pain through your jaw. You blink away hot tears before they can fall. You’re too emotional to notice Seungcheol’s concerned stare at a distance, or how he watches you closely.
It has taken so long for you to be relatively normal about the situation you are living in. Every once in a while, you still stain your pillow wet with your tears, and it took time, but by now you have more or less accepted your fate. This, however, might be too much to bear. Your old kingdom, the people who watched you grow as a princess within their grounds, could not see this. You could not stand for them to witness the constant shame you endure. You have nothing, but you still have your self respect. This will be too much.
Seungcheol seems on guard and rigid as you climb into your own carriage while you do everything in your power to swallow the terrible knot in your throat. You know your distress is making him uneasy, but you’re too busy trying to keep your composure while out in public. Your heart is pounding, and ugly emotions of panic and humiliation are swelling in your chest. Eunhee works quietly to settle you, and before she can ask if you need anything, you are already waving her off. As soon as she leaves the carriage, your face crumples.
Hot, thick tear tracks roll down your cheeks readily, as if they have been waiting. You try to tamp your sobs, your shoulders shaking with the effort. Your napkin gets wet with your tears as you wipe them, but they show no signs of stopping. You don’t know how to suppress your onslaught of feelings. It’s too much to take.
In the distance, you can hear the man at the head of the convoy call for all to move. The door opens. Seungcheol steps in and sits opposite to you. He freezes, takes one look at your face, and his own hardens. You are sure that Jeonghan has told him about the situation, but this is still new to him. Despite how close you are, your Knight has never seen you cry.
“I’m sorry you have to witness this.” You hiccup shakily as the carriage starts moving. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks, a noticeable movement, and he shakes his head quickly.
“Your Highness need not apologise.” He says, and you’re nearly shocked into silence at how his voice shakes. Is it from anger? You cannot tell. You’ve never heard Seungcheol waver. You sniffle and watch him. Somehow, his reaction quietens your own tears. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look at you, but his leather gloved hands are curled into fists on his thighs. He appears agitated, and you know instinctively that it’s because of your anguish. Somehow, that settles the loneliness growing in your chest. His anger on your behalf eases you. The curtains of the carriage are closed. You sit here alone with him. You think of the grand carriage at the tail end of the convoy that your husband sits in shamelessly with three other women. Your heart squeezes.
“Seungcheol,” you shift yourself to the right to make room, “sit with me.”
Your Knight blinks. “Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare-”
“Please.” Your face crumples again. “Please.”
He shifts immediately, two smooth movements before he is turning his body and sitting down next to you. You waste no time in scooting closer, until your arm presses against the tough, steel plates covering his. It’s rigid, but the cold of it gives you stability. Comfort.
“Never, ever plead with me, Princess.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds strained. “If I don’t listen to your orders on one call, I have failed as your Knight. It is beneath you to ask twice.”
You stare straight ahead. Your tears still flow freely, trailing down from your jaw until they wet your neck too. No one has touched you, not even through metal armor, in over a year. You remember Mingyu hugging you before you boarded the carriage on your way to your new home. Besides Eunhee’s hands dressing you and combing your hair every day, the only touch you remember is the delicate kiss Seungcheol laid on your knuckles the day he was declared your Champion.
Your heart squeezes. You are starved.
“Hold my hand.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. This time, Seungcheol does not hesitate. Warm, stiff leather meets bare skin. His large hand slides over yours, squeezing tightly. You sigh, your eyes closing. A few more stray tears escape.
You lay your head on the stiff plate over his shoulder as the carriage moves steadily on.
…………………………………..
The journey is brutal, mostly because you spend every day filled with the dread of getting to your destination. Your first few nights within your own lands, noble families along your route host you, grand affairs as they welcome you to their homes, that you attend in a state of emotional numbness. You request that Eunhee stay with you overnight, and she sleeps in a cot in the same room as you. You toss and turn, void of any sleep or comfort, despite the lengths your guests go to for that very goal.
Your only relief is in your carriage, with your Knight.
Seungcheol holds your hand as long as you desire it. He runs his thumb over the back of it, comforting circles of sure, firm leather that ground your rampaging thoughts. You sigh, your cheek pressed to the stiff armor on his body. For a few, blissful moments, your racing thoughts quieten.
“Must you wear this at all times?” You mumble, gesturing to the metal. He chuckles.
“I must, my Princess.” He muses. “However else will I be ready to protect you should the need arise?”
You hum and sigh, feeling surety in his touch. He has started saying that, my Princess. Like you are his. You are sure he means nothing by it except a show of his unwavering devotion, and a comfort to you in trying times like these. But it lights a fire in your chest, anyway. You move closer, your thigh pressing to his, and your face heats at the proximity. Layers of clothes and metal plates interfere between you two, but Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens. His breath hitches. Your mind runs to places it shouldn’t.
Seven days of travel later, you finally arrive at your childhood home.
Mingyu stands at the gate with a grand reception. Prior to your arrival, the convoy was rearranged, and you were placed in the same carriage as the Prince, while his concubines were relocated. Just the thought of sitting in there made you sick, but you sucked it up for the sake of the occasion. You are quick to exit when you arrive, unable to stay in the same space as Seojoon any longer.
Mingyu has aged only one year since you last saw him, but he looks much older. You wonder if it’s the strain of your parents’ sudden deaths (severe lung infections, he tells you), mixed with the fact that he has to quickly scramble to prepare for the Throne. You know for a fact that he wasn’t prepared for this. Well, every heir is prepared to an extent, but Mingyu saw this to be somewhere in the distant future, and not so soon. He is dressed in royal blue and gold, your family colors, and seeing him sends a shock of bittersweet pain through your chest.
Despite everything, you missed him.
The feast arranged for your arrival is grand as anything, and you spend all your time catching up with Mingyu. He speaks to you so warmly that it is almost a shock. You had forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like you mean something. Immediately afterward, he offers for you both to retire to his private study for more time together, while your husband and your servants are shown to their rooms. Seungcheol asks thrice if you are okay to be alone, and you reassure him that you are.
“I wouldn’t mind if you joined us, Sir Choi.” Mingyu smiles. “And you too, Chief Advisor Yoon.”
You stare at Mingyu, shocked, when he deliberately leaves out Seojoon, who is sitting at the same dinner table. You can feel your husband stiffen next to you, and his face twists in an ugly sneer. But he doesn’t say anything. Jeonghan and Seungcheol both politely decline the invitation, as it would be disrespectful to accept when the Heir Apparent has not even been asked. You feel a sick satisfaction at the way Mingyu has dealt with the situation, returning to your meal and taking a bite to hide your smile.
You ask him about it when you’re walking to his study. It’s just the two of you, along with Seungcheol, who is five paces behind you, escorting you to where you need to be.
“Seojoon won’t be happy. That was blatant disrespect.”
Mingyu scoffs. “Good. Your marital family hasn’t exactly upheld their end of our alliance. My borders are distressed and I’m hurtling headfirst into a war. If disrespecting my brother in law is going to wake the King up a little, then so be it.”
You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know I’m the reason why they won’t cooperate with you. I am yet to give them an heir.”
Mingyu’s voice hardens. “Producing an heir was never part of the deal. It was you in exchange for political stability.”
Your throat tightens. Mingyu falters.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is more sombre now, when his words register to him. You shake your head. You are entirely used to people talking about you like an object.
“It’s fine. You’re not wrong.”
“I still feel guilty.”
“I’m aware.”
You enter Mingyu’s library through large mahogany doors. Seungcheol gives you a cautious look. You nod at him, hopefully reassuredly. The door finally closes between you.
The fireplace is roaring, lively flames that set the room aglow with a soft, golden light. You settle in one of two armchairs facing it, and Mingyu takes the other one. A chambermaid stands a few feet away, and Mingyu gestures for her to serve tea.
“I was also angry.” Mingyu speaks up. You look at him to continue. His face is colder now, like he has been deeply insulted.
“He brought not one, not two, but three concubines to his wife’s birth home, to attend her brother’s coronation. He has crossed a line.”
You bite the inside of your lip, watching the maid place a delicate cup of tea on the table next to you. You don’t reply to Mingyu, because you don’t know what to say.
“There’s rumors, you know?” He mumbles. “Traveling merchants love to spread gossip, and my advisor has a good idea about how public perception is currently looking. Your people are particularly distasteful of him. I’m unsure of how he will be able to peacefully take the Throne without massive unrest.”
You sigh and nod. You know of the rumors. You also know that they are entirely his doing, so you feel no sympathy for him.
“Speaking of unrest,” you begin, “I’m more concerned about how things are looking for you.”
When Mingyu sighs this time, it’s pained and heavy. He looks like he bears a huge, invisible burden. You watch him run a hand over his face.
“We’re being provoked to it.” He says. “There have been attacks on our entire eastern border. There’s only so much we can hold off before we retaliate. Father had been pushing for negotiations before illness took him. That’s why we are rushing a Coronation. I need to be in power so I can do something more diplomatic and not let this escalate.”
You stare into the fire, thinking. “But if it does, we will go to war with you.”
Mingyu nods. “You will have to. It’s in writing.”
“Right.” Your mind is racing with just one thought, and despite everything, it seems your brother knows exactly what thought it is.
“That includes your Knight.” He states.
Your head whips up to look at him. He does not look disapproving, or judgemental. Instead, he has a tiny smile playing on his face.
“I’m not daft, you know? The way he looks at you goes far beyond the realm of duty to the Crown.”
You feel your cheeks burn hot, and you look away from Mingyu’s shrewd stare, scowling. He laughs.
“You misunderstand him.” You respond. “He’s very devoted.”
Mingyu hums in a way that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Sure.”
Your heart pounds. You focus on sipping your tea, scalding your tongue with the first sip, but you do not care. Mingyu breaks the awkward air.
“He has a reputation too, you know? Your Knight.”
You look at Mingyu curiously. “What do you mean?”
He shifts a little, crossing one leg over the other. “He leads a garrison known for fearsome battle expertise. He is an excellent fighter. He was the youngest member of the Royal Guard to receive a Knightship. And he comes from a very prominent village of business and trade. Any merchant from your country sings his praises. Your public loves him.”
You feel something like pride swirl inside you. You smile at your cup.
“He deserves it.”
Mingyu hums.
“If he fights in this war with his garrison, there is no way we will lose.”
Your grip on your cup tightens. A slow sense of dread takes root in your chest as you think about the possibility of Seungcheol not being by your side, but laying his life on the line at your borders. You try vehemently to push it away. “There is no war. And there will be none.”
Mingyu says nothing. He only stares. You go back to your tea.
……………………………
Despite such short notice for arrangements, Mingyu’s coronation is grand as anything. You think this has to do, in part, with the mere presence your brother has. Tall, regal, confident. Like he was born to be on the Throne, like his whole life was a mere filler leading up to this moment. You are truly happy to see him bear the heavy Crown. You have complete confidence in his ability to lead his people.
The feast is grand, the banquet afterwards is even grander. Seojoon seemed to take the slight from your first evening here personally, because in the days that follow, all through the Coronation and the subsequent celebrations, he behaves like a poorly raised child. Halfway through the banquet, he disappears from your side after drinking half the supply of alcohol instead of tastefully sipping it like everyone else. You can hear the whispers of your guests, and you can see Mingyu’s smirk. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you’re sure the task of babysitting your husband feels impossible for him. You’re half-convinced he has fully given up. Word will reach the castle before you even say farewell to your brother. The King will be furious about his son’s antics and the impression he is leaving behind, as you know his monarchy means everything to him. The resulting damage control will go heavily in Mingyu’s favor so he can make more demands by using the insult Seojoon is giving to him as leverage.
Your brother can be ingenious sometimes.
Towards the end of the celebrations, you finally take leave from the gathering. Mingyu, still not entirely used to the new difference in rank between you two, gives you a hug before you retire for the night. You’re pleasantly surprised, and a little tipsy as well, so you giggle and return it. Truthfully, you missed this. You’ve been so starved of genuine affection that you don’t care if you’re breaking royal etiquette for a moment. You’re smiling widely as you leave, humming under your breath. Your Knight, who was your escort the entire night, seems to notice.
“You enjoyed yourself, Your Highness.” Seungcheol muses, one pace behind you as always. “I’m glad.”
You hum and giggle. “I did. I missed Mingyu. He was the only person in my birth home who showed me unfiltered kindness.”
He nods. “I can see that. His Majesty is truly kind. And he cares, despite everything. He will be a wonderful king.”
You turn to look at him. “He praised you too. Said your reputation precedes you. I was so shocked, Sir Choi. I didn’t know how famous you are.”
Seungcheol sighs and cringes visibly, and it only makes you laugh more. When you reach your guest chambers, he pushes the door open and guides you inside.
“I’m sure he exaggerates.”
You scoff in a manner truly undignified for a Princess, kicking your shoes off. Seungcheol watches you flounder around as the door shuts behind him.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not!” You give him an appalled look. He raises an eyebrow, but his lips fight to not tick up.
“I will send for Eunhee.”
You groan and step forward. “No.”
The word drags out of you, long and petulant. Your hands find Seungcheol’s chest, and you fiddle with the array of gold medals pinned to his ceremonial uniform. The deep maroon looks wonderful against his skin, and he’s studded with all his achievements, looking grander than you, you would argue, if you weren’t so heavily draped in shiny silk and golden jewelry. Up close, you can smell him, a scent of metal and warm wood.
Seungcheol’s hands shoot up instinctively to yours, delicately circling around your wrists. You can feel his heartbeat on your palm even through his jacket. You watch carefully, his touch shooting like sparks up your arm. He is not wearing gloves. This is the first time you’ve felt his skin against yours.
“Princess.” His voice is cautious. His posture has stiffened because of your proximity. You have never been this close to him before, except when he sat with you in your carriage.
“Mingyu said something else too.” You mumble, ignoring his warning. “He said…. that you’re in love with me.”
Not in so many words, but you want to see Seungcheol’s reaction. And you get it instantly. His entire torso turns rigid, and subconsciously, his grip on your wrists tightens. His eyes have widened, darting left to right between your own.
“Do you love me, Seungcheol?” You whisper.
All is silent for a few moments. Seungcheol heaves in a breath like it’s a struggle for him. “I pledged you my sword and my life.”
You minutely shake your head. When you step forward, rising slightly on your tip toes, your sigh mingles with his. The air freezes still, like it’s holding its breath, like it’s waiting for the melee to break.
“Answer me.” You breathe.
Seungcheol’s eyes screw shut. This close, you can count his individual eyelashes. You can see the small smattering of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You can see the way his skin is gradually pinkening the longer you stay so close to him.
“Please don’t ask this of me, Your Highness.” His voice is strained. “I have never lied to you. I do not wish to start today.”
Your eyes cloud. Your vision swims. Mingyu was right. He was right.
You step back, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, and the tension releases like the whistle on a steam engine. Seungcheol’s grip on your wrists loosens, then disappears. You see his chest rise in a deep breath, just before he opens his eyes. But he won’t look at you. The second there is distance between you, he falls to one knee.
“Please forgive me.” His voice shakes as he bows deeply. “I don’t deserve your grace, not after breaching your trust in the way that I have. I am a weak human in mind, my Princess. I have wavered. I let myself think of you impurely, unjustly. I will repent for the rest of my days if I have to.”
Your face crumples. Your heart twinges painfully in your chest at the waver in his voice, the genuine fear in it, and somehow, this pain is worse than any you have felt in the last year. The thought that loving you is something that made Seungcheol feel guilty is like knives to your chest. You don’t think. Instead, you drop to your knees too.
Seungcheol reacts immediately, hands gripping your arms and hauling you up before your knees can even feel the heat of the stone floor. He is shocked at the action, nearly balking at you as he holds you up. You grip the lapel of his jacket, trying to get your feet under you. He uses the hold on your arms to tug your closer. You freeze, looking up into his eyes.
“The day you kneel on the floor is the day I shatter my own kneecaps.” He rasps. His words make your stomach twinge. Your face flushes. Your eyes dart to his lips.
“Kiss me.”
Seungcheol blinks. You don’t know who you have shocked more, him or yourself. But once the words leave your mouth, you realise you want nothing more than this exact thing. It burns through your veins like a desire so aching it leaves your soul empty. You push forward again, despite how strong your Knight’s grip is on your arms, until you feel his nose brush the tip of yours.
“You said I would never have to ask twice.” Your voice trembles. It’s so quiet, you are half unsure if he has heard you. “You said it was beneath me.”
Seungcheol’s eyes squeeze shut again. He pulls in a long, laboured breath. When he opens them again, you feel a tug on your body, and soft lips meet yours with an insistent press.
You have heard of first kisses. You have heard of them in stories told by court entertainers and travellers, by old noblewomen who tell fairytales and sing folk songs. You imagined your own, once upon a time, with a man that is now your husband, who you have never let touch you. But your Knight, your Champion, is present before you, tall like standing oak, but with lips softer than your most delicate velvet, moving over your own with a surety you have long associated with him. You melt into him like he’s meant for you, and he is. He has sworn an oath to be your support, and he keeps it, his hands leaving your arms so one can wind carefully around your waist. Your body meets his in a soft push, and it’s like the tension leaves you like a relieved sigh. You feel fingers card through your hair, a familiar feeling because Eunhee does your hair every morning, but these fingers are thicker, stronger, and they cup the back of your head, tilt it, so his lips slot deeper into yours.
Your trembling hands rest on his shoulders. His body is solid, alive, as it moves with yours. Your breasts push against his chest, his arm that winds around you making sure not an inch of space separates you from him. Your feet almost leave the floor, the balls of your feet barely brushing the stone anymore, his strength holding you up. He feels divine against you. Your inhibitions are lowered, and you mewl into him.
“Princess.” He breathes into your mouth, voice tinged with desperation, but he never finishes the thought. He kisses you harder, grips you tighter, like letting you go will mean you will drift away. His body curves into you, your own arches into his. He invades your every sense. His tongue runs over your bottom lip. Something tightens severely in your lower stomach.
A thudding sound behind you shatters your high. Seungcheol hears it too. He pulls back so harshly it feels like he is being ripped away, and you immediately stumble back a few paces, turning away from him. There is another thud, and then the door swings open.
“Eunhee.” You hear him say. His voice is stable, like he wasn’t breathing into your mouth mere seconds ago. Your stomach jolts. “You’re here. Good. I was just about to send for you.”
“My apologies, Sir Choi.” Your maid enters smoothly. You don’t hear any suspicion in her voice. You don’t turn. You feel like your ribs will crack under the forceful pounding of your heart.
“Her Highness has had some wine.” You feel like Seungcheol’s voice is far away, like you’re hearing him through a roaring waterfall. “Please take care of her.”
You don’t hear Eunhee’s reply, but the door shuts shortly after. You feel Eunhee’s gentle hands guide you with a grip on your arms to the large chair next to the fireplace. You want to flinch away, still drowning under the sensation of the strong grip that kept you on your feet mere moments ago. You’re sure your handmaid thinks you are a little foggy because of the alcohol, as you don’t usually drink and can’t hold a lot. But your senses have never been more sharp, your mind never more clear.
Once you’ve changed and laid down, with Eunhee in her cot already dead asleep, you stare at the dark ceiling, wondering what you have just done. And what you are about to do.
Because you know, with complete certainty, that you will do it again.
……………………………
You stay at your birth home for three more days before being scheduled to leave. Despite a myriad of new responsibilities for your brother, he spends ample time with you, and any time he isn’t with you, you spend catching up with the noblewomen of the castle, as well as your old handmaids. You do miss your old home, since you haven’t come back in a noticeable while. Given everything, you don’t come face to face with Seungcheol in complete privacy until you’re bidding Mingyu farewell and settling into your carriage. Petulantly enough, Seojoon chose not to sit with you, not that you mind.
You say your last goodbye through the window, smiling and waving delicately. Mingyu smiles broadly in farewell. Eunhee cushions your back to make you comfortable and retreats. Your heart skips when Seungcheol slides into the seat opposite to you. The horses’ hooves click and the convoy finally starts moving. Seconds after it picks up speed, Seungcheol shuts the curtain. Your eyes meet his in the enclosed space. The first time you have been completely alone with him since that night.
Heat sizzles. It cracks.
His body shifts to the seat next to you, his hand finds its place on the back of your head just like it did the first time. When he kisses you, you feel like new life is breathed into your soul. You return it immediately, scrambling to find purchase over his armor. The first touch of his lips feels like a cold drink on a hot summer day.
“Princess,” he breathes when you sigh into him, “forgive me. Forgive me. I am weak.”
You can barely shake your head against the grip he has on you. You kiss him harder, scowling when his heavy armor restricts your access to him.
“Stop apologising. I want this as much as you do.”
His groan cracks halfway. His lips never leave yours.
“Your Highness, I loathe disagreeing with you, but here I must.” He whispers, pulling away just slightly. You heave in a deep breath. His forehead meets yours and his eyes are wide, the warmest, fiercest brown, peering into yours, dripping with emotion that stabs your frantic heart.
“You have invaded my every thought for days. I remembered our kiss every night, and I prayed for the moment I could do it again.”
You’re the one pulling him in this time, kissing him like you’re hungry for it, like you’re starving. Seungcheol’s tongue, hot and insistent, finally crosses the threshold of your mouth. You keen into him. His free hand runs up and down your side, sending tingles over your clothed skin.
It’s a bump and jolt of the carriage under you that breaks the kiss. Your breaths are heavy, lips swollen and tingling. He is a vision, cheeks flushed, lips dark pink and wet with your spit. You flush at the sight. He brushes your hair behind your ear.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs. “You are the loveliest thing that has ever graced the soil of my country.”
You feel your face burn hot at the ardency in his words. You cannot even refuse, not even out of modesty. The earnest tone of his voice leaves no room for doubt. He means this with every fibre in him, you can tell.
“Stay with me forever, Seungcheol.”
His eyes almost melt. He closes them, leaning his forehead delicately against yours.
“I will never consider anything otherwise, Your Highness.”
Your heart feels at ease.
……………………………
The castle is in disarray when you return.
You cannot tell immediately, but there is a certain charge in the air. Jeonghan’s face is pulled taut, and you are not used to seeing him so worried. He is usually relaxed and in control, but it seems the King is particularly furious this time. The many months of distrustful behavior from his son have piled up. The Court’s Councillors don’t trust him anymore, especially not as Heir Apparent, and it seems they have planned a certain reckoning for him after his stint at your brother’s coronation.
You are sure it won’t end well, but you are not bothered. Your head is still in the clouds after the week of blissful traveling you just returned from. You still feel Seungcheol’s lips crowding yours, leaving them tingling. His hands had touched you, your waist, your side, your neck, never straying too much, but his very grip was charged and heavy. His tongue had explored every part of your mouth until you keened into him, and he pulled away to take deep breaths.
“You’re tempting me, Princess.” He would rasp. “You are leading me astray.”
And you loved it. You love that he wants you so much that he is willing to break loyalty to the Throne, that he needs you, all of you, your body, enough to defile your purity. You know his oath is different. He swore loyalty to you and you only, and not to anyone else. He got down on both knees for it. You tell him that, whisper to him to show you his devotion, to stand true to his oath and serve you the way he promised he would. His resulting answer would be a strained groan, and his kisses would be even heavier, even hotter.
You are least interested in whatever hell the Prince has landed himself in, but unfortunately, it has left the castle in terrible unrest. You hear of the gossip from your ladies-in-waiting, and despite their catty nature, you know their news is almost always reliable.
“The Prince is furious.”
“He thinks he is being publicly shamed.”
“He is. His Majesty has made jabs in Court. But hearing it from Noblemen and political advisors is particularly humiliating.”
“What do you think, Your Highness? Has he talked about it with you?”
You roll your eyes and focus on biting down on a grape, letting the sour juice flood your mouth. “Your Prince is too busy bedding any woman he lays eyes on to pay any attention to me.”
Not that you would want him to, but phrasing it like this puts the blame on him rather than you, and you have grown sharp enough to realise that. You also know that any word you say to these women will go straight back to the Queen, so your sentences have to be careful.
That night after dinner, Seungcheol escorts you to your chambers as always. You have yet to touch him since you returned, and you muse about it as you walk back, but his face is pinched, lost in thought.
“What is bothering you?” You ask.
He seems to snap out of it, blinking. He shakes his head. “Nothing of your concern, Your Highness.”
You purse your lips. “I still want to know.”
He hums. “We have been refreshing and developing war plans. To be prepared for what is coming.”
You stop short, staring. Seungcheol freezes beside you as well.
“We are going to war?” Your voice is tinged with panic. Seungcheol immediately shakes his head.
“Not right now, no. But we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Don’t worry, Princess. Your brother is adept. He can handle this.”
You nod slowly, taking a deep breath. Seungcheol urges you to keep walking. When you reach your chamber doors, he pushes them open but stays outside.
“I must leave.” He looks regretful. “I left the meeting so I could escort you back. Jeonghan is awaiting my arrival.”
You fight to not smile, but you fail. You feel your face warm.
“You left the meeting just for this?”
His face softens and he returns the smile. “Of course.”
The hallway is empty. Your night guards are not here yet. Eunhee is next to the fireplace, but the door blocks her from seeing you. Your eyes run over your surroundings again, and when you think everything is clear, you step forward, laying your lips gently against his.
His breath hitches, and he barely has time to respond before you step back, fighting off the giddy smile on your face.
Seungcheol looks shocked, but he huffs out a laugh anyway, shaking his head.
“Good night, my Princess.”
“Good night, Sir Choi.”
He just laughs again, tonguing his cheek as you disappear behind the doors.
…………………………….
Your mornings have a quiet routine that you have perfected by now. You wake naturally early, an old habit inculcated in you. You wash, and are dressed and seated by the time Seungcheol appears with the morning’s work and any messages. You are not fond of large breakfasts, so Eunhee prepares fresh helpings of the fruit you like, as well as a warm cup of tea. Anything after leaving your chambers is for later, but the first couple of hours of the day are for you only. You enjoy that time immensely, and it grounds you to your reality. You are sure that without this routine, you would’ve lost your senses a long time ago.
Today is different, however.
You are roused from sleep to the sound of shouting. It takes a moment to register, but despite being sleep addled, your eyes pop open. There’s more thudding and shouting, and harsh voices float into your ears, muffled by distance and your heavy oak doors.
“Has anyone gone in or out?”
“No, Sir!”
“What about her maid?”
“She hasn’t arrived yet, Sir. Her usual time is one hour from now.”
You sit up at the sound of heavy footsteps. The door is pushed open and your mouth drops as Seungcheol steps inside. His steely eyes meet your weary, alarmed ones. He closes the door behind him and moves quickly, beelining to the door leading to your bath, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. You are shocked speechless, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from your eyes. He re-emerges, walking in the opposite direction to look behind the heavy velvet drapes on your windows. He checks the lock on the balcony doors before pulling them open and stepping outside. You catch a glimpse of the sky. There is still no sun. The sky is only mildly lighter, and you realise it is the early hours of the morning.
He steps back inside, still hard-faced and on guard. He walks to your bed, sinking down to one knee so he can look under it.
“Seungcheol.” You finally speak, voice slightly hoarse from sleep. “What is happening?”
When your Knight resurfaces, this time closer to you, you realise that he looks way more worried than he ever has previously. He looks at the door, which is still closed, and finally lets himself relax, though only mildly. He sits next to you on the edge of the bed. You have the brief thought that you are in nothing more than a single layer of cloth, a linen chemise you always wear for sleep. Seungcheol has never seen you like this. He has never sat on your bed. But one look at the pinched expression on his face tells you that is the least of his concerns right now.
“Has anyone visited you overnight?” He asks, his tone urgent. You shake your head.
“Did you eat anything after dinner yesterday?”
You think. “I had tea before going to sleep.”
“Who prepared it?”
“Eunhee. She always prepares it.”
“Anything else?”
“No. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard any strange noises? Anything about the guards moving at night?”
“No.” Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Tell me, Seungcheol.”
Finally, he sighs, one hand reaching up to run tiredly down his face.
“His Majesty the King has passed away.”
You gasp, hands coming up to clamp your mouth in horror. A million questions immediately rush to your brain, but it seems that Seungcheol is ahead of you.
“Court physicians have confirmed it was apoplexy, a seizure in the humors of the brain.” He explains. “The Queen is beside herself. She’s the one who found him, sitting straight up in bed.”
You are frozen still. You cannot even process.
“Most of the castle still doesn’t know, only some chief councillors, court physicians and nurses. The news will probably break at dawn. Everyone is devastated, but the Prince…”
This is when he falters, jaw clenching and eyes glazing over. “He’s not…. acting right.”
“He just lost his father, Seungcheol.” You finally say, your voice shaking. You loathe the man, but you can understand that hurt. You know the King was wildly beloved.
“It’s not that, Your Highness. He’s strangely erratic. He wants to take over quickly. He’s already talking about a Coronation.”
Your eyebrows furrow. Coronation? At a time like this?
“Maybe because of the uncertainty? We are looming ever closer to a war…”
He lets out a sigh and nods slowly. “That’s what everyone believes. Something just isn’t right.”
A small silence descends. You think about what has happened, and it hits you that, once your husband officially takes the Throne, you will become Queen Consort. Your duties will change, your routine will shift. Everything is about to be different.
Seungcheol seems to snap out of his deep thoughts, finally looking at you. “I wanted to rush to your side immediately, to check if you were okay. His Majesty’s demise is suspect at best. Jeonghan is convinced the Heir Apparent had something to do with it. If he can, theoretically, have his father killed, then…”
He shakes his head, as if he can’t finish the thought.
“What makes you think he had him killed?” Your eyebrows furrow. You still don’t believe it.
Seungcheol shrugs. “These past few days, the King has been harsh on him. His court officials have been egging him on. Plus, with the impending war, him taking the Throne as King means he will take command of troops and form strategies in the field. Had he gone into war as a Prince, he would be expected to fight on the frontlines.”
Seungcheol’s face hardens, like he is disgusted, but he bites his tongue. You know, had it been anyone other than the Prince, Seungcheol would have called him a coward. But respect binds him from doing so.
“It’s just a hunch, an intuition I’ve honed over many years.” He continues. “Jeonghan agrees with me. However, the political unrest right now is too severe. Everyone will scramble to establish stable leadership. And as the physician has declared it natural causes, I doubt there will be any more questioning into this, despite Her Majesty the Queen’s hysteria about it. It is open and shut.”
You nod slowly. You trust Seungcheol’s instinct completely. He has never been wrong, and he has never let you down. If he has this suspicion, then to you, it is with sound reasoning. You’re still reeling at the news, but there is a strange calm in your chest. You know that is because Seungcheol is in your presence. If you had heard the news from anyone else, you would be incredibly distressed right now, but he makes you feel safe.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Seungcheol’s face softens and his eyes focus on you. For the first time since he came, he smiles.
“You were my first thought when I heard. I had to confirm that you were okay.”
Your heart lifts. You shift to get closer to him. His eyes shoot down, and his jaw slacks. You watch with amusement as he realises for the first time that you are in your private clothes.
“My apologies for barging in here.” He says. You watch him make the effort to not look down, instead staring over your shoulder and blinking rapidly. You suppress a giggle.
“You did it for my safety.” You respond. Slowly, you lift your hand so you can place it over the sleeve of his jacket, running up the bend of his elbow to his bicep. You see his chest rise in a deep breath.
“Won’t you stay a little longer?”
Seungcheol risks looking in your eyes. His resolve fails him, and his gaze travels down again. The collar of your chemise dips. This close, he can see the skin past it, and his ears redden. You’ve always been buried under layers and layers of cloth and corset. This is all new to him. His hand twitches. Under his attention, you feel a slight shyness creep up on you.
“I must go.” He mumbles, but his eyes travel hungrily down your torso. You feel a shiver run through your body at how they darken. His attention sends a thrill down your spine, like your nerves are igniting. You love the feeling of it.
“It’s still a while until dawn breaks.” You push forward until your nose nudges his cheek. His lips part and he sighs. You feel it on your bare neck, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns his head, and his lips brush yours.
“I can’t, Princess. Forgive me.” His voice is strained, and it feels like the sentence pains him. His mouth slides over yours, until it feels like you are swallowing his words. “The guards have already sent for Eunhee. She will be here in minutes.”
It seems like saying it out loud breaks the tension a little, and slowly Seungcheol pulls away. You sigh and lean back, hyperaware of how heated your body feels.
“I miss you, Seungcheol.” You pout. “It has been days.”
Your Knight’s lips quirk up in a small, apologetic smile. “I’m regretful, Your Highness. But I promise you, once the dust settles, I am all yours to do with as you please.”
There is a heated promise in his words. You flush deeply and nod. You don’t know what to say. Every muscle in your body feels like it is wound up in anticipation. Seungchoel has kissed you breathless, but his lips have never drifted to any part of yours beyond your mouth. You know what his words imply, and the thrill of it nearly leaves you dizzy. You have always known how attractive Seungcheol is, both in body and soul. He’s your closest companion, and you have never wanted anyone the way you have wanted him, even if you are uncertain of what exactly it is that you want. You never consummated your marriage. You are as pure as the first rain of summer. And you want only him to touch every part of you.
Seungcheol reaches for you, his hand winding around the side of your neck to cup it. He has this habit. He did it extensively in the carriage, and you love it. It comes with a strange sense of possession that grounds you and makes your nerves feel alive. He speaks again.
“Do not leave your room until I come get you. Eunhee will remain here. Likely, your ladies-in-waiting will arrive early in the morning and stay with you for a while.”
You nod. He continues, but this time it is gentle. Reassuring.
“Things will change very quickly. But you need not worry. I am here, always. No harm shall come to you, okay?”
You nod again, heart melting at his words, tilting your face into his hand. You lay a small kiss on his palm. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
Finally, he takes his hand away even though you don’t wish for him to. You watch him stand and look around once more, sighing and walking to the door. He gives you one final look and smile before he carefully leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. You can hear his voice vaguely through the doors, instructing the guards. You lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.
Things are about to take a drastic turn. But you feel more assured than you have in years.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.9k
warnings (for this chapter): angst, hurt/comfort, feelings of loneliness and isolation, humiliation, tears, rebellion, some fluff, may have historical inaccuracies, mildly suggestive content, some politics and mentions of war, mentions of death.
series masterlist
One year and one month after your wedding, you receive a letter from your older brother.
It is held gingerly in Seungcheol’s hands one morning when he comes to your chambers to give you a rundown of the schedule for the day. You are not one to receive much correspondence, so you notice the sealed parchment in his hand immediately, raising an eyebrow.
“It is from your brother.” Your Knight says, a shadow passing over his face. You freeze, your cup of morning tea halfway between your lap and your mouth. You did not expect Mingyu of all people to write to you, especially because he had not reached out since the one and only letter he wrote to you went unanswered over a year ago. Truthfully, you feel like you have nothing to say to your brother. You believed for a long time that he was your only well-wisher in the castle you grew up in, only to realise that he selfishly just wanted to marry you off to scum so he could inherit a stable Crown. You haven’t spoken to him since you left.
You hold a hand out for the letter. Seungcheol hesitates. “Are you sure, Princess?”
You give him a dry look, one he has gotten very used to as part of your usual antics. Antics you reserve only for him and your handmaid Eunhee, who is currently peeling fruit for you. Anyone else would call you disrespectful and not a graceful, well-trained Princess. But Seungcheol would never judge. He likes it when you are authentic to yourself; he has stated that multiple times.
The parchment is warm and your hands are stable as you peel off the wax seal and unfold the letter. Mingyu’s familiar, neat scrawl makes something claw at your throat. You read the letter at a more rushed pace than you normally would, because despite everything, you want to know what he has to say. Then you read it again. Then a third time. Neither your Knight nor your handmaid say anything.
Then you finally lower the letter to your lap, and take a deep breath.
“My parents have passed away.”
