Sol. Z✨

Y/N clutched her phone tighter in her hand. The edges of the device squished the soft flesh of her fingers as his words branded themselves into the depths of her mind's eye. 

She didn't understand him. She had known him for so long, and she still didn't understand the mechanics of his brain. Well …  perhaps, deep down, she did understand - she just couldn't bring herself to accept it. It could have been self destructive tendencies, it could have been fear - Y/N refused to accept such simple kindness existed in the world, even when it was all that he had ever shown her. 

Besides. She didn't even understand what they were. To the untrained eye, they appeared to be the closest of friends - and had been for years; but surely even the friends as tight knit as they were didn't care as much as he cared for her. Surely they didn't look at each other the way he did, with such a tenderness floating about the stars in his eyes that she refused to look into them for more than a second at a time, for fear that her bones would melt from the intensity of it, from the sheer emotion that spilled from those gloriously rich irises … 

Y/N had brushed his care away more times than she could count, from the day she had first met him, and every day since. And yet, for some reason he was still there. 

He was always there. Waiting. Reassuring her that she could always lean on him no matter what. It frustrated him sometimes - she knew that. She couldn't blame him for it either; Chris was always patient with her, always giving her the freedom to come to him when she wanted to, when she was ready. But even Y/N could see when he was fighting the urge to explode. She exasperated him beyond measure, the only telltale sign being the twitch of the muscle in his cheek, or the taut set of his jaw. 

That was exactly why Y/N didn't understand him. Why would he keep sticking beside her, when she so often drove him to the brink of madness? 

It was entirely possible that Chris was already insane. After all … no sane person would continue to care for another if they treated them the way she treated him. In Y/N's eyes, Chris deserved the entire universe and everything beyond it … and oh, how she ached to give it to him. If it wasn't for the fear of being hurt by him, she might have already done so. She couldn't bear being hurt by him, out of all people. She had been crushed by so many others in the past, been trampled on repeatedly as though she was but a patch of grass. The ache had turned into something else, and somewhere along the way she had started to feel indifferent about it. She had been forced to become independent, forced to rely on no one other than herself, to the point where the idea of letting someone else in after so many years felt completely impossible. The idea of it made her feel weak - she didn't need anyone else. Not when she was the one who had put herself together time and time again, when it was others who had broken her in the first place. 

But Chris … he was the one person who she felt something so deep for, that terror wracked every inch of her being when she imagined what might happen if he turned on her too. He was the one person who could truly shatter her, if he so wanted to, leaving the tiny pieces of her to float away with the wind as if she had never really existed at all. 

Y/N's phone buzzed against her hand again, and she looked down again, sniffling in the cold night air. 

Chris: Your location's off … where are you??? 

Chris: Just tell me where you are and I can come get you. It's freezing tonight. Don't want you getting sick. 

Y/N didn't respond. Snow had already begun to settle on her person in a sparse blanket of ivory, and she blinked away the flakes from her eyelashes. 

She rubbed the back of her hand across her lightly damp cheeks; her skin was so cold now that she could barely feel it. She longed for warmth, for a sweet drink to thaw the ice that was building up inside her. She knew that she would only find the solace she craved so deeply with him - she certainly wouldn't find it in the confinement of her own house. 

After another long moment of chewing on her chapped lip and staring into the abyss, even though everything in her screamed at her not to give in, not to let her walls down, Y/N found her feet working of their own accord as they began to carry her down the street and across the road.

Her heart had accepted where she was going long before her mind did. The familiarity of Chris's door appeared in front of her before she could process it; the windows of his home hosted a dim glow, and it was warm and comforting to her sore eyes. They prickled once more as she stood frozen in her spot, staring at the exterior of his home with her trembling breaths leaving her in shallow, cloudy puffs. It was completely quiet and dark in the street, the atmosphere enhancing the chill that was running down Y/N's back, and she wrapped her arms around herself, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she continued to drill her gaze into his front door. 

A short while later, a muffled jangle made Y/N's heart skip a beat. A hushed curse followed, and the door opened, revealing Chris on the door stop. His gaze immediately landed on Y/N and he paused, his eyes widening as he blinked at her. A dark jacket concealed his built frame, and a matching cap was pulled down over his unruly curls; he looked as though he had haphazardly slung them on over his sweatpants and t-shirt, and Y/N's eyes slowly trailed from his clothes to his face as she swallowed thickly. 

“I'm sorry … “ Y/N whispered, stepping back. “I … shouldn't have come. You're busy - “ 

Chris tutted in mild annoyance, the sound loud in the night. He folded his arms across his broad chest, narrowing his eyes at her. “I was coming to get you.” 

Y/N's brow creased. “But … you don't know where I was.”

“I don't care. I would have searched the whole city for you if I had to,” Chris responded firmly, his voice full of authority but also laced with the care he always showed her. His words softened then, the shadows that had darkened his eyes lightening. “Why didn't you tell me where you were? I told you I'd come get you.” 

Y/N avoided his stare. She looked down at her boots, trying to wiggle her frozen toes to no avail. “I … didn't want to disturb you.” 

With his dark eyes fixed on her, Chris stepped forward and reached out to gently curl his fingers around Y/N's wrist. The woman's breath hitched at the instant surge of heat that blossomed against her skin where his fingers rested, and she stared at the contact, not knowing what else to do. 

“Come inside,” Chris said, his tone low, smooth. He carefully tugged her towards him and pulled her into his house before shutting the door behind her, leaving the chill locked outside. “Go on … go sit in front of the fireplace. You're freezing, baby girl.” 

Slightly dizzy from the heady combination of the sudden warmth and the sweet muskiness of Chris's intoxicating scent that had welcomed her in a large embrace as soon as she set foot into his space, Y/N barely acknowledged her body shuffling into the front room. She stood in the middle of the room, her breath trembling as one of her hands clamped down around her arm, holding it against herself. Everything was suddenly too much; the immediate safety that came with seeing Chris and being in his neat living room rushed at her in an overwhelming crash of waves. She looked up a little; Chris had removed his jacket and shoes and was padding into the room, and his gaze landed on Y/N who was standing awkwardly in front of the fire

Something about the way Chris was looking at her made something inside of Y/N snap; her head  dropped, and the tiniest of whimpers escaped her mouth as she hastily pressed over her lips in hopes of suppressing the sound. Her shoulders started to shake violently, and eyes widening, Chris slowly moved towards her. The apex of the man's throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and his delicate hands fluttered like restless bird wings at his sides as he acknowledged the thick silence as Y/N cried. His heart lurched - Chris couldn't hold himself back anymore, he didn't want to; he reached out his arms gently, giving her enough time to move away if she wanted to. But when she didn't, Chris curled his hands around Y/N's shoulders and tugged her towards him in one smooth movement. Her forehead landed against the hollow of his throat, and his touch transitioned from light to possessive as she sank slowly into his embrace, the tears that had been spilling from her eyes now like twin waterfalls against his skin. 

“There we go … “ Chris whispered with a discreet exhale, his own eyes falling shut as he cupped his warm fingers around the back of Y/N's head. “Shh … it's okay baby. I'm right here.” 

His words made her cry harder; Y/N's sobs were muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt, yet they were so violent, so erratic, that the entirety of her body shook uncontrollably against his. Chris continued to stroke his fingers down the back of her hair, sweeping against the curve of her neck, his touch soft as her tears trickled down his skin and seeped into the neckline of his t-shirt. Chris initially thought her cries would subside soon; but when the sobs got worse, completely robbing her of her uneven breaths, Chris tightened his hold on her, tucking his fingers around her arms as his mouth pressed to the top of her head. 

He pulled away slightly when his lips brushed something cold. Chris's eyes softened, and he started to smile.

“Hey … there's snow in your hair,” Chris's voice was a low hum that vibrated through his chest, kissing the flushed skin of Y/N's cheek. It made her tilt her head up towards him, and her heart skipped a beat when her eyes landed on the tender smile brushing across Chris's face.

His fingers were gentle as they swept through the slightly damp strands of her hair. “Look,” he lowered his hand, the smallest of snowflakes glistening against his skin. It immediately disappeared with the warmth of his fingertip, and his face fell in dismay. “Oh. It melted.” 

He chuckled at the look on her face, and he tried to pick up another tiny snowflake. “You're so cold that they're staying frozen in your hair. My little Ice Queen.” 

Y/N's throat felt completely clogged from all of her crying. Her whisper was a broken one when she responded to him. “They're melting because you're so warm.”

Laughing under his breath, Chris brushed away the flecks of ice from her hair before sliding both of his arms around her waist, locking them in place before lifting a surprised Y/N off of the floor. He tucked her shivering frame into his secure hold as he carried her to the sofa, and with one of his hands rubbing soothing circles into her back, Chris sat down with Y/N rigidly curled up on his lap. 

He leaned back into the plush seat, guiding her with him. Y/N felt his hand cradling the side of her head as it fell against his chest; his touch was so, so gentle - almost as though he was afraid the pressure of his fingers would cause her to disintegrate in his arms if he wasn't careful. 

“It's okay, baby,” Chris hummed, his voice reverberating through his chest again in a comforting lull. “Lean into me … let me hold you, yeah?” 

Y/N's breath shuddered as a fresh wave of tears bloomed in the pits of her eyes. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than just that; but she didn't know how to lean into him. She didn't know how to give herself up to him, nor did she know just how to position herself … where to put her arms, or her head, or how to even allow her body to be held by him … 

With a pang, Y/N realised that she felt just as out of place as she felt at home with Chris. His touch was already making her feel dizzy and incredibly warm, each gentle press of his fingers against the small of her back threatening her walls to crumble completely.  

“What's the matter?” Chris asked her quietly, sensing her hesitation. “Am I uncomfy?” 

Y/N shook her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “I … just … “ 

Chris's eyes were soft. The tip of his index finger found its way to the underside of her chin and he gently tilted her face up to look at him. “Just what, pretty girl?” 

“I … don't know how,” Y/N whispered, her words tangling together. “I don't know what to … how to … where to put my … arms … and … “

Her words broke off, and even though Chris's heart constricted a little painfully at her words, he couldn't help but smile at her confession. His hand cupped her wet cheek gently, and he leaned forward, his lips brushing away her tear tracks. 

“Let me teach you then,” Chris whispered as he traced the backs of his knuckles across her flushed skin. “Do you trust me, baby?” 

Y/N's breath hitched. She nodded slightly, and she was met with the cushion of Chris's lips travelling to her temple. 

“Good girl,” Chris said, his hand sliding down to his arms. “Here … put your arms here … your head here … just like that.“ 

Chris's touch ignited a strong fire beneath Y/N's skin as he slowly adjusted the placement of her limbs. He draped her lightly trembling arms loose around his torso, and Y/N's head was next to be guided to the upper portion of his chest. Chris's fingers cradled the back of her neck with such fragility that her eyes blurred again. She turned her face of its own accord, clenching her eyes shut as her forehead sank into the exposed skin just beneath his collarbone. 

“Just like that,” Chris whispered again, gently hoisting her legs up against his thighs. His hand patted softly over her hip, his other fingers threading through her slightly damp hair. “Feeling okay? You're not cold, are you?” 

Y/N shook her head against the smooth grain of his skin. “You're … so warm.” 

Chris's lips curved up into an affectionate smile. He still turned his head a little to the side, and he reached for the weighted blanket draped over the back of his sofa. With nimble movements, Chris gently draped it over them both, the sudden enclosure only heightening the comfort that was seeping into Y/N's bones, and she shivered in response, her fingers curling into the sturdiness of Chris's sides. 

It was remarkable how quickly his touch affected her body; her eyes were drooping at an alarming rate, and the shard-like breaths that had been constantly stabbing the inner walls of her chest had miraculously disappeared. The cold that had earlier weaved its way through the webbing of her veins had ebbed away, and all that remained was the steady current of heat that radiated from Chris's body, permeating the flush of her skin. Just as she was overly aware of the world around her, Chris's presence was magnified, each subtle pat of his fingers against the curve of her head making her body loosen further, each brush of his lips against her temple making her breathing easier. 

“You have no idea how long I've waited for this … “ Chris breathed after a while. His words buzzed through her and she looked up at him slightly, her brows furrowed in question. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to hold you like this.” 

Y/N stared at him. She had wanted this for so very long, she had known that … but … him?

For the first time, Y/N wondered if perhaps her actions hadn't only stunted her chance at comfort, but the man before her too. 

“What … ?” Y/N exhaled shakily. 

Chris's hands tightened on her under the blanket, and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “Every time I saw you in pain … every time you pushed me away, acting all strong and like you didn't need anyone … it just made me want to pull you into my arms and not let go,” Chris’s voice cracked, and Y/N's stomach flipped. “But I couldn't, because I thought you'd hate me for it, and the idea of that … “ 

He shuddered then, pulling back slightly so he could rest his forehead against Y/N's. He was so close, closer than either of them had been before … Y/N didn't look away when he locked his gaze on hers, his pupils flooding his irises with starry black that glimmered with an ethereal light in the dim lighting between them. “I love you, Y/N. I can't keep pretending that it doesn't kill me … that every time you push me away feels like I've been stabbed, right here.” 

He reached for her hand, and he laid her fingers over the sturdiness of his chest. The beat against her skin was strong, rhythmic, and as Chris's hand lay atop hers, she could feel her own heartbeat changing to match his. 

“Let me love you, Y/N,” Chris's voice was quiet, so quiet that she'd have missed it if the wind outside had howled. His eyes fell shut, and his nose brushed hers, his lips barely half an inch from her mouth. “Let me take care of you. Let me make you happy … you deserve to be happy, baby.”

Whether it was his tears, or her own that she felt on her cheek, Y/N didn't know. Her eyes had fallen shut too as his words sank into her, like tiny little seeds burying themselves in the midst of her heart.  

“Chris … “ was all she could manage, and the fragility of his name one her tongue made Chris groan, his hands tightening on her waist.  

“I love you,” he repeated. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Tears, hot and fast, spilled down her chin. With a tremor to her fingers, Y/N slowly braced her fingertips at the side of the man's hot face, and she brushed them over his temple, tracing the constellations of moles dotting his cheekbones. There was so much she wanted to say to him … so much on her heart that she yearned to spill. But she couldn't - not right now. Something about the way he was looking at her made her mind go quiet, and for the first time, an unfamiliar bud of peace bloomed inside her.

“Will … will you still love me if I'm sick?” she blurted out before she could help herself. 

The delicate arch of his eyebrows curved upwards. 

“You know … you said you didn't want me getting sick … earlier … “ Y/N said. She could feel the back of her head tickling. “But … well … “ 

She couldn't hold it in any longer; turning her head to the side, Y/N let out a loud sneeze, her body jumping in Chris's lap. She sniffled before turning sheepishly to Chris again, and there was a brief pause before he burst into laughter. 

“Oh, baby … “ Chris leaned forward again and cupped her face in his hands. “Such an aggressive sneeze, and yet you're still the most adorable thing I've ever laid eyes on.”

Y/N blushed furiously. She looked away, but he brought her gaze back to him, his eyes dancing with mirth. 

“Yes, I'll still love you,” Chan chuckled, and he kissed her nose. “But … do you love me?” 

Her lips curved up at the corners. “Since a very, very long time ago.” 

Chris's eyes lit up. She could feel the heat swimming off his ears, rather than see it, and it made her smile. 

“I love you,” she whispered to him, her breath grazing his lips. “I've always loved you, Christopher.” 

He was about to respond when a familiar bubble rose up inside of Y/N; she erupted with another sneeze, and Chris's laughter danced around her as he scooped her into his arms, holding her so tight that Y/N vaguely wondered if perhaps her bones would snap.

She didn't really care. She didn't want to be out of his hold ever again. 

“You need a hot shower,” Chris grinned, threading his fingers through her slightly damp hair. “How about you go shower, and I'll make you some hot chocolate … and then we can watch a movie or something. How does that sound?” 

“Mmm … “ Y/N hummed in satisfaction as she dropped her face against the crook of his neck. “Are you going to cuddle me too?” 

Chan's laughter was a soft caress against her. “Baby … have you met me? What else do you think I'm gonna do?” 

Y/N started to giggle. 

“Get ready, baby girl … because I'm not letting go of you ever again. You're mine. All mine.” 

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“Oh Lord … the boy's down again.”

Hands in the pockets of his shorts, Chan stood at the edge of the sea, his gaze fixed on his friends in the distance. His shoulders shook with silent laughter as Minho slipped and crashed into the waves for the third time in the past two minutes. Felix was tugging at his friend with all of his might, trying to get him to stand again, but Minho looked as though he had given up, his face as blank as a sheet of paper. 

