AlmatiarAU

taglist: @haangui @flowinj @choomo @yooforeaa @bbarmy13 @unstableunic0rn @kelsyx33 @skylaarluu @dream-cvtcher @wortzik-s @lostfiles101 @sc05 @bat1man @stars4kooo @rms-expensive-girl @sleepyeclipes @senaqsstuff @ianeaniee @liaagukie @j0cgr0c @impossiblecopoaffire @bloomstarlight-nights @iraaawrr @noookiiieee @evtrack @ysm-1996 @a-nyx-7 @waffleishi @almatiarau @mni4ng3l @perradelmal @jiwikiwi @jendeuk123 @whoa-jo @jjkkkk15

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You always thought Tuesday was the worst day of the week and unfortunately for you, today was a Tuesday.

You were sitting at your desk with your coworkers sitting beside you, who were doing their work while you stared into the abyss, feeling completely done with your life, as your powerpoint stared back at you.

You were asked to analyse some data for a client, which normally wouldn’t have been an issue as it’s a job you’ve excelled in for the past two years. But this project was an exception because the client still hasn’t given you any of the information you needed and for the past weeks, you’ve emailed them, messaged them, called them, and when none of that worked, you even went to their office yourself, three times at that. The only thing they told you was, “We’ll email everything to you before the due date.”

The due date was tomorrow and you still had nothing. And today you were supposed to show the Director of Insights, Mr. Jeon, what he would be presenting to the client tomorrow. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Jeon is also the toughest director to impress in the entire company.

You groaned thinking about what you will have to deal with. This series of misfortunes ought to stop today.

You pushed your chair backwards, grabbed your phone, stood up, and started walking towards the bathroom. Once you were inside, you went into one of the stalls, locked the door behind you and lowered the toilet lid before sitting down on it.

You checked your phone and immediately saw that you had a new Teams message from Yoongi. Yoongi worked in a different division of the company from you. You actually met him at a bar three months ago, and somehow the one night you spent together turned into another, then another, until the two of you now are in a so-called situationship. There were no feelings or attachment involved but it was exactly what the two of you wanted; a lot of fun and a lot of sex.

You opened his message.

Yoongi: So did you take pictures in the new lingerie?

You chuckled at his message before sending your reply.

You: yes. Yoongi: and where are they? You: if i send them now won’t you spend the rest of the day distracted at work? Yoongi: i badly want to be distracted. You: you’ll get hard Yoongi: baby, you’re such a tease. i just can’t wait to fuck you. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile forming on your face as you opened your photo gallery. You took three pictures the night before wearing the rose-pink suspenders with floral embroidery with a matching bra and thong set that you knew Yoongi had been waiting to see ever since you mentioned purchasing them.

You selected all three pictures, and were about to choose the recipient. but just as you were about to send them, another Teams notification showed up at the top of your screen.

Mr. Jeon: Send me the deck now and come to my office in five.

Your smile disappeared immediately, “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

You quickly hit send on the photos, opened your files folder and immediately sent it before locking your phone and standing up. Before leaving the bathroom, you took a glance at the mirror and gave yourself a small pep talk, “You’ll be fine!”

As you walked to Mr. Jeon’s office, your phone vibrated three times inside your pocket. You didn’t bother checking because you assumed it was Yoongi reacting to the pictures you just sent him, messaging you to tell you he couldn’t wait to fuck you later. 

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Jungkook was reviewing documents his assistant sent him when he heard the Teams notification. He saw your name appear on the top right hand side of the monitor, and clicked on the message, expecting to find the deck he asked you to send.

But what he saw was clearly not the deck.

For a few seconds, Jungkook genuinely thought he opened the wrong conversation. But Jungkook was single and he didn’t have a partner who would share these type of pictures to him. He looked at your name again, then back at the pictures on his screen, only to realise that you definitely sent these intimate pictures of you in your lingerie to him.

They were clearly never meant for his eyes, but Jungkook still found himself staring longer than he should have. So this is what you looked like underneath all the clothes, he thought to himself.

“Fuck,” he muttered quietly.

Your nipples were visible in the see-through lingerie and they were staring right at him. Or he was staring right at them, he couldn’t tell the difference. All Jungkook knew was your beautiful tits would fit perfectly in his hands.

Fuck. 

Jungkook could feel his cock getting hard at the sight of you in your lingerie.

Fuck.

He looked from one picture to another, studying your body closely as if there would come a time where your body would be right under his and his hands would be roaming all over your body, pinching your nipples and spanking your plumpy ass.

Fuck.

Was this not sexual harassment? 

Jungkook always noticed that you were pretty, but he never thought about you as anything other than one of the analysts working under him. Now all he could think about is your body under his with your matching rose-pink lingerie.

Fuck. 

Jungkook really tried his best to look away, but you looked so fucking sexy. He wondered what it would be like to eat you out, wondered what you taste like, what you would sound like moaning his name.

Fuck. 

Jungkook’s cock was now so hard he had to adjust himself in his seat.

His eyes were still glued to the screen, the pictures of you were now imprinted in his mind. Just as Jungkook was about to message you, there was a knock on his office door.

“Mr. Jeon?" he heard your voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?”

Jungkook cleared his throat and took a deep breath before answering, “Come in.”

You opened the door and walked towards his desk. Mr. Jeon Jungkook was dressed in a full suit and his glasses resting on his nose. The whole walk to his office, you were preparing yourself to get fired. Now that you were standing in front of his desk, you bowed your head slightly and immediately apologised, “Mr. Jeon, I’m so sorry. I know I’ll be fired for this.”

Jungkook looked up from his monitor and realised you must have noticed you sent the wrong messages to him. Jungkook didn’t say anything back to you as he wanted to hear what your explanation was, but his eyes were going back and forth from the picture of you in your lingerie to the fully clothed you standing in front of him. He wanted so badly to close the blinds in his office and eat you out right there and then.

Fuck.

Jungkook, you perverted bastard, he thought to himself.

“I’ve tried everything to contact the client, but they just haven’t replied. I emailed them, called them, followed up multiple times, and I even went to their office. They told me they would send everything before tomorrow, but I still haven’t received anything,” you were playing with your fingers nervously before continuing, “the deck I sent you is incomplete because I don’t have the full picture of their data. I understand if you want to fire me.”

Jungkook now realised that you had absolutely no idea what you just sent him. You were apologising for a completely different matter.

You stood there waiting for him to respond, but Mr. Jeon was now looking back at his computer screen, which convinced you further that this was probably going to be your final day at the company. Your entire life was about to change because some client couldn’t do their job. And you were damned because job hunting is difficult nowadays.

You were just beginning to imagine yourself filling out job applications for the next three months when Mr. Jeon slowly removed his glasses. 

You immediately started sweating because everyone in the office knew that Mr. Jeon removing his glasses was some kind of habit he does before getting into any serious conversation.

“____,” he finally said with his glasses in his hand.

“Yes, sir?”

“I did not receive the document,” he answered.

“Oh,” you replied, “I’m sure I sent it to you, sir.”

“You sent me something,” Jungkook replied, choosing his words carefully, “but it definitely wasn’t the presentation.”

You frowned, unsure of what this attachment sent to him was, “Then what did I send?”

Jungkook chuckled before leaning back slightly in his chair, his cock still hard against his pants, “Something completely different and considerably more interesting than the deck.”

“Huh?” you stared at him in confusion before slowly reaching for your phone, “what do you mean, sir?”

The first thing you saw when your phone screen lit up on your hand was three messages from Yoongi.

Yoongi: is this the deck for that client you were complaining about? Yoongi: ugh just send me the pics. Yoongi: you’re too good at teasing me.

You died then.

Or at least you wished you had died right there and then. You couldn’t believe that you sent Yoongi the deck instead, and you started wondering who received the…

No, you thought to yourself.

NO FUCKING WAY. 

You quickly opened Teams and clicked on your conversation with Mr. Jeon and there they were. All three pictures were sent directly under Mr. Jeon’s last message asking you to send him tomorrow’s deck.

You stared at your phone in complete silence as the worst nightmare you could possibly imagine unfolded right in front of you. You somehow sent pictures of yourself in lingerie meant for the guy you were sleeping with, to your boss.

You were utterly and completely fucked. You were fucked from every fucking angle and every fucking hole. You were fucked and fucked some more. You will never ever find another job, or work in this industry ever again.

You were fucking done for.

Jungkook remained silent as you looked between your phone and him, your face becoming more and more red with every passing second. Would your face be this red with his cock inside you? Jungkook quickly shook his head. he needed to stop thinking about fucking you, but you looked too fucking sexy in your lingerie.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally said, lowering yourself beside the chair in front of his desk, kneeling in front of Mr. Jeon and lowering your head, staring at the grey carpet in his office, “Please, sir. I didn’t mean to send those to you. It was a mistake.”

“I assumed that,” Jungkook replied.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pleading to your boss, “Please don’t fire me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment before glancing back towards his computer where your pictures were still open, “I’m not firing you.”

You slowly lifted your head to look at him, “You’re not?”

“No, but the next time you send an attachment, check what you’re sending first,” Jungkook said. He didn’t know where he get his courage from to tease his own employee, but he couldn’t help it. The more you speak, the more your lips parted for you to speak, the more he imagined them wrapped around his cock. 

Jungkook cleared his throat again, trying to compose himself before finally saying, “Just send me the deck. I already know the problem with the client. Send me whatever you have on their business and I’ll do the rest. You’ve handled it well, so don’t worry about getting fired for something that’s clearly not your fault.”

“Yes, sir,” you answered as you slowly stood up, “should I go back to my desk now?” 

You couldn’t and didn’t want to be in the room any longer. You were embarrassed. You didn’t want to do anything else other than die. You wanted to bury yourself six feet under and never come up.

All this time you thought you knew what embarrassment felt like, well, sike. You knew nothing of the emotion.

“That might be a good idea,” Jungkook said. He wanted you out of his office immediately even when there was an elephant in the room that he, as your boss, should probably address. But Jungkook needed time alone and he badly needed to take a cold shower.

You turned towards the door, but before you could leave, Mr. Jeon called your name again. You slowly looked back, bracing yourself for what’s about to happen, “Yes?”

“Do send me the deck,” he said.

You nodded at him and left his office as quickly as you possibly could. You even ran to your desk, making all heads turn to you. You ignored all of your coworkers' questions, opened your email and carefully selected the presentation file. Before sending it, you checked the file, opened the attachment, checked every slide, closed it, reopened it and checked it again.

Your coworker watched you doing the same thing for the fifth time, “Are you okay?”

You pressed send and immediately buried your face in your hands, “I just want to die.”

Across the office, Jungkook received another Teams notification and saw your name appear on his screen again. This time, it was an actual pptx file and the presentation was incomplete, exactly as you warned him, but the client meeting tomorrow was no longer the thing Jungkook was concentrating on.

Mr. Jeon: The deck is fine. I’ll work around the missing data. You: thank you sir. and again, i’m really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to send it to you, sir.

You regretted sending it almost immediately, why did you bring it up again? though what was even more nervewrecking was Jungkook didn’t reply to your message straight away.

Mr. Jeon: You should stop apologising. You: sir, i literally accidentally sent you lingerie pictures. Mr. Jeon: Oh, I’m very aware. You: okay… then we can pretend it never happened.

Jungkook didn’t respond immediately, but you knew he already read it. You waited, one minute passed, then five, and you figured the conversation was over. So you reached for your mouse to close the Teams app when you heard the notification sound.

Mr. Jeon: That might be difficult.

Fuck, you thought.

Of course it would be difficult. What kind of person forgets something that mortifying so easily? He was probably sitting in his office cringing in your behalf, experiencing secondhand embarrassment so severe he is considering removing you from his team.

You: difficult? Mr. Jeon: Yes.

He definitely meant it would be difficult for him to forget. It was probably humiliating for him too, especially that it happened at work from someone who worked directly under him.

You buried your face in the desk when you heard another notification come through.

Mr. Jeon: I probably shouldn’t say this, but I can’t help it and it’s only fair after what you have done to me. Mr. Jeon: You looked so sexy in it, _____. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget what I saw. Mr. Jeon: Next time you buy something like that, I’d prefer it if it wasn’t sent as an accident.

For a few seconds, you just stared at the screen because there was absolutely no way in hell that you read his messages correctly. So you read it again and again, and again. He actually said next time as if there was a possibility of seeing you like that again.

This was Mr. Jeon Jungkook, your boss. 

The same man who is so professional he rarely, almost never, joins to team outings. The same man who is so insanely professional that no one knows what kind of person he is outside of work.

And this same man, Jeon Jungkook, is basically telling you that not only did he like what he saw, but he wouldn’t exactly object to seeing it again.

The worst part is, instead of making you want to disappear forever, the thought of sending him pictures of yourself in lingeries sent a thrill throughout your body.

taglist: @haangui @flowinj @choomo @yooforeaa @bbarmy13 @unstableunic0rn @kelsyx33 @skylaarluu @dream-cvtcher @wortzik-s @lostfiles101 @sc05 @bat1man @stars4kooo @rms-expensive-girl @sleepyeclipes @senaqsstuff @ianeaniee @liaagukie @j0cgr0c @impossiblecopoaffire @bloomstarlight-nights @iraaawrr @noookiiieee @evtrack @ysm-1996 @a-nyx-7 @waffleishi @almatiarau @mni4ng3l @perradelmal @jiwikiwi @jendeuk123 @whoa-jo @jjkkkk15

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You met Jungkook in your third year of university and dated him for four years after that. His family loved you, your family loved him, and even your friends eventually merged into one big friend group.

That was why the breakup made absolutely no sense. There was no reason for it. Just one random night, Jungkook sat across from you and told you he couldn't do this anymore. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate him for it. How could you hate him when you still loved him with your entire heart?

You still checked his Instagram, you still asked your friends about him, and funnily enough, they would tell you that Jungkook did the exact same thing. He wanted to know whether you were eating properly and how your work has been. Nobody understood it, “Why break up if you're both still in love with each other?”

You even still hung out with his younger sister, Sihyeon, who didn’t want to accept that the break up meant she was supposed to lose you as well. "I don't understand him," Sihyeon once said, "he clearly still loves you, then why did this even have to happen?"

You didn't have an answer for her, hell, you spent years trying to find an answer yourself.

Three years after the breakup, you met Taehyung. He was nice, funny, and thoughtful. He remembered things you mentioned once in passing, and never made you question whether he liked you because he made it obvious. You enjoyed being around him, and for the first time in years, you wondered whether it was finally your time to move on. 

The only difference in this third year after the break up was that Jungkook just disappeared. Sihyeon never asked to meet up, nobody in the friend group seemed to know what he was doing, and whenever you asked Seokjin, his closest friend, he insisted Jungkook had a lot to take care of lately.

You were at home when Seokjin called you and said it was an emergency. Seokjin looked terrible when you met him, his hair was so messy that you had to ask, "Are you okay?"

"No,” he answered immediately, "you need to see him. He never wanted you to know, and he's going to hate me for telling you, but I need you to know now because I don't want him regretting this on his deathbed."

You froze in your seat, "What do you mean, Seokjin?"

"It's stage four,” Seokjin said, tearing up, "Jungkook broke up with you when he found out he had cancer. He thought he'd recover and come back to you when everything was over but it's been three years and it's only gotten worse. He didn't even tell his family until this year," his voice cracked, "I'm so sorry."

For a few seconds, you couldn't understand what he just said even though you heard every single syllable, "Where is he?"

"His parents' house. I'll drive you."

The drive there was quiet. Well, you didn't know what there was to say anyway. You just stared out the window and cried. Of course Jungkook would do something like this. Of course he decided everything alone. He probably convinced himself that breaking your heart once was better than letting you watch him slowly die. He wouldn't have wanted you to be his caretaker, wouldn't have wanted your twenties spent sitting in hospitals.

You came up with a million different reasons why he thought hiding his illness and breaking up with you made so much more sense. And you hated him because it all made sense. You hated him so much because you loved him so much.

Jungkook knew Seokjin had gone to get you. He figured it out the moment his friend refused to tell him where he was going. Jungkook never wanted you to see him like this, the entire point of breaking up with you was so that you would never see him this way.

For three years Jungkook kept himself away because he loved you enough to know you deserved a better life. He wanted you to be travelling, working, and having fun with your friends. Jungkook even wanted you married someday, even if the thought of someone else standing where he should have been made him sick. 

He heard about Taehyung. Jungkook was jealous enough that Seokjin told him to stop asking questions if he couldn't handle the answers. Jungkook was scared because somewhere inside him there was always that selfish hope that he would get better before you moved on. 

Jungkook was mostly furious at the universe; why did he have to get sick when there was still so much time he wanted to spend with you? Jungkook never wanted a fancy life, all he wanted was an ordinary life with you. 

You walked towards the bed and Jungkook immediately looked away, ashamed you had to look at him this way, "Jungkook," you said as you sat beside him, "I like your buzz cut."

"I'm sorry,” was all Jungkook could say.

You took his hand carefully in yours, "That's okay, my love, there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm here now."

“I love you,” Jungkook whispered, tears slipping down his face.

“I love you too,” you replied. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but how could you not? The love of your life was dying right in front of you.

When Jungkook noticed the tears in your eyes, he slowly lifted his hand and weakly gestured for you to come closer. You leaned towards him, and with the little strength he had left, he kissed your forehead.

His parents were in the room. Sihyeon was crying beside her mother, and Seokjin stood in the doorway because he couldn't bring himself to come any closer. You stayed beside Jungkook with his hand still in yours and eventually his breathing began getting slower.

"I love you," he mouthed once more before closing his eyes. 

And sometime after that, surrounded by everyone who loved him, Jungkook went quietly in his sleep.

They say the brain remains active for seven minutes after the heart stops and that in those final moments, your memories replay themselves one last time. 

Jungkook's seven minutes were all you. 

From the moment he first saw you to the moment he last saw you just before he closed his eyes.

Within those seven minutes, one question remained: Who did he owe the biggest apology to?

Strangely enough, the answer wasn't you. 

It was himself.

Because nobody has ever been crueler to Jungkook than he had been to himself.

All he ever wanted was you, to love you and be loved by you. But the cruel part of him believed he didn’t deserve you and pushed you away.

If only he held you closer for those three years instead.

You were bullied in high school, though thankfully it didn’t take long for the bullying to stop. You never knew why and never cared enough to search for the answer from your bullies.

In school, Jungkook was the most popular kid. He wasn’t just popular because of his devastatingly handsome face, but he was very kind to everyone too. Without you ever knowing, Jungkook was actually the one to make a deal with the girls bullying you. The deal was he would be friends with these girls if they stopped bothering you, and thankfully, they agreed. From then on, they left you alone and you never knew of this fact but ever since high school, Jungkook’s eyes have always been on you.

Three years later, you met again during your first year at university. You were sitting in the university cafeteria when Jungkook saw you and he couldn’t believe his eyes. After high school graduation, he never knew where you went or what happened to you. So when Jungkook saw you, the girl he liked in school, sitting in the cafeteria of his university, he immediately came over to greet you. 

You were even more surprised that the Jeon Jungkook even remembered who you were. And the two of you ended up spending the rest of the day talking and before you parted ways, Jungkook asked for your number.

One of your favourite hobbies was playing Taiko No Tatsujin at the arcade. There was a scoreboard with five positions, and no matter how much effort you put into the game, you could never beat someone called “JEYK” who held the first place. The other four spots were filled with your initials from your failed attempts to beat JEYK. During one of your first hang outs with Jungkook, you brought him to the arcade and complained about your rival. Jungkook found it hilarious because you had no idea that JEYK was him, and he was too giddy to reveal that he was, in fact, the rival you mentioned. 

After you left to go back home, Jungkook returned to the arcade alone, played the game until he got the highest score, and entered your initials instead of his.

As you became closer, your friend groups started mixing too. 

During one dinner, everyone was playing truth or dare and you were reaching for another drink as your punishment. But before you could your drink, Jungkook noticed how drunk you already were, so he grabbed your glass and drank your punishment in your stead, making everyone around the table immediately go, “awww.” 

Later that night, your phone fell underneath the table and when you bent down to grab it, Jungkook placed his hand underneath the edge of the table so you wouldn’t hit your head as you came back up. You noticed what he was doing and quietly thanked him. And Jungkook simply replied, “Of course, baby.”

After that, you began noticing all the small things he did. Whenever Jungkook was talking to someone on campus and saw you walking, he would quickly say goodbye to them and immediately walk with you. He seemed to appear everywhere in your life too; Jungkook started joining your weekend cafe hopping trips, he started texting you throughout his day, and by the next semester, he even started choosing the same classes as you.

You couldn’t help but slowly fall in love with him, but there was one thing you knew for sure.. you would never confess first.

During a high school reunion, you ran into one of the girls who used to bully you. She looked between you and Jungkook who came together, before saying, “Wow, so in the end Jungkook finally confessed to you.”

You were confused, didn’t know what she meant by it, “What do you mean?”

She looked surprised that you didn’t know, then nodded her head slowly before answering, “Well.. we stopped bullying you because Jungkook told us he would be friends with us if we left you alone,” she paused before adding, “sorry for that too, by the way. I was childish.”

You cried that night because you never knew that Jungkook defended you then. You also suddenly realised that ever since Jungkook entered your life again, you always felt prioritised. You spent most of your life feeling like you belonged in the backseat, like everyone and everything else came first before you. 

But Jungkook has never made you feel that way, not even once.

One night, after studying together at the library, the two of you were walking home when Jungkook noticed you were cold and gave you his sweater. 

After a few more steps, Jungkook suddenly stopped walking, “This might be really unromantic, doing this outside the library,” he stopped for a second as if to gather his thoughts, “but we have been really close for the past year, and I just wanted to make sure you know what my intentions are.”

"Ah," the innkeeper added quickly, sensing the tension, "but the room is an ensuite, it is very spacious. And there is a sofa in the room itself, it is large enough to be used as a bed if the Captain does not mind sleeping on it for a night."

"How reassuring," you stated.

"Well," Jungkook said, ignoring your remark as he looked at you, “my lady, it appears that our evening is about to become considerably more interesting than either of us planned."

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The room was located on the top floor of the four-storey inn, and it was much smaller than the inn keeper’s description of the “spacious” ensuite.

A queen sized bed took up most of the space in the room, placed beneath the only window in the room. Against the opposite wall was a blue sofa with its colour faded and its cushions worn thin from the years of use. Although it was advertised by the inn keeper as an ensuite, the room has no private washroom which meant you had to share the outside washroom with the occupant of the room next door.

"The bed is mine," you said to the Captain the moment the innkeeper's footsteps faded down the hall.

"Of course," Jungkook said, setting his own bag down beside the sofa without any argument, which annoyed you more than if he had fought you for it.

"You are not going to try to fight your place for the bed?" you asked.

"Should I?" Jungkook asked, already unbuttoning the top of his coat, "I am a soldier, my lady. I have slept on a considerably worse surface than a sofa with cushions and I wouldn’t want a lady like you to sleep on the sofa."

"How noble of you," you scoffed, “though I must say, you surrendered rather quickly for a soldier.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you, “I prefer battles worth fighting.”

He began unbuttoning his coat, as he continued, “Besides, as I have mentioned, I have slept in worse conditions than this. My lady, I have slept in trenches, barns, and in the middle of the warzone itself. A sofa with cushions is nearly luxurious.”

“Well, you chose to become a soldier,” you replied, “if you just chose another job, you would never have had to sleep on a battlefield in the first place.”

Jungkook’s hands froze at the front of his coat as you continued to speak your ill-informed argument.

“Soldiers speak of war as if it is something that they didn’t choose themselves,” you continued, “then they expect the rest of us to pity them for the suffering they willingly walked into. If men refused to become soldiers, there would be no one left to fight these wars.”

For the first time that evening, Jungkook’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing at first. He inhaled a small breath before resuming to unbutton the rest of his coat.

“My lady,” he firmly said, “I suggest you keep such unfounded opinions to yourself. Especially when you were raised in a house so comfortable that you have never been forced to see beyond your own life.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. But he knew nothing of your life, nothing of the expectations that followed you around since childhood or the choices that have never truly been yours, just like this marriage. 

Before you could think of a way to respond, Jungkook turned his back to you and took off his coat. He folded it neatly over the arm of the sofa, even smoothing the fabric once before stepping away.

What a strange man, you thought to yourself. You expected him to be the sort of man who leaves his clothes scattered everywhere, as men often do. But Jungkook was surprisingly neat.

“You are staring at me,” Jungkook said, his back still facing you as he searched through his satchel.

“I am not,” you replied, finally looking away.

“You have been silent for ten whole seconds. I could not help but grow concerned,” Jungkook said as he pulled out a small stack of reports from his satchel bag.

“I was merely surprised that you know how to fold your own coat,” you muttered.

He glanced over his shoulder, “Were you expecting me to wait for a servant?”

“I was expecting you to just throw it on the floor,” you answered.

“Your opinion of me continues to wound me,” Jungkook said as he lowered himself onto the sofa.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The fire went out in the fireplace just right after you arrived, but neither of you made any move to relight it. For several minutes, you both sat in silence, each of you too stubborn to mention the room growing colder.

“It is getting cold,” you finally said, folding your arms across your chest.

“I’m aware,” Jungkook replied. He didn’t look up from the report in his hand, still seated on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other. It annoyed you how entirely unbothered he was by the cold.

"You could light it," you muttered.

"I could," he agreed, turning a page, "but as you can see, I’m busy."

"Captain," you insisted.

"My lady,” he replied.

You sighed and walked across the room, kneeling in front of the fireplace. After shifting the logs around, you struck a match and held it to the dry pieces of wood, but the flame refused to start. You tried again, then once more and again and again until your irritation grew with every failed attempt. All the while, you could feel Jungkook’s eyes were watching you.

Jungkook watched you struggle through four more attempts before letting out a sigh. He set the papers aside, stood up from the sofa, and walked to the fireplace to kneel beside you, close enough for his shoulder to brush against yours.

"Move," he said.

"I am perfectly capable of doing this," you insisted, shooing him away with one hand.

"Move, my lady, before you burn down this inn,” Jungkook answered.

You moved aside out of spite than obedience, and watched as he brought the fire to life in under a minute with that same irritating calm posture of his. 

"You knew there would be only one room," you said, watching the flames grow, "did you not?"

"I did not," Jungkook answered, "I am equally inconvenienced by this arrangement, my lady, whatever you have decided to believe about me is not true at all."

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You seem remarkably comfortable with the situation.”

“I will be sleeping on a sofa in a freezing room, sharing the space with you, all while being accused of planning all of this,” Jungkook’s expression remained calm as he continued, “comfortable is not the word I would use.”

A smile almost formed at the corner of your mouth, but you held it back, “Then we are both miserable,” you finally said.

“At last,” Jungkook replied, finally standing up to walk back to the sofa, “something we agree on.”

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Jungkook was focused on whatever report he was reading, not that you cared much for it, while you sat on the bed with a book in your hand. To be frank, the words on the book somehow stopped making sense to you as your attention was drifting again and again to the presence of the man across the room. 

You hated that the universe put you in this situation. A week ago, you never would have believed you would be sharing a room with a soldier, of all people, a Captain too at that. And to make it even worse, you dislike him and everything about him irritates you. From the way he was sitting there to the way his pen moved every now and then to circle something on the page.

You sighed.

It was getting late, and going to sleep seemed better than spending another minute listening to him work. So you opened your bag and reached for your nightgown then realised that the only nightgown you brought had a fabric thin enough to be almost see-through. On top of that, the washroom could only be reached through the hallway outside. And at this hour, the hallway was still crowded with travellers, all of whom would have plenty to say if they saw a duke’s daughter wandering around with a see-through nightgown. 

You were furious. The last thing you wanted to do was being even more involved with the Captain. And yet here you were with no other option than to change in front of him.   

There was really nothing else you could do. You would need to change in a room barely bigger than your wardrobe at home, with your betrothed sitting less than three feet away.

"Jungkook," you muttered.

Jungkook looked up from his report and he was startled to say the least. It was the first time you have addressed him without his title, and the sound of his name alone seemed to catch him off guard. To his own surprise, Jungkook didn’t mind it.

"Yes, ____?" he answered.

You were just as startled to hear him say your name without “lady” or any other title before it. and somehow, he made it sound far more intimate.

“I need to change into my nightgown,” you said, avoiding his gaze, “could you stand over there and face the fireplace until I’m finished?” you asked, pointing at an area near the fireplace.

"Okay," he said as he immediately stood up from the sofa, walked a few paces towards the fireplace, turned to face the fire with his back to you and his hands loosely clasped behind him.

You watched him from the corner of your eye as you undid the clasps of your dress, your fingers moving more slowly than necessary. You couldn’t help noticing the change in him the moment he heard the rustle of fabric coming from you.

Jungkook’s ears flushed a shade of red, and his entire posture went stiff as if he just realised what exactly was happening in this room.

"Captain," you said, unable to help yourself from teasing him, "I would have thought a man of your reputation would be rather used to moments like this. I didn't know you still had it in you to be shy."

"Don't flatter yourself, my lady. Who ever said I was shy?" Jungkook questioned.

"No one," you answered sweetly, still teasing him, "though your ears did turn red just now."

He didn’t argue again, and something about his silence sent a small thrill through you. You had won, you thought to yourself; Captain Jungkook was only a man after all.

The only nightgown you packed was thinner than you would have liked, the fabric was revealing far more of your chest than you were comfortable with. Your nipples were basically almost out in the open for him to see, but still, there was nothing to be done now and you were not going to sleep in your outside dress simply to spare Captain Jungkook.

Besides, you would be married to him in three weeks’ time anyway.

"You may look now, Captain," you said, "I've changed into my sleeping gown."

The silence stretched for far too long before Jungkook finally turned to look at you, and when he did, he was not prepared for the sight of you.

His gaze swept over your body before he could stop himself, falling to your breasts and lingering there a second too long before snapping his focus back to your face.

For that brief moment, Jungkook was no captain. He was not the composed man he presented himself to everyone else. He was simply a man caught off guard by the sight of the beautiful lady in front of him.

He swallowed, then forced himself to regain control. And by the time he dragged his eyes back to your face, he tightened his jaw before finally speaking.

"Forgive me, ____," Jungkook said, with a voice deeper than usual.

You let the silence linger, taking pleasure in the sight of Captain Jungkook so caught off guard. The shade of red spread from his ears to his face, and, to your surprise, you found yourself wishing it would last a little longer.

Then, feeling reckless, you purposely lowered your eyes to his trousers.

"Oh," you said, a small giggle escaping you, "it seems your little friend is awake, Captain."

The room, or “ensuite” as the owner called it, was so small that it took you only three steps to close the distance between you and Captain Jungkook. And now you stood close enough to him that Jungkook had to move his chin down to look into your eyes.

Neither of you moved away to distant yourselves. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you should have stepped away the moment you realised how close you were to him.

"You are rather improper for a lady," Jungkook said, coughing as if clearing his throat before continuing, "are you not?"

"Does that make all the ladies you've slept with improper?" you argued back, smiling at him.

Something changed in his expression, Jungkook was visibly surprised that you said it so plainly while standing so close to him.

"Where do you get your source of information?" he asked, and his eyes moved just briefly, to your mouth before looking back into your eyes, "I do not sleep around, my lady."

"Really?" you said, tilting your head to the side, not believing a word he said, “then all those stories about the women you’ve spent your nights with, the one I heard at Margot’s wedding, were all lies? I find that difficult to believe, Captain.”

"I did spend a night with them," Jungkook admitted, “but I never bedded any of them."

“I really do find that hard to believe,” you said. You were still close enough to see the muscle in his jaw tighten.

"You think the worst of me, my lady," Jungkook said, looking away.

"I think the worst of every soldier," you continued, "you are not special at all, Captain."

"I never said I was," Jungkook answered, "the word ‘special’ came out of your mouth, which means you must have thought of me as someone special at some point."

You scoffed, waving a hand to shoo him away, only for your fingers to brush his chest which made both of you go stiff.

“Suit yourself. But judging by the way your little friend has woken up, perhaps I am the special one after all. Were you thinking improper thoughts about me, Captain?”

“If you had paid attention to your biology lessons,” Jungkook replied, “you would know that this happens to men quite often, sometimes for no reason at all and even during battle.”

“It is merely a bodily reaction,” Jungkook continued, not wanting to lose this argument, “I thought you were knowledgeable, Lady Ashwell.”

"I'm sure of that, Captain," you said, clapping your hands together once as you turned back towards the bed, "your little friend moving entirely on its own, how fascinating."

“Who said it was little?” Jungkook asked.

You laughed as you sat down on the bed, “Soldiers and their pride!”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened again before he finally stepped away, “I will sleep elsewhere tonight,” he said, “with one of my officers.”

“Of course,” you said, satisfaction blooming in your chest at having won the argument with the Captain, “you would never be able to sleep on that sofa. Not when the thought of me turns you on so much.”

Jungkook laughed and the way he laughed told you just how close you have pushed him to the edge. “The thought of you,” he said, reaching for his coat and satchel, “repulses me, my lady.” He left without waiting for your reply, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary.

You remained seated on the bed, your heart still pounding loudly. You won, and it felt so good to have won against your betrothed.

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Jungkook went to Seokjin’s room three doors down and found him relaxing on a chair, his feet with boots still on laid on the table, and a half-empty bottle of beer in one hand.

“You are supposed to be resting,” Jungkook said, shutting the door behind him.

“I was resting,” Seokjin replied, cracking one eye open to look at him, “then my captain walked in looking all exhausted. What happened, Captain? Did she throw something at you? From what I have heard about her, I would not put it past her,” he chuckled. 

“Nothing happened,” Jungkook said as he sat down in the second chair, took the bottle from Seokjin’s hand without asking and drank from it.

Seokjin let out a whistle and grabbed his bottle again, "I see," he said, mostly to himself, "well. Goodnight, Captain. I’ll leave the right side of the bed to you."

Jungkook slept poorly that night, though he would never have admitted it to anyone.

Jungkook has always known you were clever. He knew it from the moment you called him an arrogant prick without even knowing his name. Owen’s report about your scheme with the convent only confirmed his thoughts, a plan clever enough that even the leaders of revolutionists needed a full minute to figure out whether it could actually go against the Crown.

Jungkook built his entire life around reading people, understanding what they wanted before they ever said it aloud. He assumed you would be no different.

But boy was he wrong.

Jungkook did not anticipate what you did in the park, or the way you defended yourself against the ladies at your sister’s wedding, or your plan to run away at all.

And he certainly did not anticipate you arguing with him just standing less than a foot away in a nearly transparent nightgown with your nipples staring right at him. 

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You woke up around six in the morning, after hearing movements of travellers moving around outside your “ensuite” bedroom. With Daisy absent, you dressed by yourself and went downstairs to the inn’s small dining area where bread and tea were already served for different kinds of travellers.

Jungkook’s men were gathered around a long dining table by the window. Seokjin sat among them, looking far more rested after the amount of alcohol he had drunk the night before. Jungkook sat at the head of the table, his expression remained calm as if nothing happened between the two of you last night before he stormed outside the room.

Several soldiers looked up when you entered and a few offered polite nods, there was no doubt that they now knew you were their Captain’s betrothed. 

You would have taken the empty seat at the far end of the table and said nothing at all, but Jungkook chose that moment to look up at you and his facial expression was so neutral that it felt almost like a challenge to you.

So, you smiled at him. “Oh, Captain,” you called, loudly enough that every man at the table looked up and even making the innkeeper’s wife pause mid-step while serving her guests, “did you manage to relieve your little friend last night, oh forgive me, your big friend as you corrected me?”

You smiled sweetly at him as you continued, “He seemed rather insistent when I last saw him. I imagine you and your hand had quite a night.”

The room went so completely silent that you thought time stopped itself. Every man suddenly became deeply and intensely interested in his breakfast, in anything that was not the Captain's face, really.

It was in the middle of that silence that Jimin arrived at the dining area, clearly unaware of whatever just happened. He sat on the empty seat next to Seokjin, glanced around before leaning closer to his comrade, "What did I miss?"

Seokjin, still struggling to contain his laughter, could only raise a hand and point weakly at his own Captain. 

Jimin followed the gesture made by his friend before asking out loud,  “Captain, what is happening?"

"Silence," Jungkook demanded, not looking up from his tea, "unless all of you would like to volunteer for another five rounds of drills this afternoon."

The room fell silent again, though you could clearly see several of the younger officers’ faces had gone red from the effort of holding back their laughter.

Jungkook set down his cup and looked at you with amusement and rage all at once, “Lady Ashwell,” he said, “you have a remarkable talent for starting conversations.”

“I try,” you said, smiling as you took the seat opposite him, “though I confess, I was merely concerned for your welfare, Captain. A man should not be left to deal with such urgent matters alone.”

“I assure you,” Jungkook replied, reaching for his tea again, “I handled it well.”

“Oh, I do not doubt it. You strike me as a man with plenty of experience managing his pleasures on his own, or by his own hand.”

One of the younger officers tried to disguise his laughter as a cough and failed miserably and Jungkook shot him a look that could kill him if looks could kill; and that was enough to put the young officer’s attention straight back to his plate. 

“You are enjoying this,” Jungkook said quietly, leaning closer towards you so his words would not carry down the table though by then the damage had already been done.

“Immensely,” you admitted, smiling wide enough to annoy him, “I did warn you, Captain. I intend to make this marriage far more inconvenient than you think.”

“You did warn me,” Jungkook said, almost admiring you and your cheeky acts, though he would sooner kill himself than admit it, “I confess, I did not expect it to happen in front of my men.”

“Consider it a preview of everything you have to look forward to,” you smiled, deliberately using the same words he had used in the carriage just days earlier.

Jungkook opened his mouth, no doubt ready with an equally witty response, but whatever he meant to say was lost when Seokjin finally recovered enough to lean across the table.

“Captain,” he said, “I believe I owe Lady Ashwell my sincerest gratitude. In all the years of service, I have never once seen you at a loss for words,” his grin widened, “perhaps the Queen’s matchmaking has some merit after all.”

“Finish your breakfast, Seokjin,” Jungkook warned.

“Yes, Captain!” Seokjin shouted, giving Jungkook an exaggerated salute.

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You were halfway through breakfast, still savouring the satisfaction of having embarrassed Jungkook, when the inn door opened.  The men at the table suddenly fell silent, drawing your attention toward the entrance out of curiosity. 

You turned around and froze as you saw your father standing in the doorway. 

Yes, your father. 

Every trace of amusement vanished at once. Of all the people in the world you might have expected to see that morning, your father was the very last one.

You assumed he would not even notice you were gone. The night before, you actually found some comfort in the fact that Jungkook was the one who caught you instead of him. But the sight of your father now, grimmer than you have ever seen him, entirely destroyed that feeling.

Your father loved all his daughters equally. He gave each of you an education under some of the most respected tutors in the kingdom, and all of you grew up to be intelligent women. It was a bold move especially since the women in the kingdom were rarely given education by their families.

But you have always been the difficult one. Your sisters were always willing to step back to preserve peace whenever there was an argument, while you were more likely to step forward and fight for peace yourself. 