Eunhee freezes, head shooting up to look at you. Seungcheol’s posture stiffens in the chair where he sits. His mouth has dropped open.
“He’s-” You swallow tightly when you hear your voice waver. “He’s inviting me to attend his coronation next month.”
Seungcheol reaches for the letter. “May I?”
You let it drop into his hand. You have no secrets from him.
Seungcheol reads over the letter carefully, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stare at the flames dancing in your fireplace. You hear him sigh and fold the parchment, gesturing to Eunhee. Silently, Eunhee sets down the plates she’s holding and leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a careful click.
“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol asks once you’re alone, voice low. You take a deep breath, trying to detangle the mess of thoughts in your head.
You were never close with your parents. Your mother had no intention of having another child after she had already birthed an heir, and the only reason she was willing to have more was to have another son in case the Crown fell upon him. Her reaction to your birth was apathy, to put it mildly. And she had maintained this indifference your entire life. You were raised in the hands of maids and other noblewomen. Your father was a busy man, and you would often go months without exchanging two words with him. This news of their deaths brings back memories that are not very fond, reminding you of the insignificance you felt your entire life, and how difficult it was to finally make your spine rigid, to make your words have meaning. Years of insecurity and feelings of worthlessness had to be undone for this.
“I don’t know. I am shocked, I suppose.” You tilt your head, another question entering your mind. “How come I heard it straight from Mingyu? Wouldn’t he have sent a messenger from the castle as soon as it happened?”
Seungcheol nods. “Normally, yes. But you are aware that it is not a reassuring state of affairs between this monarchy and your previous one.”
Right. You do know that. Your refusal to acknowledge this marriage, to consummate it or pay respect to its sanctity, has meant that your parents’ efforts to form political ties were in vain. The political stability guaranteed by this union did not stand strong. Tensions have risen. You have been a thorn in the side of the reigning King and Queen, as well as your husband, the Crown Prince, so any alliance formed with your blood family is essentially null and void, and exists only on paper. You know your married family is furious at your refusal to comply, which makes them unwilling to cooperate for any sort of relations with your blood family. The only reason you are still in this castle as a Crown Princess is because you are wedded in the eyes of the Church, and no matter how badly your husband and his mother would like to get rid of you, the Church elders and court officials will not let that stand.
There is, also, the fact that none of the Prince’s mistresses seem to be getting pregnant. If this monarchy has any hope of getting an heir, they must hold on to you, or the royal bloodline will die. So all these circumstances, no matter how atrocious, have given you a weapon, leverage, to hold your position. While there are parts of you that are unsure about yourself, that will always be doubtful of your place, you are much more solid on your feet than you used to be when you first arrived here.
In big part, this confidence comes from the man sitting in front of you right now.
That night one year ago, while on his knees and his forehead pressed to your leg, Seungcheol had sworn his life and his loyalty to you in a gesture that stays with you to this very day. Seungcheol recognised a fire in you that everyone always dismissed as petulance and immaturity. But to him, that fire is strength, it is resilience. He believes mental armor is just as, if not more, impenetrable than physical one. And over the last year, he has helped you build it up to what it is today. Your no-nonsense attitude that keeps your enemies under your thumb is all thanks to him and his blind faith in you.
“Nowhere near that, Your Highness.” He always protests when you show your gratitude. “Your strength is yours alone. You just needed to know how to harness it.”
“And you’re the one who taught me that, Sir Choi.” Your voice is teasing. He huffs.
“Please do not call me that. You know it sounds too pretentious to me.”
You grin and nudge him. “I know. That’s why I call you it. Watching you pout is endlessly amusing.”
“You sound like Jeonghan.”
That makes you laugh.
Seungcheol has loosened up a lot after being in your service for so long. He meets your eyes, and is unafraid from voicing his opinions, because you enthusiastically encourage it. When you are playful, he indulges it and even plays along to the best of his ability. But throughout it all, he doesn’t forget his duty. He protects you fiercely, not just from physical attacks, but verbal ones too. Seungcheol has a lot of influence among the Royal Guard, since he is a garrison commander and has lived in the castle all his life. Most people are afraid of him, and so they don’t speak ill of you directly. Any area not within his jurisdiction can easily be dealt with by Jeonghan, who is slated to be the future Chief Councillor to the Crown. You often like to think of it as forming a shield between you and the outside world, and as long as Seungcheol is in your immediate vicinity, you feel completely safe.
It is a no-brainer that your Knight will come with you to attend your brother’s coronation. What you are endlessly displeased by is the fact that your husband, Seojoon, will be joining you as well.
“He makes my skin crawl.” You mumble as you stand by your carriage while Eunhee arranges your seating to be as comfortable as possible. Seungcheol, who stands one pace behind you, hums sympathetically.
“My deepest apologies, Princess. But the implication of him not being there could be catastrophic. We cannot risk that. If your brother’s nation has any more unrest, or if his enemies realise our alliance with him is weak, it could push them to the brink of war.”
You nod, because you know he’s right. Your home country has always struggled, but it has been particularly harsh for the last few years, with neighboring countries eyeing the territory. Despite the weak political ties, there was still an alliance on paper there, and your brother going to war would pull your country into it too.
“Besides,” you feel Seungcheol’s voice lower a few decibels, and he leans a little closer to you, “the Prince’s image needs rehabilitation.”
You pull your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling. You have heard the whispers of the Prince’s reputation. His indulgence in worrying amounts of mead, his rowdy gaggle of hunting companions, and the endless lines of mistresses cannot be contained within the castle. Word spreads, especially between workers who go in and out of the castle, and while your own standing with the public isn’t favourable, it doesn’t matter as much as the Prince’s. You are, after all, disposable, in the Queen’s words. Something she never fails to remind you of. But the Prince needs to be favored, since he has to take the throne. He needs this more than you.
As you wait for the carriage to be prepped, you wander along the walls of the gardens, admiring the new bloom of flowers. Servants move between the convoy, carrying luggage and tending to horses. Seungcheol is busy organising the guard that would escort you, making sure there are no cracks in their formation. He is in full armor, which you rarely see inside the castle. Large plates of steel cover his front, arm and legs. It clinks only slightly as he moves, fitted perfectly to his body. When you feel your breath slow as you watch him, you know you must look away.
You have that questionable habit. You like to stare at your Knight.
The sun hits his dark hair and makes it look a lighter brown than usual, standing out more against his pale skin. The armor gleams, and a small layer of sweat is forming on his forehead. His voice is harsh as he barks orders, booming timbre that reaches you even though you stand afar. You look away because you are in public, and you know people will notice. You already know of the rumors. There are many explanations about why you refuse to let the Prince bed you, and one of them is that you already have a lover, and that you are an unfaithful, scarlet woman.
You don’t pay heed to the rumors. Your name is already disgraced. You no longer care, as long as no one says it to your face. And Seungcheol won’t let that happen.
You turn your eyes to the rest of the convoy as the crowd gets denser. Eunhee is instructing the guards handling your personal luggage. Jeonghan is talking to another man towards the tail end of the carriages. Standing some far off are three women, and you feel your blood run cold as you recognise them.
Concubines. More particularly, your husband’s.
You would recognise them anywhere, particularly Hana. She has a certain reputation within the castle walls, especially in regards to you, since she holds you in no authority and is openly disrespectful. Seungcheol loathes her blatant disregard of you, but the favor she incurs from the Crown Prince is unquestionable. She wears jewelry meant only for royals, bought personally by your husband. It is another reason why the Prince is not liked; he has no respect for the chastity of royal titles. He treats her, a commoner, with more regard than she could ever deserve. She walks through the castle halls like she owns them, wearing layers too scarce for a woman and causing scandal, badmouthing you loudly. She was not trained by royal standards, so she is mannerless. Noblemen and women hate her, but she cares not because she lays with the Heir Apparent at night.
She boils your blood.
Before you can say anything or react, the three women are shown to a carriage at the end of the line. They step into it, talking and whispering among themselves. You bite the inside of your cheek and beeline your way to Jeonghan, your dress billowing in the wind behind you. The man he is talking to immediately falls silent as you approach, and Jeonghan turns to see what has happened. He smiles when he realises that it’s you.
“Princess,” he greets warmly, “a pleasure as always.”
“He’s taking his women?” Your voice is hard as stone, ignoring his words. Jeonghan stares, gesturing to the man behind him to dismiss him. The man bows and leaves quickly. He turns back to you.
“His orders were explicit.”
“My birth family does not indulge in concubines.” Your voice shakes more the longer you speak. “If my husband comes with me to attend my brother’s coronation and brings concubines with him, I will be humiliated.”
Jeonghan’s face softens. He looks truly apologetic. “I told him that. I strongly advised against it, because it will only damage his reputation more. He…. didn’t heed my words.”
Your teeth grind so hard it sends a shooting pain through your jaw. You blink away hot tears before they can fall. You’re too emotional to notice Seungcheol’s concerned stare at a distance, or how he watches you closely.
It has taken so long for you to be relatively normal about the situation you are living in. Every once in a while, you still stain your pillow wet with your tears, and it took time, but by now you have more or less accepted your fate. This, however, might be too much to bear. Your old kingdom, the people who watched you grow as a princess within their grounds, could not see this. You could not stand for them to witness the constant shame you endure. You have nothing, but you still have your self respect. This will be too much.
Seungcheol seems on guard and rigid as you climb into your own carriage while you do everything in your power to swallow the terrible knot in your throat. You know your distress is making him uneasy, but you’re too busy trying to keep your composure while out in public. Your heart is pounding, and ugly emotions of panic and humiliation are swelling in your chest. Eunhee works quietly to settle you, and before she can ask if you need anything, you are already waving her off. As soon as she leaves the carriage, your face crumples.
Hot, thick tear tracks roll down your cheeks readily, as if they have been waiting. You try to tamp your sobs, your shoulders shaking with the effort. Your napkin gets wet with your tears as you wipe them, but they show no signs of stopping. You don’t know how to suppress your onslaught of feelings. It’s too much to take.
In the distance, you can hear the man at the head of the convoy call for all to move. The door opens. Seungcheol steps in and sits opposite to you. He freezes, takes one look at your face, and his own hardens. You are sure that Jeonghan has told him about the situation, but this is still new to him. Despite how close you are, your Knight has never seen you cry.
“I’m sorry you have to witness this.” You hiccup shakily as the carriage starts moving. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks, a noticeable movement, and he shakes his head quickly.
“Your Highness need not apologise.” He says, and you’re nearly shocked into silence at how his voice shakes. Is it from anger? You cannot tell. You’ve never heard Seungcheol waver. You sniffle and watch him. Somehow, his reaction quietens your own tears. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look at you, but his leather gloved hands are curled into fists on his thighs. He appears agitated, and you know instinctively that it’s because of your anguish. Somehow, that settles the loneliness growing in your chest. His anger on your behalf eases you. The curtains of the carriage are closed. You sit here alone with him. You think of the grand carriage at the tail end of the convoy that your husband sits in shamelessly with three other women. Your heart squeezes.
“Seungcheol,” you shift yourself to the right to make room, “sit with me.”
Your Knight blinks. “Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare-”
“Please.” Your face crumples again. “Please.”
He shifts immediately, two smooth movements before he is turning his body and sitting down next to you. You waste no time in scooting closer, until your arm presses against the tough, steel plates covering his. It’s rigid, but the cold of it gives you stability. Comfort.
“Never, ever plead with me, Princess.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds strained. “If I don’t listen to your orders on one call, I have failed as your Knight. It is beneath you to ask twice.”
You stare straight ahead. Your tears still flow freely, trailing down from your jaw until they wet your neck too. No one has touched you, not even through metal armor, in over a year. You remember Mingyu hugging you before you boarded the carriage on your way to your new home. Besides Eunhee’s hands dressing you and combing your hair every day, the only touch you remember is the delicate kiss Seungcheol laid on your knuckles the day he was declared your Champion.
Your heart squeezes. You are starved.
“Hold my hand.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. This time, Seungcheol does not hesitate. Warm, stiff leather meets bare skin. His large hand slides over yours, squeezing tightly. You sigh, your eyes closing. A few more stray tears escape.
You lay your head on the stiff plate over his shoulder as the carriage moves steadily on.
…………………………………..
The journey is brutal, mostly because you spend every day filled with the dread of getting to your destination. Your first few nights within your own lands, noble families along your route host you, grand affairs as they welcome you to their homes, that you attend in a state of emotional numbness. You request that Eunhee stay with you overnight, and she sleeps in a cot in the same room as you. You toss and turn, void of any sleep or comfort, despite the lengths your guests go to for that very goal.
Your only relief is in your carriage, with your Knight.
Seungcheol holds your hand as long as you desire it. He runs his thumb over the back of it, comforting circles of sure, firm leather that ground your rampaging thoughts. You sigh, your cheek pressed to the stiff armor on his body. For a few, blissful moments, your racing thoughts quieten.
“Must you wear this at all times?” You mumble, gesturing to the metal. He chuckles.
“I must, my Princess.” He muses. “However else will I be ready to protect you should the need arise?”
You hum and sigh, feeling surety in his touch. He has started saying that, my Princess. Like you are his. You are sure he means nothing by it except a show of his unwavering devotion, and a comfort to you in trying times like these. But it lights a fire in your chest, anyway. You move closer, your thigh pressing to his, and your face heats at the proximity. Layers of clothes and metal plates interfere between you two, but Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens. His breath hitches. Your mind runs to places it shouldn’t.
Seven days of travel later, you finally arrive at your childhood home.
Mingyu stands at the gate with a grand reception. Prior to your arrival, the convoy was rearranged, and you were placed in the same carriage as the Prince, while his concubines were relocated. Just the thought of sitting in there made you sick, but you sucked it up for the sake of the occasion. You are quick to exit when you arrive, unable to stay in the same space as Seojoon any longer.
Mingyu has aged only one year since you last saw him, but he looks much older. You wonder if it’s the strain of your parents’ sudden deaths (severe lung infections, he tells you), mixed with the fact that he has to quickly scramble to prepare for the Throne. You know for a fact that he wasn’t prepared for this. Well, every heir is prepared to an extent, but Mingyu saw this to be somewhere in the distant future, and not so soon. He is dressed in royal blue and gold, your family colors, and seeing him sends a shock of bittersweet pain through your chest.
Despite everything, you missed him.
The feast arranged for your arrival is grand as anything, and you spend all your time catching up with Mingyu. He speaks to you so warmly that it is almost a shock. You had forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like you mean something. Immediately afterward, he offers for you both to retire to his private study for more time together, while your husband and your servants are shown to their rooms. Seungcheol asks thrice if you are okay to be alone, and you reassure him that you are.
“I wouldn’t mind if you joined us, Sir Choi.” Mingyu smiles. “And you too, Chief Advisor Yoon.”
You stare at Mingyu, shocked, when he deliberately leaves out Seojoon, who is sitting at the same dinner table. You can feel your husband stiffen next to you, and his face twists in an ugly sneer. But he doesn’t say anything. Jeonghan and Seungcheol both politely decline the invitation, as it would be disrespectful to accept when the Heir Apparent has not even been asked. You feel a sick satisfaction at the way Mingyu has dealt with the situation, returning to your meal and taking a bite to hide your smile.
You ask him about it when you’re walking to his study. It’s just the two of you, along with Seungcheol, who is five paces behind you, escorting you to where you need to be.
“Seojoon won’t be happy. That was blatant disrespect.”
Mingyu scoffs. “Good. Your marital family hasn’t exactly upheld their end of our alliance. My borders are distressed and I’m hurtling headfirst into a war. If disrespecting my brother in law is going to wake the King up a little, then so be it.”
You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know I’m the reason why they won’t cooperate with you. I am yet to give them an heir.”
Mingyu’s voice hardens. “Producing an heir was never part of the deal. It was you in exchange for political stability.”
Your throat tightens. Mingyu falters.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is more sombre now, when his words register to him. You shake your head. You are entirely used to people talking about you like an object.
“It’s fine. You’re not wrong.”
“I still feel guilty.”
“I’m aware.”
You enter Mingyu’s library through large mahogany doors. Seungcheol gives you a cautious look. You nod at him, hopefully reassuredly. The door finally closes between you.
The fireplace is roaring, lively flames that set the room aglow with a soft, golden light. You settle in one of two armchairs facing it, and Mingyu takes the other one. A chambermaid stands a few feet away, and Mingyu gestures for her to serve tea.
“I was also angry.” Mingyu speaks up. You look at him to continue. His face is colder now, like he has been deeply insulted.
“He brought not one, not two, but three concubines to his wife’s birth home, to attend her brother’s coronation. He has crossed a line.”
You bite the inside of your lip, watching the maid place a delicate cup of tea on the table next to you. You don’t reply to Mingyu, because you don’t know what to say.
“There’s rumors, you know?” He mumbles. “Traveling merchants love to spread gossip, and my advisor has a good idea about how public perception is currently looking. Your people are particularly distasteful of him. I’m unsure of how he will be able to peacefully take the Throne without massive unrest.”
You sigh and nod. You know of the rumors. You also know that they are entirely his doing, so you feel no sympathy for him.
“Speaking of unrest,” you begin, “I’m more concerned about how things are looking for you.”
When Mingyu sighs this time, it’s pained and heavy. He looks like he bears a huge, invisible burden. You watch him run a hand over his face.
“We’re being provoked to it.” He says. “There have been attacks on our entire eastern border. There’s only so much we can hold off before we retaliate. Father had been pushing for negotiations before illness took him. That’s why we are rushing a Coronation. I need to be in power so I can do something more diplomatic and not let this escalate.”
You stare into the fire, thinking. “But if it does, we will go to war with you.”
Mingyu nods. “You will have to. It’s in writing.”
“Right.” Your mind is racing with just one thought, and despite everything, it seems your brother knows exactly what thought it is.
“That includes your Knight.” He states.
Your head whips up to look at him. He does not look disapproving, or judgemental. Instead, he has a tiny smile playing on his face.
“I’m not daft, you know? The way he looks at you goes far beyond the realm of duty to the Crown.”
You feel your cheeks burn hot, and you look away from Mingyu’s shrewd stare, scowling. He laughs.
“You misunderstand him.” You respond. “He’s very devoted.”
Mingyu hums in a way that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Sure.”
Your heart pounds. You focus on sipping your tea, scalding your tongue with the first sip, but you do not care. Mingyu breaks the awkward air.
“He has a reputation too, you know? Your Knight.”
You look at Mingyu curiously. “What do you mean?”
He shifts a little, crossing one leg over the other. “He leads a garrison known for fearsome battle expertise. He is an excellent fighter. He was the youngest member of the Royal Guard to receive a Knightship. And he comes from a very prominent village of business and trade. Any merchant from your country sings his praises. Your public loves him.”
You feel something like pride swirl inside you. You smile at your cup.
“He deserves it.”
Mingyu hums.
“If he fights in this war with his garrison, there is no way we will lose.”
Your grip on your cup tightens. A slow sense of dread takes root in your chest as you think about the possibility of Seungcheol not being by your side, but laying his life on the line at your borders. You try vehemently to push it away. “There is no war. And there will be none.”
Mingyu says nothing. He only stares. You go back to your tea.
……………………………
Despite such short notice for arrangements, Mingyu’s coronation is grand as anything. You think this has to do, in part, with the mere presence your brother has. Tall, regal, confident. Like he was born to be on the Throne, like his whole life was a mere filler leading up to this moment. You are truly happy to see him bear the heavy Crown. You have complete confidence in his ability to lead his people.
The feast is grand, the banquet afterwards is even grander. Seojoon seemed to take the slight from your first evening here personally, because in the days that follow, all through the Coronation and the subsequent celebrations, he behaves like a poorly raised child. Halfway through the banquet, he disappears from your side after drinking half the supply of alcohol instead of tastefully sipping it like everyone else. You can hear the whispers of your guests, and you can see Mingyu’s smirk. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you’re sure the task of babysitting your husband feels impossible for him. You’re half-convinced he has fully given up. Word will reach the castle before you even say farewell to your brother. The King will be furious about his son’s antics and the impression he is leaving behind, as you know his monarchy means everything to him. The resulting damage control will go heavily in Mingyu’s favor so he can make more demands by using the insult Seojoon is giving to him as leverage.
Your brother can be ingenious sometimes.
Towards the end of the celebrations, you finally take leave from the gathering. Mingyu, still not entirely used to the new difference in rank between you two, gives you a hug before you retire for the night. You’re pleasantly surprised, and a little tipsy as well, so you giggle and return it. Truthfully, you missed this. You’ve been so starved of genuine affection that you don’t care if you’re breaking royal etiquette for a moment. You’re smiling widely as you leave, humming under your breath. Your Knight, who was your escort the entire night, seems to notice.
“You enjoyed yourself, Your Highness.” Seungcheol muses, one pace behind you as always. “I’m glad.”
You hum and giggle. “I did. I missed Mingyu. He was the only person in my birth home who showed me unfiltered kindness.”
He nods. “I can see that. His Majesty is truly kind. And he cares, despite everything. He will be a wonderful king.”
You turn to look at him. “He praised you too. Said your reputation precedes you. I was so shocked, Sir Choi. I didn’t know how famous you are.”
Seungcheol sighs and cringes visibly, and it only makes you laugh more. When you reach your guest chambers, he pushes the door open and guides you inside.
“I’m sure he exaggerates.”
You scoff in a manner truly undignified for a Princess, kicking your shoes off. Seungcheol watches you flounder around as the door shuts behind him.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not!” You give him an appalled look. He raises an eyebrow, but his lips fight to not tick up.
“I will send for Eunhee.”
You groan and step forward. “No.”
The word drags out of you, long and petulant. Your hands find Seungcheol’s chest, and you fiddle with the array of gold medals pinned to his ceremonial uniform. The deep maroon looks wonderful against his skin, and he’s studded with all his achievements, looking grander than you, you would argue, if you weren’t so heavily draped in shiny silk and golden jewelry. Up close, you can smell him, a scent of metal and warm wood.
Seungcheol’s hands shoot up instinctively to yours, delicately circling around your wrists. You can feel his heartbeat on your palm even through his jacket. You watch carefully, his touch shooting like sparks up your arm. He is not wearing gloves. This is the first time you’ve felt his skin against yours.
“Princess.” His voice is cautious. His posture has stiffened because of your proximity. You have never been this close to him before, except when he sat with you in your carriage.
“Mingyu said something else too.” You mumble, ignoring his warning. “He said…. that you’re in love with me.”
Not in so many words, but you want to see Seungcheol’s reaction. And you get it instantly. His entire torso turns rigid, and subconsciously, his grip on your wrists tightens. His eyes have widened, darting left to right between your own.
“Do you love me, Seungcheol?” You whisper.
All is silent for a few moments. Seungcheol heaves in a breath like it’s a struggle for him. “I pledged you my sword and my life.”
You minutely shake your head. When you step forward, rising slightly on your tip toes, your sigh mingles with his. The air freezes still, like it’s holding its breath, like it’s waiting for the melee to break.
“Answer me.” You breathe.
Seungcheol’s eyes screw shut. This close, you can count his individual eyelashes. You can see the small smattering of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You can see the way his skin is gradually pinkening the longer you stay so close to him.
“Please don’t ask this of me, Your Highness.” His voice is strained. “I have never lied to you. I do not wish to start today.”
Your eyes cloud. Your vision swims. Mingyu was right. He was right.
You step back, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, and the tension releases like the whistle on a steam engine. Seungcheol’s grip on your wrists loosens, then disappears. You see his chest rise in a deep breath, just before he opens his eyes. But he won’t look at you. The second there is distance between you, he falls to one knee.
“Please forgive me.” His voice shakes as he bows deeply. “I don’t deserve your grace, not after breaching your trust in the way that I have. I am a weak human in mind, my Princess. I have wavered. I let myself think of you impurely, unjustly. I will repent for the rest of my days if I have to.”
Your face crumples. Your heart twinges painfully in your chest at the waver in his voice, the genuine fear in it, and somehow, this pain is worse than any you have felt in the last year. The thought that loving you is something that made Seungcheol feel guilty is like knives to your chest. You don’t think. Instead, you drop to your knees too.
Seungcheol reacts immediately, hands gripping your arms and hauling you up before your knees can even feel the heat of the stone floor. He is shocked at the action, nearly balking at you as he holds you up. You grip the lapel of his jacket, trying to get your feet under you. He uses the hold on your arms to tug your closer. You freeze, looking up into his eyes.
“The day you kneel on the floor is the day I shatter my own kneecaps.” He rasps. His words make your stomach twinge. Your face flushes. Your eyes dart to his lips.
“Kiss me.”
Seungcheol blinks. You don’t know who you have shocked more, him or yourself. But once the words leave your mouth, you realise you want nothing more than this exact thing. It burns through your veins like a desire so aching it leaves your soul empty. You push forward again, despite how strong your Knight’s grip is on your arms, until you feel his nose brush the tip of yours.
“You said I would never have to ask twice.” Your voice trembles. It’s so quiet, you are half unsure if he has heard you. “You said it was beneath me.”
Seungcheol’s eyes squeeze shut again. He pulls in a long, laboured breath. When he opens them again, you feel a tug on your body, and soft lips meet yours with an insistent press.
You have heard of first kisses. You have heard of them in stories told by court entertainers and travellers, by old noblewomen who tell fairytales and sing folk songs. You imagined your own, once upon a time, with a man that is now your husband, who you have never let touch you. But your Knight, your Champion, is present before you, tall like standing oak, but with lips softer than your most delicate velvet, moving over your own with a surety you have long associated with him. You melt into him like he’s meant for you, and he is. He has sworn an oath to be your support, and he keeps it, his hands leaving your arms so one can wind carefully around your waist. Your body meets his in a soft push, and it’s like the tension leaves you like a relieved sigh. You feel fingers card through your hair, a familiar feeling because Eunhee does your hair every morning, but these fingers are thicker, stronger, and they cup the back of your head, tilt it, so his lips slot deeper into yours.
Your trembling hands rest on his shoulders. His body is solid, alive, as it moves with yours. Your breasts push against his chest, his arm that winds around you making sure not an inch of space separates you from him. Your feet almost leave the floor, the balls of your feet barely brushing the stone anymore, his strength holding you up. He feels divine against you. Your inhibitions are lowered, and you mewl into him.
“Princess.” He breathes into your mouth, voice tinged with desperation, but he never finishes the thought. He kisses you harder, grips you tighter, like letting you go will mean you will drift away. His body curves into you, your own arches into his. He invades your every sense. His tongue runs over your bottom lip. Something tightens severely in your lower stomach.
A thudding sound behind you shatters your high. Seungcheol hears it too. He pulls back so harshly it feels like he is being ripped away, and you immediately stumble back a few paces, turning away from him. There is another thud, and then the door swings open.
“Eunhee.” You hear him say. His voice is stable, like he wasn’t breathing into your mouth mere seconds ago. Your stomach jolts. “You’re here. Good. I was just about to send for you.”
“My apologies, Sir Choi.” Your maid enters smoothly. You don’t hear any suspicion in her voice. You don’t turn. You feel like your ribs will crack under the forceful pounding of your heart.
“Her Highness has had some wine.” You feel like Seungcheol’s voice is far away, like you’re hearing him through a roaring waterfall. “Please take care of her.”
You don’t hear Eunhee’s reply, but the door shuts shortly after. You feel Eunhee’s gentle hands guide you with a grip on your arms to the large chair next to the fireplace. You want to flinch away, still drowning under the sensation of the strong grip that kept you on your feet mere moments ago. You’re sure your handmaid thinks you are a little foggy because of the alcohol, as you don’t usually drink and can’t hold a lot. But your senses have never been more sharp, your mind never more clear.
Once you’ve changed and laid down, with Eunhee in her cot already dead asleep, you stare at the dark ceiling, wondering what you have just done. And what you are about to do.
Because you know, with complete certainty, that you will do it again.
……………………………
You stay at your birth home for three more days before being scheduled to leave. Despite a myriad of new responsibilities for your brother, he spends ample time with you, and any time he isn’t with you, you spend catching up with the noblewomen of the castle, as well as your old handmaids. You do miss your old home, since you haven’t come back in a noticeable while. Given everything, you don’t come face to face with Seungcheol in complete privacy until you’re bidding Mingyu farewell and settling into your carriage. Petulantly enough, Seojoon chose not to sit with you, not that you mind.
You say your last goodbye through the window, smiling and waving delicately. Mingyu smiles broadly in farewell. Eunhee cushions your back to make you comfortable and retreats. Your heart skips when Seungcheol slides into the seat opposite to you. The horses’ hooves click and the convoy finally starts moving. Seconds after it picks up speed, Seungcheol shuts the curtain. Your eyes meet his in the enclosed space. The first time you have been completely alone with him since that night.
Heat sizzles. It cracks.
His body shifts to the seat next to you, his hand finds its place on the back of your head just like it did the first time. When he kisses you, you feel like new life is breathed into your soul. You return it immediately, scrambling to find purchase over his armor. The first touch of his lips feels like a cold drink on a hot summer day.
“Princess,” he breathes when you sigh into him, “forgive me. Forgive me. I am weak.”
You can barely shake your head against the grip he has on you. You kiss him harder, scowling when his heavy armor restricts your access to him.
“Stop apologising. I want this as much as you do.”
His groan cracks halfway. His lips never leave yours.
“Your Highness, I loathe disagreeing with you, but here I must.” He whispers, pulling away just slightly. You heave in a deep breath. His forehead meets yours and his eyes are wide, the warmest, fiercest brown, peering into yours, dripping with emotion that stabs your frantic heart.
“You have invaded my every thought for days. I remembered our kiss every night, and I prayed for the moment I could do it again.”
You’re the one pulling him in this time, kissing him like you’re hungry for it, like you’re starving. Seungcheol’s tongue, hot and insistent, finally crosses the threshold of your mouth. You keen into him. His free hand runs up and down your side, sending tingles over your clothed skin.
It’s a bump and jolt of the carriage under you that breaks the kiss. Your breaths are heavy, lips swollen and tingling. He is a vision, cheeks flushed, lips dark pink and wet with your spit. You flush at the sight. He brushes your hair behind your ear.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs. “You are the loveliest thing that has ever graced the soil of my country.”
You feel your face burn hot at the ardency in his words. You cannot even refuse, not even out of modesty. The earnest tone of his voice leaves no room for doubt. He means this with every fibre in him, you can tell.
“Stay with me forever, Seungcheol.”
His eyes almost melt. He closes them, leaning his forehead delicately against yours.
“I will never consider anything otherwise, Your Highness.”
Your heart feels at ease.
……………………………
The castle is in disarray when you return.
You cannot tell immediately, but there is a certain charge in the air. Jeonghan’s face is pulled taut, and you are not used to seeing him so worried. He is usually relaxed and in control, but it seems the King is particularly furious this time. The many months of distrustful behavior from his son have piled up. The Court’s Councillors don’t trust him anymore, especially not as Heir Apparent, and it seems they have planned a certain reckoning for him after his stint at your brother’s coronation.
You are sure it won’t end well, but you are not bothered. Your head is still in the clouds after the week of blissful traveling you just returned from. You still feel Seungcheol’s lips crowding yours, leaving them tingling. His hands had touched you, your waist, your side, your neck, never straying too much, but his very grip was charged and heavy. His tongue had explored every part of your mouth until you keened into him, and he pulled away to take deep breaths.
“You’re tempting me, Princess.” He would rasp. “You are leading me astray.”
And you loved it. You love that he wants you so much that he is willing to break loyalty to the Throne, that he needs you, all of you, your body, enough to defile your purity. You know his oath is different. He swore loyalty to you and you only, and not to anyone else. He got down on both knees for it. You tell him that, whisper to him to show you his devotion, to stand true to his oath and serve you the way he promised he would. His resulting answer would be a strained groan, and his kisses would be even heavier, even hotter.
You are least interested in whatever hell the Prince has landed himself in, but unfortunately, it has left the castle in terrible unrest. You hear of the gossip from your ladies-in-waiting, and despite their catty nature, you know their news is almost always reliable.
“The Prince is furious.”
“He thinks he is being publicly shamed.”
“He is. His Majesty has made jabs in Court. But hearing it from Noblemen and political advisors is particularly humiliating.”
“What do you think, Your Highness? Has he talked about it with you?”
You roll your eyes and focus on biting down on a grape, letting the sour juice flood your mouth. “Your Prince is too busy bedding any woman he lays eyes on to pay any attention to me.”
Not that you would want him to, but phrasing it like this puts the blame on him rather than you, and you have grown sharp enough to realise that. You also know that any word you say to these women will go straight back to the Queen, so your sentences have to be careful.
That night after dinner, Seungcheol escorts you to your chambers as always. You have yet to touch him since you returned, and you muse about it as you walk back, but his face is pinched, lost in thought.
“What is bothering you?” You ask.
He seems to snap out of it, blinking. He shakes his head. “Nothing of your concern, Your Highness.”
You purse your lips. “I still want to know.”
He hums. “We have been refreshing and developing war plans. To be prepared for what is coming.”
You stop short, staring. Seungcheol freezes beside you as well.
“We are going to war?” Your voice is tinged with panic. Seungcheol immediately shakes his head.
“Not right now, no. But we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Don’t worry, Princess. Your brother is adept. He can handle this.”
You nod slowly, taking a deep breath. Seungcheol urges you to keep walking. When you reach your chamber doors, he pushes them open but stays outside.
“I must leave.” He looks regretful. “I left the meeting so I could escort you back. Jeonghan is awaiting my arrival.”
You fight to not smile, but you fail. You feel your face warm.
“You left the meeting just for this?”
His face softens and he returns the smile. “Of course.”
The hallway is empty. Your night guards are not here yet. Eunhee is next to the fireplace, but the door blocks her from seeing you. Your eyes run over your surroundings again, and when you think everything is clear, you step forward, laying your lips gently against his.
His breath hitches, and he barely has time to respond before you step back, fighting off the giddy smile on your face.
Seungcheol looks shocked, but he huffs out a laugh anyway, shaking his head.
“Good night, my Princess.”
“Good night, Sir Choi.”
He just laughs again, tonguing his cheek as you disappear behind the doors.
…………………………….
Your mornings have a quiet routine that you have perfected by now. You wake naturally early, an old habit inculcated in you. You wash, and are dressed and seated by the time Seungcheol appears with the morning’s work and any messages. You are not fond of large breakfasts, so Eunhee prepares fresh helpings of the fruit you like, as well as a warm cup of tea. Anything after leaving your chambers is for later, but the first couple of hours of the day are for you only. You enjoy that time immensely, and it grounds you to your reality. You are sure that without this routine, you would’ve lost your senses a long time ago.
Today is different, however.
You are roused from sleep to the sound of shouting. It takes a moment to register, but despite being sleep addled, your eyes pop open. There’s more thudding and shouting, and harsh voices float into your ears, muffled by distance and your heavy oak doors.
“Has anyone gone in or out?”
“No, Sir!”
“What about her maid?”
“She hasn’t arrived yet, Sir. Her usual time is one hour from now.”
You sit up at the sound of heavy footsteps. The door is pushed open and your mouth drops as Seungcheol steps inside. His steely eyes meet your weary, alarmed ones. He closes the door behind him and moves quickly, beelining to the door leading to your bath, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. You are shocked speechless, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from your eyes. He re-emerges, walking in the opposite direction to look behind the heavy velvet drapes on your windows. He checks the lock on the balcony doors before pulling them open and stepping outside. You catch a glimpse of the sky. There is still no sun. The sky is only mildly lighter, and you realise it is the early hours of the morning.
He steps back inside, still hard-faced and on guard. He walks to your bed, sinking down to one knee so he can look under it.
“Seungcheol.” You finally speak, voice slightly hoarse from sleep. “What is happening?”