Shaking his head with fondness written all over his face, Chan inhaled deeply. The scent in the air was earthy, and saltier than usual, the sand beneath foot damp from the earlier storm that must have passed. The waves crashed and rolled into each other, spraying bits of sea foam at the man's knees, the cool waters caressing the skin of his ankles. Tall pine trees rustled along the promenade, and their delicate fragrance wafted towards Chan on the subtle breeze, the earthiness tickling his nose with an air of familiarity. 

He loved this beach. 

He loved it even more when his family were with him.  

They appeared to be some of the only people there, and the calm atmosphere filled Chan with such a deep sense of peace that he felt the very backs of his eyes prickle. He blinked a few times, grinning when Minho finally got up onto his feet amongst the waves. A roaring Changbin was so ecstatic that he threw himself at Minho, thus Minho toppling back into the sea again. 

“Oh Lee Know … “ Chan called out to his friend, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Lee Know! You alright in there? Wanna come back?” 

Minho responded by shaking his head and sticking a thumbs up into the air, a wicked grin crossing his face.  

It made Chan chuckle. Minho's mind worked in mysterious ways; perhaps he enjoyed falling into the waters. 

Turning his head, Chan frowned. Y/N wasn't beside him where she had been just moments ago, and he turned completely, the crease between his brows disappearing when he caught sight of her dress just a few metres away. A pale blue, Y/N's dress was light and airy like the sky above, and it brushed her ankles as she leaned down, her fingers rifling through the golden sand. She crouched down, and Chan smiled as he walked up to her, his heart leaping in his chest as he took in the endearing sight of concentration printed on her features. 

“Whatcha doing?” Chan hummed, his hand reaching out of its own accord to gently rest on top of her head. She looked up at his touch, and her eyes crinkled under the gradually setting sun as he started to card his fingers through her hair. 

“Hunting for shells,” Y/N said simply. Her eyes were wistful as she leaned her cheek against Chan's forearm, her fingers smoothing over the fine sand grains beneath her. “I haven't collected shells in … years. It used to be my favourite thing to do as a kid.” 

Chan's face softened. “Why'd you stop?” 

“We stopped going to the beach as much,” Y/N said in her soft voice. “And when we did go … I guess I was too depressed to enjoy anything. Didn't have the energy.” 

She had a tiny box beside her, and Chan's eyes twinkled when he saw the assortment of items inside it.

“Well, feel free to collect as many as you want … as long as it's not over ten kilos,” Chan teased her. 

Y/N tilted her head. “Why?”

“Restriction laws,” Chan shrugged. 

Smiling at that, Y/N pulled her box towards her. She shook it, the ten or so small shells jingling. “That's a shame. I’m sure these all weigh a kilo each.” 

Chuckling at her sarcasm, Chan watched as Y/N reached into the box and pulled out something circular to show him. 

“I found a sand dollar!” 

Chan's mouth parted in wonder as he took the sand dollar from her hand. It was almost completely smooth, four open notches spaced relatively evenly around the circumference of it, and one below the flower shape in the middle. Chan turned it over in his fingers, and it glistened as the deepening rays of sunshine bounced off of it. 

He looked up to say something, but she'd already moved; the man let out a small puff of laughter as he followed her closer to where the water was kissing the sand, and he watched as she picked up something else, an awe-filled gasp escaping her lips.

“Chris! Look!” 

Resting in her two hands was an enormous shell, painted in shades of cream, pink and peach. Its exterior was beautifully textured, the rocky lines and bumps a stark contrast from the smooth inside that boasted a rosy hue that faded into the soft ivory colour. It almost sparkled like finely milled glitter, and Chan's mouth dropped open as he made to stand in front of her.

“Oh woah … what the heck?” He traced a delicate finger over the ridge of the shell, his eyes beyond mesmerised. “A conch?”

“It's empty,” Y/N said, slowly turning it around in her hands and pointing to the small hole at the base of the shell's spiral. “And it's so heavy.” 

“Conches are really rare … especially on this beach,” Chan mused as he continued to trace the grooves. “I wonder where it came from?” 

Y/N looked down at it, her own heart fluttering at the sheer beauty of it. “Must have been washed up by the storm earlier.” 

“I think the sea wanted you to have it,” Chan grinned. “Like a … welcome home present?” 

At that, Y/N flitted her gaze up to him. She didn't quite know what to say - she didn't know how to explain the feeling that had erupted inside her chest upon hearing his words. 

“I don't think it weighs ten kilos,” Y/N joked softly instead. 

Chan grinned. “There's nothing against taking empty conches, either.” 

When she didn't speak again, Chan stepped a little closer to her. “You do know what conch shells signify, right?” 

She shook her head. 

“Love,” Chan said softly. 

Watching as Y/N gripped the conch tighter in her hands, Chan suddenly felt an overpowering wave of emotion rushing through him. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin shone beneath the sun, and the vibrant wash of colour that had begun to swim across the sky turned her dress from the colour of blue daisies to a charming coral, much like the shell in her fingers. And there was that sparkle in her eyes, the one that had grown bigger and bigger over the days they had been together. Reunited. At each other's side, like they should have been all along. 

Like the waves they stood beside, the realisation swept through Chan and infiltrated the intricate network of veins beneath his skin, warming his blood and sending one, very prominent thought to the forefront of his mind. 

There was no one else he would ever love the way he loved her. 

In the depth of his heart and soul, Chan knew she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He yearned to see her smile for the rest of their days, to protect that precious joy she had worked so hard to salvage despite the hell she had endured for so long. He wanted to love her, fiercely, with every inch of his being, so she would forget what it ever felt like to be anything but cherished and adored for who she was. 

He wanted to give her freedom, and to make her feel as though her heart could fly. 

Chan had always been one to plan every one of his movements. Every step he had taken in his life was one that was thoroughly thought out, and carefully planned in advice so could take complete control of the outcome.

But there was no control now. Now, there was pure spontaneity that ignited a raging flame in the depths of him. There was nothing else that mattered to him but the woman that he loved standing just inches away.

And he would not let her slip through his fingers because of fear. 

“Why are … why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N's voice was barely a whisper, and it brushed against him like the soft feather. “Chris ….?” 

Chan swallowed thickly. His blood sizzled and his heart jerked against the restraints of his ribcage, as if it wanted to rip through his chest and merge itself with hers. But his voice was calm when he spoke, and it was soft in a way that made Y/N go still. 

“I want to marry you,” Chan said. 

Y/N stared. It took all of her willpower to keep her trembling fingers from giving way and dropping the conch into the sand. 

“What … ?” she breathed. 

“I, want to, marry you,” Chan repeated, slower this time as his eyes fluttered shut. When he opened them again, they gleamed, and they reflected the tiny pinpricks of early stars scattered about the pink sky. “I … don't want to wait anymore. I spent years waiting, waiting to tell you how I really felt, because I was afraid. I was so afraid … afraid of things going wrong, of allowing myself to embrace what I was feeling. I thought maybe I didn't deserve to feel like this - that I'm not good enough for it, for us. But Y/N … I can't keep pretending anymore. I can't keep pretending that you're not the one that I want, that you're all I've wanted for such a long time. I can't keep pushing this away … I won't let my fear keep me away from you anymore. Because, Y/N, I don't want to be away from you anymore. I can't. I … can't. You have my heart, Y/N, and you always have.” 

Completely stunned, it was all Y/N could do to stop a trickle of tears from spilling into her shell. 

“I don't have a ring,” Chan continued, his breathing coming a little faster now. Neither him nor Y/N noticed how their friends had all stopped squabbling in the middle of the sea, their laughter quieted as their eyes locked onto them with anticipatory smiles. “I didn't plan on telling you this … not now, not like this. But standing here, watching you … I don't want to wait any longer. I don't want to waste our time dating when I know you're what I want. We can go on dates after we're married … but you're who I want. You're the only one for me, Y/N, and I know - I know you're who I'm supposed to be with. I love you, Y/N. To the stars and back, I love you.” 

When Y/N didn't reply, Chan's mouth began to move of its own accord. His words left him in a jumble, his cheeks and nose and ears the colour of the sunset. “I'll get you a ring. I promise I'll get you a ring. I'll … I'll go and get one right now. Or we can choose one together, if you want … whatever you want, I'll get you it. I'll get you the biggest diamond I can find if that's what it'll take for you to - “ 

“Christopher,” Y/N cut through his jumbled words, and Chan immediately paused. “Christopher … you idiot. I don't care about the ring.” 

Chan's breath hitched. 

“I don't care about having a ring,” Y/N whispered, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at him. “I love you too. I've loved you from the minute I laid eyes on you, I just didn't know it then. I don't care about dating either … Christopher, you're all I've ever wanted. I want to marry you too - I don't want a ring, I want you. I want all of you, Chris … I want to be yours.” 

“You are mine,” Chan breathed, a tear spilling down his jaw. “You'll always be mine.” 

A watery smile breaking through her tears, Y/N wiped her hand over the back of her cheeks. “You … are you really being serious? It's not a joke, right?” 

Chan's face broke into a grin of his own. A flicker of mischief crossed the love in his starstruck eyes, and with a soft laugh to himself, Chan slowly knelt in front of her with one knee in the sand. 

His lower lip caught between his teeth as he gently took the conch shell from Y/N's hands. Cupping it in his own, Chan stretched it out towards her. 

“Y/N,” Chan's voice wobbled a little, both heartfelt tears and humour coating his words. “Will you marry me?” 

A broken giggle left Y/N as she stared at the shell. Her gaze settled on Chan's face, at the way the darkening sky was making his freckles look like stars, how the freeze was making his hair dance across his forehead. And his eyes … his beautiful, warm eyes, holding so much love in them - for her. 

“On one condition,” Y/N gulped. 

Chan bit his lip hard. “ … What?” 

“You're not going to make me wear that shell as a ring, are you? I mean … it might break my finger.” 

Eyes wide, Chan suddenly burst into laughter, the light sound tangling with the crash of the waves in the form of a unique song. 

“No, Y/N … I'm not gonna make you wear it as a ring.” 

Her eyes filled with delight, Y/N grinned. “Then yes. Yes, I'll marry you.” 

Exhaling in relief, Chan set the conch down onto the sand before standing to his feet. His fingers shook as he cupped Y/N's warm face instead, and his thumbs caressed away the sparkling tear tracks from her skin. 

“So … does this mean we're engaged?” Chan asked in a low voice, feeling giddy. “I mean … I've never done this before.” 

Snorting with laughter, Y/N looped her arms around his neck, and she sank her fingers into the soft curls of his hair. “Looks like we're both in this together then. I've never done this before either.” 

The both of them choking over their own laughter, Chan couldn't help himself when he leaned closer, his nose brushing against hers. Their smiles melted into each other's as the softest of caresses from Chan's lips met Y/N's, sending a jolt of extraordinary warmth through them both.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She could feel another tear dripping down her chin as Chan enveloped her lips with his own, and his eyelashes were wet when they met her skin. 

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Y/N murmured, when Chan pulled away a little, his eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against hers. She lay a tentative hand over his chest, the heavy drum there making her eyes flick up to his in surprise. 

Chan groaned, his own hand going to lay over hers. “Yeah. That was the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever done.” 

Y/N's lips quirked upwards. “Really?” 

“You're the most important thing in my life, baby girl,” Chan whispered. “Didn't wanna fuck it up.” 

Y/N was about to reply when suddenly Chan was pummeled to the ground; Felix was screaming something in his ear and the older man laughed, face down in the sand as Y/N’s giggles filled the air. 

*☆*☆*

“Damn. Out of everyone here, I didn't think Chris would be the one to propose without a ring,” Jeongin said dryly.

“Broke boy,” Seungmin drawled from near him. “All bark and no bite.”

Chan sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time in the past hour. His lips were curved up into a permanent smile, however, and he locked eyes with Y/N over the lick of flames in the middle of them all. 

The sun had long set, dipping beyond the sea’s horizon in a burst of vivid colours much like the roaring fire they were all gathered around. Now, the sky was a clear spill of royal blue ink, whirls of indigo and violet peppering the night sky and broken up by the shimmering of stars. The sea continued to spill up against the sand in flashes of gold, reflecting the city lights behind them all. 

Accompanied by Jisung and Changbin, Chan had earlier gone into the shops and returned with bags of various snacks and food for them all. With an abundance of sticks, the group were now in the middle of toasting marshmallows, the sweet, smokey scent wafting around them in warm caresses. 

“For the last time, Kim Seungmin, I didn't do it on purpose,” Chan said, pointing his marshmallow ended stick towards him. “It wasn't planned.” 

“He hadn't planned on marrying me,” Y/N joked, making the group burst into laughter. 

“Hey. That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan was indignant. 

Y/N winked at him. She was rewarded with the darkening of Chan's ears as he looked down at his marshmallow, his cheek dimpling. 

“What’s up with the shell though?” Jisung asked, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the conch at Y/N's side. “I swear you raised that thing in the sky like … Simba.” 

Y/N choked on her marshmallow. Felix thumped her on the back, and Chan glared at Jisung. 

“Maybe it's a new trend,” Changbin smirked. “Propose with a shell.” 

“I found the conch,” Y/N giggled. “And he didn't have a ring so he used it as a joke.” 

“See, it sounds like a good idea when you say it,” Minho chimed in. “But when he does it, it feels cringey.” 

Chan muttered something unsavoury under his breath, his eyes twinkling. 

“How does it feel to be engaged?” Felix asked Y/N, his eyes crinkling. “About time. You both took ages. It only feels like yesterday when you were crying to me about how you wanted to - “

“Right, yes, thank you Lee Yongbok for that contribution,” Y/N cleared her throat pointedly in his direction, just as Chan tipped his head curiously at her. She gulped, her cheeks flushing. “One more word from you and I'm gonna make you go ghost hunting with me.” 

Felix clamped his mouth shut. His eyes still spoke of humour, and he skewered another marshmallow onto his stick. 

“Well?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “You didn't answer the question.”

At that, Y/N grew quiet as she considered her answer. 

Her gaze was slow as it swivelled over the group, their friendly faces glowing with the firelight. She landed on Chan last, and he was already looking at her, his eyes intense and full of silent words as he studied her face. She felt that familiar stretch of warm bloom inside of her as she continued to watch him, and she wasn't surprised when she felt the backs of her eyes sting with pressure. 

Years. It had taken her years to get to this point. To a point where she no longer felt that impending sense of doom lurking and waiting for her around every corner, and every bend. Blood relatives had never felt like anything to her other than just that - blood. She had known from as early as she could think that she didn't belong where she was raised. She didn't belong with the people who didn't understand her, who didn't value her the way she should have. And it had taken her such a long time to realise that it wasn't due to any fault of her own. She was never at fault for simply existing. She deserved to be loved, and she knew that wasn't something she would find being confined to the roots of what had broken her in the first place. 

But she found that love in herself. And in the process, it had led her to the person she had been searching for in her heart of hearts before she had even realised what it was she was looking for. 

She blinked at Chan, his own lips soft with a smile as if he could read her thoughts. This was a family. This was … her family. 

And she knew then, what it felt like. What she had felt when she looked into Chan's eyes for the first time. 

“Home,” Y/N whispered. “It feels like home.” 

Masterlist

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“Honorable Jaein.”

The six men seated around the circular table stood up and bowed their heads in unison as their main counsel walked into the chamber with swift steps. The room was eerily silent except for the crackle of the fire, clearly not enough of a heat source for Jaein since her hands were still stone cold.

They had been ever since His Grace fell ill.

“Our Lord’s malady continues to deteriorate,” she clasped her hands on the table, “None of the healers you brought in seems to know what they are doing.”

“With all due respect, my lady, we have discussed this matter,” Councilor Song spoke with makeshift confidence, “All healers are unanimous in their diagnoses.”

“Which is?”

“Our Lord unfortunately has that… harlot disease,” he responded in an extremely hushed whisper, fully aware of how terribly he was blaspheming, “It is incurable.”

“He does NOT!” 

She slammed her hands on the table so hard that all the councilors flinched as the entire room shook with her minuscule earthquake. The men looked at each other to decide who was going to be the one to address the elephant in the room.

“My lady, healers are saying he doesn’t have much time,” Councilor Jeon volunteered himself to be the target of the arrows residing under Jaein’s tongue, “We shall find a way to break the news to the overlords.”

“Does your simple mind not comprehend how vulnerable our revered state is right now?” she spat with utter disdain, “If word travels that Our Lord is unwell, they will revolt in the blink of an eye to rise to power!”

“His Excellency does not have an heir, my lady. They will learn soon enough. How long do you think we can keep this a secret?”

As long as it takes, Jaein answered to herself inside.