You questioned everything, challenged anyone who tried to silence you and earned the title of troublemaker long before you even hit puberty. 

When you were twelve, your father once threatened to end your lessons if you continued arguing with everything your tutors taught you. You remembered what you said while arguing with him after the threat he made; “How can you expect your daughters to become intelligent if you refuse to let us think critically?”

That sentence silenced him, and your father never threatened to take away your rights to education to discipline you again. Now, standing in the inn, your father did not look angry and somehow, that was even way worse.

You would have preferred him to be shouting, you would have preferred him to be angry or throwing cushions at you. Anything would have been more comfortable than the terrible silence with which he looked at you.

"Papa," you said, standing up from your chair with a voice quieter than you intended it to be.

“_____,” your father called you as his gaze moved over the table, nodding at Jungkook, before continuing, “I would speak with you privately, with the captain as well.”

The word privately did nothing to calm your nerves down. You observed your father for some hint of what awaited you, but you couldn’t figure anything out.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Jungkook said, already standing up from his chair. 

Your father did not wait for you to agree. He turned around and headed for the stairs, and from the way he was walking, you understood that you were expected to follow whether you wished to or not.

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Your father walked into a random empty room upstairs and shut the door behind him with enough force to make you flinch, and without a word, he gestured towards the bed. You followed his gesture and sat on the bed while Jungkook sat on the armchair near the wall, choosing a position from which he could see everyone in the room. 

Your father refused to sit and just stood there between you and Jungkook, facing you with his back almost entirely to the captain. For one long minute which felt like hours, your father said nothing. He merely looked at you with exhaustion across his face.

“Are you not too old to be running away?” he asked at last, clearly furious now, “are you not able to use words to tell me what you want, _____? Must you resort to running away every time things do not go your way?”

"That is unfair because you won't hear me out, Papa."

“Then let me hear you out now,” your father's voice cracked slightly, worn thin by the journey, by being worried over you, and perhaps by whatever conversation he already endured with your mother the night before, “tell me why you ran away.”

"I don't want to marry this soldier," you simply replied.

"Why?"

"Must there be a reason?" you shot back.

“You need no reason to dislike a man,” your father replied, “but you seem unwilling to consider that this marriage may not be as terrible as you believe.”

Your father continued before you could interrupt, “This is not only about whether you like him. I do believe that is important but the royal decree has been made. Refusing it would not merely embarrass you, it would stain this family. A reputation built over generations could be undone in a single moment because you are too stubborn to look beyond your first impression.”

His voice then softened, “I once called Jungkook’s father my friend. When the nobles all demanded that I step away from him, I agreed and for all these years, I have wondered whether I failed him when he needed me most.”

Jungkook froze in the armchair as he heard the Duke of Ashwell talking about his guilt. He spent years believing the Duke of Ashwell abandoned his father without regret, just as the rest of the nobility did. He never imagined that the man would confess it out loud in front of him. For a moment, Jungkook did not know what to do with the anger he held for so long as it was always easier to believe the duke simply never cared.

Your father continued to say his piece,  “I watched his son become the man he is with no one to guide or protect him and yet everyone in the kingdom has found something worthy in the Captain. Everyone except you, who decided what sort of man he was because of your belief about soldiers.”

“Then perhaps you should have stood beside his father years ago,” you said quietly, before adding, “but Papa, you will not correct that failure by marrying your daughter away to his son. Perhaps Captain Jeon is worthy and maybe I have judged him unfairly. But everyone else was allowed to judge his worth by themselves, while I was told that my entire life had already been decided for me. I was never given the choice to judge him by myself.”

You glanced briefly at Jungkook before looking back into your father’s eyes, “You speak of duty and reputation, but none of those things answer the only question that matters to me.”

“Why must I spend the rest of my life paying for a choice you regret? Why must I obey the will of royals who know so little about me that they believe they can choose whom I should marry?” you questioned back.

“Lower your voice, Lady _____,” Jungkook’s interruption cut sharply through the room. He had been silent until then, but now his expression was grim, “we may be behind a closed door, but we are still in a public inn, my lady. If anyone overhears you speaking against the Crown, you could be hanged for treason.”

Your father’s eyes snapped towards Jungkook, “That will be enough, Captain,” he said with a calm voice yet the authority behind it was unmistakable, “my daughter is speaking recklessly, not treasonously.”

“My grace, she is speaking loudly enough for others on the other side of this wall to conclude differently,” Jungkook replied.

Your father looked back at you before saying, “The Captain is right about that much. You may despise the decree, and you may say so to me behind closed doors, but the Crown will not care whether what you are fighting for is justified, it will only care that you dared to question its authority.”

“So I am expected to accept my future being decided for me, but I am not allowed to protest?”

For a moment, your father said nothing, then he finally sat on the study chair just between the sofa and the bed where you sat,, “I am asking you to be careful, because there are people who would gladly use that anger against you.”

Your father’s eyes moved briefly towards Jungkook before returning to you, “I cannot undo the decree. But Captain Jungkook and I can listen to what you wish for from your life after this marriage. That is more than the Crown will ever offer you, so stop treating me as if I am the one taking your freedom from you.”

You looked from your father to Jungkook. The both of them gave you a small nod, and you lowered your gaze to your hands as you started weighing his words in. 

You realised then, if the marriage could not be avoided, then at least it would not happen without your consent having some place in it.

“If I am to marry him,” you said, breaking the silence, “then I will lay ground on some terms.”

You raised your eyes to look back into your father’s eyes, “I have eight conditions, Papa, and I expect every one of them to be agreed to in writing before I stand at the altar.”

Your father blinked at you and from the sofa, Jungkook leaned forward slightly, clearly showing his interest in whatever you were about to say. 

“Conditions?” your father repeated.

“Eight of them to be exact,” you said as you reached for the small notebook in your bag. 

You have already written these conditions the night before, when you couldn’t fall asleep. You’ve written them long before you thought this meeting would happen. You did not expect to need them so soon, but the past week taught you that it was better to always have a plan ready.

“I am surprised you thought to write them down,” Jungkook said.

“You will continue to be surprised, Captain,” your father muttered, “my daughter has always been full of them.”

"First," you said, ignoring your father’s blasphemous commentary, "I will have control over my own private income. My allowance will remain mine, and if I choose to start a business, any money I earn from it will be untouched and unsupervised by my husband. I will spend it as I see fit.”

If this marriage was to be a cage, you would not hand Jungkook the key as well. You have seen and heard too many women realise far too late that a husband’s kindness was often another form of control. The money given to them was never truly theirs; it came with expectations, restrictions, and the constant threat that it could always be taken away from them.

You have no intention of living that way, not with Jungkook whom you suspected wanted something from this arranged marriage.

Your father looked at Jungkook, waiting for him to argue or agree with your first term. Jungkook just nodded his head at you, accepting the condition without any argument. 

Truthfully, he found it almost amusing. He has no interest in your allowance and never considered controlling how you spent it. Still, a wife with her own money was a wife who could act without his permission. You could hire your own men to observe Jungkook, fund your own inquiries on him, and pursue plans he knew nothing about. 

It was not a small thing that he gave up, especially to Jungkook who led a secret organisation with the intent on overthrowing the Crown. He just hoped you would never get too suspicious of him to even think of investigating him.

“Second,” you continued, “I will retain full control of my personal library and may add to it as I please, including books forbidden by the Crown. I do not want to need anyone’s permission to choose what to read.”

Jungkook accepted the condition as readily as the first. But he found himself wondering what other forbidden books you intended to collect. Surely there could not be many more stunts you could pull simply by reading a book.

“Third, I keep Daisy. She comes with me regardless of whatever staff already serves your household, and she answers to no one but me,” you said, looking right into Jungkook’s eyes as you laid your third terms. 

You would not enter Jungkook’s home surrounded entirely by people loyal to him. You knew you would need at least one person there who was loyal to only you.

Jungkook thought about the condition for a moment and an outsider devoted solely to you would complicate the arrangements already being made to keep certain parts of the household hidden. He noted to himself that Walter would need to make discreet inquiries about this Daisy.

Still, he gave you a slight nod, “Alfred will remain the head of the household,” Jungkook said, “he has served my family since before I was born, and I will not replace him. But there is nothing unusual about a married lady retaining her own companion. Daisy may come with you and continue to serve you directly.”

Your father recognised the name, and asked, “Alfred is still there?”

“He is,” Jungkook answered.

A faint smile formed on your father’s face, the first genuine smile since he entered the inn, “Then I must see him. He spent more than one night helping your father and I find our way to our rooms after we had drunk too much.”

Jungkook let out a small laugh, “I was not aware of that.”

“Then I believe there are many things Alfred has had the good sense not to tell you,” your father said as he laughed. 

You smiled seeing your father reminiscing about his past, and once their amusement faded, you continued listing out your conditions, “Fourth, I may refuse any social engagement I wish, without having to justify myself to you or anyone else.”

You would not be paraded through society like so many other wives, smiling obediently beside their husbands as if they had nowhere else they wanted to be other than her husband’s side.

Jungkook found the condition almost too convenient. The fewer social engagements you attended, the less often he would be expected to accompany you and the more time he would have to slip away trying to get into the nobles’ secret meetings unnoticed.

“That should not be a problem,” Jungkook replied, “I spend much of my time with the regiment anyway.”

You nodded at him before continuing again, “Fifth, if I ever find you to be unfaithful to me, Captain, I will retain the rights for a formal separation since a divorce is not something the Church would allow. This separation will be with terms protecting both my name and my income.”

The room fell silent and the air suddenly became heavier. Your father’s jaw tightened at the fifth term you just said out loud.

Jungkook thought the condition revealed more about what you believed of him than anything you said outright. Against his better judgement, he found himself wanting to correct you, “You truly think very little of me, my lady,” he said at last.

“You are a soldier and a duke,” you replied, “it is hardly uncommon for these types of men to keep mistresses.”

Your father’s expression darkened, but you continued, “Though I do not particularly care. My condition only applies if I discover it, so long as you are discreet, I suppose you will be safe.”

“You are being ridiculous!” your father said, raising his voice, “why would you permit your husband to keep mistresses as long as you remain unaware of them?”

“It is an arranged marriage, Papa. It is no secret that neither of us wanted it. If the captain finds himself unsatisfied, he may seek the company of other women and if I am unsatisfied, I may do the same with other men.”

Jungkook’s expression hardened then, “Change the condition.”

You looked at him, puzzled by his sudden change of emotion, “To what exactly?”

“If either of us is unfaithful, the other may ask for separation,” he said, “those are the only terms, word by word, to which I will agree.”

“Thank goodness one of you is thinking rationally,” your father muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossed out the original term and amended the condition in your notebook, “Fine. It applies to both of us,” you looked back at Jungkook, “do we agree?”

“Yes,” he replied.

"Good. Let’s move on to the sixth condition," you continued, "you will never pressure me to attend a war memorial,  military parade, or any celebration related to the army.”

You wrote this down last night as you will never ever stand beside him and smile at men in uniform being praised for what they've done when there is nothing to be praised at all.

Jungkook agreed to this condition almost gratefully, though not for any reason you would have guessed. The fewer military functions you attended, the less likely you were to find yourself beside men who might say more than they should. 

“Seventh, my letters will remain private. You will not open, intercept, or withhold any letter addressed to me, and I do not want you to question whom I choose to write to.”

You have seen husbands treat marriage as a way to inspect and control every corner of their wives’ lives, so you would not allow Jungkook the same authority over you. “If I am expected to live beneath your roof, then I must be allowed to have thoughts and conversations that do not belong to your ears,” you stated.

For the first time since you began reading your conditions, Jungkook could not answer immediately. A wife whose letters he could not inspect presented a considerable risk to the revolutionists. You could correspond with anyone without his knowledge or send information beyond the estate regarding whatever you might find later on. But refusing would only confirm every suspicion you might already hold about him.

“Agreed,” Jungkook said at last, “your letters will remain your own privacy.”

“And eighth,” you said, giving your father and Jungkook a small smile before continuing, “you are forbidden from smoking within twenty feet of me at all times, in every room, be it outside or inside a building or carriage, wherever we are unfortunate enough to share a space, you will not smoke near me.”

Your father let out another laugh, some tension finally leaving his body, even Jungkook’s mouth twitched after listening to your eight condition.

“Exactly twenty feet, my lady?” he asked, a small smirk forming across his face, “should I carry a ruler to ensure I do not overstep your rule?”

“I would appreciate the diligence, Captain.”

"I shall keep that in mind," Jungkook answered with amusement in his voice.

Your father looked between the two of you, the tension finally leaving his shoulders, "Is that all eight, then?"

“That is all eight,” you nodded as you closed the notebook on your lap, “I want them properly written as a legal contract witnessed by lawyers and signed before the same lawyers as well. All of these will need to be done before I make a single vow at the altar.”

“I will see to it myself,” your father said. He almost sounded so proud of you somehow, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. 

Jungkook remained silent as you gathered your notebook and stood up, you seemed satisfied as if you just won the biggest and most important game in your life.

Jungkook couldn’t help but think how he entered this arrangement expecting an easy pawn on the chessboard; an obedient and easily moved piece wherever the game required. Yet with every term you laid out just now, Jungkook was beginning to understand how badly he misjudged you.

You were not a piece to be moved, you were another player entirely.

And Jungkook could not yet decide whether that made you an obstacle to his plans or worse, the greatest threat to the revolutionists.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

After you laid out your conditions, your father insisted that you leave with him immediately. Jungkook caught you sighing and saw you giving him a small nod before walking away without so much as a thank you or goodbye. Not long after you left, Jungkook and Seokjin and Jimin took their leave as well. The journey back to the city took them around five hours by car. 

Jungkook arrived at the Jeon townhouse around four in the afternoon. He was surprised at how exhausted he felt when he barely did anything to strain his body; all he did in the morning was tending to you and your father and yet he was exhausted. 

He had asked his soldiers to leave after breakfast and send out word for the rest of the revolutionists leaders to gather at his townhouse. And by the time he arrived, his study was full with his most trusted people who were sitting across different seats in the room.

“So,” Jungkook said as he sat down on his desk, “the marriage is proceeding. We managed to stop Lady Ashwell from running away and we really ought to thank God and the Duchess. Lady Ashwell did not suspect anything out of the ordinary.”

“The lady also laid out a few terms she demanded must be followed throughout the marriage. I have agreed to these conditions, hence the marriage will take place in just a few weeks time,” Jungkook continued.

“Terms?” Hana asked, confused by what Captain Jungkook exactly meant by it. 

Jungkook had thought about the conditions you stated on his entire way back to the city. And he decided that some of the terms you demanded did not need to be mentioned to the rest of the leaders. The clauses such as unrestricted access in your own library, not smoking whenever you were near, staying faithful, or not wanting to engage with military events and social engagements, did not seem urgent enough to be mentioned.

To him, these terms would be best to be kept between the two of you. He sadly couldn’t say the same about the rest of the terms you had. 

“Yes. Some of these conditions she mentioned will undoubtedly affect us which is why I called all of you here for a meeting,” Jungkook continued, but he was cut off by Seokjin before he could start explaining the conditions you have mentioned. 

“Oh, it sounds intriguing, I can not wait to hear what she had planned,” Seokjin grinned widely, while tapping the table with his two fingers.

“Well if you would just be silent then Captain Jungkook would be able to explain what these conditions are, Seokjin,” Jimin sneered at his peer.

Jungkook sighed, ignoring two of his men bickering with each other just across the table, “First, she insists on keeping her lady-in-waiting. I believe her name was Daisy.” 

Jungkook was prepared for the reaction coming from the leaders around the room. It wasn’t a small thing for Jungkook to agree to having a stranger who is not a part of the revolutionists to live under his roof. 

“Now why would you go and agree to such a thing, Captain?” Kilian sighed in disbelief, before continuing, “have you considered what it would mean to let a servant loyal only to her, move freely through this household?” 

“I don’t think it would be much of a problem,” Dennis chimed in, “surely a servant would always end up on our side once they realise what we stand for.”

“Not every servant is so easily swayed, Captain Dennis. If Daisy spends most of her time with the Ashwell household, a family known for treating their staff well, she may view our cause differently from an ordinary servant would,” Hana argued back. 

“That is true,” Owen said, agreeing with Hana as he sat forward in his seat, “servants who are treated kindly, more often than not, would end up living in a similar sheltered world as their lords. We will need to learn more about this lady-in-waiting.”

“Walter,” Jungkook called out, turning towards him, “you deal with different kinds of people. See to it. I want a report about what kind of person Daisy is, especially her political beliefs, if she has any.”

“I can have it ready within the week,” Walter answered.

“Now that’s settled, what other conditions did she give you, Captain?” Jimin asked, his pen stopping midway, hovering above a page in his notebook as he waited for Jungkook to continue. 

“She demanded control over her income. I have thought a great deal about it. My concern is ensuring she is not spending her money on anything that might put us at risk,” Jungkook explained.

“Hana will be the right person for that,” Kilian answered, “what if she were to cross paths with Lady Ashwell accidentally? Hana works as a clerk for the tax office, hence she could offer to become her financial clerk. We would then have clarity over where her money is going.”

Jungkook smiled at Captain Kilian for what he just came up with was just too clever.

“Very clever, Captain K,” Jungkook stated before turning his attention towards Hana, “you should not be seen in the townhouse until then. Can you make this arrangement happen?” 

Hana thought about it for a moment, “So you would like me to accidentally run into her, earn her trust, and offer to manage her finances?”

“Precisely,” Kilian answered with a smile on his face. He ought to be proud of his plan; it kills two birds with one stone. Hana would not only have some degree of control over your finances, she would also become someone you trust and rely on. By the time the revolutionists need access to anything more sensitive, you will see Hana as a trusted ally.

Hana nodded, the plan seemed clear and easy enough to follow. After all, theater and acting were her favorite pastimes. It wouldn’t be a first for her to become an actress for the revolutionists. “Consider it done,” she answered. 

“Were there any more of these terms?” Seokjin asked, “she really is smart isn’t she?” 

Jungkook nodded, “Her final condition was that her letters remain private; I am not to open it, inspect it, or question who she writes to.”

“Captain,” Jimin carefully said, “do you understand what you have just agreed to?”

“You are not usually one to act so reckless, Captain,” Seokjin chimed in.

“How do you intend to manage these letters which could possibly turn into a risk for us? How do we intend to manage that information regarding the estate remains within the estate?” Walter asked, clearly disagreeing with the Captain’s choice of letting your letters remain private.

“Alfred has always been responsible for receiving and delivering my letters, so he may be of assistance to her,” Jungkook answered, “he can keep record of who delivers these letters and take note of the seals without interfering with it.”

“Let us not place too much pressure on Jungkook. As he said, I believe Alfred can help us with this matter,” Dennis joined in, finally someone on his side, “it was the best agreement Jungkook could have secured under the circumstances. Had he refused even one of her terms, she might have begun to suspect him even more.”

The meeting ended soon after, with each of the revolutionists' leaders clear on what they were expected to do next. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Two weeks before the wedding, the Duchess of Ashwell had proven to be a more demanding and strict commander than any general Jungkook has ever known. 

During the first week of wedding preparations, you and Jungkook were summoned to a meeting to organise the wedding’s colour theme, from your attire, his attire, and even the colours the guests would be allowed to wear. Truth be told, Jungkook couldn’t even care less if the guests arrived wearing nothing but their nightgowns. But it was important to the Ashwell that the wedding be grander than either of your sisters’, especially since it was arranged by royal decree and the King and Queen themselves might be attending. 

Jungkook did not really participate much during this meeting, offering nothing more than a nod whenever someone asked for his opinion. And this angered Cecily, the Duchess of Ashwell, and she confronted him after the meeting ended. 

“Captain,” your mother said, looking right into his eyes, “this wedding is meant to honour your parents as well. You must take it seriously. Since your mother is no longer here to take part in these preparations, it is even more important that you do. This wedding belongs to the House of Jeon just as much as it does to the House of Ashwell.”

Jungkook did not argue with her, and from that point onward, he made an effort to involve himself in the upcoming meetings. And even though most men rarely take such an active role in wedding preparations. It made sense for him to do so. Just like what Cecily said, his mother was no longer here to represent the House of Jeon, and in her absence, that responsibility fell to Jungkook.

Then two days after the colour theme for the wedding was decided, your mother dragged the two of you from one florist to another. The three of you spent the entire day surrounded by flowers, smelling different arrangements and debating which ones suited the chosen theme best.

Another two days later, the decision of the guest list must be made, though it was almost pointless to even have a meeting. Your mother eventually invited what seemed to be the entire Kingdom of Leon. Jungkook did not object to it since a crowded wedding meant plenty of opportunities for him and the revolutionists to speak and network with nobles without drawing suspicion.

And today marked the final stage of your mother’s first week of wedding preparation project. 

Your mother invited a baker she claimed to be the best in the Kingdom of Leon to the Jeon Townhouse. The baker then had set up an entire table of different cake samples in every flavour and filling, and both you and Jungkook had to work through the tray one cake at a time.

“So which cake flavour do you like best, Captain?” your mother asked, her pen hovering over a sheet of paper listing all the flavours and fillings that the baker gave her.

“Any suits me, Duchess,” Jungkook answered, his sense of smell still overwhelmed by the trip to the countless florists shops days ago, “I’m not picky with my cake.”

“That answer will not do, I am expecting an absolute answer,” your mother said without looking up from her paper, “you have to pick one.”

Jungkook took a small breath and thought about it again, “I liked the lemon and raspberry, it is considerably less sweet than the rest of the cakes yet still tastes rich.”

“Yes, I thought the same. The lemon and raspberry is delicious,” you said, agreeing with the Captain. 

It’s been surprising to you how often you and Jungkook have been agreeing over the past week. In nearly every meeting, the two of you somehow chose the same colours, flowers, and now even the same cake. 

It was also nice to see Jungkook taking your mother’s warning during the first day of wedding preparation seriously; rather than pushing back. He accepted her words with unexpected grace and made a genuine effort to be present in the preparations later on.

Though, truth be told, you could not tell whether the two of you truly share the same opinions or whether both of you were simply choosing whatever would bring each meeting to end quickly.

“Good! Lemon and raspberry it is,” your mother stated with excitement, even clapping her hands together once.

Alfred appeared in the doorway with a letter in his hand, right after your mother announcemeced the final choice of cake. 

“Captain,” Alfred said, bowing to you and your mother first before continuing, “this letter arrived to you. and the messenger said it requires immediate attention.”

Jungkook didn’t reach for the letter right away, he took one good glance at the envelope before rising from his chair and taking the letter from Alfred.

You caught a quick glimpse of the seal on the envelope but didn’t notice them. It was a foreign and unfamiliar seal, nothing like the Kingdom of Leon’s signature seal. 

“Forgive me, Duchess, and Lady _____. This is a matter with the regiment and I must attend to it,” Jungkook muttered and bowed before leaving the tearoom with the 

Your mother looked at you, her pen still hovering over the list of cakes, as she circled lemon and raspberry flavour. 

“Well,” she said, “that was rather abrupt.”

You nodded at her and you could not help but find yourself wondering what exactly was in the letter with the foreign seal that needed his immediate attention.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook did not open the letter until he reached his study and closed the door behind him.

He knew who sent it the moment he saw the seal pressed into the envelope. The crest belonged to the Kingdom of Castile, one of the Kingdom of Leon’s closest allies, and a kingdom that once fought beside them against Navarre. 

There was only one person in Castile who would write to him and demand immediate attention: Jung Hoseok.

Jungkook met him at the military academy when they were thirteen. Even though they came from different kingdoms, the two of them quickly became close friends. Over the years, that friendship grew deeper into brotherhood and even an alliance built around the same ambition; both men wanted to see their monarchies overthrown.

Hoseok’s position made him even more valuable as he serves as the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard and the right-hand man of the King of Castile. He has access to nearly everything that happened within the royal court which more often than not, extended into information around the Kingdom of Leon as well.

Jungkook took a deep breath before breaking the seal and unfolding the letter:

Jungkook,  I have kept looking into your parents’ death and I am writing to you because the trail, at last, has led somewhere.  I do not say this lightly and would not say it at all if I did not believe it to be true. This was something I heard during a private conversation with the King of Castile. Aldric once tried to pursue your mother, before the previous Duke of Jeon ever did. He was already married to Seraphine at the time and was expecting your mother to be his mistress. He pursued her persistently but your mother refused him time and again. This was not something everyone know of. I believe Seraphine silenced the rumours almost immediately. Not long after, your mother met your father, and the rest of that story you already know.  Aldric did not forget her rejection, nor did he ever forgive her for making him feel inferior to your father. When your father chose to marry a commoner, the court’s and nobles’ outrage was real, but it was Aldric who fueled it even more. I now no longer believe that it was all the court’s doing. The nobles might have despised their marriage, but I believe your parents’ deaths were the work of the Crown. I tell you this not to wound you further and I do not yet have physical or concrete proof that he ordered it. But I believe now more than ever that the work you and your men are doing is not only necessary, but owed, justified, and long overdue. Whatever I can do to help from where I live, you only have to ask. Your brother, always, Jung Hoseok.

Jungkook read the letter three times before punching down on the desk with his fist so hard that his knuckles started bleeding.

The Crown ordered his parents’ death over a marriage and now that same Crown has decided whom Jungkook should marry. It was as if the lives of their people were pieces on a board for the King and Queen to move whenever it suited them.

People across the Kingdom of Leon were starving, families were losing their homes, and corruption has been spreading through every level of the kingdom.

Yet the Crown seemed more concerned with controlling the marriages of nobles than caring for its own people.

Overthrowing the Crown has never been truly political. For Jungkook, it was and will always be personal.

And there was some bitter kind of justice in that; his parents were murdered by the Crown because of their marriage, and now their son’s marriage would help bring down the same Crown to its end.

What goes around truly does come around. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You remembered the first time you saw him.

Your sister, Suji, was two years older than you and ever since you were ten, she brought her friends home nearly every weekend.

There were four of them: Jimin, Yejin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

They were inseparable and exactly the kind of friendship you only ever read about in books or watched in movies. On weekends, your house was always filled with their voices and you never minded it, especially since two-years was not much of an age gap, hence you were included in almost everything they did.

That only changed after they graduated from high school and scattered across the country. Even then, the distance never truly separated them. They would stay in touch, called regularly, and planned a holiday together at least once a year.

As a child, being included in their group made you feel important. There was something exciting and cool about being ten and spending most of your time with older kids.

It did not take long for you to realise that Suji was the one holding them all together and her friends always orbited around her without noticing they were doing it. That never surprised you because Suji has always been the main character wherever she went, both at home and everywhere else.

You never resented her for it because she was the kindest sister you could have asked for. She never made you feel smaller than her, she invited you to parties you were too young to attend, defended you when Taehyung teased you about your missing front tooth, and let you borrow her clothes without ever complaining about it.

Her friends were kind to you too.

Jimin and Yejin were the first ones you met. You remembered them sitting beside you at the kitchen table, patiently helping you with your maths homework. Now they were married, with a daughter who was as cheerful as the two of them.

Then there was Taehyung, around whom fourteen-year-old Suji started acting differently. She became shy in his presence, more careful with her words, and she would glance at him now and then whenever she thought no one was looking. They were married now and, as far as you could tell, still having the time of their lives together.

And then there was Jungkook.

You, Suji, and the rest of her friends had been playing hide-and-seek throughout the house one Saturday afternoon, and Jungkook was the seeker. You hid behind the living-room curtain, holding your breath as you listened for his footsteps.

You were certain you would be caught first, because you barely had time to find a proper hiding place.

And you were right, Jungkook did find you first.

He pulled the curtain aside just enough to see you. But instead of dragging you out and gloating the way Taehyung or Jimin would have done, he merely smiled at you and ruffled your hair.

Then he let the curtain fall back into place and walked away to find the others.

You stayed behind the curtain for another full minute, your heart beating so loud that you considered asking your mom to call an ambulance.

At ten years old, what was that if not a knight in shining armour?

You have been in love with him ever since.

By fourteen, you assumed the feeling would have disappeared. It was supposed to be puppy love; something harmless and embarrassing that you would laugh about with Suji over wine in ten years time. But it did not just disappear like you thought it would. 

In high school, Jungkook became one of the popular boys. His face made insecure boys resent him and hopeful girls imagine they had a chance with him. Yet he never seemed interested in any of it, he only cared about being around Suji and the rest of their friends, and he never seemed to mind having you around either.

Well, mostly because you were his best friend’s little sister.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

At fifteen, you finally told Suji about your little embarrassing crush. 

She was not surprised when you confessed that you had a crush on one of her best friends. Jungkook was handsome too so it wasn’t really weird. You learned much later that she had known for years, but that night, she only laughed softly and said, “I’ll help you get together with him when you’re a little older, okay?”

Not long after you told her, Jungkook stopped coming to the house.

The rest of the group continued gathering in your living room every weekend as loud and inseparable as ever, but his usual seat was always empty. You still caught glimpses of him in the school hallways. He never said hello, though that wasn’t really strange since he rarely greeted you at school even before he stopped coming around your house.

Then you noticed that Jungkook started spending time with a different crowd. And it happened around the same time Suji and Taehyung finally started dating. These two quickly became the school’s “it” couple, with every photograph of them posted online always accompanied with the same ‘#CoupleGoals’. 

But them getting together never surprised you.

What surprised you was that the moment Suji and Taehyung got together, Jungkook noticed you again, but not the way you wanted him to. The time your paths crossed again, he spat onto the ground in front of you and looked at you as if the sight of you disgusted him.

You didn’t understand it. You’ve adored him for five years by then, and you had no idea what you did to deserve that kind of hatred.

When you asked Jimin whether you somehow offended Jungkook, he only sighed and told you not to take it personally. And that Jungkook started spending time with wealthy, arrogant boys, and he has changed. 

To you, it made sense for him to hang out with a different crowd, especially since he came from a different tax bracket than you did.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You were twenty-two when you received the phone call from your mother. 

By this time, Jungkook was somewhere not in your life; he was just a name that came up at your school reunion and nowhere else. You’ve heard things about him; that he helped his father ran their family’s company, then him eventually becoming the CEO. 

Your mother has been a single mother almost your whole life, and she has never once, in twenty-two years, called you sounding like she was preparing for you to leave her life.

"Can you come home?" she asked, "tonight, if you can. I need to talk to you about something and I don't want to do it over the phone."

You asked if everything was okay, and she said she'll explain when you were there, which is somehow worse than any answer she could have given you, and you spent the whole drive over with your stomach tightened in knots.

Your mom was waiting at the kitchen table when you arrived, two cups of tea already going cold in front of her like she made them an hour ago and forgot they existed the moment she poured them. 

“Mom?” you asked as you sat down in front of her, “this is reminding me of horror movies,” you chuckled. 

"I need to tell you something," she said, "and I need you to not hate me."

You immediately became silent and didn’t even dare to say anything. So you let her say whatever she wanted to say in her own time, because she seemed as if she was going to burst into tears.

"I owe some family a great deal of money," she said, finally opening up after what felt like fifteen minutes, "forty million dollars. It's to the Jeon's family. Jeon Jungkook, do you remember him? From when you were kids, Suji's friend.."

You couldn’t help the gasp that followed, "How?" was all you could manage to respond with. 

forty million dollars was more money than you have ever seen in your life. Your mother was an investment banker at a small firm, so your family has never been poor, but you were nowhere near forty-million-dollars rich. But then, compared to the Jeon family, you might as well have been poor.

“I’d been at the firm for three years by then,” your mother said, her eyes fixed on the table, “I was young enough to be desperate for a win. I wanted to prove myself, especially in rooms full of men who called me sweetheart and honey during meetings and constantly tease me.”

She paused, playing with her fingers in her lap, “One of my colleagues brought me a deal. It was a startup that was supposedly going to be bought out within eighteen months. It was the kind of tip that could make someone’s career if it worked.”

“And you believed him?” you asked.

“I believed in the startup,” she corrected, “enough to pass it on to a client I’d been trying to win over for months. Jungkook’s parents. I told them it was a sure thing,” your mother said, her voice slightly breaking on the word sure, “I wasn’t lying to them. I believed it too.”

She looked down at her hands, “That’s the part that still keeps me awake. I didn’t do it because I wanted to hurt anyone. I did it because I wanted them to trust me. I wanted it so badly.”

“And it failed?”

“Not at first. For a few months, everything looked promising, then the company’s lead investor pulled out after a fraud investigation. None of us saw it coming and the entire company collapsed within six weeks.”

She paused before continuing, “Jungkook’s parents lost almost everything they invested. And because I was the one who brought them the deal and told them their money would be safe, they came to me. forty million dollars was what they believed they would have earned if the deal had succeeded, added to everything they had lost.”

“They expected you to pay all of that?” you asked in disbelief.

“They said I could take as long as I needed and I could repay it at whatever pace I could manage, and they would never tell anyone what happened,” she said, before finally looking up at you.

"How much have you paid so far?" you ask, though some part of you already knows the answer will hurt you.

"Five hundred thousand. A little more, actually, slowly but steadily I was paying it off, but it has been years since the deal, ____," she said, her eyes filled with tears. 

You have never seen her crying this much, not even at your father's funeral where she held back her tears for her children, "I didn't want you or Suji to know. It’s a debt I don’t want the two of you to carry.”

"And the rest of it?" you finally asked, "you wouldn't have called me here just to tell me about the debt or the amount. There's something else, right?"

Your mother's hands tighten in her lap, "They want to erase the whole forty million debt, if.. "

"If what?" you asked nervously.

"If you marry their son, Jungkook."

You laughed at your mother, because what she just said sounded like an opening line of a story or a cringe fan fiction you read on Wattpad years ago. 

Then you looked at her face and understood she wasn’t trying to fool you at all.

“Mom,” you quietly said, your voice shaking out of anger, confusion, and sadness, you couldn’t really tell. 

“I barely know him anymore. We haven’t spoken in years, and he’s not the boy from my childhood anymore. I don’t even know who he is now.”

“I know,” she said, and she sounded as if she dreaded saying the idea aloud, for even thinking of asking you to do this, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for even considering asking this of you,” her voice trembled, “I’ve thought it over in my head for weeks, and I feel so bad as a mother, it feels as if I’m selling you to fix my own mistake.”

She drew in a breath, “It’s fine, you don’t need to do this. I’ll find another way. I will not make you responsible for a debt that belongs to me.”

“Jungkook is a good-looking man, Mom. He’s rich too and he could have anyone he wanted,” you hesitated before asking further, “so why would he agree to this? Why me?”

“He’s refused everyone his parents have introduced him to,” she said quietly, “for years, apparently he has refused half a dozen women. From what I understand, he turned every one of them down.”

She paused before adding, “But this time, his parents told me it was his idea,” her eyes lifted to yours, “he chose you.”

You thought it was bullshit, why would Jungkook choose you out of all people? It was clear as days that his eyes were never on yours, and all of the sudden he has chosen you? 

Jungkook was an old friend you spent years hoping never to see again. What could someone like him possibly want from you now?

You couldn’t help but wonder if being chosen meant being wanted by Jungkook, or if you were simply the easiest answer to him; something he agreed to because saying yes was easier than arguing with his parents over a marriage he did not care enough to refuse.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You said yes.

Because when you did the math more than once that week, lying awake in the dark, trying to picture your mom at seventy still working even during the weekends to pay down a debt that is almost impossible to pay off. 

You just couldn’t make yourself accept a future that looks like that when you have the power to end it with a single word.

You said yes because you have spent your whole life being the person who helps everyone around you. The little sister who never made anyone feel lacking in anything, the daughter who learned early not to add her own weight to a household already struggling with just one income. You were always the person who takes care of others when they are sick and never asks anyone to do the same for you.

It is the only thing you have ever known what to do. And some part of you just does not know how to look at someone who needs you and say no, even when the person who needs you most is yourself.

Then there is the other reason.

 That small part of you that is still ten years old, still standing behind a curtain while Jungkook smiled at you, has never fully stopped hoping there might be a version of this where Jungkook looks at you without hatred.

You know how ridiculous that sounded.

You know it is not the kind of reason anyone sensible enough should agree to a marriage. But you were ten when you fell for him, and somehow, despite everything, a part of that girl never really went away. When your mother said Jungkook had chosen you, that little girl came rushing back.

You understand, even as you agreed to the marriage, that this is a stupid reason to ruin your life. Yet you said yes anyway, because you have never been as rational as you would like to believe when it comes to Jungkook.

Because some part of you would rather walk willingly into the fire than spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened if you had turned away.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Two weeks later you were standing in a hotel lobby, your hands were trembling despite the summer heat outside, because his mother suggested or insisted, really, that the two of you meet before anything was finalized. 

You spent forty minutes deciding what to wear and hated yourself for even caring about it.

Jungkook was already there when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with his jacket off and his sleeves pushed up, and his phone in his hand. He didn't stand up when you sat down.

Up close, he still looked familiar, only older now. He had tattoos all over his right arm and there was very little left of the boy who used to smile at you like the two of you shared a secret.

"You're late," Jungkook said, not even looking up to look at you.

"By only four minutes," you answered.

"Four minutes I didn't have."

"Then you should've told your mother not to schedule this in the first place," you scoffed.

That finally made him look up from his phone. Something changed across his face, you could tell that Jungkook was surprised that you answered back at him instead of backing down like he seemed to expect you to do.

You remembered, vaguely, a boy who was gentle to you. There was very little of him left in the man frowning at you now, and you hated that some part of you still mourned the loss of someone you barely knew anymore.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Jungkook asked. 

"Oh, I remember you," you said, “though you used to be nicer."

"You used to be shorter," Jungkook said, rolling his eyes at you.

You ordered coffee neither of you touched and spent the next forty minutes arguing about the wedding neither of you wanted. 

And some small, foolish part of you enjoyed that meeting because arguing with Jungkook meant he was looking at you. It meant you mattered enough to annoy him. 

It meant, for those forty minutes at least, you managed to take up space in his mind.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You married him six weeks later, on a bright Saturday in August, in a dress that cost more than your mother's monthly salary, in a ballroom filled with flowers your mother-in-law chose without consulting you.

The man standing in front of you was not the boy who once found you behind a curtain during a hide-and-seek game. 

Jungkook shook your hand instead of kissing you when the officiant told him he could. He even came up with a charming joke about how shaking hands was an inside joke between the two of you, which made the room laugh.

When you told Suji and Taehyung that you were marrying Jungkook, neither of them believed you. It happened too quickly, you have never told them you were in a relationship, there was no engagement or anything that might have explained how the two of you have gone from never speaking to planning a wedding.

You could not tell them about the debt. You didn’t want them to be angry with your mom, so you insisted it was a long time coming. You told them you have always loved Jungkook and that, somewhere along the way, he secretly started to feel the same way. 

Suji and Taehyung did not believe that either, of course they didn’t, they knew Jungkook has always liked Suji. They just didn’t want you to know it, that was what they have been protecting you from since you were ten. So, at the wedding, neither of them cried. Even Jimin and Yejin didn’t bother to congratulate you either. 

Suji only held your hands for a moment, while Taehyung stood beside her with an expression you couldn’t bring yourself to read.