When your Knight resurfaces, this time closer to you, you realise that he looks way more worried than he ever has previously. He looks at the door, which is still closed, and finally lets himself relax, though only mildly. He sits next to you on the edge of the bed. You have the brief thought that you are in nothing more than a single layer of cloth, a linen chemise you always wear for sleep. Seungcheol has never seen you like this. He has never sat on your bed. But one look at the pinched expression on his face tells you that is the least of his concerns right now.
“Has anyone visited you overnight?” He asks, his tone urgent. You shake your head.
“Did you eat anything after dinner yesterday?”
You think. “I had tea before going to sleep.”
“Who prepared it?”
“Eunhee. She always prepares it.”
“Anything else?”
“No. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard any strange noises? Anything about the guards moving at night?”
“No.” Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Tell me, Seungcheol.”
Finally, he sighs, one hand reaching up to run tiredly down his face.
“His Majesty the King has passed away.”
You gasp, hands coming up to clamp your mouth in horror. A million questions immediately rush to your brain, but it seems that Seungcheol is ahead of you.
“Court physicians have confirmed it was apoplexy, a seizure in the humors of the brain.” He explains. “The Queen is beside herself. She’s the one who found him, sitting straight up in bed.”
You are frozen still. You cannot even process.
“Most of the castle still doesn’t know, only some chief councillors, court physicians and nurses. The news will probably break at dawn. Everyone is devastated, but the Prince…”
This is when he falters, jaw clenching and eyes glazing over. “He’s not…. acting right.”
“He just lost his father, Seungcheol.” You finally say, your voice shaking. You loathe the man, but you can understand that hurt. You know the King was wildly beloved.
“It’s not that, Your Highness. He’s strangely erratic. He wants to take over quickly. He’s already talking about a Coronation.”
Your eyebrows furrow. Coronation? At a time like this?
“Maybe because of the uncertainty? We are looming ever closer to a war…”
He lets out a sigh and nods slowly. “That’s what everyone believes. Something just isn’t right.”
A small silence descends. You think about what has happened, and it hits you that, once your husband officially takes the Throne, you will become Queen Consort. Your duties will change, your routine will shift. Everything is about to be different.
Seungcheol seems to snap out of his deep thoughts, finally looking at you. “I wanted to rush to your side immediately, to check if you were okay. His Majesty’s demise is suspect at best. Jeonghan is convinced the Heir Apparent had something to do with it. If he can, theoretically, have his father killed, then…”
He shakes his head, as if he can’t finish the thought.
“What makes you think he had him killed?” Your eyebrows furrow. You still don’t believe it.
Seungcheol shrugs. “These past few days, the King has been harsh on him. His court officials have been egging him on. Plus, with the impending war, him taking the Throne as King means he will take command of troops and form strategies in the field. Had he gone into war as a Prince, he would be expected to fight on the frontlines.”
Seungcheol’s face hardens, like he is disgusted, but he bites his tongue. You know, had it been anyone other than the Prince, Seungcheol would have called him a coward. But respect binds him from doing so.
“It’s just a hunch, an intuition I’ve honed over many years.” He continues. “Jeonghan agrees with me. However, the political unrest right now is too severe. Everyone will scramble to establish stable leadership. And as the physician has declared it natural causes, I doubt there will be any more questioning into this, despite Her Majesty the Queen’s hysteria about it. It is open and shut.”
You nod slowly. You trust Seungcheol’s instinct completely. He has never been wrong, and he has never let you down. If he has this suspicion, then to you, it is with sound reasoning. You’re still reeling at the news, but there is a strange calm in your chest. You know that is because Seungcheol is in your presence. If you had heard the news from anyone else, you would be incredibly distressed right now, but he makes you feel safe.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Seungcheol’s face softens and his eyes focus on you. For the first time since he came, he smiles.
“You were my first thought when I heard. I had to confirm that you were okay.”
Your heart lifts. You shift to get closer to him. His eyes shoot down, and his jaw slacks. You watch with amusement as he realises for the first time that you are in your private clothes.
“My apologies for barging in here.” He says. You watch him make the effort to not look down, instead staring over your shoulder and blinking rapidly. You suppress a giggle.
“You did it for my safety.” You respond. Slowly, you lift your hand so you can place it over the sleeve of his jacket, running up the bend of his elbow to his bicep. You see his chest rise in a deep breath.
“Won’t you stay a little longer?”
Seungcheol risks looking in your eyes. His resolve fails him, and his gaze travels down again. The collar of your chemise dips. This close, he can see the skin past it, and his ears redden. You’ve always been buried under layers and layers of cloth and corset. This is all new to him. His hand twitches. Under his attention, you feel a slight shyness creep up on you.
“I must go.” He mumbles, but his eyes travel hungrily down your torso. You feel a shiver run through your body at how they darken. His attention sends a thrill down your spine, like your nerves are igniting. You love the feeling of it.
“It’s still a while until dawn breaks.” You push forward until your nose nudges his cheek. His lips part and he sighs. You feel it on your bare neck, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns his head, and his lips brush yours.
“I can’t, Princess. Forgive me.” His voice is strained, and it feels like the sentence pains him. His mouth slides over yours, until it feels like you are swallowing his words. “The guards have already sent for Eunhee. She will be here in minutes.”
It seems like saying it out loud breaks the tension a little, and slowly Seungcheol pulls away. You sigh and lean back, hyperaware of how heated your body feels.
“I miss you, Seungcheol.” You pout. “It has been days.”
Your Knight’s lips quirk up in a small, apologetic smile. “I’m regretful, Your Highness. But I promise you, once the dust settles, I am all yours to do with as you please.”
There is a heated promise in his words. You flush deeply and nod. You don’t know what to say. Every muscle in your body feels like it is wound up in anticipation. Seungchoel has kissed you breathless, but his lips have never drifted to any part of yours beyond your mouth. You know what his words imply, and the thrill of it nearly leaves you dizzy. You have always known how attractive Seungcheol is, both in body and soul. He’s your closest companion, and you have never wanted anyone the way you have wanted him, even if you are uncertain of what exactly it is that you want. You never consummated your marriage. You are as pure as the first rain of summer. And you want only him to touch every part of you.
Seungcheol reaches for you, his hand winding around the side of your neck to cup it. He has this habit. He did it extensively in the carriage, and you love it. It comes with a strange sense of possession that grounds you and makes your nerves feel alive. He speaks again.
“Do not leave your room until I come get you. Eunhee will remain here. Likely, your ladies-in-waiting will arrive early in the morning and stay with you for a while.”
You nod. He continues, but this time it is gentle. Reassuring.
“Things will change very quickly. But you need not worry. I am here, always. No harm shall come to you, okay?”
You nod again, heart melting at his words, tilting your face into his hand. You lay a small kiss on his palm. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
Finally, he takes his hand away even though you don’t wish for him to. You watch him stand and look around once more, sighing and walking to the door. He gives you one final look and smile before he carefully leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. You can hear his voice vaguely through the doors, instructing the guards. You lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.
Things are about to take a drastic turn. But you feel more assured than you have in years.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 9.9k
warnings (for this chapter): angst, hurt/comfort, feelings of loneliness and isolation, humiliation, tears, rebellion, some fluff, may have historical inaccuracies, mildly suggestive content, some politics and mentions of war, mentions of death.
series masterlist
One year and one month after your wedding, you receive a letter from your older brother.
It is held gingerly in Seungcheol’s hands one morning when he comes to your chambers to give you a rundown of the schedule for the day. You are not one to receive much correspondence, so you notice the sealed parchment in his hand immediately, raising an eyebrow.
“It is from your brother.” Your Knight says, a shadow passing over his face. You freeze, your cup of morning tea halfway between your lap and your mouth. You did not expect Mingyu of all people to write to you, especially because he had not reached out since the one and only letter he wrote to you went unanswered over a year ago. Truthfully, you feel like you have nothing to say to your brother. You believed for a long time that he was your only well-wisher in the castle you grew up in, only to realise that he selfishly just wanted to marry you off to scum so he could inherit a stable Crown. You haven’t spoken to him since you left.
You hold a hand out for the letter. Seungcheol hesitates. “Are you sure, Princess?”
You give him a dry look, one he has gotten very used to as part of your usual antics. Antics you reserve only for him and your handmaid Eunhee, who is currently peeling fruit for you. Anyone else would call you disrespectful and not a graceful, well-trained Princess. But Seungcheol would never judge. He likes it when you are authentic to yourself; he has stated that multiple times.
The parchment is warm and your hands are stable as you peel off the wax seal and unfold the letter. Mingyu’s familiar, neat scrawl makes something claw at your throat. You read the letter at a more rushed pace than you normally would, because despite everything, you want to know what he has to say. Then you read it again. Then a third time. Neither your Knight nor your handmaid say anything.
Then you finally lower the letter to your lap, and take a deep breath.
“My parents have passed away.”
Eunhee freezes, head shooting up to look at you. Seungcheol’s posture stiffens in the chair where he sits. His mouth has dropped open.
“He’s-” You swallow tightly when you hear your voice waver. “He’s inviting me to attend his coronation next month.”
Seungcheol reaches for the letter. “May I?”
You let it drop into his hand. You have no secrets from him.
Seungcheol reads over the letter carefully, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You stare at the flames dancing in your fireplace. You hear him sigh and fold the parchment, gesturing to Eunhee. Silently, Eunhee sets down the plates she’s holding and leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a careful click.
“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol asks once you’re alone, voice low. You take a deep breath, trying to detangle the mess of thoughts in your head.
You were never close with your parents. Your mother had no intention of having another child after she had already birthed an heir, and the only reason she was willing to have more was to have another son in case the Crown fell upon him. Her reaction to your birth was apathy, to put it mildly. And she had maintained this indifference your entire life. You were raised in the hands of maids and other noblewomen. Your father was a busy man, and you would often go months without exchanging two words with him. This news of their deaths brings back memories that are not very fond, reminding you of the insignificance you felt your entire life, and how difficult it was to finally make your spine rigid, to make your words have meaning. Years of insecurity and feelings of worthlessness had to be undone for this.
“I don’t know. I am shocked, I suppose.” You tilt your head, another question entering your mind. “How come I heard it straight from Mingyu? Wouldn’t he have sent a messenger from the castle as soon as it happened?”
Seungcheol nods. “Normally, yes. But you are aware that it is not a reassuring state of affairs between this monarchy and your previous one.”
Right. You do know that. Your refusal to acknowledge this marriage, to consummate it or pay respect to its sanctity, has meant that your parents’ efforts to form political ties were in vain. The political stability guaranteed by this union did not stand strong. Tensions have risen. You have been a thorn in the side of the reigning King and Queen, as well as your husband, the Crown Prince, so any alliance formed with your blood family is essentially null and void, and exists only on paper. You know your married family is furious at your refusal to comply, which makes them unwilling to cooperate for any sort of relations with your blood family. The only reason you are still in this castle as a Crown Princess is because you are wedded in the eyes of the Church, and no matter how badly your husband and his mother would like to get rid of you, the Church elders and court officials will not let that stand.
There is, also, the fact that none of the Prince’s mistresses seem to be getting pregnant. If this monarchy has any hope of getting an heir, they must hold on to you, or the royal bloodline will die. So all these circumstances, no matter how atrocious, have given you a weapon, leverage, to hold your position. While there are parts of you that are unsure about yourself, that will always be doubtful of your place, you are much more solid on your feet than you used to be when you first arrived here.
In big part, this confidence comes from the man sitting in front of you right now.
That night one year ago, while on his knees and his forehead pressed to your leg, Seungcheol had sworn his life and his loyalty to you in a gesture that stays with you to this very day. Seungcheol recognised a fire in you that everyone always dismissed as petulance and immaturity. But to him, that fire is strength, it is resilience. He believes mental armor is just as, if not more, impenetrable than physical one. And over the last year, he has helped you build it up to what it is today. Your no-nonsense attitude that keeps your enemies under your thumb is all thanks to him and his blind faith in you.
“Nowhere near that, Your Highness.” He always protests when you show your gratitude. “Your strength is yours alone. You just needed to know how to harness it.”
“And you’re the one who taught me that, Sir Choi.” Your voice is teasing. He huffs.
“Please do not call me that. You know it sounds too pretentious to me.”
You grin and nudge him. “I know. That’s why I call you it. Watching you pout is endlessly amusing.”
“You sound like Jeonghan.”
That makes you laugh.
Seungcheol has loosened up a lot after being in your service for so long. He meets your eyes, and is unafraid from voicing his opinions, because you enthusiastically encourage it. When you are playful, he indulges it and even plays along to the best of his ability. But throughout it all, he doesn’t forget his duty. He protects you fiercely, not just from physical attacks, but verbal ones too. Seungcheol has a lot of influence among the Royal Guard, since he is a garrison commander and has lived in the castle all his life. Most people are afraid of him, and so they don’t speak ill of you directly. Any area not within his jurisdiction can easily be dealt with by Jeonghan, who is slated to be the future Chief Councillor to the Crown. You often like to think of it as forming a shield between you and the outside world, and as long as Seungcheol is in your immediate vicinity, you feel completely safe.
It is a no-brainer that your Knight will come with you to attend your brother’s coronation. What you are endlessly displeased by is the fact that your husband, Seojoon, will be joining you as well.
“He makes my skin crawl.” You mumble as you stand by your carriage while Eunhee arranges your seating to be as comfortable as possible. Seungcheol, who stands one pace behind you, hums sympathetically.
“My deepest apologies, Princess. But the implication of him not being there could be catastrophic. We cannot risk that. If your brother’s nation has any more unrest, or if his enemies realise our alliance with him is weak, it could push them to the brink of war.”
You nod, because you know he’s right. Your home country has always struggled, but it has been particularly harsh for the last few years, with neighboring countries eyeing the territory. Despite the weak political ties, there was still an alliance on paper there, and your brother going to war would pull your country into it too.
“Besides,” you feel Seungcheol’s voice lower a few decibels, and he leans a little closer to you, “the Prince’s image needs rehabilitation.”
You pull your lips tight to keep yourself from smiling. You have heard the whispers of the Prince’s reputation. His indulgence in worrying amounts of mead, his rowdy gaggle of hunting companions, and the endless lines of mistresses cannot be contained within the castle. Word spreads, especially between workers who go in and out of the castle, and while your own standing with the public isn’t favourable, it doesn’t matter as much as the Prince’s. You are, after all, disposable, in the Queen’s words. Something she never fails to remind you of. But the Prince needs to be favored, since he has to take the throne. He needs this more than you.
As you wait for the carriage to be prepped, you wander along the walls of the gardens, admiring the new bloom of flowers. Servants move between the convoy, carrying luggage and tending to horses. Seungcheol is busy organising the guard that would escort you, making sure there are no cracks in their formation. He is in full armor, which you rarely see inside the castle. Large plates of steel cover his front, arm and legs. It clinks only slightly as he moves, fitted perfectly to his body. When you feel your breath slow as you watch him, you know you must look away.
You have that questionable habit. You like to stare at your Knight.
The sun hits his dark hair and makes it look a lighter brown than usual, standing out more against his pale skin. The armor gleams, and a small layer of sweat is forming on his forehead. His voice is harsh as he barks orders, booming timbre that reaches you even though you stand afar. You look away because you are in public, and you know people will notice. You already know of the rumors. There are many explanations about why you refuse to let the Prince bed you, and one of them is that you already have a lover, and that you are an unfaithful, scarlet woman.
You don’t pay heed to the rumors. Your name is already disgraced. You no longer care, as long as no one says it to your face. And Seungcheol won’t let that happen.
You turn your eyes to the rest of the convoy as the crowd gets denser. Eunhee is instructing the guards handling your personal luggage. Jeonghan is talking to another man towards the tail end of the carriages. Standing some far off are three women, and you feel your blood run cold as you recognise them.
Concubines. More particularly, your husband’s.
You would recognise them anywhere, particularly Hana. She has a certain reputation within the castle walls, especially in regards to you, since she holds you in no authority and is openly disrespectful. Seungcheol loathes her blatant disregard of you, but the favor she incurs from the Crown Prince is unquestionable. She wears jewelry meant only for royals, bought personally by your husband. It is another reason why the Prince is not liked; he has no respect for the chastity of royal titles. He treats her, a commoner, with more regard than she could ever deserve. She walks through the castle halls like she owns them, wearing layers too scarce for a woman and causing scandal, badmouthing you loudly. She was not trained by royal standards, so she is mannerless. Noblemen and women hate her, but she cares not because she lays with the Heir Apparent at night.
She boils your blood.
Before you can say anything or react, the three women are shown to a carriage at the end of the line. They step into it, talking and whispering among themselves. You bite the inside of your cheek and beeline your way to Jeonghan, your dress billowing in the wind behind you. The man he is talking to immediately falls silent as you approach, and Jeonghan turns to see what has happened. He smiles when he realises that it’s you.
“Princess,” he greets warmly, “a pleasure as always.”
“He’s taking his women?” Your voice is hard as stone, ignoring his words. Jeonghan stares, gesturing to the man behind him to dismiss him. The man bows and leaves quickly. He turns back to you.
“His orders were explicit.”
“My birth family does not indulge in concubines.” Your voice shakes more the longer you speak. “If my husband comes with me to attend my brother’s coronation and brings concubines with him, I will be humiliated.”
Jeonghan’s face softens. He looks truly apologetic. “I told him that. I strongly advised against it, because it will only damage his reputation more. He…. didn’t heed my words.”
Your teeth grind so hard it sends a shooting pain through your jaw. You blink away hot tears before they can fall. You’re too emotional to notice Seungcheol’s concerned stare at a distance, or how he watches you closely.
It has taken so long for you to be relatively normal about the situation you are living in. Every once in a while, you still stain your pillow wet with your tears, and it took time, but by now you have more or less accepted your fate. This, however, might be too much to bear. Your old kingdom, the people who watched you grow as a princess within their grounds, could not see this. You could not stand for them to witness the constant shame you endure. You have nothing, but you still have your self respect. This will be too much.
Seungcheol seems on guard and rigid as you climb into your own carriage while you do everything in your power to swallow the terrible knot in your throat. You know your distress is making him uneasy, but you’re too busy trying to keep your composure while out in public. Your heart is pounding, and ugly emotions of panic and humiliation are swelling in your chest. Eunhee works quietly to settle you, and before she can ask if you need anything, you are already waving her off. As soon as she leaves the carriage, your face crumples.
Hot, thick tear tracks roll down your cheeks readily, as if they have been waiting. You try to tamp your sobs, your shoulders shaking with the effort. Your napkin gets wet with your tears as you wipe them, but they show no signs of stopping. You don’t know how to suppress your onslaught of feelings. It’s too much to take.
In the distance, you can hear the man at the head of the convoy call for all to move. The door opens. Seungcheol steps in and sits opposite to you. He freezes, takes one look at your face, and his own hardens. You are sure that Jeonghan has told him about the situation, but this is still new to him. Despite how close you are, your Knight has never seen you cry.
“I’m sorry you have to witness this.” You hiccup shakily as the carriage starts moving. Seungcheol’s jaw ticks, a noticeable movement, and he shakes his head quickly.
“Your Highness need not apologise.” He says, and you’re nearly shocked into silence at how his voice shakes. Is it from anger? You cannot tell. You’ve never heard Seungcheol waver. You sniffle and watch him. Somehow, his reaction quietens your own tears. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look at you, but his leather gloved hands are curled into fists on his thighs. He appears agitated, and you know instinctively that it’s because of your anguish. Somehow, that settles the loneliness growing in your chest. His anger on your behalf eases you. The curtains of the carriage are closed. You sit here alone with him. You think of the grand carriage at the tail end of the convoy that your husband sits in shamelessly with three other women. Your heart squeezes.
“Seungcheol,” you shift yourself to the right to make room, “sit with me.”
Your Knight blinks. “Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare-”
“Please.” Your face crumples again. “Please.”
He shifts immediately, two smooth movements before he is turning his body and sitting down next to you. You waste no time in scooting closer, until your arm presses against the tough, steel plates covering his. It’s rigid, but the cold of it gives you stability. Comfort.
“Never, ever plead with me, Princess.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds strained. “If I don’t listen to your orders on one call, I have failed as your Knight. It is beneath you to ask twice.”
You stare straight ahead. Your tears still flow freely, trailing down from your jaw until they wet your neck too. No one has touched you, not even through metal armor, in over a year. You remember Mingyu hugging you before you boarded the carriage on your way to your new home. Besides Eunhee’s hands dressing you and combing your hair every day, the only touch you remember is the delicate kiss Seungcheol laid on your knuckles the day he was declared your Champion.
Your heart squeezes. You are starved.
“Hold my hand.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. This time, Seungcheol does not hesitate. Warm, stiff leather meets bare skin. His large hand slides over yours, squeezing tightly. You sigh, your eyes closing. A few more stray tears escape.
You lay your head on the stiff plate over his shoulder as the carriage moves steadily on.
…………………………………..
The journey is brutal, mostly because you spend every day filled with the dread of getting to your destination. Your first few nights within your own lands, noble families along your route host you, grand affairs as they welcome you to their homes, that you attend in a state of emotional numbness. You request that Eunhee stay with you overnight, and she sleeps in a cot in the same room as you. You toss and turn, void of any sleep or comfort, despite the lengths your guests go to for that very goal.
Your only relief is in your carriage, with your Knight.
Seungcheol holds your hand as long as you desire it. He runs his thumb over the back of it, comforting circles of sure, firm leather that ground your rampaging thoughts. You sigh, your cheek pressed to the stiff armor on his body. For a few, blissful moments, your racing thoughts quieten.
“Must you wear this at all times?” You mumble, gesturing to the metal. He chuckles.
“I must, my Princess.” He muses. “However else will I be ready to protect you should the need arise?”
You hum and sigh, feeling surety in his touch. He has started saying that, my Princess. Like you are his. You are sure he means nothing by it except a show of his unwavering devotion, and a comfort to you in trying times like these. But it lights a fire in your chest, anyway. You move closer, your thigh pressing to his, and your face heats at the proximity. Layers of clothes and metal plates interfere between you two, but Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens. His breath hitches. Your mind runs to places it shouldn’t.
Seven days of travel later, you finally arrive at your childhood home.
Mingyu stands at the gate with a grand reception. Prior to your arrival, the convoy was rearranged, and you were placed in the same carriage as the Prince, while his concubines were relocated. Just the thought of sitting in there made you sick, but you sucked it up for the sake of the occasion. You are quick to exit when you arrive, unable to stay in the same space as Seojoon any longer.
Mingyu has aged only one year since you last saw him, but he looks much older. You wonder if it’s the strain of your parents’ sudden deaths (severe lung infections, he tells you), mixed with the fact that he has to quickly scramble to prepare for the Throne. You know for a fact that he wasn’t prepared for this. Well, every heir is prepared to an extent, but Mingyu saw this to be somewhere in the distant future, and not so soon. He is dressed in royal blue and gold, your family colors, and seeing him sends a shock of bittersweet pain through your chest.
Despite everything, you missed him.
The feast arranged for your arrival is grand as anything, and you spend all your time catching up with Mingyu. He speaks to you so warmly that it is almost a shock. You had forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like you mean something. Immediately afterward, he offers for you both to retire to his private study for more time together, while your husband and your servants are shown to their rooms. Seungcheol asks thrice if you are okay to be alone, and you reassure him that you are.
“I wouldn’t mind if you joined us, Sir Choi.” Mingyu smiles. “And you too, Chief Advisor Yoon.”
You stare at Mingyu, shocked, when he deliberately leaves out Seojoon, who is sitting at the same dinner table. You can feel your husband stiffen next to you, and his face twists in an ugly sneer. But he doesn’t say anything. Jeonghan and Seungcheol both politely decline the invitation, as it would be disrespectful to accept when the Heir Apparent has not even been asked. You feel a sick satisfaction at the way Mingyu has dealt with the situation, returning to your meal and taking a bite to hide your smile.
You ask him about it when you’re walking to his study. It’s just the two of you, along with Seungcheol, who is five paces behind you, escorting you to where you need to be.
“Seojoon won’t be happy. That was blatant disrespect.”
Mingyu scoffs. “Good. Your marital family hasn’t exactly upheld their end of our alliance. My borders are distressed and I’m hurtling headfirst into a war. If disrespecting my brother in law is going to wake the King up a little, then so be it.”
You huff out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know I’m the reason why they won’t cooperate with you. I am yet to give them an heir.”
Mingyu’s voice hardens. “Producing an heir was never part of the deal. It was you in exchange for political stability.”
Your throat tightens. Mingyu falters.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is more sombre now, when his words register to him. You shake your head. You are entirely used to people talking about you like an object.
“It’s fine. You’re not wrong.”
“I still feel guilty.”
“I’m aware.”
You enter Mingyu’s library through large mahogany doors. Seungcheol gives you a cautious look. You nod at him, hopefully reassuredly. The door finally closes between you.
The fireplace is roaring, lively flames that set the room aglow with a soft, golden light. You settle in one of two armchairs facing it, and Mingyu takes the other one. A chambermaid stands a few feet away, and Mingyu gestures for her to serve tea.
“I was also angry.” Mingyu speaks up. You look at him to continue. His face is colder now, like he has been deeply insulted.
“He brought not one, not two, but three concubines to his wife’s birth home, to attend her brother’s coronation. He has crossed a line.”
You bite the inside of your lip, watching the maid place a delicate cup of tea on the table next to you. You don’t reply to Mingyu, because you don’t know what to say.
“There’s rumors, you know?” He mumbles. “Traveling merchants love to spread gossip, and my advisor has a good idea about how public perception is currently looking. Your people are particularly distasteful of him. I’m unsure of how he will be able to peacefully take the Throne without massive unrest.”
You sigh and nod. You know of the rumors. You also know that they are entirely his doing, so you feel no sympathy for him.
“Speaking of unrest,” you begin, “I’m more concerned about how things are looking for you.”
When Mingyu sighs this time, it’s pained and heavy. He looks like he bears a huge, invisible burden. You watch him run a hand over his face.
“We’re being provoked to it.” He says. “There have been attacks on our entire eastern border. There’s only so much we can hold off before we retaliate. Father had been pushing for negotiations before illness took him. That’s why we are rushing a Coronation. I need to be in power so I can do something more diplomatic and not let this escalate.”
You stare into the fire, thinking. “But if it does, we will go to war with you.”
Mingyu nods. “You will have to. It’s in writing.”
“Right.” Your mind is racing with just one thought, and despite everything, it seems your brother knows exactly what thought it is.
“That includes your Knight.” He states.
Your head whips up to look at him. He does not look disapproving, or judgemental. Instead, he has a tiny smile playing on his face.
“I’m not daft, you know? The way he looks at you goes far beyond the realm of duty to the Crown.”
You feel your cheeks burn hot, and you look away from Mingyu’s shrewd stare, scowling. He laughs.
“You misunderstand him.” You respond. “He’s very devoted.”
Mingyu hums in a way that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Sure.”
Your heart pounds. You focus on sipping your tea, scalding your tongue with the first sip, but you do not care. Mingyu breaks the awkward air.
“He has a reputation too, you know? Your Knight.”
You look at Mingyu curiously. “What do you mean?”
He shifts a little, crossing one leg over the other. “He leads a garrison known for fearsome battle expertise. He is an excellent fighter. He was the youngest member of the Royal Guard to receive a Knightship. And he comes from a very prominent village of business and trade. Any merchant from your country sings his praises. Your public loves him.”
You feel something like pride swirl inside you. You smile at your cup.
“He deserves it.”
Mingyu hums.
“If he fights in this war with his garrison, there is no way we will lose.”
Your grip on your cup tightens. A slow sense of dread takes root in your chest as you think about the possibility of Seungcheol not being by your side, but laying his life on the line at your borders. You try vehemently to push it away. “There is no war. And there will be none.”
Mingyu says nothing. He only stares. You go back to your tea.
……………………………
Despite such short notice for arrangements, Mingyu’s coronation is grand as anything. You think this has to do, in part, with the mere presence your brother has. Tall, regal, confident. Like he was born to be on the Throne, like his whole life was a mere filler leading up to this moment. You are truly happy to see him bear the heavy Crown. You have complete confidence in his ability to lead his people.
The feast is grand, the banquet afterwards is even grander. Seojoon seemed to take the slight from your first evening here personally, because in the days that follow, all through the Coronation and the subsequent celebrations, he behaves like a poorly raised child. Halfway through the banquet, he disappears from your side after drinking half the supply of alcohol instead of tastefully sipping it like everyone else. You can hear the whispers of your guests, and you can see Mingyu’s smirk. Jeonghan looks particularly tired, and you’re sure the task of babysitting your husband feels impossible for him. You’re half-convinced he has fully given up. Word will reach the castle before you even say farewell to your brother. The King will be furious about his son’s antics and the impression he is leaving behind, as you know his monarchy means everything to him. The resulting damage control will go heavily in Mingyu’s favor so he can make more demands by using the insult Seojoon is giving to him as leverage.
Your brother can be ingenious sometimes.
Towards the end of the celebrations, you finally take leave from the gathering. Mingyu, still not entirely used to the new difference in rank between you two, gives you a hug before you retire for the night. You’re pleasantly surprised, and a little tipsy as well, so you giggle and return it. Truthfully, you missed this. You’ve been so starved of genuine affection that you don’t care if you’re breaking royal etiquette for a moment. You’re smiling widely as you leave, humming under your breath. Your Knight, who was your escort the entire night, seems to notice.
“You enjoyed yourself, Your Highness.” Seungcheol muses, one pace behind you as always. “I’m glad.”
You hum and giggle. “I did. I missed Mingyu. He was the only person in my birth home who showed me unfiltered kindness.”
He nods. “I can see that. His Majesty is truly kind. And he cares, despite everything. He will be a wonderful king.”
You turn to look at him. “He praised you too. Said your reputation precedes you. I was so shocked, Sir Choi. I didn’t know how famous you are.”
Seungcheol sighs and cringes visibly, and it only makes you laugh more. When you reach your guest chambers, he pushes the door open and guides you inside.
“I’m sure he exaggerates.”
You scoff in a manner truly undignified for a Princess, kicking your shoes off. Seungcheol watches you flounder around as the door shuts behind him.
“You’re drunk.”
“I am not!” You give him an appalled look. He raises an eyebrow, but his lips fight to not tick up.
“I will send for Eunhee.”
You groan and step forward. “No.”
The word drags out of you, long and petulant. Your hands find Seungcheol’s chest, and you fiddle with the array of gold medals pinned to his ceremonial uniform. The deep maroon looks wonderful against his skin, and he’s studded with all his achievements, looking grander than you, you would argue, if you weren’t so heavily draped in shiny silk and golden jewelry. Up close, you can smell him, a scent of metal and warm wood.
Seungcheol’s hands shoot up instinctively to yours, delicately circling around your wrists. You can feel his heartbeat on your palm even through his jacket. You watch carefully, his touch shooting like sparks up your arm. He is not wearing gloves. This is the first time you’ve felt his skin against yours.
“Princess.” His voice is cautious. His posture has stiffened because of your proximity. You have never been this close to him before, except when he sat with you in your carriage.
“Mingyu said something else too.” You mumble, ignoring his warning. “He said…. that you’re in love with me.”
Not in so many words, but you want to see Seungcheol’s reaction. And you get it instantly. His entire torso turns rigid, and subconsciously, his grip on your wrists tightens. His eyes have widened, darting left to right between your own.
“Do you love me, Seungcheol?” You whisper.
All is silent for a few moments. Seungcheol heaves in a breath like it’s a struggle for him. “I pledged you my sword and my life.”
You minutely shake your head. When you step forward, rising slightly on your tip toes, your sigh mingles with his. The air freezes still, like it’s holding its breath, like it’s waiting for the melee to break.
“Answer me.” You breathe.
Seungcheol’s eyes screw shut. This close, you can count his individual eyelashes. You can see the small smattering of freckles over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You can see the way his skin is gradually pinkening the longer you stay so close to him.
“Please don’t ask this of me, Your Highness.” His voice is strained. “I have never lied to you. I do not wish to start today.”
Your eyes cloud. Your vision swims. Mingyu was right. He was right.
You step back, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, and the tension releases like the whistle on a steam engine. Seungcheol’s grip on your wrists loosens, then disappears. You see his chest rise in a deep breath, just before he opens his eyes. But he won’t look at you. The second there is distance between you, he falls to one knee.
“Please forgive me.” His voice shakes as he bows deeply. “I don’t deserve your grace, not after breaching your trust in the way that I have. I am a weak human in mind, my Princess. I have wavered. I let myself think of you impurely, unjustly. I will repent for the rest of my days if I have to.”
Your face crumples. Your heart twinges painfully in your chest at the waver in his voice, the genuine fear in it, and somehow, this pain is worse than any you have felt in the last year. The thought that loving you is something that made Seungcheol feel guilty is like knives to your chest. You don’t think. Instead, you drop to your knees too.
Seungcheol reacts immediately, hands gripping your arms and hauling you up before your knees can even feel the heat of the stone floor. He is shocked at the action, nearly balking at you as he holds you up. You grip the lapel of his jacket, trying to get your feet under you. He uses the hold on your arms to tug your closer. You freeze, looking up into his eyes.
“The day you kneel on the floor is the day I shatter my own kneecaps.” He rasps. His words make your stomach twinge. Your face flushes. Your eyes dart to his lips.
“Kiss me.”
Seungcheol blinks. You don’t know who you have shocked more, him or yourself. But once the words leave your mouth, you realise you want nothing more than this exact thing. It burns through your veins like a desire so aching it leaves your soul empty. You push forward again, despite how strong your Knight’s grip is on your arms, until you feel his nose brush the tip of yours.
“You said I would never have to ask twice.” Your voice trembles. It’s so quiet, you are half unsure if he has heard you. “You said it was beneath me.”
Seungcheol’s eyes squeeze shut again. He pulls in a long, laboured breath. When he opens them again, you feel a tug on your body, and soft lips meet yours with an insistent press.
You have heard of first kisses. You have heard of them in stories told by court entertainers and travellers, by old noblewomen who tell fairytales and sing folk songs. You imagined your own, once upon a time, with a man that is now your husband, who you have never let touch you. But your Knight, your Champion, is present before you, tall like standing oak, but with lips softer than your most delicate velvet, moving over your own with a surety you have long associated with him. You melt into him like he’s meant for you, and he is. He has sworn an oath to be your support, and he keeps it, his hands leaving your arms so one can wind carefully around your waist. Your body meets his in a soft push, and it’s like the tension leaves you like a relieved sigh. You feel fingers card through your hair, a familiar feeling because Eunhee does your hair every morning, but these fingers are thicker, stronger, and they cup the back of your head, tilt it, so his lips slot deeper into yours.
Your trembling hands rest on his shoulders. His body is solid, alive, as it moves with yours. Your breasts push against his chest, his arm that winds around you making sure not an inch of space separates you from him. Your feet almost leave the floor, the balls of your feet barely brushing the stone anymore, his strength holding you up. He feels divine against you. Your inhibitions are lowered, and you mewl into him.
“Princess.” He breathes into your mouth, voice tinged with desperation, but he never finishes the thought. He kisses you harder, grips you tighter, like letting you go will mean you will drift away. His body curves into you, your own arches into his. He invades your every sense. His tongue runs over your bottom lip. Something tightens severely in your lower stomach.
A thudding sound behind you shatters your high. Seungcheol hears it too. He pulls back so harshly it feels like he is being ripped away, and you immediately stumble back a few paces, turning away from him. There is another thud, and then the door swings open.
“Eunhee.” You hear him say. His voice is stable, like he wasn’t breathing into your mouth mere seconds ago. Your stomach jolts. “You’re here. Good. I was just about to send for you.”
“My apologies, Sir Choi.” Your maid enters smoothly. You don’t hear any suspicion in her voice. You don’t turn. You feel like your ribs will crack under the forceful pounding of your heart.
“Her Highness has had some wine.” You feel like Seungcheol’s voice is far away, like you’re hearing him through a roaring waterfall. “Please take care of her.”