Secrecy was the singular principle governing these lands. Everything happened behind closed doors. It had to. That was how this nation survived for centuries and how it had a chance of survival for at least another century more. With zero tolerance for the slightest acts of disloyalty. They didn’t flaunt their rulers like any of their neighbors did because this was the only way to ensure the Daesan could stay incognito when he patrolled the streets to check his subjects’ pulse. Even in the palace, no one outside the Council was considered worthy of His Majesty’s sight. The public was never made aware of any births contributing to the expansion of the royal family, nor any deaths that weren’t directly related to the throne because it was nobody’s fucking business. There had to be some sanctity to it all, and everybody had to know their place. 

Period.

“Except for you lot, no soul knows Our Lord has not sired an heir,” Jaein mumbled to herself with her eyes fixated on her twiddling thumbs, “I shall pay a visit to him for a consultation. Dismissed.”

The men rose to their feet in respect as their main counsel walked out as quickly as she arrived, having no clue as to how to salvage the future of the nation they dedicated their entire lives to. As did many, many of their ancestors.

No matter how many times she had been to the bedchambers of His Highness, every time she saw him, Jaein was still shaken to her core like it was the very first time. A man once as glorious as the highest mountains, simultaneously instilling terror and awe in everyone lucky enough to catch a mere glimpse of him, was now diminished to this lump unable to even lift a finger by himself. He could be entirely made of thorns for all she cared. No amount of sores covering his skin could move him an inch from the pedestal of her heart.

He was still the most beautiful thing to ever walk this earth in Jaein’s eyes.

“My lord,” she approached the bed with her head bowed, “How are you feeling today?”

“As if you crushed glass in my tasteless meal,” he responded in a wheezy voice, “Do not ask questions you know the answers to.”

“My most profound apologies,” her bow instantly switched to a more acute angle.

“If there is no urgent matter—”

“The Inner Council is concerned about the survival of our state with the lack of heirs, my lord,” she quickly intercepted, “I did produce an idea, but it is most unorthodox.”

“Do I have a son I do not know of?” he let out a derisive chuckle embellished with throaty coughs.

She wished. From the bottom of her soul, she wished she could be blessed enough to bestow a son upon the throne. She would give everything to lay with the sole owner of her heart, but if she did, she would probably die within the week, and the nation would fall the following month in her absence.

Matters of the state came much before the matters of the heart. She had sworn her blood to this land.

“My lord, as you also know, there is… there is her.”

“Stop spewing nonsense,” he immediately protested as hard as his condition allowed, “In what universe can a woman occupy the throne?!”

“She shall not,” she continued with her persuasion with a drop of hope in her eyes, “She is still your blood, my lord. She can continue your lineage. If she conceives a boy, he would have the right to the throne.”

“And who do you suggest should rule in the interim?” he raised his brows quasi-questioningly, “No one who isn’t a Changwon Hwang has occupied this throne and no one is about to start now. NO ONE!”

“Please do not exert effort, I beg you!” 

She threw herself at the edge of his futon, holding his hand tightly as if to pray to a deity because as far as Jaein was concerned His Grace was one. The only god she worshipped. And no matter their irreconcilable differences, he was always going to have a soft spot for her.

And she knew.

“You are the strongest woman I know, Jaein, and much more of a man than everyone in this palace combined,” he uttered with heavily veiled affection as she quietly sobbed, “You have never disappointed me, and I know you never will as long as you are alive and well.”

“Precisely, my lord.”

“Here is my final will to you,” he closed his eyes to gather a bit more strength just to utter mere sentences, “You are to protect this state no matter what. You are to ensure our survival. No one but the honorable Hwang clan is worthy of this throne. No one but us.”

“Certainly, my lord.”

“Whatever it takes, Jaein,” his voice started to dim as if he was out of breath after running for hours on end, “You are to… wh–whatever… it takes…”

“My lord?”

She wasn’t used to him being so quiet; she was only used to him roaring like the proud tiger he was, but he didn’t even seem to be breathing anymore. A surge of panic rushed through her body like astray currents of thunder were striking her one after another, penetrating her denial to believe what she was witnessing at all costs.

“MY LORD!!!”

The chamberlains rushed into the room as Jaein’s wails reverberated throughout the entire palace. The healers surrounded the futon, doing everything in their power to find a pulse, but even minutes later it was apparent their endeavors would yield no result. Watching everything by the door, Jaein suddenly lost all sense of reality. If he wasn’t in it, she didn’t want to be a part of it, either.

A loyal subject does not serve two kings.

A loyal woman does not serve two husbands.

The mountain she leaned on, the only man she had ever lived for was gone.

“My lady, please come to your senses,” Councilor Kim urged her to snap out of it, “The state needs you more than it ever did!”

“Do not… talk to me… until Friday morning. Or I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

One day. Jaein allowed herself twenty-four hours to forget everything and bask in the freezing warmth of grief. Cry. Mourn. Sob. Lament. Torture herself with all her memories with the Great Daesan.

Twenty-four hours later, she emerged from her chamber as if nothing had happened at all, the last remaining flicker of light in her eyes completely vanished. She called a council meeting at an ungodly hour for the matters of the state were too dire to wait until the morning.

Everyone at the table agreed on one thing—if the overlords got wind of His Majesty’s death, the throne would definitely fall without the need for a riot since there was no legitimate heir they could present. They would either have to willingly hand over power or face the war on the horizon. 

There was no way Jaein would let that happen. Not on her watch.

“Harvest Day is approaching,” Councilor Lee spoke with urgency in his voice, “We will not be able to hide this much longer. The overlords will be visiting the state to pay their respects.”

“SILENCE!”

Jaein had been thinking about this at the back of her mind ever since the moment His Grace entrusted the pulse of this nation to her care. She would rather die than disappoint him, in death or in health.

“If any of these wretched men dare to question,” she directly addressed the councilor, “You shall tell them our crown Daesan is preparing to take over the throne as his honorable father is simply unwell.”

“Crown Daesan?” the councilor contorted his face, “Honorable Jaein, His Grace does not have a—”

She pounced at the man when he least expected it and pressed the tip of her dagger on his cheek.

“If you say he does not have an heir one more time, I shall send you to spend an eternity with Our Lord. You are to do… as I… say,” she quietly snarled at him, “No one will hear of Our Lord’s passing until I settle the matters.”

It was late into the night as Jaein marched towards the swordsmen’s quarters. She needed to borrow a couple of the palace’s finest for a very personal mission, and it was imperative that she had men in her command ready to kill with a single word coming out of her mouth.

Just in case.

Once the commander lined up five of his most skilled men, she examined each and every one of them to spot a granular weakness that could jeopardize this little expedition. Only when she was fully convinced of their capabilities did she give them their first order.

“Put on your armor,” she addressed the men as she headed towards the door, “We are leaving.”

“At dawn, Honorable Jaein?”

“NOW!”

As the men dispersed to change into assault attire, Jaein headed to her chambers to put on some clothes fit for travel. It had been quite a long while since she visited that village. She wasn’t even sure if it stayed the same, or if her people of interest even lived there. It was just a hunch, but even if her hunch was wrong, she was adamant to emerge victorious from this hunt. One way or another. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures. Or a drowning man would clutch at a straw.

Whichever you wish to call it.

“I would like a jar of honey, please.”

The boy behind the counter lit up at your sight. Every time his cheekbones raised like that, you melted inside a little bit. All he had to do was pick up one of the jars neatly stacked on the shelf behind him, but he sure was taking his sweet time to execute one simple motion. 

Because once your order was fulfilled, you were going to leave, and he would like to gaze at your beauty for a couple of more seconds if he was allowed to. 

And maybe you didn’t mind it at all since you were busy staring at his pretty hands as he carefully wrapped the jar in layers of paper as a protective measure.

“I think there has been a mistake,” you looked up at him when you noticed something extra resting on top of the lid, “I didn’t ask for candy.”

“It’s–It’s not… because you asked,” he couldn’t look you in the eye as he explained, “Father made a new batch of chocolates with coconuts. I–I wanted you to try it.”

“But coconuts are very expensive!” your eyes grew big in shock, “I can’t tak—”

“Happy birthday.”

He… remembered. He actually remembered.

You had only mentioned it in the passing when you were trying to find out what his birthday was. Winter was approaching, and it was going to be very suspicious to gift him the gloves you knit for him out of nowhere. This was supposed to be your foolproof excuse unless he was born in the spring.

Your heart thumped so hard in your chest, you almost swooned.

“Thank you,” you bashfully smiled while staring at your feet, “I… I humbly accept.”

“Will you—?”

You stopped in your tracks when he urgently called out after you. When you looked into his eyes again, he temporarily forgot his words but was at least quick to recover.

“Will you come tomorrow, too? We will hand out lemonade for the neighborhood.”

You quietly nodded at him and watched his beautiful face bloom with yet another heart-melting smile.

On the way home, you headed to the bridge to visit the fortuneteller uncle just to play with his bunnies; you weren’t going to risk ruining your day by drawing a bad fortune charm with your rotten luck. Your short encounter with Minho at the shop was all the good fortune you needed anyway.

“Let us draw one!”

As you were feeding Cotton and Snowball the leaves of lettuce you brought for them, two of those artist ladies showed up by the stand. They looked so elegant in their silk attire, flawless even without their nighttime makeup on, their poise so magnificent you couldn’t help but feel awestruck, inadvertently giggling to yourself. You didn’t know these women at all, but you might as well have with how much you were able to deduce about them simply from an accessory they wore.

A comb.

These weren’t ordinary ornaments; they were purity combs, only custom-made, thus quite expensive to own. The base was gold and there were more than a handful of emeralds on them, so they were clearly well-off. You knew they were teahouse artists because the shape was a dragonfly instead of the signature butterfly, which meant instead of their husbands during the wedding night, the combs were to be removed by whoever paid the highest sum for their virginities.

In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t mean anything that grand. Maybe the intentions were pure at first to create something beautiful as an ode to femininity and becoming a woman, but in time they had somehow turned into subtle public announcements that you were ripe to be defiled. So much so that some families simply would not take a bride that didn’t own a comb. You didn’t pay any mind to it for the longest time, but somewhere along the line, the meaning of a purity comb drastically changed for you. It became synonymous with happiness.

The day you realized you secretly wanted one was the day you faced how much you were in love with Minho.

You never held onto much hope for how costly it was to have one made, but you didn’t even need a fancy one like the town girls had, dipped in 24k gold and diamonds, heavy enough to get their buns lopsided. Heck, just a simple brass one would do. Wasn’t the color of an amethyst much prettier than a diamond anyway?

Nevertheless, the reality was reality. You kept daydreaming about it instead. You imagined putting on your comb before heading to the Lees’ shop. You imagined how Minho would react when he saw it. Maybe he would say something heart-fluttering again. Maybe he would take your hand and spin you around once. Maybe he would ask for your hand in marriage on the spot.

Just thinking about it was making you kick your feet.

“Would the young lady here kindly bestow her youthful luck on us?” the one in the pastel green kimono softly asked.

“If my lady pardons me,” you bowed your head in apology, “My luck is nonexistent.”

“I insist,” she gently touched your arm, then placed two rons on the stand.

You looked at the fortuneteller uncle, and he quickly nodded at you with a fatherly smile. You took the deepest breath of your life and held Cotton between your hands, repeatedly whispering to yourself ‘Please don’t fail me’ as you brought her closer to the large box where the charms were. Once she picked one with her tiny teeth, you handed the red envelope to the lady and held your breath until she made a sound.

“Great fortune!” she gracefully laughed as she showed the charm to her friend, then slightly bowed her head to you in gratitude, “This is why I insisted. Thank you very much for indulging me.”

You stared at her, all flabbergasted. Fortune? Coming from your hands?

There must have been something in the air that day.

“Good job, Cotton!” you squished the bunny as they left and gave her another leaf of lettuce for her hard work.

You were starving by then, so you took the shortcut home to preserve energy to help your mother prepare dinner, but when you made it home, you were greeted with an unexpected sight. All your favorites were already laid out on the wooden floor table, making your heart swell five times its size.

“Mother, I’m home!” you took off your shoes and sniffed the air as you walked towards the kitchen, “What is this smell?” 

“I hear a little butterfly was born today,” she poked her head out of the kitchen with a big smile, “I am almost done here.”

“There was honey at home?!” you shrieked once you noticed she was making rice pudding, “Then why did you send me to buy some?”

“I don’t know. Thought you might want to visit that handsome friend of yours today,” she nonchalantly spoke while stirring the pot, immediately flustering you to death, “And in my defense, we were running low.”

“I’ll–I’ll go… wash my… my hands…” you trailed off as you dashed out of the kitchen.

It was an unspoken competition between you at this point. One of you would go all out on the other’s birthday, preparing a table so rich even the Daesan would be jealous. Of course it was always followed by the pleasant heaviness of a food coma, but this year, there was a little addition to the table. Once the meal was over, instead of clearing the table, your mother brought a pitcher, two small cups, and a wooden box. She filled the cups with some milky-looking drink that had a slight viscosity to it and raised hers in the air.

“Enjoy this moment, my beautiful butterfly,” she spoke through her teary smile, each word loaded with infinite amounts of compassion, “You are a woman today.”

You bowed your head in respect and clinked your cup against hers, trying to get a hold of your own tears in the meantime. The rice wine did a fantastic job diverting your attention to your burning throat, barely allowing you an escape from what would otherwise be an emotional breakdown.

“And this,” she pushed the wooden box in your direction, “is for you.”

“There is a present?” you threw a terribly unconvincing composure over your giddiness.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe there is,” she feigned unawareness, “Maybe it is something we can put in your hair.”

No.

It couldn’t be true.

But when you opened the box, it was indeed staring at you.

A comb.

The base might not have been gold, but it sure as hell wasn’t brass either. It was silver, a little darkened, but it didn’t take away anything from its beauty. If anything, it complemented the rubies on it perfectly. 

“Mother, this is… This must have cost a fortune, why did you—?”

“Calm yourself. I have not bankrupted us,” she looked at the delicate piece of accessory fondly, shadows of nostalgia passing through her eyes, “This used to be mine.”

Unable to contain your happiness, you jumped at her with a big hug, making her break into loud peals of laughter. She kept caressing your hair and gave you a big kiss on your forehead once you managed to detach yourself.

“Put this on the next time you go to the market,” she knowingly smiled and booped your nose, “I’ll go bring the dessert.”

The moment she rose to her feet, however, an uneasy feeling spread in her chest. She heard horses neighing outside in the courtyard, certainly a strange occurrence for their quiet neighborhood, but one look out the window, and she witnessed the reason for her sudden restlessness staring back at her.

Her blood froze.

“In you go,” she urged in panic, “Hide.”

“Mother, what is g—?”

“Do not come out of the room!”

She calmed her stuttering breathing first, then wrapped herself in her shawl and walked out to the courtyard. The maniacal eyes she had seen a lifetime ago were looking right into hers again like it was yesterday.

Even crazier this time.

“Greetings!” the woman started with the cheeriness of a drunk man and ended with the sinisterness of a ruthless murderer, “Sister.”

“What do you want?” Jaebom curtly asked, barely able to control her chattering teeth courtesy of her looming rage.

“So… much… hostility,” Jaein dragged each word and disapprovingly tsked, “Our differences will have to wait. I am here on state business.”

“What business could you possibly have with me?”

“You have a little something of mine,” Jaein tilted her head with the smile of a raging lunatic, “I’d like it back.”

Jaebom’s eyes widened, partly due to fear, partly due to her motherly instincts pushing her to the very brink of committing cold-blooded murder. There was simply no way on earth she heard this correctly.

“You promised not to show your face here ever again afte—”

“I know,” Jaein calmly interrupted, “but that was then.”

You tiptoed out of the room you were firmly instructed to not leave and crouched under the window to see what the hell was going on outside. A strange woman in flashy clothes was talking to your mother, and there were five men behind her in full warrior attire with masks and everything. They had arrived with a really fancy carriage, gold and black in color with ornate patterns on it.

Wait, was that actually gold?

“I gave you a helping hand when you were courting death. Everybody was going to learn you were unchaste out of marriage. God knows they would form a line to be the one to stone you with how many enemies you have made,” Jaebom started raising her voice, “You brought it on yourself when you couldn’t refrain from spreading your legs for that debauched man you call Daesan…”

“Do not speak ill of him.”

“Who is rumored to not even like women…”

“I said do not s—”

“And now you barge into my home to take her away from me?!!” she was properly screaming by then, “She is my daughter. She has been all these years. Just because you gave birth to her does not change the facts!”

Your heart fell from your chest.

What… What did she even mean by Just because you gave birth…? That was a slip of the tongue. It most certainly was. There was a reason it had always been the two of you. Your father had died in the war when you were little.

Not because some other woman gave birth to you and dumped you here!!!

“You just took care of something I asked you to hold onto for me. It’s still mine,” Jaein tried to keep her poise, losing patience by the minute, “Do not make a big deal out of this.”