“We’re here for you,” Suji said.

“Anytime,” Taehyung added.

You couldn’t tell whether that was a warning, but you knew then that they knew something you didn’t. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook’s hand on your waist during the first dance felt cold, because he was touching you only because the event expected him to. He never pulled you closer or whispered something sweet in between of the dance. His eyes stayed fixed somewhere over your shoulder, while you moved together with the applause of people who believed they were watching two people in love.

Later, in a hotel suite far too large for two people who had nothing to say to each other, you and Jungkook sat at opposite ends of the couch, still dressed in your wedding clothes.

Jungkook's tie had been pulled loose and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. Your veil was folded beside you and the hand bouquet of flowers were placed right between the two of you.

“Just so we’re clear, we’re only married on paper,” Jungkook eventually said. 

Jungkook didn’t think he was being cruel to you. If anything, he believed he was doing you a kindness by being honest from the beginning. 

“I won’t cheat on you. I can’t afford to have my company being caught up in a scandal,” he continued, “but I’m not going to treat you like a wife. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just my roommate.”

“Okay,” you said.

It was the only word you could utter at that moment. 

You did not know how to explain how his words made you feel. You only knew that you already decided Jungkook would never see you cry over something he clearly would never think was worth grieving.

You changed out of your wedding dress in the bathroom because it felt strange to do it in front of a husband who barely looked at you since the ceremony.

That night, you slept on opposite sides of the same bed, with a pillow placed between the two of you like a line neither of you was meant to cross. 

By the time you woke up the next morning, Jungkook was already gone. 

At the very least, Jungkook had the decency to leave a note on the counter with his flight time. Much later in the marriage, you would realize it was the first of countless mornings that started the same way:

waking up to find out that Jungkook already left.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

first year of marriage

Jungkook moved into the guest room during the very first day you started living together. That first night, you lay awake in the enormous bed you were apparently meant to have all to yourself, listening to the faint sounds of Jungkook moving around the apartment. 

Then during the first year of your marriage, you found yourself keeping track of everything Jungkook never did.

You stupidly believed that if you counted the nights he came home, the meals you shared, and the times he looked at you like he cared about you, then you might be able to prove that things were getting better. And when they did not, the numbers became proof that you had not imagined how lonely the marriage made you feel.

You hated that you cared enough to count it all and you hated yourself even more for still waiting for Jungkook to change.

Pathetic did not feel like a strong enough word for measuring your marriage by how little your husband gave you, only to find yourself disappointed each time the answer was almost nothing.

You counted the nights he came home before midnight: 11 out of 365 days. 

You counted the meals you ate at the same table: 4, and two of those were during the week his grandmother visited. To Jungkook, keeping up appearances to his family mattered more than whatever existed between the two of you.

You counted the number of times he asked how your day was: 0.

Well, what did you really expect? 

This was an arranged marriage, and Jungkook chose you because he knew you would be easy to please without ever having to worry that you might leave the marriage. At some point, you realized maybe Jungkook had always known how you felt about him. Perhaps that was why he had chosen you as his wife in the first place.

Yet what some stupid part of you wanted was to know undoubtedly that he cared for you, even just a little. 

Whenever you were out with friends and thought of him, you would bring something home and leave it on the counter with a note telling him it was his to eat or drink.

By morning, the food was always still sitting there on the counter, clearly untouched.

Jungkook never ate any of the food you brought home for him, not once that entire year. So eventually, you stopped being surprised and then, sometime near the end of the first year, you stopped bringing anything home at all.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Family holidays were the worst because Jungkook never bothered to show up. So you had to act and lie to everyone around you that the marriage was fine and Jungkook is just one busy businessman. 

“He’s on a business trip,” you told your mother at Chuseok, “the company’s expanding into three new markets this quarter. He barely has time to sleep.”

“He’s swamped with work,” you told Suji at your father’s memorial dinner. That was the one day you truly wanted him there. Just once, you wanted your fake husband to stand beside you at your father’s grave, so you didn't have to lie when you were already drowning in grief and sadness. “Jungkook sends his condolences,” you added.

He did not.

You made it up, the way you always did. He did not come because he did not want to, because you were not worth giving up even a single hour of his life for. You could not say any of that to the people who loved you, not yet and maybe not ever.

Besides, you had no one to blame but yourself. 

No one had forced you to say yes. Your mother would have been fine if she had to keep paying the debt, even if it took the rest of her life, and you could have helped her without marrying Jungkook. There were always other choices you could have picked, harder ones perhaps, but they always existed.

Yet you chose this route.

You walked into the marriage willingly because some foolish part of you wanted an answer to the question you’ve always had since you were ten: what would happen if Jungkook chose you to be his partner? 

Well, now, the adult version of you know.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

What you didn't know that first year was that Jungkook noticed all the empty containers more than he let on, he noticed all the food you brought home for him to consume.

Jungkook would come home late most nights, and sometimes later than he actually needed to, because coming home early meant having to sit in the same room as you, and Jungkook never knew what to say to you.

He would see the food you left for him on the counter with a small note on top of it. And every time he saw it, something in his chest felt weird. Jungkook told himself what he felt had to be guilt, there was no other reason for him to care about you.

A few times, Jungkook found himself standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, holding the food you brought home and he would just stare at it for a while before putting it back exactly where you left it. Because he didn’t want you to know he had even looked or noticed the effort you put in for him.

To Jungkook, the whole point of this marriage was revenge.

You ruined his life, so he was ruining yours. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

second year of marrtiage

By the second year of your arranged marriage, you were used to the coldness between you and Jungkook. You stopped hoping for him to change his ways, you stopped waiting for him at dinner and setting out a second plate.

You started going to Suji's for girls’ nights and coming home late on purpose, just to see if Jungkook would notice and he never did. Thankfully, it didn't hurt you as much as it would have in the first year. Most nights, he was either still out or locked inside his study. Sometimes the light under the door was the only sign that he was even home.

The apartment stayed exactly the same whether you were there or not.

At New Year, your aunt cornered you before dinner, “Where’s your husband? We’ve only met him twice in two years, and one of those times was at your wedding.”

“He’s closing a deal in Singapore,” you answered easily as lying about Jungkook was almost natural by now, “it’s a big one, so he had to be there.”

What she did not know was that you cried in your car before coming upstairs. You gave yourself exactly ten minutes to cry, sitting in the dark parking lot with the engine off and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Once ten minutes were over, you went upstairs to greet your family and smiled as if nothing was wrong.

It was also during the second year that you flew to Jeju for the wedding of one of Jungkook’s business partners.

You assumed you would sit together since it was still a public appearance. It felt stupid now, standing at the gate of priority passengers with your boarding pass in hand, but you didn’t think to check your tickets until Jungkook told you.

“I’m flying first class,” he said, “you’re in economy.”

“Oh,” you forced a small laugh, trying to sound as if it didn’t bother you, “I thought you would’ve booked us seats next to each other.”

“Economy seat should be fine for you. It’s only three hours.”

You spent the flight in a middle seat between two strangers, leaning past the person beside you whenever you wanted to look out the window. 

Years ago, you believed being noticed by Jungkook would feel like winning something.

Now you were his wife, and he couldn’t even be bothered to sit beside you.

When the plane landed, he was not waiting for you, just as you expected. You had to book a taxi to the hotel alone and texted him to say you have arrived. And his only reply was the number of the room you had to share together since most of his colleagues and friends are staying in the same hotel. 

When you let yourself into the room, he was on a call, feet up on the balcony railing as he sat on the balcony couch. It was thankfully an ensuite room with 2 separate beds, so you didn’t have to share a bed with him. Your only interaction with Jungkook then was when he lifted his finger in front of his mouth to tell you to be silent as he was talking on the phone.  

At the wedding reception, you sat at a table full of his friends, who happened to be the group he used to hang out with at school, and you smiled throughout a dinner where no one asked you a single question about yourself, because to them you were simply "Jungkook's wife.”

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation until one of the women at the table turned to you, “Is that even a real Van Cleef?” she asked, nodding at your bracelet, “it doesn’t look like it.”

“It isn’t,” you said, “it was handmade by a small business.”

“Huh,” she looked at it again, her mouth twisting slightly in disgust.

Another woman leaned closer, “Don’t you think you should make more of an effort with Jungkook’s friends? You never come to any of our gatherings. We barely know anything about you besides the fact that you’re Suji’s younger sister.”

Jungkook has never invited you to any of those gatherings, but you couldn’t tell them that, it would only give them something else to laugh about, “I’ve been busy,” you said.

“Jungkook is much busier than you,” one of the men cut in.

The first woman looked at you again, “You should be more careful about how you dress too, wearing cheap jewellery makes your husband look bad.”

It was not as if Jungkook has ever given you money to buy anything, not that you would have taken it even if he had.

 “I see,” you muttered.

You stared at her bracelet before standing up from your seat, “Well, at least mine was made responsibly by someone who was paid fairly,” you said, “can you say the same about yours? Or do you just not care about the children who had to mine the diamond and stones as long as your jewellery came in an expensive box?”

Then you picked up your bag and walked away before any of them could answer.

Later, near the bar, you overheard your husband's name.

"Jungkook, honestly, I always thought you would end up with the sister. Suji, right? The one who's married to Taehyung now? She would've made more sense since you had always fancied Suji too. I mean, no offense, your wife seemed sweet, I guess, but.."

"She doesn't really fit in with us, does she?" someone else said, finishing the sentence the other couldn’t.

You turned away before you could hear Jungkook’s response, already heading back towards a table where you felt just as out of place, then his voice stopped you mid-step.

“Yeah,” Jungkook answered, sounding almost bored, “I guess Suji would’ve made more sense for me.”

That was the day you found out Jungkook fancied your sister.

You waited until you were in the hotel bathroom to cry. You locked the door, sat on the closed toilet lid, and pressed both hands over your mouth because Jungkook was somewhere on the other side of the wall and you could not let him hear you.

It should not have hurt as much as it did, you knew he did not love you. Jungkook made that clear from the first night of your marriage.

But knowing he did not want you was different from finding out he liked your own sister.

Suddenly, everything made sense to you.

The way Taehyung and Suji looked at each other when you announced the marriage to them and the way they never congratulated you. They knew, everyone knew except you.

And the worst part was remembering that you told them you have always loved Jungkook, and that he secretly liked you too.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

A few weeks later, back home, you went to dinner at one of Jungkook’s business partner’s houses. You wore the nicest outfit you owned, but you knew the second you walked in that it still was not enough for them. 

One of the wives looked you up and down before smiling, “Cute,” she said.

And you knew it was not a compliment.

“No ring upgrade yet?” another woman asked during dessert, nodding at the plain band on your finger, “Jungkook usually doesn’t do anything halfway. I guess he’s saving the good jewellery for later.”

“She likes simple things,” Jungkook said without looking at you and then he continued, “Suji always said less is more too.”

You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom before your face gave you away. When you came back, they were talking about Suji, about how smart and impressive she was. 

“You know,” one of his friends said to you as he refilled his glass, “we always thought Jungkook would end up with your sister. You seem sweet, but Suji and Jungkook would’ve made much more sense together.”

“None taken,” you said. This was a conversation you have heard before, so you didn’t really care much of it, at least that was what you thought. 

You looked at Jungkook across the table and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Jungkook could have told them to stop. He could have done anything that made you feel like you were not just the wrong sister sitting in Suji’s place. But instead, he looked away and didn’t even bother to correct them.

You didn’t speak during the entire drive home, Jungkook didn’t ask what was wrong or maybe he didn’t even notice how your silence was different, or maybe every silence with you sounded the same to him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next morning, you tried to talk to him about it, because some stubborn, hopeful part of you still believed that if you just explained it clearly enough, he would understand how you felt.

"You compared me to my sister in front of your friends," you said, over coffee he was drinking standing up, already half way out the door. 

"It wasn't a big deal," he said, checking his watch, “it was a joke."

"It didn't feel like a joke."

"I don't have time for this right now," he said, "can we talk about it tonight?"

You knew, even as you nodded, that tonight would turn into tomorrow, and tomorrow would become some vague promise of “later”. By then, you already knew what later meant with Jungkook, it meant never.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

What you did not know was that Jungkook kept thinking about what he said in Jeju.

“Suji would’ve made more sense.”

The words came back to him at random times; in the shower, in the elevator, during meetings when he was supposed to be listening, and he kept telling himself it was true. Suji was always the one he wanted and everyone knew that.

Still, he could not understand why saying it had made him feel so bad.

Jungkook should not have felt guilty. You were the reason he lost Suji in the first place. You were the reason she had chosen Taehyung and left him behind. 

So if anyone deserved to feel guilty, it was you.

Later that year, on a night you were out, he opened the cabinet and took out two plates without thinking. He stared at them for a few seconds before putting one back.

You stopped setting a place for him months ago, but he watched you do it so many times during the first year that the habit had somehow stayed with him. He stood there longer than he needed to, wondering why he reached for two plates when he knew you were not coming home.

For years, Suji had been the person Jungkook believed he wanted. His friends still mentioned her like she was some great love he lost, and he let himself believe that was true because it gave him a reason to stay angry.

But whenever Jungkook tried to remember her, his mind kept going somewhere else. He remembered sitting at your family’s kitchen table, helping you finish a puzzle because no one else wanted to. Jungkook remembered finding you behind the curtain during hide-and-seek, and he remembered how easily you used to laugh around him.

Jungkook has not heard your laugh in a long time and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

One night, while you were out celebrating a friend’s birthday, he sat alone in the living room with a drink in his hand. He remembered you mentioning the party, though he couldn’t remember whether you told him directly or if he saw the birthday card on the counter.

Jungkook looked around the apartment and thought that you were probably happier when he was not there.

And Jungkook did not like that thought. He did not like knowing that you could leave the apartment and become a completely different person around everyone else; someone happier. 

He poured his drink into the sink and went to bed early.

Jungkook told himself what he was feeling towards you was guilt that would pass if he ignored it long enough.

It did not.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

third year of marriage

By the third year of marriage, you stopped hoping at all.

Whatever hope you carried into the marriage was nowhere to be found. You could not remember the exact moment it happened, you only knew that one day, you stopped expecting anything from Jungkook.

The two of you have been living separate lives under the same roof.

You paid for half of everything, the groceries, bills, and all the other small expenses neither of you ever discussed. 

You have also gotten even better at lying during family gatherings; “he’s travelling,” “he’s busy,” or “the company is going through an important season.” You said the same excuses so often that the lies came out without any effort nowadays, even Suji stopped asking you questions about Jungkook. 

“You know you don’t have to keep covering for him,” Suji said quietly at your mother’s birthday after you finished explaining Jungkook’s empty chair for the hundredth time, “we’re not going to think less of you if you tell us the truth.”

“I know,” you said.

You just didn’t have the energy to say it out loud. Once you told them, they would worry, they would ask what you planned to do, they would want you to leave him, and then you would have to explain why you even stayed for so long.

Some nights, you sat alone in the apartment and thought about how long it has been. Three whole years; you have spent three years living with someone who barely knew you.

You counted everything during the first year, but eventually, you stopped doing so. The amount of things Jungkook has done for you has become too embarrassing. There was no point keeping track of shared meals when there were barely any to count.

You feel like a different person now, sometimes, you almost feel sorry for yourself.

You waited so long for your knight to choose you, never knowing that when he finally did, it would be the very thing that broke you apart.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Sometime during the third year of the marriage, Jungkook finally began to understand something he spent most of his life getting wrong.

It has never really been Suji.

For years, he has been so sure she was the one he wanted. Suji was beautiful, confident, and always at the centre of everything. Everyone liked her, so wanting her had always made sense to Jungkook, especially when everyone around him seemed to expect it.

But when Jungkook thought back to the years he spent at your family's house as a kid, the memories that stayed with him were never really about Suji. 

It was you sitting beside him at the kitchen table, asking for help with a puzzle even though you were too shy to look directly at him. It was you hiding behind the curtain during hide-and-seek and him trying not to laugh when he found you. It was the way you used to save him a seat at lunch, the way you followed him around when you were younger, the way your face lit up whenever he paid attention to you, as if he'd done something far kinder than he actually did.

Somehow, Jungkook took all of those memories and put Suji's name all over them instead. Maybe it was because Suji was his age, and she fit so easily into the rest of his life. You have only ever been Suji's little sister, or at least that was what he always told himself. And the truth came to him slowly, then all at once.

It would have been easier if Jungkook could have kept blaming you.

Jungkook was sixteen when he finally found the courage to tell Suji how he felt, he was certain she felt the same way, only for her to turn him down. Suji told him she liked Taehyung, not him. Then she told him that even if she felt differently, she could never be with him. She told him that she couldn't bear the thought of you finding out that the boy you adored since you were ten had fallen for your own sister instead.

That was the day Jungkook decided you were the reason he lost Suji. He never could decide who he was angrier at; you for telling her first or Suji for choosing you over him. 

And Jungkook found it easier to be angry at you.

He told himself for years that marrying you was a way of taking back what he lost, except somewhere in the second year of your marriage, the plan stopped feeling like justice and started feeling like something he will regret his whole life.

Because somewhere in that same year, without meaning to, Jungkook started noticing you.

He noticed that he memorised the sound of your keys in the door. He noticed he wasn't surprised your mug was blue, because he remembered you telling him back when you were still a kid that blue was your favourite colour. 

Jungkook started noticing the shows you watched in the living room that he could hear from his room, the nights you came home late and laughed quietly on the phone before disappearing into your bedroom, and the way the apartment felt different when you were gone.

He noticed you took your coffee black in the mornings but liked your tea with milk at night. Jungkook noticed the light under your door usually went out around midnight, and on the nights it didn't, he found himself lying awake wondering what was keeping you up. 

Jungkook noticed how you would go still for a second before answering your mother's calls, then soften your voice the moment you picked up. He noticed you still bit the inside of your cheek when you were concentrating, exactly the way you did at ten years old.

He spent years insisting he had no interest in getting to know you, and somewhere along the way, he memorised you completely.

He even started coming home earlier on the nights he knew you would be there; early enough that he could hear you moving around in the kitchen, or catch a glimpse of you before you went to bed.

Jungkook remembered that night in Jeju more clearly than he wanted to. He watched you leave the table after his friends made fun of your bracelet, and for a second, he almost went after you. Yet he did nothing instead and later at the bar, he told someone that Suji would have made more sense for him. It was just easy to say because he has been telling himself the same thing for years. 

It was easier to believe he lost Suji than to admit he was ruining whatever chance he had with you.

The night he finally realised it, he tried to think about Suji, tried to search for whatever he spent years insisting was still there and there was nothing. Whatever he felt for Suji disappeared a long time ago. Jungkook only kept holding onto it because it felt familiar, because blaming you was easier than admitting he was the one in the wrong.

He knew more about you than he ever bothered to learn about Suji, and that was when he finally understood that all along, the person he has been thinking about was you.

Somewhere in the middle of an arranged marriage he agreed to as a revenge, Jungkook had fallen for the person he was punishing, and he only realised it after you had already stopped caring whether he came home.

The only question left was whether Jungkook had realised he witnessed your devotion too late.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn’t come home that night, instead you called your sister for an emergency meeting at your mom’s place, "Come by mom’s house tonight," you pleaded, "please."

Suji and Taehyung were already there when you arrived. 

You sat down at the kitchen table where you grew up doing homework, "I need to tell you guys something," you said.

So you told them about how he treated you, you told them the reason behind the empty chair at every holiday, and every single thing that happened during your marriage. 

The moment you stopped talking, your mother went to her knees in the middle of the kitchen. You have never, in twenty-six years, seen your mother on her knees for anything, not even at your father's funeral where she stood so straight and so still you worried she had forgotten how to bend her knees

"I did this to you," your mother cried out, and she was frantic in a way you have never once witnessed, her hands were shaking as she reached for yours, "I owe them the money, not you. I sold you to fix my own mistake and I have watched you smile through three years of a marriage that's been eating you alive and I told myself it was fine because you never once complained, because you're so good at never complaining, and I am so sorry, I am so sorry, please forgive me."

You dropped to your knees and held her, and you cried the way you haven’t let yourself cry in years. You cried until your throat was hurting, until Suji came around the table and wrapped her arms around both of you, until Taehyung stood a few feet away with his jaw tight and his hands curled into fists.

"It's okay," you said, when you could speak again,"I'll always help you, Mom. I mean that, I’ll help you pay that debt. But this time, I want a divorce."

Suji was already standing next to you, and the look on her face was one you'd never seen there before, "I am going to kill him," she said, “I’m sorry, ____. I never.. I should have known. I should have asked you harder. I should have protected you."

"Don't," you said, “please. I don't want any of you doing anything. I don't want him in my life anymore, and I don't want to spend one more minute of my energy on him. I just want it to be over. I want to be done."

They didn't like it. 

You could see in all of their faces that it was hurting them not to do anything in your stead. But they loved you enough to hear you out. 

For the first time in three years you slept in your childhood bedroom, and that night, you slept better than you have in a long, long time.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

At first, Jungkook didn’t think much of it when you weren’t home. You went out sometimes. Three years of marriage taught him your routine; Tuesdays with your girlfriends; the occasional weekend at your mother’s. 

Jungkook came home the first night to an empty apartment, ordered food, and ate it standing at the kitchen counter. Your disappearance didn’t seem unusual enough for him to question it.

By the second day, the apartment felt different and he couldn’t immediately work out why. The coffee maker hadn’t been used, there was no bitter smell in the kitchen when he walked in that morning and the mug you always used for tea was still sitting where he left it two days ago.

Jungkook looked at it for longer than he should have, then he checked the entryway for your shoes and they weren’t there. An hour later, Jungkook checked again, and still you weren’t back home.

By the third day, he texted you.

Jungkook: You okay?

No message came back. He stared at the screen until it dimmed in his hand again, and when Jungkook unlocked it, there was still nothing.

By the fourth day, the uneasiness became too loud for him to ignore. It followed him into the shower, the car, and the office. Jungkook sat through meetings without taking in a word. Jungkook asked his assistant to repeat what they just said three times, and afterwards Jungkook still couldn’t remember what they were even discussing.

Jungkook called you once in the afternoon, then again on the drive home, but both calls went to voicemail.

Jungkook wasn’t used to this. 

Jungkook is used to handling problems, hell, he has built companies and sat across from men twice his age and made them agree to terms they had sworn they would never accept. Jungkook knew how to remain calm when everyone else in the room was losing their mind. 

But that night, at two in the morning, Jungkook lay awake thinking about one unanswered text, thinking about where you were, if you were eating well, if you were sleeping soundly, if you will ever come back home to him.

When did he become like this? 

By the fifth day, Jungkook drove past your mother’s street twice. 

The first time, he told himself he had taken the wrong turn. The second time, he slowed down near your house and looked for a light in the windows. Jungkook wanted proof that you were there, that you were somewhere and you didn’t simply disappear beyond his reach.

Jungkook hated how badly he needed you. He opened your contact on his phone again and again but never pressed call, his thumb only hovered over your name until the screen went dark again.

The past three years of marriage have been made up of small things he never should have done. The meals you prepared that he barely touched, the questions he answered without looking at you, the evenings when you sat beside him and eventually stopped trying to start a conversation.

You tried to make a life with him, yet Jungkook treated every attempt as an inconvenience.

For years, he told himself that he was the victim, that Suji was the person he should have been married to. But when Jungkook forced himself to remember exactly why he liked Suji, he felt nothing.

What Jungkook remembered was always you and everything the two of you had done together. He remembered a girl half his size sitting across from him, looking up at him like he was her world. He remembered playing hide-and-seek with you and he remembered pretending not to see you.

Jungkook always said Suji was the person he was the happiest with, but all the memories that felt warm to him, belonged to you.

Admitting the truth would have meant admitting that Jungkook spent years hurting the wrong person. And tonight, Jungkook sat alone in the living room and finally clearly admitted the one he always wanted was you.

Jungkook didn’t want a divorce and he did not want you to leave him.

When he imagined the apartment being empty of your things, Jungkook’s chest started hurting. When he imagined another man hearing you laugh, learning what food you liked, being invited to your mother’s house, he felt something pressing against his chest that it was hard for him to breathe.

Jungkook wanted you to remain his wife and the thought made him feel ashamed of all the things he had done to you the past three years.

“My wife,” Jungkook said to his empty apartment.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook tried to call Suji, but she didn’t answer. So, the next morning, he called Taehyung and to his surprise, Taehyung answered on the second ring.

“Stay away from my family,” was all Taehyung said when he picked up.

“I knew you had feelings for my wife,” Taehyung continued, “I have known for years, I knew since we were children, Jungkook. I didn’t say anything because I thought you would get over it. I thought it was some pathetic thing from when we were younger that would eventually die out.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook tried to cut him off, but Taehyung wouldn’t let him.

“No. You don’t get to say shit. It’s been years,” Taehyung said, “and while you were busy feeling sorry for yourself, you destroyed her sister. Three years, Jungkook. She carried your marriage alone for three years and still smiled through every family dinner because she didn’t want anyone worrying about her. We recently found out it was an arranged marriage, fine, you didn’t have to love her, but you could have treated her decently.”

“You knew she didn’t deserve it,” Taehyung continued, “that’s the part I can’t understand. You knew exactly who she was, and you still treated her like she was responsible for everything you hated about your life.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Taehyung let out a short and bitter laugh, “But I hope you do now. I hope you finally understand what you’ve done, and I hope you feel every second of it.”

Then the call ended.

Jungkook spent years blaming you for a decision neither of you had made. Every humiliation, disappointment, and every bit of grief he carried since he was seventeen, he somehow found a way to make it yours.

It was easier than looking at you, who stayed beside him and asked for so little, and realising he had still given you even less than that.

Now you were gone and there was no one left for him to blame but himself.

Jungkook was not the man he always imagined himself to be. He was pathetic, petty, cowardly, and far smaller than the woman he spent three years treating like nobody.

Jungkook has been nothing but a pathetic, petty and frightened boy wearing a man’s face.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next day, Jungkook went to your mother's house.

She opened the door and just looked at Jungkook with disappointment across her face. It was the same look she gave him when he didn’t kiss you at the altar.  

"I'm not here to see her," Jungkook quickly said, before your mom could close the door, "I know she doesn't want to see me yet. I'm here because I need to say something to you, and I need you to hear me out."

She didn’t say anything, yet she opened the door wide enough to let him in. Unlike the other guests who have visited her home, your mother did not offer Jungkook tea. There was no need to treat him like an acquaintance, soon Jungkook will be her ex son-in-law and someone whom she’ll never ever meet in her life again. 

She sat him at the same kitchen table where you cried just a few nights before.

"I owe your family a lot of money," she said, folding her hands in front of her, "I understand that. I understand this was an arranged marriage none of you asked for or wanted, and that you were as much a pawn in it as my daughter was.”

She drew in a small breath before continuing, “What I do not understand, Jungkook, is how you could treat another human being, my daughter, the kindest person I have ever raised and the one who never once in her life made anyone feel small… How could you have treated her the way you have done the past three years? I am in as much pain watching what this did to her as she is living it, maybe even more, because I was the one who put her in this situation with you in the first place. So tell me, why should I forgive you? Why should I let you anywhere near her again? What exactly do you intend to do?"

Jungkook has never been shaken by anything in his life, not until tonight, sitting in front of your mother.

"I don't have a clear answer," he said, "I wish I did. I spent years being angry at _____ for something that was never even her fault, something I won't even go into right now, because it's mine to explain to her first. And then I spent three more years married to her and still treating her like she was the one who wronged me. I'm not asking you to forgive me." 

Jungkook looked at her, and he looked so broken your mother couldn’t help pitying him, "I'm asking for the chance to keep showing up until it means something to her. I'll beg for her forgiveness, I'll keep coming back even when she tells me not to, even when she has every right to slam the door in my face. But we'll talk, we'll argue, we'll probably fight, more than once, because I don't think she's going to make this easy for me, and she shouldn't and I wouldn’t want her to. I just know I can't bring myself to just let this end without actually trying for the first time in this whole marriage. I want to be someone worth her time. Without knowing it, I realised that the small things she has done throughout our marriage was never small at all. She loved me despite the ugly things I have done. I was just too busy being furious at my past to notice I was standing next to the person I actually wanted."

Your mother stared at him for a long moment, long enough that Jungkook thought she might ask him to leave without another word.

Her marriage to your father hadn’t always been easy. There were years of arguments over parenting, finance, and many more. There were years where she wondered if she married too young.

But when he died, something in her broke apart and it never quite put itself back together.

She remembered how you used to climb into their bed on Sunday mornings, how your father would let you win at cards, how you cried at his funeral so quietly like you were trying not to take up too much space even in your own grief.

you see, your mother knew about your crush on Jungkook. She watched you for sixteen years, she saw the way your face changed whenever Jungkook's name came up at the dinner table, and pretended not to notice the way you used to volunteer to answer the door whenever Suji’s group of friends came around, just in case it was Jungkook. She knew, long before you ever confessed to it, that you had loved him since you were a child. 

And when she told you about the arranged marriage, some small, guilty part of her had let herself believe that maybe this could help. Maybe if she was going to ruin your life with her mistake, it could at least be with the one person you had always wanted to have a relationship with.

She was wrong. 

She watched that hope change into something else these past three years, watching you get smaller in ways you thought she hadn't noticed, watching you repeating lies about a man who could not even be bothered to accompany you for your own father’s death anniversaries.

She was, is, a bad mother for that. 

But she also knew you. She knew that if she asked you right now, whether some part of you still wanted to know if he was willing to try, you wouldn’t say no.

"Sit up straight," she finally said, and Jungkook blinked at her, caught off guard.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me," your mother’s voice was firm and steady, "If you're going to sit in my kitchen and tell me you intend to fight for my daughter, you're not going to do it slouched over like a boy waiting to be punished. Fighting for her means showing up like you mean it, every time, starting now."

Jungkook immediately straightened his posture.

"I'm not telling you this because I forgive you," she continued, "I will not forgive you for a long time, and that will be my right to decide, just as it will be hers." 

She took a deep breath, before continuing, "But I have spent three years watching my daughter lie to the people who love her because she didn't want anyone to know how badly you have hurt her. If you're serious, then you do not need to convince me. You show her, you keep showing it to her, and you need to accept that she may never let you back in, and you don't get to be angry about it, not after all the years you've taken from her already."

"She was ten years old the first time she talked to me about you," she said quietly, "I used to think it was sweet. I didn't know I was watching the beginning of something that would be a long time pain for her. So if she gives you a second chance, you do not waste whatever time she gives you, Jungkook. She has given enough of it away for free, do you understand me?"

"I understand," he said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came home from a work trip three days later and found Jungkook sitting at your family home’s dining table, his laptop open and a stack of papers beside him like it was any other weekday.

He was sitting there as if it wasn’t your first time seeing him since you walked out of the home you shared with him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?” you sneered.

Your keys were clenched in your hand, and your entire body went rigid at the sight of him sitting in a chair at your family home.

"I'm here to date you," he said, slowly looking up at you.

You stared at him in disbelief, "You are here to what?"

“Date you,” Jungkook said as he closed his laptop, “I want to date you properly this time.”

For a second, all you could do was look at him. 

"I know what I did,” Jungkook continued, “I know what three years of this marriage to me did to you. I'm not asking you to forget it. I just.. I want the chance to earn what I should’ve earned before we ever got married.”

You let out a dry and humourless laugh, before asking, “What the fuck?!”

You dropped your keys onto the counter, and they hit harder than you intended it to be, “You think you can just show up here and ask to start over?”

“No matter what you do, my heart is not going to change, Jungkook. I'm not a child anymore. I know better than to give you a second chance, hell, I gave you a hundred chances over the last three years and you didn't take a single one.”

“You are beneath me now,” you said quietly, “do you understand that?”

“Then give me one last chance,” Jungkook said, almost pleading.

“Let me court you,” he continued, “let me date you the way I should have the past three years.”

You didn’t answer.

You just walked past him and went to get changed.

You were meeting your friends that night, and had no intention of spending another minute in that kitchen listening to Jungkook act like he could fix three years with a few words.

He stayed where he was while you moved around the house, but you could feel his eyes on you. It shouldn’t have felt unfamiliar, he was your husband. Still, you couldn’t remember the last time he actually noticed you. 

but you hated that your body enjoyed the feeling of being noticed by him, hated that some part of you still wanted to be seen by him.

"Can I come?" he asked, from the living room, he sounded quieter than you have ever heard him speak, “I would love to get to know your friends.” 

You scoffed out loud in response and left without answering him.

The morning of Margot's wedding, you were woken up before the sun was even up in the sky.

"Wake up, my lady," Daisy said, already laying out three different gowns across the end of your bed, "we have a great deal to do and very little time to do them."

"I am aware of the wedding, Daisy," you said, burying your face back into the pillow, "I have been aware of it for months."

"Yes, well, my lady, then you should know you need to be dressed for this occasion."

You groaned into your pillow and let yourself exactly four more minutes of being glued to the bed. You knew you had to wake up soon either way since Daisy would simply stand there patiently, holding your dressing gown for as long as it takes you.

The gown Daisy had chosen for you was a soft blush pink, embroidered along it was small silver dots that caught the light whenever you moved, and you had to admit that it was a lovely dress even if you resented slightly how much effort was needed to attend your sister’s wedding.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Daisy said, stepping back to admire her work once your hair was done, "Lady Margot will be very pleased."

"Lady Margot is getting married today," you said, "I doubt she will spare a single thought for what I am wearing."

"Perhaps not," Daisy agreed before smiling and said, "but Captain Jungkook might."

You gave her a look with which Daisy immediately busied herself with your gloves instead, though you noticed she did not seem the least bit sorry.

Outside your room, the servants were already hard at work preparing for the wedding. Your mother stood in the front hall directing two footmen struggling with an enormous arrangement of white roses. Your father came out of his study, already dressed, looking overwhelmed by the constant stream of instructions flying around him.

You made your way down to join them, smoothing your dress as you went.

"There you are," your mother said, turning to look at you, “you look lovely, sweetheart. Truly. Though I do wish you would smile more often. It would suit that gown considerably better than the expression you're wearing now."

"I'm smiling, mother."

"No, you are fake smiling my dear, there is a difference," your mother smiled knowingly, "I've been watching your face your entire life, you won't fool me."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You have already known, of course, that you would be expected to be at the wedding with Captain Jeon Jungkook beside you.

Your mother informed you of this arrangement days earlier, you tried to argue back but your mother had no intention of discussing this matter. When you argued, she just listened, nodded once at you, and carried on as if you had said nothing at all to her.

"It is customary," she said, “for a betrothed couple to attend events together, people will expect it."

"People should find something else to concern themselves with," you said, rolling your eyes.

And that was the end of the conversation.

At half past nine, you stood in the entrance hall of the Ashwell townhouse, staring through the front window as a black carriage bearing the Jeon crest stopped just right outside.

Your stomach turned into knots the moment you saw him.

Captain Jeon Jungkook stepped down in full dress uniform. He wore the same navy coat with polished silver buttons that you first saw him by the fountain, though today every seam was pressed perfectly. And there were more medals pinned to his chest than you remembered.

“You are wearing your uniform,” you said as soon as he entered the townhouse, before Jungkook was even finished bowing to your mother.

“I am a soldier, Lady Ashwell,” Jungkook replied as he straightened himself, “it would be rather strange if I wore anything else.”

“It is your future sister-in-law’s wedding, not a military inspection.”

“I assumed the two occasions required much the same thing,” he said, before adding, “standing still for long periods and making oneself presentable.”

You rolled your eyes at him as your index finger pointed to the medals on his chest, “Sure, but you look as if you intend to frighten the guests into behaving themselves.”

His eyes briefly dropped to the medals on his chest, “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

“Half the room will think we are under attack.”

“If the room is under attack,” Jungkook said, completely unbothered, “I would rather be properly dressed for it.”

“There is not going to be an attack at a wedding, Captain,” you scoffed.

“You would be surprised, my lady. I have heard stories.”

"Name one," you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I could not possibly. The officer who told me swore me to secrecy, and I take my oaths rather more seriously than you seem to think,” Jungkook said.

“You could have worn anything in your entire wardrobe, and you chose the one outfit designed to remind everyone that you carry a sword and a gun. I clearly underestimated how much soldiers enjoy showing off,” you stated.

"I do not have the sword or the gun with me," Jungkook said, smiling at you.

"How generous of you," you mocked.

"I thought it might be considered excessive for a wedding," Jungkook said.

"And the medals are not excessive?"

"The medals were earned, my lady. They are not ornaments," Jungkook said, "I would have thought a woman of your intelligence would be able to tell it apart.”

"My intelligence is not in question, Captain. Yours might be, if you think I care to admire your medals," you scoffed, "my sister is getting married today, this is not a military meeting."

"If it troubles you so greatly, Lady Ashwell, you are welcome to inform your future husband precisely what he ought to wear to future occasions. I am told wives do this rather often."

"I am not your wife yet," you said.

"No," Jungkook said, you could see the grin on his face deepening as he added, "you are not my wife yet. I guess you could consider this a preview of everything you have to look forward to."

"How dreadful," you responded.

"I thought you might say so,” he said, smiling at you. 

Your mother cut in before either of you could continue, ushering the two of you towards the second carriage and muttering that she had no intention of arriving late to her own daughter’s wedding.

The journey to the chapel was not a long one, but it felt considerably longer. You spent most of it watching Jungkook from across the narrow space between the seats, trying to understand whether the uniform was meant to intimidate everyone he was about to meet or whether it was simply the only formal clothing he owned.

"You are staring," Jungkook said, still looking out of the window.

"I am trying to decide whether to insult you or allow you the comfort of not knowing what I am thinking," you replied. 

"How generous of you to consider the alternative," Jungkook said with a faint smile, "though I confess I find your insults considerably more entertaining than your silences."

“That is only because you have not yet heard a proper one,” you scoffed.

“I look forward to it, then,” Jungkook said, grinning as he finally turned to face you.

“You should not look forward to it. I may wound what little pride you have left.”

“I was not aware you thought I had so little,” Jungkook replied, acting as if he was surprised.

“I was trying to be generous,” you rolled your eyes at him.

Jungkook laughed softly before answering, “You must stop doing that, it does not suit you.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The chapel was already half full by the time you arrived. The sunlight shone through the tall windows and the scent of white lilies struck your nose so immediately that you nearly sneezed as you walked into the chapel. Margot’s wedding was the wedding of the season, and it seemed as if the entire nobles in the city came to judge this for themselves. 

You were seated beside Jungkook, in the second row reserved for family, and you spent the ceremony watching your sister walk down the aisle in a gown so beautiful that you couldn’t help but feel happiness for her. Margot has never once in her life looked so certain of anything until you saw her walking down the aisle towards the Baron of Rohan. 

Despite everything you had said about marriage, you found yourself wondering whether your own wedding might be this joyful. Then you glanced at the man seated beside you and remembered that your wedding would hardly resemble Margot’s.

Of course the Queen had chosen a soldier for you. It seemed fitting, somehow. Margot and your other sisters had always been the proper daughters, while you had spent most of your life as the family’s odd one out. Why should your marriage be any less unconventional?