You don’t hear Eunhee’s reply, but the door shuts shortly after. You feel Eunhee’s gentle hands guide you with a grip on your arms to the large chair next to the fireplace. You want to flinch away, still drowning under the sensation of the strong grip that kept you on your feet mere moments ago. You’re sure your handmaid thinks you are a little foggy because of the alcohol, as you don’t usually drink and can’t hold a lot. But your senses have never been more sharp, your mind never more clear.
Once you’ve changed and laid down, with Eunhee in her cot already dead asleep, you stare at the dark ceiling, wondering what you have just done. And what you are about to do.
Because you know, with complete certainty, that you will do it again.
……………………………
You stay at your birth home for three more days before being scheduled to leave. Despite a myriad of new responsibilities for your brother, he spends ample time with you, and any time he isn’t with you, you spend catching up with the noblewomen of the castle, as well as your old handmaids. You do miss your old home, since you haven’t come back in a noticeable while. Given everything, you don’t come face to face with Seungcheol in complete privacy until you’re bidding Mingyu farewell and settling into your carriage. Petulantly enough, Seojoon chose not to sit with you, not that you mind.
You say your last goodbye through the window, smiling and waving delicately. Mingyu smiles broadly in farewell. Eunhee cushions your back to make you comfortable and retreats. Your heart skips when Seungcheol slides into the seat opposite to you. The horses’ hooves click and the convoy finally starts moving. Seconds after it picks up speed, Seungcheol shuts the curtain. Your eyes meet his in the enclosed space. The first time you have been completely alone with him since that night.
Heat sizzles. It cracks.
His body shifts to the seat next to you, his hand finds its place on the back of your head just like it did the first time. When he kisses you, you feel like new life is breathed into your soul. You return it immediately, scrambling to find purchase over his armor. The first touch of his lips feels like a cold drink on a hot summer day.
“Princess,” he breathes when you sigh into him, “forgive me. Forgive me. I am weak.”
You can barely shake your head against the grip he has on you. You kiss him harder, scowling when his heavy armor restricts your access to him.
“Stop apologising. I want this as much as you do.”
His groan cracks halfway. His lips never leave yours.
“Your Highness, I loathe disagreeing with you, but here I must.” He whispers, pulling away just slightly. You heave in a deep breath. His forehead meets yours and his eyes are wide, the warmest, fiercest brown, peering into yours, dripping with emotion that stabs your frantic heart.
“You have invaded my every thought for days. I remembered our kiss every night, and I prayed for the moment I could do it again.”
You’re the one pulling him in this time, kissing him like you’re hungry for it, like you’re starving. Seungcheol’s tongue, hot and insistent, finally crosses the threshold of your mouth. You keen into him. His free hand runs up and down your side, sending tingles over your clothed skin.
It’s a bump and jolt of the carriage under you that breaks the kiss. Your breaths are heavy, lips swollen and tingling. He is a vision, cheeks flushed, lips dark pink and wet with your spit. You flush at the sight. He brushes your hair behind your ear.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs. “You are the loveliest thing that has ever graced the soil of my country.”
You feel your face burn hot at the ardency in his words. You cannot even refuse, not even out of modesty. The earnest tone of his voice leaves no room for doubt. He means this with every fibre in him, you can tell.
“Stay with me forever, Seungcheol.”
His eyes almost melt. He closes them, leaning his forehead delicately against yours.
“I will never consider anything otherwise, Your Highness.”
Your heart feels at ease.
……………………………
The castle is in disarray when you return.
You cannot tell immediately, but there is a certain charge in the air. Jeonghan’s face is pulled taut, and you are not used to seeing him so worried. He is usually relaxed and in control, but it seems the King is particularly furious this time. The many months of distrustful behavior from his son have piled up. The Court’s Councillors don’t trust him anymore, especially not as Heir Apparent, and it seems they have planned a certain reckoning for him after his stint at your brother’s coronation.
You are sure it won’t end well, but you are not bothered. Your head is still in the clouds after the week of blissful traveling you just returned from. You still feel Seungcheol’s lips crowding yours, leaving them tingling. His hands had touched you, your waist, your side, your neck, never straying too much, but his very grip was charged and heavy. His tongue had explored every part of your mouth until you keened into him, and he pulled away to take deep breaths.
“You’re tempting me, Princess.” He would rasp. “You are leading me astray.”
And you loved it. You love that he wants you so much that he is willing to break loyalty to the Throne, that he needs you, all of you, your body, enough to defile your purity. You know his oath is different. He swore loyalty to you and you only, and not to anyone else. He got down on both knees for it. You tell him that, whisper to him to show you his devotion, to stand true to his oath and serve you the way he promised he would. His resulting answer would be a strained groan, and his kisses would be even heavier, even hotter.
You are least interested in whatever hell the Prince has landed himself in, but unfortunately, it has left the castle in terrible unrest. You hear of the gossip from your ladies-in-waiting, and despite their catty nature, you know their news is almost always reliable.
“The Prince is furious.”
“He thinks he is being publicly shamed.”
“He is. His Majesty has made jabs in Court. But hearing it from Noblemen and political advisors is particularly humiliating.”
“What do you think, Your Highness? Has he talked about it with you?”
You roll your eyes and focus on biting down on a grape, letting the sour juice flood your mouth. “Your Prince is too busy bedding any woman he lays eyes on to pay any attention to me.”
Not that you would want him to, but phrasing it like this puts the blame on him rather than you, and you have grown sharp enough to realise that. You also know that any word you say to these women will go straight back to the Queen, so your sentences have to be careful.
That night after dinner, Seungcheol escorts you to your chambers as always. You have yet to touch him since you returned, and you muse about it as you walk back, but his face is pinched, lost in thought.
“What is bothering you?” You ask.
He seems to snap out of it, blinking. He shakes his head. “Nothing of your concern, Your Highness.”
You purse your lips. “I still want to know.”
He hums. “We have been refreshing and developing war plans. To be prepared for what is coming.”
You stop short, staring. Seungcheol freezes beside you as well.
“We are going to war?” Your voice is tinged with panic. Seungcheol immediately shakes his head.
“Not right now, no. But we need to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Don’t worry, Princess. Your brother is adept. He can handle this.”
You nod slowly, taking a deep breath. Seungcheol urges you to keep walking. When you reach your chamber doors, he pushes them open but stays outside.
“I must leave.” He looks regretful. “I left the meeting so I could escort you back. Jeonghan is awaiting my arrival.”
You fight to not smile, but you fail. You feel your face warm.
“You left the meeting just for this?”
His face softens and he returns the smile. “Of course.”
The hallway is empty. Your night guards are not here yet. Eunhee is next to the fireplace, but the door blocks her from seeing you. Your eyes run over your surroundings again, and when you think everything is clear, you step forward, laying your lips gently against his.
His breath hitches, and he barely has time to respond before you step back, fighting off the giddy smile on your face.
Seungcheol looks shocked, but he huffs out a laugh anyway, shaking his head.
“Good night, my Princess.”
“Good night, Sir Choi.”
He just laughs again, tonguing his cheek as you disappear behind the doors.
…………………………….
Your mornings have a quiet routine that you have perfected by now. You wake naturally early, an old habit inculcated in you. You wash, and are dressed and seated by the time Seungcheol appears with the morning’s work and any messages. You are not fond of large breakfasts, so Eunhee prepares fresh helpings of the fruit you like, as well as a warm cup of tea. Anything after leaving your chambers is for later, but the first couple of hours of the day are for you only. You enjoy that time immensely, and it grounds you to your reality. You are sure that without this routine, you would’ve lost your senses a long time ago.
Today is different, however.
You are roused from sleep to the sound of shouting. It takes a moment to register, but despite being sleep addled, your eyes pop open. There’s more thudding and shouting, and harsh voices float into your ears, muffled by distance and your heavy oak doors.
“Has anyone gone in or out?”
“No, Sir!”
“What about her maid?”
“She hasn’t arrived yet, Sir. Her usual time is one hour from now.”
You sit up at the sound of heavy footsteps. The door is pushed open and your mouth drops as Seungcheol steps inside. His steely eyes meet your weary, alarmed ones. He closes the door behind him and moves quickly, beelining to the door leading to your bath, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. You are shocked speechless, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from your eyes. He re-emerges, walking in the opposite direction to look behind the heavy velvet drapes on your windows. He checks the lock on the balcony doors before pulling them open and stepping outside. You catch a glimpse of the sky. There is still no sun. The sky is only mildly lighter, and you realise it is the early hours of the morning.
He steps back inside, still hard-faced and on guard. He walks to your bed, sinking down to one knee so he can look under it.
“Seungcheol.” You finally speak, voice slightly hoarse from sleep. “What is happening?”
When your Knight resurfaces, this time closer to you, you realise that he looks way more worried than he ever has previously. He looks at the door, which is still closed, and finally lets himself relax, though only mildly. He sits next to you on the edge of the bed. You have the brief thought that you are in nothing more than a single layer of cloth, a linen chemise you always wear for sleep. Seungcheol has never seen you like this. He has never sat on your bed. But one look at the pinched expression on his face tells you that is the least of his concerns right now.
“Has anyone visited you overnight?” He asks, his tone urgent. You shake your head.
“Did you eat anything after dinner yesterday?”
You think. “I had tea before going to sleep.”
“Who prepared it?”
“Eunhee. She always prepares it.”
“Anything else?”
“No. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard any strange noises? Anything about the guards moving at night?”
“No.” Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Tell me, Seungcheol.”
Finally, he sighs, one hand reaching up to run tiredly down his face.
“His Majesty the King has passed away.”
You gasp, hands coming up to clamp your mouth in horror. A million questions immediately rush to your brain, but it seems that Seungcheol is ahead of you.
“Court physicians have confirmed it was apoplexy, a seizure in the humors of the brain.” He explains. “The Queen is beside herself. She’s the one who found him, sitting straight up in bed.”
You are frozen still. You cannot even process.
“Most of the castle still doesn’t know, only some chief councillors, court physicians and nurses. The news will probably break at dawn. Everyone is devastated, but the Prince…”
This is when he falters, jaw clenching and eyes glazing over. “He’s not…. acting right.”
“He just lost his father, Seungcheol.” You finally say, your voice shaking. You loathe the man, but you can understand that hurt. You know the King was wildly beloved.
“It’s not that, Your Highness. He’s strangely erratic. He wants to take over quickly. He’s already talking about a Coronation.”
Your eyebrows furrow. Coronation? At a time like this?
“Maybe because of the uncertainty? We are looming ever closer to a war…”
He lets out a sigh and nods slowly. “That’s what everyone believes. Something just isn’t right.”
A small silence descends. You think about what has happened, and it hits you that, once your husband officially takes the Throne, you will become Queen Consort. Your duties will change, your routine will shift. Everything is about to be different.
Seungcheol seems to snap out of his deep thoughts, finally looking at you. “I wanted to rush to your side immediately, to check if you were okay. His Majesty’s demise is suspect at best. Jeonghan is convinced the Heir Apparent had something to do with it. If he can, theoretically, have his father killed, then…”
He shakes his head, as if he can’t finish the thought.
“What makes you think he had him killed?” Your eyebrows furrow. You still don’t believe it.
Seungcheol shrugs. “These past few days, the King has been harsh on him. His court officials have been egging him on. Plus, with the impending war, him taking the Throne as King means he will take command of troops and form strategies in the field. Had he gone into war as a Prince, he would be expected to fight on the frontlines.”
Seungcheol’s face hardens, like he is disgusted, but he bites his tongue. You know, had it been anyone other than the Prince, Seungcheol would have called him a coward. But respect binds him from doing so.
“It’s just a hunch, an intuition I’ve honed over many years.” He continues. “Jeonghan agrees with me. However, the political unrest right now is too severe. Everyone will scramble to establish stable leadership. And as the physician has declared it natural causes, I doubt there will be any more questioning into this, despite Her Majesty the Queen’s hysteria about it. It is open and shut.”
You nod slowly. You trust Seungcheol’s instinct completely. He has never been wrong, and he has never let you down. If he has this suspicion, then to you, it is with sound reasoning. You’re still reeling at the news, but there is a strange calm in your chest. You know that is because Seungcheol is in your presence. If you had heard the news from anyone else, you would be incredibly distressed right now, but he makes you feel safe.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Seungcheol’s face softens and his eyes focus on you. For the first time since he came, he smiles.
“You were my first thought when I heard. I had to confirm that you were okay.”
Your heart lifts. You shift to get closer to him. His eyes shoot down, and his jaw slacks. You watch with amusement as he realises for the first time that you are in your private clothes.
“My apologies for barging in here.” He says. You watch him make the effort to not look down, instead staring over your shoulder and blinking rapidly. You suppress a giggle.
“You did it for my safety.” You respond. Slowly, you lift your hand so you can place it over the sleeve of his jacket, running up the bend of his elbow to his bicep. You see his chest rise in a deep breath.
“Won’t you stay a little longer?”
Seungcheol risks looking in your eyes. His resolve fails him, and his gaze travels down again. The collar of your chemise dips. This close, he can see the skin past it, and his ears redden. You’ve always been buried under layers and layers of cloth and corset. This is all new to him. His hand twitches. Under his attention, you feel a slight shyness creep up on you.
“I must go.” He mumbles, but his eyes travel hungrily down your torso. You feel a shiver run through your body at how they darken. His attention sends a thrill down your spine, like your nerves are igniting. You love the feeling of it.
“It’s still a while until dawn breaks.” You push forward until your nose nudges his cheek. His lips part and he sighs. You feel it on your bare neck, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns his head, and his lips brush yours.
“I can’t, Princess. Forgive me.” His voice is strained, and it feels like the sentence pains him. His mouth slides over yours, until it feels like you are swallowing his words. “The guards have already sent for Eunhee. She will be here in minutes.”
It seems like saying it out loud breaks the tension a little, and slowly Seungcheol pulls away. You sigh and lean back, hyperaware of how heated your body feels.
“I miss you, Seungcheol.” You pout. “It has been days.”
Your Knight’s lips quirk up in a small, apologetic smile. “I’m regretful, Your Highness. But I promise you, once the dust settles, I am all yours to do with as you please.”
There is a heated promise in his words. You flush deeply and nod. You don’t know what to say. Every muscle in your body feels like it is wound up in anticipation. Seungchoel has kissed you breathless, but his lips have never drifted to any part of yours beyond your mouth. You know what his words imply, and the thrill of it nearly leaves you dizzy. You have always known how attractive Seungcheol is, both in body and soul. He’s your closest companion, and you have never wanted anyone the way you have wanted him, even if you are uncertain of what exactly it is that you want. You never consummated your marriage. You are as pure as the first rain of summer. And you want only him to touch every part of you.
Seungcheol reaches for you, his hand winding around the side of your neck to cup it. He has this habit. He did it extensively in the carriage, and you love it. It comes with a strange sense of possession that grounds you and makes your nerves feel alive. He speaks again.
“Do not leave your room until I come get you. Eunhee will remain here. Likely, your ladies-in-waiting will arrive early in the morning and stay with you for a while.”
You nod. He continues, but this time it is gentle. Reassuring.
“Things will change very quickly. But you need not worry. I am here, always. No harm shall come to you, okay?”
You nod again, heart melting at his words, tilting your face into his hand. You lay a small kiss on his palm. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
Finally, he takes his hand away even though you don’t wish for him to. You watch him stand and look around once more, sighing and walking to the door. He gives you one final look and smile before he carefully leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. You can hear his voice vaguely through the doors, instructing the guards. You lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.
Things are about to take a drastic turn. But you feel more assured than you have in years.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 11.6k
warnings (for this chapter): arranged marriage, lying and betrayal, angst, feelings of inadequacy, low self worth, mentions of concubines, fight scenes, no serious bodily harm tho, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, hurt/little comfort.
series masterlist
When you first see your wedding gown, it takes your breath away.
It’s a deep blue, satin material with sprawling golden embellishments accenting every edge. All the details are hand-embroidered; you are aware that the seamstresses have been working on this dress for many months, and their hard work shows. Your feet tremble slightly as you step into the dress, the material petal-soft on your skin. You had spent all of last week being pampered to the extreme by your maids, so your skin is supple and perfumed, primed for perfection. Your head seamstress and two of your maids lace up the corseted bodice until it fits snugly against you. You lower your arms, trailing, fitted sleeves of the same beautiful satin material, and watch yourself in the mirror. Your heart beats faster than usual. It has been slowly picking up speed leading up to the wedding, and now it is nearly bursting from your chest.
Hope curdles in the depths of your heart. Hope for a new start, a happy life, a peaceful existence.
Your maids flit around, adjusting your hair and the tiny gold ornaments on your neck, your ears, your wrists. Of all your days as a princess, it is ironic that it is your last day in this castle that you look truly the most beautiful you ever have. You don’t care as much for your appearances as most royals would, but even you are moved by your reflection in the mirror today.
There is a knock on the door before it hesitantly opens. A broad shoulder and a head pokes inside, and you turn slightly to meet shocked eyes.
“Mingyu.” You smile, eyeing how smart your brother looks in his full uniform, the ceremonial outfit fitted to his large frame perfectly. He steps inside and quickly closes the door behind him, a smile breaking on his face as he watches you. Your maids add final touches, smoothing wrinkles in the many layers of the skirt.
“You look so beautiful.” He compliments. You return his grin.
Your older brother, next in line for your family’s throne, might be the only person within these four walls that you will miss when you leave. Because he is the only person in this castle who hasn’t made you feel entirely insignificant. Your own mother, the Queen, not coming to see you on the morning of your wedding day is indication enough of how little value you have in the eyes of everyone you live with.
But no matter. You will leave tonight for a new home, a royal family that actually wants you in their midst, who asked for your hand with reverence and anticipation. This hollow feeling in your chest has numbered hours left to live, and already, the tendrils of hope are wrapped around your heart, ready to strangle it and banish it completely from you.
Mingyu stays with you for a bit as your maids finish up. Then, he raises a hand and dismisses them, telling them to be back shortly. They flit out without a word, bowing respectfully to the heir as they leave. The door shuts behind them with a soft click.
“How are you feeling?” Mingyu asks. You nod.
“Very good. I’m excited.”
When Mingyu smiles this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Remember, you will leave tonight for a new home, but you will always have me when you need me. Write to me, okay?”
You turn as much as your heavy dress and long train will allow. Mingyu might be the only person who is even slightly bothered by your leaving. For everyone else, you were a temporary fixture since the moment you came into this world, the second-born after the birth of a son, that too a daughter. You had no value from the minute you left your mother’s womb. Not until today.
Mingyu is very careful as he steps close to you, as close as the dress will allow. He lets his hand brush very gently over your hair.
“You will make a wonderful Queen.”
Your eyes water. You blink the tears away before they can spill.
The wedding ceremony is lavish, grand. Despite Mingyu being older, yours is the first wedding between the two of you. The people of your land have something to celebrate, an opportunity not too heavily available to them. You’ve heard that your neighbouring nation, the one you are marrying into, is a lot more prosperous. The thought excites you. Eventually, with time, you will be Queen, and you are very interested in knowing of all the dealings of the land you will govern.
Your veil is tulle, long and embroidered so you can hardly see through it. You keep your gaze low, heart beating fast throughout the entire ceremony. You cannot see the man you’re marrying, but you can feel him next to you, your now husband, Seojoon, heir to his own land’s throne, only child of the sitting King. You’ve met him once before, immediately after your engagement a couple of years ago. He had a quieter disposition, but he carried himself with authority even then. His voice was booming and sharp, hair closely cropped and jet black. He was handsome, in a conventional sense.
You had spoken only briefly over tea, and it had been a bout of stilted conversation. You had been too jumpy and nervous, so you decided to not speak too much for fear of saying something unbecoming. You wanted to write him letters in the time after that leading up to the wedding, but your mother thought it ‘improper’ and shut it down. It’s fine. You have a whole lifetime to get to know him.
You go through the wedding with a pounding heart, every movement precise from many, many rounds of rehearsals. When your veil is finally removed after the ceremony and right before the feast, you feel like it uncovers you with a promise. A new life, a new chapter. Your hope, curling in your heart like thin tendrils, is solidifying as the time passes. You enjoy your last meal in the castle, because you know your carriages are waiting outside, ready to take you away from this horrible place.
You are seen off among lots of flourish. Your personal maid, who has been with you for many years, is openly weeping, though she is trying her hardest to not sob audibly. She kisses your hand before you mount your carriage. Even Mingyu, the strongest person you know, has damp eyes. It surprises you, but then you remember that you will likely not see Mingyu for a long time. You feel gloom tickle your heart when he gives you a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Write to me. Please.” He says again. The same thing he said before the wedding. This time, there is a slight urgency in his voice. You pull back just enough to look at him, taken aback by his tone. But he gives you a bright smile, ushering you forward before you have any room to question it.
“Go. Don’t keep them waiting.”
You don’t have time to dwell on it. The carriage in front of yours houses the King and Queen of your new nation, your husband’s parents. They are waiting for your goodbyes to end, and so you nod, taking Mingyu’s arm so he can assist you up and into the carriage where Seojoon already sits among others.
As the horses move and the wheels turn to carry you away, you give one last look to the procession that bids you farewell. Neither your mother nor your father are part of it. They didn’t even bother to come to the castle gates. For the first time in a long time, their dismissal of you doesn’t sting. This is the last time. You will never have to feel so discarded, so rejected, ever again.
You turn away from the window when the scenery starts blurring more as the horses pick up speed. You look around the cabin where you sit. Seojoon is next to you, peering out of the opposite window. In front of you sits a small woman with a frail frame, slightly older and with a thinly lined face, dressed in a plain frock and flat, brown shoes. You know her. It’s Eunhee, your new maid, who will be with you every hour of your waking moments going forward. You’d been introduced to her briefly before, and you know she was handpicked by the Queen, your mother in law, so you trust Eunhee completely.
Sitting next to her, opposite to Seojoon, is a man in uniform. He’s not in armor, but his uniform jacket is sturdy, and adorned with medals and pins showing his achievements. His hair is dark like the wet earth, parted down the middle, pale skin, strong jaw, straight nose, steel eyes. His posture is stoic and rigid, maybe even more so than royals. There’s a sheathed sword leaning against the cushion he is sitting on, right by his thigh. You look at the badges on his shoulders. A Knight.
He must feel your eyes on him, because his own turn to meet yours for a brief second. You blink and turn away, embarrassed about being caught. When you chance a glance at him again, he’s looking resolutely forward again.
No one in the carriage speaks, so you opt to stay silent as well. It has been a long, arduous day. You’re sure they are all tired. You rest your head on the cushion behind your head and close your eyes. You have many days of travel ahead, so you should try to rest whenever you can.
……………………………….
The weather is favorable, so you arrive at your new home earlier than anticipated.
You are bone-tired, not used to long days of travel. The dress that one had changed into after your ceremony is not as glamorous as your wedding dress, but it is in no way simple. The skirts are immense, and the corset is digging into you. Any dress you change into on the road is the same, overly adorned and complicated, as are worn by a new bride. Eunhee is there to lace you up every morning before you mount the carriage. Then comes hours of discomfort, until you are dressed down before sleeping for the night. By the time you reach the castle, you are near tears.
But there are expectations from the new Princess. And you must not disappoint.
A large procession waits for you at the castle gates, ready to welcome you. Throughout it, you keep a pleasant smile on your face as you have been trained to do your entire life. People bow to you, introduce themselves, hundreds of names and titles of noblemen and castle clergy that you will definitely forget. After entering the grand hallway of the castle, the Queen turns to you.
“Go with Eunhee and get ready.” She says, primly. “There will be a welcome feast soon.”
You are bone-tired, but you only nod mutely.
You don’t have the mental presence anymore to log any of your movements, so you let Eunhee and a procession of unknown women guide you through wide, stone corridors and up many, many steps. At the end of one long hallway are grand, oak doors, where two guards stand on attention. They are pushed open to reveal a sprawling room, a large poster bed with maroon drapings on the far wall, a roaring fireplace to your left, surrounded by cushy sofas and armchairs, and large rugs covering the floor. On the far wall is also a door leading to a balcony, and to the right is a door that you are guessing leads to a private bath and changing area.
It’s beautiful, and before you can properly admire your new chambers, Eunhee is gently escorting you towards a large mirror on the wall to your right. A dress is hanging next to it, maroon with gold accents, the official colors of this royal dynasty.
Three other women follow Eunhee’s lead as they slowly undo your dress to replace your new one. Your skin is marred with dark, angry marks from the corset. You wince as it comes off, and Eunhee softens her movements.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.” Her voice is so mild. Calming. You shake your head.
“Never you mind, Eunhee. I’m used to this.”
The girl next to Eunhee, who is gathering the skirt so it won’t wrinkle, speaks up. “Yes. This is all part of the duty.”
The maids freeze. You look at the girl curiously as she works. She doesn’t seem to notice the others shifting uncomfortably around her for speaking out of turn, and not using your title. You notice that she is young, maybe the same age as you, a few years younger than Eunhee, and her frock is….. tighter. Lower cut on the neckline. Her hair is looser instead of the neat buns everyone else is wearing. And she has a small bracelet on, a thin chain, but not something any maid should be wearing at all.
She makes you uneasy.
No one speaks, working quietly to slip you into your new dress. The lacing up feels agonising, and you try to take as many deep gulps of air as you can before you are again not able to breathe once it tightens. You talk yourself mentally through the process of the dinner ahead, and then, finally, you are stepping out of the room again.
The feast is packed with any and everyone who is important to the castle. Courtiers, councillors, noblemen, lords and knights. Then there is the King, the Queen, her ladies in waiting, your husband, the Crown Prince, and you, the new Crown Princess. You try to be as present and warm as you can, determined to make a good first impression despite how exhausted you are. This is your new life, these people will soon be very familiar and essential to your role in this castle. You must get along with all of them, to establish yourself. This is a new start. The days of being swatted away like a fly are over.
It takes hours, and the feast finally dies down. You and Seojoon are both dismissed, and you walk back to your chambers together. Eunhee and the Knight from before are a few steps behind you. Your heart beats a little faster. It’s late in the night, the first night you will spend with your husband. You know what will happen, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves creep up your limbs.
Once inside, Eunhee quickly de-robes you. You thank her quietly with a small smile, and her returning one is more of a wince than anything else. Her eyes look sad, dim. You wonder if she is as tired as you are, and that’s why she appears so upset.
“I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She says, voice frail.
You shake your head. “No need, Eunhee. You can leave for the night.”
She hesitates. “I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She repeats.
You don’t know what to say. Are customs different here for handmaidens? Must they wait outside all night? You assumed only a guard would. You opt to stay silent, letting Eunhee do what she thinks is best. She grew up in this castle after all, so she knows better.
You change into a softer silk gown, with a lace trim that makes your face flame up. Eunhee leaves and you enter your chambers again. Seojoon is standing in front of the fireplace, still fully dressed in his ceremonial outfit. You wonder if he will change, but then another thought enters your head. Maybe he just wants to disrobe directly. Your face heats.
He has a glass of wine in his hand. You fidget, unsure of if you should sit on the bed. You stand by it awkwardly and watch him. No one speaks while he drinks. He doesn’t even look at you. He finishes the glass quickly before setting it on the table. Then, he walks to the doors.
“I will see you in the morning.” He states, still not sparing you a glance. His voice is flat and a little tired.
You blink, shocked. Before you can ask him anything, before you can even think to protest, the heavy door swings open and he leaves in one quick step. You are left standing alone in the vast room, the only movement coming from the flames in the fireplace.
There’s a soft knock that you almost don’t hear if it weren’t for the silence in the room. Eunhee steps in very slowly. She has the same forlorn look on her face from before, and you realise that she knows something. Something she wanted to say when she was undressing you but didn’t. Something that made it necessary for her to stay outside and not retire for the night. She knew he wouldn’t be staying. She knew the reason.
“Why?” You ask, voice shaky already. There’s a feeling blooming in your chest, a sense of despair and dread previously unknown to you. Eunhee hesitates, like the very thought of answering your question pains her. She moves quickly to the tray sitting on the table next to the fireplace, pouring a glass of water for you and carrying it to the table by your bedside. She uses gentle hands to coax you to sit, and you sink into the soft mattress at the very edge. Then, she kneels on her knees right beside your legs, and peers up at you.
“Her Majesty the Queen told me you weren’t informed.” She says. “Of the Prince’s relations.”
Relations? You stare at Eunhee, unmoving. The silence in the room is pin-drop. You wait for her to keep speaking. You see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.
“The Prince indulges in…. mistresses.”
Your gaze doesn’t waver. Not a single muscle shifts. Eunhee seems to balk under your gaze.
“I am unaware of why this was kept from you, Your Highness. I assumed you would know, since the King has had concubines as well, his entire adult life. It is customary to Royals here. I was told just this very evening by Her Majesty to stay with you as you do not know. And to explain it to you.”
Your eyes wander from your handmaid, fixing on the far wall instead. The grey is solid, sturdy, but it swims in your vision. You feel the slightest of tugs, and you realise that Eunhee is clutching the hem of your robe.
“But you are his wife! Lawfully wedded. Your son will be the heir to his throne. Those concubines are mere distractions. You do not fret over them-”
“She was one of them.” You barely recognise your own voice. Detached, chilled. Eunhee immediately stops talking, so you continue.
“The maid from before. The young one who spoke out of turn. She was one of them.”
Eunhee hesitates before nodding. “Her name is Hana. She’s….. his favorite.”
You feel bile rise up in your throat. You kick your foot, disengaging Eunhee’s grip on your dress.
“Leave.”
She watches you with slight trepidation. Her hands clench and unclench. “Princess-”
“Get out.”
Your tone leaves no room for question. Eunhee promptly stands and rushes out, closing the door quietly behind her. You still stare at the wall, so grey, and as you watch, you feel like you are as grey and bleak as the walls that surround you.
………………………..
From a young age, the biggest lesson you learned as a princess who was to eventually be wed into another royal family was to never dwell.
At any point, there is too much to be done, duties to uphold, reputations to maintain, stature to solidify and alliances to form. Never can you dawdle or meander. Everything must keep flowing seamlessly from one obligation to another. Such is also the law of nature. At the end of every day, the sun sets. The earth turns one full rotation on its axis, signaling the beginning of another morning. And these processes continue stubbornly on the same timeline, no matter what. The stars do not care that your world is falling apart. The moon is unaware of the life draining from your eyes.
The morning after your arrival at the castle, on your first day of being their Crown Princess, you wake to Eunhee’s gentle voice. She bathes you, perfumes your body, helps you get dressed along with two other maids. The younger one from yesterday is notably absent. You want to believe it is because of Eunhee, and not because she spent the night with your husband.
That same nauseous feeling in your stomach threatens to rise all the way to your throat. You swallow it down.
Breakfast is grand, more than normal meals would usually be, you suspect. Celebrations will go on for days, if not weeks. You were prepared for them beforehand. You even felt excited, because in your mind, you would be attending them with your husband, enjoying everything by his side as you slowly got integrated in his life and in his heart.
He is by your side today just as you anticipated, but he feels a million miles away. Your sorrow, sizzling under the surface of your skin, is marinating, feeding on every interaction between you two. He barely looks at you, barely speaks to you. He says standing next to you in morning court, he seats himself right beside you during breakfast. He leads you to your seat in the colorful pavilion as you move from the castle to the jousting field right outside the castle walls. But he never spares you a glance. He never speaks a word to you. He is miles away, and you’re left alone and cold.
The King and Queen have arranged for a wedding joust in honor of you, the new bride. A fight that will decide which Knight will receive your favor. Wooden barriers encircle the enormous jousting field, lined with benches for audience viewing. The crowd is packed with courtiers, townsfolk and foreign envoys. Above them rises a tall pole with a maroon flag bearing the royal family emblem. The royal viewing platform is in the center of the right side lining the field, a raised area where you sit in large seats with the Prince, the King and the Queen. You fiddle with your dress as Eunhee smooths it. You dismiss her when she’s done, and she steps off the platform to a bench on the side. You turn your attention to the field.
It is vast, and the crowds are restless, talking cheerfully amongst themselves. On either end, to your right and left, are two horses surrounded by teams of men flitting about, getting them ready. Two Knights stand with the horses, tightening the armored plates on their bodies, preparing for the joust. You look at the man on the right, recognising him as the Knight you traveled with on the way to the castle, the pale, stiff one.
Movement catches the side of your eyes, and you turn your head. A man has walked up to the platform, giving you a small smile and bowing deeply. He is tall, with long, dark hair that is swept off his face, and sharp, calculating eyes.
“Your Highness. Welcome.” His voice is soft and pleasant, almost melodic. “I’m sure it will be tough to recall. Yoon Jeonghan, I'm the advisor to the Crown Prince.”
Right. You had an inkling that the man looked familiar. You were probably introduced to him last night, but there were so many faces that you barely remember them now. You nod and give him a pleasant smile.
“We are honored to have you with us today. This stage has been set for the knights to earn your favor. Both the participating Knights are two of our finest, and their victory is symbolic as well as functional.” He explains. You listen closely.
“They will fight for your favor. The Knight who wins today will be given the title ‘Champion of the Princess’, and awarded a ceremonial band to be attached to the arm of his uniform.”
At this, Jeonghan waves his hand, and an attendant steps forward holding a maroon velvet cushion. Sitting on it is a wide band adorned with the royal family emblem embroidered in gold thread. You nod, understanding your role in today’s proceedings.
Jeonghan nods pleasantly before moving to the Prince, the King and the Queen, he asks their permission to begin, approaching the King last, as his word will be the final say. Then, he dismounts from the platform. You watch him walk swiftly away.
Both Knights slide on their helmets and mount their horses. You fold your hands in your lap, happy that the joust is beginning. You’ve realised that staying unoccupied is your biggest enemy. Your mind wanders, and you are reminded of your reality in heartbreaking detail. It is very difficult to reconcile with the fact that you are as unwanted and discarded here, as you were in the castle you grew up in.
The mold you wanted to break away from is one that will follow you no matter where you go, you have realised. You will be trapped in it for your entire existence.
You focus on the fight, the sounds of the lances meeting each other, the highs and lows of the crowd, the beating of horse hooves on the solid ground. Both Knights give it their all, armor clanging with every blow, making your heart jolt along with it. Points rack up, but at the very climax of the fight, one Knight manages to de-seat the other, ramming a shoulder into his opponent and sending him hurtling to the ground. The horn sounds. The cheers reach a deafening pitch. The joust is over. He has won.
It is among the cheers that the winning Knight makes his way to the raised platform where you are seated. He bows on the first step of the stairs, and you rise from your chair. The crowd quiets. At your gesture, he starts climbing the stairs to where you are. Right before you, he kneels on one knee, head bowed. Slowly, he pulls his helmet off.
It’s him, the Knight from before.
He places his helmet before his foot. He stays kneeling. His face is covered in sweat and slightly flushed from the exertion. His breaths are heavier than normal. Some strands of his dark hair stick to his temples. His eyes stay trained on your feet.
The trumpets sound again and the Herald steps forward.
“By valor shown and points well won, Sir Choi Seungcheol is declared victor, and Champion of Her Highness the Princess!”
The crowd cheers, giving him a round of applause. The drums roll. When you raise your hand for the embroidered band, the crowd falls into a hush again, watching. You pick the cloth up, surprised by its weight despite how frail it looks. The Knight extends his arm, fist closed, and you drape the cloth over his bicep. A squire steps forward, securing it over his armor, a visible show of his devotion to the Crown.
The Knight reaches his hand forward, palm up, and carefully, you place your hand in his gloved one. The leather feels coarse but warm against your skin. He leans forward in one smooth movement, and you feel his lips press over your bare knuckles. It’s the lightest brush, his eyelids close as he does. You feel the pinpoint where his lips touch your skin, soft, reverent. When he opens his eyes again, he still doesn’t look at you, gaze on your feet the entire time. But his posture is not as rigid as it was previously. He has almost softened himself, his body curved forward a little. Submission. Devotion.