“Big deal? This is my life you are asking me to give up!”

Jaein took a deep breath, incredibly annoyed like she was watching a kid throwing a tantrum just because her mother wouldn’t buy her a candy apple.

“This is bigger than you. It always has been. I do not expect your simple mind to understand state matters,” she jeered, “But if you do not willingly hand it over, then I will have to take it myself.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Get rid of her.”

SLASH!

She didn’t even flinch watching her younger sister fall to her knees and hit the ground, eyes still open and painting the soil around her crimson. Then she turned around as if she just squashed an annoying mosquito disturbing her sleep and ordered her men.

“Find her.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to hide. You wanted to run outside and kill this woman while vomiting an entire town’s worth of hatred on her face, but you went completely rigid, eyes as wide as the full moon, unable to make a single sound. The five masked men barging in did not even have to exert any effort whatsoever as you were petrified with terror by the window, dragging you out of the house with complete ease like you were a mere leaf.

“Careful! That’s your Crown Daesan you are handling,” Jaein urged while watching you getting shoved into the carriage.

She turned around to look at the small wooden house one last time as if the dead body of her sister drowning in her own blood wasn’t lying in the courtyard.

“I always thought these little boxes were eyesores,” she contorted her face in utter displeasure, “Burn it.”

The men grabbed the torches they brought and set the place on fire, then promptly got on their horses and led the way for the carriage. Jaein didn’t care. She did what she had to do as her duty to this great nation. To the Great Daesan.

To her god.

You were rendered completely mute, blankly staring at your feet. When the blazes roared to your right like one last farewell, you slowly turned your head to watch your entire childhood getting cremated through the tears that clung to your eyelashes, the knot of the grief you couldn’t process growing much bigger in your throat.

Today, you were forced to become a woman.

Great fortune. What fortune? If you knew they were asking you to give up whatever shred of youthful luck you didn’t know you possessed to avoid this fate, you would have strangled those women at the bridge with your bare hands.

As the carriage moved further away, the comb you couldn’t even wear once for Minho slowly turned into charcoal in the debris of the house.

“Soyeon. Soyeon!” 

Loud whispers were heard under the window in between the sounds of small stones hitting glass. When the window finally opened, a beautiful girl emerged.

“Chan?” she immediately broke into a smile when she saw the two brothers below, speaking equally quietly, “What are you doing here at this hour?!”

“It’s just nine o’clock,” his eyes turned into crescent moons the second he laid eyes on her, “Come down. I have a surprise for you.”

“Father would kill me!”

“Come down!”

That was unfortunately a problem Soyeon had. She didn’t have much of a backbone when this man asked something of her while flashing those dimples to absolutely die for.

“What are you after this time, you rascals?” she approached while wrapping herself in her shawl, still communicating without a sound as the brothers annoyingly grinned at her.

“What? Is it a crime if I want to see my princess?” he stole a kiss from her cheek.

“Cut it out! Someone will see,” she punched his arm with a shy smile, not really because she was scared to be caught, but rather because she would combust on the spot otherwise.

“Come with me,” he began to walk towards the square.

They strolled for a while without a word, just occasionally stealing glimpses from each other and smiling, with San following them about ten steps behind. Soyeon didn’t know where they were going, but she didn’t even mind. After all, she was with the only two men she trusted with her life, even more than her tyrant of a father and brothers.

“I dream of this sometimes, you know,” Chan finally broke the silence.

“Of what?”

“This,” he lovingly looked into her eyes, “You make your delicious stew for dinner, we have a hearty meal, then I put you in my arm and flaunt my wife during an evening stroll.”

“Stop saying things like that!” she hit his arm again, biting inside her cheeks to stop herself from smiling so big as he was having a giggle fit.

Once they reached the familiar ornate fountain, he loudly cleared his throat to signal something to his brother. San nodded and turned around to keep a nonchalant post as Chan took Soyeon’s hand and led her somewhere about ten meters away.

“Do you remember this tree?”

Of course she did. This was the park where they first saw each other, right in front of this centuries-old oak. He even carved their initials on it saying his love for her would only cease to exist when this oak shriveled.

“Will you be mine until the oak tree dies, Yeon?” he flashed her a very modest silver ring.

Hearing the question she had been waiting for a lifetime, Soyeon’s heart skipped so many beats that she was sure she was going to die right at that very spot. She couldn’t utter the singular word she was screaming inside, so her response came in the form of a very tight hug instead. Chan knew he wasn’t supposed to act on impulse, not when it came to Soyeon, but when he held her face in his hands, he just… couldn’t resist it anymore.

He pressed his lips on hers for the very first time.

Oh, it was exactly as he had always been dreaming of. Like kissing a pair of clouds. Inhaling her jasmine scent as he moved deeper into her mouth, dangerous thoughts manifesting in his mind as her hands found each other behind his nape, and—

“Brother!”

The moment was suddenly shattered by San’s slightly panic-stricken voice.

A group of five men were approaching with leisurely steps. Both boys knew who they were thanks to their beloved mother. Every time she was desperate to fill her pipe again, similarly dressed ones would appear in their house to do unspeakable things to her. As they grew older and more violent, the visits became a lot more sparse to eventually come to a full stop. Even if they happened, it most certainly happened without their knowledge. Maybe their mother did not want murderers for sons.

They didn’t want an opium-addicted woman for a mother either, but it is what it is sometimes.

“San, take Soyeon home.”

Before they could even take three steps, they were blocked by five other men approaching from the opposite direction. Soyeon held onto San’s arm as they were all surrounded.

“Are you that fiend whore’s eldest son?” the one that looked like their leader directly addressed Chan.

“Who are you?”

“Tsk, wrong answer,” he approached even closer, “We are here to collect payment.”

“What payment? We don’t have any money.”

“You don’t have to have it, pretty boy,” he grinned to show his yellow teeth, “You are the money.”

They took one more step, and the two boys lunged at the men to absolutely no avail. Chan was getting beaten down to a pulp as San was already subdued in a headlock, the handle of a sword pressing hard against his throat. When he deemed the beating enough, the leader approached the older brother with extremely entertained chuckles.

“Were the theatrics really necessary?” he nudged his bruise-covered face with the tip of his shoe, then crouched to turn his head in San’s direction, “Now we’re gonna have to teach you a lesson you will never forget, brat.”

“Get away from h—!”

SLASH!

Soyeon’s screams pierced the night sky as San’s lifeless body dropped to the floor. They weren’t alone by any means; there were passersby around letting out terrified gasps, yet not one of them was doing anything, either scurrying away or watching the whole thing go down from shadows like it was a private performance. When two men forced Soyeon to stand up, her fear turned into absolute horror, making her wails suddenly stop.

“You either come with us,” the leader held a lock of Soyeon’s hair like it was delicate silk and deeply inhaled her scent, “Or I make sure Snow White becomes Blood Red.”

“DON’T TOUCH HER!!! I’LL DO WHAT YOU WANT JUST LET HER GO!!!”

“That’s more like it,” he broke into a satisfied smile and addressed his men, “Take him.”

They dropped Soyeon’s body limp with dread on the ground and pushed him towards a carriage waiting nearby. The second he stepped foot in there, Chan closed his eyes and started repeating the same sentence over and over again, either to wake himself up from a nightmare or as a prayer to save him from this hell.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. 

When he opened his eyes again, it was already daybreak outside. He couldn’t tell how many places they passed by; he had been to a lot of the towns close by, but he didn’t recognize anything he was looking at. When the carriage finally came to a halt, the man sitting next to him pushed him to move.

“Get out.”

As the crisp morning air fully woke him up, Chan was still trying to calculate where he could be, but his curiosity didn’t last very long. When he looked to his right down the street, he was met with the glorious sight of the palace in the distance.

They had made it to the fucking capital of the state. 

“Ayuzawa! Your shipment has arrived,” one of the men banged on the door with too loud of a voice for this early in the morning.

The house they were standing before was a bit strange. It didn’t even look like a house. It was quite large like a dojo, and red bars separated the entrance from the street. There were seatings on either side of the short walkway with floor tables placed in front of them. About ten steps later was the door to the three-floor wooden building with curvy roofs.

“What even is this place?” Chan finally uttered his first words after hours.

The leader of the men walked in at long last and answered his question as he walked past.

“Your mother sold you to this house for her debts. You live here now.”

It was right at that moment that a part of his soul evanesced completely. 

He had seen a lot of things over the years because of his mother’s filthy habit. He had endured a lot of things. Suffered and lost a lot of things. But the one thing he always kept telling himself was that she was their mother. She had given birth to them. He had thought there was a limit she wouldn’t cross. He had thought her sons would be the limit.

From that day onwards, he had a mother no more.

“Goodness gracious, what happened?!” the woman opening the door gasped at his sight and promptly escorted him in.

“He fell,” the leader answered from the door, “We have to set off. The payment.”

After sitting her arrival in front of the fireplace, Ayane returned to the entrance with a pouch filled with rons.

“He looks so young,” she quietly asked with worry, “How old is he?”

“He is the year of the dragon.”

“Only of nineteen winters? This is a boy!” she shrieked, “And he most certainly doesn’t look like he accepted to work here.”

“He doesn’t have a choice if he wishes to live.”

“I told you to ask around, Jinseok, not bring the first stray you saw on the street!”

“Listen, woman, we trade flesh and here you have several pounds of it. We are going to take this money from you whether you take him or not,” he spoke with a mixture of fatigue and exasperation, “You will be out five thousand rons and he will die on the street like a sick dog. The choice is yours.”

As the men left the teahouse, Ayane felt utterly helpless. She couldn’t ask this boy to take up the intended job, nor could she send him back to the street in good conscience. The poor thing looked miserable like a wounded puppy. She went to her bedchambers to pick up some supplies to clean his wounds as well as a pot of tea, then sat down right next to him.

“What is your name, my prince?” she poured him a cup.

He stayed quiet as he blankly stared into the fire, but his silence felt like he was screaming in her ears. Full of hatred. Full of resentment. Full of pain derived from the tears that he couldn’t cry for the life of him.

“But how else will I know what to call you?” she tilted her head to try and look into his eyes.

“Does it matter?” he scoffed, “Just give me a new one.”

“Do you not like your own name?”

Well, he used to. He loved hearing his name when Soyeon called it. It felt like it held some meaning then.

But now?

“There is no point in keeping it,” he took a deep breath as his gaze darted to his feet, “I’m not that man anymore.”

A man. Despite being so young, he indeed sounded like a man who had been through ten lives already. He carried himself like one. He was resigned like one, and it was the most unfair thing. 

No one should have to be a man in the spring of their youth like this.

“I still wager your name is as beautiful as you are,” she warmly smiled at him, “Your future will build upon your today, will it not, my prince? There are many beautiful days ahead of you to mold you into a proper man.”

“Beautiful days?” he finally turned to face her, brows furrowed in sheer fury, “Do you even know what happened, lady?”

Ayane’s smile instantly faded when she looked into his eyes. Unfathomable amounts of pain were crawling in those soft browns. There were scars in them. There were pieces of his soul floating around like astray glass shards, ready to cut open anyone who dared come close.

“I watched my own flesh and blood slain before my eyes. I will never hold the girl I love again. On this very day, I wish to disappear. I wish to exist no more. I wish to leave everything behind, just pretend it was a nightmare and that life never existed in the first place, otherwise I will lose my mind, so PLEASE!!!” he clung to her like he wanted her to spare his life, eyes welled to the brim with tears too scared to fall, and beseeched in a trembling whisper, “Give me a name, I’m begging you.” 

His hands were ice-cold like he had been out in the cold for hours. Maybe he was. Maybe when your life was stolen from you, you were forced to live a thousand winters in the blink of an eye. He may have been alive for only nineteen winters, but in a single evening, he had aged at least nineteen more.

“There was a soldier from the Westlands I used to know,” Ayane answered as she dripped antiseptic on a piece of cotton, “You remind me of him a lot.”

“Was he battered, broken, and morose?” he derisively snorted.

“No, he was handsome, brave, and very headstrong,” she touched the tip of his nose, then continued to clean his wounds, “I humbly think his name would suit a man like yourself.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“When you meet as many people as I have, you start seeing their souls through their eyes,” she caressed his cheek with the kind of motherly affection he never once received from his own, “And yours are like skies roaring with the most gut-wrenching thunders, my prince.”

Maybe she indeed possessed the ability she claimed to have after all because eerily enough, that was exactly how he was feeling.

“The men who brought me here,” he uttered somewhat hesitantly, “They said they trade flesh.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never… I d–I don’t know… I can’t…” he struggled to find the correct words to get his point across, “I do not possess the necessary expertise to work at a teahouse.”

For the briefest moment, Ayane wanted to burst out laughing. Expertise, he said. If only he knew that kind of expertise was not something to arrive with, but rather develop under this very roof, even make a reputation for if you were good enough.

“You will not be doing anything of the sort. Maybe in a few years if you wish to,” she tried to suppress her endearment at how fast he completed the rest of that sentence out of obvious embarrassment, “For now, you will just help me and your older brothers here run some errands, okay?”

As he nodded, she gathered her supplies as well as all the cotton she used and rose to her feet.

“Why don’t you go take a bath? Wash your fatigue off of you. I have prepared your room at the very back of the corridor.”

“I have… a room?” he looked at her with genuine surprise.

“Why, of course.”

She showed him where the bathhouse was and left him to collect himself, however much he could in this state. When he reemerged in linen night robes afterwards, he seemed a lot calmer and indeed looked more like the prince he was. No amount of bruises could overshadow the unique beauty he possessed.

He was surely going to break a lot of hearts someday.

“Forgive me for not asking sooner,” he abashedly asked as he got under the duvet, “What is your name, my lady?”

“Lady is for other kinds of people. You may call me Madam Aya,” she responded with her usual coziness, “Sleep as much as you want. I will be in the next room if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

Ayane’s heart broke into a million pieces. This young man’s life was in ruins, yet he was still thanking her. She was filled with this inexplicable affection towards him. Who knows, maybe if she had a son of her own, it would feel like this, too.

Maybe that was why she unwittingly named him after the man who would be her brother-in-law if life was the slightest bit of fair.

“Sleep well, Christopher,” she blew out the candle right next to the door and quietly slid it close.

「© 2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

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Sitting backstage is thrilling, but it also makes your heart ache as you watch how many fans adore your boyfriend, how loved he is by all—how quickly that could go away if you were simply discovered. His big grin is suddenly broadcasted on the big screen, and you can’t help but smile along despite the pang in your chest. His smile is infectious, it always is; his dimples so deep and prominent, the way his eyes squint and shape into little half moons.

The adorable vision is quickly dashed when the camera zooms out and you see his abs flashed on the screen, a smug smirk splayed across his handsome face as he turns away playfully, teasingly. Your gut wrenches with want and jealousy—you can’t tell if that’s for the fans, or for you.

As soon as the set ends, there’s a short intermission, and you see a few of the boys bounding backstage immediately, reaching for fresh water bottles to chug from as a few staff members run up to dab them with small towelettes, to try and rid them of some of the sweat droplets that seem to cling to every inch of their skin.

Chan and a few of the others remain on stage for a few minutes more, hyping up the crowd and simply having fun, before retreating backstage.

Chan’s talking to Felix as he approaches, still giddy from the performance as he describes a part of it to his bandmate—as if he almost can’t believe it himself. He’s clearly proud of himself, of their group, for playing such a big and important venue.

He spots you almost immediately, and he leaves Felix’s side without anything more than a quick, “see you in a minute, mate,” before he’s engulfing you in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your temple. He smells like sweat, all musky and manly, the scent entangled with the cologne he hastily applied that morning before leaving for the performance rehearsals. It’s your favorite smell on him—it drives you wild.

“You did amazing, baby,” you praise, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a real kiss. Your lips mesh with his as you try to show him just how proud you are, pressing your body to his as his hands begin to travel lower down your backside. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you…”

“Good, because it was all for you,” he says cheekily, one hand squeezing your ass and making you blush, looking around to make sure no one saw. Noticing your nervousness, he chuckles and removes his hand, instead interlocking his fingers with yours and beginning to walk you back to one of the dressing rooms. “Here, no one will be able to interrupt us here,” he says softly, locking the door behind the two of you. “Just need a moment alone with my pretty girl… that’s all we need, right?” His tone shifts quickly—from a gentle one to a more sultry one, the look in his eyes lustful and needy. Clearly, he’s still hyped from the stage, his fingers twitching with overflowing energy and a need to take it out somewhere—on someone.

“Confident today, are we? You only need a moment with me?” you tease, pulling him over to a couch. He sits down, eyes never leaving yours as you settle in his lap, straddling him with a grin on your face.