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The reception was held in the gardens of the Rohan estate, where you spent the first half hour trailing dutifully beside Jungkook as he was greeting what felt like every person in the entire kingdom.

It was exhausting standing beside Jungkook while he charmed an entire garden one guest at a time. You watched as Jungkook bowed to a countess whose name you have already forgotten then he spoke to a retired general about a war he fought thirty years earlier. Jungkook’s questions were so precise that the old man’s face was glowing with the pleasure of being taken seriously. A few moments later, Jungkook complimented a young lord’s coat with such sincerity that the boy’s face turned red and he spent the next several minutes looking back at Jungkook with admiration.

"You are very good at this," you said, once the young lord wandered off far away enough from the two of you.

"At what?" Jungkook asked curiously. 

"Making people feel as if they are the only person in the garden worth speaking to," you answered.

“I am pleased to know you were watching me, my lady,” Jungkook said, glancing at you with a faint smile, “it is a useful skill. You would be surprised how far it carries a man that started with little connections.”

"I am not surprised at all," you said, "I have simply never seen anyone quite so thorough about it."

"Would you prefer I were rude to your sister’s guests instead?"

“I would rather see you behave the same way with everyone,” you said before you could stop yourself, “instead of becoming whoever each of them wishes to meet.”

“Connections are politics, my lady. So are conversations,” Jungkook replied, “if I treated everyone in precisely the same manner, I would not be standing where I am today.”

You did not know how to answer that. And before you could think of a clever way of answering Jungkook, a cluster of young ladies walked towards the two of you.

“Captain Jeon!” called the young woman at the front of the group, a pretty blonde woman you vaguely recognised as some baron’s daughter. She pressed one hand to her chest and smiled up at him, “we simply had to tell you how distinguished you looked during the ceremony!”

“I heard you were very brave, Captain,” said another woman. She was a brunette and she was standing a little too close to Jungkook than necessary. From the way she leaned towards him, making certain Jungkook had an excellent view of her cleavage, it was obvious that she wanted his attention. “My cousin served under a captain in the eastern regiment,” she continued, “he said the northern campaign under Captain Jungkook was the most dangerous one and yet here you are, entirely unharmed and twice as handsome for having survived it.”

“You are too kind,” Jungkook replied.

To his credit, his eyes remained fixed politely on her face. Still, the faint smile at the corner of his lips suggested he was not entirely displeased by the attention.

You let out a small sound before you could stop yourself, something between a scoff and a cough that indicated how disgusted you were at the scene in front of you. You felt three pairs of eyes turning towards you with disapproval, as if you just interrupted a church service.

"Forgive me," you said, "something caught in my throat."

“How unfortunate,” the blonde said, though she did not seem like she believed you even for a second. 

She turned back to Jungkook and lowered her voice, “Captain, I do hope your future wife understands what a treasure she is receiving. You took excellent care of the women fortunate enough to capture your attention. Isabelle told me herself not four weeks ago, and she did not strike me as a woman to exaggerate.”

The third lady, who until this point has said nothing at all, gave a small smile into her champagne glass that told you more than she likely intended, “I am certain whoever marries you will be very well cared for, Captain,” she said, her eyes lifted to his, “in every sense of the word, I can speak from the one night experience I had with you.”

You felt heat across your face, whether it came from embarrassment or anger, you couldn’t really tell. But before you could come up with a response, Jungkook let out a laugh beside you. 

"You are too kind," Jungkook said again, "though I confess, ladies, you have caught me at an unfair advantage. Allow me to introduce you properly to my fiance, so that you might direct your very generous concern for her happiness at the lady herself, rather than at me."

Before you could react, Jungkook placed his hand at your back and pulled you half a step closer to him. The movement somehow felt so familiar, that it startled you into silence.

"Lady Ashwell," Jungkook said, glancing down at you, "forgive me. I should have introduced her sooner.”

Three pairs of eyes swept over you then, from your head to the edges of your gown and back to your eyes again.

"How lovely," the blonde one said, in a voice that suggested she did not find you lovely at all, "we did hear that the youngest Ashwell daughter kept mostly to her books. I confess I did not picture you quite so…” she paused, "...quiet."

"I am considerably less quiet than most people expect," you replied, "though I understand the confusion. I simply prefer to save my opinions for matters important enough to deserve them.”

Beside you, Jungkook turned his face away and bit the inside of his lip, evidently trying not to laugh.

The brunette one smiled at you, entirely unashamed of having spent the last several minutes displaying her cleavage to your future husband in front of you, "Well," she said, "I am sure the Captain will keep you very well looked after."

“I am sure he will try,” you said. Then, with a smile, you added, “Though you need not concern yourselves on my account. I have never been the jealous type. I have no objection to mistresses, provided they are discreet and do not expect me to do anything for them.”

The silence that followed was without question, the most satisfying silence you have had all day.

The ladies’ mouth opened, then closed again, apparently unable to find a suitable reply. While Jungkook went completely still beside you and when you glanced up at him, his expression was somewhere between horror and admiration.

“My lady has a rather strange sense of humour,” Jungkook said smoothly, trying to fix up the mess you have made, “she enjoys making people uncomfortable.”

“I was not joking,” you said.

“Oh, she was,” Jungkook repeated more firmly, and you felt his hand tighten slightly against the fabric around your back.

“Well. How very… modern of you, Lady Ashwell,” the blonde lady said with a stiff smile, clearly not knowing what to make of what you just said, “If you will excuse us, Captain, I believe my mother is looking for me.”

The other two murmured their excuses and followed her, retreating with considerably less grace than they did when they joined the two of you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Mistresses,” Jungkook repeated the word again once the ladies were out of sight. 

He turned to look at you properly for the first time since the word left your mouth, “You have just told three of the most notorious gossips in the kingdom that you would not object to me keeping mistresses.”

“You did not exactly discourage them,” you replied, “you were remarkably gracious to the one showing off her cleavage.”

“I was being polite.”

“You were being admired, Captain, and you seemed perfectly content to allow it.”

“A gentleman simply declines to be rude about where a lady chooses to direct the conversation,” Jungkook answered.

“How very diplomatic of you,” you scoffed.

“I have had a great deal of practice,” he said, looking far too pleased with himself.

“I gathered as much.”

“But whatever you intended, my lady,” Jungkook continued, steering the conversation away, “that remark will be repeated at every dinner table in the city before the evening ends.”

“Good. Perhaps it will finally convince everyone that we are as catastrophically unsuited as I have been saying since the fountain,” you said as you smiled sweetly at him.

“Or it will convince the entire city that you are far more interesting than anyone gave you credit for, and that I am remarkably fortunate in my choice of wife,” Jungkook replied, smirking at you, clearly satisfied with his conclusion.

“That was not my intention,” you let out a small gasp before you could stop it. The most irritating part was that Jungkook might be right. Once the story spread, the nobles would not pity him for being forced to marry you.

They would envy him for it and even found the two of you as being suitable for each other.

“No,” he agreed, smiling again, “I did not imagine it was your intention and yet here we are.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It was not long afterwards, during yet another round of introductions, that you noticed a man standing near the refreshment table. He was watching you with amusement, as if he had been waiting to see how long it would take for you to notice him.

He was tall, dressed in a deep green coat that stood out among the black and navy worn by nearly every other gentleman in the garden. His dark hair was left slightly untidy, some strands of his hair falling across his forehead. 

The moment your eyes met, he grinned at you.

“Taehyung!” you exclaimed, leaving Jungkook’s side without a second thought, “you came.”

“Of course I came,” Taehyung replied, closing the space between the two of you and taking both of your hands in his, “I would not have missed Margot’s wedding for anything.”

His grin widened, “Besides, I heard my favourite Ashwell daughter somehow managed to get herself engaged.”

"I have missed you!" you said, smiling at him. 

“Me too, I have missed you too,” Taehyung replied and smiled back at you.

Taehyung is now living on the other side of the country, where he spent the past several years managing the estate he inherited from his father. Between tenants and the endless demands of the property, he rarely had a reason to return to the capital. You have not seen him in nearly a year, but you exchange letters every month which has been enough to make the distance feel less severe.

What you did not know was that Taehyung had no intention of returning to his home across the country. He came to settle in the capital for good, a decision made shortly after learning that the woman he always believed he would one day marry is now engaged to someone else. Taehyung also knew that you did not choose the match yourself. You never hid your dislike of soldiers, and he could not believe that, given any choice at all, you would have agreed to marry one.

Jungkook, who followed you just a few steps behind, arrived just in time to hear Taehyung’s confession of missing you. He extended his hand to Taehyung as he introduced himself,  “Captain Jeon Jungkook.”

“Kim Taehyung,” the other man replied, accepting his hand, “a very very old friend of the lady’s.”

“Very old?” Jungkook repeated.

“Since childhood,” you explained.

“I see,” Jungkook’s expression remained perfectly composed, but his gaze moved briefly between the two of you.

It did not take Jungkook long to understand. Taehyung was still holding one of your hands, seemingly unaware of it. Even while speaking to Jungkook, Taehyung’s attention continued to drift back to you, his expression softening each time it did.

Jungkook’s smile did not falter. His grip on Taehyung’s hand, however, lasted a moment longer than necessary. Jungkook spent years learning how to read a room, and Kim Taehyung was not particularly difficult to understand. He watched you too closely, smiled too readily whenever you spoke, and seemed to forget Jungkook was standing there each time you turned towards him. 

Taehyung was in love with you and judging by the familiarity between the two of you, he had been for some time, even long before Jungkook’s name ever entered the Ashwell household.

It was an interesting complication, Jungkook thought to himself, “How do you know one another?” Jungkook asked, mostly to see which of you would answer first.

"We grew up together," you said, "our families' estates share a border. Taehyung used to climb over the garden wall to steal fruit, and I used to pretend I hadn't seen him do it."

"She saw me every single time," Taehyung said, "and always ended up telling her governess anyway."

"You deserved it," you laughed before adding, "you also stole my favorite book once and did not return it for an entire year."

"I was still reading it," Taehyung said, “and I wanted to enjoy it properly."

Jungkook watched the two of you argue and it told him more than either of you seemed to realise. And he felt something uncomfortable somewhere behind his ribs, it was not jealousy because being jealous would have required him to want something, and Jungkook did not want you in any form or any way. 

Jungkook was just feeling cautious. 

Taehyung knew you well enough to recognise when you were lying, or when you were keeping something from him. He knew your habits, history and, judging by the way you spoke to him, had earned a degree of trust from you that Jungkook himself was unlikely to receive any time soon. 

And that could very well become a problem, not because Jungkook cared whom you spend your time with, he did not. But the work ahead would depend on discretion, and if Taehyung believed himself to be responsible for your safety and happiness, he would inevitably begin asking inconvenient questions and watching the Jeon household a little too closely. 

If Taehyung remained in the capital, he would likely be the first person you turned to whenever you discovered something you did not understand. And if he was as devoted to you as Jungkook suspected, he would not simply look the other way.

Kim Taehyung was not yet a threat to Jungkook, but he was a man worth watching.

“If you will both excuse me,” Jungkook said after a moment, “I believe I owe your father a conversation, Lady Ashwell, and I would rather not keep the duke waiting.”

“Of course,” you replied. 

He could hear the relief in your voice at his departure, but Jungkook chose not to say anything about it. He gave Taehyung a slight bow, and made his way towards your father at the other end of the pavilion.

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"So," Taehyung said, the moment Jungkook was gone, leaning against the refreshment table, "that is the military man you are being forced to marry."

"That is him," you said with a sigh.

"He seems," Taehyung said, choosing his words carefully, "very composed."

"That is one word for it," you laughed.

"What word would you use to describe him instead?"

"Insufferable," you said, "arrogant, and entirely too pleased with himself.”

"That does sound like exactly the sort of person you would find intolerable," Taehyung said, grinning, "though I confess it also sounds rather more interesting than I expected, given how the letter your mother sent me described him. She made him sound like a noble war hero out of a children's story."

"He is apparently precisely that to everyone except me," you said, "my father adores him, my mother adores him. And I am, apparently, the only person in the entire kingdom and Ashwell household capable of seeing him clearly."

"And what do you see, exactly?" Taehyung asked.

“I do not know,” you admitted, “only that it is not what everyone else sees. He is different with them than he is with me, and I cannot decide whether that is more unsettling than if he treated everyone equally badly.”

“You think he is hiding something,” Taehyung answered.

“I know he is hiding something. I simply do not know what.”

Taehyung studied you for some time, and the amusement across his face turned into something more serious, "You do not have to marry him," he said, "you know that, don't you?"

“I am fairly certain the Queen of Leon would disagree,” you answered as you glanced around the garden. The guests nearby were far too occupied with champagne and other gossip to notice either of you, but you lowered your voice before adding, “But I have three weeks before the wedding and I intend to spend every one of them finding a way out of it.”

Taehyung’s brows lifted as he noticed the look on your face, “You already have a plan.”

“Yes, I may have one,” you smiled at your childhood friend. 

“Of course you do,” he said, grinning, “you never were very good at waiting for someone else to rescue you.”

“I have found it much quicker to rescue myself,” you replied, smiling back at him.

“And considerably more entertaining for everyone involved,” he added, laughing softly.

"There is a convent, the Sisters of Saint Joseph, it is only a ten hours journey from here,” you said, lowering your voice further.

Taehyung’s grin faded, “A convent?”

“My father keeps several old volumes of Church law in his study. No one else in the house has ever bothered to read them, which meant I could.”

“Of course you did,” Taehyung murmured.

You ignored him as you explained the first part of your plan, “If a woman presents herself to a religious order and declares that she intends to commit herself to the church, she cannot be dragged away. Not without the consent of the presiding bishop.”

“Not even by her family?” Taehyung asked.

“Not by her family,” you said, “and, as far as I have been able to understand, not even by the Crown.”

Taehyung stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to understand what you were suggesting, “You mean to become a nun.”

“I mean to make myself extraordinarily difficult to marry off,” you replied, “The Queen may write as many letters as she pleases, but she cannot order the Church to hand me back without a fight. And I doubt she will want one over a marriage arranged largely for her own amusement.”

Taehyung’s expression remained serious as he asked, “You believe the convent will protect you?”

“I believe it will delay them in marrying me off,” you lowered your voice, “it will give me time to write to Her Majesty myself and explain why I will not consent to this marriage.”

“And you think that will help you?”

“It might,” you said, “at the very least, it will make forcing me to the altar considerably more inconvenient.”

Taehyung said nothing for a moment. A convent was not the future he imagined for you, but it was not a marriage either. In the convent, you would be beyond Jungkook’s reach, and beyond the Queen’s, at least for a time.

And vows to the church did not have to be permanent. If you changed your mind, or found some way to leave the convent later, Taehyung could take you across the country with him, somewhere far from the capital, where no one would think to look for you until it was too late.

Perhaps the convent was not an ending to Taehyung’s love story with you. Perhaps it was merely a place to keep you until he could take you away.

"That is," Taehyung finally said, "genuinely clever and frighteningly so, if I am honest."

"I have had a great deal of time to think about it, and even if I have the idea, I still cannot execute it unless… you are willing to help me.”

"What do you need from me?"

“I need a carriage no one would connect to either of our families,” you said, “and a driver willing to drive me to the convent without asking questions. I cannot hire one myself without attracting attention, and I certainly cannot use one of my father’s drivers,” you looked at Taehyung whose expression grew even more serious, “but you know people. Could you arrange it?”

“I know exactly the man,” Taehyung replied, “he is quiet, discreet, and has done far stranger favours for me without ever speaking of them again.”

“Good, exactly what I needed,” you answered.

Taehyung smiled faintly at you, “Tell me when and where, and I will have him waiting.”

“Two days from now,” you answered, “there is a pastry shop on Fenwick Lane, near the library. I visit often enough that no one would question it if they see me there. If the carriage waits nearby, I could be outside the city before anyone at home realised I was missing.”

“Fenwick Lane,” Taehyung repeated, “I know where it is.”

“Good. Late morning, then. Around eleven,” you lowered your voice, “I will tell Daisy I want to spend the day at the library. From there, it is only a short walk to the pastry shop.”

“And if the carriage is waiting nearby,” Taehyung continued, “then you could be outside the city before anyone realised you were missing.”

“Precisely!” you answered, a little too excitedly. 

"What happens if the Sisters will not have you? If they ask questions you cannot answer, or send word to your father the moment you arrive?"

"Then I will have lost a day and gained nothing," you said, "but I do not intend to fail for lack of preparation. I have already written the letter I mean to present them,explaining precisely what I wish to pursue in the convent and why. I have even practiced more than once, exactly how I mean to say it."

"You have thought of everything."

"I have thought of it a great deal," you said.

"Do you remember," he said, "when we were children, and you decided the two of us should run away and live in the old boathouse by the lake?"

"I remember you eating all the food we had packed within the first hour,” you answered.

"I was a growing boy," Taehyung answered, laughing at the memories coming back to him, "and you were entirely too focused on your book to notice I was hungry."

"We lasted four hours before your mother found us."

"Four glorious hours," Taehyung said, "the finest afternoon of my childhood, and here we are again, planning the same sort of scheme only with considerably higher stakes,” Taehyung’s expression turned even more serious when he concluded, “I will accompany you to the convent, ____."

"Are you certain?" you asked, looking at him anxiously.

"Entirely," Taehyung said, taking your hand and pressing it between both of his, "I promised you, a very long time ago, that I would always come when you needed me. I do not intend to start breaking that promise now."

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The study in the Jeon townhouse was lit by only a few candles. The windows were shut, and the curtains had been drawn tightly across them.

Jungkook returned from the reception an hour earlier, still carrying the faint smell of champagne. He barely finished changing out of his uniform when the first of the revolutionists’ leaders arrived.

Jimin came in first. Seokjin followed soon after, tracking mud across the carpet without the slightest sign of regret. Dennis and Kilian arrived together, still arguing quietly about a shipment. Hana slipped in behind them without drawing attention to herself. And Walter, as usual, came last and appeared to be amused that everyone else bothered to arrive on time.

Owen was already there, seated on the floor beside the fire with his back against the fireplace. He looked far more pleased than he usually seemed. 

“You look rather satisfied with yourself,” Jungkook said, lowering himself into the chair behind his desk. He reached for the small stack of correspondence Jimin had left there earlier, “which usually means something has gone either very right or very wrong.”

“Neither,” Owen replied, “or maybe both. It depends on how you choose to look at it.”

"That is not an answer," Seokjin snorted.

"I will only say it until everyone is seated," Owen said, "I would rather not tell this story twice."

Seokjin, who claimed his usual spot by the fireplace next to Owen, said, "If this is another story about the Duke of Pemberton's new stables, Owen, I swear I will throw you into the fire myself."

"It is not about the stables," Owen confirmed.

“Then I am all ears,” Seokjin said.

Once everyone had settled, Owen leaned forward, looking far too pleased with whatever he had discovered, “You will all remember that I have a man in service at the Rohan estate,” Owen said, “he has been there for a little over two years, mostly pouring wine and pretending not to hear what the nobility says in front of him and as it turns out, they say considerably more than they should.”

“We remember your man at Rohan,” Jimin said dryly, “you have mentioned him once or twice.”

“Yes, well, tonight he earned every mention,” Owen said, overly proud of the man, “he was serving refreshments near the garden this afternoon during the wedding, less than ten feet from where Captain J’s fiance was having a conversation with an old friend of hers, a Mister Kim Taehyung. If I remembered correctly.”

Jungkook was going through the correspondence with only half his attention but at the mention of Taehyung’s name, he stopped and set the letters down, “Go on,” Jungkook said.

"My man did not think much of it at first," Owen continued, "young people talk, and he had a tray of champagne to attend to. But then he heard the word convent, which is not a word young nobles typically mention and he had the good sense to linger a moment longer than necessary."

"A convent?" Dennis repeated, glancing towards Jungkook.

"The Sisters of Saint Joseph," Owen said, “ten hours journey from the capital. Apparently your lady has spent her free time reading Church law in her father's study, and has arrived at the conclusion that a woman who presents herself to a religious order, cannot be dragged away from it. Not by her family, and as far as she has been able to find out, not even by the Crown."

The room went silent.

"She means to become a nun," Kilian slowly said.

"Yes," Owen said, "or to make herself inconvenient even for the Crown to marry her off.”

Seokjin let out a long whistle, "That is genuinely brilliant for a noble lady to come up with," he said, “Captain, your future wife has found a loophole, and she stumbled upon it in her father's study out of what, boredom?"

"Is it true? Could it really work?" Hana asked, turning towards Kilian, who has the closest thing among them to formal legal training.

“It is true,” Kilian said, “the law has fallen out of common use, but it was never formally removed from Church law and no monarch in the last two centuries has cared to challenge it publicly, not when doing so would risk an unnecessary conflict with the church.”

Kilian glanced towards Jungkook, “If Lady Ashwell presents herself willingly and the bishop agrees to accept her, the Crown would need his cooperation to remove her. Forcing the matter could provoke a conflict with the Church, and I doubt the Crown cares enough about this marriage to risk one.”

“So it would work,” Dennis said, “Lady Ashwell could avoid the marriage.”

“It could work,” Kilian agreed, “provided the bishop has no particular loyalty to the Crown and that is not something any of us can determine from this room tonight.”

"I am this close to writing to the woman myself and offering my services," Seokjin said, "purely out of interest. It is not every day one meets a noblewoman capable of citing Church law to inconvenience the Crown."

"You would be wasting the paper," Jimin replied, "she despises soldiers, and I imagine she would despise you within the first three sentences you say to her."

“I am remarkably charming in writing,” Seokjin protested, “far more charming than I am in person.”

Jungkook ignored their bickering and leaned back in his chair, resting one hand against his mouth. For a long moment, he said nothing, but the look in his eyes made it clear that he was considering the matter far more carefully than his silence suggested.

"Well, Captain?" Seokjin said, after the silence stretched long enough, "you have gone very quiet. Should we be concerned?"

Jungkook let out a short and unexpected laugh that startled everyone into glancing up to look at him.

"Look what we are up against," Jungkook said, shaking his head slightly, "she is clearly an intelligent noble lady.”

Jungkook lowered his hand from his mouth, “I have spent the better part of the week wondering whether she might eventually discover what goes on in this house. Now I find she has already devised a way to outplay the Crown, entirely on her own with nothing more than books.”

"You sound almost proud of her," Seokjin said. 

“There is more,” Owen continued, “she does not intend to travel alone. Her friend, Kim Taehyung, has agreed to accompany her. And he will be arranging the carriage and driver through a contact of his own. They are meeting the day after tomorrow, late in the morning, outside a pastry shop on Fenwick Lane. From there, they intend to travel directly to the convent.”

"A driver," Walter answered, speaking for the first time that evening, "did your man happen to overhear a description of this driver?"

"Kim Taehyung apparently described him as someone who has done far stranger favors for him before and never once spoken of them again."

Walter went silent for a moment, and then, slowly, a smile began to spread across his face, "That," Walter said, "sounds a very great deal like Theo."

Every head in the room turned towards Walter.

"Theo," Jimin repeated, "our Theo?"

"How many discreet men in this city do you imagine go about arranging carriages for young lords who cannot be seen doing anything themselves?" Walter said, "Kim Taehyung has used him three times before, to my knowledge. Theo has been moving things and people around the capital for nobles for half a decade which is precisely why he has been useful to us for nearly as long."

"You are telling me," Jungkook said slowly, "that the very driver Kim Taehyung intends to hire to help Lady Ashwell move out of the city already belongs to the revolutionists."

"Yes," Walter confirmed, " the city is smaller than any of the nobles ever care to admit, and that discretion from a servant is a rarer trade than they assume. There are only so many men in the capital willing to drive a carriage and ask no questions.”

Seokjin let out a delighted laugh and clapped his hands together, "This is the finest turn of luck I have heard in months," he continued, "the woman devises a plan clever enough to trouble the Crown, and it will be for nothing because the driver she has actually works for us."

"Here is what I believe we should do," Jungkook said, standing up from his chair, “first, Kim Taehyung cannot be permitted to travel with her. If he is present, he will become a pain in our plan. He clearly cares for her, which means he will not simply stand by and allow anything to happen, however carefully we stage it."

"You want him delayed," Dennis said.

"I want him to be occupied by something else," Jungkook corrected, "somewhere convincing enough that he won’t suspect it was arranged. Otherwise, he will go straight to her, and everything that has just fallen into our hands will become considerably more difficult.”

“An emergency,” Owen interrupted, “something urgent enough to demand his assistance.. an accident, perhaps or a stranger in distress.”

"He strikes me as precisely the sort of man who cannot walk past someone in need without stopping to help," Jungkook said, "arrange it for the morning of. Somewhere along his route to Fenwick Lane, close enough that he will still believe he has time to reach her afterward, and far enough that by the time he realises otherwise, it will already be too late to matter."

“How long a delay are we aiming for?” Dennis asked, already reaching for a scrap of paper and pencil, as he always did once a plan began to take a shape.

“Thirty minutes. She may wait that long, but no longer, she does not strike me as the sort to wait indefinitely when something of this nature is concerned,” Jungkook replied.

“Then we should also think of the possibility that she might not pick Theo’s carriage at all, without Taehyung present,” Dennis said, “if her patience runs out, she may simply hire the nearest available coach herself. In that case, Theo may never be the man who drives her.”

“Then Theo should not be the only man we rely on,” Kilian said, “I shall speak to others besides him, men I trust to take her where she is to be taken. Better more nets than one, Captain, considering how clever she has already proved herself to be.”

"See to it," Jungkook said, "I would rather spend the day bribing every coachman on Fenwick Lane or making sure they are all part of the revolutionists than risk losing track of her because we assumed she would behave predictably. What concerns me is what becomes of every person in this room and everything we have spent years working toward if she succeeds in leaving. because the future of the revolutionists are relying on this marriage.”

“I can deploy two men to delay Kim Taehyung, so consider him handled,” Jimin said, still scratching notes across his his paper.

“Good,” Jungkook said, before turning his attention to Walter, “I shall leave Theo to you. He is to do precisely as Kim Taehyung expects until it no longer serves us for him to do so. She must not suspect the carriage itself, and she is not to be taken to the convent at all.”

Jungkook paused, his expression turning even more serious, “I want her to be brought somewhere more convenient for us, and I would prefer that she discover the change of plans only when it is far too late to alter her own.”

"You are enjoying this," Seokjin said, teasing his Captain.

"I am doing what is necessary," Jungkook said, though the corner of his own mouth curved into a small smile, "the fact that I might also find it entertaining is a separate matter."

Seokjin held up both hands in surrender, grinning as he made his way toward the door, "For what it's worth, I would pay a great deal of money to see her face the moment she realises."

"So would I," Jimin admitted.

Jungkook thought to himself for the second time that week, that it was a great pity you would never know how much your intelligence have impressed him.

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The next two days you spent behaving exactly as you always do. But your mother, it turned out, could somehow see straight through you regardless.

Breakfast the following morning was  quieter than usual, Margot already moved to the Rohan’s household, and your father was already gone to his study with a stack of correspondence relating to your marriage. 

Your mother was the only one present, sitting just across from you, "You have not touched your eggs," she said.

"I am not hungry,” you answered.

"You are never hungry the morning after you have decided to do something," your mother said, setting her cup down, "I have watched you do this since you were seven years old, ____. You go quiet, you push your food around your plate, and then, within a week, something will happen."

"Whatever do you mean, mother?" you asked, before adding, "I am simply tired. The wedding required a lot of standing, socialising, and smiling, and I am not naturally suited to these."

"Mhmm..” she answered, “well, what you said to those ladies at the refreshment table, half of the society was still discussing it by the time the reception was over."

You felt your face warming up slightly and busied yourself with the tea in front of you, of course the words have reached your mother, you thought to yourself.

“It was nothing but a misunderstanding," you said.

"Mhm.." your mother said, in a tone that suggested she did not believe you, "you know, I was rather like you once, before your father."

This was, you have to admit, not where you expected the conversation would go, and you looked up properly for the first time since sitting down, "You were never like me, Mother."

"I was more like you than you imagine," your mother said, "I was seventeen, and my own mother arranged a match with a man I met twice, and I spent a full month convinced I would rather run off and live with my aunt in the countryside than marry a stranger."

"Then what happened?"

“Your father saved me, which is not the same thing as what you are going through," your mother said, before continuing, "I am not encouraging you to fall in love with Captain Jungkook. I am only telling you that I understand better than you seem to think I do. He does not seem like a bad guy, it is better than being married off to someone twenty years older than you. Just try to hate him less."

"I do not hate the Captain," you answered, "I find him arrogant and infuriating, and I do not trust him, but I do not hate him."

"That is how a great many marriages begin," your mother said, "and a surprising number of them end rather better than anyone expected."

"This may not end up like one of those marriages, Mother."

"Maybe," your mother agreed, reaching across the table to briefly cover your hand with her own, "but I would ask you, whatever you have decided, whatever it is you are not telling me this morning, to be careful, ____. You have always been the clever one of my daughters. But being clever does not always keep a person as safe as they believe it will."

You held her gaze a moment longer, wondering how much your mother truly suspected, and how much she simply chose, out of some motherly kindness, not to ask outright.

“I will be careful,” you said.

"See that you are," your mother said, releasing your hand, "now eat your eggs. You will need your strength for whatever it is you are not telling me, and I would rather not spend the next fortnight explaining to your father why his youngest daughter has fainted from an empty stomach."

You laughed and picked up your fork.

Your mother did not press the matter further, though you caught her watching you once or twice more over the course of the meal, with an expression you could not entirely read, it was something between concern and a resignation that oddly looked almost like pride.

You spent the rest of the day exactly as you always do: reading in the library, taking tea, eating lunch with your parents, all the while turning your plan over and over in your mind until every detail has been perfected.

You would tell Daisy that you intended to spend the morning at the library, as you so often do that the excuse would not be suspicious at all. From there, you would walk your usual route to the pastry shop on Fenwick Lane, where Taehyung would be waiting with the carriage and the driver he had arranged would arrive around the same time. Together, you would make the journey to the Sisters of Saint Joseph.

Your parents would be searching for you, of course. But by the time they discovered where you were gone, you would already be within the convent walls, under the protection of the Church and beyond their power to bring you home.

You packed a small bag the night before and hid it under your bed, taking only what you think will be necessary: a modest amount of coin, several pieces of jewellery that might fetch a handsome price if needed, two changes of clothing, and the book you have been reading.

And inside of the bed, folded carefully was the letter you have written and rewritten more times than you cared to admit. You intended to place it directly into the hands of whichever Sister welcomed you first. It explained precisely what you meant to pursue and why, leaving no room for anyone to send you home before you have been given the chance to be heard.

You did not sleep well that night, whether from nerves or anticipation you could not entirely say.

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Taehyung was planning to arrive at Fenwick Lane earlier. He was dressed in plain clothing to attract less attention from his surroundings. 

What Taehyung did not know, and had no reason to suspect, was that he had been followed for the last two days by a man who reported everywhere Taehyung went, everyone he spoke with, and the hour at which he planned to leave his estate.

He made it exactly four streets before a man stepped directly into his path, breathless with an expression of alarm across his face that stopped Taehyung mid-walk.

"Sir," the man said, "forgive me, I would not trouble a stranger under normal circumstances, but there has been an accident, just around the corner, a woman has fallen and struck her head badly, and I cannot find anyone willing to help me carry her to a physician."

"Where?" Taehyung said, already turning his full attention towards the stranger.

The man led him down a narrow side street, where, sure enough, a woman lay slumped against a wall. Another man knelt beside her, pressing a cloth to what appeared to be a wound at her temple. The entire scene looked urgent and tense that it did not occur to Taehyung, not even for a second, that any part of it might have been staged.

“She needs a physician at once,” the kneeling man said, “there is one only three streets from here, but I cannot carry her alone, and my friend has a weak back. If you would lend us your strength, sir, it should take no more than a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Taehyung was already taking his coat off, folding it carefully beneath the woman’s head, “here, allow me.”

“Bless you, sir,” the woman murmured, her eyelids fluttering weakly, “bless you, truly. I feared no one would stop.”

“You may thank me once we have delivered you safely to the physician,” Taehyung said, “for now, let us get you there.”

Only then did Taehyung think of you, waiting at the pastry shop and searching the street for him. Just a few minutes, surely a few minutes would make no difference. 

This shouldn't take long, please wait for me, I will not take long, I promise, Taehyung thought to himself as he lifted the woman carefully between himself and the kneeling stranger. 

in the end, it took longer than a few minutes. 

The physician's office was further than promised, the streets were more crowded than expected, and once they arrived, the woman herself insisted on thanking Taehyung at such length and with such tearful gratitude that he could not simply turn and leave her mid-sentence. 

It did not occur to Taehyung that the woman’s injury appeared less severe once the cloth was removed from her temple nor did he notice that both men vanished the moment the physician’s door closed behind them.

Once the woman was finally safely delivered into competent hands, Taehyung realised with horror that nearly forty minutes had passed.

"Forgive me," he said to the physician, already backing towards the door, "I am terribly late for an appointment," and did not wait to hear the reply.

He ran the entire way to Fenwick Lane, and when Taehyung arrived at the pastry shop, he only found the street outside it empty.

"____?" he said, to no one, looking for you at every corner of the street. Taehyung then checked inside the shop itself, asked the woman behind the counter whether she saw a young lady waiting outside, and received only a sympathetic shake of her head in response.

He stood there for a long moment afterwards, his hands pressed to his knees, catching his breath. 

Wherever you have gone, Taehyung understood that you have gone there alone.

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You waited exactly ten minutes before you started becoming anxious.

Taehyung has never once in all the years you have known him, failed to arrive when he said he would, and you reminded yourself of this fact with each passing minute.

You tried to divert your focus by pretending to examine the pastries in the shop window, by walking slowly, and by checking the small clock mounted above a shop nearby.

"Will you be wanting anything, miss?" the shopkeeper asked, for the second time in the past ten minutes now.

"No. Thank you," you said, "I am waiting for someone."

Taehyung is coming, you told yourself, he promised.

Ten minutes became twenty and twenty became closer to thirty, and you were doing your best not to count. But you have chosen this street at this specific hour because it would not draw attention, but the longer you stand there, the more aware you became of every person who glanced your way and every possibility that someone might recognise the youngest daughter of the Duke of Ashwell standing alone on a public street with a small bag at her feet.

A woman leaving the bakery looked at you twice, a delivery boy looked at you as if he recognised who you were, and even the shopkeeper started to stare at you from behind the glass of her store.

You could not wait much longer. 

Every minute was a minute in which your absence from home might be noticed. Daisy might begin to wonder why you brought your small bag to the library, even after you told her it’s filled with books. Your mother might send someone after you, worse, your father might learn of it before you could travel far enough.

You looked once more towards the far end of the street and there was still no sign of Taehyung.

A coach stood near the corner, its driver leaning against one wheel. And for one brief moment you wondered whether waiting a little longer might be wiser.

You made your decision and there was no time left to waste. You grabbed your bag, you and walked across the street towards the driver, “I need to travel north, along the river road, to the convent of Saint Joseph,” you told the driver, “as quickly as you are able to get me there.”

The driver was a large man dressed in a plain black coat. He tipped his hat, took your bag from your hand, and opened the carriage door without asking a single question.

At the time, you mistook his silence for discretion.

What you did not notice was the glance he exchanged with a man standing across the street.

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The driver slowed down the horses and glanced back at you through the small window between the carriage and his seat around one kilometre into the journey.

“It is a long journey to Saint Joseph, miss,” he said, “almost a day in good weather, but it would take almost twelve hours since the roads became poor due to yesterday’s weather.”

You leaned forward slightly, “I thought it could be reached in ten hours?”

“It can, ordinarily. But I would not advise travelling the northern roads after dark and in this grey weather,” he said, nodding toward the grey clouds, “there is an inn six hours outside the city where drivers making the journey commonly stop. It is a nice inn, and the road beyond it is safer taken in daylight. I suggest we remain there tonight and continue at first light.”

The suggestion was one you didn’t particularly like because right now every hour mattered, and you hoped to be safely within the convent before anyone at home discovered where you were gone.

For one fleeting second, you wished you were able to take one of your family’s private cars instead. It would have been faster, safer, and far less dependent upon the judgement of a stranger. But at this time and age, traveling by car was reserved only for the head of the household, and a disappearance of one of your father’s expensive vehicles could never be done without the whole estate taking notice. 

Hiring a public coach was the only choice that offered you any hope of secrecy.

“Is stopping truly necessary?” you asked.

“I would not recommend otherwise,” he replied, “the road passes through several kilometres of woodland, and there have been robberies there after nightfall. I would rather lose a few hours than place you in danger, miss.”

You looked through the window at the city gradually becoming smaller behind you. Returning was no longer an option, and seeking another coach would only waste more time. The delay was inconvenient, but not unreasonable and by the following morning, you would still be beyond your father’s immediate reach.

“Very well,” you said at last, “we shall stop at the inn.”

The driver tipped his hat at you, “A wise decision, miss.”

You settled back into your seat as the carriage moved forward, telling yourself that the stop was only a sensible precaution.

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The lobby of the inn was small and warmly lit.

There was a modest sofa arranged near the entrance, occupied by several men in military uniforms who briefly looked up as you opened the door, and returned to their conversation right after.

Except for one of them, who did not look away at all.

He sat in the centre of the sofa, one of his arms stretched along the back of the sofa. 

He was wearing a white shirt with the top three buttons left undone, revealing his chest. He looked as if he has been waiting there for some time.

For one brief moment, you told yourself it could not possibly be him. But the longer you stared, the less room there was for doubt.

It was him.

His broad shoulders, the composed way he held himself, and the way his eyes found yours the instant the door opened and did not once leave them, there could be no mistake.

The plan you spent days carefully arranging collapsed all at once.

Captain Jeon Jungkook slowly stood up from the sofa, and the smile that spread across his face was without question, the most infuriating smile you have ever seen.

"Oh," Jungkook said, slowly approaching you, "fancy seeing you here, my lady."

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You wanted to run. 

But there was nowhere left to go. The driver was already at the desk, talking to the innkeeper. The sky outside was almost dark, and Jungkook was already walking towards you. 

You were furious, how could he possibly have known? Who told him? 

Only Taehyung knew of your plan, and he would never have betrayed you, not after everything the two of you have shared. So, there was only one reasonable explanation.

“You followed me here,” you said, confronting the Captain in front of his men, “you followed me here.”

"Did I?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head as if the accusation genuinely puzzled him, "I was under the impression that I arrived first at this inn, my lady, which would make it rather difficult for me to have followed you."

"Do not lie to me, Captain," you said, taking a step closer to him despite every instinct urging you to not do so, "I can see right through you."

"I rarely lie," Jungkook answered, "it requires far too much effort to keep track of it afterwards. As it happens, I visit this inn often and many of my men live in the surrounding villages, as you can see,” he said as he nodded towards the sofa, and the men seated there raised and waved their hands in greeting.

You did not greet them back. You hated soldiers too much to spare them more than a passing glance, so your attention remained focused entirely on Jungkook.

"Explain yourself," you demanded.