Your heart skips for a fraction of a second. He lets go of your hand and stands.
The drums start a new beat, a celebratory one. The crowd cheers. The Knight gives one final bow before descending the stairs. You watch his back for a few seconds before you return to your seat. For a brief moment, it felt like your world shrank. But now, as you clue into everything around you again, the cold, hollow despair from before settles into your chest again.
Your temporary reprieve disappears.
…………………………………..
Mingyu’s first letter finds you that very evening.
You’re surprised he wrote to you so soon after your departure, but you’re relieved to hear from someone who is not a complete stranger to you. As you wind down from the night, seated on an armchair in front of the fireplace as Eunhee pours lemon tea in a cup for you, you read your brother’s neat scrawl. The farther down your eyes go, the more your heart pounds and your mind races. Once you’re done, you let the letter rest on your lap, staring at nothing as you process.
Mingyu knew.
Suddenly, it all makes sense. The worry in his voice when he assured you that he was with you whenever you needed him. The urgency in his tone when he told you to write to him as much as you could. He knew who you were marrying, what his extracurricular activities were. If he knew, then that means your parents definitely knew too. And yet, they married you to him anyway.
Mingyu’s letter states that trade agreements and peace treaties between your nations were hanging in the balance when this marriage was proposed, and with how poorly their people were already doing, this was a deal they couldn’t pass up. As future King and heir to the throne, Mingyu was privy to all these details while you were not. You almost want to laugh. Of course you did not know. Why would anyone bother telling you that your marriage is nothing but a contract? You don’t matter. You are secondary to all other moving parts in this union. A pawn in everyone else’s game of chess.
You almost want to slap yourself for how stupid you have been. To hope that this family wanted to marry you for you, because they heard of the Princess and desired her for their son. It was the first time in your life that you felt like you had worth. But you were wrong, ridiculously naïve. Your value is nothing but political. You…. you are nothing. You have always been nothing. Your brother has confirmed it.
There is only despair. There is no other feeling.
Eunhee seems to notice your change in energy. She hesitates, placing the cup on a small table right by your armrest. The tea lets out soft billows of steam. You watch it.
Eunhee sits next to the table in silence that is deafening. The letter in your lap lays there, under the weight of your hands. You do not have the strength to make anything of the jumbled mess in your head, so you just stare blankly. The Prince, your husband, had not even bothered to accompany you to your chamber like yesterday night. You had not seen him since dinner.
There’s a knock on your door that startles you from your thoughts. Eunhee gets up to answer it. You fold the letter still in your hands, trying to ignore how badly your hands are shaking and placing it on the table next to your cup.
“Champion of His Highness, Sir Choi Seungcheol requests an audience.” Eunhee says.
You blink, surprised. You were anticipating a meeting with your Knight shortly, but not the exact day he received your favor. You nod anyway, and Eunhee promptly turns to open the door. You watch the Knight step in.
He has changed out of his armor. He's wearing a doublet; a padded jacket fitted snugly to his figure, in rich maroon color bearing a coat of arms and rows of gold medals in lines on his breast plate, leg coverings and leather boots. On his hip rests a sheathed sword. Despite the absence of his heavy armor plates, he is broad shouldered and sturdy. He bows deeply.
“My sincerest apologies for disturbing you, Your Highness.” He speaks. It’s the first time you have heard him utter words. His voice is gravelly and deep, but low and undisturbing. You wave off the apology.
“No matter. Why have you come?”
“It is regarding tomorrow’s fair.” He states, walking closer and falling to one knee, stabilising himself near your feet. His hand rests on his raised knee as he speaks, not looking directly at you, but over your shoulder. Your teeth clench. You don’t like that he won’t meet your eyes. It feels like he’s talking to air, to someone insignificant. This is exactly how your mother and father spoke to you. You know he’s doing it out of respect, but it makes your already simmering anger boil a bit more.
“It will be held in the Town Square, and your attendance will be revered.” He continues, not noticing that you’re seething. You try to calm yourself with some covert breaths. “Your Highness will observe from a safe distance. First within your carriage and then from a specially prepared pavilion. There will be an archery contest that will be conducted under your blessing, but besides that, there will not be much duty for Your Highness. I will, of course, escort you throughout it, as well as His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Your heart squeezes painfully at the mention of your husband. Your mood immediately sours.
“Right.” You say in a clipped tone.
The Knight, Seungcheol, stiffens almost imperceptibly. His eyes almost shift to you. Almost. A small silence hangs between you before he speaks again. “Anything that is not to Her Highness’ liking will obviously be altered.”
You did not guess that he would notice your disapproval. You think for a few seconds. You don’t want to sit with the Prince. If you can help it in any way, you want to be far away from him. Should you dare? You find that the irritation simmering just under your skin is giving you courage.
“Can there be separate pavilions?”
You don’t have to see Eunhee to know she is shifting uncomfortably behind you. The Knight is taken aback, so much that he finally meets your eyes. Warm brown, like a shock to the system. His gaze feels like it zips through the air to connect him directly to you. No part of his expression betrays how he feels, but his eyes are open, honest. He gives you the slightest of nods, not looking away. The weight of his stare is heavy, strong. Reassuring.
“Your comfort is my most important duty. It will be arranged as you desire.”
You visibly relax. He understands what you mean. You don’t want to sit next to that man for hours if being in his presence feels like a thousand knives marring your skin. Even if that man is your husband. His betrayal and his lack of acknowledgment of your presence is too much. Any second in his vicinity feels like it is poisoning your blood. Mingyu’s letter, his admission of guilt, has done one thing; it has replaced your despair with boiling rage.
Your Knight knows this. His stare, his promise, is like balm to your wounded soul.
When he leaves and Eunhee retires for the night, you pick up the letter your brother wrote you and carry it to the fireplace. You watch the flames lick over the paper, slowly dissolving it. As the fire burns the ink, you feel like it is actually burning bridges.
Your sleep is deep and dreamless.
……………………………….
You are endlessly grateful that you are dressed down for the fair. Well, dressed down by royal standards, at least. You are still embellished head to toe, but there are fewer layers, so when you sit in your carriage and wait for the Prince to join you so you can leave, you are much more comfortable than you were on your previous travel.
That morning, Eunhee is the only one getting you dressed. It is quiet in your chambers, but Eunhee’s hands are slow, movements staccatoed and rough. You wonder if something is on her mind, and when she laces you up wrong twice before getting it right, you finally speak to her.
“Tell me what is bothering you, Eunhee.”
Her hands pause briefly, but not brief enough for it to go unnoticed. When she inhales, you can see that it is shaky. Something is wrong.
“Eunhee.” You say again, voice softer this time, more open. Finally, she swallows tightly and speaks.
“Her Majesty the Queen called for me last night after I retired from Her Highness’ chambers.” She mumbles, so quietly that you almost don’t hear. You are alone in the large room, but it seems like she still fears being overheard. Her words catch your attention.
“Why so?” You ask.
“Her Majesty was- was asking about Her Highness and His Highness the Crown Prince. Her Majesty wanted to know of your….. relations.”
You feel like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on you. “She wanted to know if we consummated the marriage?”
Eunhee’s face turns beet red. She does not respond. You feel that anger again, the same anger that clouded your senses last night. The Queen is inquiring about your movements like you are some common criminal. As if any of this is your fault, and not her vile son’s.
“What did you say?”
Eunhee quickly shakes her head, not meeting your eyes, her face resolutely turned to the floor, but her voice has hardened. “I told Her Majesty nothing.”
You let out a trembling exhale. You had not expected Eunhee to be loyal to you. You barely know her. Yet, she risked earning the Queen’s displeasure to protect you, someone who still has no footing in this castle.
“Thank you.” You whisper. And you truly mean it. Eunhee’s eyes raise up to meet yours, and you notice for the first time the tiny wrinkles on the corners of her eyes.
“Her Highness was deeply wronged.” She states. You feel your throat tighten. A second passes, and then Eunhee bows her head again, closing her eyes.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
The interaction is heavy on your mind when you sit in the carriage. You know for a fact that Eunhee is right, you have been deeply wronged, and you had stewed in that very sentiment for days. But you had not expected anyone from this castle to understand that feeling. Your own brother tried to justify it, despite being the one person you felt you could trust above all else. It seems everyone within these four walls expected you to take your circumstances in stride. But this handmaid assigned to you could feel your pain, and that made your burden lift just slightly.
You are pulled from your thoughts when the carriage door opens and your Knight, Seungcheol, climbs in right opposite to you. You are surprised when he closes the door behind him, and within seconds, the carriage starts moving under you. You blink.
“Where is the Crown Prince?”
The Knight gestures. “In the carriage behind Her Highness and I.”
You’re surprised. Your next instinct is to ask why, but your voice dies in your throat. Your Knight doesn’t look at you, instead opting to look out of the window.
“Is this your doing?” You ask instead.
He lowers his head slightly, and that essentially confirms it. A small silence hangs between you two. Through the open window, the wind rustles through your hair.
“If I have misread Her Highness’ wishes, I’m sincerely regretful.” He says.
He won’t look at you, still. You grit your teeth.
“Please look me in the eye when you speak to me, Sir Choi.”
He seems caught off guard, but he immediately shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness.”
You tap your foot lightly on the ground, staring at the Knight dead on. “So you can make decisions on my behalf, but you cannot look at me when you speak?”
You can see the moment his jaw ticks, clenching. A tiny tendril of amusement curls in your chest as you watch him battle with himself. It feels good, catching him off guard like this. Finally, he meets your eye. The same blazing brown from last night, illuminated today by the rays of the sun the way they were by the fireplace yesterday. You can’t help but smile.
“Good.” You quip. “Thank you. And thank you for….. arranging separate carriages. You have not misread my wishes at all, Sir Choi.”
He nods, and you see the ghost of a smile cross his lips. They’re plump and pink, and you force yourself to not look at them.
“If Her Highness insists I meet her eyes, then I insist she not call me Sir Choi.”
His tone is softer than the no-nonsense one from yesterday. The tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth shows you that he carries at least some jest in his request. Your amusement swells a little.
“What do you prefer then? Seungcheol?”
Something in the amber burning in his eyes softens. “Yes.”
The collar of your dress feels unusually hot. You watch Seungcheol for a few more moments, finally turning away from the glint in his eyes when you feel like the weight of it is too much to carry. The wind is cool on your heated skin.
You don’t say a word more.
………………………………..
The carriage roof can be peeled all the way back, and as you get closer to the town, Seungcheol bangs the side of it until it slows and stops. Then, he pulls the roof until it collapses, leaving you in open air so the crowds can see you as you arrive. There are some adjustments, some voices, and you hear footsteps from behind you.
“The townspeople will talk if you arrive separately.” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. You nod.
Your husband climbs into the carriage and seats himself next to you. Opposite him, a man settles down beside Seungcheol. You recognise him as Jeonghan, the Prince’s advisor.
“Your Highness.” He greets jovially. “Honored to be in your presence again.”
You nod amicably and give him a soft smile. Your husband doesn’t speak a word, despite not having seen you since last night as well. You do not care. Any kindling of infatuation you have for him died the night you laid alone in your chambers while he slept with another woman. Maybe multiple. You do not have a morsel of interest in the man anymore.
Seungcheol bangs the side of the carriage again. The procession begins moving.
The fair is sensational. You can tell that the townsfolk went all out to the best of their ability, now cheering and clapping as you ride through them, waving. The path your carriage takes is decorated as well, lined with flower petals, and the pavilion where you sit in the Town Square is colorful. Of course, it lacks the grace of most castle decorations, but it has heart. One look at the streaming banners and flower arrangements tells you that it was decorated out of love and admiration, and not out of obligation. You prefer this vastly to the castle ornaments that often feel cold and distant.
You are excited as you sit on the large cushioned chair fashioned into a throne, the Prince on the seat beside yours. Seungcheol stands at your arm, one hand on the hilt of his blade. You wish he would relax a bit, especially as the archery contest begins, but you feel better that he is beside you. You know it is only because you are the Crown Prince’s wife, but Seungcheol’s respect feels…. genuine. Like it extends beyond just his duty. Because if it didn’t, he would not go out of his way to make sure your journey here was comfortable, separating you and the Prince into different carriages. You’re still unsure of how he pulled that off, but you assume the Knight who is Champion to the Princess might have some extra authority not awarded to anyone else.
You manage to have a wonderful time at the fare, meeting the commonfolk who hang on to your every word, the Town’s mayor, other town officials, and some prominent business owners. A lot of them give Seungcheol attention as well, greeting him enthusiastically after receiving wishes from you. When you give your Knight a questioning look, he returns it sheepishly.
“This is my hometown.” He explains.
Ah. You can almost feel it now that he has revealed this fact to you. There is certain warmth in the people here that reflects in him sometimes, when he is not being overly stoic. The kind of warmth you saw in him when you were in the carriage. While he has been hardened by the rigorous years of training for the Royal Guard, some part of him is still defined by where he comes from. You find that notion heartwarming.
There is no part of where you come from that you wish to carry with you, but you are a complete product of it, down to your very bones. You wonder what people see when they look at you from afar, or when they meet you up close. Is any facet of you interesting or admirable? Or is it only your stature as a Princess that they revere? Your title, and not your person?
When the sky gets a little dimmer, it is time for you to leave. Your chest feels heavy, and you almost want to stay longer. But as it always is, you must not dwell. There is no room to stop. You sit in separate carriages again, and Seungcheol tugs the roof of the carriage back into place so the wind doesn’t disturb you. You stare out the window, surroundings blurring as the horses pick up speed. Your insides are comfortably tender.
“I wish to come back here.” You declare, turning to look at the Knight sitting opposite to you. He meets your eye, just as you requested, and you feel like he’s listening, really truly taking in what you have to say instead of letting your words pass him by like everyone else does. He smiles, that gentle uptick of his lips. The long shadows of the golden sunset fall over his pale skin, and you are reminded of swirling letters of poetry on parchment.
“As Her Highness commands.”
When you smile, it’s the first genuine one in days.
……………………………..
You find out in the next few days that you do not see eye to eye with the Queen, your mother in law, at all. Granted, you discovered this when Eunhee confessed to you how the Queen wanted her to blab on you, but it has now become clear that the Queen is really, truly, unconcerned with your feelings.
On your fourteenth day in the castle, you are introduced to your ladies-in-waiting, hand picked by the Queen, and you quickly realise these women are not meant to cater to your likeness at all. They are nothing but reflections of what the Queen would like you to be. There are seven of them, and they all behave and carry themselves a certain way. A collection of Noblemen’s and aristocrats’ daughters all educated and trained within the walls of the castle. They sit with you during breakfast and accompany you as you tour the gardens that day. You have still not seen the majority of the castle, and these days, you are shown around by your Knight, Seungcheol, or your husband’s advisor, Jeonghan, when he rarely has the time. Jeonghan is quick witted and sharp, an absolute joy to have a conversation with. He toes the line between formality and informality, unlike Seungcheol, who always speaks to you with carefully chosen words. However, around Jeonghan, Seungcheol becomes slightly more loose-lipped, which is very amusing to you, and gives you a look into his personality more. You learn quickly that both of them are fast, childhood friends. Jeonghan loves to tease the man, and Seungcheol, despite all his composure, is quick to be affected by his friend’s jests.
“You shouldn’t wander off into the grounds with only your company, Princess.” Jeonghan says one day, his tone playful. “Seungcheol here would lose his head.”
Seungcheol balks and winces, glaring at Jeonghan, but the heat in it fades when you let out a delighted laugh.
“Oh, I’m sure that is not possible. He is at my door every morning when dawn breaks. I cannot step foot outside without him in tow.”
Seungcheol huffs but there is no heat behind it. “Do I hover, Your Highness?”
“You do.” You nod. Jeonghan laughs in that choppy, giggly way of his. You give him a subtle wink when Seungcheol is busy taking a deep, stabilising breath to stop himself from telling you both how it’s his ‘duty’ and that he ‘took an oath of fealty’. Jeonghan has already teased him about that speech. His lips tug up, pushing together, and you honestly believe that your Knight, Champion to the Princess, Commander of the Royal Guard’s largest garrison, is pouting.
When you turn your head to meet his eyes, you give him a playful smile.
“Don’t be petulant, Sir Choi.”
Jeonghan ‘oooh’s in a way that pulls another laugh out of you. Seungcheol is fighting back a smile.
Today, however, Jeonghan is not present as your ladies in waiting traipse through the flower gardens along the west wall with you. Seungcheol is there, as always, but a few feet behind all of you to maintain respect. The ladies are very chatty, which is good because you can just listen without contributing too much, but a few hours into the day, the buzz of conversation starts to numb your brain.
Mid-afternoon, you excuse yourself with a headache, trudging back to your chambers after they all bow to you and you dismiss them. The corridor to your doors is blissfully silent, and you sigh loudly.
“Too much for your taste, Your Highness?”
You huff but don’t look back at your Knight. “Very. I’m drained.”
He lets out an airy chuckle, and your lip ticks up at the sound.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Chief Advisor and I bother you just as much when we accompany you.”
You laugh. “Not at all. Your conversations are endlessly amusing. Stimulating. I enjoy spending time with you.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and he doesn’t say anything more, but you swear you hear a breath hitch. The clanking of his chainmail sounds with it, so you are unsure. You don’t dwell on the thought.
When you reach your chamber doors, Seungcheol holds them open for you. You linger at the threshold, looking up at him with an exasperated expression.
“Must I spend all my days with them?”
His face is painted with amusement, and he nods. “I’m afraid so. The only way to avoid them is if you have official events and meetings.”
You hum and purse your lips, dejected. Seungcheol’s face clouds a little, like he is in thought.
“I can stretch your schedule, if you like. To keep you busy.”
You make a face. You don’t much like royal commitments. They are often stuffy and overly performative. Both options seem tiresome, whether it is meetings, or free days with a gaggle of talkative girls. You have another thought.
“You will be with me during any schedule set for me?” You ask.
Seungcheol nods. “Of course, Princess.”
“And no one else?”
He pauses. “I’m not sure. It depends on the nature of the schedule.”
You nod slowly. “Only you. And Eunhee.”
Your statement catches him off guard. He stares at you for a few long seconds, before he realises what he is doing and blinks, breaking the contact and looking down.
“As you wish.” He mutters. His shoulders have curved in slightly. His ears are tinged pink. You smile and step inside.
Eunhee is waiting for you with tea. You give her a grateful smile before settling into your armchair. You have subconsciously claimed this one as your spot, and Eunhee has learned to arrange everything around it to your convenience. She places your cup delicately on the table.
“How was your first day with the ladies in waiting, Your Highness?”
You let out a painful sigh. “They are….. enthusiastic.”
Eunhee smiles as she cuts fruit. You watch her.
Ever since Eunhee swore loyalty to you, you have formed a bond with her that you haven’t had with anyone for a long time. You had dismissed Hana immediately after Eunhee told you who she was, and you had asked Seungcheol to completely pack Eunhee’s day from top to bottom with tasks, on her request, so she could remain hidden either in your chambers, or with the seamstresses, or in the kitchens, away from the Queen’s eyes, so she may not sink her claws into Eunhee again. That had resulted in long stretches of time where it was just her and you.
You learn that Eunhee is married, and her husband is a soldier for the Royal Guard, a man named Soonyoung who is part of the garrison that Seungcheol leads. She got married merely a year before you, and the reason she was chosen as your personal maid was that she came heavily recommended by Jeonghan, who is wonderful friends with Soonyoung and has known Eunhee for a while.
“My mother worked for the Chief Advisor’s mother.” Eunhee explained to you. “The lady watched me grow up and trained within the castle walls. She and the Chief Advisor both believed I was best suited for your needs.”
“I’m glad.” You had said. “You are…. all I have, Eunhee.”
Her returning look had been forlorn.
“You have Sir Choi too, Your Highness.” She said. “He is loyal to you.”
You gave her a bitter smile. “He is loyal to the Crown.”
She shook her head immediately. “He is loyal to your Crown. He received favor from Your Highness, not the King. He serves you, not anyone else.”
When you didn’t reply, she just smiled.
“You will see, Princess.”
Eunhee’s words, her promise, stays with you in the days after that conversation, and it makes everything more noticeable. You feel Seungcheol’s care in little actions, your schedule explained to you beforehand and tweaked to cater every request, his physical presence, constantly behind you by five paces, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who interacts with you. When someone steps too close, he steps in, one arm extended to maintain distance between yourself and anyone else. And he makes exceptions for no one. Anything you want is arranged the second it falls from your lips, even if it’s a request as small as more comfortable seating, or as large as rearranging castle staff to whoever your liking suits. Seungcheol is with you, as said, from the moment the sun rises to the moment the moon is high in the sky and you retire to your bed. He does not leave until Eunhee leaves, and the guards outside your doors are meticulously picked and stationed by him.
“Your life and safety are my biggest priority.” He always says, a phrase that is said so resolutely, you would think it is seared into his brain. You don’t question it, because he leaves no room for doubt.
Eunhee’s words remain. They always remain. Like a balm on your injured, broken heart.
You think of your husband in fleeting thoughts. During Court, you sit by his side, the perfect new couple who will eventually take the throne and give the nation their next heir. The Court Advisors, Councillors and Noblemen have warmed up to you well enough, but of course, the Crown Prince is their main focus. You are nothing but his wife, at this point. An extension of him. A poorly kept, ignored, discarded extension.
He barely steps into your shared chambers. He barely exchanges words with you. You see Hana sometimes, and she bows weakly. She meets your eyes. Her necklace is gold, her perfume is disrespectfully strong. There are others. A councillor’s daughter. A nobleman’s. A royal guard’s. Eunhee tells you, repeatedly, that they are beneath you, but you conclude that it hurts worse that way, to be humiliated by those who are and will never be your equal, but are preferred by your own husband over you.
You are unable to explain to anyone how painful it is to feel your soul crack at its very foundations.
Seungcheol comes to you in the morning with an appointment that fills your heart with dread.
“There is a visiting envoy of foreign noblewomen arriving at the castle gates in four hours.” He says from where he sits in front of your fireplace, a few pieces of lengthy parchment in his hands that he is poring over. You stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror, watching yourself as Eunhee straightens your skirts, smoothing the wrinkles and adjusting the layers. It’s a grander dress than your usual attire, given the visitors entering the castle soon. You listen to Seungcheol tell you all the details quietly.
“Originally, Her Majesty the Queen was going to handle it herself, but this morning she specifically stated that your presence is mandatory as the new bride.”
You scoff, an undignified sound you would only dare let out in front of your handmaid and your Knight. “I have been living in this castle for four months. I’m hardly a new bride.”
“You are new to the visitors, Princess.” Seungcheol explains, ever patient with you. “The last time they were here, you were not married.”
You just grit your jaw tightly and don’t reply. You try to avoid the Queen unless it’s during Court or audiences. There too, you sit in silence and focus more on others than her. You know she is not particularly fond of you because you have not taken your husband’s lifestyle in stride. Many times, you have overheard her talk loudly to her ladies-in-waiting, claiming that you are arrogant and disobedient, and think too highly of yourself to be acting like you are.
“Men will always require more attention than one woman can give.” She would sneer. “It’s in their nature. She should be grateful that others are taking her load and providing their services.”
“Quite right, Your Majesty.” A lady in her entourage would quip, one who is many years the Queen’s junior, and very famously one of the King’s concubines. Even the thought that the Queen has kept one of her husband’s mistresses as her lady-in-waiting is appalling to you, but you know you are alone in these feelings. Within these castle walls, this is normal. Being chosen by royal blood for nightly attendances is considered the highest honor for these women, and they vie for the men’s interest. The very notion makes you sick to your stomach. You can never be like them. It would kill you.
You draw in a long, steadying breath at the thought of joining the Queen for today. You know that the whole day you will be weighed heavy with passive aggression and rude remarks. Not only does the Queen not forbid her ladies from being disrespectful to you, she actively encourages it. As you think about what awaits you as you walk down from your chambers, Seungcheol watches you closely.
“I know it will be difficult.” He mumbles. “I’m sincerely apologetic, Princess. I tried to schedule you for another commitment, but even I cannot raise a voice louder than the Queen.”
You wave his apology away. “Don’t fret, Seungcheol. Sometimes you have to face the music. Today is just that day for me.”
He shakes his head, never allowing himself to fall in step with you. At the bottom of the stairs, you turn to give him a smile. “I’m only upset you won’t be with me today.”
Seungcheol meets your eyes briefly, letting out a small chuckle and looking away. He still can’t look at you directly for more than a few seconds still, especially not somewhere that other people can see.
“Anytime you need me, just send for me.” He says, like it’s a placation. It is. You nod and smile.
It goes worse than you ever could have imagined.
The envoy is filled with older women who have known your mother in law for a long time. You are introduced to all of them with a certain distasteful tone in the Queen’s voice, and are bombarded with a flurry of questions, the most common one being why on earth you are not with child yet. You bite your lip on all of them, throughout the feast, the tour of the castle grounds afterwards, then tea. You listen to them gossip and giggle, and since you’re the new attraction, most jabs end up aimed at you. Catty and sharp, like knives, and they all take their liberties further when they see that the Queen is egging them on.
You’re exhausted.
“Straighten up.” The Queen says sharply from next to you as you stand in the castle gardens towards the north gate. You stiffen your body immediately, but she still seems unsatisfied.
“You have been cold and rude to our guests all day.” She states. “Is this how you’ve been raised? Some royalty you are. I should’ve known your ragged family would raise a petulant, disrespectful girl.”
Your mouth tightens. You don’t say anything. She sneers audibly.
“Be under no illusions, girl. There are many who can give this throne an heir. It doesn’t have to be you. You’re disposable to everyone in this castle.”
She shifts her attention back to the happenings around you. You feel like your ears are ringing.
It is after the dinner feast that you are finally excused from your duties. You trudge slowly back to your chambers. Your posture is still stiff and pulled up, like you’re marching through Court with hundreds of eyes on you. Your muscles are pulled taut, and your ears are still ringing. Something has formed a knot at the apex of your throat, and it has not loosened for many hours.
“Your Highness.” You hear his voice from behind you, and your steps halt. You hear the heavy thud of his leather boots on the stone floors. He stops next to you. You don’t look at him.
“Princess.” His voice has lowered, and it is tinged with caution when you don’t respond. “You are distressed.”
It is not a question, but rather a statement. He has been with you every day for months. So he knows. There is no doubt.
“I am weary, Seungcheol.” You whisper. You hear your voice waver. Your stare is blank and distant.
You feel a hand then, strong and sure, on your back, between your shoulder blades. A gentle nudge makes your feet move again, and slowly, you walk down the long hall that leads to your chambers.
You don’t know how you end up in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It’s already roaring, ready, and you try to make your muscles melt into the cushion. But they won’t cooperate, tight and unmoving. Hours of being on alarm has left you rock solid.
“I will send for Eunhee.” Seungcheol says after you’ve seated yourself. Before he can move away, your hand shoots up, gripping his wrist tightly.
“Don’t leave.” Your voice is frailer than you would like it to be, but you can no longer fake being strong after so many hours of doing so. Seungcheol looks shocked, eyes shooting to where your hand holds his arm. You take it away, but you give him a pleading look. Immediately, he nods, lowering himself to one knee on the floor near your feet.
For a few long moments, there is only silence. Then, you take a shaky breath.
“Most days I feel like I’m floating.” You say. “Untethered and weightless.
Like my presence holds no bearing in these walls.”
Seungcheol doesn’t speak.
“I mean nothing.” You continue. “I have meant nothing my entire life. I was a second-born daughter to a throne that already had its heir. Now I am married into a family where women are objects for their men’s whims and an indulgence for their bad habits.”
You look at your Knight, down on one knee before you. He watches you openly, his eyes soft, a warm brown you can lose yourself in.
“What is my worth, Seungcheol?” You muse, pressure building behind your eyes. “What do I mean to anyone here?”
You can see when Seungcheol’s lips part. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He takes his time, like he is searching for words.
“My mother was a lady-in-waiting for Her Majesty the Queen.” He states.
You blink, shocked. He nods, as if to reaffirm the sentence.
“She was selected before the then Princess was even married into the royal family, and introduced to the Princess one week after her arrival here. Three of the ladies-in-waiting for the Princess were the then Prince’s mistresses.”
“The Queen knew even before she was married how things worked within these walls. She knew her husband had mistresses, and her only goal as soon as she arrived at the castle was to bear unto him an heir. She felt that it was the one thing that would give her more value than any other woman in her husband’s bed. The thing that would separate her from them.”
You listen in dead silence.
“My mother watched all this.” He says. “She watched the Queen take any measure to gain her husband’s attention. The minute she knew she was with child, her husband mattered to her no more. She earned respect within these walls because she was carrying his blood. She established herself as that only, the mother of the heir. Not the Queen. Not the bearer of the Crown. Her pride came from her son.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What are you implying, Seungcheol?”
Your Knight blinks, then smiles. But it is sad, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I imply nothing, Princess. I am merely explaining that the Queen is so harsh with you because you are everything she wasn’t. And that scares her. She fears what she does not know and cannot predict.”
He lowers his head and continues speaking. “You may feel weightless and inconsequential. But there is strength behind your refusal to cater to the Prince. You have made a statement that you won’t let yourself be degraded like she was her entire life. Your lack of submission makes her furious. She thinks her reminders of your disposability will break you.”
When he lifts his head again, his eyes have hardened just slightly with a fire that pierces your heart. “You must not break, Your Highness.”
You stare at him for a long time. The resolute jut of his jaw, the way his eyes lock on you for this prolonged period of time, something he has never done before. The shadows from the fireplace dance over his face, but they don’t undercut the determination in his expression.
“Why?” You whisper in the quiet of the room. “Why are you so loyal to me, Seungcheol? You do not know me. You know the people in this castle. I am a mere outsider.”
He shakes his head, still not looking away. His gaze is like a comfortable weight around your shoulders.
“My mother told me about the Queen to prepare me for how you would be as well.” He speaks quietly. “I went into your service fully expecting you to be complacent to this system. But you weren’t.”
Seungcheol slowly lowers himself from one knee to both. Your breath hitches. He’s kneeling on both knees, the ultimate form of devotion to a royal.
“You were headstrong and unwilling to give in to whatever demands were imposed on you.” His eyes flicker and dim. “I am ashamed to admit that I assumed you would be like the princess before you. But you resisted, and you set boundaries. You refused to give yourself to a man who didn’t share your values. That is endlessly admirable to me, Your Highness. You are endlessly admirable to me.”
He breaks your gaze then, and lowers his head slowly. You feel his forehead brush just over the fabric on your knee.
“A spirit like yours is unlike any that are housed in these four walls. And it is my duty to keep it alive. I’m devoted to you and you only, and receiving your favor was the way I could ensure I would be your personal Guard. I fought in that joust tooth and nail after I heard of your supposed refusal to cater to the Prince. I wanted to be in service to you. If I was to give duty to this Crown, I only wanted it to be yours.”
You watch Seungcheol with bated breath, like inhaling or exhaling could break the air around you. You want nothing to disturb this moment. Your chest feels full. That knot in your throat is gone. You are left only with the warmth of the fireplace, and the sizzle on your knee where Seungcheol’s forehead presses to it, his head lowered and his hair lightly brushing the velvet of your dress.
You think of the Queen’s words. ‘You are disposable to everyone in this castle’, and then you look at the man kneeling before you, his forehead pressed to your leg, his broad frame curled on himself. The weightless feeling in your heart feels a tug, like someone is pulling it down, grounding it, making it feel like you have substance.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 11.6k
warnings (for this chapter): arranged marriage, lying and betrayal, angst, feelings of inadequacy, low self worth, mentions of concubines, fight scenes, no serious bodily harm tho, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, hurt/little comfort.
series masterlist
When you first see your wedding gown, it takes your breath away.
It’s a deep blue, satin material with sprawling golden embellishments accenting every edge. All the details are hand-embroidered; you are aware that the seamstresses have been working on this dress for many months, and their hard work shows. Your feet tremble slightly as you step into the dress, the material petal-soft on your skin. You had spent all of last week being pampered to the extreme by your maids, so your skin is supple and perfumed, primed for perfection. Your head seamstress and two of your maids lace up the corseted bodice until it fits snugly against you. You lower your arms, trailing, fitted sleeves of the same beautiful satin material, and watch yourself in the mirror. Your heart beats faster than usual. It has been slowly picking up speed leading up to the wedding, and now it is nearly bursting from your chest.
Hope curdles in the depths of your heart. Hope for a new start, a happy life, a peaceful existence.
Your maids flit around, adjusting your hair and the tiny gold ornaments on your neck, your ears, your wrists. Of all your days as a princess, it is ironic that it is your last day in this castle that you look truly the most beautiful you ever have. You don’t care as much for your appearances as most royals would, but even you are moved by your reflection in the mirror today.
There is a knock on the door before it hesitantly opens. A broad shoulder and a head pokes inside, and you turn slightly to meet shocked eyes.
“Mingyu.” You smile, eyeing how smart your brother looks in his full uniform, the ceremonial outfit fitted to his large frame perfectly. He steps inside and quickly closes the door behind him, a smile breaking on his face as he watches you. Your maids add final touches, smoothing wrinkles in the many layers of the skirt.
“You look so beautiful.” He compliments. You return his grin.
Your older brother, next in line for your family’s throne, might be the only person within these four walls that you will miss when you leave. Because he is the only person in this castle who hasn’t made you feel entirely insignificant. Your own mother, the Queen, not coming to see you on the morning of your wedding day is indication enough of how little value you have in the eyes of everyone you live with.
But no matter. You will leave tonight for a new home, a royal family that actually wants you in their midst, who asked for your hand with reverence and anticipation. This hollow feeling in your chest has numbered hours left to live, and already, the tendrils of hope are wrapped around your heart, ready to strangle it and banish it completely from you.
Mingyu stays with you for a bit as your maids finish up. Then, he raises a hand and dismisses them, telling them to be back shortly. They flit out without a word, bowing respectfully to the heir as they leave. The door shuts behind them with a soft click.
“How are you feeling?” Mingyu asks. You nod.
“Very good. I’m excited.”
When Mingyu smiles this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Remember, you will leave tonight for a new home, but you will always have me when you need me. Write to me, okay?”
You turn as much as your heavy dress and long train will allow. Mingyu might be the only person who is even slightly bothered by your leaving. For everyone else, you were a temporary fixture since the moment you came into this world, the second-born after the birth of a son, that too a daughter. You had no value from the minute you left your mother’s womb. Not until today.
Mingyu is very careful as he steps close to you, as close as the dress will allow. He lets his hand brush very gently over your hair.
“You will make a wonderful Queen.”
Your eyes water. You blink the tears away before they can spill.
The wedding ceremony is lavish, grand. Despite Mingyu being older, yours is the first wedding between the two of you. The people of your land have something to celebrate, an opportunity not too heavily available to them. You’ve heard that your neighbouring nation, the one you are marrying into, is a lot more prosperous. The thought excites you. Eventually, with time, you will be Queen, and you are very interested in knowing of all the dealings of the land you will govern.
Your veil is tulle, long and embroidered so you can hardly see through it. You keep your gaze low, heart beating fast throughout the entire ceremony. You cannot see the man you’re marrying, but you can feel him next to you, your now husband, Seojoon, heir to his own land’s throne, only child of the sitting King. You’ve met him once before, immediately after your engagement a couple of years ago. He had a quieter disposition, but he carried himself with authority even then. His voice was booming and sharp, hair closely cropped and jet black. He was handsome, in a conventional sense.
You had spoken only briefly over tea, and it had been a bout of stilted conversation. You had been too jumpy and nervous, so you decided to not speak too much for fear of saying something unbecoming. You wanted to write him letters in the time after that leading up to the wedding, but your mother thought it ‘improper’ and shut it down. It’s fine. You have a whole lifetime to get to know him.