“Well… only if we have time for round two when we get back to the hotel,” he admits, leaning forward to press hot, mouthy kisses on your sensitive neck, making you shiver. “You know I like to take my time with you, baby girl.”

You can’t help but giggle at the nickname and the ticklish feeling of his lips on your neck, travelling down your exposed collarbone and chest. “Mhm, you spoil me,” you moan softly, your cunt throbbing with need as Chan bites a playful mark onto your breast, licking over it with his tongue before moving further down.

“Were you jealous?” he asks curiously, as he nuzzles your chest, his hands working quickly and skillfully to undo your bra under your shirt. It unclasps, and he gently takes off your shirt and your bra in one fluid movement, making you whine with embarrassment—you thought this was meant to be a quickie, and being fully exposed in a random dressing room made heat rush to your cheeks.

“Maybe,” you say, pouting. Chan’s gaze flickers from your adorable expression to your hardening nipples, and he can’t help but reach forward and thumb over them, grinning cockily. He picks you up with ease, laying you down on the couch and hooking his fingers under the waistband of both your pants and panties, leaving you completely nude. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, eyes glazed over with lust as he looks your nude body over, eager to taste you. “I just… couldn’t tell if some of your teasing was for me or the fans,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you admit this.

“Aw, baby… you know it’s always for you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your stomach. His rough hands come up to grab your hips, making sure you can’t squirm out of his grasp. “And if the fans think it’s for them… let them think that.” He chuckles, and you almost scold him for his arrogant tone before your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of his tongue licking a fat stripe up your center, leaving you breathless and gasping.

Your thighs twitch from his ministrations as they grow more intense, rougher, but he holds you in place, his defined biceps flexing as he growls into your pussy. “Stop moving, baby,” he slurs, drunk on your essence. He wraps his plush lips around your clit and sucks hard, making you whine loudly and clap a hand over your mouth, remembering just a moment too late that you’re technically still in public, where anyone could hear you and walk in.

“Channie,” you moan, throwing your head back into the pile of plush throw pillows. Encouraged by your sounds and twitching thighs, he licks faster, teasing your sensitive nub and messily dipping his tongue into your dripping slit just to make you squeal.

Two thick fingers make their way into your cunt as well, curling upwards just the way you like—he knows all the right places to make you whimper and squirm under his touch.

Your orgasm approaches quickly, as Chan’s digits squelch inside your dripping pussy and his tongue licks over your swollen clit. He groans into your mound, grinding into the couch as he feels his cock aching in his pants, so incredibly turned on from eating you out that he isn’t sure he can last, even though he’s yet to slip into you.

“Cum for me,” he demands, fingers gripping your hips even tighter—likely tight enough to leave bruises.

Who are you to deny your lover such a pleasure?

You can’t hold back anyways, whimpering loudly as you cream all over his fingers and on his tongue, your wetness dripping down his digits and onto the leather couch cushions below. You hear the messy squish of his fingers as he continues to stimulate you through your orgasm, eliciting a soft whine from you due to the slight overstimulation. When your hips buck uncontrollably and you choke back a sob, Chan finally pulls away, your juices dripping down his chin, his eyes shining with lust and adoration for you.

He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his tongue—so sweet and tangy, so you. It makes your swollen pussy throb with need despite the fact that you just came harder than you have in a while.

A knock on the door prompts the two of you to jump apart, and for Chan to throw a random towel over your nudity.

“Let’s continue this tonight,” he says, chuckling as he tosses you your clothes.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but agree.

@ petrichor-han 2024. do not translate or repost without my permission.

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IMAGE CREDIT: @/hanhanji_914 (via X)

On Jeongin’s birthday you had promised that you would take him shopping and out to lunch, just the two of you. Jeongin was your agi bbang. A little brother to you as much as he was to your boyfriend Chan and the guys, so you tended to spoil and baby him because of that. If Innie wanted a shopping trip with you for his birthday, he was going to get it. So you made the plan weeks out and the day had finally arrived. The only issue was, the day you had plans with Jeongin was the same day Chan had planned a surprise day for you to have alone together and he wasn’t being the easiest person to deal with because of it. 

“Channie, baby, it’s for Innie’s birthday I can’t cancel on him.” He knew you couldn’t but he still pouted. 

“Now don’t give me that face. I’ll come home and make a nice dinner for us and if you’re a good boy maybe we can play tonight.” The sour look stayed glued to his face. 

“Channie...” He stomped and turned, like a petulant child, crossing his arms dramatically. You tried not to laugh at how ridiculous he was being. 

“Don’t even try it. That aegyo only works on Felix. Now come give me a kiss, I have to go pick up Innie.” He turned and walked over, stopping in front of you. He pecked his pouty lips against yours quickly. 

“Baby.” Chan sighed and gave in. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you sweetly, your lips lingering longer and he let out a content sigh. 

“I’ll be home in a couple hours. I love you.” His bottom lip started to protrude again. 

“I love you too.” He said morosely. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head as you walked out and closed the door. You and Jeongin were having a great time, you had a great lunch and you were just finishing up at the last store and then you were going to head home. You had even snuck away while Jeongin was distracted in the gaming store and got a little something for you and Chan for later to make up for not being able to spend the day with him. Jeongin was trying some things on in the dressing room when Chan text messaged you. 

Channie: Are you almost done? 😒

You: Chan are you really still being a pouty brat about this? 

Channie: A BRAT?! 

You: Yes baby, that’s exactly the way you’ve been acting, like a brat. 

No reply. You sighed. 

You: Chan? 

You: Channie? 

You: Christopher?! 

Channie: What. 

You: Why did you stop answering me? 

Channie: I’m busy. 

You: Oh yea? Doing what?  

You suddenly got a text with an attachment. You opened it and there on your screen in all his glory was your boyfriend. His abs and the lower half of his body at least. He was laid back on your shared bed palming his hard cock over his black briefs. 

You: What do you think you’re doing? 

Channie: Just having a little fun while I wait. 

You got another text with an attachment. He was really pushing it with this today? You opened the text and it was the same angle, the same abs but this time the underwear were pulled down and his hard dick was in his hand. 

You: Chan heed my warning right now baby. Do not do what you’re about to do. 

Channie: Fuck it feels so good.  

You: Chan I’m serious... 

Another text with an attachment, video. You walked further away from the dressing rooms and turned the volume down on your phone. When you opened the attachment there was video of Chan, same angel as the pictures, stroking his cock. 

You: Christopher, this is your last warning. 

Text, attachment, video again. You opened it. Chan was jerking off faster, twisting his wrist and focusing on the head, his legs twitching, the tell-tale sign he was about to cum. Jeongin came walking out of the dressing rooms right when Chan’s load painted his abs. You quickly closed your phone and put it away. 

“Hey Innie! Did you like any of them?” He shook his head. 

“No they didn’t look the way I thought they would.” He shrugged and put the clothes back on the rack. 

“Aww, I bet they looked great, but what’s most important is that you feel comfortable in them.” He smiled, his foxlike eyes scrunching up and his dimples appeared. 

“Oh yea we gotta get going. Channie texted and said he left something at the studio that he was wanting to work on at home today. He needs me to take him to get it.” Jeongin smiled and nodded. 

“Of course noona, I’ll just put these back real quick." You ruffled his hair and he rolled his eyes at you, pushing your hand away. You dropped Jeongin off and then hurried home to deal with Chan. A line had been drawn between you, a rule. Neither of you came without the other and Chan stepped over the line. When you got home you walked through the apartment looking for him. You headed down the hall towards your room and ran into him coming from the bathroom, curls still wet from his shower, towel wrapped around his waist. He jumped and put his hand over his heart. 

“Jes-fuck! You scared me! I didn’t think you would be home so soon.” He thought he’d at least have time to shower, dry off and change before you got there. He sounded a little nervous. He very well fucking should be. You were going to tear him apart. 

“Did you really think you could send me a video of you coming all over yourself knowing you’re not allowed to touch without me, and I wouldn’t come right home to punish you. You’re gonna pay for every drop of cum that spilled Christopher. Now get your ass in that room and get in the chair.” Chan gulped; he was in trouble when you called him Christopher. 

“Wait the chair...” You smiled sweetly, nodding. 

“You heard me. Sit that cute ass in the chair.” He nodded and did what you said. He knew he pushed your buttons, slammed his hands down on the control board really. The chair was essentially a padded dining room chair with arms that had silk restraints attached to them as well as the front legs of the chair. You went into the bathroom and changed into the surprise you had gotten for Chan while you were out and then slid your robe on over it. When you walked into the bedroom, Chan had stripped his towel off and was sitting in the chair like you had told him to. You walked over, knelt down in front of him, and secured the first silk tie around his ankle. 

“I don’t know what has gotten into you today Christopher...” You grabbed his other ankle and fastened the silk tie to it. He had enough room to wiggle but not get out. You ran the tips of your fingers up his bare thighs and his cock twitched. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” You took your hands off of him and then fastened another tie around his wrist. 

“Too bad. You’ve been bad Christopher. Pouting, acting jealous, touching yourself, coming without me. Tsk.” You tied the last silk tie around his other wrist, then stood and backed away from him a little. You untied then dropped your robe and Chan’s jaw dropped too. You stood in front of him in sexy black lace lingerie. 

“See I had planned on making it up to you. Had you been a good boy you’d get to touch me, tear this off me, fuck me however you wanted but you had to pout, had to touch, cum. You were so bad Christopher and now you’re getting edged until I decided to let you cum, if I let you cum.” You walked over closer to him again. God he wanted to touch you, you looked amazing.  

You started to run your finger down Chan’s forehead, his nose, over his lips, pulling the bottom down a bit. Your finger continued tracing down Chan’s chin and neck. It tickled when you grazed down his chest and tummy making him tense and flex but you didn’t stop. Your finger dragged along the shaft of Chan’s cock and when you got to the tip you gently pushed down and let go making his hard dick spring back. You got on your knees and tip toed your fingers up Chan’s bare thighs closer and closer to where he wanted your touch, then your hands were gone. You licked one, Chan watching intently, wishing he could grab your hair, wishing you would suck him off. 

“Your face gives you away baby...” Chan’s focus came back to what was actually happening instead of what he wanted to be happening. Your mouth was so close to his cock he could feel your warm breath fan across it. 

“You want me to suck on it don’t you Christopher? Unfortunately for you, it won’t be that easy.” Your mouth was gone but the hand you had licked was now gripping the base of Chan’s dick. The contact forced the smallest moan from him. You smirked and then, at an agonizingly slow pace, you started to stroke his cock. It was already torture but he knew better than to whine, at least not this soon in. 

“Don’t you think you should be trying to say sorry?” Chan nodded and you started to jerk him off a little faster. 

“I am! I am sorry!” You hummed. 

“Hmm sorry, I don’t buy it.” You took your hand off his cock and he groaned in disappointment. 

“I am baby girl I am! I’m so sorry!” You started to stroke him slowly again. 

“Are you?” You started to go even slower. 

“YES! I am I’m so fucking sorry!” You started to move faster, smirking at how quickly he was coming undone. 

“What are you sorry for CHRIStopher?” Chan was starting to breathe heavier. 

“Fuck! I’m so-sorry I was pouting...” You hummed pleased with his answer so far. 

“What else?” His head tilted back; his eyes scrunched closed as he focused. 

“S-sorry f-for touching...t-teasing...” You hummed your satisfaction again but there was still more. 

“What else Christopher?” He whined and moaned as you continued to jerk him off. 

“Don’t you dare cum. I need an answer. Do you want me to stop?” 

“NO! NO! Don’t stop! I won’t cum! I’m sorry I came without you earlier! Sorry for being a brat!” You started to stroke the head of his cock fast and cooed at Chan as his thighs started twitching. 

“Aww, good boy. What do you want baby?” He moaned and whined again. 

“Cum, please let me cum!” You thought about it as you continued to smear his precum and stroke him. 

“You want to cum? Are you sure?” Chan nodded aggressively. 

“YES! PLEASE!” A wicked smile spread across your face. 

“Okay baby. You can cum.” Chan was surprised you had given in so easily but took it. He let out a high-pitched moan, grunted and started coming. You stroked him as ropes of cum streaked his tummy and your hand. You kept going, not slowing down as the last streak of his load shot across his abs. Soon he started to feel the pins and needles of overstimulation. Chan tried to move, to pull away, but the ties made that impossible. Beads of sweat started forming on his temples and he was breathing heavily. 

“W-wait...” You looked up but didn’t stop jerking him off. 

“Wait? Wait for what baby? You wanted to cum yea?” He gasped and nodded. 

“Yes but...” You cut him off and started to pick up the pace again. 

“But nothing. Where are your manners? You wanted to cum, don’t be ungrateful.” Chan shook his head no. 

“Th-thank you.” You smiled and pumped his cock faster. 

“C-can’t...” You licked his tip. 

“Can’t? Can’t what baby? Can’t just be a good boy? Hmm? Can’t just be patient? You wanted to cum baby. So cum.” You started sucking his dick bobbing up and down. 

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You hummed and Chan whimpered. 

“OOOOhhh fuck! I... I... I...” You pulled off and stroked him fast and hard.  

“Awww be a good boy and cum in my mouth.” You started sucking on him again while you jerked him off. His legs tensed and his thighs flexed and you knew he was close again. He was gripping the arm rests so hard his knuckles were turning white, sweat starting to drip down his neck, his ears and face were red. 

“I-I’m g-gonna cum fuck! Gonna cum!” You felt Chan’s legs tense and just before he started coming you removed your hands and mouth. His cock twitched and he came all over his abs again, groaning out upset that his orgasm was ruined by you pulling away. 

“I thought you wanted me to cum in your mouth?!” He whined. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders. 

“I changed my mind.” You started giggling when you saw how strung out he was. You walked over, grabbed Chan’s towel and wiped up his cum then you stood in front of him again and turned, your back facing him. You bent down and slid the black lacy panties down and off giving Chan an excellent view of your glistening cunt. God he wanted to touch you, taste you. 

“Please... Please let me touch you...” You turned facing him again. You bent down and kissed the tip of his nose. 

“No.” He whined again as you climbed onto his lap and straddled him. 

“You’re gonna sit there now and you’re gonna watch me use your cock and you can’t touch or taste and if you keep whining, I’m gonna blind fold you and then you won’t even get to see the present I’m wearing for you.” Chan immediately stopped complaining. 

“Good boy.” You reached back and lined Chan’s dick up with your dripping hole and started to sink down on him. The groan he let out was somewhere between pain and pleasure. 

“Mmmm Channie you fill me up so well...” He kept gripping the arms of the chair, panting as you started to ride his sensitive cock. 

“Fuck! Feels so good baby!” You moaned and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as you kept bouncing on his lap, chasing your own orgasm. 

“Fuckfuckfuck baby girl god damn!” You started grinding on his cock hard and deep and you felt your orgasm radiate through your body.  

“Channie fuck yes fuck yes! Ohhhh god!” You rode it out and then slowed down, catching your breath. You threaded your fingers through Chan’s sweaty curls and tugged, pulling him closer so you could kiss him. You claimed his full lips kissing and nipping at them as you started to slowly move up and down his dick again. 

“Please... please baby girl! I’m so sorry! I’ll never do it again I promise!” You held on and started riding him faster. 

“MMMmnever?” Your warm, wet, walls squeezed him. 

“Never! God I promise baby never! I’m so sorry! Just give me a little break, let me eat you out, touch you, please!” He was begging so sweetly. You cooed and kissed his nose. 

“Good boy.” You climbed off his lap and untied his ankles first. Even once you had his hands freed he waited for your permission to get up and touch you. You walked back towards the bed. 

“Come on baby, come touch me.” Chan sprung up from the chair and walked over quickly. He pulled you close and kissed you hard pressing your bodies together. 

“Fuck baby girl it’s torture not touching you. Especially when you look like this.” His hands roamed your body over your lingerie as his lips trailed down your neck. 

“I know Channie it is for me too baby.” He groaned, happy he was finally tasting your skin, touching you. 

“I’m sorry baby girl, I’m so sorry.” You nodded gripping his curls again, tugging so his lips were on yours again. 

“I know you are Channie, I know. Touch me, lick me.” He laid you back on your bed and got comfy between your legs. 

“I’m not stopping until your legs are shaking beautiful.” You bit your lip when Chan ran his tongue through your folds. He hummed savoring you. 

“Yes, fuck... Chan! Feels so good...” You were gripping onto his curls again as he ate you out eagerly. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pressed his face into you more. He pulled away long enough to run his fingers down your glistening cunt and push two inside you, then he started licking and sucking on your clit. 