"Well, if you insist," Jungkook sighed, closing the distance between you, as he looked down right into your eyes, “First, I did not lie. I do come here often, ask any one of my men if you doubt me. Second, your mother came to see me two days ago. She told me she feared you might try to run."

Jungkook was telling the truth. 

Even though the leaders of the revolutionists knew of your plan for two days now, your mother's visit to Jungkook's estate was not something any of them had orchestrated. It was something Jungkook and his men did not expect. It was as if the final piece of their plan had simply fallen into their hands.

You remembered your mother across the breakfast table, watching you for far longer than usual. And you clearly remembered the strange warning she gave you about how being clever is not always enough to keep a person safe.

You knew she suspected you running away, but you didn’t realise that your mother would act on her suspicion. It was very out of her character to do so.

You felt as if you have been betrayed. Your mother, who let you keep to your books, silences and excuses, had gone behind your back to the one man in the kingdom you least wanted informed of your plans. 

And yet, she also did not go to your father who would have gone through even greater lengths to prevent you from running away. And you realised, what your mother did was its own kind of protection, but simply was not in the form you hoped for. 

"You should not run from your own house and leave your poor mother to suffer her anxiety alone," Jungkook said, "she was quite beside herself, my lady. I have rarely seen a duchess so sad."

"My mother's mental state is none of your concern, Captain," you said.

"It became my concern the moment she cried in my living room," Jungkook said, "you may resent me for many things. But I came here because a woman who is about to be my mother in law, asked me to make sure that her daughter did not get herself killed travelling alone. 

“Did you even have a plan, my lady?” Jungkook asked, you could tell he was teasing you and it infuriated you even more, “or did you simply just trust the coachman to bring you somewhere far enough?”

"I had a plan," you said, rolling your eyes at him, aware of exactly how little that plan was worth now with your soon to be husband standing three feet away from you.

"Oh?" Jungkook said, tilting his head with what looked like genuine curiosity, "so what was your plan, exactly? I confess I am rather eager to hear how far you intended to run away before someone recognised a duke's daughter travelling alone."

You sighed again. 

There was little point in trying to keep your plans a secret now.

Since you would never have another chance like this. The moment you returned, the estate would be placed on high alert, guards would follow your every step, servants would report your movements, and every door beyond the grounds would be watched.

There would be no second escape.

You have admitted your defeat.

You will soon be marrying the man in front of you, and there was no way for you to escape.

"There is a convent, just ten eight hours north of the capital and if a woman presents herself and asks to commit to the Church, she cannot be removed from the convent, not by her family, and as far as I could understand, not by the Crown either.”

"You meant to become a nun," Jungkook said, before adding, “and act against a royal decree.. that is the most reckless yet intelligent idea I have heard from a noblewoman.”

"It hardly matters now," you said in defeat.

“You are correct,” Jungkook agreed, with a smile so smug you had to stop yourself from slapping his face.

You suddenly became aware of the innkeeper hovering near the two of you, waiting with an apologetic look of a man who had bad news, "Captain," the innkeeper said, playing with his hands, "forgive me, but I have only just been informed. With the weather tonight, we have considerably more travelers than usual, and I am afraid we have exactly one room left in the house."

"One room?" you repeated.

"One room," the innkeeper confirmed, looking between the two of you, "I truly am sorry, my lady, and Captain Jungkook. I would offer you my own quarters, but my wife would have my head."

You were now even more annoyed and furious at the universe for turning your evening this way. A perfectly good escape plan, days in the making, was reduced to this; an inn, a fiance you did not want, and now, apparently, a single room the two of you have to share.

But beneath the annoyance, you could not entirely erase the satisfaction the moment you noticed the irritation across Jungkook's face at the innkeeper's announcement. 

This was clearly the one thing the Captain failed to anticipate, and you found yourself taking pleasure in watching him realise it.

"Ah," the innkeeper added quickly, sensing the tension, "but the room is an ensuite, it is very spacious. And there is a sofa in the room itself, it is large enough to be used as a bed if the Captain does not mind sleeping on it for a night."

"How reassuring," you stated.

“Walk with me, Lady Ashwell.”

“I have not agreed to walk anywhere with you,” you answered.

“No,” he agreed, “you have not, but I suspect you will anyway. Your lady-in-waiting is watching us very closely from the gate, and if you turn around and leave after only four minutes, she will report it to your mother by supper and your mother will then tell the Queen, and neither of us wants to receive that letter.”

He offered you his arm, “Ten minutes, my lady. One walk around the fountain and I promise I will not smoke.”

You looked at his arm and then looked past him towards the gate. Daisy stood exactly where he said, watching the two of you without even trying to hide it.

You sighed before finally accepting his offer, “Ten minutes,” you did not take his arm, but began walking beside him anyway, “not a moment longer.”

“Understood,” Jungkook nodded. 

To Jungkook, it seemed only fitting that you were so detached from the real world, especially when your father was among the nobles on his kill list.

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a/n: this takes place on the night before

Last night, you spent several hours thinking about how to best ensure that the Queen’s plan of arranged marriage between you and the Duke of Jeon will never progress beyond its first meeting.

Sometime after midnight, you turned off the lights in your room and lit up a candle. With the candle on your desk burned down to its final parts of wax and a book lying open before you, you came up with three possible plans.

Plans you believed might drive Captain Jungkook into a realisation that you were entirely unsuitable for him.

All three plans were based on a conclusion you’ve found: soldiers and noblemen value dignity above nearly everything else. Men throughout the Kingdom of Leon also have this obsession for appearing to be in control. They liked their households to be orderly, wives agreeable, and reputations free from anything negative. 

This then led you to believe that there is no faster way to repel a man who cares deeply about dignity than to demonstrate that you have none yourself.

Therefore, a man such as Captain Jeon Jungkook who is disciplined enough to command an entire regiment, would surely find the idea of being seen beside a woman who did not know how to behave like a proper lady, entirely unbearable.

You see no flaw or logical fallacies in your plan.

Once your plan was put into action, Jungkook would return to his regiment that very evening, inform his men that the Queen has made an extraordinary error, and write to Her Majesty himself requesting that the arrangement be cancelled. This would spare you the trouble of writing a letter to the Queen.

You could even imagine the relief on your father’s face once the Queen cancels this arrangement as the match would end through no fault of House Ashwell. It would end solely because Captain Jungkook could not stand the strange behaviour of the Ashwell’s youngest daughter, which is fortunately for everyone involved, was something most people already expected of you.

After coming up with these plans last night, you felt rather satisfied with yourself.

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a/n: back to the present

Walking beside Jungkook now, with the trickling sound of the fountain nearby and the trees shielding the two of you from the grey sky above, you decided there was no better time to put the first part of your plan into action.

You raised your left hand, slowly removed the glove covering it, and began picking your nose in the middle of the park.

It was not something any proper lady ought to do in public, and certainly not in front of the man she was expected to marry.

And you had chosen to carry out this perfect plan with Captain Jeon Jungkook, Duke of Jeon, walking at your side with his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

Jungkook glanced at you and did not so much as blink.

Perfect, you thought to yourself. 

That single glance from the Captain was surely proof enough that your plan had work. Captain Jungkook is, after all, simply another man who imagined himself marrying the perfect lady, and the perfect lady does not pick her nose in the middle of a public park. 

So you have done it.

You have successfully driven him away from the thought of proceeding with this marriage and you couldn’t help feeling rather proud of the lady you’ve become. All those years spent reading and studying did not fail you. 

Education truly is the most powerful weapon.

Jungkook had to suppress his laugh. He was impressed by the lengths you were willing to go to avoid marrying him. To his credit, if Jungkook was not attempting to bring down the Kingdom of Leon and if he didn’t need you to be his pawn, Jungkook might have been equally determined to avoid marrying you.

He noticed the people passing nearby beginning to look at you. A woman slowed down as she walked past, one of the elderly gentlemen near the fountain lowered his newspaper, and many others were glancing at you. So it would not take long for the story to travel from the park to someone with access to the palace. Then, by evening, half of the city might believe that Lady Ashwell and the Duke of Jeon were entirely unsuited to one another. And by nighttime, the Queen might believe it too. 

Jungkook understood your plan perfectly. And as a Captain known throughout the kingdom for his strategies, Jungkook did what he believed was necessary to preserve a marriage that must proceed.

Jungkook lifted his right hand, removed the glove, and did precisely the same thing.

You first caught his movement on your peripheral view. When you turned your head towards him and realised what he was doing, you stopped walking. 

"What are you doing, Captain?" you asked. 

“The same thing you are doing,” Jungkook replied, “I have always wondered what it would be like to pick my nose in a public setting. Lady Ashwell, you are remarkably brave.”

You looked at him in disbelief, while Jungkook stared back at you entirely unbothered, as if this was perfectly ordinary, “Captain, may I ask how you are not bothered by my improper action?” you asked.

“Why should I be?” Jungkook said, “I imagine everyone wishes to break the rules occasionally.”

“It is common decency, Captain, to not to do such a thing in public,” you answered, reminding him of common etiquettes. 

“I have only just done the very same as you, Lady Ashwell,” Jungkook said, tilting his head slightly.

“I had an urge,” you replied, looking away from him.

“As did I,” Jungkook said.

You realised rather late that starting your carefully devised plan by picking your nose in the middle of a public park might have been too reckless an opening move. Even worse, it seemed to have failed entirely. Maybe, as a Captain, Jungkook has already witnessed sights far more unpleasant and improper than a lady picking her nose, and therefore found the act to be normal.

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So you moved to the second method you had devised the night before.

“Captain Jungkook,” you said, turning your head towards him, “perhaps this meeting would be more delightful if you could tell me a joke.”

Jungkook looked at you, surprised at the sudden interest, “A joke?”

“Yes,” you said, “something amusing.”

“I do not consider myself a particularly humorous man,” Jungkook replied.

“Oh, do try!” you urged, “surely the youngest Captain in the kingdom has at least one joke.”

Jungkook looked at you for a few seconds, evidently suspicious of the sudden request, before finally agreeing, “Very well, lady.”

Jungkook had to consider which joke a lady such as yourself would be most likely to dislike, then remembered one Seokjin had told him, “A royal physician once asked a knight, ‘Do you still talk to yourself?’”

Jungkook paused, allowing you time to think of an answer before continuing the joke, “The knight replied, ‘No, we had an argument.’”

You laughed, loudly.

It was an undignified laugh, far louder than the joke deserved, and ending in a snort so unrefined that even you were faintly startled by it. It was precisely the sort of sound your mother had spent years in your childhood training you not to make.

Surely such a loud and undignified laugh would be enough to make Captain Jungkook reconsider the marriage. There was simply no possibility that he would willingly spend the rest of his life with a woman who picked her nose in public and then laughed like a madwoman.

Once again, you felt rather proud of yourself. This was without question, the finest plan you have ever devised. You could not help offering a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods above for giving you a father who cared so deeply about his daughters’ education.

You were brilliant.

At least, that was what you believed until Captain Jungkook began laughing in precisely the same manner.

His laugh was loud, graceless, and followed by a snort, a few snorts even, that were so remarkably similar to yours that you stopped smiling altogether.

Jungkook understood what you were attempting to do almost as soon as the first unnatural sound left your mouth. You were not behaving badly because you lacked manners, but you were behaving badly because you wanted Jungkook to believe that you did, and Jungkook found this considerably more interesting.

It was funny to him that you spent the first minutes of meeting him insulting his profession, refusing his arm, and attempting to make yourself appear so unsuitable that he would withdraw from the arrangement himself. 

Jungkook glanced towards the people nearby. Several heads already turned to look at the two of you, and one woman was whispering something to her companion behind a gloved hand. If Jungkook appeared embarrassed, offended, or eager to distance himself from you, those witnesses would leave the park believing that the meeting had been a disaster.

That was precisely what you wanted, and what Jungkook could not let you have. So he laughed as loudly as you did, even snorted a few times, and then he looked at you as if he was completely entertained by his future wife.

Now, anyone watching would not see an ill-mannered lady humiliating a respectable Captain and Duke. They would see two equally strange people enjoying one another’s company.

Jungkook smiled at the horror spreading across your face.

Your plan did not merely fail, Jungkook has made it evident that the Queen’s matchmaking was once again, perfect.

“You are mocking me,” you said.

“We have the same laugh,” Jungkook replied, “though I understand your confusion to me mocking you. I imagine no one has laughed the same way you do before.”

“No one laughs in such a manner, it is entirely improper,” you added.

“And yet here we both are,” Jungkook said, “I would say that makes us rather well suited, would you not? Perhaps the Queen was onto something after all.”

“The Queen,” you continued, “has clearly never heard either of us laugh.”

“I should hope not. I do not believe Her Majesty could withstand it,” Jungkook replied.

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You narrowed your eyes at Jungkook.

You could not believe that a man such as him truly laughed that way. 

A Captain who carried himself with such irritating composure, who even sat straight while smoking, could not possibly possess a laugh that sounded so remarkably like your fake laugh. 

He was lying. You figured Jungkook had seen through your plan and decided to imitate you and you refused to allow him the satisfaction.

Very well, you thought to yourself. This was precisely why you had prepared a third plan, in case the other two did not work. 

You began walking in the strangest manner you could, swinging your arms with exaggerated movements.

Jungkook, without missing a step, adopted the very same walk beside you.

A fully grown Captain and Duke was now marching down the central path of Darlington Park like a clown. And beside him was another duke’s daughter doing precisely the same thing.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, finally coming to a stop.

“Entirely,” Jungkook agreed as the two of you began walking normally, “but I have concluded that you are considerably more interesting than the Queen’s letter suggested. I do not believe that was a compliment I wanted to give, so I would ask that you not enjoy it too much.”

"I am not enjoying anything," you said.

"Of course not," Jungkook said.

You passed the hedge the groundskeeper has abandoned as he focused on the two of you. Then you noticed the two elderly gentlemen had also by now given up every subtlety and were staring openly at you and Captain Jungkook. While another pair of young women walking arm in arm began whispering the moment the two of you passed them.

"I do not understand," you finally said frustratedly, "why can you not recognise the service I am attempting to do for us both?”

Jungkook glanced at you but said nothing.

“I am trying to spare you a lifetime of me, Captain. Of every ridiculous and improper thing I might do between now and whatever unfortunate day we are made to stand before an altar together,” you continued. 

You gestured between the two of you before adding, “I am offering you the opportunity to walk away with your dignity entirely intact and inform the Queen that we are catastrophically unsuited to one another. You could be free of this arrangement within the week, if only you would cooperate instead of imitating every foolish thing I attempt.”

In another life, Jungkook might have thanked you for the escape you were offering him. But not in this one.

In this life, he had a kingdom to overthrow, and however little he liked you, he needed the marriage to proceed.

"Marriage with me wouldn't be so bad," Jungkook said.

"Yes," you muttered, "you are right. It would be worse."

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You have barely taken two steps when a voice called the two of you from the direction of the gate.

“Captain Jeon! And Lady Ashwell, is it not?”

You and Jungkook turned around to find a man approaching the two of you. He wore a finely tailored grey coat and carried a walking stick, swinging it with unnecessary enthusiasm. 

You didn’t recognise him immediately, but your sister Margot had mentioned him once or twice over dinner, though it took awhile for you to remember who he was. 

“Viscount Lee,” Jungkook said, bowing his head, “what an unexpected pleasure.”

“Duke,” Viscount Lee replied as he reached you, looking between the two of you with curiosity. It was the sort of look that made it perfectly clear he intended to remember every detail of the encounter, “I confess, I did not know the two of you were so well acquainted.”

“We are not,” you said.

“Darling,” Jungkook said, turning towards you as he put a hand over his heart as if you'd struck him there directly with a thunder, “you wound me!”

You stared at him in shock and disgust.

And your mouth opened to correct him and to explain to Viscount Lee that whatever he believed he had just witnessed was a misrepresentation of the truth. But Jungkook did not give you the opportunity to do so.

“Her Majesty has chosen us for one another,” Jungkook said smoothly, his hand falling from his chest to rest briefly at your back. The gesture was so natural, and so entirely unexpected, that you nearly stepped forward from the surprise of it.

“Today is our first meeting and it appears, Viscount, that we are rather compatible,” Jungkook added, smiling at you.

“I can see that,” Viscount Lee said, “it was quite a sight, watching the two of you. I confess I stopped to observe for rather longer than I intended, even your gestures appeared to match, Captain. I do not believe I have ever witnessed such a thing between two people who have only just met!”

“We are told the Queen is rarely mistaken in these matters,” Jungkook said.

“Evidently not,” Viscount Lee proudly agreed, before turning towards you, “Lady Ashwell, I must admit, I have heard that you kept almost entirely to your books and rarely ventured beyond your father’s library. It is a pleasure to discover that the rumours were somewhat exaggerated.”

“They were not exaggerated,” you replied, “I do keep to my books, Viscount. This morning was an exception.”

“She possesses a remarkable number of exceptions, as it happens. I have had the privilege of witnessing several of them already,” Jungkook said.

Viscount Lee appeared delighted by what he was hearing, though you could hear the mockery beneath the Captain’s words.

“Have you indeed?” Viscount Lee asked, “you must tell me, Captain-”

“I am afraid Lady Ashwell is expected home,” Jungkook interrupted with such ease that the Viscount appeared not to notice he had been interrupted at all, “and I would not wish to keep her from her family any longer.”

“You understand, of course. A man in my position must be terribly careful about appearances, particularly where a lady’s reputation is concerned,” Jungkook said, offering the Viscount an apologetic smile.

“Of course,” Viscount Lee said, though his eyes remained upon you for a moment longer, “I shall not keep either of you. Though I confess, Captain, I shall be very interested to see how this arrangement develops. The entire city will be interested, I imagine, once word begins to spread.”

“I imagine it will,” Jungkook replied.

Viscount Lee bowed first to you and then to Jungkook before continuing down the path, satisfied with the acquired gossip for his evening conversation. The moment he was out of sight, you turned to look at Jungkook.

“Darling?” you repeated.

"A normal term of endearment, Lady Ashwell, nothing more," Jungkook said, entirely unbothered.

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You walked another few steps in silence before asking him another question,  "Just answer me. Why?" 

"My lady?"

“Why do you wish for this arrangement to continue?” you asked, “you have made it perfectly clear this morning that you find it every bit as inconvenient as I do. You did not ask for it any more than I did, and yet you have spent the entire morning doing precisely the opposite of what one might expect.”

You turned towards the Captain, “By every indication you have given me, you are actively attempting to keep this marriage alive rather than allowing it to die quietly, as we both so clearly wish it would.”

You looked into his eyes as you stated, “I would like to know why.”

Jungkook could not tell you the truth. He could not say that you were just a useful piece on a chessboard. He could not explain that marrying into House Ashwell might provide the revolutionists with a way into the secret meetings they had spent years attempting to infiltrate, or that it might bring him closer to the nobles whose names filled the list hidden inside his uniform.

Jungkook certainly could not tell you that the marriage might give them the information the revolutionists needed to begin dismantling the kingdom’s ruling order and move against the powerful men who have protected it for so long.

So Jungkook gave you the most convincing answer he could think of, though he knew any lady would not take it well, including you.

“Because if I am to be married, I would rather it be to one of the prettiest daughters society currently has to offer than gamble on whatever wife I might be handed next. You are considered a great beauty in society, my lady. I am a practical man, I have thought about this arrangement and concluded that it is a favourable one, that is why,” Jungkook stated.

You did not know what to say, so you just stared at him.

For a moment, you thought you had misheard.

Perhaps you didn’t hear some part of the conversation. You almost asked Captain Jungkook to repeat himself, simply to be certain that did not misheard or misunderstood. But the expression on his face told you that you have heard him perfectly.

“What a disgusting pig you are,” you said, looking at him with disgust, “Truly, soldiers are a sore upon society and I am beginning to understand again precisely why.”

The look on Jungkook’s face changed and for one brief moment you saw that you had finally struck him somewhere it hurt. It was the first insult you have managed to hurt him with all morning.

“You asked, my lady,” Jungkook replied, “and I gave you an honest answer as I did not take you for the sort of woman who preferred to be lied to.”

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The study at the Jeon townhouse looked the same as it had the night before. The same tall windows stood behind the heavy curtains, keeping most of the grey afternoon light from entering the room, and the books and reports scattered around the long table.

Jimin was there when Jungkook returned, seated in the chair nearest the door with a book open on his lap that he did not appear to actually be reading, and Seokjin claimed his usual spot by the fire, boots propped up on the table. And both of them looked up the moment Jungkook entered.

"Well," Seokjin said, not bothering to move his boots, "Captain J, it’s nice to see you're alive. I confess I did not expect you back quite so soon. I assumed a proper courtship would require at least a full morning of exchanging poetries and longing glances."

Jungkook walked across the room without answering his man. He pulled his gloves off, and set them down beside the letter from the Crown still sitting on his desk. Then poured himself a whisky and sat on the chair behind the desk.

"Well?" Jimin asked, setting his book aside.

"It went as I expected," Jungkook said.

Seokjin raised his eyebrow, "That's it? Did you not promise me a story?"

"There is a story," Jungkook answered, “The youngest daughter of House Ashwell is more intelligent than the letter suggested and considerably more stubborn than I anticipated. She stood up for herself, even called me an arrogant prick in the process. Then she spent the walk attempting to convince me and the society that we were unsuited by behaving as badly as she could in public. I had to do the same as her at every turn so nothing negative about our match reach the Queen’s ears. I had to do it for the sake of the revolutionists and it worked well enough. I believe Viscount Lee is repeating the story to half the city as we speak and none of it unfavorably."

"So the marriage will proceed?" Jimin asked.

"The marriage proceeds," Jungkook agreed.

Seokjin waited a moment, clearly expecting more, but when he realised his Captain was not going to say anything more, he asked, "That's genuinely all? By the look on your face when you walked in, I felt I was owed considerably more entertainment than this."

"There is one concern. Lady Ashwell has very strong opinions on soldiers and has clearly read a great deal on the Kingdom, considering how quickly she turned an argument about our profession into an argument about who faced the consequences from it,” Jungkook replied.

He looked around at the men gathered before continuing, “I despise her. Not because she called me an arrogant prick, I have been called worse. But I despise her for how easily and naively she formed the opinions she holds.”

Jungkook turned the glass once in his hand, watching the whisky swirling around, “She has spent her entire life in a mansion, protected by the very men she considers shameful, and has never once understood what her comfort costs us soldiers. It is easy to call soldiers a stain upon the kingdom when one has never gone without because of what they protect.”

Jungkook set the glass down as he continued, “But she is not stupid and that is precisely the problem. A foolish woman could live beneath this roof and notice nothing. Lady Ashwell reads, questions, and speaks whenever she believes something is wrong. She will not ignore a house full of men gathering in the study every week. The war gave us an excuse to gather without question but that excuse is gone now. Ten soldiers meeting in a townhouse with no war to speak of will draw questions eventually. A clever woman who dislikes soldiers and the war will soon be living beneath this roof and she requires considerably more caution than I expected.”

Seokjin's grin has now faded, "You think she'll work it out."

“I think,” Jungkook said, “that if we are careless, she will work out considerably more than any of us would like, and sooner than any of us expect. She speaks kindly of innocent lives, but her argument begins with her hatred of soldiers. A woman who believes men like us are a stain upon the kingdom is not someone I can assume will look kindly upon ten soldiers plotting to bring that kingdom down.”

“Then we shall simply stop meeting here,” Seokjin said, offering what he considered the most practical solution.

“No,” Jimin replied before Jungkook could answer, “finding another place secure enough for all of us would be difficult. We simply have to exercise more caution in this house than we have because this place will soon belong to her as well.”

“She will be lady of the house,” Jungkook said, “that means she will oversee it alongside Alfred. He is part of revolutionists, so I trust him to keep anything important from her, but every report, file, and piece of correspondence must be kept out of sight. Nothing is to be left in the study, sitting rooms, or even the bedrooms any of you use.”

Jimin gathered the correspondence in front of him into a single pile, “I will speak to Hana and Walter. If Walter is still using the townhouse for the underground press, it must stop before Lady Ashwell moves in.”

"See that it does," Jungkook said.

Seokjin looked at his captain, "Captain J, You seem remarkably unbothered for a man who was called an arrogant prick this morning."

"I am unbothered," Jungkook said, "being called an arrogant prick changes nothing about what must happen next. What concerns me is not what she thinks of me but what she might eventually see if we are not careful enough about what we allow her to see. Everything else that occurred this morning is frankly irrelevant."

"Captain, I believe you need her trusting you not questioning you. If she believes you are fond of her, she will not think to look too closely at what happens in this house," Seokjin said.

"She is not a woman who will be won over by fondness," Jungkook answered his senior officer, "she is too clever for it, and she would see through the flattery immediately. We ought to be smart when she is around is all."

Rain has finally begun to fall from the grey sky outside. Jungkook’s men, Jimin and Seokjin, left the study to find Alfred, the Jeon household’s butler, to begin preparing the mansion for everything that would need to change before Lady Ashwell arrived.

Jungkook reached for the Crown’s letter, folded it once, and placed it inside a drawer as the matter was already settled. 

Jungkook will be marrying you. 

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After your meeting with Captain Jungkook, you and Daisy, your lady-in-waiting, spent the day at the public library. You did not return to the Ashwell townhouse until around four o'clock, with your arms full of books Daisy insisted you did not need but you purchased anyway. 

As you were walking towards your room, you heard your sister calling your name.

“_____!” Margot called the moment she caught sight of you passing the tea room, already standing up from her chair.

Your sister was dressed in a blue gown over long white skirts, her face lit up with excitement. Just one look at her told you she had heard some gossip and could not bear to keep it to herself a moment longer.

“There you are! Finally,” Margot said with a dramatic sigh, “I have been sitting here for half an hour waiting for you to come home and Mother refused to tell me a single detail until you arrived. Very mean of her, considering I am to be married in five days and surely deserve some entertainment before then.”

"Margot," you greeted as you set your books down on the side table. Behind you, Daisy quietly closed the door to the tea room, understanding that the Ashwells had matters to discuss that were not meant for her or the other servants’ ears.

"I did not know you were coming today," you said to Margot.

“I did not plan to,” Margot said, taking your hands and pulling you farther into the room.

Your mother sat nearby, while your father stood at the window with his hands behind his back.

“But Viscount Lee called on Lady Whitmore, who called on our aunt, who sent word to me within the hour. I could not possibly wait until my wedding to hear the truth from you directly!” Margot’s eyes brightened before continuing, “Tell me everything! I heard he called you darling in front of half the park.”

"He is infuriating," you said, sitting down on the blue chair, "that is the only word I have for him, Margot. He is infuriating, arrogant, and entirely too pleased with himself. Besides, he is a soldier and I have no intention of marrying one."

“You say that about every man,” Margot replied, entirely unbothered by your response. She sat back into her chair, “You said much the same of Lord Whitfield. And Baron Cole.”

"Neither of the men you mentioned were soldiers."

“No,” Margot agreed, “they were merely dull, which you said so yourself, if I recall. At least this one has given you something worth talking about! You have never been this agitated over a man!”

You opened your mouth to argue and explain precisely how Captain Jungkook ruined what should have been a perfectly executed plan to end the engagement. But before you had the chance to, your father cleared his throat by the window.

"____," your father said, "your mother and I have something to tell you, and I think it best we do before Margot continues on with whatever questions she has prepared."

You looked between your parents, "What is it?" you asked, you were nervous to hear what they were about to say. Your stomach had already begun to twist in knots. 

“We received another letter from the palace this afternoon,” your mother said.

“Another one? So soon?” you asked nervously. 

“The Queen has already heard about your meeting this morning,” your mother continued, visibly trying to choose her words carefully as she knew they would not be received gently, “it seems Viscount Lee’s words reached the Queen well before ours did, and Her Majesty was delighted.”

Your mother paused before continuing, “The Queen writes that she has rarely seen a match take so quickly that the affair has already become a sensation in certain circles. She has mentioned that she sees no reason for any further delay.”

“Further delay?” you repeated, clearly in shock from the news you heard.

“The wedding,” your father said, looking away from you, “it has been set for two weeks after Margot’s.”

The room fell silent.

"Two weeks," you repeated, "after Margot's wedding, which is held this weekend."

"Yes," your mother said quietly.

"So I am to be married," you slowly said, "in less than a month."

You sat still on the chair for what felt like five minutes, staring at your hands folded in your lap. Perhaps you thought that you ought to say something. You ought to argue as you did when you first read the letter. You ought to remind your father of every objection he raised himself of the bloodlines and the natural order of things. You ought to ask why none of that seemed to matter now.

But when you finally opened your mouth to fight for yourself, you found you did not have the energy for any of it.

You spent an entire morning fighting for your life and none of it mattered in the slightest, because the outcome, as your father has told you, has never truly been yours to decide.

"I understand," you quietly said instead.

Your mother looked visibly relieved, though she expected considerably more resistance and was not entirely certain what to make of its absence, "Darling," she said, "I know this is not what you wanted.."

"I understand, Mother," you said, interrupting her from finishing her sentence, "there is very little point in fighting a decision that was made before I was ever consulted on it. I do not intend to waste what remains of my energy fighting a battle I have already lost."

That was what you told your family.

Within your own mind, however, you were already searching for another way out. You have always believed there will always be a way out, like what one of your favourite authors wrote. 

There were three weeks between now and the wedding. Three weeks in which you must find some means of escaping the marriage. You did not yet know what or how you would be able to escape, only that you will find a way.

First, however, there was Margot’s wedding. And you would not miss your sister’s wedding for anything, not even your own freedom. Nor would you allow your troubles to cast even the smallest shadow over a day that belonged entirely to her.

For the next five days, you would smile, and endure the fittings and everything else as if your own future were not rapidly closing around you.

After that, you will escape.

“____,” Margot said softly, reaching for your hand, “I am sorry. I know how you feel about soldiers, but maybe he will not be so terrible. Captain Jungook is very handsome, at least. Believe me, there are worse faces to wake up next to.”

“Do not apologise, Margot,” you said, smiling at her, “I will not have you feeling guilty over any of this. This is still your week, and I do not want a single thought of my wedding taking up space that belongs to yours.”

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“I am.”

“There is one more thing,” your father said, making both you and Margot look up at once.

“Papa,” you said anxiously, “I do not believe I have the capacity for one more thing today.”

“Your mother and I have invited Captain Jungkook to dinner,” your father said, “this evening.”

You stared at your father.

“We thought it was best now that the wedding has been set, to take the opportunity to become properly acquainted with the man before he joins the family,” your father continued, “I confess, I should like to form my own opinion of him rather than relying entirely upon the opinions of others.”

"Tonight," you said in disbelief.

"Yes, honey. Tonight," your mother confirmed, "he sent his acceptance not long before you arrived home and he should be here by seven."

You closed your eyes for a moment and drew in a breath. You could not help wondering why the universe has decided that one day’s worth of Captain Jeon Jungkook was not enough of a punishment, "Of course he did," you said, mostly to yourself.

"You will want to change before he arrives," your mother added, already rising from her chair, "that dress has ink on its sleeves, darling, and I will not have Captain Jeon's first impression of this household to be one of a mess."

"Mother," you said, "he watched me pick my nose in a public park this morning. I do not believe a small ink stain is going to alter his opinion of this family.”

Margot let out a laugh, only to stifle it when your mother turned in her direction. 

"Regardless," your mother said, "you will change. And you will be civil at dinner, ____, whatever your opinions of the man. Whatever occurred this morning, he is very shortly to be your husband, and this house will conduct itself with proper hospitality.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Captain Jeon Jungkook arrived at precisely seven o'clock, not a minute before and not a minute after, which irritated you even more.

He changed out of his uniform and now wore a fitted black tailcoat with brass buttons, white trousers, and a dark cape draped over his shoulder. The clothes were formal without being too excessive, yet they still made him look commanding.

Jungkook stepped down from his car and greeted the doorman before climbing the steps to the Ashwells’ house. When the butler took his cape and hat at the door, you noticed that Jungkook thanked the man by name. You were certain he could not possibly have known it beforehand, which meant he likely asked in advance merely to impress your family.

What an irritating man, you thought to yourself. 

“Captain Jungkook,” your father said, approaching him with his hand already extended. You were surprised to hear none of the reluctance in your father’s voice that he expressed when speaking of the Duke of Jeon the previous day, “Welcome to our home.”

"Duke Ashwell," Jungkook said, taking his hand, "the pleasure is entirely mine. I confess I have been curious to see the house that produced four daughters of such reputation."

"Reputation?" your father repeated, he didn’t know whether to be wary or pleased of the word.

“Oh! all favourable, I assure you,” Jungkook smoothly replied, “Lady Medea’s wit is praised at nearly every dinner I have attended this season. Lady Ariel’s husband cannot spend five minutes at his club without finding some reason to brag about her. And Lady Margot, I am told, has arranged the wedding of the season, which I understand is to take place this very Saturday.”

Your father looked genuinely pleased.

You walked down the stairs then, having delayed as long as you could. Jungkook’s eyes found yours the moment you appeared. 

“Lady Ashwell,” Jungkook said, inclining his head, “we meet again, rather sooner than either of us anticipated this morning, I imagine.”

“Captain,” you replied, “I did not expect you to accept my parents’ invitation quite so readily.”

"I could hardly refuse," Jungkook said, "particularly not when your father was kind enough to extend it himself. It would have been rude not to.”

Your mother entered from the sitting hallway just then, wearing a gown she reserved for guests she intended to impress. She gave a small delighted laugh and you felt the evening beginning to slip beyond your control.

"Shall we?" your father said, gesturing towards the dining room.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You hoped the dinner might provide some natural arguments. Your father did make his objections clear to Jungkook’s bloodline before. But within the first course, you were forced to abandon that hope.

"Tell me, Captain," your father said, once the soup had been served, "What was the northern war like? I understand your regiment was stationed there for the past two winters."

“It was harsher than I expected,” Jungkook said, “the cold was often worse than the war itself. A man can prepare himself to face an enemy, but the hunger and weeks without proper shelter are rather less honourable opponents. I am only grateful it ended when it did, Your Grace. Another winter there might have finished what the enemy could not.”

“A sensible answer,” your father said, giving his approval, “Parliament speaks endlessly of courage and victory, but very little of what it asks soldiers to endure between battles.”

“I could not agree more, Your Grace,” Jungkook said, “but I would ask that you not repeat that opinion to my officers. They are rather fond of the glory of victory than I am.”

Your father laughed at what Jungkook said. Across the table, you stirred your soup with more force than necessary, watching him warm up to a man he had called a stain upon the family bloodline.

“I understand your lands were formally restored to you only upon your promotion to captain,” your father said, “reclaiming an estate after so many years of neglect must not have been easy.”

“It was not, Sir.” Jungkook said, agreeing with your father, “the house was closed for nearly two decades by the time it was returned to me. I spent the first year simply learning what I had inherited, and the second year learning how much of it needed to be rebuilt.”

Jungkook paused before looking right at your father, “I understand, Your Grace, that you knew my father in the years before I was born. I have often wished I knew more of him than what little the records could tell me.”

His confession surprised you. Until then, you assumed his interest in the match was rooted in duty and something he wanted to get over with. It did not occur to you that he might have a more personal reason for accepting it so readily.

You found yourself wondering whether this was what had drawn him towards the marriage. Your father knew his father and by marrying into your family, Jungkook would gain more than a wife; he might also gain access to memories no record could preserve.

For the first time, his determination in the marriage seemed less like arrogance and more of him trying to learn about the life that had been taken from him.

The table briefly fell silent. You could see the complicated mixture of grief and guilt you have seen on your father’s face at the tea table two days earlier.

"He was a good friend to me in his time," your father said, "and I confess I have thought of him often these past few days, watching this arrangement unfold. I think he would be pleased to see his son so well established, Captain."

"That means a great deal to me, Your Grace," Jungkook answered.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Your mother, for her part, required considerably less convincing than your father. 

She spent the second course asking Jungkook about his taste in music, discovering within a few short exchanges that he had a genuine appreciation for classical music, a fact that delighted your mother, as few gentlemen of her acquaintances could speak intelligently on the subject.

"You must join us for the classical sometime next season," your mother said.

“I would be honoured, Your Grace,” Jungkook replied, “though I fear His Grace may object to being so easily replaced.”

“He may still join us if he can remain awake through the performance. I am in desperate need of a companion who will not embarrass me by snoring,” your mother answered.

“I do not snore,” your father protested from the head of the table.

Your mother smiled, before saying, “Of course not, my dear. The entire row behind us merely imagined it.”

Jungkook lowered his gaze, clearly attempting to hide his amusement, while Margot made no such effort. You even had to press your lips together to keep from laughing.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By the time the final course has been cleared, your father instructed the maid to bring out a bottle of brandy he reserved for his closest acquaintances. And as far as you knew, very few guests had ever been offered it.

“You will come to the wedding, of course,” Margot said as the evening finally began to draw to an end, “It will  happen this Saturday and I insist you come. You are practically family already, and I will not have my sister’s future husband absent from the celebration.”

“I would be honoured,” Jungkook replied, “provided your future husband does not object to a soldier attending in uniform. I am afraid I have little civilian attire suitable for such an occasion.”

“He will not object,” Margot assured him, “he served for two years before inheriting the barony. He will probably be delighted to have someone with whom he can discuss his previous life with.”

You sat through the remainder of the evening in stunned silence.

Your father, who had objected to Jungkook on the grounds of his bloodline. Your mother, who had spent years depressed of ever finding you a suitable match. Your sister who felt sorry for you now seemed genuinely convinced he might make you happy.

All of them had been thoroughly charmed by a shallow soldier who admitted he wanted to marry you because, in his words, you were at least pretty and he did not want to miss his chance. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

When Jungkook finally stood up from his chair to take his leave, your father walked him personally to the door and the two of them were still deep in conversation about some matter of Parliament that your father seemed genuinely eager to continue at a later date.

“Lady Ashwell,” Jungkook said, standing before you while the butler fetched his cape. His voice dropped low enough that you knew the words were clearly meant for you alone, “I trust you found the evening as smooth as I did.”

“You are insufferable,” you replied quietly, not wanting to let your mother overhear.

“So I have been told,” Jungkook said with a smug expression across his face, “I find it considerably easier to win the favour of an entire household than that of the one member who has already decided to despise me.”

"I have very good reasons," you said, defending yourself.

“I do not doubt it,” Jungkook said, whispering in front of you, “though I confess, I expected your family to prove more difficult to impress.”

“They have mistaken good manners for good character,” you answered.

“An unfortunate habit,” he said, “I shall have to be careful not to behave too well in your presence. You might begin making the same mistake.”

“That is highly unlikely,” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

“Likewise,” Jungkook said, flashing you a smile so effortlessly charming that you hated yourself for noticing it at all.

Jungkook charmed your family without seeming to try, and yet not a single answer he gave them all evening told you anything real about the man himself. And you refused to be convinced.

You could not have explained it to your mother, or to Margot, or even to yourself in any reasonable way.

It was simply a feeling that whatever Captain Jungkook wanted from this house, it was not you.