You go through the wedding with a pounding heart, every movement precise from many, many rounds of rehearsals. When your veil is finally removed after the ceremony and right before the feast, you feel like it uncovers you with a promise. A new life, a new chapter. Your hope, curling in your heart like thin tendrils, is solidifying as the time passes. You enjoy your last meal in the castle, because you know your carriages are waiting outside, ready to take you away from this horrible place.
You are seen off among lots of flourish. Your personal maid, who has been with you for many years, is openly weeping, though she is trying her hardest to not sob audibly. She kisses your hand before you mount your carriage. Even Mingyu, the strongest person you know, has damp eyes. It surprises you, but then you remember that you will likely not see Mingyu for a long time. You feel gloom tickle your heart when he gives you a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Write to me. Please.” He says again. The same thing he said before the wedding. This time, there is a slight urgency in his voice. You pull back just enough to look at him, taken aback by his tone. But he gives you a bright smile, ushering you forward before you have any room to question it.
“Go. Don’t keep them waiting.”
You don’t have time to dwell on it. The carriage in front of yours houses the King and Queen of your new nation, your husband’s parents. They are waiting for your goodbyes to end, and so you nod, taking Mingyu’s arm so he can assist you up and into the carriage where Seojoon already sits among others.
As the horses move and the wheels turn to carry you away, you give one last look to the procession that bids you farewell. Neither your mother nor your father are part of it. They didn’t even bother to come to the castle gates. For the first time in a long time, their dismissal of you doesn’t sting. This is the last time. You will never have to feel so discarded, so rejected, ever again.
You turn away from the window when the scenery starts blurring more as the horses pick up speed. You look around the cabin where you sit. Seojoon is next to you, peering out of the opposite window. In front of you sits a small woman with a frail frame, slightly older and with a thinly lined face, dressed in a plain frock and flat, brown shoes. You know her. It’s Eunhee, your new maid, who will be with you every hour of your waking moments going forward. You’d been introduced to her briefly before, and you know she was handpicked by the Queen, your mother in law, so you trust Eunhee completely.
Sitting next to her, opposite to Seojoon, is a man in uniform. He’s not in armor, but his uniform jacket is sturdy, and adorned with medals and pins showing his achievements. His hair is dark like the wet earth, parted down the middle, pale skin, strong jaw, straight nose, steel eyes. His posture is stoic and rigid, maybe even more so than royals. There’s a sheathed sword leaning against the cushion he is sitting on, right by his thigh. You look at the badges on his shoulders. A Knight.
He must feel your eyes on him, because his own turn to meet yours for a brief second. You blink and turn away, embarrassed about being caught. When you chance a glance at him again, he’s looking resolutely forward again.
No one in the carriage speaks, so you opt to stay silent as well. It has been a long, arduous day. You’re sure they are all tired. You rest your head on the cushion behind your head and close your eyes. You have many days of travel ahead, so you should try to rest whenever you can.
……………………………….
The weather is favorable, so you arrive at your new home earlier than anticipated.
You are bone-tired, not used to long days of travel. The dress that one had changed into after your ceremony is not as glamorous as your wedding dress, but it is in no way simple. The skirts are immense, and the corset is digging into you. Any dress you change into on the road is the same, overly adorned and complicated, as are worn by a new bride. Eunhee is there to lace you up every morning before you mount the carriage. Then comes hours of discomfort, until you are dressed down before sleeping for the night. By the time you reach the castle, you are near tears.
But there are expectations from the new Princess. And you must not disappoint.
A large procession waits for you at the castle gates, ready to welcome you. Throughout it, you keep a pleasant smile on your face as you have been trained to do your entire life. People bow to you, introduce themselves, hundreds of names and titles of noblemen and castle clergy that you will definitely forget. After entering the grand hallway of the castle, the Queen turns to you.
“Go with Eunhee and get ready.” She says, primly. “There will be a welcome feast soon.”
You are bone-tired, but you only nod mutely.
You don’t have the mental presence anymore to log any of your movements, so you let Eunhee and a procession of unknown women guide you through wide, stone corridors and up many, many steps. At the end of one long hallway are grand, oak doors, where two guards stand on attention. They are pushed open to reveal a sprawling room, a large poster bed with maroon drapings on the far wall, a roaring fireplace to your left, surrounded by cushy sofas and armchairs, and large rugs covering the floor. On the far wall is also a door leading to a balcony, and to the right is a door that you are guessing leads to a private bath and changing area.
It’s beautiful, and before you can properly admire your new chambers, Eunhee is gently escorting you towards a large mirror on the wall to your right. A dress is hanging next to it, maroon with gold accents, the official colors of this royal dynasty.
Three other women follow Eunhee’s lead as they slowly undo your dress to replace your new one. Your skin is marred with dark, angry marks from the corset. You wince as it comes off, and Eunhee softens her movements.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.” Her voice is so mild. Calming. You shake your head.
“Never you mind, Eunhee. I’m used to this.”
The girl next to Eunhee, who is gathering the skirt so it won’t wrinkle, speaks up. “Yes. This is all part of the duty.”
The maids freeze. You look at the girl curiously as she works. She doesn’t seem to notice the others shifting uncomfortably around her for speaking out of turn, and not using your title. You notice that she is young, maybe the same age as you, a few years younger than Eunhee, and her frock is….. tighter. Lower cut on the neckline. Her hair is looser instead of the neat buns everyone else is wearing. And she has a small bracelet on, a thin chain, but not something any maid should be wearing at all.
She makes you uneasy.
No one speaks, working quietly to slip you into your new dress. The lacing up feels agonising, and you try to take as many deep gulps of air as you can before you are again not able to breathe once it tightens. You talk yourself mentally through the process of the dinner ahead, and then, finally, you are stepping out of the room again.
The feast is packed with any and everyone who is important to the castle. Courtiers, councillors, noblemen, lords and knights. Then there is the King, the Queen, her ladies in waiting, your husband, the Crown Prince, and you, the new Crown Princess. You try to be as present and warm as you can, determined to make a good first impression despite how exhausted you are. This is your new life, these people will soon be very familiar and essential to your role in this castle. You must get along with all of them, to establish yourself. This is a new start. The days of being swatted away like a fly are over.
It takes hours, and the feast finally dies down. You and Seojoon are both dismissed, and you walk back to your chambers together. Eunhee and the Knight from before are a few steps behind you. Your heart beats a little faster. It’s late in the night, the first night you will spend with your husband. You know what will happen, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves creep up your limbs.
Once inside, Eunhee quickly de-robes you. You thank her quietly with a small smile, and her returning one is more of a wince than anything else. Her eyes look sad, dim. You wonder if she is as tired as you are, and that’s why she appears so upset.
“I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She says, voice frail.
You shake your head. “No need, Eunhee. You can leave for the night.”
She hesitates. “I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She repeats.
You don’t know what to say. Are customs different here for handmaidens? Must they wait outside all night? You assumed only a guard would. You opt to stay silent, letting Eunhee do what she thinks is best. She grew up in this castle after all, so she knows better.
You change into a softer silk gown, with a lace trim that makes your face flame up. Eunhee leaves and you enter your chambers again. Seojoon is standing in front of the fireplace, still fully dressed in his ceremonial outfit. You wonder if he will change, but then another thought enters your head. Maybe he just wants to disrobe directly. Your face heats.
He has a glass of wine in his hand. You fidget, unsure of if you should sit on the bed. You stand by it awkwardly and watch him. No one speaks while he drinks. He doesn’t even look at you. He finishes the glass quickly before setting it on the table. Then, he walks to the doors.
“I will see you in the morning.” He states, still not sparing you a glance. His voice is flat and a little tired.
You blink, shocked. Before you can ask him anything, before you can even think to protest, the heavy door swings open and he leaves in one quick step. You are left standing alone in the vast room, the only movement coming from the flames in the fireplace.
There’s a soft knock that you almost don’t hear if it weren’t for the silence in the room. Eunhee steps in very slowly. She has the same forlorn look on her face from before, and you realise that she knows something. Something she wanted to say when she was undressing you but didn’t. Something that made it necessary for her to stay outside and not retire for the night. She knew he wouldn’t be staying. She knew the reason.
“Why?” You ask, voice shaky already. There’s a feeling blooming in your chest, a sense of despair and dread previously unknown to you. Eunhee hesitates, like the very thought of answering your question pains her. She moves quickly to the tray sitting on the table next to the fireplace, pouring a glass of water for you and carrying it to the table by your bedside. She uses gentle hands to coax you to sit, and you sink into the soft mattress at the very edge. Then, she kneels on her knees right beside your legs, and peers up at you.
“Her Majesty the Queen told me you weren’t informed.” She says. “Of the Prince’s relations.”
Relations? You stare at Eunhee, unmoving. The silence in the room is pin-drop. You wait for her to keep speaking. You see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.
“The Prince indulges in…. mistresses.”
Your gaze doesn’t waver. Not a single muscle shifts. Eunhee seems to balk under your gaze.
“I am unaware of why this was kept from you, Your Highness. I assumed you would know, since the King has had concubines as well, his entire adult life. It is customary to Royals here. I was told just this very evening by Her Majesty to stay with you as you do not know. And to explain it to you.”
Your eyes wander from your handmaid, fixing on the far wall instead. The grey is solid, sturdy, but it swims in your vision. You feel the slightest of tugs, and you realise that Eunhee is clutching the hem of your robe.
“But you are his wife! Lawfully wedded. Your son will be the heir to his throne. Those concubines are mere distractions. You do not fret over them-”
“She was one of them.” You barely recognise your own voice. Detached, chilled. Eunhee immediately stops talking, so you continue.
“The maid from before. The young one who spoke out of turn. She was one of them.”
Eunhee hesitates before nodding. “Her name is Hana. She’s….. his favorite.”
You feel bile rise up in your throat. You kick your foot, disengaging Eunhee’s grip on your dress.
“Leave.”
She watches you with slight trepidation. Her hands clench and unclench. “Princess-”
“Get out.”
Your tone leaves no room for question. Eunhee promptly stands and rushes out, closing the door quietly behind her. You still stare at the wall, so grey, and as you watch, you feel like you are as grey and bleak as the walls that surround you.
………………………..
From a young age, the biggest lesson you learned as a princess who was to eventually be wed into another royal family was to never dwell.
At any point, there is too much to be done, duties to uphold, reputations to maintain, stature to solidify and alliances to form. Never can you dawdle or meander. Everything must keep flowing seamlessly from one obligation to another. Such is also the law of nature. At the end of every day, the sun sets. The earth turns one full rotation on its axis, signaling the beginning of another morning. And these processes continue stubbornly on the same timeline, no matter what. The stars do not care that your world is falling apart. The moon is unaware of the life draining from your eyes.
The morning after your arrival at the castle, on your first day of being their Crown Princess, you wake to Eunhee’s gentle voice. She bathes you, perfumes your body, helps you get dressed along with two other maids. The younger one from yesterday is notably absent. You want to believe it is because of Eunhee, and not because she spent the night with your husband.
That same nauseous feeling in your stomach threatens to rise all the way to your throat. You swallow it down.
Breakfast is grand, more than normal meals would usually be, you suspect. Celebrations will go on for days, if not weeks. You were prepared for them beforehand. You even felt excited, because in your mind, you would be attending them with your husband, enjoying everything by his side as you slowly got integrated in his life and in his heart.
He is by your side today just as you anticipated, but he feels a million miles away. Your sorrow, sizzling under the surface of your skin, is marinating, feeding on every interaction between you two. He barely looks at you, barely speaks to you. He says standing next to you in morning court, he seats himself right beside you during breakfast. He leads you to your seat in the colorful pavilion as you move from the castle to the jousting field right outside the castle walls. But he never spares you a glance. He never speaks a word to you. He is miles away, and you’re left alone and cold.
The King and Queen have arranged for a wedding joust in honor of you, the new bride. A fight that will decide which Knight will receive your favor. Wooden barriers encircle the enormous jousting field, lined with benches for audience viewing. The crowd is packed with courtiers, townsfolk and foreign envoys. Above them rises a tall pole with a maroon flag bearing the royal family emblem. The royal viewing platform is in the center of the right side lining the field, a raised area where you sit in large seats with the Prince, the King and the Queen. You fiddle with your dress as Eunhee smooths it. You dismiss her when she’s done, and she steps off the platform to a bench on the side. You turn your attention to the field.
It is vast, and the crowds are restless, talking cheerfully amongst themselves. On either end, to your right and left, are two horses surrounded by teams of men flitting about, getting them ready. Two Knights stand with the horses, tightening the armored plates on their bodies, preparing for the joust. You look at the man on the right, recognising him as the Knight you traveled with on the way to the castle, the pale, stiff one.
Movement catches the side of your eyes, and you turn your head. A man has walked up to the platform, giving you a small smile and bowing deeply. He is tall, with long, dark hair that is swept off his face, and sharp, calculating eyes.
“Your Highness. Welcome.” His voice is soft and pleasant, almost melodic. “I’m sure it will be tough to recall. Yoon Jeonghan, I'm the advisor to the Crown Prince.”
Right. You had an inkling that the man looked familiar. You were probably introduced to him last night, but there were so many faces that you barely remember them now. You nod and give him a pleasant smile.
“We are honored to have you with us today. This stage has been set for the knights to earn your favor. Both the participating Knights are two of our finest, and their victory is symbolic as well as functional.” He explains. You listen closely.
“They will fight for your favor. The Knight who wins today will be given the title ‘Champion of the Princess’, and awarded a ceremonial band to be attached to the arm of his uniform.”
At this, Jeonghan waves his hand, and an attendant steps forward holding a maroon velvet cushion. Sitting on it is a wide band adorned with the royal family emblem embroidered in gold thread. You nod, understanding your role in today’s proceedings.
Jeonghan nods pleasantly before moving to the Prince, the King and the Queen, he asks their permission to begin, approaching the King last, as his word will be the final say. Then, he dismounts from the platform. You watch him walk swiftly away.
Both Knights slide on their helmets and mount their horses. You fold your hands in your lap, happy that the joust is beginning. You’ve realised that staying unoccupied is your biggest enemy. Your mind wanders, and you are reminded of your reality in heartbreaking detail. It is very difficult to reconcile with the fact that you are as unwanted and discarded here, as you were in the castle you grew up in.
The mold you wanted to break away from is one that will follow you no matter where you go, you have realised. You will be trapped in it for your entire existence.
You focus on the fight, the sounds of the lances meeting each other, the highs and lows of the crowd, the beating of horse hooves on the solid ground. Both Knights give it their all, armor clanging with every blow, making your heart jolt along with it. Points rack up, but at the very climax of the fight, one Knight manages to de-seat the other, ramming a shoulder into his opponent and sending him hurtling to the ground. The horn sounds. The cheers reach a deafening pitch. The joust is over. He has won.
It is among the cheers that the winning Knight makes his way to the raised platform where you are seated. He bows on the first step of the stairs, and you rise from your chair. The crowd quiets. At your gesture, he starts climbing the stairs to where you are. Right before you, he kneels on one knee, head bowed. Slowly, he pulls his helmet off.
It’s him, the Knight from before.
He places his helmet before his foot. He stays kneeling. His face is covered in sweat and slightly flushed from the exertion. His breaths are heavier than normal. Some strands of his dark hair stick to his temples. His eyes stay trained on your feet.
The trumpets sound again and the Herald steps forward.
“By valor shown and points well won, Sir Choi Seungcheol is declared victor, and Champion of Her Highness the Princess!”
The crowd cheers, giving him a round of applause. The drums roll. When you raise your hand for the embroidered band, the crowd falls into a hush again, watching. You pick the cloth up, surprised by its weight despite how frail it looks. The Knight extends his arm, fist closed, and you drape the cloth over his bicep. A squire steps forward, securing it over his armor, a visible show of his devotion to the Crown.
The Knight reaches his hand forward, palm up, and carefully, you place your hand in his gloved one. The leather feels coarse but warm against your skin. He leans forward in one smooth movement, and you feel his lips press over your bare knuckles. It’s the lightest brush, his eyelids close as he does. You feel the pinpoint where his lips touch your skin, soft, reverent. When he opens his eyes again, he still doesn’t look at you, gaze on your feet the entire time. But his posture is not as rigid as it was previously. He has almost softened himself, his body curved forward a little. Submission. Devotion.
Your heart skips for a fraction of a second. He lets go of your hand and stands.
The drums start a new beat, a celebratory one. The crowd cheers. The Knight gives one final bow before descending the stairs. You watch his back for a few seconds before you return to your seat. For a brief moment, it felt like your world shrank. But now, as you clue into everything around you again, the cold, hollow despair from before settles into your chest again.
Your temporary reprieve disappears.
…………………………………..
Mingyu’s first letter finds you that very evening.
You’re surprised he wrote to you so soon after your departure, but you’re relieved to hear from someone who is not a complete stranger to you. As you wind down from the night, seated on an armchair in front of the fireplace as Eunhee pours lemon tea in a cup for you, you read your brother’s neat scrawl. The farther down your eyes go, the more your heart pounds and your mind races. Once you’re done, you let the letter rest on your lap, staring at nothing as you process.
Mingyu knew.
Suddenly, it all makes sense. The worry in his voice when he assured you that he was with you whenever you needed him. The urgency in his tone when he told you to write to him as much as you could. He knew who you were marrying, what his extracurricular activities were. If he knew, then that means your parents definitely knew too. And yet, they married you to him anyway.
Mingyu’s letter states that trade agreements and peace treaties between your nations were hanging in the balance when this marriage was proposed, and with how poorly their people were already doing, this was a deal they couldn’t pass up. As future King and heir to the throne, Mingyu was privy to all these details while you were not. You almost want to laugh. Of course you did not know. Why would anyone bother telling you that your marriage is nothing but a contract? You don’t matter. You are secondary to all other moving parts in this union. A pawn in everyone else’s game of chess.
You almost want to slap yourself for how stupid you have been. To hope that this family wanted to marry you for you, because they heard of the Princess and desired her for their son. It was the first time in your life that you felt like you had worth. But you were wrong, ridiculously naïve. Your value is nothing but political. You…. you are nothing. You have always been nothing. Your brother has confirmed it.
There is only despair. There is no other feeling.
Eunhee seems to notice your change in energy. She hesitates, placing the cup on a small table right by your armrest. The tea lets out soft billows of steam. You watch it.
Eunhee sits next to the table in silence that is deafening. The letter in your lap lays there, under the weight of your hands. You do not have the strength to make anything of the jumbled mess in your head, so you just stare blankly. The Prince, your husband, had not even bothered to accompany you to your chamber like yesterday night. You had not seen him since dinner.
There’s a knock on your door that startles you from your thoughts. Eunhee gets up to answer it. You fold the letter still in your hands, trying to ignore how badly your hands are shaking and placing it on the table next to your cup.
“Champion of His Highness, Sir Choi Seungcheol requests an audience.” Eunhee says.
You blink, surprised. You were anticipating a meeting with your Knight shortly, but not the exact day he received your favor. You nod anyway, and Eunhee promptly turns to open the door. You watch the Knight step in.
He has changed out of his armor. He's wearing a doublet; a padded jacket fitted snugly to his figure, in rich maroon color bearing a coat of arms and rows of gold medals in lines on his breast plate, leg coverings and leather boots. On his hip rests a sheathed sword. Despite the absence of his heavy armor plates, he is broad shouldered and sturdy. He bows deeply.
“My sincerest apologies for disturbing you, Your Highness.” He speaks. It’s the first time you have heard him utter words. His voice is gravelly and deep, but low and undisturbing. You wave off the apology.
“No matter. Why have you come?”
“It is regarding tomorrow’s fair.” He states, walking closer and falling to one knee, stabilising himself near your feet. His hand rests on his raised knee as he speaks, not looking directly at you, but over your shoulder. Your teeth clench. You don’t like that he won’t meet your eyes. It feels like he’s talking to air, to someone insignificant. This is exactly how your mother and father spoke to you. You know he’s doing it out of respect, but it makes your already simmering anger boil a bit more.
“It will be held in the Town Square, and your attendance will be revered.” He continues, not noticing that you’re seething. You try to calm yourself with some covert breaths. “Your Highness will observe from a safe distance. First within your carriage and then from a specially prepared pavilion. There will be an archery contest that will be conducted under your blessing, but besides that, there will not be much duty for Your Highness. I will, of course, escort you throughout it, as well as His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Your heart squeezes painfully at the mention of your husband. Your mood immediately sours.
“Right.” You say in a clipped tone.
The Knight, Seungcheol, stiffens almost imperceptibly. His eyes almost shift to you. Almost. A small silence hangs between you before he speaks again. “Anything that is not to Her Highness’ liking will obviously be altered.”
You did not guess that he would notice your disapproval. You think for a few seconds. You don’t want to sit with the Prince. If you can help it in any way, you want to be far away from him. Should you dare? You find that the irritation simmering just under your skin is giving you courage.
“Can there be separate pavilions?”
You don’t have to see Eunhee to know she is shifting uncomfortably behind you. The Knight is taken aback, so much that he finally meets your eyes. Warm brown, like a shock to the system. His gaze feels like it zips through the air to connect him directly to you. No part of his expression betrays how he feels, but his eyes are open, honest. He gives you the slightest of nods, not looking away. The weight of his stare is heavy, strong. Reassuring.
“Your comfort is my most important duty. It will be arranged as you desire.”
You visibly relax. He understands what you mean. You don’t want to sit next to that man for hours if being in his presence feels like a thousand knives marring your skin. Even if that man is your husband. His betrayal and his lack of acknowledgment of your presence is too much. Any second in his vicinity feels like it is poisoning your blood. Mingyu’s letter, his admission of guilt, has done one thing; it has replaced your despair with boiling rage.
Your Knight knows this. His stare, his promise, is like balm to your wounded soul.
When he leaves and Eunhee retires for the night, you pick up the letter your brother wrote you and carry it to the fireplace. You watch the flames lick over the paper, slowly dissolving it. As the fire burns the ink, you feel like it is actually burning bridges.
Your sleep is deep and dreamless.
……………………………….
You are endlessly grateful that you are dressed down for the fair. Well, dressed down by royal standards, at least. You are still embellished head to toe, but there are fewer layers, so when you sit in your carriage and wait for the Prince to join you so you can leave, you are much more comfortable than you were on your previous travel.
That morning, Eunhee is the only one getting you dressed. It is quiet in your chambers, but Eunhee’s hands are slow, movements staccatoed and rough. You wonder if something is on her mind, and when she laces you up wrong twice before getting it right, you finally speak to her.
“Tell me what is bothering you, Eunhee.”
Her hands pause briefly, but not brief enough for it to go unnoticed. When she inhales, you can see that it is shaky. Something is wrong.
“Eunhee.” You say again, voice softer this time, more open. Finally, she swallows tightly and speaks.
“Her Majesty the Queen called for me last night after I retired from Her Highness’ chambers.” She mumbles, so quietly that you almost don’t hear. You are alone in the large room, but it seems like she still fears being overheard. Her words catch your attention.
“Why so?” You ask.
“Her Majesty was- was asking about Her Highness and His Highness the Crown Prince. Her Majesty wanted to know of your….. relations.”
You feel like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on you. “She wanted to know if we consummated the marriage?”
Eunhee’s face turns beet red. She does not respond. You feel that anger again, the same anger that clouded your senses last night. The Queen is inquiring about your movements like you are some common criminal. As if any of this is your fault, and not her vile son’s.
“What did you say?”
Eunhee quickly shakes her head, not meeting your eyes, her face resolutely turned to the floor, but her voice has hardened. “I told Her Majesty nothing.”
You let out a trembling exhale. You had not expected Eunhee to be loyal to you. You barely know her. Yet, she risked earning the Queen’s displeasure to protect you, someone who still has no footing in this castle.
“Thank you.” You whisper. And you truly mean it. Eunhee’s eyes raise up to meet yours, and you notice for the first time the tiny wrinkles on the corners of her eyes.
“Her Highness was deeply wronged.” She states. You feel your throat tighten. A second passes, and then Eunhee bows her head again, closing her eyes.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
The interaction is heavy on your mind when you sit in the carriage. You know for a fact that Eunhee is right, you have been deeply wronged, and you had stewed in that very sentiment for days. But you had not expected anyone from this castle to understand that feeling. Your own brother tried to justify it, despite being the one person you felt you could trust above all else. It seems everyone within these four walls expected you to take your circumstances in stride. But this handmaid assigned to you could feel your pain, and that made your burden lift just slightly.
You are pulled from your thoughts when the carriage door opens and your Knight, Seungcheol, climbs in right opposite to you. You are surprised when he closes the door behind him, and within seconds, the carriage starts moving under you. You blink.
“Where is the Crown Prince?”
The Knight gestures. “In the carriage behind Her Highness and I.”
You’re surprised. Your next instinct is to ask why, but your voice dies in your throat. Your Knight doesn’t look at you, instead opting to look out of the window.
“Is this your doing?” You ask instead.
He lowers his head slightly, and that essentially confirms it. A small silence hangs between you two. Through the open window, the wind rustles through your hair.
“If I have misread Her Highness’ wishes, I’m sincerely regretful.” He says.
He won’t look at you, still. You grit your teeth.
“Please look me in the eye when you speak to me, Sir Choi.”
He seems caught off guard, but he immediately shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness.”
You tap your foot lightly on the ground, staring at the Knight dead on. “So you can make decisions on my behalf, but you cannot look at me when you speak?”
You can see the moment his jaw ticks, clenching. A tiny tendril of amusement curls in your chest as you watch him battle with himself. It feels good, catching him off guard like this. Finally, he meets your eye. The same blazing brown from last night, illuminated today by the rays of the sun the way they were by the fireplace yesterday. You can’t help but smile.
“Good.” You quip. “Thank you. And thank you for….. arranging separate carriages. You have not misread my wishes at all, Sir Choi.”
He nods, and you see the ghost of a smile cross his lips. They’re plump and pink, and you force yourself to not look at them.
“If Her Highness insists I meet her eyes, then I insist she not call me Sir Choi.”
His tone is softer than the no-nonsense one from yesterday. The tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth shows you that he carries at least some jest in his request. Your amusement swells a little.
“What do you prefer then? Seungcheol?”
Something in the amber burning in his eyes softens. “Yes.”
The collar of your dress feels unusually hot. You watch Seungcheol for a few more moments, finally turning away from the glint in his eyes when you feel like the weight of it is too much to carry. The wind is cool on your heated skin.
You don’t say a word more.
………………………………..
The carriage roof can be peeled all the way back, and as you get closer to the town, Seungcheol bangs the side of it until it slows and stops. Then, he pulls the roof until it collapses, leaving you in open air so the crowds can see you as you arrive. There are some adjustments, some voices, and you hear footsteps from behind you.
“The townspeople will talk if you arrive separately.” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. You nod.
Your husband climbs into the carriage and seats himself next to you. Opposite him, a man settles down beside Seungcheol. You recognise him as Jeonghan, the Prince’s advisor.
“Your Highness.” He greets jovially. “Honored to be in your presence again.”
You nod amicably and give him a soft smile. Your husband doesn’t speak a word, despite not having seen you since last night as well. You do not care. Any kindling of infatuation you have for him died the night you laid alone in your chambers while he slept with another woman. Maybe multiple. You do not have a morsel of interest in the man anymore.
Seungcheol bangs the side of the carriage again. The procession begins moving.
The fair is sensational. You can tell that the townsfolk went all out to the best of their ability, now cheering and clapping as you ride through them, waving. The path your carriage takes is decorated as well, lined with flower petals, and the pavilion where you sit in the Town Square is colorful. Of course, it lacks the grace of most castle decorations, but it has heart. One look at the streaming banners and flower arrangements tells you that it was decorated out of love and admiration, and not out of obligation. You prefer this vastly to the castle ornaments that often feel cold and distant.
You are excited as you sit on the large cushioned chair fashioned into a throne, the Prince on the seat beside yours. Seungcheol stands at your arm, one hand on the hilt of his blade. You wish he would relax a bit, especially as the archery contest begins, but you feel better that he is beside you. You know it is only because you are the Crown Prince’s wife, but Seungcheol’s respect feels…. genuine. Like it extends beyond just his duty. Because if it didn’t, he would not go out of his way to make sure your journey here was comfortable, separating you and the Prince into different carriages. You’re still unsure of how he pulled that off, but you assume the Knight who is Champion to the Princess might have some extra authority not awarded to anyone else.
You manage to have a wonderful time at the fare, meeting the commonfolk who hang on to your every word, the Town’s mayor, other town officials, and some prominent business owners. A lot of them give Seungcheol attention as well, greeting him enthusiastically after receiving wishes from you. When you give your Knight a questioning look, he returns it sheepishly.
“This is my hometown.” He explains.
Ah. You can almost feel it now that he has revealed this fact to you. There is certain warmth in the people here that reflects in him sometimes, when he is not being overly stoic. The kind of warmth you saw in him when you were in the carriage. While he has been hardened by the rigorous years of training for the Royal Guard, some part of him is still defined by where he comes from. You find that notion heartwarming.
There is no part of where you come from that you wish to carry with you, but you are a complete product of it, down to your very bones. You wonder what people see when they look at you from afar, or when they meet you up close. Is any facet of you interesting or admirable? Or is it only your stature as a Princess that they revere? Your title, and not your person?
When the sky gets a little dimmer, it is time for you to leave. Your chest feels heavy, and you almost want to stay longer. But as it always is, you must not dwell. There is no room to stop. You sit in separate carriages again, and Seungcheol tugs the roof of the carriage back into place so the wind doesn’t disturb you. You stare out the window, surroundings blurring as the horses pick up speed. Your insides are comfortably tender.
“I wish to come back here.” You declare, turning to look at the Knight sitting opposite to you. He meets your eye, just as you requested, and you feel like he’s listening, really truly taking in what you have to say instead of letting your words pass him by like everyone else does. He smiles, that gentle uptick of his lips. The long shadows of the golden sunset fall over his pale skin, and you are reminded of swirling letters of poetry on parchment.
“As Her Highness commands.”
When you smile, it’s the first genuine one in days.
……………………………..
You find out in the next few days that you do not see eye to eye with the Queen, your mother in law, at all. Granted, you discovered this when Eunhee confessed to you how the Queen wanted her to blab on you, but it has now become clear that the Queen is really, truly, unconcerned with your feelings.
On your fourteenth day in the castle, you are introduced to your ladies-in-waiting, hand picked by the Queen, and you quickly realise these women are not meant to cater to your likeness at all. They are nothing but reflections of what the Queen would like you to be. There are seven of them, and they all behave and carry themselves a certain way. A collection of Noblemen’s and aristocrats’ daughters all educated and trained within the walls of the castle. They sit with you during breakfast and accompany you as you tour the gardens that day. You have still not seen the majority of the castle, and these days, you are shown around by your Knight, Seungcheol, or your husband’s advisor, Jeonghan, when he rarely has the time. Jeonghan is quick witted and sharp, an absolute joy to have a conversation with. He toes the line between formality and informality, unlike Seungcheol, who always speaks to you with carefully chosen words. However, around Jeonghan, Seungcheol becomes slightly more loose-lipped, which is very amusing to you, and gives you a look into his personality more. You learn quickly that both of them are fast, childhood friends. Jeonghan loves to tease the man, and Seungcheol, despite all his composure, is quick to be affected by his friend’s jests.
“You shouldn’t wander off into the grounds with only your company, Princess.” Jeonghan says one day, his tone playful. “Seungcheol here would lose his head.”
Seungcheol balks and winces, glaring at Jeonghan, but the heat in it fades when you let out a delighted laugh.
“Oh, I’m sure that is not possible. He is at my door every morning when dawn breaks. I cannot step foot outside without him in tow.”
Seungcheol huffs but there is no heat behind it. “Do I hover, Your Highness?”
“You do.” You nod. Jeonghan laughs in that choppy, giggly way of his. You give him a subtle wink when Seungcheol is busy taking a deep, stabilising breath to stop himself from telling you both how it’s his ‘duty’ and that he ‘took an oath of fealty’. Jeonghan has already teased him about that speech. His lips tug up, pushing together, and you honestly believe that your Knight, Champion to the Princess, Commander of the Royal Guard’s largest garrison, is pouting.
When you turn your head to meet his eyes, you give him a playful smile.
“Don’t be petulant, Sir Choi.”
Jeonghan ‘oooh’s in a way that pulls another laugh out of you. Seungcheol is fighting back a smile.
Today, however, Jeonghan is not present as your ladies in waiting traipse through the flower gardens along the west wall with you. Seungcheol is there, as always, but a few feet behind all of you to maintain respect. The ladies are very chatty, which is good because you can just listen without contributing too much, but a few hours into the day, the buzz of conversation starts to numb your brain.
Mid-afternoon, you excuse yourself with a headache, trudging back to your chambers after they all bow to you and you dismiss them. The corridor to your doors is blissfully silent, and you sigh loudly.
“Too much for your taste, Your Highness?”
You huff but don’t look back at your Knight. “Very. I’m drained.”
He lets out an airy chuckle, and your lip ticks up at the sound.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Chief Advisor and I bother you just as much when we accompany you.”
You laugh. “Not at all. Your conversations are endlessly amusing. Stimulating. I enjoy spending time with you.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and he doesn’t say anything more, but you swear you hear a breath hitch. The clanking of his chainmail sounds with it, so you are unsure. You don’t dwell on the thought.
When you reach your chamber doors, Seungcheol holds them open for you. You linger at the threshold, looking up at him with an exasperated expression.
“Must I spend all my days with them?”
His face is painted with amusement, and he nods. “I’m afraid so. The only way to avoid them is if you have official events and meetings.”
You hum and purse your lips, dejected. Seungcheol’s face clouds a little, like he is in thought.
“I can stretch your schedule, if you like. To keep you busy.”
You make a face. You don’t much like royal commitments. They are often stuffy and overly performative. Both options seem tiresome, whether it is meetings, or free days with a gaggle of talkative girls. You have another thought.
“You will be with me during any schedule set for me?” You ask.
Seungcheol nods. “Of course, Princess.”
“And no one else?”
He pauses. “I’m not sure. It depends on the nature of the schedule.”
You nod slowly. “Only you. And Eunhee.”
Your statement catches him off guard. He stares at you for a few long seconds, before he realises what he is doing and blinks, breaking the contact and looking down.
“As you wish.” He mutters. His shoulders have curved in slightly. His ears are tinged pink. You smile and step inside.
Eunhee is waiting for you with tea. You give her a grateful smile before settling into your armchair. You have subconsciously claimed this one as your spot, and Eunhee has learned to arrange everything around it to your convenience. She places your cup delicately on the table.
“How was your first day with the ladies in waiting, Your Highness?”
You let out a painful sigh. “They are….. enthusiastic.”
Eunhee smiles as she cuts fruit. You watch her.
Ever since Eunhee swore loyalty to you, you have formed a bond with her that you haven’t had with anyone for a long time. You had dismissed Hana immediately after Eunhee told you who she was, and you had asked Seungcheol to completely pack Eunhee’s day from top to bottom with tasks, on her request, so she could remain hidden either in your chambers, or with the seamstresses, or in the kitchens, away from the Queen’s eyes, so she may not sink her claws into Eunhee again. That had resulted in long stretches of time where it was just her and you.
You learn that Eunhee is married, and her husband is a soldier for the Royal Guard, a man named Soonyoung who is part of the garrison that Seungcheol leads. She got married merely a year before you, and the reason she was chosen as your personal maid was that she came heavily recommended by Jeonghan, who is wonderful friends with Soonyoung and has known Eunhee for a while.
“My mother worked for the Chief Advisor’s mother.” Eunhee explained to you. “The lady watched me grow up and trained within the castle walls. She and the Chief Advisor both believed I was best suited for your needs.”