“OH MY FUCK YES! YES! CHANNIE DON’T STOP!” You were hurtling towards your climax. He groaned against your pussy as he continued his attack nipping, slurping, sending you reeling into an intense orgasm. Your legs clamped around Chan’s head and he just let you, if he goes having his skull crushed by your legs while he goes down on you then he’ll die a happy man. Chan made you cum three more times and indeed did not stop until your legs were shaking. He crawled back up your body placing soft kisses in all his favorite spots. Finally he kissed your lips hovering over you. 

“I love you baby girl.” You traced your fingers along his strong jaw. 

“I love you too Channie.” Chan kissed you as he sank into you and you gripped his shoulders as he pushed in deeper, filling you. 

“Ugh god! So Good!” Chan hummed in agreement as he started to find his rhythm. Your soft pants and moans egged Chan on and he started to fuck you harder. 

“Fuck yes baby girl take it!” You held onto his strong broad shoulders spreading your legs to take more of him if it was even possible. Chan gripped your hips and made it possible, giving it to you hard and deep until you were a babbling mess. As well as you were able to take him apart, he was just as capable of tearing you to pieces too. He leaned over your body and kissed you as he kept giving you hard thrusts.  

“Please... please... can I cum inside?” He whispered against your lips. 

“Fuck I want to give you my babies... please?” You nodded and moaned out when he started chasing your orgasm and his own, snapping his hips into yours as he was sweating and panting. When you came around his cock Chan’s hips faltered and he pushed deep as he spilled inside you. 

“Mmmmm Channie fuck!” You pulled him down on top of you more, making him put his weight on you, pressing you further into the mattress. 

“Closer, need you.” You whined. Chan cooed and started kissing your face all over. 

“Anything for you baby girl.” He slumped on the bed next to you, wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you in close, rubbing into the crook of your neck with his nose, his warm breath tickling you. You giggled and turned in his arms nuzzling deeper into his hold, resting against his firm chest. You both laid there like that coming back down from the intense sex you’d just had. When Chan looked down at you there was a bit of a frown on your face. 

“Hey, hey, hey... what’s wrong?” You shook your head against his chest. 

“I’m sorry if you were upset I couldn’t spend the day with you. I love you so much and I really wanted to...” Chan shook his head and kissed you passionately as he cupped your face. 

“No baby girl no, I wasn’t upset. I was just teasing so we could have a little fun when you got home. I know it’s supposed to be ‘punishment’ but fuck you’re so sexy when you go all dominant on me like that. Especially in this lingerie.” He pulled you close again and wrapped his arms around you tightly, you nuzzled back into him. 

“I’ll still cook dinner...” Chan squeezed you. 

“How about we cook dinner together?” 

after being alone for so many hours, when you walked in he had thought nothing of it, looking up and smiling. “hi- AH!” he literally jolts off his chair, kneeling on the floor. you’re wicked smile going unseen as he trembles on the floor. never again.

ᡴꪫ MINHO…. also wasn’t very keen on the idea but gave in when you said you’ll treat him to something delicious. he had simply asked you to not put it at the highest setting and especially around the members. technically you didn’t… just that on the day you two had gone out to get some treats, you had stayed back in the car.

he’s jogging out. picking up the order and jogs back. as soon as he opens the car door and hands you the bag- “FUCK-“ he folds over, clutching your arm for dear life. you quickly yank him inside the car as he jerks. “you little- ah!” you quickly turn it off when the driver looks back at you weird, leaning over and closing the car door as minho slumps into the seat and catches his breath.

ᡴꪫ CHANGBIN…. was completely okay with the idea. what he wasn’t okay with was how you kept messing with the settings. he was literally on a call with his mom.

“h-huh?” he swallowed, legs rubbing together and his breath shallow. “no i’m not sick- i- uh y/n is just next to me and distracting-“ you put it at the highest level “-ME! Y/N!” you grin wickedly. good thing you’re in his room.

ᡴꪫ HYUNJIN…. enjoys his quiet time. meaning he likes the peace he gets while painting or drawing. however, he couldn’t really concentrate as you were in his room- which wasn’t exactly the reason why. he had a vibrator and you were messing with the settings.

he keeps jerking when you switch the settings and his pencils moves wobbly. at some point he’s a whimpering mess slumped over his desk and you watch from his bed with a grin.

ᡴꪫ JISUNG…. likes to bed rot. he was sure you’d go easy on him since you two were comfortable in his bed. except you managed to get him to go open the door for the food you had ordered. he had complained but you kissed him and convinced extremely well. so he obeyed and walked out, only for you to start with level 5.

he’s not even out the door when he yelps and slumps against the bedroom door. you watch him with glimmering eyes before stopping. he doesn’t even trust you anymore to walk out but again, you’re a good convincer… he barely makes it to the living room…

ᡴꪫ FELIX…. so our wannabe gamer is literally in his own world. after some good sex he happily agrees to the vibrator. he knows you’re a huge tease but he didn’t expect you to actually torture him. he’s screaming at the top of his lungs while playing with his friends… when you put the highest setting possible. he chokes. literally.

“I’M MUTING-“ he screeches and with a quick tap on the button in his headset, he freely whimpers. you mess between the settings. you later suffer the (extremely good) consequences because he kept losing and sucking at the game afterwards.

ᡴꪫ SEUNGMIN…. was not easy to convince. it took a lot of work. you had to PLAY NICE. l/n y/n does not play nice but you really wanted this so you had to work for it. after so much coaxing he finally gave in. he was super awkward and tense, expecting you do start from the first second you stepped away. but he realized this is actually something he has to go by unexpectedly.

hence… after a few hours, he’s comfortably walking around and cleaning. he’s tidy. you’re helping out and watching him. the second you see him bend over to pick up the dirty clothes bin, you hit the button and- “NGH-“ he doubles over. never again…. at least for a super long time

ᡴꪫ JEONGIN…. was super nervous. yes, he was extremely down to test that out but again, nervous and shy. you coaxed him after a while and soon you managed to make him accustomed to it. as you know, jeongin is pretty clumsy…. so no one was really fazed when you’d put the lowest setting and startle him.

the rapper blinked, straightening up. his stylist finished long ago, he just walked near your station to grab your water bottle. he stares at you, unsure how to answer. you’re used to it, so you smile. the thing about your boyfriend is that when it comes to you- he doesn’t know how to take a compliment. anyone else can say something and he’ll be playfully narcissistic for a second.

not with you. he genuinely has his brain short circuit when his charming boyfriend compliments him. especially when you eye him with those eyes, which always trail towards his waist. he fidgets, taking a seat next to you. the members are off goofing around, the camera is running and recording felix with chan.

your stylist finishes and walks off to work on jeongin. no one is looking at you two.

jisung’s leg is bouncing, he realizes he maybe shouldn’t have drank so much water. he normally doesn’t but being around you makes him so parched for some reason. you still make him nervous, sometimes he can’t believe you actually want him. yet, he feels at ease when you place a hand on his knee. he swallows.

“wanna come with me to the restroom?” he asks, realizing he should probably empty his bladder before performing.

you smile, he misses the glint in your eyes as he stands. he gives a small announcement to chan before exiting with you. idols are buzzing about as he guides you to the restroom. he’s decently surprised when it’s empty, heading straight to the farthest stall.

he doesn’t think much of you coming in with him. he does the same to you sometimes. it’s his anxiety that makes him do that though, yet he still doesn’t question you.

before he even faces the toilet, you grab him and press your lips against his. he makes a small noise, closing his eyes and accepting the tender kiss. except the tenderness disappears once he melts into your arms. you have a hand behind his head, pushing him close and pulling him flush against you with an arm around his waist. his hands grab your sides, clinging to the outfit.

your kiss turns aggressive, eating away at his lips ferociously that he finds himself backing away. still, you finish eating his lip tint before finally letting go.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks breathlessly, eyeing you with hazy eyes. his heart is racing and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other when he remembers what he came here for.

“what do you mean?” you ask, not so innocently and slightly serious.

jisung blinks, pursing his lips. “i- no, nothing.” he says softly, pecking your lips again.

he tries to pull away again, he needs to pee. he feels his bladder crying out from how long he’s holding it in for. yet, the peck you mistake it for consent. you grip him again, making him whimper.

you spin him around, pulling down on the collar of his shirt. he shudders when you kiss and lick his nape. he’s sensitive there, trembling and hiccuping his moans. your hand snakes down and rubs him through his pants. that’s when he completely slaps your hand away.

“y/n- no-“ he tries to get away but you grab his waist and grind him. “i need to pee- that’s what i came here for!”

he slaps his hands over his mouth when the door opens and footsteps present themselves. just as two voices exchange conversation between themselves, you buckle his belt and pull his pants down. he tries to stop you, panicking because he’s never been good at being quiet.

“y/n,” he begs as quietly as possible, not only does he know what you want but there’s two things happening.

1) there’s people down the restroom stalls.

2) he needs to pee.

he’s getting overwhelmed. it doesn’t get better when you push him forward, making him brace himself against the wall with his hands out. his heart is about to jump up and crawl up his throat and out his mouth when he feels you hands spread his cheeks apart. the toilets flush farther down and he closes his eyes when he feels the tip of your dick against his hole.

“y/n-“ he whimpers out, bringing a hand back to push you away.

the two people are chattering as they walk out and jisung takes the opportunity to look back at you. his eyes are glistening with tears.

“i need to pee.” he says, “stop.”

“then pee baby,” you say with a serious expression, shoving yourself in with a single movement.

jisung turns back to face forward, trembling and gasping. he screws his eyes shut as you grab his hips and pull him flush against your pelvis. he feels you pulse inside him, he opens his eyes and looks down at the toilet bowl. his own dick semi-hard but close to bursting with piss.

“y/n- wait- pull out- we-we can’t,” he feels his tears drip from his eyes when he screws his eyes shut again at the movement of your hips.

“shh,” you usher as you lean forward, flush against his back.

“i need to pee-“

“then pee.” he shakes his head and you have the audacity to bring a hand over and grab his dick to aim down at the toilet-

“y/n stop-“ he shakes his head but the more you thrust into him, the more he feels his will weakening.

“come on baby,” you whisper huskily into his ear, “be my good boy. you’re doing good so far, so well, my pretty baby is obedient, no?”

jisung swallows, hiccuping when he feels a trickle of pee leave him. “ngh-“

“don’t you want to be good? my good little slut?”

that did it. he slaps a hand over his mouth, his other hand bracing him against the wall as he lets out the stream of piss into the bowl. you pound into him, as he pees, finding ecstasy in it. you do feel a little bad, but you two have talked about things like this and you know he’ll be fine.

even after he’s done, he trembles as you keep your relentless pace from behind. at some point he’s unsure if he came alongside his piss, the sensations new and overwhelming.

“that’s my pretty baby,” you grunt from behind, reaching your high soon after.

“you’re a piece of shit,” he gasps when he feels you cum deep inside, his hips aching from your grip on them.

“my feisty baby,” you smile, placing a kiss on his nape. “you can hate me later.”

“sure will.”

Despite prospering from the countless resources the country has to offer, The Queen’s infertility has brought The Kingdom of the South great distress. When she finally ended up with child, the whole Kingdom celebrated Her Highness’ pregnancy for 7 days and 7 nights straight, with traditional dances and music, with carts full of the tastiest foods, and so much wine, there was barely any left to send over to the neighbouring Kingdoms in the usual trade.

The happiness lasted for a while, for the Queen loved the child in her belly, and the King loved his Queen. They were a happy family, a royal couple to be envied. For the whole 9 months of Her Highness’ pregnancy, the castle squirmed with excitement, rooms for the future Heir have been prepared, trained attendants were brought, and people could hardly wait for the arrival of ‘the Miracle’, as the child was often referred to by everyone both inside and outside the castle’s high walls. After all, the future Heir was truly a miracle, after Her Highness tragically lost so many children, unable to carry to term, or even go past the 12 week mark of the pregnancy.

Everyone had great expectations for the future Heir, the highest of them all being that it had to be born male. Of course, this was out of Her Highness’ control, but she did her duty diligently and went to The Temple to pray day and night, for the Kingdom needed a future ruler, and with her poor health, another child would probably be an impossible feat to achieve.

The Kingdom was ecstatic when the bells of the Castle Tower began ringing, signalling the birth of the much-expected child, but quickly fell into mourning as the bell shortly started ringing again, eight times in a row, signalling The Queen’s passing.

Merchants closed their shops, musicians hid their instruments, and children stopped playing on the streets for three whole months, as the country mourned the absence of their so beloved Queen. No one paid much attention to the little child she left behind, especially since the little baby would not be an Heir, as the customs of the Kingdom follow, for the worst thing possible happened.

The child the Queen bore was a girl.

“Aristia.” the Queen said on her deathbed. “This shall be your name, my child, for you are born to be a ruler of people.”

Her servants were pitying her. All those days and nights spent on her knees at the Temple were for naught, for she failed to give birth to an Heir for the King. And even worse, the Queen died moments later, unable to express the love she had for the baby.

The moment the King stepped into the bedchambers, seeing the body of his beloved dead wife, he fell into despair. His love for her was unmeasurable, and now this little… sleeping, small thing took everything away from him.

He only spared one look at the horrendous thing after finding out its gender, and once he saw her, the only thing he could mutter was “My Queen has died for nothing.”

~

It didn’t take long for Aristia to realise she is not a regular child. People would bow in her direction, they would only address her as ‘Princess’, not by her name, and she was not allowed to play with other children, like all the other children her age would. At only four years old, she already knew how to read, and she was fluent in 3 different languages of the Main Continent.

No matter her accomplishments, the only way she could describe her relationship with her father was indifference. She wasn’t even sure she had a father in the first place, but the maids made sure to tell her all about how great the King was, and how busy he must’ve been to rule over their large Kingdom – way too busy to come see her, or to request her presence anywhere near him.

The first time she saw her father was when she was 5 years old, at the first banquet she was allowed to attend. That’s when she met the soon-to-be-Queen as well. Of course, she was aware her father was about to remarry. She’s heard the maids whispering in the hallways about how beautiful and young the new Queen was, and presumably about how fertile she was, and then shushing each other. Rumour has it that she was already with child.

Aristia found that rumour to be true when she bowed in front of her father and the soon-to-be-Queen, and by the time she raised her gaze, her father was preoccupied laughing along with her and putting his hands all over her belly, as if proud.

The first child the New Queen gave birth to was a girl. A beautiful girl with eyes as green as the Emeralds on her father’s crown. Green was, fore and foremost, the colour of The Kingdom of the South, so they said the King instantly fell in love with the little girl. From the moment he laid his eyes on her, he ordered the butlers to summon the best dressmakers in the country to ensure that his beloved daughter was adorned with the most beautiful dresses.

Such a laughable comparison to Aristia, who only owned little garments, some of them custom made just because her personal maid – formerly her mother’s – requested that the Crown Princess must own appropriate clothing for her status, and the King obliged due to his respect for the maid who took such good care of his late wife.

What does a baby even need so many clothes for? Aristia wondered. She could do well with only a few dresses, despite her large closet looking as empty as an abandoned town reeking of disease, so she couldn’t fathom what use a baby had for a whole wardrobe.

Once the maid died when Aristia was 13 years old, right after her coming-of-age ceremony, it was like tragedy struck one after another. Losing her only ally in the castle, the princess started to be treated less-than, to the point where even the maids were rude to her face. Since she didn’t have her father’s favour, there was simply nothing she could do. Sure, she could threaten them, or even hit them if she felt angry enough, but such reactions only brought further discontent from her father, who kept comparing her to her little perfect half-sister.

That girl was only 8 but was treated so much more differently than Aristia ever was. It even made the princess wonder what she did to deserve such little attention, for she’s never known love, to be able to ask herself about it in the first place. Not from her father, anyway. Her maid loved her, she told Aristia as much before she passed away. But now that Aristia was alone, she didn’t think things could get any worse.

But when life throws hardships your way, they always come in pairs. The Queen was with child again, and this time, a healthy baby boy was born, sending the Kingdom into a joyful mood. While everyone was more than ecstatic to welcome the Heir to the Throne to the world, this only meant the worst to Aristia, as she’s been stripped of her status as Crown Princess. She doubted she would become Queen of the Kingdom anyway, as the Kingdom was patriarchal, but still, her status allowed her to at least keep her head high, as her maid taught her. But now, she had nothing.

Once the boy was born, the world stopped spinning for Aristia. She was no longer allowed to take classes and learn how to rule a Kingdom, as it simply made no sense for her to know such things. She was a girl, merely the elder half-sister of the Heir, and effort and resources would be better spent otherwise.

She felt like she had no purpose. Everything she’s worked towards for the past 15 years was gradually being taken away from her, erased, just as one’s footprints in the sand under the merciless sea water. For the first time in her life, she requested an audience with His Majesty, her father, and was surprised to not only have her request accepted, but instead of being asked to come to the Throne Room, as audiences usually took place there, she’s been invited in the King and Queen’s bedchambers.