Tea time at the Ashwell house was by long tradition, a quiet affair, and has been for as long as you could remember it.

It was a silence that everyone in the household simply agreed to keep, and the Duchess of Ashwell, Lady Cecily, always brings out the most beautiful china just for this occasion.

Your father would go through his letters and official messages he considered too dull to discuss at breakfast.

Your mother, more often than not, usually spent the hour arranging and rearranging the seating for whichever dinner party is coming up in the next few weeks, murmuring names to herself as if they were pieces on a board she alone understood the rules of. 

And you would always bring a book with you and hoped that no one would ask you to set it down, because a closed book in this house was an invitation for conversation, and conversation in this house rarely went anywhere you wished it to.

Lady Margot, your sister, would usually be in the room as well. But ever since getting engaged to the Baron of Rohan, she has been too busy to ever be in the House of Ashwell. 

Today, however, no one has brought anything to distract themselves. 

Your father's correspondence sat untouched at his elbow, your mother's guest list had not been so much as glanced at, and you have left your book upstairs in your library, though you could not now recall the decision to do so, only that your hands have felt too unsteady that morning to hold anything.

The letter from the palace was placed quite literally in the center of the table, propped against one of your father’s books. The seal of the letter was broken now, yet it still presented the unmistakable crest of the Crown, and every time your eyes drifted toward it you felt something in your stomach tighten.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"I do not like it," your father said, for what was perhaps the fourth time since the tea had been poured and each time he said it, it seemed to carry a little less certainty and a little more stubbornness. 

He has not touched his teacup and the tea has long since stopped steaming.

"Edmund," your mother said, trying to stop your father from saying more, especially since the housemaid was still present near the door and was only leaving then, "honey, the tea is growing cold."

"Let it grow cold, then," your father said.

The moment the housemaid left and shut the door behind her, your father sighed with relief, "I do not like it, Cecily. He has commoner blood running through his veins. His mother was no more a lady than the girl who irons my shirts, and I am asked to hand my youngest and brightest daughter over to her son as if that were some manner of honor."

"Papa," you said, as you set your cup down with more force than the delicate china deserved, “why does it matter that he has commoner blood?"

Your father turned to look at you as if you just asked him the most obvious question. He looked at you like you just asked him why water was wet, or why the sky on a clear day is blue instead of any other colour. 

It was the look he gave you whenever you asked a question he considered too obvious to require an answer, and it was, you long ago decided, the look you disliked most on his face.

"Why does it matter?" your father repeated in the hope that hearing it aloud a second time might reveal to you the answer you were apparently too foolish to see on your own.

"Yes," you said, refusing to be scared away by the tone of your father, "why does it matter whose blood a man carries in his veins, if the man himself is disciplined, capable, and by every account I have heard from anyone who has actually met him, more competent than half the lords who sit in Parliament?"

"Because," your father sighed as he set his own teacup down, "I do not wish for my grandchildren to carry commoner blood in them. Is that such a difficult thing for you to understand, ____?"

"What are we, Papa…" you said, and your voice had gone quieter now, "..what are we without commoners? What are we without the maids who dress us each morning and lace us into gowns we could not manage on our own? What are we without the men who till the very land you collect rent from every quarter? or the boy in the stables who cleans the stalls each dawn so that your horse does not stand ankle-deep in its own filth before you take it out for your morning ride? Tell me, what precisely you imagine keeps this house standing, if not the very blood you seem so determined to keep from mingling with your own?”

"That is different," your father answered, and his jaw tightened in anger, "the natural order requires that some are born to serve and others born to be served. It has always been so, and it will remain so long after both of us are dust. And that means I do not wish to see my daughter, my own flesh and blood, married into a name that only barely escapes being called a servant."

"He is not in service, Papa," you said, "he is a Duke."

"He is a Duke," your father acknowledged, though he clearly found the fact distasteful, "with a mother who was not."

"It is fine, I suppose," your mother interrupted then, "since he is still a Duke, and a Captain too, and there are certainly far worse arrangements a daughter of ours might have been given. Recall Lady Whitmore's youngest, married off at sixteen to a widower thrice her age, with gout in both feet and a temper to match, poor thing writes to me still asking after remedies for his moods that I have no earthly notion how to provide."

"That is hardly a fair comparison, Cecily," your father muttered, "you deserve better," he said, turning his attnetion back to you, and for one brief moment, you thought perhaps this conversation might yet end somewhere reasonable with your father.

"I agree," you said, and you meant it, "I do not wish to marry a soldier of any blood, commoner or noble."

Your father blinked, visibly caught off guard, like he did not anticipate the two of you arriving at a conclusion from such entirely different directions, his own objection rooted in bloodlines and yours rooted in something he clearly didn’t think to consider at all. 

"Well," he said, “he is still very respectable in his position. A man who has risen as he has, through discipline and merit rather than mere inheritance is not a man to be dismissed out of hand, whatever his mother's origins…"

"What side are you on now, Papa?" you interrupted, and you could not entirely erase the desperation from your voice even if you tried, "not a moment ago you told me that you did not wish for me to marry a man with commoner blood in him. Now you tell me he is respectable and a man not to be dismissed? Which is it?"

"He can be an exception," your father said, "with his Captain's title earned through service, and the Dukedom restored to him by right of blood, whatever the circumstances of his birth and his father; his father was once a most respectable man indeed."

Something in you went very still, "Did you know his father?"

Your father's expression changed, so subtly but you caught it, "I did," he said, and his voice had gone quieter, it was a topic that clearly has been left untouched and undisturbed for many years, "he used to come to this house often, in the years before you were born. Duke Jeon the elder was close friends of ours once, Cecily and I both, though I doubt you would recognise the name from anything but rumor and scandal now. We dined together, the three of us, more evenings than I can properly count... before what he did."

"Before what, Papa?" you pressed him for answers when he did not immediately continue.

"Before he threw it all away.." he finally answered, "..on a commoner girl who caught his eye at some harvest festival, of all the foolish, unremarkable places for a Duke to lose his senses. I told him it was madness and no good could come of a match so far beneath his station. I warned him that the court would never forgive it, and his own children would pay the price for a passion he could have satisfied in a hundred different ways without ever making her his wife. He did not listen to me and married her within the year, and got her with child not long after. The whole of the court turned its back on him for it, myself included, I confess, though I have wondered many times since whether that was the wisest course."

"And did any good come of it?" you asked, even though you already suspected the answer you would be given. You already knew fragments of the House of Jeon’s history as it was a well-known scandal. 

"They were murdered," he answered calmly.

Your mother was surprised to say the least, to see her husband talking of the history of their friend out in the open, something he has never done outside of their bedroom.

Your father continued on, "Both of them were murdered though the details were never made public, and I confess I never pressed to learn them, a cowardly friend I was. The boy was left with nothing. There was no protection from the court since they never accepted his mother, no acknowledgement from anyone who might otherwise have taken him in and raised him as his birth deserved."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

For a long moment, none of you spoke. 

Your mother had even gone quite still and forgot her tea, she took a deep breath before saying, “Well, I heard much later, that he was raised first by the church, and then handed to the army, since neither the church nor the army seemed overly concerned with whose blood ran in him, as long as he could hold a rifle steady and follow orders.”

You felt sympathy stirring in your chest, sympathy for a man you have never once met, a soldier at that.

But curiosity began taking over you, "How did he receive his land back then Papa?" you asked, "if the court never accepted him? If no one would so much as take him in?"

Your father looked away as he answered, "There were a few of us, in those years, who fought for the late Duke of Jeon's son," he said, “fewer than I would like to admit, and I acknowledge that none of us did nearly enough, myself included. But we fought for Captain Jungkook to earn his land back; that was the only thing any of us could fight for then."

"You never told me that," you said, surprised at your father’s involvement in Captain Jungkook’s life.

"I did it for my late-friend and there was very little to tell," your father said as he reached for his tea at last, though it had long since gone cold, "grief and guilt can change what a man believes. I loved my friend yet that did not stop me from voting against his son’s inheritance twice before shame or something like it, made me support it the third time."

Your father sighed again before continuing, "it is old business, ____. Best left where it lies. Whatever small part any of us played in it does not undo the rough years he spent his childhood, or the years he spent earning back what should never have been taken from him in the first place."

"So do I still have to marry him?" you asked.

You had to give it a try because no amount of sympathy could ever make you abandon the quiet and unremarkable life you have planned for yourself. And you still did not want to be married to a soldier.

Your father let out an even longer sigh then. Edmund spent the better part of his life believing he had power, yet now, in his youngest daughter's presence, he had to admit out loud how little that power could help her when it mattered most to her.

"There is not much I can do about it, my dear," your father finally answered, “it is the Queen's request and one does not decline Queen Seraphine however much either of us might wish otherwise."

"And if I were to write to Her Majesty myself," you said, still insisting and hoping there was some way out of this, "and explain in whatever terms she might find persuasive, that I have no wish to be married at all?"

Your mother let out a small laugh, "Darling, no one writes to the Queen to decline her arrangement. You ought to write to thank her for her consideration, and you can only hope that the meeting itself somehow provides proof you two are an incompatible couple.”

"And if it does not provide me one?"

"Then you are to marry a Captain and a Duke," your father answered.

You did not find this especially reassuring and said nothing further, though now at least you understood your first meeting needed to show some serious incompatibility between you and the captain.

"Well," your mother said, sensing that there was no more to the conversation, "there is nothing more to be settled this time. Best we all go about our day and let the matter rest until his letter arrives with the details of the first meeting."

Your father grunted in agreement and retreated behind his newspaper once more, though you noticed he did not turn a single page of it for the better part of twenty minutes.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The study at the Jeon townhouse was not, by any measure, a small room.

Jungkook made certain of that when he took possession of the house. It occupied half of the western wing of the second floor, its ceilings high, its windows tall and heavily curtained that there was almost no sunlight that could shine through it. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with volumes on military strategy, law, taxation, fantasy, even romance, and many other genres that Jungkook had read cover to cover. 

It was a room made for gatherings like this. Ten of them, the leaders of the rebellion, or revolutionaries as they preferred to call themselves, sat around a table that had once hosted formal dinners for the late duke’s political allies.

Jimin sat on the right side of Jungkook with a stack of correspondence in front of him that he has been sorting into three different piles. 

Seokjin, a senior officer of Jungkook’s regiment, claimed the chair nearest to the fire, which he always does every single meeting without fail.

Dennis, Captain of another regiment, was sitting right next to Seokjin. 

Kilian, Captain of a different regiment was also present, sitting on the left side of Dennis.

Owen, a sergeant, sat on the floor with his back against the door and is the only man in the room who genuinely enjoyed the tedious parts of the work, the numbers that made everyone else's eyes glaze. 

The remaining four were scattered around the room in various states of attention: two senior officers from Dennis's regiment, a clerk named Hana who worked in the tax office and have spent the last four months quietly copying figures that did not match what Parliament had told its people, and the last person there was Walter, who ran an underground press.

“If the northern depot’s records are right,” Hana said, running her finger down the column, “then someone is stealing almost twenty percent of the supplies before they reach the soldiers. If a hundred crates are sent, only eighty arrive. Whoever is taking the rest is making a great deal of money and seems to be getting too comfortable.”

“The Duke of Pemberton is on the committee that approves the supply orders,” Owen said from the floor, “he’s been there for six years. Eighteen months ago, he built a new house in the east district, one far too expensive for someone earning his salary.”

“So he belongs on our list as well,” Dennis said.

“We can add him as a suspect,” Killian replied, “an expensive house is suspicious, but it proves nothing. All Dukes purchase expensive houses now and then. We still need to find concrete evidence that he is on it, then we will go after him.”

“We need to find a way into that secret meeting the nobles and politicians attend,” Seokjin said frustratedly, warming his hands without looking up, “the one we still haven’t managed to infiltrate.”

None of the revolutionists have ever managed to enter the secret meeting. 

Over the years, they pieced together what little they knew from servants and commoners who overheard fragments of conversation, from intercepted letters that were carefully resealed, and from a coachman Walter had spent nearly a year befriending. 

The men who attended the secret meeting were not all nobles or members of Parliament, but every one of them was wealthy, powerful, or well connected.

These men shared one belief: the kingdom’s existing order benefited them and they would do whatever was necessary to protect it. Nothing said in the room was ever repeated outside it, none of their decisions ever appeared in official records. 

Yet they quietly paid informants, bought people’s silence, and destroyed reformers who threatened them, sometimes financially and sometimes by far worse means. As far as the revolutionists could tell, this group was behind much of the corruption they have spent years trying to expose.

“We’re not going to solve the supply theft tonight,” Jimin added, “and Walter’s letter can’t be published until we confirm the figures with at least two more sources.”

Kilian interrupted Jimin as he pointed a finger at the letter lying in the corner of Captain Jungkook’s desk, “So, are we going to discuss it or keep pretending none of us have noticed it sitting there for the past half hour?”

Every head in the room turned towards Jungkook's desk.

The letter has, in fact, been sitting exactly where Jungkook left it when he cleared the desk for the meeting, its broken seal catching the light just enough to be noticeable to anyone who happened to glance in that direction twice, which evidently everyone did at some point.

Seokjin sat forward immediately, "I was going to mention it eventually," he said, "but yes, thank you, Captain Kilian. There is, in fact, an elephant on this table that I would very much like it addressed. Why is there a letter from the Crown sitting on your desk, Captain Jungkook? One that you have very deliberately not brought up once in thirty minutes?”

"It is not relevant to tonight's business," Jungkook answered.

"Everything is relevant to tonight's business," Dennis said, "that's rather the entire premise of our weekly meeting, is it not?"

Walter, who rarely spoke first in these meetings, tilted his head towards the desk, "Palace seal," he said, "I'd know that wax anywhere, I've forged enough of it."

"You have forged the palace seal?" Owen repeated excitedly. 

"Twice. It was for a good cause both times,” Walter said, defending himself.

"Focus," Jimin said, though he was fighting a smile.

Jungkook sighed before picking the letter up off the desk and read it aloud in the same flat voice he usually uses to read out a report:

To Captain Jeon Jungkook, Duke of Jeon, Her Majesty Queen Seraphine extends her warmest regards to the Duke of Jeon, and takes considerable interest in writing to him on a matter she believes will be met, in time, with both understanding and gratitude. After the most careful and thorough consideration, Her Majesty has identified a match she believes to be well-suited to the Duke's temperament, character, and standing: Lady _____ Ashwell, youngest daughter of Edmund Ashwell II, Duke of Ashwell. Her Majesty is confident that the Duke will find in Lady Ashwell a woman of considerable intellect, strength, and steady character, qualities Her Majesty has long observed and believes will complement the Duke's own. It is Her Majesty's deepest wish that Duke and Captain Jeon consider this arrangement not as an obligation, but as an honour befitting a man of his distinguished service. The Queen has given this match her most careful consideration and has every confidence that both parties will find, in time, a connection well-suited to their respective characters, whatever unfamiliarity may exist between them at first. Her Majesty trusts the Duke will make arrangements to call upon Lady Ashwell at his earliest convenience, and requests that he communicate his intentions regarding the manner and timing of their first meeting to the Ashwell household directly. Her Majesty extends her confidence in the Duke's judgment and her gratitude for his continued service to the Crown. By Her Majesty's own hand,Queen Seraphine of the Kingdom of Leon

"OUR CAPTAIN IS GETTING MARRIED," Owen screamed out from the floor and the room erupted with noise. 

The two senior officers started pounding the table, Dennis let out something between a laugh and a whoop, and Hana was clapping her hands together though her face did not look entirely happy. 

"This," Jungkook said, dragging a hand through his hair, "is precisely why I did not want any of you to know."

"You cannot possibly have thought we would let this pass without comment," Kilian said delightfully, "you are the single most eligible bachelor this kingdom has produced in a decade and you are getting married."

“Can’t the Captain get out of this?” Hana asked. 

“Impossible, Hana. It is the Queen, hence making this arrangement a royal decree,” one of the two officers finally spoke. 

"So it's Lady Ashwell?" Jimin asked, once the noise and enthusiasm in the room had settled quietly. 

"Yes," Jungkook said.

Dennis sat forward, his arms still folded over the back of his chair, and something changed in his expression, "House Ashwell..." he said slowly, "that's… Jungkook, that's perfect!"

"I'm aware." Jungkook admitted.

"No," Dennis said, "I don't think you are. The Ashwell isn't just any house. The duke sits two seats down from Lord Pemberton in committee. His wife hosts half the gatherings the wives of every man on our list attend without fail every season. And…" Dennis tapped the table, once, twice, "...and he is exactly the sort of man who would be in that secret meeting. The meeting we've spent three years trying to find a door into."

"As I said, I am aware," Jungkook said.

"You'll be inside their territory," Dennis went on excitedly, “not as an outsider begging for an invitation. You will be there as a family. As his son-in-law. So you will need to go through this marriage no matter what."

Jungkook sighed. He had always intended to accept the arrangement. He understood the advantages, especially since no one has said that the marriage had to last forever. Once the revolutionaries achieved their goal, Jungkook could easily leave you behind.

"So you're going ahead with the marriage?" Jimin asked. 

"Yes," Jungkook answered. 

Seokjin let out a long dramatic groan and tilted his head toward the ceiling, “Ugh,” he said, “Captain J is about to marry a woman from House Ashwell, and even on their wedding night, he’ll probably be thinking about stolen supplies.”

"I will not spend a night with-" Jungkook was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

"Is it the four sisters?" Dennis asked, grinning now, any serious conversation was briefly set aside in favor of the considerably more entertaining subject of Jungkook’s arranged marriage.

"Yeah," Jimin said, “prettiest family in the city and half the regiment's been in love with one Ashwell girl or another since before I made Lieutenant. There was a whole season where three of my men wrote poetry about the second daughter and none of them would admit who was worse."

"It was Private Baek's," Owen joined in from the floor without hesitation, "he rhymed 'grace' with 'face' four separate times."

"Aren't three of them married already?" Walter asked, interrupting Owen and Jimin’s conversation.

"Two married, one engaged," Hana answered, "the one the Queen mentioned in the letter is the youngest of the lot."

Jungkook looked around the study, at the people who in ninety seconds have given him more information about his future wife than he managed to gather in the entire span of reading the letter twice. 

Jungkook sighed before he asked, "Does anyone in this room care to tell me what she actually looks like?"

The room fell silent.

Seokjin let out a sound as if he was about to deliver some bad news, “That is the one thing none of us can help you with. She rarely appears in public and her debut ball was held during the worst of the war two winters ago when half the city was still mourning, apparently only half of those invited attended. I don’t think anyone in this room has ever seen her clearly.”

"I've seen her at a distance," Walter unexpectedly answered as every head turned towards him.

Walter shrugged his shoulders, entirely unbothered by the sudden attention, "I delivered pamphlets disguised as a book order to the Ashwell house once, years back. And saw a young woman reading in the window as I left. I couldn't tell you much beyond that she looked like she would rather have been left alone."

"That is the single most useful piece of information anyone in this room has given me," Jungkook said.

"I try," Walter said, and returned his attention to his pamphlet.

"So, where will my Captain meet the woman he is about to use to bring down kingdom of Leon?" Seokjin asked, teasing his captain. 

"The park," he said.

The whole room went silent again.

"The park?" Kilian asked.

"Yes, Darlington Park. There is a fountain near the entrance, and I will be there at eleven, tomorrow morning."

"Jungkook," Kilian said, choosing his words carefully, "is it not customary, in matters such as this, to call upon the Lady's household first? To be received properly in the Duke's own home, to speak with him directly before ever being introduced to his daughter, to observe the courtesies that-"

"Nothing about this is customary anyway," Jungkook said, cutting him off and the way he said it showed that the subject was not one Jungkook would like to revisit again.

"Half the city walks through Darlington before noon," Jimin said, "Capt, you'll be recognised within the first five minutes."

"I'm aware, and I do not care," Jungkook said.

"Are you courting a scandal on purpose," Walter asked, genuinely curious now as he set his pen down, "or has that simply not occurred to you yet?"

"Scandal implies I have done something worth gossiping about," Jungkook said, "I intend to stand by a fountain and if anyone manages to make that scandalous, they are more imaginative than I've given this city credit for."

"You clearly haven't met my aunt, Captain," Seokjin said, laughing from his chair.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"He has chosen the park," your mother announced that evening, holding a second letter that is shorter and considerably less ornamented than the first, "Darlington Park, specifically near the fountain by the east entrance."

"A park?" your father repeated, setting down his newspaper for the second time that day, "he does not intend to call upon this house first, to be received as any respectable suitor ought?"

"I suppose Captain Jungkook-"

"You may reject the park," your father said, cutting your mother off, "you may send word this very evening that he is to call here properly, as any man courting a Duke's daughter ought to conduct himself, rather than summoning her to sit upon a public bench like some servant."

"No," you said, before your mother could reply, and both of them turned to look at you with surprise, "I am fine with the park."

"You are certain?" your mother asked.

"Meeting him here would feel stranger than meeting him in a park full of strangers. In this house, I would be expected to pour tea, to smile at him, to behave as if I was pleased by the whole arrangement, all while the two of you sat nearby listening to every word I said and every word he said in return. In the park, at least, I might breathe without an audience."

Your mother thought about your justification for some time, her expression softening in a way you did not expect, "Well, If that is truly your wish, then I shall let the matter stand as he has proposed it."

"It is," you said as you reached for your book again, hoping that the conversation might now be permitted to end.

"You are certain it is not merely stubbornness speaking, darling?" your mother asked, unable to leave the matter entirely alone, “it would not be so terrible a thing to allow him to come here."

"I am sure of it, mother," you insisted. 

Your father lowered his newspaper enough to look at you, "She has a point, Cecily, let them meet on their own," he said, defending you. 

Your mother sighed and stood up to her study to reply to the Captain’s letter, leaving you and your book to whatever peace remained of the evening.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next morning, the sky was grey and looked as though it might rain.

You have dressed up for your first meeting with the Duke of Jeon in a pale lavender gown with short puffed sleeves, white satin gloves covering your hands, and a necklace of small silver pearls. 

Darlington Park seemed made for a morning like this. Its wide gravel paths ran beneath rows of trees and at the centre of the park stood a large fountain. Wooden benches lined the paths of the park, with many already occupied by elderly people reading newspapers and sitting beside their small dogs.

You were nearly to the gates with your lady-in-waiting, Daisy, who was two steps behind you with a basket she insisted on carrying even after you told her twice that it was unnecessary.

Then you stopped walking as a thought struck you out of nowhere.

You did not know what he looked like.

Nor, you supposed, did Captain Jungkook know what you looked like. 

The Queen's arrangement only involved a name,  title, and a letter full of warm and carefully chosen words about suitability and confidence in a match well-considered, but there was no portrait accompanying it.

Daisy, who was walking two steps behind you, was enjoying this particular errand a great deal. She noticed you stopped walking and paused as well, "Lady ____," she said, setting the basket down against her hip, "would you like me to accompany you until you have found Captain Jeon Jungkook? I could wait nearby, out of sight, should you wish it, and only come forward if-"

"No," you answered, resuming your walk before your nerves could fail you, "I should be able to find him just fine, Daisy. He is a soldier in uniform standing about in a public park. I imagine he will not be difficult to identify."

"Of course, my lady," Daisy said, although something in her tone suggested she was not entirely persuaded.

Then, after a moment spent catching up to your pace, she added, "just remember, Lady _____. He is the most handsome of all the men you shall find in this park today. You will notice him at once, my lady, whether you meant to or not."

You gave her a look, slowing your pace despite yourself, "And how would you come to know a thing like that, Daisy?"

"I accompanied Lady Margot to a ball last spring," Daisy said, visibly proud of the memory, "The Duke was in attendance that evening and every lady in the room noticed him, whether they wished to admit it or not. A fair number of the gentlemen too, though for rather different reasons, I should think."

You rarely attended balls yourself, having long ago perfected the art of coming up with excuses; a headache, a book left unfinished, a sudden stomachache; and so you have no way of confirming Daisy's account.

"I am quite certain," you said, with rather more confidence than you entirely possessed, "that I will manage to identify one man in a soldier's uniform among however many others happen to be strolling about this morning."

"Of course, my lady," Daisy said again, though she did not immediately turn to leave, "may I ask, my lady and forgive me if the question oversteps, are you very much dreading this morning?"

You thought about the question longer than you expected to, surprised that Daisy asked it at all and surprised that you found yourself having to think about the answer.

“Yes, I am,” you finally answered after a minute. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You followed the gravel path towards the fountain, passing a nursemaid pushing a pram and two elderly gentlemen cheerfully arguing over a chessboard balanced between their benches.

As you walked, you silently rehearsed what you might say to the man you already decided you would never ever marry, especially since you have never met him and more specifically because he is a soldier and a captain of a regiment at that.

So far, you have only prepared yourself to say:

“I will never marry you. I am told you are a captain and I confess I find very little to admire in that, considering how much war has already cost this kingdom and its people.”

You were repeating it in your head until you caught the smell of cigarette smoke.

It was faint yet still polluting the fresh morning air. So you followed the smell before you have entirely decided to, your feet moving ahead of your own consciousness.

And there, seated on a bench facing the fountain, with one arm draped along the back of the bench, was a soldier. 

You stared at him with irritation.

He was dressed in full formal uniform: a long, dark navy coat worn over a fitted black military jacket with a high collar and rows of silver buttons, while black leather gloves covered his hands.

The uniform made him impossible to be overlooked and passersby glanced at him twice before quickly looking away. Even his boots were polished to such a shine that you could not decide whether it came from military discipline or simple vanity.

He has not noticed you yet, or if he had, he gave no indication of it whatsoever.

His gaze was fixed on some point past the fountain, holding the cigarette loosely between two of his fingers as its smoke was dispersing into the grey sky.

You stood there a moment longer than you meant to before walking a few steps closer to the bench. 

"Of course," you said, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop it, "it is one of you men in uniform, polluting the air people came here to breathe."

He did not answer, and did not even so much as glance in your direction, which irritated you even more than if he simply was just rude to your face outright.

"And you are rude, too," you continued as you saw no dignified way to retreat from this interaction, "do you imagine, because of that uniform you are wearing that you are owed better manners than the rest of us? or that you are somehow above the ordinary courtesies a stranger extends to you in a public park? Arrogant prick."

That finally earned you his attention. 

He turned his head slowly and looked at you with an expression that was maddeningly and infuriatingly unbothered by the accusation, "I am not certain what I have done to you my lady, to earn such a greeting," he said, and from the tone alone, you could tell he found the whole exchange more entertaining than insulting.

"Polluting the air," you answered as you raised your hand to count his offenses off with your fingers, "being involved in the war, killing innocent people. Shall I continue, soldier? or are these sufficient enough for one morning?"

"It is a public space," he said, "and I am smoking as far from the vulnerable as this bench allows.”

“The children,” he said as he pointed a finger towards where the children are, “you will notice, are gathered at the far side of the fountain with their nursemaid.”

“And the elderly gentlemen you passed on your way here,” he continued, pointing a finger at the gentlemen, “are a good twenty paces distant.”

“And as for the war, my lady, I would gently suggest that without soldiers such as myself, you would not be standing here at all. You wouldn’t be standing in a park kept safe enough for ladies such as you to stroll through unaccompanied on a grey Tuesday morning. There would be no city around this fountain for you to walk through so freely and no roads safe enough to bring you here, were it not for men willing to stand in war,” the soldier said, smiling at you. 

"Without any soldier," you said, refusing to let him think he won the argument, "there would be no war to begin with."

The soldier let out a laugh, "Of course," he said, rising to his feet as he brushed some cigarette ash from his sleeve, "a rich and noble lady such as yourself would not know anything of it, I imagine. You live in a bubble, my lady, and I confess I do not begrudge you the comfort of it but I would ask you kindly not to lecture men who understood war and what it actually means after living it.”

"I know enough to know that soldiers are a sore in society, glorified for deeds that should be shamed rather than celebrated,” you argued back, lifting your chin high, entirely unwilling to be the one to concede ground first.

He looked at you a moment longer before he stubbed the cigarette out against the arm of the bench, "What a waste of time," he said mostly to himself, and turned to walk away without so much as a farewell.

"Indeed," you said to his back, watching him take a few steps before you realised you might actually need his help, "Wait, soldier! Do you know which one of the soldiers in this park is Captain Jungkook? I do not recognise which of the soldiers he could be."

The moment he heard you, the soldier stopped walking.

Then he turned around slowly, and the expression on his face changed. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he just experienced. 

You might have been rude to him, but at least you were honest. You were protecting the air quality of the park from the dreadful and unhealthy smoke from his cigarettes. But you also understood that you deserved the look on his face that silently reminded you of everything you just said to him as you asked for help after insulting him. 

"Ah,” the soldier before you chuckled.

“Captain Jeon Jungkook, as it happens,” the soldier tilted his head ever so slightly, “is standing right in front of you.”

You stared at Jungkook as he stared back at you, and for a moment neither of you seemed inclined to be the first to acknowledge what had just occurred.

For one full second, you could not even breathe.

Was this really him? You thought to yourself. Was he really the Captain the Queen had written about with such warmth?

You spent the walk here rehearsing arguments for the Captain who turned out to have an infuriatingly composed face, watching you with the patience of a man waiting to see what you would do with the information he just presented to you.

And beneath all of it, there was a small and unwelcome thought. One entirely unrelated to anything you intended to feel this morning, the traitorous thought that Daisy was not wrong. You were so focused on his cigarettes that you completely overlooked the face attached to them.

In this moment, you admitted that you were the dumb one to ignore his facial features that definitely stood out.

You hated the thought that came to your mind. You hated that your mind agreed the Captain was handsome. And you despised it even more that you had to consciously force yourself to stop thinking that way. 

Jungkook thought you would greet him the way every other woman would introduce themselves to him.

Jungkook did not expect to be called an arrogant prick within the first thirty seconds of meeting the woman he was supposed to marry. Yet there was something in that unscripted introduction that had already crept itself into a point of interest he had no intention of examining further. 

Jungkook had to remind himself that you were just another piece on a board. It was only inconvenient and irritating that the piece had loud opinions. 

"You are Captain Jungkook," you repeated, mostly to hear how absurd it sounded out loud.

"I am," Jungkook confirmed.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Are you calling me a liar, Lady ______?" Jungkook asked as he smirked.

"You are truly Captain Jungkook?" You asked as your eyes scanned his face and body, "I would have expected a more... elegant man. Then again, you are a soldier."

"You wound me," Jungkook said, as he mockingly put a hand over his heart.

"I doubt that very much," you said, rolling your eyes.

“No,” Jungkook agreed, “I suppose words alone would not be enough. Still, I admire the effort.”

Jungkook walked towards you with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked as if your insult had barely affected him.

“What exactly were you expecting, my lady?” he asked, “I admit, I am curious. What does a duke’s daughter imagine when she thinks of a captain?”

"Someone who does not smoke in public parks," you shot back.

“That is a low standard. I could easily meet it by tomorrow,” Jungkook said.

“Someone..” you continued, “who stops others from embarrassing themselves, even if he finds it amusing.”

“Ah, that standard I have no intention of meeting. It was, indeed, very amusing,” Jungkook paused before giving you a bow, “allow me to introduce myself properly, since we seem to have done everything else in the wrong order,” he chuckled.

“Her Majesty has decided that we are exceptionally well suited to one another. I admit, after the last five minutes, I am struggling to understand why, but I am told the Queen is rarely wrong,” Jungkook said with an amused look that made you want to wipe that smug smile off his face.

He then inclined his head to introduce himself, “Captain Jeon Jungkook, the Duke of Jeon.”

You did not curtsy.

Your ears were still warm from your outburst, and you doubted you could manage such a gesture, “Lady ______ Ashwell,” you said flatly.

“Walk with me, Lady Ashwell.”

“I will not agree to walk anywhere with you,” you answered.

“No,” he agreed, “I know you do not want to, and neither do I. But I suspect you will anyway. Your lady-in-waiting is watching us very closely from the gate, and if you turn around and leave after only four minutes, she will report it to your mother by supper and your mother will then tell the Queen, and neither of us wants to receive that letter.”

He offered you his arm, “Ten minutes, my lady. One walk around the fountain and I promise I will not smoke.”

You looked at his arm and then looked past him towards the gate. Daisy stood exactly where he said, watching the two of you without even trying to hide it.

You sighed before finally accepting his offer, “Ten minutes,” you said, ignoring the arm he offered you, but began walking beside him anyway, “not a moment longer.”

“Understood,” Jungkook nodded. 

You stood in the kitchen doorway with a mug of tea cooling between your hands.

Jungkook was kneeling on the living room floor. Seoa, your four-year-old daughter, was pulling apart every single one of his neatly stacked financial reports and rebuilding them into what she proudly called a castle.

Jungkook didn’t say a word about the mess in his usually pristine living room.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Fatherhood had softened him in ways you still found funny. With Seoa, almost everything was allowed, unless you said otherwise. Left to his own devices, Jungkook probably would build Disneyland in the backyard if Seoa asked for it. You secretly prayed and hoped she never would.

Documents that once waited for Jungkook’s signature now formed the northern wall of a kingdom under attack from an invisible dragon only Seoa could see. Jungkook had been assigned the role of guard, and he was taking it just as seriously as he took his actual job.

Jungkook loved being a dada more than anything.

He dropped Seoa off at the daycare whenever he was home, no matter how early his meetings started or how packed his schedule was. If he had to fly overseas, he would always book the later flight just so he could take her himself first. And when he was overseas, he made you or Taehwan video-call him in the morning so he could still watch her walk into the daycare.

Most mornings, Seoa insisted on holding the phone herself, giving Jungkook a shaky view of her forehead while she showed him her shoes, backpack, and whatever toy she managed to smuggle into the car.

“Dada, look! Bunny is going to school with me today,” Seoa giggled.

“I can see that,” Jungkook said seriously, “make sure Bunny listens to the teacher.”

He never ended the call until she walked through the daycare doors. Even then, he kept staring at the screen a few more seconds, like she might come running back out.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The two of you never parented the same way.

You were stricter, because you knew how easily wealth could distort a child’s sense of the world. You didn’t want Seoa growing up out of touch with the real world, spoiled, or thinking she deserved more than everyone else just because she was born a Jeon.

Jungkook wanted to give her everything, and so did his parents.

Grandpa Jeon treated every visit like a national holiday. If Seoa mentioned liking something once, it would show up at his house the next day in three different colours. Grandma Jeon was quieter about it, which made her more dangerous. She would hide sweets in Seoa’s coat pockets and would buy her dresses without telling you.

They were terrible influences. Once, Seoa said she liked horses. Grandpa Jeon started looking into riding lessons that same day and Grandma Jeon ordered a tiny riding outfit with boots and helmet included.

“She is four,” you reminded them. “She’ll grow into it,” Grandpa Jeon said. Jungkook didn’t help you, he was already searching for 'how to build a child-friendly stable'.

You had to remind all three Jeons that Seoa was a child, not a princess in need of her own private estate.

Another time, Seoa mentioned she liked butterflies. By the end of the week, Jungkook had ordered butterfly bedsheets, butterfly hair clips, butterfly pajamas, and a child-sized gardening set covered in butterfly stickers.

“She said she liked one butterfly,” you told him. “She might like the others too,” Jungkook replied.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Eventually, the two of you met with a child psychologist to work out how to raise Seoa with privilege without allowing that privilege to shape her character.

There were rules now. Seoa had to say please and thank you, clean up after herself, apologise when she was wrong, and treat everyone with the same respect regardless of their background. Seoa also has small chores and every time she gets a new toy, she would need to pick an old one to give away.

Jungkook still spoiled her, but he learned to do it without letting her become spoiled.

Mostly.

Jungkook still slipped an extra biscuit into her lunchbox when he thought you weren’t looking. He still let her stay in his arms long after she insisted she was too big to be carried. Jungkook still comes home from business trips with his suitcase half full of presents, though he has learned to space them out over months so you wouldn’t notice.

You always noticed.

But Jungkook had also started bringing Seoa along whenever he donated to charities or visited the Jeon Foundation’s community programs. He made her hand over the boxes herself and taught her to greet every employee.

And every night before bed, Seoa had to name one thing she was grateful for, her answer was usually the same.

“Dada!”

Jungkook would look at you with the most unbearable expression of triumph. Then Seoa would add, “And Mama! And ice cream!”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Guard,” Seoa said, holding out her tiny hand, “give me the blue one.”

Jungkook obeyed. The blue report happened to be a projected earnings summary for the Osaka expansion.

“Now the huge one!"

“Which huge one?” Jungkook asked confusedly.

“The one with lots of numbers, silly!” she said giggling at her confused dada. Seoa has recently learned what the word silly meant after Grandma Jeon called her one, and she has been repeating it in almost every sentence.

“They all have numbers, princess,” Jungkook said, letting out a small laugh.

Jungkook had become more expressive since Seoa was born. Not with everyone, since most people still get the same unreadable face, the same measured tone they always hear. But around his family, Jungkook is now completely different.

“The one with the most, most, most numbers,” Seoa explained patiently, “the dragon doesn’t like numbers because they make him sleepy. So he won’t attack us!”

“That’s an excellent strategy,” Jungkook said, completely serious. He handed her what you recognised as the report his finance team had spent an entire week preparing.

Seoa folded it in half and added it to the top of her tower. “Silly dada, now you lie down,” Seoa said, pointing at the floor.

Jungkook looked at her, “Why?”

“Because the castle needs a river, and you’re the river, silly!” Seoa giggled.

Jungkook stared at her with the same flat expression he usually has right before dismantling someone’s entire argument in four sentences or fewer. Then, without a word of protest, Jeon Jungkook, heir to one of the largest conglomerates in South Korea, laid flat on his back in the middle of the living room floor.

Seoa immediately began arranging cushions around him, “No moving,” she warned, “rivers don’t move.”

“Rivers do move,” Jungkook corrected her.

Seoa frowned at him.

Jungkook stayed still, and eventually agreed, “This one doesn’t move.”

“And you have to make water noises!” Seoa said.

So Jungkook made water noises. They were, frankly, a terribly low and unenthusiastic sort of shhh that wouldn’t fool anyone, but Seoa accepted it anyway. She looked around, and you knew exactly what she was thinking about. She wanted to build a bridge which she once built with a stapler she found in Jungkook's office.

“No stapler,” you called from where you were standing, unable to help yourself from getting involved.

“Hear that princess,” Jungkook said to the ceiling, still playing the river, “your mama, the queen, has spoken. No stapler.”

“Fine,” Seoa let out a sigh so dramatic you couldn't help but laugh, “I’ll use silly Dada’s watch instead!”

You watched, delighted and a little disbelieving, as Jungkook unclasped a watch worth more money than most people will ever see in a lifetime and handed it to his daughter without a second of hesitation.

Seoa balanced it carefully across two stacks of reports, “There,” she said proudly, “we now have a bridge!”

Your gaze drifted past them to the pothos on the kitchen windowsill. It had grown enormous over the years, its vines trailing halfway down the cabinet.

You didn’t mean to go back to the past. But if you looked at that plant for too long, it always pulled you back to when you’d just gotten married to Jungkook, before you could stop your thoughts.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The biggest fight you ever had with Jungkook happened two months into the marriage.