“I’m glad.” You had said. “You are…. all I have, Eunhee.”
Her returning look had been forlorn.
“You have Sir Choi too, Your Highness.” She said. “He is loyal to you.”
You gave her a bitter smile. “He is loyal to the Crown.”
She shook her head immediately. “He is loyal to your Crown. He received favor from Your Highness, not the King. He serves you, not anyone else.”
When you didn’t reply, she just smiled.
“You will see, Princess.”
Eunhee’s words, her promise, stays with you in the days after that conversation, and it makes everything more noticeable. You feel Seungcheol’s care in little actions, your schedule explained to you beforehand and tweaked to cater every request, his physical presence, constantly behind you by five paces, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who interacts with you. When someone steps too close, he steps in, one arm extended to maintain distance between yourself and anyone else. And he makes exceptions for no one. Anything you want is arranged the second it falls from your lips, even if it’s a request as small as more comfortable seating, or as large as rearranging castle staff to whoever your liking suits. Seungcheol is with you, as said, from the moment the sun rises to the moment the moon is high in the sky and you retire to your bed. He does not leave until Eunhee leaves, and the guards outside your doors are meticulously picked and stationed by him.
“Your life and safety are my biggest priority.” He always says, a phrase that is said so resolutely, you would think it is seared into his brain. You don’t question it, because he leaves no room for doubt.
Eunhee’s words remain. They always remain. Like a balm on your injured, broken heart.
You think of your husband in fleeting thoughts. During Court, you sit by his side, the perfect new couple who will eventually take the throne and give the nation their next heir. The Court Advisors, Councillors and Noblemen have warmed up to you well enough, but of course, the Crown Prince is their main focus. You are nothing but his wife, at this point. An extension of him. A poorly kept, ignored, discarded extension.
He barely steps into your shared chambers. He barely exchanges words with you. You see Hana sometimes, and she bows weakly. She meets your eyes. Her necklace is gold, her perfume is disrespectfully strong. There are others. A councillor’s daughter. A nobleman’s. A royal guard’s. Eunhee tells you, repeatedly, that they are beneath you, but you conclude that it hurts worse that way, to be humiliated by those who are and will never be your equal, but are preferred by your own husband over you.
You are unable to explain to anyone how painful it is to feel your soul crack at its very foundations.
Seungcheol comes to you in the morning with an appointment that fills your heart with dread.
“There is a visiting envoy of foreign noblewomen arriving at the castle gates in four hours.” He says from where he sits in front of your fireplace, a few pieces of lengthy parchment in his hands that he is poring over. You stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror, watching yourself as Eunhee straightens your skirts, smoothing the wrinkles and adjusting the layers. It’s a grander dress than your usual attire, given the visitors entering the castle soon. You listen to Seungcheol tell you all the details quietly.
“Originally, Her Majesty the Queen was going to handle it herself, but this morning she specifically stated that your presence is mandatory as the new bride.”
You scoff, an undignified sound you would only dare let out in front of your handmaid and your Knight. “I have been living in this castle for four months. I’m hardly a new bride.”
“You are new to the visitors, Princess.” Seungcheol explains, ever patient with you. “The last time they were here, you were not married.”
You just grit your jaw tightly and don’t reply. You try to avoid the Queen unless it’s during Court or audiences. There too, you sit in silence and focus more on others than her. You know she is not particularly fond of you because you have not taken your husband’s lifestyle in stride. Many times, you have overheard her talk loudly to her ladies-in-waiting, claiming that you are arrogant and disobedient, and think too highly of yourself to be acting like you are.
“Men will always require more attention than one woman can give.” She would sneer. “It’s in their nature. She should be grateful that others are taking her load and providing their services.”
“Quite right, Your Majesty.” A lady in her entourage would quip, one who is many years the Queen’s junior, and very famously one of the King’s concubines. Even the thought that the Queen has kept one of her husband’s mistresses as her lady-in-waiting is appalling to you, but you know you are alone in these feelings. Within these castle walls, this is normal. Being chosen by royal blood for nightly attendances is considered the highest honor for these women, and they vie for the men’s interest. The very notion makes you sick to your stomach. You can never be like them. It would kill you.
You draw in a long, steadying breath at the thought of joining the Queen for today. You know that the whole day you will be weighed heavy with passive aggression and rude remarks. Not only does the Queen not forbid her ladies from being disrespectful to you, she actively encourages it. As you think about what awaits you as you walk down from your chambers, Seungcheol watches you closely.
“I know it will be difficult.” He mumbles. “I’m sincerely apologetic, Princess. I tried to schedule you for another commitment, but even I cannot raise a voice louder than the Queen.”
You wave his apology away. “Don’t fret, Seungcheol. Sometimes you have to face the music. Today is just that day for me.”
He shakes his head, never allowing himself to fall in step with you. At the bottom of the stairs, you turn to give him a smile. “I’m only upset you won’t be with me today.”
Seungcheol meets your eyes briefly, letting out a small chuckle and looking away. He still can’t look at you directly for more than a few seconds still, especially not somewhere that other people can see.
“Anytime you need me, just send for me.” He says, like it’s a placation. It is. You nod and smile.
It goes worse than you ever could have imagined.
The envoy is filled with older women who have known your mother in law for a long time. You are introduced to all of them with a certain distasteful tone in the Queen’s voice, and are bombarded with a flurry of questions, the most common one being why on earth you are not with child yet. You bite your lip on all of them, throughout the feast, the tour of the castle grounds afterwards, then tea. You listen to them gossip and giggle, and since you’re the new attraction, most jabs end up aimed at you. Catty and sharp, like knives, and they all take their liberties further when they see that the Queen is egging them on.
You’re exhausted.
“Straighten up.” The Queen says sharply from next to you as you stand in the castle gardens towards the north gate. You stiffen your body immediately, but she still seems unsatisfied.
“You have been cold and rude to our guests all day.” She states. “Is this how you’ve been raised? Some royalty you are. I should’ve known your ragged family would raise a petulant, disrespectful girl.”
Your mouth tightens. You don’t say anything. She sneers audibly.
“Be under no illusions, girl. There are many who can give this throne an heir. It doesn’t have to be you. You’re disposable to everyone in this castle.”
She shifts her attention back to the happenings around you. You feel like your ears are ringing.
It is after the dinner feast that you are finally excused from your duties. You trudge slowly back to your chambers. Your posture is still stiff and pulled up, like you’re marching through Court with hundreds of eyes on you. Your muscles are pulled taut, and your ears are still ringing. Something has formed a knot at the apex of your throat, and it has not loosened for many hours.
“Your Highness.” You hear his voice from behind you, and your steps halt. You hear the heavy thud of his leather boots on the stone floors. He stops next to you. You don’t look at him.
“Princess.” His voice has lowered, and it is tinged with caution when you don’t respond. “You are distressed.”
It is not a question, but rather a statement. He has been with you every day for months. So he knows. There is no doubt.
“I am weary, Seungcheol.” You whisper. You hear your voice waver. Your stare is blank and distant.
You feel a hand then, strong and sure, on your back, between your shoulder blades. A gentle nudge makes your feet move again, and slowly, you walk down the long hall that leads to your chambers.
You don’t know how you end up in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It’s already roaring, ready, and you try to make your muscles melt into the cushion. But they won’t cooperate, tight and unmoving. Hours of being on alarm has left you rock solid.
“I will send for Eunhee.” Seungcheol says after you’ve seated yourself. Before he can move away, your hand shoots up, gripping his wrist tightly.
“Don’t leave.” Your voice is frailer than you would like it to be, but you can no longer fake being strong after so many hours of doing so. Seungcheol looks shocked, eyes shooting to where your hand holds his arm. You take it away, but you give him a pleading look. Immediately, he nods, lowering himself to one knee on the floor near your feet.
For a few long moments, there is only silence. Then, you take a shaky breath.
“Most days I feel like I’m floating.” You say. “Untethered and weightless.
Like my presence holds no bearing in these walls.”
Seungcheol doesn’t speak.
“I mean nothing.” You continue. “I have meant nothing my entire life. I was a second-born daughter to a throne that already had its heir. Now I am married into a family where women are objects for their men’s whims and an indulgence for their bad habits.”
You look at your Knight, down on one knee before you. He watches you openly, his eyes soft, a warm brown you can lose yourself in.
“What is my worth, Seungcheol?” You muse, pressure building behind your eyes. “What do I mean to anyone here?”
You can see when Seungcheol’s lips part. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He takes his time, like he is searching for words.
“My mother was a lady-in-waiting for Her Majesty the Queen.” He states.
You blink, shocked. He nods, as if to reaffirm the sentence.
“She was selected before the then Princess was even married into the royal family, and introduced to the Princess one week after her arrival here. Three of the ladies-in-waiting for the Princess were the then Prince’s mistresses.”
“The Queen knew even before she was married how things worked within these walls. She knew her husband had mistresses, and her only goal as soon as she arrived at the castle was to bear unto him an heir. She felt that it was the one thing that would give her more value than any other woman in her husband’s bed. The thing that would separate her from them.”
You listen in dead silence.
“My mother watched all this.” He says. “She watched the Queen take any measure to gain her husband’s attention. The minute she knew she was with child, her husband mattered to her no more. She earned respect within these walls because she was carrying his blood. She established herself as that only, the mother of the heir. Not the Queen. Not the bearer of the Crown. Her pride came from her son.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What are you implying, Seungcheol?”
Your Knight blinks, then smiles. But it is sad, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I imply nothing, Princess. I am merely explaining that the Queen is so harsh with you because you are everything she wasn’t. And that scares her. She fears what she does not know and cannot predict.”
He lowers his head and continues speaking. “You may feel weightless and inconsequential. But there is strength behind your refusal to cater to the Prince. You have made a statement that you won’t let yourself be degraded like she was her entire life. Your lack of submission makes her furious. She thinks her reminders of your disposability will break you.”
When he lifts his head again, his eyes have hardened just slightly with a fire that pierces your heart. “You must not break, Your Highness.”
You stare at him for a long time. The resolute jut of his jaw, the way his eyes lock on you for this prolonged period of time, something he has never done before. The shadows from the fireplace dance over his face, but they don’t undercut the determination in his expression.
“Why?” You whisper in the quiet of the room. “Why are you so loyal to me, Seungcheol? You do not know me. You know the people in this castle. I am a mere outsider.”
He shakes his head, still not looking away. His gaze is like a comfortable weight around your shoulders.
“My mother told me about the Queen to prepare me for how you would be as well.” He speaks quietly. “I went into your service fully expecting you to be complacent to this system. But you weren’t.”
Seungcheol slowly lowers himself from one knee to both. Your breath hitches. He’s kneeling on both knees, the ultimate form of devotion to a royal.
“You were headstrong and unwilling to give in to whatever demands were imposed on you.” His eyes flicker and dim. “I am ashamed to admit that I assumed you would be like the princess before you. But you resisted, and you set boundaries. You refused to give yourself to a man who didn’t share your values. That is endlessly admirable to me, Your Highness. You are endlessly admirable to me.”
He breaks your gaze then, and lowers his head slowly. You feel his forehead brush just over the fabric on your knee.
“A spirit like yours is unlike any that are housed in these four walls. And it is my duty to keep it alive. I’m devoted to you and you only, and receiving your favor was the way I could ensure I would be your personal Guard. I fought in that joust tooth and nail after I heard of your supposed refusal to cater to the Prince. I wanted to be in service to you. If I was to give duty to this Crown, I only wanted it to be yours.”
You watch Seungcheol with bated breath, like inhaling or exhaling could break the air around you. You want nothing to disturb this moment. Your chest feels full. That knot in your throat is gone. You are left only with the warmth of the fireplace, and the sizzle on your knee where Seungcheol’s forehead presses to it, his head lowered and his hair lightly brushing the velvet of your dress.
You think of the Queen’s words. ‘You are disposable to everyone in this castle’, and then you look at the man kneeling before you, his forehead pressed to your leg, his broad frame curled on himself. The weightless feeling in your heart feels a tug, like someone is pulling it down, grounding it, making it feel like you have substance.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 11.6k
warnings (for this chapter): arranged marriage, lying and betrayal, angst, feelings of inadequacy, low self worth, mentions of concubines, fight scenes, no serious bodily harm tho, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, hurt/little comfort.
series masterlist
When you first see your wedding gown, it takes your breath away.
It’s a deep blue, satin material with sprawling golden embellishments accenting every edge. All the details are hand-embroidered; you are aware that the seamstresses have been working on this dress for many months, and their hard work shows. Your feet tremble slightly as you step into the dress, the material petal-soft on your skin. You had spent all of last week being pampered to the extreme by your maids, so your skin is supple and perfumed, primed for perfection. Your head seamstress and two of your maids lace up the corseted bodice until it fits snugly against you. You lower your arms, trailing, fitted sleeves of the same beautiful satin material, and watch yourself in the mirror. Your heart beats faster than usual. It has been slowly picking up speed leading up to the wedding, and now it is nearly bursting from your chest.
Hope curdles in the depths of your heart. Hope for a new start, a happy life, a peaceful existence.
Your maids flit around, adjusting your hair and the tiny gold ornaments on your neck, your ears, your wrists. Of all your days as a princess, it is ironic that it is your last day in this castle that you look truly the most beautiful you ever have. You don’t care as much for your appearances as most royals would, but even you are moved by your reflection in the mirror today.
There is a knock on the door before it hesitantly opens. A broad shoulder and a head pokes inside, and you turn slightly to meet shocked eyes.
“Mingyu.” You smile, eyeing how smart your brother looks in his full uniform, the ceremonial outfit fitted to his large frame perfectly. He steps inside and quickly closes the door behind him, a smile breaking on his face as he watches you. Your maids add final touches, smoothing wrinkles in the many layers of the skirt.
“You look so beautiful.” He compliments. You return his grin.
Your older brother, next in line for your family’s throne, might be the only person within these four walls that you will miss when you leave. Because he is the only person in this castle who hasn’t made you feel entirely insignificant. Your own mother, the Queen, not coming to see you on the morning of your wedding day is indication enough of how little value you have in the eyes of everyone you live with.
But no matter. You will leave tonight for a new home, a royal family that actually wants you in their midst, who asked for your hand with reverence and anticipation. This hollow feeling in your chest has numbered hours left to live, and already, the tendrils of hope are wrapped around your heart, ready to strangle it and banish it completely from you.
Mingyu stays with you for a bit as your maids finish up. Then, he raises a hand and dismisses them, telling them to be back shortly. They flit out without a word, bowing respectfully to the heir as they leave. The door shuts behind them with a soft click.
“How are you feeling?” Mingyu asks. You nod.
“Very good. I’m excited.”
When Mingyu smiles this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Remember, you will leave tonight for a new home, but you will always have me when you need me. Write to me, okay?”
You turn as much as your heavy dress and long train will allow. Mingyu might be the only person who is even slightly bothered by your leaving. For everyone else, you were a temporary fixture since the moment you came into this world, the second-born after the birth of a son, that too a daughter. You had no value from the minute you left your mother’s womb. Not until today.
Mingyu is very careful as he steps close to you, as close as the dress will allow. He lets his hand brush very gently over your hair.
“You will make a wonderful Queen.”
Your eyes water. You blink the tears away before they can spill.
The wedding ceremony is lavish, grand. Despite Mingyu being older, yours is the first wedding between the two of you. The people of your land have something to celebrate, an opportunity not too heavily available to them. You’ve heard that your neighbouring nation, the one you are marrying into, is a lot more prosperous. The thought excites you. Eventually, with time, you will be Queen, and you are very interested in knowing of all the dealings of the land you will govern.
Your veil is tulle, long and embroidered so you can hardly see through it. You keep your gaze low, heart beating fast throughout the entire ceremony. You cannot see the man you’re marrying, but you can feel him next to you, your now husband, Seojoon, heir to his own land’s throne, only child of the sitting King. You’ve met him once before, immediately after your engagement a couple of years ago. He had a quieter disposition, but he carried himself with authority even then. His voice was booming and sharp, hair closely cropped and jet black. He was handsome, in a conventional sense.
You had spoken only briefly over tea, and it had been a bout of stilted conversation. You had been too jumpy and nervous, so you decided to not speak too much for fear of saying something unbecoming. You wanted to write him letters in the time after that leading up to the wedding, but your mother thought it ‘improper’ and shut it down. It’s fine. You have a whole lifetime to get to know him.
You go through the wedding with a pounding heart, every movement precise from many, many rounds of rehearsals. When your veil is finally removed after the ceremony and right before the feast, you feel like it uncovers you with a promise. A new life, a new chapter. Your hope, curling in your heart like thin tendrils, is solidifying as the time passes. You enjoy your last meal in the castle, because you know your carriages are waiting outside, ready to take you away from this horrible place.
You are seen off among lots of flourish. Your personal maid, who has been with you for many years, is openly weeping, though she is trying her hardest to not sob audibly. She kisses your hand before you mount your carriage. Even Mingyu, the strongest person you know, has damp eyes. It surprises you, but then you remember that you will likely not see Mingyu for a long time. You feel gloom tickle your heart when he gives you a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Write to me. Please.” He says again. The same thing he said before the wedding. This time, there is a slight urgency in his voice. You pull back just enough to look at him, taken aback by his tone. But he gives you a bright smile, ushering you forward before you have any room to question it.
“Go. Don’t keep them waiting.”
You don’t have time to dwell on it. The carriage in front of yours houses the King and Queen of your new nation, your husband’s parents. They are waiting for your goodbyes to end, and so you nod, taking Mingyu’s arm so he can assist you up and into the carriage where Seojoon already sits among others.
As the horses move and the wheels turn to carry you away, you give one last look to the procession that bids you farewell. Neither your mother nor your father are part of it. They didn’t even bother to come to the castle gates. For the first time in a long time, their dismissal of you doesn’t sting. This is the last time. You will never have to feel so discarded, so rejected, ever again.
You turn away from the window when the scenery starts blurring more as the horses pick up speed. You look around the cabin where you sit. Seojoon is next to you, peering out of the opposite window. In front of you sits a small woman with a frail frame, slightly older and with a thinly lined face, dressed in a plain frock and flat, brown shoes. You know her. It’s Eunhee, your new maid, who will be with you every hour of your waking moments going forward. You’d been introduced to her briefly before, and you know she was handpicked by the Queen, your mother in law, so you trust Eunhee completely.
Sitting next to her, opposite to Seojoon, is a man in uniform. He’s not in armor, but his uniform jacket is sturdy, and adorned with medals and pins showing his achievements. His hair is dark like the wet earth, parted down the middle, pale skin, strong jaw, straight nose, steel eyes. His posture is stoic and rigid, maybe even more so than royals. There’s a sheathed sword leaning against the cushion he is sitting on, right by his thigh. You look at the badges on his shoulders. A Knight.
He must feel your eyes on him, because his own turn to meet yours for a brief second. You blink and turn away, embarrassed about being caught. When you chance a glance at him again, he’s looking resolutely forward again.
No one in the carriage speaks, so you opt to stay silent as well. It has been a long, arduous day. You’re sure they are all tired. You rest your head on the cushion behind your head and close your eyes. You have many days of travel ahead, so you should try to rest whenever you can.
……………………………….
The weather is favorable, so you arrive at your new home earlier than anticipated.
You are bone-tired, not used to long days of travel. The dress that one had changed into after your ceremony is not as glamorous as your wedding dress, but it is in no way simple. The skirts are immense, and the corset is digging into you. Any dress you change into on the road is the same, overly adorned and complicated, as are worn by a new bride. Eunhee is there to lace you up every morning before you mount the carriage. Then comes hours of discomfort, until you are dressed down before sleeping for the night. By the time you reach the castle, you are near tears.
But there are expectations from the new Princess. And you must not disappoint.
A large procession waits for you at the castle gates, ready to welcome you. Throughout it, you keep a pleasant smile on your face as you have been trained to do your entire life. People bow to you, introduce themselves, hundreds of names and titles of noblemen and castle clergy that you will definitely forget. After entering the grand hallway of the castle, the Queen turns to you.
“Go with Eunhee and get ready.” She says, primly. “There will be a welcome feast soon.”
You are bone-tired, but you only nod mutely.
You don’t have the mental presence anymore to log any of your movements, so you let Eunhee and a procession of unknown women guide you through wide, stone corridors and up many, many steps. At the end of one long hallway are grand, oak doors, where two guards stand on attention. They are pushed open to reveal a sprawling room, a large poster bed with maroon drapings on the far wall, a roaring fireplace to your left, surrounded by cushy sofas and armchairs, and large rugs covering the floor. On the far wall is also a door leading to a balcony, and to the right is a door that you are guessing leads to a private bath and changing area.
It’s beautiful, and before you can properly admire your new chambers, Eunhee is gently escorting you towards a large mirror on the wall to your right. A dress is hanging next to it, maroon with gold accents, the official colors of this royal dynasty.
Three other women follow Eunhee’s lead as they slowly undo your dress to replace your new one. Your skin is marred with dark, angry marks from the corset. You wince as it comes off, and Eunhee softens her movements.
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.” Her voice is so mild. Calming. You shake your head.
“Never you mind, Eunhee. I’m used to this.”
The girl next to Eunhee, who is gathering the skirt so it won’t wrinkle, speaks up. “Yes. This is all part of the duty.”
The maids freeze. You look at the girl curiously as she works. She doesn’t seem to notice the others shifting uncomfortably around her for speaking out of turn, and not using your title. You notice that she is young, maybe the same age as you, a few years younger than Eunhee, and her frock is….. tighter. Lower cut on the neckline. Her hair is looser instead of the neat buns everyone else is wearing. And she has a small bracelet on, a thin chain, but not something any maid should be wearing at all.
She makes you uneasy.
No one speaks, working quietly to slip you into your new dress. The lacing up feels agonising, and you try to take as many deep gulps of air as you can before you are again not able to breathe once it tightens. You talk yourself mentally through the process of the dinner ahead, and then, finally, you are stepping out of the room again.
The feast is packed with any and everyone who is important to the castle. Courtiers, councillors, noblemen, lords and knights. Then there is the King, the Queen, her ladies in waiting, your husband, the Crown Prince, and you, the new Crown Princess. You try to be as present and warm as you can, determined to make a good first impression despite how exhausted you are. This is your new life, these people will soon be very familiar and essential to your role in this castle. You must get along with all of them, to establish yourself. This is a new start. The days of being swatted away like a fly are over.
It takes hours, and the feast finally dies down. You and Seojoon are both dismissed, and you walk back to your chambers together. Eunhee and the Knight from before are a few steps behind you. Your heart beats a little faster. It’s late in the night, the first night you will spend with your husband. You know what will happen, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves creep up your limbs.
Once inside, Eunhee quickly de-robes you. You thank her quietly with a small smile, and her returning one is more of a wince than anything else. Her eyes look sad, dim. You wonder if she is as tired as you are, and that’s why she appears so upset.
“I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She says, voice frail.
You shake your head. “No need, Eunhee. You can leave for the night.”
She hesitates. “I will be right outside, Your Highness.” She repeats.
You don’t know what to say. Are customs different here for handmaidens? Must they wait outside all night? You assumed only a guard would. You opt to stay silent, letting Eunhee do what she thinks is best. She grew up in this castle after all, so she knows better.
You change into a softer silk gown, with a lace trim that makes your face flame up. Eunhee leaves and you enter your chambers again. Seojoon is standing in front of the fireplace, still fully dressed in his ceremonial outfit. You wonder if he will change, but then another thought enters your head. Maybe he just wants to disrobe directly. Your face heats.
He has a glass of wine in his hand. You fidget, unsure of if you should sit on the bed. You stand by it awkwardly and watch him. No one speaks while he drinks. He doesn’t even look at you. He finishes the glass quickly before setting it on the table. Then, he walks to the doors.
“I will see you in the morning.” He states, still not sparing you a glance. His voice is flat and a little tired.
You blink, shocked. Before you can ask him anything, before you can even think to protest, the heavy door swings open and he leaves in one quick step. You are left standing alone in the vast room, the only movement coming from the flames in the fireplace.
There’s a soft knock that you almost don’t hear if it weren’t for the silence in the room. Eunhee steps in very slowly. She has the same forlorn look on her face from before, and you realise that she knows something. Something she wanted to say when she was undressing you but didn’t. Something that made it necessary for her to stay outside and not retire for the night. She knew he wouldn’t be staying. She knew the reason.
“Why?” You ask, voice shaky already. There’s a feeling blooming in your chest, a sense of despair and dread previously unknown to you. Eunhee hesitates, like the very thought of answering your question pains her. She moves quickly to the tray sitting on the table next to the fireplace, pouring a glass of water for you and carrying it to the table by your bedside. She uses gentle hands to coax you to sit, and you sink into the soft mattress at the very edge. Then, she kneels on her knees right beside your legs, and peers up at you.
“Her Majesty the Queen told me you weren’t informed.” She says. “Of the Prince’s relations.”
Relations? You stare at Eunhee, unmoving. The silence in the room is pin-drop. You wait for her to keep speaking. You see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.
“The Prince indulges in…. mistresses.”
Your gaze doesn’t waver. Not a single muscle shifts. Eunhee seems to balk under your gaze.
“I am unaware of why this was kept from you, Your Highness. I assumed you would know, since the King has had concubines as well, his entire adult life. It is customary to Royals here. I was told just this very evening by Her Majesty to stay with you as you do not know. And to explain it to you.”
Your eyes wander from your handmaid, fixing on the far wall instead. The grey is solid, sturdy, but it swims in your vision. You feel the slightest of tugs, and you realise that Eunhee is clutching the hem of your robe.
“But you are his wife! Lawfully wedded. Your son will be the heir to his throne. Those concubines are mere distractions. You do not fret over them-”
“She was one of them.” You barely recognise your own voice. Detached, chilled. Eunhee immediately stops talking, so you continue.
“The maid from before. The young one who spoke out of turn. She was one of them.”
Eunhee hesitates before nodding. “Her name is Hana. She’s….. his favorite.”
You feel bile rise up in your throat. You kick your foot, disengaging Eunhee’s grip on your dress.
“Leave.”
She watches you with slight trepidation. Her hands clench and unclench. “Princess-”
“Get out.”
Your tone leaves no room for question. Eunhee promptly stands and rushes out, closing the door quietly behind her. You still stare at the wall, so grey, and as you watch, you feel like you are as grey and bleak as the walls that surround you.
………………………..
From a young age, the biggest lesson you learned as a princess who was to eventually be wed into another royal family was to never dwell.
At any point, there is too much to be done, duties to uphold, reputations to maintain, stature to solidify and alliances to form. Never can you dawdle or meander. Everything must keep flowing seamlessly from one obligation to another. Such is also the law of nature. At the end of every day, the sun sets. The earth turns one full rotation on its axis, signaling the beginning of another morning. And these processes continue stubbornly on the same timeline, no matter what. The stars do not care that your world is falling apart. The moon is unaware of the life draining from your eyes.
The morning after your arrival at the castle, on your first day of being their Crown Princess, you wake to Eunhee’s gentle voice. She bathes you, perfumes your body, helps you get dressed along with two other maids. The younger one from yesterday is notably absent. You want to believe it is because of Eunhee, and not because she spent the night with your husband.
That same nauseous feeling in your stomach threatens to rise all the way to your throat. You swallow it down.
Breakfast is grand, more than normal meals would usually be, you suspect. Celebrations will go on for days, if not weeks. You were prepared for them beforehand. You even felt excited, because in your mind, you would be attending them with your husband, enjoying everything by his side as you slowly got integrated in his life and in his heart.
He is by your side today just as you anticipated, but he feels a million miles away. Your sorrow, sizzling under the surface of your skin, is marinating, feeding on every interaction between you two. He barely looks at you, barely speaks to you. He says standing next to you in morning court, he seats himself right beside you during breakfast. He leads you to your seat in the colorful pavilion as you move from the castle to the jousting field right outside the castle walls. But he never spares you a glance. He never speaks a word to you. He is miles away, and you’re left alone and cold.
The King and Queen have arranged for a wedding joust in honor of you, the new bride. A fight that will decide which Knight will receive your favor. Wooden barriers encircle the enormous jousting field, lined with benches for audience viewing. The crowd is packed with courtiers, townsfolk and foreign envoys. Above them rises a tall pole with a maroon flag bearing the royal family emblem. The royal viewing platform is in the center of the right side lining the field, a raised area where you sit in large seats with the Prince, the King and the Queen. You fiddle with your dress as Eunhee smooths it. You dismiss her when she’s done, and she steps off the platform to a bench on the side. You turn your attention to the field.
It is vast, and the crowds are restless, talking cheerfully amongst themselves. On either end, to your right and left, are two horses surrounded by teams of men flitting about, getting them ready. Two Knights stand with the horses, tightening the armored plates on their bodies, preparing for the joust. You look at the man on the right, recognising him as the Knight you traveled with on the way to the castle, the pale, stiff one.
Movement catches the side of your eyes, and you turn your head. A man has walked up to the platform, giving you a small smile and bowing deeply. He is tall, with long, dark hair that is swept off his face, and sharp, calculating eyes.
“Your Highness. Welcome.” His voice is soft and pleasant, almost melodic. “I’m sure it will be tough to recall. Yoon Jeonghan, I'm the advisor to the Crown Prince.”
Right. You had an inkling that the man looked familiar. You were probably introduced to him last night, but there were so many faces that you barely remember them now. You nod and give him a pleasant smile.
“We are honored to have you with us today. This stage has been set for the knights to earn your favor. Both the participating Knights are two of our finest, and their victory is symbolic as well as functional.” He explains. You listen closely.
“They will fight for your favor. The Knight who wins today will be given the title ‘Champion of the Princess’, and awarded a ceremonial band to be attached to the arm of his uniform.”
At this, Jeonghan waves his hand, and an attendant steps forward holding a maroon velvet cushion. Sitting on it is a wide band adorned with the royal family emblem embroidered in gold thread. You nod, understanding your role in today’s proceedings.
Jeonghan nods pleasantly before moving to the Prince, the King and the Queen, he asks their permission to begin, approaching the King last, as his word will be the final say. Then, he dismounts from the platform. You watch him walk swiftly away.
Both Knights slide on their helmets and mount their horses. You fold your hands in your lap, happy that the joust is beginning. You’ve realised that staying unoccupied is your biggest enemy. Your mind wanders, and you are reminded of your reality in heartbreaking detail. It is very difficult to reconcile with the fact that you are as unwanted and discarded here, as you were in the castle you grew up in.
The mold you wanted to break away from is one that will follow you no matter where you go, you have realised. You will be trapped in it for your entire existence.
You focus on the fight, the sounds of the lances meeting each other, the highs and lows of the crowd, the beating of horse hooves on the solid ground. Both Knights give it their all, armor clanging with every blow, making your heart jolt along with it. Points rack up, but at the very climax of the fight, one Knight manages to de-seat the other, ramming a shoulder into his opponent and sending him hurtling to the ground. The horn sounds. The cheers reach a deafening pitch. The joust is over. He has won.
It is among the cheers that the winning Knight makes his way to the raised platform where you are seated. He bows on the first step of the stairs, and you rise from your chair. The crowd quiets. At your gesture, he starts climbing the stairs to where you are. Right before you, he kneels on one knee, head bowed. Slowly, he pulls his helmet off.
It’s him, the Knight from before.
He places his helmet before his foot. He stays kneeling. His face is covered in sweat and slightly flushed from the exertion. His breaths are heavier than normal. Some strands of his dark hair stick to his temples. His eyes stay trained on your feet.
The trumpets sound again and the Herald steps forward.
“By valor shown and points well won, Sir Choi Seungcheol is declared victor, and Champion of Her Highness the Princess!”
The crowd cheers, giving him a round of applause. The drums roll. When you raise your hand for the embroidered band, the crowd falls into a hush again, watching. You pick the cloth up, surprised by its weight despite how frail it looks. The Knight extends his arm, fist closed, and you drape the cloth over his bicep. A squire steps forward, securing it over his armor, a visible show of his devotion to the Crown.
The Knight reaches his hand forward, palm up, and carefully, you place your hand in his gloved one. The leather feels coarse but warm against your skin. He leans forward in one smooth movement, and you feel his lips press over your bare knuckles. It’s the lightest brush, his eyelids close as he does. You feel the pinpoint where his lips touch your skin, soft, reverent. When he opens his eyes again, he still doesn’t look at you, gaze on your feet the entire time. But his posture is not as rigid as it was previously. He has almost softened himself, his body curved forward a little. Submission. Devotion.
Your heart skips for a fraction of a second. He lets go of your hand and stands.
The drums start a new beat, a celebratory one. The crowd cheers. The Knight gives one final bow before descending the stairs. You watch his back for a few seconds before you return to your seat. For a brief moment, it felt like your world shrank. But now, as you clue into everything around you again, the cold, hollow despair from before settles into your chest again.
Your temporary reprieve disappears.
…………………………………..
Mingyu’s first letter finds you that very evening.
You’re surprised he wrote to you so soon after your departure, but you’re relieved to hear from someone who is not a complete stranger to you. As you wind down from the night, seated on an armchair in front of the fireplace as Eunhee pours lemon tea in a cup for you, you read your brother’s neat scrawl. The farther down your eyes go, the more your heart pounds and your mind races. Once you’re done, you let the letter rest on your lap, staring at nothing as you process.
Mingyu knew.
Suddenly, it all makes sense. The worry in his voice when he assured you that he was with you whenever you needed him. The urgency in his tone when he told you to write to him as much as you could. He knew who you were marrying, what his extracurricular activities were. If he knew, then that means your parents definitely knew too. And yet, they married you to him anyway.
Mingyu’s letter states that trade agreements and peace treaties between your nations were hanging in the balance when this marriage was proposed, and with how poorly their people were already doing, this was a deal they couldn’t pass up. As future King and heir to the throne, Mingyu was privy to all these details while you were not. You almost want to laugh. Of course you did not know. Why would anyone bother telling you that your marriage is nothing but a contract? You don’t matter. You are secondary to all other moving parts in this union. A pawn in everyone else’s game of chess.
You almost want to slap yourself for how stupid you have been. To hope that this family wanted to marry you for you, because they heard of the Princess and desired her for their son. It was the first time in your life that you felt like you had worth. But you were wrong, ridiculously naïve. Your value is nothing but political. You…. you are nothing. You have always been nothing. Your brother has confirmed it.
There is only despair. There is no other feeling.
Eunhee seems to notice your change in energy. She hesitates, placing the cup on a small table right by your armrest. The tea lets out soft billows of steam. You watch it.
Eunhee sits next to the table in silence that is deafening. The letter in your lap lays there, under the weight of your hands. You do not have the strength to make anything of the jumbled mess in your head, so you just stare blankly. The Prince, your husband, had not even bothered to accompany you to your chamber like yesterday night. You had not seen him since dinner.
There’s a knock on your door that startles you from your thoughts. Eunhee gets up to answer it. You fold the letter still in your hands, trying to ignore how badly your hands are shaking and placing it on the table next to your cup.
“Champion of His Highness, Sir Choi Seungcheol requests an audience.” Eunhee says.
You blink, surprised. You were anticipating a meeting with your Knight shortly, but not the exact day he received your favor. You nod anyway, and Eunhee promptly turns to open the door. You watch the Knight step in.
He has changed out of his armor. He's wearing a doublet; a padded jacket fitted snugly to his figure, in rich maroon color bearing a coat of arms and rows of gold medals in lines on his breast plate, leg coverings and leather boots. On his hip rests a sheathed sword. Despite the absence of his heavy armor plates, he is broad shouldered and sturdy. He bows deeply.
“My sincerest apologies for disturbing you, Your Highness.” He speaks. It’s the first time you have heard him utter words. His voice is gravelly and deep, but low and undisturbing. You wave off the apology.
“No matter. Why have you come?”