She’s never been allowed in this part of the castle before, and she let her eyes wander to the beautifully sculpted wooden walls and expensive marble floors. She realised for the first time how little luxuries she had in her own chambers. It was as if this side of the castle and the side she resided in were different places altogether, not part of the same building.

She was escorted by two knights and her presence was announced to His Majesty, who quickly let her in.

“Father, I’m glad to see you are in good health.” Aristia bowed respectfully.

“My daughter.” The King spoke, as if he'd just noticed her presence in the room. “You may rise.”

The princess straightened her back and stared at her father. He looked older than the last time she saw him. Was it two years ago? Three?

“I heard there’s something you’d like to tell me.” His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t.

“Yes, about my classes… Father, I think-”

He raised his hand in the air, signalling her to stop talking, and she bit back her words.

“Was it just that?” He sighed.

Just that, he said, but it was the whole world to Aristia. She’s always found solace in her books, and the historical characters she’s read about were her only friends.

“I would really appreciate it if I could-”

“Enough.”

“But Father-” She tried once more, and he angrily stood up.

“Such insolence! Do you think everything in this world belongs to you? Do you think you’re that important to bust into my private rooms and make demands?”

“No! I never-”

“It seems you simply can’t learn your lesson. I should teach you how to properly behave in front of your Father!” He stood up angrily and approached the girl, now a trembling mess in front of the King.

Too bad there was not even an ounce of sympathy in his eyes. They were cold and ruthless, and they held a heaviness in them, almost as heavy as the palm he used to hit Aristia’s cheek, sending the girl to the floor.

It took her a few seconds to collect herself, to figure out what happened to her and why she was lying on the floor in His Majesty’s room. When she came back to her senses, the King had his back turned on her, inspecting something in his drawers.

Aristia placed both her hands on the floor and pushed herself up, when her father turned to face her once again, holding a weapon of some sort in his hands.

A whip, she figured quick enough as her father approached her and pushed her back down, forcing her face to the floor.

Then, with no warning, he whipped her ten times.

~

The girl’s back was sore and painful to the touch. When the water made contact with the battered skin, she winced in pain. Bringing her knees closer and holding onto them with her frail arms, she let her face fall on them and started sobbing.

It hurt badly, and she didn’t know what warranted the beating. It was the first time in her life someone raised their hand at her, let alone beat her so mercilessly.

She could only hope it would be the last time.

~

It wasn’t.

That night in her father’s chambers became an almost monthly occurrence – sometimes more often, if he was feeling especially stressed, other times rarer, like the days when the Crown Prince would accomplish a milestone, such as when he said his first word, or when he learned how to walk.

His Highness would ask for her, and she could only oblige, as he was the King, and not going to him when he requested your presence was considered treason. While lying in bed late at night, she would tremble with anxiety, wondering when her father will take his fury on her again; when she’ll get summoned and have her back whipped until it bleeds; how many times he would flog her.

The only solace she found, the only thing that managed to keep her mind away from the horrors of her father’s cruelty, was the Royal Library, where she was thankfully granted access to after some pleadings and a few good beatings. Since no one would need her most times, as she was barely treated like a Princess anymore, only having a few attendants, she was able to spend most of her time in the confines of the large bookshelves, hidden away from the world, where she read and read and read about fallen Empires, medicine, geography, politics; everything she could get her hands on.

Despite losing her right to study under a scholar, her mind was sharper than ever, capable of memorising every paragraph she read, making so many connections, her previous teachers would’ve been proud of her.

Being knowledgeable helped her feel somewhat better. Safer. By the time her brother would grow up and get the Crown, she would hopefully be educated enough to get a position in his Council and become a well-respected member of the Court. Hopefully, there would be a place for her.

That was her life’s ambition.

~

It all came crashing down when Aristia was 18. She hasn’t been summoned by the King in a little while, so that most of her scars were now white lines on her skin.

Still, the anxiety in her stomach never went away, in anticipation of when the King would finally have enough on his plate and ask her to his rooms once more, to beat her black and blue and pierce her skin with the unforgiving leather whip.

Would she bleed this time?

She never knew. It rarely got bad enough for her to require proper after care. To give her father some credit, he sent the Royal Doctor a few times to her chambers to treat her wounds and make sure they wouldn’t get infected. Of course, not for her well-being; she was just property in his eyes, but he needed to make sure word wouldn’t get out about his leisure time activities. As far as everyone else was concerned, The King requested her presence to get updates on her life, and they’d gotten closer. No one besides the Royal Doctor knew about the abuse he would put her through, and she was smarter than to let anyone know.

She hesitantly stepped into his chambers after the guards announced her presence, and to her surprise, the King was not alone this time around. In the room, the Heir was playing with some sort of toys on the floor right in front of his father, and he was smiling brightly. Aristia didn’t know much about her half-brother. He must’ve been about 5 by now, and he apparently liked dolls made of corn husk.

“Good evening, Your Majesty, His Royal Highness” She bowed to the two.

“Aristia, my daughter, you’re here!” He stood up and came towards her, taking her into his embrace. It was the first time he’s ever hugged her.

She didn’t know how to feel about it, but her guard was still up, and her hands formed fists, nails digging in her palm. She didn’t know what to expect, and being unprepared was something she absolutely loathed, especially considering that she’s always been unprepared for every event happening in her life.

This time, too, she was unprepared.

“Take a seat, daughter.” The King commanded, and she obliged. She tried not to look at the floor where the Heir was playing, because she only envisioned herself, sprawled on there half-naked, lacerations on her back, weeping quietly.

She didn’t want to think about it. Considering the Heir was in the room, maybe she wouldn’t get beaten tonight.

A few moments later, servants carrying trays of sweets and kettle sets entered the room, arranging everything beautifully in front of them.

Does he plan to poison me? Aristia thought and took a reluctant bite of the slice of chocolate cake given to her. She hated doing everything so hesitantly, but she was scared of her father. She hated it.

“As you might be aware, there are some tensions between us and The Empire of the Sun. My daughter, you know what a valuable asset you are to our Kingdom.” He started, and Aristia didn’t want him to continue.

So, that’s what he thought, after all. She was just an asset. An object her father owned.

She could guess where this was going.

“Yes, Father.” She replied, a little fake smile plastered on her lips.

“For once, you could be useful and do your duty as our Princess. The Emperor of the Sun sent us a marriage proposal to unify our lands and prevent war. This is such a great opportunity for us!”

Aristia stood silent.

While her father tried to paint her a picture-perfect setting, she knew what this truly meant. She was to be sent to the Empire as a sacrificial lamb, as a fake Empress with no actual power or status. It was crystal clear to anyone who read a history book that the Empire of the Sun and the Kingdom of the South have never gotten along; they’ve always been at each other’s throats for more territory or more goods, the main point argued between the two being the Emerald Mine in-between the two lands.

The Kingdom has always claimed that emeralds are their signature stone, so it was only natural that the land the Mine was on belonged to them, but the Empire has argued otherwise, and there have been tensions for the past hundred years, with wars sometimes breaking out at the borders.

An alliance through marriage would mean that no war would break out for a little while, and that’s what Aristia’s father was most likely hoping for. More time.

Historically speaking, the Empire of the Sun was in the right, and the mine belonged to them after they conquered the previous Kingdom standing at the borders of the Kingdom of the South, but for the past hundred years, The Kingdom was the sole extractor and seller of the emeralds. Losing the mine would mean a great financial loss to the Kingdom, and every year the King was able to stall the Empire for officially claiming the mine was a win.

Aristia couldn’t understand why the Empire would propose something like that, though, as she felt they were at a disadvantage. There were possibly other political factors at play she was unaware of. She needed to do some more reading.

“The marriage will take place in a month. You will be sent to the Empire with your close attendants.”

Of course, she was being discarded. Aristia almost wanted to laugh. Her father prepared all these cakes to sweet-talk her into agreeing without a fight. He always hated her, and she’s never known why, and now he was getting rid of her, sending her to a place where she would be loathed by everyone.

Was this why he’s always been so cruel to her? To prepare her for this uncertain future of being Empress of a foreign land that would most likely never accept her as a rightful ruler?

She just wanted to laugh.

~

~The Empire of the Sun~

“A marriage, huh?” The Emperor laughed for a few seconds, then his face became stern.

“Well, you are the most sought-after bachelor.” Seungmin, one of his counsellors, replied in a joking manner.

“So, you want to tie me up to that wench? Do you really think that’s the best way to avoid conflict?” Bang Chan challenged, but his two counsellors stood proud in front of him, sure of themselves.

“It would be best. You know the morale of our soldiers is on the ground.” Jisung replied.

“And why shouldn’t we just attack the Kingdom? It’s bound to happen, anyway, especially as they keep pushing our buttons.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, we’ve been at war with other nations for the past 10 years.” Seungmin chimed in.

“If we could at least postpone it while we identify all our losses and regroup, we can surely fight the Kingdom of the South and get the emerald mine back. Think about it, Your Highness, it’s the best solution to buy us time.” His other advisor, Jisung, insisted.

The Emperor hummed. “Jisung, how much time do we need to buy?”

“We discussed this with the Royal Knights as well. As you are aware, the South has the most powerful army in the Main Continent, so a war could be fatal to us at this point. However, Minho said that three years of preparations- no, even two years should be more than enough.”

“Besides,” Seungmin intervened, “providing you don’t bed the Princess, your marriage can be annulled in under two years for unfulfilling her tasks.”

“Even if you bed her, we can annul it if we prove she committed treason.” Han added.

“Right. It’s as simple as asking her to serve you a cup of tea at dinner and the maids will add poison to your cup, then we’ll frame her.” Seungmin shrugged.

“If we think about it, she doesn’t even have to become Empress. She’s a bit young for you anyway. She could get married to Prince Felix and-”

“No.” Chan cut Jisung off with a shake of his head. “We won’t… just… no.”

“They are closer in age.” Seungmin pointed out. “Although, be it between us, I heard through the grapevine that the people are really wishing for their dear Emperor to get married and have an Heir sooner rather than later. But Prince Felix’ marriage would also make them happy.”

“If it were anyone else, it would’ve been a great plan… There’s one thing for me to get a political marriage, but when it comes to Felix… you both know how kind-hearted and naïve that child is. He’d get attached to her. Let him meet and fall in love with someone we don’t plan on getting rid of.”

“Then… will you marry her yourself?”

“I’m not thrilled about welcoming a spy into my abode. They say the King adores his daughter. If she finds anything about us, she will most likely divulge it. It’s dangerous to us.”

“Keeping her in the dark will be easy enough, Your Highness.” Jisung chuckled. “It’s not like she’d have any allies here. Everyone in our Empire despises the Kingdom of the South. She won’t find a friend in anyone in the Capital.”

Bang Chan tapped his fingers a few times against his throne, deep in thought. The plan was good. They’d have a strong enough alliance and temporarily give up on the mine while their armies are recovering, and they’d get rid of the Princess in just two years, and hopefully settle the centuries old debate regarding the Emerald Mine as soon as his Empire is prepared to fight again.

“Mhm. Fine. Seungmin, please write a letter to the King of the South and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Good work, you two.”

~

Not many people are inconvenienced by her, as she’s not accompanied by too many anyway: only a handful of knights and a few maids. With how small their convoy is, no one would assume a princess is travelling in one of the carriages. Still, they condemn her for being sent away from the Kingdom to accompany her, as if it was her fault.

She makes a mental note to send everyone back as soon as she’s settled in the Empire.

However unpleasant the atmosphere in the convoy is, Aristia tries to enjoy the unfamiliar sightseeing of meadows and mountains and streams as she moves across her Kingdom. She smiles gleefully as she is able to point out the names of the rivers and the small towns she briefly passes through on the way to her new home; after all, she memorised the maps in her geography books by heart. If someone dropped her in the middle of nowhere, chances are she’d figure out her location with ease. The maid in her carriage smiles at her and shows some curious expressions when Aristia tells her about the history of the places they’re going through, or what each village and town is known for, and she is grateful to have a partner to converse with until the maid loses interest and falls asleep.

With so many breaks along the way, the journey lasts almost two weeks, and with each passing day, Aristia’s heart beats louder in her chest. She wishes she could escape the inevitable, run away somehow and start a new life far away from the Kingdom and the Empire.

She knows she can’t. The cards fate dealt her seem to ensure that she’d be hated wherever she goes, anyway.

She’s heard that the Emperor of the Sun is a kind man; perhaps he would be kind to her as well, even if their nations are enemies. He’s the one who asked for her hand in marriage, after all.

And if not kind, perhaps at least indifferent. She hopes he won’t abuse her like her father did. She hopes he won’t hit her until she’s sore and has difficulty moving the next day.

That’s not too much to ask for, is it?

When she arrives, a knight opens her carriage and helps her step down. Not that she needs much help, anyway. She’s dressed modestly. Unlike a rightful princess, her dress is not big and elaborate, and she has no difficulty moving herself. It seems unsuited for the Capital. There are a lot of people waiting for her, and despite the contempt in their eyes at the sight of her – which she expected – she can’t help but feel they are disappointed by what little things her father sent her with.

A couple carriages, a few servants and a modest dress, totally inappropriate for the grandeur of the Empire. This thought only gets reinforced when she watches the intricate embroideries of jewels on the knight’s clothes. He looks like a princess more than she does.

She wants to laugh thinking about it, but she keeps a straight face as the man bows to her.

“Future Moon of our Empire, welcome to Your new home.” He says respectfully, but his words are empty, and his eyes cold.

Aristia smiles in return, trying to think of this as a warm welcome. It is anything but. “Thank you. What is your name?”

“Lee Know, Your Highness.”

“Nice to meet you, Lee Know. Would you be so kind to show my attendants to their temporary residence for the night, and assure they are well fed? Please talk to the cooks and prepare enough food for them to pack tomorrow, as they have a long way back to the Kingdom.” Aristia commands like a true princess, just as her maid taught her. She keeps her head high, even if the words feel foreign on her tongue.

“Your Highness?” Lee Know tilts his head. He was definitely not expecting this. Doesn’t the princess know that she has no allies in the castle? Why would she send everyone back home?

“Hm?” Aristia forces a smile. A knight should always respect her commands, her maid made sure she remembered this.

“My apologies, I was just assuming His Excellency The Emperor should know of this beforehand.”

“Oh, is that so? I don’t see him around, though? Unless I’m mistaken.”

“Unfortunately, His Highness had some urgent matters to attend to and was not able to come meet Your Grace.”

“I guess it can’t be helped, then.” Aristia smiles again. “Since the Emperor is not here, I am the highest authority.” She challenges him. She notices he has something he’d like to say, but he bites his tongue back, much to her pleasure. The power is indeed delicious, and it gives her a little rush, even though the command is not difficult. She doubts the Emperor would have much to object anyway, as he most definitely considers everyone in the Kingdom an enemy.

“But Princess, how could we go back-” Her maid starts but shuts up instantly, a look of panic crossing her face, that only intensifies once Aristia turns to her. She has no authority to speak before the princess, unless explicitly given permission to, and the fact that she ignored these customs in front of all the maids, butlers and knights of the Empire that came to welcome her shows just how little everyone in the Kingdom respects her. She knew she needed to cut her losses, but this blatant disrespect only intensifies the burning wish she has to get rid of everyone that ever looked down on her.

God knows she’s going to have a lot more people showing her the same disrespect in the Empire. She doesn’t need anyone from the Kingdom to do so as well.

The maid immediately avoids her gaze and bows, so Aristia ignores her and starts walking towards her chambers, guided by Lee Know. She gets introduced to a couple of maids as well, who are supposed to assist her going further.

Spies, Aristia thinks. She knows that every move she makes will be tracked and reported to the Emperor.

She also gets introduced to a dress maker who hastily takes her measurements for her wedding dress, who throws her nasty looks for refusing to take off all her garments. How could she, when her back has such ugly scars from the abuse she endured?

When every appointment for the day is done, she asks one of her new maids to prepare a bath for her. The maid bows in her direction, but Aristia can already sense the disdain coming from her. Her suspicions are verified as soon as she checks the bath water.

It’s freezing cold.

~

“They are really brave for this move.” Jisung chuckles and shakes his head, amusement plastered on his face.

“They must think we are fools.” Chan laughs along. “I can’t believe they only sent 100 gold as dowry. What kind of princess marries with such a laughable amount?”

“Right? Besides, isn’t the King rumoured to adore his daughter? What is going on?”

“We won’t forget this for sure when the time comes.” Seungmin shakes his head.

The council formed of him, Jisung and the Emperor is currently seated around a table, together with Lee Know, one of Bang Chan’s most trusted knights.