Back then, the penthouse still looked more like Jungkook than you. Back before there was a nursery and way before an ultrasound photo was stuck to the fridge with a magnet. Back when you were still learning Jungkook’s habits as a husband, still figuring out which parts of the intense, controlling man you fell in love with had softened into something livable, and which parts hadn’t softened at all.

The fight started over something small.

That was what still unsettled you most, thinking back on it now. How something so ordinary, so embarrassingly domestic, almost tore the two of you apart.

You bought the plant from a Sunday market during your first week of moving in, back when you were still moving boxes from your old apartment in stages. You had no real intention of buying anything until you saw it: a small, slightly crooked pothos, half its leaves gone yellow. It was tucked into the back corner of a table crowded with plants that are healthier.

“No one’s going to take that one,” the vendor said apologetically, already reaching to move it aside.

“I will,” you said.

Something about the way you said it made him look at you a second too long before he wrapped the pot in newspaper and handed it over for less than the price on the tag.

That evening, you placed it on the kitchen windowsill, where the morning light would hit best. That small patch of green made the penthouse feel less cold, like a home people actually lived in.

You watered it every Sunday and turned the pot each time so it would grow evenly. It became a small proof to you that a thing could be given up on by everyone else and still quietly get better.

Then, one evening, you came home, kicked your shoes off at the door, and went to check on it out of pure habit.

And it wasn’t there.

For a second you just stood in the kitchen, blinking at the empty windowsill, like it might reappear if you looked hard enough. You told yourself not to overreact. Maybe the housekeeper moved it to water it, or took it down while cleaning.

You checked the guest bathroom first. Then the pantry, shifting cans and boxes aside. You even stepped onto the balcony in your socks, searching the outdoor furniture.

Then you found the pot. It sat upside down on the drying rack in the laundry room. The pot was scrubbed clean and the plant, your pothos, wasn’t in it. You looked in the bin beside it and found the plant lying right on top, its leaves already wilting.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Did the housekeeper throw out my plant?” you asked Jungkook that night.

Jungkook didn’t even look up from his laptop when he answered, “I asked her to. It was dying and didn’t fit the penthouse.”

It was the calmness in his voice that got to you. Not just what he said, though that was already bad enough, but how easily he said it like a matter-of-fact, something obvious that even you should've understood why he told the housekeeper to throw it away.

You didn’t like that he talked about your pothos like it was a thing that failed to meet a standard, his standard.

“It wasn’t dying, Jungkook. I was nursing it back to recovery, that was the whole point of having it there, so I would see it every day and remember to take care of it,” you said, already visibly pissed off.

Jungkook looked up then, and you watched genuine confusion across his face, “I can buy you a healthier one tomorrow. There’s a florist two blocks from the office.”

“That is not the same plant,” you said quietly.

“I will get you the same plant,” Jungkook said, setting the laptop aside, giving you his full attention in a way that somehow made it worse, because it meant he genuinely didn’t understand what he had done, “they’re replaceable.”

“You threw it away without asking me," you said, shaking your head. you couldn't believe that you had to explain to him what he did wrong.

“It was dying,” Jungkook replied.

“I don’t care,” you said, your voice dropping quieter now, “I hate that you decided, all on your own, that something I loved didn’t belong here anymore. You didn’t ask me, you didn’t even tell me afterwards.”

“I didn’t think it mattered enough to mention," Jungkook now completely closed his laptop and set it aside, “It’s a plant.”

“It’s not about the plant,” your voice cracked on the last word, and you hated that it did, hated that he could hear exactly how much this hurt, “it’s that you think you get to decide what parts of my life are allowed to be in this house, our house! This isn’t a partnership, Jungkook. You’re trying to control me all over again.”

“I wasn’t trying to control you,” his jaw tightened, “I was trying to keep the place presentable.”

“So my plant made the entire penthouse unpresentable?” you asked in disgust, you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“Don’t twist it,” Jungkook shot a glare at you.

“I’m not twisting anything, you threw away something I chose, without asking me first, because it didn’t match your idea of this apartment, and now you’re standing there acting like I’m the unreasonable one for being upset that you did that behind my back.”

“I saw a dying plant sitting in the middle of the kitchen, so I had it removed,” Jungkook stood up, keeping his voice controlled even as his face hardened, “I didn’t realise every decision in my own home required your permission.”

“Your own home,” you repeated quietly, laughing at the absurdity of his words.

His face changed the moment he heard you, he knew what he said was wrong, but the words were already said, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You let out a small laugh, though there was nothing funny about it, “I’ve been living here for two months, Jungkook. My clothes are in your wardrobe, my books are on your shelves and I sleep beside you every night, and the second I do something you don’t like, it becomes your home again?"

“I said it wrong, I didn't mean it that way,” Jungkook said, defending himself.

“No, you were just being honest," you said, correcting him.

His face hardened, “You’re turning this into something it isn’t. We are fighting over a plant right now, don't you think you're being ridiculous?" Jungkook asked, you've never heard his voice this high, not even during wedding planning which were the most stressful days you had gone through with him, and not even once in all the years you’ve known him, “I don’t understand why this is the hill you’re choosing to die on.”

“Because it’s never just the plant with you!" you raised your voice to match his, “you couldn’t stand looking at something imperfect in your kitchen, so you got rid of it. What happens next time something I bring into this house doesn’t meet your standards? What else disappears because you’ve decided it doesn’t belong? Are you going to control what I can and cannot own? Are you going to control what I should and should not like?”

“That’s not what happened,” Jungkook answered.

“We’re married, Jungkook. You don’t get to control everything anymore andm y opinion is supposed to matter too," you said slowly, you didn't mean to sound defeated, but you were so tired of it, so tired of him subtly trying to control you thinking you wouldn't notice it.

“It does matter," Jungkook sighed.

“It doesn’t feel like it," you said looking around the apartment, the spotless counters and the carefully arranged furniture, “I’m your wife, but I feel like I’m slowly disappearing in here. I don’t know how to keep living somewhere that makes me feel like I don’t fit in.”

Jungkook dragged a hand down his face, his breathing had gone uneven for a man who usually controlled every visible reaction, “I need space to think,” Jungkook said.

Your whole body went still. There was nothing cruel in his words, but it felt like a door closing anyway, “Fine.”

You walked across the room and pulled your coat off the hook by the entrance. Your hands were shaking badly enough that you missed the second sleeve twice, “Take all the space you need. I’m going to my mother’s.”

“Y/N.”

You ignored him and reached for the door. Jungkook followed behind, you could hear his footsteps and for one foolish second, you thought he might take your hand, and that he might apologise or ask you not to go.

But instead, you heard his voice coming from behind you, “Mrs. Jeon.”

You froze with your hand on the door. He has never called you that way before. And now your married name sounded like a warning, like he was trying to pull you back into place with just two words. You would be lying if you said it didn't scare you, because you understood now that he was as furious as you were.

You opened the door and stepped out without turning around. For one second, the door stayed open behind you, long enough for you to feel him there, and long enough for some foolish part of you to believe he might stop it from closing.

But then it clicked shut.

You stood there alone, staring at the door, your coat hanging crooked off your shoulders, and your hands still trembling.

Pride was such a stupid thing to lose a marriage over. Both you and Jungkook knew, yet neither of you moved to stop this from blowing up even more.

Jungkook didn’t come after you and you told yourself that was fine. You told yourself you didn’t want him to, not until he understood exactly what he had done.

But some small, aching part of you were listening and hoping for the door to open again behind you until the elevator doors slid closed and took that hope with them.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You stayed at your mother’s house for four days.

You laid in bed the first night with your phone face-down on the nightstand, listening to it buzz twice, then go quiet, twice more an hour later, then again close to midnight. You didn’t answer any of his calls.

Your mother didn’t ask many questions that first night. She made tea, set it in front of you without comment, and let you sit at her kitchen table in silence until you were ready to talk.

“He threw away my plant,” you finally said, even to your own ears it sounded absurd. It sounded like the tiniest thing to fight over and something that shouldn’t send you fleeing across the city to run away from your husband.

Your mother didn’t laugh, she just wrapped her hands around her mug and said quietly, “It’s never really about the plant, is it?”

“No,” you admitted, “it’s not.”

"You married a man who spent his whole life making sure nothing around him could surprise him," she said, "which means loving you is going to demand that he change a lot of his ways, over and over, probably longer than either of you wants it to take."

“That’s not really comforting,” you answered.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

He called every night you were gone and every night, you would let it ring twice before answering, because some tired and petty part of you needed him to sit in that uncertainty a few seconds longer. It was the third night that something finally changed.

“I bought the same kind of pothos and it's on the windowsill like the one you placed before,” he said quietly.

“It was never about the plant, Jungkook,” you sighed and your voice wasn’t as steady as you wanted it to be, “It’s about you doing something without asking me first. Deciding on your own what stays and what goes, and only telling me once it’s already gone and after I asked you about it. You can’t just decide things without telling me, you have to ask me first every time. and I don’t want you to control me. I want you to make room for the things I love."

There was a long pause on the other end, long enough that you almost pulled the phone away from your ear to check the call hadn’t dropped. When Jungkook finally spoke again, his voice had changed, “I miss you,” he said, “I miss you so much and this apartment doesn’t feel right without you in it. and I’m sorry it took you leaving for me to understand what I actually did.”

“I’m not asking you to come back tonight,” he added quickly, like he needed to get it out before you could stop him, “I’m not asking for anything. I just need you to know I’m not fine without you. I’ve spent three nights telling myself I was giving the two of us space, and really I was just too much of a coward to admit how badly I need you here. I don’t function right without you. I never do. Please tell me what to do and I’ll do it, I just don’t want you sleeping somewhere that isn’t next to me."

"Come get me," you finally said, "just come get me, and we’ll figure out the rest of it together."

And Jungkook was there in forty minutes, which meant he left the house the moment the call ended.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn’t fully forgive him that night.

You told him so plainly, sitting across from each other at your mother’s kitchen table, “I’m not saying it’s all fine that now you are here and even after you apologised,” you told him, “but I’m willing to keep trying, because I know you’re willing to keep trying too."

“I understand,” he replied.

Trust, you would learn over the years, wasn’t a single door that opened once and stayed open. It was hundreds of small doors scattered through life and you had to walk through each one separately sometimes more than once.

Jungkook didn’t lose the instinct to control everything overnight. But after that night, he began learning to stop deciding anything on his own without you involved.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

“Mama, look!” Seoa’s voice pulled you back into the present.

Your daughter stood proudly over a wobbling tower made from what used to be Jeon Group’s third-quarter projections on a stack of pillows with her arms spread wide, “I built it so tall Dada can’t even see over it!”

“I can see over it,” Jungkook said, entirely serious.

You noticed that he made no effort to stand and prove it. He stayed flat on his back in his role as the river, letting Seoa have the victory.

“You have to say the magic words,” Seoa told him, “or the dragon eats the castle.”

“What are the magic words?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t know, you have to guess silly!”

“Please don’t eat the castle, dragon,” Jungkook said in a flat tone.

“Wrong, you so silly dada!” Seoa shook her head, “it’s actually, ‘Pretty please with a cherry on top, Dragon Sir.’”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top, Dragon Sir,” Jungkook repeated from the floor, again with a flat tone and expression. You had to press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

There was something precious about watching the most feared businessman in South Korea beg an imaginary dragon for mercy in his own living room, doing it without a trace of impatience or anger, like this was the most important event of his week.

“Good,” Seoa said, finally satisfied, “the dragon says the castle is safe. For now.”

“For now,” Jungkook repeated like he fully expected the dragon to break the agreement later on.

Seoa laughed so hard she nearly knocked over the eastern tower. She caught it with both hands at the last second, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in full concentration.

Once the castle was declared stable, Jungkook finally sat up and Seoa climbed into his lap without saying anything and his arm wrapped around her automatically.

“Dada,” Seoa murmured, already growing sleepy now that the excitement of ruling a kingdom had worn off, “can we build it again tomorrow?”

“We can build it again tomorrow, princess,” he said, before kissing Seoa's forehead.

Seoa yawned against Jungkook’s chest, her small fist curling into his shirt the way it always does before she falls asleep. Jungkook adjusted his arm immediately, supporting her head before it could slip from his shoulder. You walked across the room and lowered yourself beside them, directly into the wreckage of paper towers, cushions, and a kingdom that would be gone by morning.

You looked to the kitchen windowsill and the pothos Jungkook offered as an apology from years ago was still there.

Jungkook looked at you and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“It’s getting closer to the tap,” Jungkook said.

You looked at him and nodded. Years ago, he would have moved it before you came home. He would have chosen a cleaner pot, cut the crooked vines, and placed it somewhere that better suited the room. Now he asked, “Do you want me to move it?”

You smiled at the question, Jungkook was learning. You rested your head against his shoulder, “No,” you said, "leave it.”

Jungkook nodded once and he agreed to leave it exactly where it was.

Beside you, Seoa slept peacefully against his chest.

Around you, financial reports lay crumpled beneath cushions, an expensive watch held together a collapsing bridge, and the living room Jungkook once kept immaculate had become completely unrecognisable.

The pothos continued growing above it all, crooked, imperfect, yet it fits perfectly at home.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Two years later.

Jungkook was halfway through reviewing the quarterly performance report when Seoa appeared in the doorway of his study. At six years old, she already knew that a closed door meant her father was working and that she was supposed to knock three times before entering.

It was a rule you established after she once interrupted a video conference wearing fairy wings and demanded that twelve Jeon Group directors judge her dancing.

This time, she didn't knock. Jungkook looked up immediately and closed the report in front of him. Seoa stood in the doorway wearing pink pajamas and one hand hidden behind her back.

Her expression was unusually serious, which was never a good sign.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing," she answered cheerfully.

Jungkook studied his daughter's face. Seoa has inherited your habit of saying nothing when something was very clearly wrong.

Unfortunately for her, she also inherited several of Jungkook’s mannerisms as a child, including the small movement of her fingers whenever she was hiding something.

“What are you holding?” Jungkook asked.

Seoa slowly brought her hand forward, “Dada, what is this?”

For the first time in several years, Jeon Jungkook’s mind went completely blank.

Seoa was holding a pregnancy test. It was capped, thankfully, but that wasn’t what held his attention. Two pink lines as clear as the day was shown across the test, and Jungkook stared at them longer than necessary before looking back at his daughter, “Where did you find that?”

“In Mama’s bathroom,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Jungkook stood so quickly that his chair rolled backward and struck the bookshelf.

Seoa flinched at the sound, her eyes widening as she pulled the test closer to her chest, “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Jungkook answered instantly. He walked around the desk and crouched in front of her, carefully taking the test from her hand before inspecting her fingers as if the plastic object could somehow have harmed her, “did you touch anything else?”

Seoa shook her head, “It was beside the sink.”

“Wash your hands.”

“But what is it?” Seoa asked again.

“Wash your hands first,” Jungkook answered.

She sighed dramatically but obeyed, walking towards the nearest bathroom while Jungkook followed directly behind her. He stood beside the sink as she washed her hands, making sure she used enough soap and cleaned between every finger, but his attention kept returning to the two lines on the test.

You had been tired recently. You had fallen asleep on the couch twice that week, refused wine at dinner with his parents three nights ago because, according to you, it smelled disgusting, and you stood in front of the refrigerator yesterday with one hand pressed over your mouth.

Jungkook noticed all of it because he noticed everything about you, but every time he asked whether something was wrong, you told him you were fine.

“Dadaa!” Seoa said, trying to get his attention.

Jungkook looked down and found Seoa holding her wet hands in the air, “Towel,” she demanded.

Jungkook dried them himself, carefully wiping each finger before lowering her hands, “There.”

“Now tell me what it is dada!"

Before he could answer, you stopped outside the bathroom, your eyes moving first to Seoa, then to Jungkook, and finally to the pregnancy test in his hand.

Seoa looked between the two of you with growing suspicion, “Mama, Dada won’t tell me what your stick is.”

You closed your eyes briefly before looking at her, “Seoa, could you give Dada and Mama a minute?”

“But I found it,” she argued, “that means I should get to know.”

Jungkook would have agreed with her reasoning under different circumstances, but your eyes shifted toward him, silently asking for help, “Wait in your room,” he told her.

Her small brows furrowed, “Why? Are you fighting?”

“No,” Jungkook replied. “Is Mama in trouble?” Seoa frowned.

Jungkook’s expression hardened before he could stop it, “Your mother is never in trouble.”

Something softened across your face, but Seoa remained exactly where she was, clearly unwilling to leave without an explanation. Jungkook exhaled through his nose and crouched in front of her again, “This test means your mother has a baby growing inside her.”

Seoa’s eyes widened until they looked impossibly large, “A real baby?”

“Possibly.” “In her stomach?” “Her uterus,” Jungkook corrected automatically.

You let out a laugh, “She’s six, Jungkook.”

“She should learn to use the correct word," Jungkook said matter-of-factly.

Seoa ignored the exchange entirely, “Does that mean I’m going to be a big sister?”

“We need a doctor to confirm it first,” he answered, but the qualification did nothing to contain Seoa's excitement.

Seoa screamed loudly enough for the sound to echo down the hallway before throwing herself at Jungkook and wrapping both arms around his neck, “I’m going to be a big sister!”

“Possibly,” he repeated, steadying her with one arm.

“I can teach the baby everything! I can teach them how to read and draw and build castles. Can the baby sleep in my room?”

“No,” Jungkook answered.

“Why?” Seoa pouted, disagreeing with her dada. “Babies wake up throughout the night.” “I don’t mind.” “You will," Jungkook chuckled.

“What if it’s a girl? Can I name her?” “No,” Jungkook said. “What if it’s a boy?” Seoa asked, trying to gain the rights to name her sibling. “Still no,” Jungkook said before kissing her cheek.

Seoa pulled back and frowned at him, “You say no too much these days.”

“You ask unreasonable questions,” Jungkook answered.

You laughed quietly, and Jungkook turned to look at you again. His attention shifted immediately from Seoa’s excitement to the nervous way your fingers were knotted together in front of you.

He lowered Seoa carefully to the floor, “Go to your room. We’ll talk after your mama and I finish talking.”

Seoa opened her mouth to argue, but you quickly added, “You can start making a list of things you want to teach the baby.”

Her face lit up at the responsibility, “I need paper and coloured pens!” Seoa ran down the hallway without another word. Jungkook waited until her bedroom door closed before turning back to you, the pregnancy test still held tightly in his hand.

“How long have you known?”

“About ten minutes," you answered.

You had only known for ten minutes, but something irrational in him still resented that the test had existed anywhere in the world without his knowledge. He wanted to ask why you had taken it alone and why you hadn’t called him into the bathroom. He wanted to know why he had learned that his wife might be carrying his child from someone else. But Jungkook stopped himself.

Years ago, he would have demanded answers first. He would have scheduled a doctor, cancelled your work, contacted the hospital, and reorganised the next year of your life before allowing you to process what just happened. He still wanted to do all of those things. Jungkook's mind was already arranging bloodwork, appointments, your schedule, his flights and meetings, and every meal you have eaten over the past month.

Still, he learned that caring for you didn’t mean moving so quickly that you had no choice but to follow.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asked instead.

“I don’t know yet,” you answered honestly.

Jungkook nodded once before asking, “Do you want to keep it?”

The question visibly surprised you, but after spending the past 10 minutes over it, you knew you wanted to keep it, “Yes,” you answered.

Jungkook walked closer to close the distance between you and pulled you into a hug. He remembered the first pregnancy too clearly; the nausea, hospital visits, and fear that sat beneath his ribs for months disguised as planning and preparation. He remembered waking in the middle of the night simply to place his hand over your stomach and reassure himself that both of you were still there.

He once told himself that a second pregnancy would be easier because he would know what to expect, it wasn’t.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured against him.

“I’m thinking.”

You leaned back enough to look at him, “What are you thinking about?”

“How soon the hospital can see you, whether you’ve eaten anything unsafe, which overseas meetings I need to cancel, and which guest room should become the nursery,” he answered.

“Jungkook,” you teased him as you giggled.

He ignored the teasing in your voice, “You need bloodwork.”

“I know,” you agreed, "you can arrange the appointment,” you told him.

"I'll do it now," he said as he pulled his phone from his pocket, but before he could unlock it, Seoa appeared at the end of the hallway holding three sheets of paper covered in bright colours.

“I made the list!” she screamed.

“You were supposed to wait in your room,” Jungkook said.

“I was, but then I finished," Seoa argued back as she ran toward both of you and held up the first page. Across the top, in uneven purple letters, she had written:

ThINgS I WIlL TIcH mY BaBY

Underneath was a list that included reading, drawing, swimming, building castles, hiding biscuits from Mama, and making Dada say yes to everything.

Jungkook read the last item twice, “That one isn’t happening.” Seoa grinned, “It will happen.”

You laughed beside him, and despite himself, Jungkook felt the corner of his mouth lift and form into a smile. Seoa squeezed herself between the two of you, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other around Jungkook’s leg, “Can I tell Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Not yet,” you and Jungkook answered at the same time.

Jungkook reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, keeping Seoa tucked closely against his side.

There had been a time when he had never imagined himself having a child. Fatherhood seemed too uncertain and vulnerable, and too far removed from the controlled life he had built for himself.

Jungkook certainly had never imagined having two children.

But then he married you, and Seoa entered his life, filling his home with noise, a hell lot of questions, paper castles, and a kind of love he had never known he was capable of carrying.

Now, with the possibility of another child growing inside you, Jungkook realised there was nothing he wanted more than to expand the little family the three of you had created.

Jungkook had always believed in proximity. He had spent years convinced that the only way to keep you from disappearing was to stay close enough to see you, hear you, and know exactly where you were.

Marriage had not changed that belief, neither had fatherhood.

The difference was that he was no longer following just from the shadows. You were beside him, Seoa was wrapped around his leg, and perhaps another child was already growing beneath his hand.

This was still proximity.

The King then turned a page of the document in front of him, "What training have you been giving the soldiers?" The King asked.

"Extended drills across all battalions," Jungkook answered, "combat formations, endurance rotations, and I have been running the senior units through close-range fights twice daily."

The King nodded slowly, "And their condition?"

"Better than when I left," Jungkook replied.

"Good," The King said, setting down the document in his hand to look into the eyes of his most favored son, "I want you to prepare for war."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"How soon?" Jungkook asked, he wasn't surprised. If anything it was expected. Seokjin wouldn't go down without a fight that was just the Jeon in him.

"Soon enough that wasting time is no longer an option," the King replied. Jungkook’s father leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across the documents in front of him. The King has never once in Jungkook's memory appeared to be rattled by anything, which was in its own kind of unsettling and even with what he said next, The King was completely unbothered by it, "Seokjin has been building something on the border territory between the North and the South."

"I know," Jungkook responded, "Woojin has been tracking his movements since we returned. We also have one of our own Demons positioned near their camp."

"And?" The King asked. 

"The Demon is too low in rank to be given any real information on what is happening there," Jungkook said, "he can confirm the camp exists and that Seokjin has followers, but nothing beyond that."

The King nodded slowly, "I suspect he has support from outside the North."

Jungkook thought about it for a moment, before finally asking, "Do you think it could be the Lee?"

The King laughed at his son’s response, "That," The King said, "is exactly why I have always wanted you to take over from me."

Jungkook said nothing to that, and just nodded his head at his father. 

"Yes," The King continued, his expression settling back into his usual composure, "that is what I suspected as well, but their involvement has been difficult to verify. I have not sensed their energy crossing into the North ground. They seem to be careful enough to keep every communication on their own side of the territorial line, which means my sight does not cut cleanly through it."

"So you cannot confirm it," Jungkook said.

"I cannot confirm the full picture of what Seokjin is planning," The King agreed, "but I am old enough to know certain things without needing to see them directly. The Lee has always wanted northern border territory. They have wanted it for generations but never had a clean enough opportunity to take it. An alliance with the Jeon's first-born prince in exchange for an army is exactly the kind of arrangement the Lee would not refuse."

"Seokjin has always been better at reading what other citadels want than at reading what his own citadel needs," The King added, "it is one of his strengths but also the reason he will never be a good king."

Jungkook looked at his father, then sighed before telling him his opinion, "Seokjin will try to kill the both of us. He cannot hold the North throne with either of us alive."

"No," The King simply agreed with his youngest son, "he cannot."

There was silence for a few seconds before Jungkook shared confusedly, "I just cannot seem to understand why he took _____ to Kratos"

The King looked at his son and smiled before answering, "To check how far you will go for her. Seokjin has always understood you better than you liked to believe," The King continued, "he attacks the thing most likely to make you react without thinking. He took the human girl because he knew you would feel it more than you would feel a blade."

Jungkook said nothing to that because what was he supposed to say, really?

"Was he wrong?" The King asked quietly.

Jungkook looked away from his father for the first time since entering the study, his gaze moving to the window and the red sky beyond it.

The King did not pressure Jungkook to answer, because the silence was enough of an answer for him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up sore, which reminded you immediately of the night you spent with Jungkook. You laid still for a moment, blushing at the thought of Jungkook's body above yours, and you just stared at the too-high ceiling of the North tower room.

You turned your head slowly to the other side of the bed, already knowing that you would find an empty bed. Jungkook came and he left, and you were not sure yet whether that bothered you or whether you were relieved by it.

You pressed your face into the pillow for a few seconds before pushing yourself upright.

You swung your legs off the bed and stood up slowly, then you walked towards the bathroom, washed your face, and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes still caught you off guard sometimes, the black with the deep red lines threading through it. Your horns stopped surprising you somewhere around the end of the second week, which felt like its own small milestone. You looked at them now and accepted that they were yours, even if you didn’t choose to be this.

You turned away from the mirror before your head started overthinking.

On the stool near the door, there was a new set of clothes. You noticed it immediately because it wasn’t there when you fell asleep, which meant Woojin came in at some point and left them there without waking you up. There were leather trousers with a sleeveless leather top. Exactly the kind of thing every other Demon woman in this citadel seemed to wear.

You picked up the top and held it out for a second, took one good look at it before getting dressed.

The past two weeks have been less depressing than the first one. You thought about that as you prepared yourself to get out. The first week was the worst of it, the grief sitting so heavily that even getting out of bed felt like hell, which was funny because you are in hell.

But somewhere in the second week, things have changed slowly. 

Jophiel has a lot to do with that. He came every day without fail, brought books and even a tub of Baskin Robbins, and he sat with you every day just to talk. Jophiel never pushed you to accept things as they are. He just shows up, which turned out to be the most useful thing anyone could have done for you.

Woojin had something to do with it too, even though he was probably forced by his “master”. He never said anything, he never asked how you were feeling, and he would probably rather live in Heaven than admit he developed any fondness for you. But he brought food every day, he stayed when you asked him to, and he answered your questions about anything you wanted to know. Coming from Woojin, that was basically a declaration of friendship.

And Jungkook.

Jungkook was trying. You could see it, even when sometimes it came out wrong, even when he said things in ways that didn’t comfort you at all. Jungkook was trying in the only way he knew how, which was infuriating. But the night Jungkook finally came into your room and lowered himself to his knees in front of you, it changed the dynamics between the two of you. You are still angry at him. But you were also, quietly and against your better judgment, glad Jungkook was here.

You smiled at the thought of Jungkook as you opened the door and headed downstairs.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Ymir was already at the overlook when you arrived, sitting on the same stone bench where you first met her, one leg crossed over the other, looking out at the valley below. She turned her head when she heard your footsteps and her face lit up with the same wide smile she gave you yesterday, "You came!" Ymir greeted excitedly.

"I said I would," you smiled as you sat down beside her.

"Demons say things and then don't do them constantly," Ymir said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head, wings spreading slightly behind her, "it is practically an instinct for a Demon to not do what they said they would do. So yes, I am happy you came."

You smiled at her and looked out at the valley for a second, "So," you said, "where are we going?"

Ymir smiled and gestured for you to follow her, "Down."

The path from the citadel to the lower districts was longer than it looked from above.

"The citadel sits at the highest point," Ymir said, gesturing to the citadel without looking back, "everything below it is arranged in layers. The closer to the citadel walls, the higher the rank of the Demon living there. The further out you go, the more ordinary everything becomes."

"Ordinary?" you asked curiously, following her down the steps.

"Yes, in the districts furthest from the walls, Demons are not thinking about citadel politics, war, or territory disputes, they think about their daily lives and living it," Ymir answered. 

You listened as the steps leveled out and you finally stepped on the street in the town below the citadel.

And the town was surprising, to say the least.

You built an image in your head of what the area below the citadel would look like, dark with the same stone as everything else in the North citadel. And the same exact stone was there, yes, but the streets were alive in a way you did not expect. Demons walked through the streets in clusters and some alone, some carrying things, some talking in doorways, and some sitting outside of shops.

"There are markets here," you said, surprised at the view in front of you.

"Of course," Ymir said, coming closer to stand beside you, "what did you expect?"

"I don't know," you admitted, "I think I expected everything in Kratos to look like the citadel, like it was built to prepare for war and nothing else."

Ymir laughed, genuinely amused at you, "The towns were built because Demons still need to converse, eat, trade, and have something to do that is not fighting."

She started walking again and you followed beside her.

The buildings along the streets were made from the same dark stone as everything else, but they weren’t all the same. Some were low and wide, and they were packed with things being sold or traded. Others were taller and narrower, probably homes, you thought to yourself.

"What are they trading?" you asked, looking at the nearest building.

Ymir followed your gaze, "Weapons, mostly or components for armour, blades, and materials for strengthening them. The North is first and foremost a military territory, so that’s where most of the economy starts."

“Are all the shops like this further down?” you asked again.

“Further down it gets more varied,” Ymir replied, “food, building materials, repair supplies, cloth, medicine, tools, basically the kind of things any place needs to keep running.”

"Demons get sick?" you wondered out loud.

"Not often," Ymir laughed, "and rarely, but yes, there are injuries, particularly from training and conflict, and there are conditions that affect Demons that require treatment. That's why there are healers in every district."

You looked at a Demon walking through the street ahead, balancing a wide flat container on one arm. The smell hit you a second later, it smelled rich and heavy in a way you couldn’t name. Your new Demon senses recognised it as food before your brain even caught up.

"Do Demons cook?" you asked.

"Yes," Ymir said, "but Demons do not require food the way humans do, hunger is not the same thing here. But we feel pleasure in eating and there is a culture built around it. Certain foods are associated with certain districts, occasions, and even ranks."

"So food has status attached to it," you mumbled.

"Everything in Kratos has status attached to it," Ymir replied, "but in the lower districts it is less rigid. Down here, food is more about tradition and community than hierarchy."

Ymir led you around a corner, and the street opened up into something similar to a city square in human terms, with buildings on every side and a group of Demons gathered near the middle.

You stopped walking when you noticed three Demons were playing some kind of instrument in the city square. The instruments were nothing you have ever seen before, one was a stringed instrument larger than a cello, another was a percussion instrument made from what appeared to be dark stone bowls of varying sizes, and the third Demon was singing.

The sound was nothing like anything you have heard on earth. It was a sound so slow and deep.

"I didn't know that there were instruments here," you said, "I don't know why I didn't expect it. I think I assumed Kratos was just," you gestured vaguely at the citadel behind you, "that."

"Kratos is many things," Ymir replied.

“What are they singing about?” you asked.

“That song is really old,” Ymir answered, “it’s about how the North was founded. The first Jeon claiming the territory, and what it cost him.”

“Is it a celebration?” you asked, wondering if this was their version of an independence day song.

“Not exactly,” Ymir said, “celebration means joy, and the founding of the Jeon citadel wasn’t exactly joyful, it was more the need to survive.”

You looked at her, “That’s a very dark way to think about history.”

“It’s a North Kratos way of thinking about it,” Ymir replied, “the other citadels celebrate their foundings. The Min have festivals, the Kim have ceremonies, and the Lee have parades with their whole army. The North remembers what it costs them to get here.”

With that in mind, the music made more sense to you than it probably would have before, and as Ymir started walking again, you followed her.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next street ran along the edge of what Ymir called the artisan district, “This is where the makers are,” she said.

The buildings here looked different from the ones near the square. They were wider, with higher ceilings, and a lot of them were open on one side. You slowed down at almost every single one, looking in curiously.

In the first one, a Demon was working with metal. It didn’t look like she was making a weapon, but she seemed to be shaping something smaller and more detailed. Her hands moved carefully, pressing and turning a piece of dark metal until it slowly started to take shape.

"Armour fittings," Ymir said, before you could ask her what the Demon woman was doing, "she is shaping the smaller components that hold the larger pieces together, they matter as much as your weapons."

“Is that their job?” you asked, “making armour fittings?”

“Yes,” Ymir answered, “in the North, most demons have a role in keeping the citadel running. Soldiers are the most obvious, but they’re not actually the majority. For every soldier, there are several demons doing the work behind them. Makers, builders, healers, traders, and administrators in the upper districts who handle the logistics of a territory this size.”

"Administrators," you repeated in surprise, "Demons do administrative work?"

"Someone has to manage the supply lines," Ymir said, almost amused at your surprise, "someone has to track the food stores, weapon inventories, movement of soldiers between posts. Someone has to ensure the lower districts have what they need to function. becasue war requires organisation as much as it requires strength.”

You thought about what Ymir said as you passed the next building where you saw two Demons working on what looked like cloth.

"So…. there's a whole economy here," you said, "a whole society."

"Of course there is," Ymir laughed, "did you think Demons just fought and slept?"

"Honestly," you shyly admitted, "yes.."

Ymir laughed again, "That is the impression the citadel gives, I know. But the citadel is designed to give that impression. It is designed to look like a fortress, kingdom, and nothing more."

You passed a building that was clearly residential, and you could hear children’s voices coming from somewhere behind the stone walls, which made you stop walking.

Ymir stopped beside you, “Young ones,” she explained, before you could ask.

“Demon children,” you said.

“The North does not have many,” Ymir said, “but they exist. Mostly in the lower districts. Soldiers in the upper barracks rarely have young ones, that life is not suited for it. But the makers, traders, and healers in the districts sometimes do.”

You looked away from the house, “What about schools?” you asked, keeping your voice steady even when you couldn’t help but feel sadness rushing in, “do they have education here?”

"Not in the way you mean," Ymir said, starting to walk again, "Demon children learn from their families first or from the Demons around them. There is no formal schooling, knowledge in the North is passed directly, teacher to apprentice for specific skills, parent to child for the rest. The older a Demon gets, the more they absorb from their territory, even the way young ones learn is partly instinct and partly that absorption. A Demon born in the North does not need to be taught that their home is freezing cold and that they need to quickly adapt to survive, it just knows it."

"And a Demon who was born a human?" you asked quietly.

Ymir went quiet for a moment, "That," she answered carefully, "is something I do not have a full answer to. I do not think any other Demon does."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The furthest district from the citadel walls was the oldest part of the lower town.

You noticed the difference in the buildings right away. The stone here was rougher, and the structures weren’t as uniform as the ones closer to the citadel. The streets were quieter too, and most of the Demons walking through them looked older than the ones you’ve seen in the upper districts.

"The founding families settled here first," Ymir explained, "before the citadel was built above them. Before the Jeon established the upper territory as their seat of power, this was where the North began."

"Some of these structures predate the citadel?" you asked.

"Some of them predate almost everything still standing in Kratos," Ymir said.

You walked back through the districts slower than before, taking a different route this time, walking through a section Ymir called the lower market, which was pretty much exactly what it sounded like.

The smells here were different from the artisan district. Richer and more mixed together. There was food you didn’t have names for along with materials and other things your new Demon senses could somehow tell apart, even if your human brain was still trying to figure out what it was.

"What do Demons use for currency?" you asked curiously.

"Depends on the district," Ymir answered, "in the upper districts, influence and rank are the primary currencies. A favour from a senior soldier is worth more than almost any material exchange. In the lower districts, they primarily trade, materials exchanged for materials, skills exchanged for goods."

"Is there no concept of money or coins in Kratos?"

"There are tokens," Ymir smiled at you. 

A regular Demon probably wouldn’t be able to answer your questions, but Ymir did and luckily, you had no way of knowing what most Demons did or didn’t know. 

Ymir, or Eris, was a Kim after all. Her kind knew more than most.

"The North uses tokens for exchange when direct trade is impractical. Most demons here have been in the same district their entire lives, which means they know their neighbours well enough to trade on trust," Ymir continued. 

"Does that ever go wrong?" you asked.

"Constantly," Ymir said, which made you laugh.

You stopped at one of the stalls, drawn by a smell you could not identify.

The Demon behind the stall looked at you, reading you the way every Demon in the North read you when they first saw you. There was a pause in which you braced for the familiar hostility for. Then the Demon reached over and set a small piece of something dark and dense on the surface in front of you, "Try it," he simply said.

You looked at Ymir, who gave you a small nod, then you picked it up and put it in your mouth.

It was unlike anything you have eaten before. Rich and slightly bitter, and your eyes widened involuntarily. The Demon behind the stall watched your face with the satisfied expression of someone who already knew what reaction they were going to get.

"What is it?" you asked.

"Fermented night root," he said, "harvested from the deep stone. It takes two hundred years to prepare properly."

"Two hundred years," you repeated.

"Patience is not difficult when you have enough of it," he said, shrugging his shoulders, and went back to his work.

You stood at the stall still surprised at what you just ate, then looked at Ymir, "That was the best thing I have eaten since arriving here."

"His family has been making it for as long as anyone can remember," Ymir said, as she began to walk again, "he considers the two hundred year fermentation the short version."

You glanced back once at the stall, and the Demon was already focused on something else entirely, unbothered and absorbed in work that has clearly been his entire life and would continue to be his entire life for longer than you can fully imagine.

You thought about Jophiel saying that time not running out might eventually feel freeing, you were not there yet. But walking through the lower district of North Kratos, eating something a Demon spent two hundred years preparing, you thought that maybe you understood, just slightly, what Jophiel meant.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By the time you and Ymir made your way back up the long path towards the citadel, the red sky darkened by a shade, which meant it was now evening in the North.

You were tired from having walked a long distance, but you thought the journey was worth the pain, "Thank you," you said to Ymir when the citadel walls came back into view above you.

Ymir glanced back at you, "For what?"

"For today," you said, "for showing me that this place is more than what it looks like from up there."

"It is easy to only see the citadel," Ymir answered, "especially if the citadel is the only thing that has interacted with you since you arrived."

"Is that why you came to find me? Because you thought the citadel was the only thing I had seen?" you asked. 

Ymir smiled at you, "I came because you looked like someone who needed a friend," she said, "and because I was curious about you."

"Curious how?" you asked.

"Curious about someone who talked back to senior soldiers on their first day," Ymir answered, "most Demons who were born here would have kept their heads down, but you did not."

"I was furious," you said.

"I know," Ymir replied.

You looked at Ymir, the Demon woman who appeared on a stone bench beside you, and offered you the first kindness you were given in the North. You felt the suspicion you have been holding since yesterday ease slightly.

"Same time tomorrow?" Ymir asked.

You thought about Jungkook's warning the night before, and then you thought about the lower districts, and the Demon who spent two hundred years on something worth sharing even with a human-Demon.