“It is regarding tomorrow’s fair.” He states, walking closer and falling to one knee, stabilising himself near your feet. His hand rests on his raised knee as he speaks, not looking directly at you, but over your shoulder. Your teeth clench. You don’t like that he won’t meet your eyes. It feels like he’s talking to air, to someone insignificant. This is exactly how your mother and father spoke to you. You know he’s doing it out of respect, but it makes your already simmering anger boil a bit more.
“It will be held in the Town Square, and your attendance will be revered.” He continues, not noticing that you’re seething. You try to calm yourself with some covert breaths. “Your Highness will observe from a safe distance. First within your carriage and then from a specially prepared pavilion. There will be an archery contest that will be conducted under your blessing, but besides that, there will not be much duty for Your Highness. I will, of course, escort you throughout it, as well as His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Your heart squeezes painfully at the mention of your husband. Your mood immediately sours.
“Right.” You say in a clipped tone.
The Knight, Seungcheol, stiffens almost imperceptibly. His eyes almost shift to you. Almost. A small silence hangs between you before he speaks again. “Anything that is not to Her Highness’ liking will obviously be altered.”
You did not guess that he would notice your disapproval. You think for a few seconds. You don’t want to sit with the Prince. If you can help it in any way, you want to be far away from him. Should you dare? You find that the irritation simmering just under your skin is giving you courage.
“Can there be separate pavilions?”
You don’t have to see Eunhee to know she is shifting uncomfortably behind you. The Knight is taken aback, so much that he finally meets your eyes. Warm brown, like a shock to the system. His gaze feels like it zips through the air to connect him directly to you. No part of his expression betrays how he feels, but his eyes are open, honest. He gives you the slightest of nods, not looking away. The weight of his stare is heavy, strong. Reassuring.
“Your comfort is my most important duty. It will be arranged as you desire.”
You visibly relax. He understands what you mean. You don’t want to sit next to that man for hours if being in his presence feels like a thousand knives marring your skin. Even if that man is your husband. His betrayal and his lack of acknowledgment of your presence is too much. Any second in his vicinity feels like it is poisoning your blood. Mingyu’s letter, his admission of guilt, has done one thing; it has replaced your despair with boiling rage.
Your Knight knows this. His stare, his promise, is like balm to your wounded soul.
When he leaves and Eunhee retires for the night, you pick up the letter your brother wrote you and carry it to the fireplace. You watch the flames lick over the paper, slowly dissolving it. As the fire burns the ink, you feel like it is actually burning bridges.
Your sleep is deep and dreamless.
……………………………….
You are endlessly grateful that you are dressed down for the fair. Well, dressed down by royal standards, at least. You are still embellished head to toe, but there are fewer layers, so when you sit in your carriage and wait for the Prince to join you so you can leave, you are much more comfortable than you were on your previous travel.
That morning, Eunhee is the only one getting you dressed. It is quiet in your chambers, but Eunhee’s hands are slow, movements staccatoed and rough. You wonder if something is on her mind, and when she laces you up wrong twice before getting it right, you finally speak to her.
“Tell me what is bothering you, Eunhee.”
Her hands pause briefly, but not brief enough for it to go unnoticed. When she inhales, you can see that it is shaky. Something is wrong.
“Eunhee.” You say again, voice softer this time, more open. Finally, she swallows tightly and speaks.
“Her Majesty the Queen called for me last night after I retired from Her Highness’ chambers.” She mumbles, so quietly that you almost don’t hear. You are alone in the large room, but it seems like she still fears being overheard. Her words catch your attention.
“Why so?” You ask.
“Her Majesty was- was asking about Her Highness and His Highness the Crown Prince. Her Majesty wanted to know of your….. relations.”
You feel like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on you. “She wanted to know if we consummated the marriage?”
Eunhee’s face turns beet red. She does not respond. You feel that anger again, the same anger that clouded your senses last night. The Queen is inquiring about your movements like you are some common criminal. As if any of this is your fault, and not her vile son’s.
“What did you say?”
Eunhee quickly shakes her head, not meeting your eyes, her face resolutely turned to the floor, but her voice has hardened. “I told Her Majesty nothing.”
You let out a trembling exhale. You had not expected Eunhee to be loyal to you. You barely know her. Yet, she risked earning the Queen’s displeasure to protect you, someone who still has no footing in this castle.
“Thank you.” You whisper. And you truly mean it. Eunhee’s eyes raise up to meet yours, and you notice for the first time the tiny wrinkles on the corners of her eyes.
“Her Highness was deeply wronged.” She states. You feel your throat tighten. A second passes, and then Eunhee bows her head again, closing her eyes.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
The interaction is heavy on your mind when you sit in the carriage. You know for a fact that Eunhee is right, you have been deeply wronged, and you had stewed in that very sentiment for days. But you had not expected anyone from this castle to understand that feeling. Your own brother tried to justify it, despite being the one person you felt you could trust above all else. It seems everyone within these four walls expected you to take your circumstances in stride. But this handmaid assigned to you could feel your pain, and that made your burden lift just slightly.
You are pulled from your thoughts when the carriage door opens and your Knight, Seungcheol, climbs in right opposite to you. You are surprised when he closes the door behind him, and within seconds, the carriage starts moving under you. You blink.
“Where is the Crown Prince?”
The Knight gestures. “In the carriage behind Her Highness and I.”
You’re surprised. Your next instinct is to ask why, but your voice dies in your throat. Your Knight doesn’t look at you, instead opting to look out of the window.
“Is this your doing?” You ask instead.
He lowers his head slightly, and that essentially confirms it. A small silence hangs between you two. Through the open window, the wind rustles through your hair.
“If I have misread Her Highness’ wishes, I’m sincerely regretful.” He says.
He won’t look at you, still. You grit your teeth.
“Please look me in the eye when you speak to me, Sir Choi.”
He seems caught off guard, but he immediately shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness.”
You tap your foot lightly on the ground, staring at the Knight dead on. “So you can make decisions on my behalf, but you cannot look at me when you speak?”
You can see the moment his jaw ticks, clenching. A tiny tendril of amusement curls in your chest as you watch him battle with himself. It feels good, catching him off guard like this. Finally, he meets your eye. The same blazing brown from last night, illuminated today by the rays of the sun the way they were by the fireplace yesterday. You can’t help but smile.
“Good.” You quip. “Thank you. And thank you for….. arranging separate carriages. You have not misread my wishes at all, Sir Choi.”
He nods, and you see the ghost of a smile cross his lips. They’re plump and pink, and you force yourself to not look at them.
“If Her Highness insists I meet her eyes, then I insist she not call me Sir Choi.”
His tone is softer than the no-nonsense one from yesterday. The tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth shows you that he carries at least some jest in his request. Your amusement swells a little.
“What do you prefer then? Seungcheol?”
Something in the amber burning in his eyes softens. “Yes.”
The collar of your dress feels unusually hot. You watch Seungcheol for a few more moments, finally turning away from the glint in his eyes when you feel like the weight of it is too much to carry. The wind is cool on your heated skin.
You don’t say a word more.
………………………………..
The carriage roof can be peeled all the way back, and as you get closer to the town, Seungcheol bangs the side of it until it slows and stops. Then, he pulls the roof until it collapses, leaving you in open air so the crowds can see you as you arrive. There are some adjustments, some voices, and you hear footsteps from behind you.
“The townspeople will talk if you arrive separately.” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. You nod.
Your husband climbs into the carriage and seats himself next to you. Opposite him, a man settles down beside Seungcheol. You recognise him as Jeonghan, the Prince’s advisor.
“Your Highness.” He greets jovially. “Honored to be in your presence again.”
You nod amicably and give him a soft smile. Your husband doesn’t speak a word, despite not having seen you since last night as well. You do not care. Any kindling of infatuation you have for him died the night you laid alone in your chambers while he slept with another woman. Maybe multiple. You do not have a morsel of interest in the man anymore.
Seungcheol bangs the side of the carriage again. The procession begins moving.
The fair is sensational. You can tell that the townsfolk went all out to the best of their ability, now cheering and clapping as you ride through them, waving. The path your carriage takes is decorated as well, lined with flower petals, and the pavilion where you sit in the Town Square is colorful. Of course, it lacks the grace of most castle decorations, but it has heart. One look at the streaming banners and flower arrangements tells you that it was decorated out of love and admiration, and not out of obligation. You prefer this vastly to the castle ornaments that often feel cold and distant.
You are excited as you sit on the large cushioned chair fashioned into a throne, the Prince on the seat beside yours. Seungcheol stands at your arm, one hand on the hilt of his blade. You wish he would relax a bit, especially as the archery contest begins, but you feel better that he is beside you. You know it is only because you are the Crown Prince’s wife, but Seungcheol’s respect feels…. genuine. Like it extends beyond just his duty. Because if it didn’t, he would not go out of his way to make sure your journey here was comfortable, separating you and the Prince into different carriages. You’re still unsure of how he pulled that off, but you assume the Knight who is Champion to the Princess might have some extra authority not awarded to anyone else.
You manage to have a wonderful time at the fare, meeting the commonfolk who hang on to your every word, the Town’s mayor, other town officials, and some prominent business owners. A lot of them give Seungcheol attention as well, greeting him enthusiastically after receiving wishes from you. When you give your Knight a questioning look, he returns it sheepishly.
“This is my hometown.” He explains.
Ah. You can almost feel it now that he has revealed this fact to you. There is certain warmth in the people here that reflects in him sometimes, when he is not being overly stoic. The kind of warmth you saw in him when you were in the carriage. While he has been hardened by the rigorous years of training for the Royal Guard, some part of him is still defined by where he comes from. You find that notion heartwarming.
There is no part of where you come from that you wish to carry with you, but you are a complete product of it, down to your very bones. You wonder what people see when they look at you from afar, or when they meet you up close. Is any facet of you interesting or admirable? Or is it only your stature as a Princess that they revere? Your title, and not your person?
When the sky gets a little dimmer, it is time for you to leave. Your chest feels heavy, and you almost want to stay longer. But as it always is, you must not dwell. There is no room to stop. You sit in separate carriages again, and Seungcheol tugs the roof of the carriage back into place so the wind doesn’t disturb you. You stare out the window, surroundings blurring as the horses pick up speed. Your insides are comfortably tender.
“I wish to come back here.” You declare, turning to look at the Knight sitting opposite to you. He meets your eye, just as you requested, and you feel like he’s listening, really truly taking in what you have to say instead of letting your words pass him by like everyone else does. He smiles, that gentle uptick of his lips. The long shadows of the golden sunset fall over his pale skin, and you are reminded of swirling letters of poetry on parchment.
“As Her Highness commands.”
When you smile, it’s the first genuine one in days.
……………………………..
You find out in the next few days that you do not see eye to eye with the Queen, your mother in law, at all. Granted, you discovered this when Eunhee confessed to you how the Queen wanted her to blab on you, but it has now become clear that the Queen is really, truly, unconcerned with your feelings.
On your fourteenth day in the castle, you are introduced to your ladies-in-waiting, hand picked by the Queen, and you quickly realise these women are not meant to cater to your likeness at all. They are nothing but reflections of what the Queen would like you to be. There are seven of them, and they all behave and carry themselves a certain way. A collection of Noblemen’s and aristocrats’ daughters all educated and trained within the walls of the castle. They sit with you during breakfast and accompany you as you tour the gardens that day. You have still not seen the majority of the castle, and these days, you are shown around by your Knight, Seungcheol, or your husband’s advisor, Jeonghan, when he rarely has the time. Jeonghan is quick witted and sharp, an absolute joy to have a conversation with. He toes the line between formality and informality, unlike Seungcheol, who always speaks to you with carefully chosen words. However, around Jeonghan, Seungcheol becomes slightly more loose-lipped, which is very amusing to you, and gives you a look into his personality more. You learn quickly that both of them are fast, childhood friends. Jeonghan loves to tease the man, and Seungcheol, despite all his composure, is quick to be affected by his friend’s jests.
“You shouldn’t wander off into the grounds with only your company, Princess.” Jeonghan says one day, his tone playful. “Seungcheol here would lose his head.”
Seungcheol balks and winces, glaring at Jeonghan, but the heat in it fades when you let out a delighted laugh.
“Oh, I’m sure that is not possible. He is at my door every morning when dawn breaks. I cannot step foot outside without him in tow.”
Seungcheol huffs but there is no heat behind it. “Do I hover, Your Highness?”
“You do.” You nod. Jeonghan laughs in that choppy, giggly way of his. You give him a subtle wink when Seungcheol is busy taking a deep, stabilising breath to stop himself from telling you both how it’s his ‘duty’ and that he ‘took an oath of fealty’. Jeonghan has already teased him about that speech. His lips tug up, pushing together, and you honestly believe that your Knight, Champion to the Princess, Commander of the Royal Guard’s largest garrison, is pouting.
When you turn your head to meet his eyes, you give him a playful smile.
“Don’t be petulant, Sir Choi.”
Jeonghan ‘oooh’s in a way that pulls another laugh out of you. Seungcheol is fighting back a smile.
Today, however, Jeonghan is not present as your ladies in waiting traipse through the flower gardens along the west wall with you. Seungcheol is there, as always, but a few feet behind all of you to maintain respect. The ladies are very chatty, which is good because you can just listen without contributing too much, but a few hours into the day, the buzz of conversation starts to numb your brain.
Mid-afternoon, you excuse yourself with a headache, trudging back to your chambers after they all bow to you and you dismiss them. The corridor to your doors is blissfully silent, and you sigh loudly.
“Too much for your taste, Your Highness?”
You huff but don’t look back at your Knight. “Very. I’m drained.”
He lets out an airy chuckle, and your lip ticks up at the sound.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but the Chief Advisor and I bother you just as much when we accompany you.”
You laugh. “Not at all. Your conversations are endlessly amusing. Stimulating. I enjoy spending time with you.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and he doesn’t say anything more, but you swear you hear a breath hitch. The clanking of his chainmail sounds with it, so you are unsure. You don’t dwell on the thought.
When you reach your chamber doors, Seungcheol holds them open for you. You linger at the threshold, looking up at him with an exasperated expression.
“Must I spend all my days with them?”
His face is painted with amusement, and he nods. “I’m afraid so. The only way to avoid them is if you have official events and meetings.”
You hum and purse your lips, dejected. Seungcheol’s face clouds a little, like he is in thought.
“I can stretch your schedule, if you like. To keep you busy.”
You make a face. You don’t much like royal commitments. They are often stuffy and overly performative. Both options seem tiresome, whether it is meetings, or free days with a gaggle of talkative girls. You have another thought.
“You will be with me during any schedule set for me?” You ask.
Seungcheol nods. “Of course, Princess.”
“And no one else?”
He pauses. “I’m not sure. It depends on the nature of the schedule.”
You nod slowly. “Only you. And Eunhee.”
Your statement catches him off guard. He stares at you for a few long seconds, before he realises what he is doing and blinks, breaking the contact and looking down.
“As you wish.” He mutters. His shoulders have curved in slightly. His ears are tinged pink. You smile and step inside.
Eunhee is waiting for you with tea. You give her a grateful smile before settling into your armchair. You have subconsciously claimed this one as your spot, and Eunhee has learned to arrange everything around it to your convenience. She places your cup delicately on the table.
“How was your first day with the ladies in waiting, Your Highness?”
You let out a painful sigh. “They are….. enthusiastic.”
Eunhee smiles as she cuts fruit. You watch her.
Ever since Eunhee swore loyalty to you, you have formed a bond with her that you haven’t had with anyone for a long time. You had dismissed Hana immediately after Eunhee told you who she was, and you had asked Seungcheol to completely pack Eunhee’s day from top to bottom with tasks, on her request, so she could remain hidden either in your chambers, or with the seamstresses, or in the kitchens, away from the Queen’s eyes, so she may not sink her claws into Eunhee again. That had resulted in long stretches of time where it was just her and you.
You learn that Eunhee is married, and her husband is a soldier for the Royal Guard, a man named Soonyoung who is part of the garrison that Seungcheol leads. She got married merely a year before you, and the reason she was chosen as your personal maid was that she came heavily recommended by Jeonghan, who is wonderful friends with Soonyoung and has known Eunhee for a while.
“My mother worked for the Chief Advisor’s mother.” Eunhee explained to you. “The lady watched me grow up and trained within the castle walls. She and the Chief Advisor both believed I was best suited for your needs.”
“I’m glad.” You had said. “You are…. all I have, Eunhee.”
Her returning look had been forlorn.
“You have Sir Choi too, Your Highness.” She said. “He is loyal to you.”
You gave her a bitter smile. “He is loyal to the Crown.”
She shook her head immediately. “He is loyal to your Crown. He received favor from Your Highness, not the King. He serves you, not anyone else.”
When you didn’t reply, she just smiled.
“You will see, Princess.”
Eunhee’s words, her promise, stays with you in the days after that conversation, and it makes everything more noticeable. You feel Seungcheol’s care in little actions, your schedule explained to you beforehand and tweaked to cater every request, his physical presence, constantly behind you by five paces, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who interacts with you. When someone steps too close, he steps in, one arm extended to maintain distance between yourself and anyone else. And he makes exceptions for no one. Anything you want is arranged the second it falls from your lips, even if it’s a request as small as more comfortable seating, or as large as rearranging castle staff to whoever your liking suits. Seungcheol is with you, as said, from the moment the sun rises to the moment the moon is high in the sky and you retire to your bed. He does not leave until Eunhee leaves, and the guards outside your doors are meticulously picked and stationed by him.
“Your life and safety are my biggest priority.” He always says, a phrase that is said so resolutely, you would think it is seared into his brain. You don’t question it, because he leaves no room for doubt.
Eunhee’s words remain. They always remain. Like a balm on your injured, broken heart.
You think of your husband in fleeting thoughts. During Court, you sit by his side, the perfect new couple who will eventually take the throne and give the nation their next heir. The Court Advisors, Councillors and Noblemen have warmed up to you well enough, but of course, the Crown Prince is their main focus. You are nothing but his wife, at this point. An extension of him. A poorly kept, ignored, discarded extension.
He barely steps into your shared chambers. He barely exchanges words with you. You see Hana sometimes, and she bows weakly. She meets your eyes. Her necklace is gold, her perfume is disrespectfully strong. There are others. A councillor’s daughter. A nobleman’s. A royal guard’s. Eunhee tells you, repeatedly, that they are beneath you, but you conclude that it hurts worse that way, to be humiliated by those who are and will never be your equal, but are preferred by your own husband over you.
You are unable to explain to anyone how painful it is to feel your soul crack at its very foundations.
Seungcheol comes to you in the morning with an appointment that fills your heart with dread.
“There is a visiting envoy of foreign noblewomen arriving at the castle gates in four hours.” He says from where he sits in front of your fireplace, a few pieces of lengthy parchment in his hands that he is poring over. You stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror, watching yourself as Eunhee straightens your skirts, smoothing the wrinkles and adjusting the layers. It’s a grander dress than your usual attire, given the visitors entering the castle soon. You listen to Seungcheol tell you all the details quietly.
“Originally, Her Majesty the Queen was going to handle it herself, but this morning she specifically stated that your presence is mandatory as the new bride.”
You scoff, an undignified sound you would only dare let out in front of your handmaid and your Knight. “I have been living in this castle for four months. I’m hardly a new bride.”
“You are new to the visitors, Princess.” Seungcheol explains, ever patient with you. “The last time they were here, you were not married.”
You just grit your jaw tightly and don’t reply. You try to avoid the Queen unless it’s during Court or audiences. There too, you sit in silence and focus more on others than her. You know she is not particularly fond of you because you have not taken your husband’s lifestyle in stride. Many times, you have overheard her talk loudly to her ladies-in-waiting, claiming that you are arrogant and disobedient, and think too highly of yourself to be acting like you are.
“Men will always require more attention than one woman can give.” She would sneer. “It’s in their nature. She should be grateful that others are taking her load and providing their services.”
“Quite right, Your Majesty.” A lady in her entourage would quip, one who is many years the Queen’s junior, and very famously one of the King’s concubines. Even the thought that the Queen has kept one of her husband’s mistresses as her lady-in-waiting is appalling to you, but you know you are alone in these feelings. Within these castle walls, this is normal. Being chosen by royal blood for nightly attendances is considered the highest honor for these women, and they vie for the men’s interest. The very notion makes you sick to your stomach. You can never be like them. It would kill you.
You draw in a long, steadying breath at the thought of joining the Queen for today. You know that the whole day you will be weighed heavy with passive aggression and rude remarks. Not only does the Queen not forbid her ladies from being disrespectful to you, she actively encourages it. As you think about what awaits you as you walk down from your chambers, Seungcheol watches you closely.
“I know it will be difficult.” He mumbles. “I’m sincerely apologetic, Princess. I tried to schedule you for another commitment, but even I cannot raise a voice louder than the Queen.”
You wave his apology away. “Don’t fret, Seungcheol. Sometimes you have to face the music. Today is just that day for me.”
He shakes his head, never allowing himself to fall in step with you. At the bottom of the stairs, you turn to give him a smile. “I’m only upset you won’t be with me today.”
Seungcheol meets your eyes briefly, letting out a small chuckle and looking away. He still can’t look at you directly for more than a few seconds still, especially not somewhere that other people can see.
“Anytime you need me, just send for me.” He says, like it’s a placation. It is. You nod and smile.
It goes worse than you ever could have imagined.
The envoy is filled with older women who have known your mother in law for a long time. You are introduced to all of them with a certain distasteful tone in the Queen’s voice, and are bombarded with a flurry of questions, the most common one being why on earth you are not with child yet. You bite your lip on all of them, throughout the feast, the tour of the castle grounds afterwards, then tea. You listen to them gossip and giggle, and since you’re the new attraction, most jabs end up aimed at you. Catty and sharp, like knives, and they all take their liberties further when they see that the Queen is egging them on.
You’re exhausted.
“Straighten up.” The Queen says sharply from next to you as you stand in the castle gardens towards the north gate. You stiffen your body immediately, but she still seems unsatisfied.
“You have been cold and rude to our guests all day.” She states. “Is this how you’ve been raised? Some royalty you are. I should’ve known your ragged family would raise a petulant, disrespectful girl.”
Your mouth tightens. You don’t say anything. She sneers audibly.
“Be under no illusions, girl. There are many who can give this throne an heir. It doesn’t have to be you. You’re disposable to everyone in this castle.”
She shifts her attention back to the happenings around you. You feel like your ears are ringing.
It is after the dinner feast that you are finally excused from your duties. You trudge slowly back to your chambers. Your posture is still stiff and pulled up, like you’re marching through Court with hundreds of eyes on you. Your muscles are pulled taut, and your ears are still ringing. Something has formed a knot at the apex of your throat, and it has not loosened for many hours.
“Your Highness.” You hear his voice from behind you, and your steps halt. You hear the heavy thud of his leather boots on the stone floors. He stops next to you. You don’t look at him.
“Princess.” His voice has lowered, and it is tinged with caution when you don’t respond. “You are distressed.”
It is not a question, but rather a statement. He has been with you every day for months. So he knows. There is no doubt.
“I am weary, Seungcheol.” You whisper. You hear your voice waver. Your stare is blank and distant.
You feel a hand then, strong and sure, on your back, between your shoulder blades. A gentle nudge makes your feet move again, and slowly, you walk down the long hall that leads to your chambers.
You don’t know how you end up in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It’s already roaring, ready, and you try to make your muscles melt into the cushion. But they won’t cooperate, tight and unmoving. Hours of being on alarm has left you rock solid.
“I will send for Eunhee.” Seungcheol says after you’ve seated yourself. Before he can move away, your hand shoots up, gripping his wrist tightly.
“Don’t leave.” Your voice is frailer than you would like it to be, but you can no longer fake being strong after so many hours of doing so. Seungcheol looks shocked, eyes shooting to where your hand holds his arm. You take it away, but you give him a pleading look. Immediately, he nods, lowering himself to one knee on the floor near your feet.
For a few long moments, there is only silence. Then, you take a shaky breath.
“Most days I feel like I’m floating.” You say. “Untethered and weightless.
Like my presence holds no bearing in these walls.”
Seungcheol doesn’t speak.
“I mean nothing.” You continue. “I have meant nothing my entire life. I was a second-born daughter to a throne that already had its heir. Now I am married into a family where women are objects for their men’s whims and an indulgence for their bad habits.”
You look at your Knight, down on one knee before you. He watches you openly, his eyes soft, a warm brown you can lose yourself in.
“What is my worth, Seungcheol?” You muse, pressure building behind your eyes. “What do I mean to anyone here?”
You can see when Seungcheol’s lips part. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He takes his time, like he is searching for words.
“My mother was a lady-in-waiting for Her Majesty the Queen.” He states.
You blink, shocked. He nods, as if to reaffirm the sentence.
“She was selected before the then Princess was even married into the royal family, and introduced to the Princess one week after her arrival here. Three of the ladies-in-waiting for the Princess were the then Prince’s mistresses.”
“The Queen knew even before she was married how things worked within these walls. She knew her husband had mistresses, and her only goal as soon as she arrived at the castle was to bear unto him an heir. She felt that it was the one thing that would give her more value than any other woman in her husband’s bed. The thing that would separate her from them.”
You listen in dead silence.
“My mother watched all this.” He says. “She watched the Queen take any measure to gain her husband’s attention. The minute she knew she was with child, her husband mattered to her no more. She earned respect within these walls because she was carrying his blood. She established herself as that only, the mother of the heir. Not the Queen. Not the bearer of the Crown. Her pride came from her son.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What are you implying, Seungcheol?”
Your Knight blinks, then smiles. But it is sad, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I imply nothing, Princess. I am merely explaining that the Queen is so harsh with you because you are everything she wasn’t. And that scares her. She fears what she does not know and cannot predict.”
He lowers his head and continues speaking. “You may feel weightless and inconsequential. But there is strength behind your refusal to cater to the Prince. You have made a statement that you won’t let yourself be degraded like she was her entire life. Your lack of submission makes her furious. She thinks her reminders of your disposability will break you.”
When he lifts his head again, his eyes have hardened just slightly with a fire that pierces your heart. “You must not break, Your Highness.”
You stare at him for a long time. The resolute jut of his jaw, the way his eyes lock on you for this prolonged period of time, something he has never done before. The shadows from the fireplace dance over his face, but they don’t undercut the determination in his expression.
“Why?” You whisper in the quiet of the room. “Why are you so loyal to me, Seungcheol? You do not know me. You know the people in this castle. I am a mere outsider.”
He shakes his head, still not looking away. His gaze is like a comfortable weight around your shoulders.
“My mother told me about the Queen to prepare me for how you would be as well.” He speaks quietly. “I went into your service fully expecting you to be complacent to this system. But you weren’t.”
Seungcheol slowly lowers himself from one knee to both. Your breath hitches. He’s kneeling on both knees, the ultimate form of devotion to a royal.
“You were headstrong and unwilling to give in to whatever demands were imposed on you.” His eyes flicker and dim. “I am ashamed to admit that I assumed you would be like the princess before you. But you resisted, and you set boundaries. You refused to give yourself to a man who didn’t share your values. That is endlessly admirable to me, Your Highness. You are endlessly admirable to me.”
He breaks your gaze then, and lowers his head slowly. You feel his forehead brush just over the fabric on your knee.
“A spirit like yours is unlike any that are housed in these four walls. And it is my duty to keep it alive. I’m devoted to you and you only, and receiving your favor was the way I could ensure I would be your personal Guard. I fought in that joust tooth and nail after I heard of your supposed refusal to cater to the Prince. I wanted to be in service to you. If I was to give duty to this Crown, I only wanted it to be yours.”
You watch Seungcheol with bated breath, like inhaling or exhaling could break the air around you. You want nothing to disturb this moment. Your chest feels full. That knot in your throat is gone. You are left only with the warmth of the fireplace, and the sizzle on your knee where Seungcheol’s forehead presses to it, his head lowered and his hair lightly brushing the velvet of your dress.
You think of the Queen’s words. ‘You are disposable to everyone in this castle’, and then you look at the man kneeling before you, his forehead pressed to your leg, his broad frame curled on himself. The weightless feeling in your heart feels a tug, like someone is pulling it down, grounding it, making it feel like you have substance.
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
word count: 1.8k
warnings (for this chapter): infidelity, smut, nsfw, oral (f receiving), angst, forbidden love, feelings of inadequacy, hurt/no comfort.
series masterlist
You like him best when he is stripped to his bare bones. No chain mail, no armor, only him.
There’s a certain scent of calla lilies that always hangs in your chambers, drifting sweetly in the air. You prefer it to any other flower, because it’s not dense and it doesn’t sting your nose. It’s fresh and green, like cut stems or morning air, just enough to be pleasant, not enough to encompass your other senses. It is the same as your hearing, which picks up not only the sound of your lush silk sheets rustling gently together and over your bare skin, but also the sound of your soft sighs, a mix of relief and rolling, curling pleasure. Below them is the whisper of lips and tongue as he laps over the heat between your legs.
You can hear it, wet surfaces colliding, and exaggeratedly more than that, you can feel it, like ripples over a still water surface, traveling in uniform waves to the very ends. That’s how it feels, sensation rolling from your center, all the way to your fingertips. Your eyes are closed, the one sense you choose not to use in this moment, so you can amplify everything else. Your fingers reach down, winding through soft tresses of dark hair. Another sound joins the rest, a deep, raspy hum that originates from his chest.
You gasp at the feeling it elicits, again infiltrating the nerves running through your body. There’s no urgency in his actions, not like there often is. You are certain that tonight, no one will disturb you. And he knows it too, which is why he takes his time, really, truly worships you, tongue swirling and slurping over every nook and cranny, every crevice, places only he has explored, parts of you only he has touched.
His hands run over your heated skin, large palms, calloused, worn from years of yielding a mighty sword crafted especially for him. Your contrast to him is stark, waist and sides covered in skin so velvety because of years of pampering, lathered with the world’s most expensive scents and balms. The products your maids carefully smear your body with are one of a kind, sourced from the most far away, exotic lands for your explicit use. But his pale, scarred and rough skin feels glorious against your own, the only man in the world you will let dig his hands into your flesh. He loves doing this, just kneading, pinching, caressing every inch of you while his mouth explores your insides. He often says it too, that he can’t believe how soft you are.
“Pliant.” He whispers. “To be handled with so much care.”
And he does. His very touch is ardent, admiring. Even as you start to squirm over the sheets, legs tensing when the knot in your core tightens, his grip remains solid, not too harsh, because he knows you have time today. He moves as you move instead of holding you down, letting you fall apart on his mouth as he coaxes you through it, keeping his pace just the way he knows you like, the way that prolongs your peak as much as possible.
You’re breathing hard by the time he surfaces, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He does not even bother to wipe the signs of your release from his face, letting the shining liquid cool on his skin as he kisses a trail up your body to your face. He stops when his lips brush yours, eyes darting over your expression. You know how you look, pupils blown, the thinnest layer of sweat glazing your temples. Your maid would never let you get hot enough to sweat, always there to blow wind your way with the large canvas fan in her hand, a soft handkerchief to dab your skin when needed. Only in moments like this, your body trapped under him, are you ever even close to looking like this. Because he makes you sweat, and you admit you love it.
When he enters you, your opening already thoroughly prepped from the time he spent down there, you barely feel any resistance. But the stretch is still there, that full feeling only he can give you when he lays claim to your body like now. He groans, a sound that lights a fire in your chest when his hips are flush against yours. You watch the flit of various emotions on his face, overlying the base feeling of beautiful pleasure. Someone of his caliber, his stance, doesn’t dare break composure in any situation. Except this. Except when his body is connected so deeply to yours.
You love watching him fall apart like this. You want to see more. You tighten your body, his own jerks.
“Please, don’t.” He grits. “I will not be able to hold back.”
His words make your body heat, a sizzle under your skin that nearly has your eyes rolling. When have you ever heard the stable baritone of his voice break? Never. His very nature doesn’t allow it. This outlier, that exists only in the darkness of your chambers and in the late whispers of the night as moonlight filters through the window and falls on your intertwined bodies, it thrills you to bits.
“I don’t want you to hold back.” While his voice drops deeper, yours rises to the heights of pleasure. “Please. Take me like you mean it.”
His eyes, the warm earthy brown that has always grounded you, always been your salvation, flicker. He bites the plush of his bottom lip, face pinching. He knows how you like it. Red hot, fiery, the aching summit of emotion and passion. So his hands hook under your knees, pulling them up to fold your legs. He holds you down with his own weight, his forehead pressed to yours, before he sets a deep, steady, strong pace.
No one can see you like this. No one but him. No one can dominate you except the man who kneels before you every day, pledges loyalty to you and your Crown. You submit only to the one who would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you. Only him.
You let only him into your body like this. You let only him hold you down and fuck into you, chasing his own pleasure while he brings you yours. And only he leaves a part of himself in your most intimate depths, your back arching with your peak as his seed infiltrates your insides, coats you in his essence. His breaths hit your ear, his hands dig into your hips, careful not to be harsh enough to leave marks that your maids might see. His voice cracks as he releases, the most beautiful noise you have ever heard.
The grey stone ceiling swirls in your vision. You blink sharply, trying to take deep breaths to ground yourself. He pulls out slowly, carefully, not too harsh unless you demand it in the throes of pleasure, and never after it. You feel him straighten your body enough that he can clean you up, quick and efficient as he is in everything he does. You’re still catching your breath. You’re not particularly physically fit, not like he is. Your only strenuous activity happens during your weekly rendezvous with him.
Once he’s done, he gently tugs your body up so you can sit. You whine in protest. You can hear his amused huff.
“We need to clothe you, Your Majesty.” He murmurs, voice stripped of all of his usual guards, a tone reserved exclusively for you.
He tugs your silk nightgown over your body before laying you down again, finally leaving you stationary. You hear shuffling, and it makes your eyelids flutter open. You eye the muscles of his back, shifting under the smooth expanse of his skin. There’s a smattering of freckles over his shoulder blades, ones you have traced with your fingers before.
“You won’t lay with me?” You ask as you watch him pick up his discarded clothes and shake them out. He turns to you, giving you a soft smile when he sees the almost petulant downturn of your mouth.
“I cannot, my Queen.” He murmurs. “We risked it once, and I barely made it out without being caught by your steward. It was too close a shave.”
You sigh and melt into the mattress, closing your eyes. He is correct, you remember the fearful pounding of your heart all too well on that fateful night. You were so certain it was all over. So he is right to leave now. But your chest twists regardless. This is the most painful part of the night, watching him pull his clothes over his body, tunic first, then pants, and finally his padded jacket. His leather boots are thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, and he quickly locates them, tugging them on. He runs his hands through his hair, taming it. Finally, he turns to you.
You’re still pouting. He chuckles.
The mattress snags a little under his weight as he plants a knee on it. He leans down to brush his lips softly over the apple of your cheek.
“Sleep.” He whispers. “I will see you in the morning.”
You sniff, indignant. Of course he catches it. He knows you inside and out. No one understand you like he does, physically and mentally.
“Do not be upset with me, Your Majesty.” He breathes. “It hurts me.”
You sigh. You are not really cross with him, but rather with your circumstances. That Seungcheol has to make sweet love to you, and leave immediately afterward. That your body has to turn cold on this bed instead of having his bare skin press to your back, keeping you warm.
“I’m not upset.” You mumble, your voice carrying a tone of resignation. He watches for a few more seconds before brushing another sweet kiss on your cheek. You can see the soft, curling pain in his gaze, and it pains you to meet it, so you look at the blank, gray wall instead. You hear him sigh.
“I must leave now. Your husband might be returning soon.”
Something bitter curls in the back of your throat. What nonsense, as if your husband wants anything to do with you during any part of the day. He would not give you a morsel of attention even in a crowd of the castle’s most important officials, let alone when it is just you and him. You are more alone in his presence than you are when left entirely to your own solitude.
You close your eyes so you don’t have to watch Seungcheol slip out of the heavy, oak doors.