"Same time tomorrow," you answered, smiling at Ymir.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came back to your room that evening with a head full of everything you just saw in the lower districts. The music in the square, the fermented night root, everything. You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your boots, then set them neatly by the door out of habit you were used to on earth, and then just sat back on the edge of the bed.

It was actually a good day.

You were still sitting there when you felt the change in the air that meant Jungkook was walking towards your room.

Jungkook knocked on your door, and you appreciated it more than you had expected to, "Come in," you said.

Jungkook walked across the room without speaking and sat on the couch right across your bed, placing his arm along the back of it, "How was it?" he asked.

"Good," you answered, and then, because the day was genuinely a good day, you wanted to talk about it more, "better than good, actually. I didn't expect what I saw. Ymir explained all of the things we walked past, which was really helpful.”

Jungkook's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of her name, but he said nothing about it. You also noticed how his demeanour changed but chose not to address it. 

You looked at him across the room, and thought about how strange it was that this was your life now. Sitting in a room in a Demon citadel with the Demon who had, depending on your mood and the time of day, ruined your life and saved it.

"Come here," you said, pointing at the spot next to you on the bed.

Jungkook looked at you for a few seconds, like he couldn’t believe his ears, before moving from the couch to the bed without any argument, sitting beside you with enough space between you. You leaned back against the headboard and looked at the ceiling.

"Can I ask you something?" you said.

Jungkook didn't say anything and just looked at you from the side, waiting for your question. 

"When you were in the studio," you said cautiously, "all those centuries, what did you think about?"

Jungkook was quiet for long enough that you thought he might not answer, "Kratos, at first," he said, "the citadel, my father, the politics of what I left behind. I spent a long time running through scenarios; what Seokjin would do, what the court would do, whether my father would intervene."

"And then?" you asked.

"And then I ran out of scenarios to think about," he said, "there are only so many possibilities of a situation you can work through before you have exhausted all of them. After that there was just the room."

"That sounds unbearable," you said.

"It was," Jungkook answered "for a long time it was.”

"What were they like?" you asked, "the other tenants before me."

"Afraid," he said, "all of them were afraid in different ways, some loudly and some quietly. But the fear was constant. You were afraid too," he chuckled, "but you were also annoyed and fiery, which was new."

You let out a small giggle, "I was extremely annoyed."

"Yes," he agreed, "it was interesting though.”

"I'm still annoyed at you," you said, which was true, but it also did not stop you from leaning into his shoulder.

"I know," Jungkook said.

"I'm going to continue being annoyed at you," you added.

"I know that too," he said.

Jungkook turned his head toward you slowly, his gaze dropped from your eyes to your mouth and back to your eyes again.

His fingers gently lifted your chin, moving your face toward his and you let him.

The next second, you felt his lips pressed against yours softly, like he was almost too careful, it was as if Jungkook was aware of how fragile the moment was.

You felt his thumb move along your jaw, the familiar cold of his skin against yours that no longer startled you the way it once did.

When he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, Jungkook gave you a small smile. You looked back at him in the dim light of the North tower room, at the curve of his horns and the dark red lines threading through his eyes.

Then, Jungkook kissed you again, even slower this time.

And you let yourself stop thinking entirely.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook was already gone when you woke up, which was normal, but this time there was something different about his absence. You sat up slowly on the bed, and noticed a piece of dark paper on the couch across from the bed, which wasn’t there last night.

You crossed the room and picked it up.

The writing on it was not like any script you have seen on earth, but your demon senses read it without effort, which you were still getting used to.

“War preparations begin today. I will not be available for the next few days. Stay inside the citadel walls if you can. Woojin knows where I am if you need anything.

And don’t forget to eat something.”

You read it once.

Then you read it again just to make sure.

War preparations.

You stood still in the middle of your room with the note in your hand and you were confused, angry, upset, all at once. Jungkook didn’t mention anything about a war happening, he didn’t tell you anything last night. He laid beside you last night and said almost nothing about what was actually coming. 

War preparations. 

As if that was a normal thing to just leave on a couch, like two words were sufficient explanation for whatever was currently pulling him away from everything else, from you.

You set the note back on the couch and stood there for another moment, feeling frustrated of caring about someone who communicated in the absolute minimum number of words required.

Then you looked at the last line again.

And don't forget to eat something.

You let out a bitter laugh.

Of course Jungkook, the Demon prince of North Kratos, is preparing for a war he did not tell you was coming, but remembered to remind you about dinner.

You were going to have a few words with him about this when he comes back to visit you, whenever that was.

you sighed when you realised that over the next few days, there would be no Jungkook or Jophiel, who mentioned the last time you saw him, that he had obligations in another realm that would keep him away for at least one week. And Woojin would rather remove one of his own horns than have an unprompted conversation with you.

So, you got dressed and went to find Ymir.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Ymir was where you expected her to be, at the overlook, sitting on the stone bench. She looked up at you when she heard your footsteps, "I heard the prince has locked himself in the war rooms," she said.

"He left me a note," you said, sitting down beside her.

"How romantic," Ymir said, and her tone was flat and unamused, but you shrugged it off. Maybe Demons just don’t care about romance. 

Ymir tilted her head at you before asking, "How much time do you have today?"

"All of it," you said, "apparently."

She stood up from the bench, stretched her wings briefly behind her, and said, "Then we're going to the ridge."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The eastern ridge was further than anywhere you have been in Kratos. Well, it wasn’t like you’ve been traveling much here, but today was another first.

You left the lower districts behind and followed a path that ran along the citadel’s outer wall before turning east. It took around an hour by foot, and the ground here was uneven, with dark stone forming in sharp angles and casting long shadows under the red sky. 

"This is border territory," you said, after you have been walking for a while, not knowing how you knew this information, but it’s probably your Demon senses again.

"Mhmm," Ymir nodded and confirmed, "we are still well within the North. The actual border is another hour's walk east. But this is where the territory starts to change."

You followed her up the ridge until the path evened out into a wide and flat stretch of rock. From there, the view looked completely different from anything you’ve seen in the citadel or the lower districts. You could see the North spreading out in every direction. The citadel and the lower districts gathered below it and towns and smaller fortresses farther out.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” you said as you sat down beside Ymir, and looked out over the territory.

“Tell me about the smaller fortresses,” you said, pointing toward the structures in the distance, “what exactly are they?”

"Garrison posts," Ymir said, "each one holds a battalion of soldiers stationed permanently away from the main citadel. They are the first line of response if anything crosses the border, or if anything moves within the territory that the citadel needs to know about quickly."

"So they're like outposts," you stated.

"Yes," Ymir confirmed, "the North operates in layers. The citadel is the core, the garrison posts are the ring around it, and the border patrols are the outermost layer. Between the three, nothing moves through North Kratos without being seen."

"Even Seokjin?" you asked, before you could stop yourself. You didn't know if this was a sensitive topic to the other Demons as well. But your curiousity could not be helped.

Ymir was silent for some time, "Yes, including Seokjin," she agreed, "but he knew the system from the inside and knew exactly which layers to avoid and which ones to use."

"Were you here when he was still in the North?" you asked.

"Yes," Ymir said.

"What was he like?" you asked.

Ymir looked out at the view of the territory and sighed before answering, "Charming," she said before continuing, “he was the first prince, he had his father's ear, and he seemed interested in what the lower districts needed and then he was just gone," Ymir said, "and the lower districts realised the interest he had has always been a strategy rather than genuine concern."

"Ymir," you called out.

"Yes," she answered.

"Why are you kind to me?" you asked. You know you’ve asked her a similar question before, but you wanted the reassurance that she wasn’t some Demon who would eventually betray you.

Ymir looked into your eyes, "Because I know what it is to not belong somewhere and still have no other option," she said, "my family has served the Jeon for three generations. My grandmother served the King before Jungkook's father, and now my mother and I. I was born into the North, it is the only territory I have ever known, and still there are Demons in the upper citadel who would look at me and see a lower district soldier and nothing more."

"So you understand what it is like to be dismissed by a place you live in," you said.

"Yes," she answered, "and I understand what it feels like to have someone decide what you are before you even have the chance to show them."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came back from the ridge as the red of the sky darkened, with your legs aching, and your head full of everything you saw today.

Ymir left you at the path that led back up to the citadel with a promise to meet you the same time the next day.

You ate dinner alone in your room, something Woojin left on the tray that turned out to be genuinely so fucking good, and then you sat on the windowsill with one of Jophiel's books and tried to read.

You managed to read four pages before you set the book down and sat quietly.

Somewhere inside the citadel, Jungkook was in a room somewhere you didn't know, planning, laying out the pieces of something that would determine whether the North survived what was coming, whether you and him would survive it.

Although he didn’t tell you, it was pretty easy to guess that this war probably has something to do with Seokjin. You wondered how Jungkook feels knowing he would have to kill his own brother.

You pressed your back against the stone of the window frame and looked up at the red sky. You shrugged the thoughts out of you, they were useless thoughts you would not be able to figure out unless you talk to Jungkook himself.

So you picked up the book again and read until you fell asleep sitting up.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next day, Ymir took you to the healers' district.

You did not know it existed as its own district until she mentioned it on the walk down from the citadel, to see a cluster of structures in the western corner of the lower town.

"The healers are separate from the rest," Ymir explained as you walked next to her, “the healers in the North figured that healing work needed a kind of silence the lower districts couldn’t really give.”

The healers' district was immediately distinguishable from the rest when you finally arrived in it. The streets were wider, the buildings lower, and the noise of the town dropped off by a lot. The structures here were larger than the residential buildings in other districts, with wide doorways and high ceilings visible through the windows.

"What do Demon healers actually do?" you asked.

“They treat injuries from combat, training, or fights between demons that get out of hand. There are sicknesses too, mostly from the founding energy and how it moves through a Demon’s body. Those need a different kind of treatment and the best healers in the North have knowledge that goes back to the founding," Ymir added, "they are not soldiers but they are considered essential. A citadel without good healers loses far more battles."

You passed an open doorway and glanced inside, watching a Demon working at a wide stone table, their hands moving over something you couldn’t really see. The smell coming from the building was different from everything else in the lower districts, “Can we go in?” you asked.

Ymir hesitated for just a second, “Healers are particular about visitors,” she said, “but Okla has known me since I was young, she might not refuse.”

Okla turned out to be an older Demon, you didn’t see any physical sign of aging, because Demons did not age visibly, but it was just something in her presence that was different from the soldiers and other Demons you encountered in the citadel and the districts.

She looked at you and knew exactly who you were in one glance, "The former human," Okla said.

"Yes," you said.

"Hm," Okla replied, and she just went back to what she was doing.

"What is she making?" you whispered to Ymir.

"Something for energy disruption," Ymir said quietly, "it is used when a Demon has taken damage to their founding energy connection, it is delicate work."

You watched Okla work without speaking, and she seemed unbothered by the observation. Her hands moved with the same precision you saw in the artisan district. After a few minutes Okla looked up from the containers and looked at you directly, "You are carrying a disruption," she said.

You blinked, "What?"

"Your energy," she said, "the human and the Demon energies are still fighting it each other quietly. It is not unusual for a new transformation, but yours has been extended by the circumstances of how it happened. The result is that the two parts of what you are have been working against each other rather than with each other."

"Is that dangerous?" you asked.

"Not immediately," she said, "but it will cause you difficulty over time if it remains unaddressed, such as fatigue, difficulty controlling the traits, and heightened emotional response."

"I have heightened emotional response already," you chuckled.

"More than you have now," Okla flatly replied.

You looked at Ymir, then back at Okla, "Can you fix it?"

"I can help it settle and quiet down quicker," she said, "it will take several sessions and it will not be comfortable, but yes."

"Okay," you answered, "when can we start?"

Okla looked at you, "Tomorrow," she said, "come back in the morning."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You and Ymir ate in the lower districts that afternoon, sitting outside one of the food stalls with things you could not name and found yourself eating enthusiastically anyway, which Ymir found amusing.

"You eat like someone who is still surprised food exists here," she said.

"I am still surprised food exists here," you said, "I spent my first two weeks convinced that everything in Kratos was black and read and violent."

"It is mostly black and red and violent," Ymir said, "but it is also this. Ah, can I ask you something?"

"Yes," you said, nodding your head at her.

"Jungkook, what is he actually like?” Ymir asked out of nowhere.

You chewed on your food slowly, thinking about the question and how to answer it, "Honestly," you said, "he is difficult, but he is also…" you paused, "trying."

"Trying to do what?" Ymir asked.

"To be something other than what he was built to be," you said, "I think.." you added sounding unsure, "although he would absolutely deny that if I said it to his face."

Ymir stared at you, "You care about him," she stated.

You looked down at the food in front of you, "It is complicated," you said.

"Most things worth caring about are," Ymir replied.

That night you sat on the windowsill again, later than you meant to, looking at the red sky and thinking about the session with Okla tomorrow and about Ymir's question and the answer you had given her.

It is complicated.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Okla’s work was, as promised, not comfortable.

You sat in the middle of the healer’s building on a stone stool while Okla moved around you. She was precise and every movement she made was controlled. She applied the compound she has been preparing the day before to specific points along your back and shoulders. Each touch brought a strange sensation with it, it wasn’t exactly painful, but it was sharp enough that your Demon senses flinched before slowly adjusting.

"Breathe," Okla said, more than once.

You did as asked. The session lasted for two hours, and when it was over you sat very still for a moment with your eyes closed.

It felt different, your body felt different.

"Come back in two days," Okla said, already moving back to her work table.

"Thank you," you said.

She made a sound that was both acknowledgement and dismissal, and you decided to just nod at her and leave Okla to be.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You found Ymir outside waiting for you and the two of you walked back through the lower districts without any particular destination.

"She helped," you said.

"Okla always helps," Ymir replied, "she is not warm about it but she is good at it."

You walked through the artisan district, stopping at the stalls you have already been to and a few you haven’t. You got something from the food stall nearest the square, something wrapped in dark leaf that turned out to contain something sweet and intensely flavoured, and ate it while you walked. "Three days," you said, after a while.

"What about them?" Ymir asked.

"Since Jungkook got busy with the war preparations," you said, "it has been three days since I last saw him."

Ymir glanced at you, "Are you counting them?"

"No," you said, and then followed it with a shy, "maybe."

Ymir said nothing to that, which you appreciated.

"Ymir," you said.

"Yes," she answered.

"When the war comes," you said carefully, "what happens to the lower districts?"

She went quiet for a moment, "The lower districts will prepare for it," she said, "they always have. The garrison posts receive reinforcements, the healers expand their capacity, the makers will work faster. The lower districts have been through conflict before and they know what it requires."

"And the Demons in them?" you asked.

"They will continue to live. The soldiers fight for them and the districts will continue on living, because if the districts stop, then there is nothing for the citadel to protect and fight for."

"I want to help," you said, and heard the words leave your mouth before you even decided to say them out loud.

Ymir looked at you, surprised at what you just said.

"When the war comes," you said, "I want to do something. not just stay inside the citadel walls and wait. I want to be useful."

"What can you do?" Ymir asked, it was a genuine question.

“I can teach,” you said. “I can communicate, I can organise. I spent two years managing twenty-two children at once, which, honestly, is probably not that different from managing soldiers when it comes to the basic skills.”

Ymir laughed at what you said.

"I am serious," you said, though you were also smiling, "Okla said she can keep helping me," you said, "a few more sessions and she thinks the disruption can be fully settled."

"That is good," Ymir said.

"Yes," you agreed, "it is."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

That night, Woojin knocked on your door. You were expecting a food tray, but he was not carrying one. He stood in the doorway with his arms loose at his sides, "Master Jungkook will be available tomorrow," Woojin said.

"Is he alright?" you asked.

"He is tired," Woojin said, "the war preparations are extensive and he has not slept in three days."

"Woojin," you said.

"Yes," he answered.

"Make sure he eats something," you said, "he left me a note about eating and then clearly did not take his own advice."

Woojin looked at you for a moment, he wondered if you knew that Jungkook had gone months without eating and sleeping before, simply because he was powerful enough to do it.

"I will convey the message," Woojin said just to conclude the conversation.

"Thank you," you muttered.

He turned to leave, then stopped, and turned back to look at you, which was unusual enough. "You went to the lower districts," Woojin said, tilting his head at you, "to see Okla."

You were pretty surprised that Woojin knew this.

"She is good," Woojin added, "if she says she can help you settle the disruption, she will."

“Woojin,” you said, “are you checking on me? or stalking me?”

His jaw tightened slightly, "I am conveying relevant information," he said.

"Of course," you said.

And with that, Woojin left.

Jungkook had told you someone would be following you and Ymir, but you hadn’t noticed anyone, not even once. So realising Woojin knowing exactly where you have been, and what you have done, caught you off guard. 

Whoever the Demon they have assigned to follow you around, must be one good secret agent. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Woojin had been gone for less than an hour when you heard the footsteps in the corridor.

You recognised the pace of the footsteps that you have learned over weeks of listening to them, and you sat up straighter on the windowsill where you have been reading.

Jungkook knocked on the door twice. 

"Come in," you said, already setting the book down.

Jungkook opened the door and stepped inside, and you looked at him before saying, "I thought you would be here tomorrow."

He walked across the room without answering immediately, and then he did something that surprised you. Jungkook sat down on the bed, swung his legs up, and laid back against the pillow with his wings folding close behind him and his eyes on the ceiling.

Then Jungkook said, "I missed you."

You stayed on the windowsill for a moment, looking at him laid out on your bed and felt the familiar mix of irritation and warmth, which has basically become the entire experience of knowing Jungkook.

You moved from the windowsill and sat on the edge of the bed beside him, "Woojin said you haven't slept in three days," you said.

"Woojin talks too much," he replied, still looking at the ceiling.

"Woojin is the only reason I know anything that is happening in this citadel," you said, "since apparently you communicate exclusively through notes that contain the minimum possible information."

Jungkook turned his head to look at you, "How were the past three days?" he asked.

You sighed before telling him about the ridge, the view from the flat rock at the top, about Okla and the healer's district, and the two parts of you slowly learning to cooperate. 

Jungkook listened to all of it without interrupting, his eyes fixed on your face. When you finished, you looked at him directly into his eyes and confronted him, "You didn't tell me about the war."

Something changed in his expression, "You don't need to concern yourself with it," he said.

"I live here," you said.

"I know," he replied.

"I live here," you repeated slowly, "which means whatever happens to this citadel and to the North Kratos happens to me as well. I am not a visitor, Jungkook. I am not someone you need to protect from information."

"I am not protecting you from information," Jungkook said, defending himself, "I am protecting you from unnecessary worry."

"That is the same thing," you said.

He looked at the ceiling again, and you could see him choosing his next words carefully, "The war preparations are handled," he said finally, "the strategy is in place, what you know the details of would change nothing."

"I want to help," you said.

"It is not needed," Jungkook replied.

You opened your mouth and he cut you off before you could say anything, "Not because you are incapable," Jungkook added, "because the role I need you in is not on a battlefield. Keeping yourself safe and inside the citadel walls is not nothing, it is the thing I need most so I do not have to divide my attention."

It was not the answer you wanted but it was also not an unreasonable answer, which was the kind of thing Jungkook does that makes him difficult to argue with.

"Will you at least survive it?" you asked, and your voice came out quieter than you intended, "will you come back from it?"

Jungkook turned his head towards you again, his expression changing into something almost insulted by the question you just asked. He wasn't angry at you, but the idea of losing has never once crossed his mind.

Of course Jungkook was going to win, that was written plainly across his face without him needing to open his mouth.

"I have no one here other than you and Jophiel," you said, "Woojin tolerates me, Ymir is a nice friend but she is a soldier. I’m guessing both her and Woojin will be gone too. Okla helps me because it is her work, and the rest of this citadel looks at me like I am something that should not exist. You and Jophiel are the two friends I have here. So I am asking you as the person who is going to be in this room waiting, will you come back?"

Jungkook looked at you before he reached over and pulled you down beside him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, your back against his chest, and the coldness of his body radiating through your clothes the way it always does. Jungkook cuddling you helped your mind stop racing to things that might not even happen.

"It is Seokjin, isn't it," you said, after a moment. It came out as a statement rather than a question because you already knew the answer and had known it since the note on the couch.

Jungkook was quiet, then he nodded once, you felt the movement of his chin against the top of your head.

"Are you afraid?" you asked.

His arms tightened slightly around you, and he said, "Never."

You thought about calling him a liar. But his arms were around you and the war preparations had kept him away for three days and he had come back tonight instead of tomorrow because he missed you. So you decided that some things did not need to be talked about tonight.

"Okay," you said quietly.

You laid there in silence with Jungkook’s arm around you. “You should sleep,” you said softly, rubbing your hand over his. For once, Jungkook didn’t argue.

Somewhere between one breath and the next, with the silence of the citadel around you and the red sky still burning outside, Jungkook, the prince of North Kratos, fell asleep.

You stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling. You thought about what was coming, about Seokjin somewhere beyond the citadel walls, building something you didn’t know the scale of, about Okla and the upcoming sessions, and the two parts of you still trying to exist in the same body. 

And you thought about how Jungkook said “Never.”

He is a Demon prince. Jungkook is powerful enough to survive almost anything. So if he was certain he will win, then you were going to believe him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Ymir was at the overlook when you arrived, which was where she always was, but something about her this morning was different. She was standing rather than sitting, facing away from you when you came up the path, looking out at the valley below with a posture that seemed less relaxed than her usual demeanor.

She turned around when she heard you and smiled immediately, and whatever you noticed in her posture was gone so quickly you thought you might have imagined it.

"I have something to show you today," she said, before you even reached the bench.

"Where?" you asked.

"Further than we have been," she said, "past the ridge. There is a formation I have been wanting to take you to since we started these walks, and today feels like the right day."

"How far past the ridge?" you asked curiously. 

"One hour, maybe a little more," she said, "the path is clear. I have walked it many times."

"What exactly is the formation?" you asked.

“The deep stone pit,” Ymir said. “that’s where the heat under the North comes up through the ground. You can see the founding energy moving through them directly, like the actual current of the energy. It is one of the most extraordinary and beautiful things in the North, and only Demons in the North can see it.”

"Alright," you said, and hated that you said it even as the word left your mouth, because the part of you that spent months learning to trust your instincts in a haunted studio was telling you something but you were choosing not to listen to it.

You were either going to regret this choice or feel bad for not trusting Ymir, who has been nothing but nice to you. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The path past the ridge was different from the terrain you covered in the previous three days. The lower districts fell behind quickly, and then the ridge itself, and then you were in territory that was unfamiliar, the dark rock formations taller and more densely packed than the open ground near the eastern border.

Ymir walked ahead of you, confident and unhesitant, the same way she always walked through the North, like someone who has grown up knowing every corner of it. So you followed and paid attention to her footsteps.

The sounds of the lower districts were gone. The ambient noise of the town, the movement of Demons through streets, the distant sounds of the training grounds, all of it faded into silence.

"How much further?" you asked.

"Not far," Ymir said, "another twenty minutes."

You continued to walk. The rock formations around you grew denser, their shadows longer, and the temperature dropped in a way that was different from the North's usual cold.

And then you saw it.

The ground ahead was split open into a pit, wide and hollow, maybe fifty metres across. At the centre, the founding energy moved in a way you could actually see, it was like a river of dark red veins. 

It was, exactly as Ymir had said, extraordinary.

You stopped at the edge of it, looking down at the dark red threads, and for a moment everything else in your mind went silent because nothing in your experience, human or Demon, had prepared you for the sight of something like this.

"I told you," Ymir said beside you, whispering softly. 

"Yes," you said, "you did."

You stood there for a long moment, just looking at it.

And then something in the air changed. It was the kind of change in atmosphere that meant a presence has arrived that was not supposed to be there. Your Demon senses registered it before your mind caught up to it.

It was something that was not you or Ymir.

It was rather some other Demon.

You turned your head slowly, and Ymir was standing two steps to your left, and she was not looking at the vents anymore, she was looking at you.

And then something happened to her face.

It was like watching a mask being removed, the wide warm smile, the curious and kind eyes, and the three days were dropping away, replaced by something entirely different.

Something colder and what your Demon senses tell you is considerably more dangerous.

Ymir’s energy changed at the same moment. The energy you read as a lower district soldier, as someone born and raised in the North with three generations of family service behind her, changed and underneath it was something else entirely.

Something that was not North energy at all.

The borrowed energy of Ymir peeled away like skin.

You stared at the demon standing in front of you, who was not Ymir, who you figured has never been Ymir, and whose white eyes were looking at you with a gaze of someone who has been waiting a very long time to be exactly where they were.

"My name," she said, and her voice was different from Ymir's now, "is Eris.”

Your heart was beating loud and fast against your chest.

"I bet," Ymir, or Eris, continued, tilting her head with a huge smile across her face, "you have heard about me, honey."

You said nothing.

Your heart was slamming against your ribs but your face was still and you were trying to keep it that way because showing Eris any emotion felt like handing her something she would use against you immediately.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You heard about her.

You remembered Jophiel who described her as intelligent, powerful, and difficult in every way. A Demon Jophiel loved, who is now currently standing three feet from you with white eyes and a smile that was not at all warm.

"Eris," you said, and you were proud of how steady your voice came out.

"There it is," she said, the smile widening slightly, "he told you about me."

"Jophiel told me about you," you said.

"Of course he did," she said, "Jophiel always was thorough. You know, your trust is easier to gain than I expected. You were so hungry for someone to be kind to you. It was almost too simple,” Eris laughed.

You put two and two together and thought of every place Ymir has taken you to, every question she answered too easily, every moment she looked at you and smiled, and suddenly it all seemed obvious.

"You did all of this," you said, "for Seokjin."

"I did all of this," Eris said, taking one step towards you, "for myself."

"You want Jungkook," you said.

"He was always mine," Eris said, "before you existed in any form that mattered. Before you were anything more than a human woman paying cheap rent. I had him and I had Jophiel and I would have kept both of them if certain beings had not interfered."

"He never desired you," you muttered.

"You," Eris said, very quietly, "are going to want to be very careful about what you say next."

"I'm already past careful," you said, "you've been lying to me for three days and you're about to take me somewhere I don't want to go. I don't think being careful is an option for me anymore. I know I will die."

Eris laughed, “At least you are smart. But I now understand why he finds you so interesting."

"That is not a compliment," you said.

"No," she agreed, "it isn't."

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn't think, you just moved.

Your body moved backwards, away from her, and you let your Demon energy spike outward defensively. It was instinctive, you didn’t know how that happened but it just did.

"Interesting," Eris said, tilting her head, “you're still trying."

It was the only warning you got before she crossed the space between you. You threw up your hands to block, but Eris’s speed was nothing like what your newly-turned body could process. Her fist came at your face and you barely managed to escape it.

You counterattacked without thinking, throwing a punch at her midsection. But Eris didn't even flinch, she grabbed your wrist and twisted it, the pain that shot through your arm was a solid eight out of ten.

"Weak," Eris spat out, pulling you towards her and driving her knee toward your stomach. You gasped in pain, trying to create distance, but Eris was already moving again. Her other hand came up and caught you across the face.

Your vision blurred, and you tasted blood.

"That's better," Eris said, and there was amusement in her voice, “fight back, make this worth my time."

You pushed off the ground, launching yourself at her with everything you had. Your claws extended and you didn't remember doing it consciously, but they were out, and you raked them towards her face. Eris caught your wrist easily, but this time you have momentum, you put your other hand up to claw at her arm.

"You're adorable," she said, and threw you back to the ground.

Your back slammed into one of the rock formations, hard enough that the stone cracked under the force of your body. Eris walked towards you slowly, like someone strolling through a garden rather than someone in the middle of a fight.

You tried to push yourself up, but your body wasn't responding the way you wanted. You managed to get to your hands and knees before Eris reached you. She grabbed a fistful of your hair and wrenched your head back to look at her.

"You know what the best part about all of this is?" Eris asked, her white eyes boring into yours, "you trusted me. For three days, you walked with me and you told me everything. You told me about your students, your life on earth, how lonely you were.” 

She pulled your head back even further, and you clawed at her wrist, but your strength was fading, "Jungkook made you think you mattered," Eris continued, “that your presence here changed anything, that he even felt something for you beyond obligation and debt. But I knew better, I knew that you were exactly what I needed to remind Jungkook where he belongs."

"He doesn't want you," you managed to say, “he never did."

Eris's expression went rigid, if you thought she was angry before, well she was furious now. She pulled your head back and slammed it forward into the ground. The impact was painfully devastating, your vision went red, then white, then started to shatter. You felt blood running down your face.

"That mouth of yours," Eris said, pulling you up by your hair again, "is going to be a problem." then Eris hit you again and again.

At some point, the pain became almost too unbearable that you felt some kind of out of body experience, your body was clearly shutting down, your Demon senses were flickering like a dying light. You could taste blood and feel it running from your nose and your mouth. 

"Please," you whispered, and you hated yourself for it, but you said it anyway, “please."

Eris leaned down close to your face, and her breath was cold against your cheek, "I'm going to keep you alive," she said softly, "I'm going to keep you alive because Jungkook needs to see what happens when he chooses someone over me. I'm going to keep you alive so he can spend the rest of his existence knowing that you suffer because of him."

She pulled back, and you saw her fist coming toward your face one more time.

In that moment before her fist touched you, the last thought that crossed your mind was Jungkook. 

And then, everything went black.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook was in the middle of a combat drill with the senior battalion when The King appeared on the training grounds.

It was unusual.

The King rarely comes to the training grounds, he did not usually involve himself in the day-to-day operations of military preparation. He commanded from his tower, moved through the citadel via the upper corridors, and allowed his son to handle the grunt work of keeping the North's soldiers sharp and ready.

Yet here he was, walking across the training grounds with Woojin at his side, his presence was followe by an immediate silence. The soldiers around Jungkook stopped their drills and dropped to one knee. Jungkook straightened his posture, wiping sweat from his forehead, and watched his father approach him.

The King did not stop when he reached Jungkook. He walked until they were standing close enough that only Jungkook could hear his words.

"_____ is gone," The King whispered quietly to his son, "Eris was here."

For a moment, Jungkook didn't process what his father just said to him, "What?" Jungkook asked again.

"Eris," The King repeated with disgust, and Jungkook has never heard his father sound like this before, "The Kim demon, she was disguised in the North and she took your woman."

Jungkook's whole body went still, trying to process the information as quickly as he could, "How long has it been?" he asked his father.

"I discovered the deception around three minutes ago. I believed it just completely wore out then. They were in the deep stone, I'm guessing they would be almost out of the border by now. I have made the Eastwatch and Northpoint garrison post aware of what is happening," The King said.

Jungkook turned to look at Woojin, who met his gaze without flinching. Woojin's jaw was clenched and his tail was rigid with tension. It was the only sign that the usually controlled Demon was also affected by this.

"Seokjin," Jungkook said.

"Yes," The King confirmed, “I am guessing this was always the plan, the human was the variable. He needed you out of the North to strike and what better way than to have the thing you care about taken from you?"

Jungkook's hands clenched into fists, "Jophiel?" he asked.

"Still in his realm, but I have already sent words out," The King said, "Jungkook, I saw this coming."

Jungkook's head snapped towards his father.

"The futures where I intervened ended in the North's collapse," The King continued, “the futures where I allowed this to play out... some of them end in victory. All of them required Seokjin to kidnap ____. Now, you should take Woojin and however many soldiers you need. I will hold this citadel until you return or I will die trying."

Jungkook looked out across the training grounds, at the soldiers who stopped to watch The King and his beloved son. Then Jungkook turned around to look back at his father.

"She was supposed to be safe," Jungkook said.

"No Demon is ever safe," The King replied, “but she is yours to save or lose, choose and move wisely."

Jungkook turned around and walked away from his father and towards the armory. Behind him, he heard his father call out to the gathered soldiers, preparing the North for war.

But Jungkook's mind was already beyond the citadel walls.

Seokjin did not understand that Jungkook would burn the entire North to ashes if it meant getting you back.

And as Jungkook strapped his weapons across his body, he made himself a promise: Eris and Seokjin would beg for death before this was over.

And Jungkook would not grant them that mercy, for death would be far too easy a punishment.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Woojin stopped before he could follow Jungkook any farther, his gaze catching on the King’s expression, "You knew this would happen," Woojin said quietly to The King, “Master you knew, and you let it happen anyway."

The King did not deny it, "I saw many futures, Woojin," he said, "in all the ones where the North survives, this had to happen, the human girl had to be taken, and Jungkook needs to be in charge."

"And what if Jungkook fails?" Woojin whispered.

Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.

With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.

The prospect amused you more than it excited you.

“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”

Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.

For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.

You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.

He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.

A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.

Then he stepped forward.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.

The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.

Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.

The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.

As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.

Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.

A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.

The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.

You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.

Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.

The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”

“She does not.”

You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.

Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.

Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.

“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”

For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.

Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.

As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”

His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”

For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.

The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.

After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.

The knights were disappointed.

You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.

The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.

Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.

Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.

Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.

Sir Jeon Jungkook.

The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.

At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.

Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.

Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.

Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.

Your father rose slowly from his seat.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”

A murmur rippled through the court.

You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.

“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”

His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”

—

Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.

It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.

No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.

What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.

The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.

Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.

“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”

You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.

“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”

Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”

Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.

That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.

The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.

You knew he would follow.

The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.

“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”

You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.

A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.

“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”

Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”

You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.

“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”

You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.

Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.

Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.

“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”

“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”

You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.

You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.

You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.

“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.

It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.

You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.

Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”

You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.

But the gods had other plans.

Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.

“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.

Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.

The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.

You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.

And you forgot how to breathe.

Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.

Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.

Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.

“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.

Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.

Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.

He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.

You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.

You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.

Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.

Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.

“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”

The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.

“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”

You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.

“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”

He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.

You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.

“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”

Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”

You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.

A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.

“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”

You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.

“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.

“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”

His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.

“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.

“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”

Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.

“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”

A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”

The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.

Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.

“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”

You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.

“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”

“Your Highness, I—”

“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”

You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.

Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.

You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.

“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.

Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.

“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”

“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”

His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.

He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.

As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.

The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.

“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”

The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.

“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.

You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.

“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.

The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.

The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.

Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.

He had never tasted anything so addictive.

You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.

Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.

“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”

You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”

The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.

The pleasure hit you like a storm.

Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.

You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.

Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.

When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.

You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.

—

“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”

The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.

They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.

In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.

He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.

He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.

You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.

You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.

You began creating excuses just to be close to him.

You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.

Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.

One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.

Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.

“A gift?” you asked.

“If Your Highness would accept it.”

The answer surprised a smile from you.

He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.

When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.

You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”

His expression didn’t change.

“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”

Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.

The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.

In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.

Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.

They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.

The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.

The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.

—

The Coronation.

The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.

Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.

You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.

He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.

Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.

Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.

That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.

The moment the door closed, he was on you.

The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.

Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.

“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.

You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”

Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.

“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”

“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”

His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.

You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.

Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.

“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”

You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.

Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.

“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”

His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.

He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.

Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”

He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.

Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.

But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.

“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”

You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.

Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.

“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”

He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.

You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.

The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.

Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.

You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.

The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.

You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.

He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.

“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.

He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.

“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”

He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.

You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.

“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”

The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.

Your breath caught.

He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.

You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.

“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”

The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.

Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.

You did, heart hammering.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”

Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”

You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”

The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.

He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”

But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”

With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.

Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”

When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.

“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”

That was all it took.

Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.

He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.

“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”

He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.

You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.

First, he worshipped.

The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”

Then the worship turned into ruin.

He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.

You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.

“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”

By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.

He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.

All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.

When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.

Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”

You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.

The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.

The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.

It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.

You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.

Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.

“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”

Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”

You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.

Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”

You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.

“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”

You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.

“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”

For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.

Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”

Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”

“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”

You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.

Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.

You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.

“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”

Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”

Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.

“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”

You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.

If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.

The thought disturbed you deeply.

You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.

—

The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.

A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.

Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.

“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”

Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”

Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”

Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.

That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.

The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.

You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.

“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”

“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”

But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.

“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”

You stared at him, heart shattering.

“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”

Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.

“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”

Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.

“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”

Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.

But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.

“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.

Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.

“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”

You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.

You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.

“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.

But it wasn’t enough.

You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.

You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.

The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.

“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.

“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”

You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.

“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”

Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.

He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.

“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.

Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.

Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”

Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”

The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.

You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.

You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.

This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.

By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.

Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.

“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”

But it wasn’t.

Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.

The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.

Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.

“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”

Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.

Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”

Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.

Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”

You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.

“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”

Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.

Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”

“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”

You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.

“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”

Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”

You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.

Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”

—

The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.

Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.

Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.

The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.

You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.

In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”

You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.

Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.

The worry became unbearable.

One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.

When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.

“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”

She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.

You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.

“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”

Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”

She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.

“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”

You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.

After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.

“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.

“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”

You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.

Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”

The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.

The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.

One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”

The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”

You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”

He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.

And then the sickness took hold.

Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.

Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.

One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.

You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.

Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.

“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”

“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.

“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”

His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.

You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”

Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.

His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”

You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”

Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”

He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.

“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.

“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”

When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.

The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.

You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.

Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?

The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.

One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.

Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.

They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.

Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”

They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.

Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.

Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.

Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”

You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”

The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.

“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”

You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.

The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.

“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”

Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.

“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”

Silence crashed over the room.

The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.

“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”

“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”

The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”

You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”

“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”

Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”

The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.

The next weeks were a nightmare.

Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.

You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.

One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.

“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”

The world shattered.

You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.

You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.

Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.

Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.

The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.

You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.

The labor came on a stormy night.

The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.

He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.

Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.

Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.

She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.

“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”

You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.

Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”

Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.

When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.

He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.

“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”

It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.

In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.

You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.

“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”

Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”

You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.

The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.

Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.

You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.

One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.

You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.

“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”

The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”

You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.

When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.

Your arms were empty.

Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.

The baby was gone.

“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”

You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?

Then you saw him.

A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.

Your knees buckled.

It was Sir Jungkook.

He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.

You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”

Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.

“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”

Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.

“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”

You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.

“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.

“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”

The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.

Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.

You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.

The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.

“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”

You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.

“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”

The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.

Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.

“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.

You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.

You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.

Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.

Only then did you notice movement near the door.

Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.

Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”

He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”

You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.

“Come here,” you whispered.

He obeyed without hesitation.

You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.

New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.

Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.

You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.

“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”

He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.

“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”

You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”

Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.

“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”

You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.

A broken sob tore from his throat.

Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.

“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”

You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.

“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”

For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.

—

The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.

A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.

Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.

“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”

But you already knew.

A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.

Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.

It was the King.

Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.

“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”

You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.

“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”

The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.

“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”

“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”

The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.

The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”

You nodded once, relief flooding through you.

The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.

He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.

The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.

“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”

When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.

Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.

“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”

Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.

“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”

You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.

The knight continued, low and calm.

“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”

You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.

“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”

“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”

You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.

Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.

“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”

Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.

“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”

For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.

Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.

“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”

The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.

—

Three Months Later,

The palace had transformed around you.

After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.

You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.

Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.

The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.

Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.

It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.

“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.

Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”

You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.

The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.

He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.

Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.

At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.

He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.

Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.

“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”

She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”

Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”

Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”

The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.

Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.

He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.

She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.

Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.

“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.

“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”

Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.

The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.

“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”

Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.

You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.

Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.

Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.

You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.