“How did she seem to you, Minho?” Chan asks.

“Mhm, quite unpredictable. I told you already that she asked me to send all of her attendants home.”

“Foolish girl.” Seungmin shakes his head. “Doesn’t she know she has no allies here?”

“She didn’t seem particularly close to the people in the Kingdom either.” Lee Know shrugs.

“Maybe it’s all a façade to gain our trust.” Jisung suggests. “If we let our guard down now, she could find out that we’re planning to uncover the documents for the mine and start a war in two years.”

“We’ll see.” Chan replies. “Anything else about her, Minho?”

“Yes. I received word that she had her measurements taken yesterday, and apparently made quite a fuss about not wanting anyone to see her naked. She didn’t let the maids assist her washing either.”

Chan chuckled. “What, is she shy?”

“Quite unusual for a princess to wash herself.” Seungmin observes. “When are you planning to meet her?”

“I’d say never. But realistically, during our wedding.”

“What, you won’t go see her even once?” Jisung’s eyes grow large. “I knew you were cruel, but that’s another level, Chan.”

“Don’t call me cruel, I’ll have your head cut off for treason.” The Emperor threatens jokingly. When it’s just them in the secrecy of the council room, they don’t have to keep appearances. Sure, Bang Chan is the Emperor of the Sun, but he’s grown up with a handful of loyal people around him he considers as close as family, so he allowed them to drop the honorifics when in private settings. “Felix keeps beating around the bush to go meet her, he’s quite curious.”

“Dangerously curious.” Seungmin adds.

“I’m also curious.” Jisung admits.

“She’s just a spoilt rotten princess of our enemies. What is there to be curious of?” Lee Know asks the men around the table.

“I agree. Nothing good about getting acquainted with someone like her. Our original plan of ignoring her completely seems to be the best to ensure nothing unwanted gets to her ears.” Seungmin says.

“All I know is that I’m not looking forward to the wedding.” Bang Chan remarks.

~

“Your Highness, may we enter now?” The attendants softly open the door to Aristia’s chambers, keeping their heads down.

“Yes, come help me.” She commands. She managed to put on the large wedding dress on her own, making sure to cover her back completely before allowing the attendants to come finish dressing her.

The wedding dress is the most beautiful garment Aristia’s ever seen. It’s white, embellished with beautiful green and golden jewels and white pearls all over; its sleeves are puffy, made of a soft, see-through organza that is not so heavy on her arms, and looking in the mirror, she’s barely able to recognise herself. Her train is so long, she is sure it’s going to catch everyone’s attention as soon as she steps in the room.

Dressed in the white and golden colours of the Empire, she notices, as if for the first time, that she is really beautiful. She looks like a true princess, like the future Empress. Her garments are also adorned with green emeralds, much like her wrists and neck, a symbol of her former Kingdom, which she finds quite ironic.

‘The jewellery has been chosen by the Sun Himself’, as one of her attendants said.

Why would he want her to wear green, and not gold?

Is this his way of welcoming her, somehow telling her that she should feel as if she’s still home, or is this some sort of threat informing her that she’s never going to be accepted fully?

The green emeralds all over the dress also make this last thought a bit more obvious to her, but she decides not to ponder on it.

Maybe I’m overthinking. Aristia shakes her head and informs the maids that she’s ready.

As she gets out of her rooms, two knights bow in her direction and start escorting her towards the church. One of them she recognises. She even remembers his name: Lee Know, the first face she’s seen when she stepped out of the carriage, the man who first welcomed her into the Empire. It’s the first time she sees the second one, though. He’s a bit shorter than Lee Know, and his arms are a bit buffer too. His expression seems softer.

Since he came to escort her, he must also be an important knight.

Once they reach the church, Aristia tries to not look too much around. She’s curious, but she keeps her eyes from searching the faces of the people looking at her, following her every move. She breathes in and makes her way towards the Altar, where a man dressed in the same colours as her - only without the green emeralds - is waiting with his back turned.

The Emperor, she thinks as she steps up next to him. He doesn’t spare her even one glance, and she refrains from turning her head to watch him. Instead, she side-eyes him and notices a sharp jaw as if he’s clenching it, a perfectly sculpted nose and brown eyes. She averts her gaze a few seconds later, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she’s curious about him.

Still, isn’t curiosity normal? He’s never come visit her ever since she got to the Empire, not even once, and before they officially get married, she doesn’t have a high enough authority to go see him first, unless he asks for her, or unless she requests an audience.

Every muscle in Chan’s body gives him away. He is displeased to be at the Altar next to a bride he doesn’t like one bit, nor want, nor even need.

Well, the last bit is false, even if just a tad, and he knows it. He does need her for this marriage, giving him an easy temporary alliance to her nation, but he’s counting the days until he’d be able to get rid of her, even if they haven’t shared one word so far. He knows he dislikes her without having to talk to her. The fact that she hasn’t looked for him or even asked someone if she can see him tells him how arrogant the princess is, too.

Tsk. He almost clicks his tongue out loud in annoyance.

He is not the only one displeased to be there, though. Aristia is as well, and so is everybody in the church. The only delighted ones are the people of the Empire whose sons have been drafted to join the army at a young age for wars that seem to be without end.

Aristia is discontented with this situation; she’s the daughter of a King who didn’t want her, sent over like a sacrificial lamb to his enemy, a man who doesn’t want her either, who won’t even cast a look at her. She decides she won’t look at him either. Two can play this game.

Let’s just look at these flowers and not think. She repeats in her head as she admires the bouquet of white peonies.

The priest begins talking, spewing nonsense about eternal love and about how they will always have each other’s back. As if for the first time, Aristia realises that even though they are a fake couple, the marriage is very much real. What a shuddering thought, to be forever tied to this man she knows nothing about.

By the end of the priest’s long speech, it’s traditional for the couple to kiss, so Chan turns his body towards the princess, and she is able to see him properly for the first time.

The Emperor is good looking, she notices, but his gaze pierces, pulling at Aristia’s heart strings. She doesn’t know how someone can throw her such a malevolent stare, and she almost shakes when he firmly rests his right hand on her neck right under her jaw, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. He uses that same hand to lift her head up, their eyes fighting a silent battle.

She expects a kiss and closes her eyes instinctively, but instead, she feels him remove his hand from under her jaw, and moments later, her head is weighted heavily by what she assumes is the Empress’ crown. Her left hand moves towards the foreign object on her head and touches it unsurely, but the darkness in the Emperor’s eyes tells her she is indeed wearing the crown of the Empire, matching his golden one.

She is only able to see her own reflection in his eyes, and she tries her hardest to keep her composure and show him that she can also be Empress, not a simple toy he brought over from the Kingdom.

The next time his hand rests under her jaw, she decides against closing her eyes. She will no longer be taken by surprise. He hesitates for a bit when seeing the new-found determination in her orbs, but eventually moves closer and presses his plum lips against her decisively, and people start clapping, for the Sun of the Empire has finally welcomed his Moon.

~

Following the church service, a great ball takes place in one of the rooms of the castle. The atmosphere is radiant, filled with chatter and laughter and sounds of glasses clinking against one another as people get drunker and drunker, celebrating the union between The Kingdom of the South and The Empire of the Sun. In earnest, everyone is toasting for the beginning of a time of peace and tranquillity, as the Empire has always been at war due to the large ambitions of the previous Emperor, Chan’s father, who wanted nothing more than to see their Empire conquer all that used to belong to them centuries ago.

Chan has much of the same ambitions, and even after his father’s sudden passing, he’s managed to fulfil his wishes and brought the Empire to the largest it’s ever been. Despite this being a good thing in terms of the Empire’s prosperity, it’s also been tiring on its people, who’ve seen their sons, husbands and fathers sent off to war, to never return back home.

The Sun and the Moon are seated together at a table overviewing the banquet hall, sitting in silence. He doesn’t address her any words, so she doesn’t bother to strike up a conversation either.

What a lonely place this is, up on a throne with no one by your side but a betrothed that doesn’t want you, while everyone else is having fun right in front of you.

Even during their first dance, Chan barely looked at Aristia, and he hadn't spoken to her at all. The disgust plastered on his face during their first dance was obvious, and his indifference now regarding her presence is, too.

Truly, she was nervous during their first dance, but she realised quickly that Chris was at best unconcerned about their wedding and the dance. He simply took the lead, as men must do during a dance, and she followed him, but they didn't say a word, nor did they smile or show any kind of expression signalling they at least get along. She assumes they looked like those rigid, stiff wooden figures in the music boxes, and she dreads the plays that will inevitably get written about them and the royal wedding.

Aristia starts wondering if the people in the room are also able to notice the height of the wall between them but realises it’s a pointless thought to have. She focuses on the chalice of wine in her hand instead, that’s already been emptied and refilled a couple of times. She can’t help but feel how uncomfortable the crown is on her head, how it’s making her scalp hurt.

She wishes she could take it off, throw it across the room and run away.

The ridiculously large dress would make it hard to do so. She thinks, and almost lets a chuckle escape past her lips.

The alcohol is getting to her head and it’s getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open, which is exactly what she is hoping for. She hopes she’ll pass out as soon as she gets into the Emperor’s chambers. Like any woman on her wedding night, she is expected to offer herself wholly to her husband, and hopefully bear his children as soon as possible. She doesn’t want it, but it’s her duty as a married woman, and even more so as the Empress. If she’s drunk enough, the man next to her can do whatever he wants to her body, and she won’t feel a thing during the deed. She almost winces imagining the horrendous pain she’s going to be faced with tomorrow after The Emperor has had his fun, but her many years of training to be a respectable Crown Princess aid her in keeping a straight face.

Besides, whatever he does to her can’t be worse than what her father’s done up until this point, can it? A beating must certainly hurt way worse than sexual intercourse. That’s what she hopes for, anyway, burying all the books on marriage etiquette she had to read deep in her head, trying not to think of the lines describing the numbing pain women feel under their partner the first time, and, if they’re unlucky, during every intercourse.

“Sun and Moon of the Empire, I congratulate you on your marriage. May you live happily ever after together and be blessed with many children.” A young blonde approaches the table and bows respectfully, and Chan starts smiling.

“Felix, no need to be so formal.” He says but doesn’t bother introducing Felix to Aristia or explaining who he is.

She can guess, though, since Felix is also wearing white and gold, the colours of the royal family, and his head is adorned by a crown, albeit smaller than Chan’s. Considering the fact that he also addressed them first, without waiting for permission to speak, he must be the younger prince.

“Are you having fun, brother? You haven’t even gotten up since the first dance. I’m sure Her Highness must be bored.” He says, looking expectantly at Aristia.

“Not at all, His Highness is great company.” She replies in an almost mocking tone, concentrating hard to not slur her words.

“I must apologise for interrupting you two, I’m sure there’s a lot to talk about as you get to know each other. However, I’d really love it if Her Highness would join me for a dance.” He offers Aristia his hand.

“Oh, I’m afraid I might step on your toes. I’m not a good dancer, and I’ve quite enjoyed the wine from the northern region this evening.” She chuckles and tries to play it off and politely decline his invitation, but Felix doesn’t back down.

“Not to worry, Your Highness, I am quite strong and an excellent dancer.”

To that, Aristia can’t object anymore, and so she places her hand in his and stands up with his help, rearranging the uncomfortably large dress and instinctively placing her hand on her crown, making sure it stays in place.

Felix guides her to the dance floor and places his left hand firmly around her waist, keeping her right hand in a strong hold.

They start spinning to the music, looking elegant under the delightful gazes of all the people in attendance. Despite being quite intoxicated, Aristia matches Felix’ lead perfectly.

“My sister-in-law said she’s a bad dancer, but it doesn’t look like it.” He remarks, and Aristia can’t help herself but joke around a bit, and steps on his foot.

“Oops.” She smiles, and Felix starts laughing brightly. Aristia thinks the title of ‘Sun of the Empire’ would be better fitted for him, with how radiant his smile is, compared to his brother’s piercing gaze that’s been throwing daggers in her back ever since she stood up from the throne.

“Why are you trying to get drunk?” He asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, I’m not just trying to. I’m also succeeding.” She chuckles, and Felix laughs again warmly.

She is a beautiful woman, and he can’t help but feel bad for her; all alone, in an unfamiliar nation, married by force to someone she doesn’t know, who hasn’t spoken to her at all since the night began. He can’t imagine how suffocating that must be. She must also feel intimidated by his brother, since she’s also quite young. If he’s not wrong, she’s 2 years younger than himself, which means she’s 5 years younger than Chris.

“I’m Felix, by the way. Chan’s younger brother. He hasn’t introduced us, that rude rascal.”

“Rascal?” Aristia chuckles again. “Isn’t it treason to talk like that about the Emperor?”

“He’s a quite forgiving man.”

“He doesn’t strike me as such, but what do I know?” She fakes another smile as she hints at the fact that today is the first time she’s ever meeting the Emperor. “My name is Aristia.”

“I love your name. Rising Empress. How fitting!”

He exclaims, and she just smiles. Fake, fake, fake, fake. She always thought balls are tiring, but since her father hasn’t allowed her to join too many, it’s hard to get used to this.

She misses the confines of her room back in the Kingdom, the shelves with books to keep her company, and most of all, her loyal maid, taken away by sickness too long ago.

There is no sense of familiarity for Aristia in this place, no refuge. Only the suffocating dress, the heavy crown, the way too crowded ballroom, and a dagger stabbed in her back by her own husband, that’s making it hard to breathe and almost impossible to focus on the smiling man in front of her.

“He hasn’t talked to you much, has he?” Felix asks, as if he’s only now figuring out her earlier allusions.

“I enjoy silence.” She retorts.

“I’m sorry…” Felix smiles sympathetically. “So… back to my original question, is his company that bad that you have to be drunk to be in his presence?”

“Such is the fate of a bride. There’ll be plenty of time for us to spend together without knowing each other, and I feel woefully unprepared.”

She confesses, and Felix hums, barely audible over the loud music. Just as he wants to say something comforting, the music briefly stops as the musical ensemble prepares itself for a next song, and people come to compliment the two on their perfect dancing. They surround Aristia and start asking her all sorts of questions, definitely curious about her, and it’s becoming a bit too overwhelming, and she’s getting dizzy.

It’s too hot, and she’s had too much wine, and her corset is way too tight, and her head can’t seem to get used to the weight of the crown; it hurts. Aristia finds herself missing the tranquillity and comfort of loneliness that her throne provides, far away from everyone. She just wants to excuse herself and go back on her throne so she can breathe, but there are customs to be respected, and she doesn’t want to come across as rude and leave in the middle of a conversation. She starts scanning the room with her eyes, until they finally fall on the bulky guard that escorted her with Lee Know in the morning.

He’s not too far away from her; he’s there for her protection, and his gaze is also stuck on her. As soon as they make eye contact, it’s as if he understands that something is wrong; he sees the urgency in her eyes and instantly begins moving towards Aristia, asking everyone else to step aside.

“His Majesty requested The Moon’s presence, please excuse us.” He says with a bow and begins guiding the Empress away, ignoring the protests of the disappointed crowd, and she’s never been more thankful.

“Thank you.” She whispers as soon as they are a bit further away.

“I apologise, but… Are you feeling sick? You seem pale… if I may.” He whispers back, and Aristia nods.

“Just needed some air. What’s your name?”

“It’s Changbin, Your Highness.” He bows again as soon as Aristia reaches the steps to the two thrones and the table where only she and her husband are sat. She avoids looking into Chan’s eyes as he scans her face, and simply nods towards Changbin and goes to sit down.

For the first time ever, someone noticed her discomfort, and actively did something to help, and she is truly grateful. She hopes the banquet will end on a positive note at least, although it seems far from over, and just rests comfortably against the backrest of her throne, wishing for time to pass quicker.

After about an hour, a young woman approaches their table and bows respectfully, waiting for her or the Emperor to say something first. Being the highest authority in the Empire, unless the Empress or Emperor addresses you first, you are unable to speak to them.

“Arabella.” Chan says as soon as he notices her, a large smile plastered on his face, which makes Aristia involuntarily raise an eyebrow.

“I greet the Sun of the Empire and congratulate you for your marriage.” She says respectfully, almost making Aristia scoff.

She is the Empress now, but this girl – Arabella – hasn’t even bowed towards her, nor addressed her in the salutation. This in itself would be considered inexcusable behaviour, but Chris doesn’t seem to regard her as his wife either, so he doesn’t bat an eye at the ignorance.

“You may raise your head.”

“You look as healthy as ever.” She bows again, shorter this time, with an intoxicating giggle that is quick to reach Chan’s ears, and Aristia doesn’t fail to notice the way her husband’s cheeks receive prominent dimples as he smiles at the compliment.

“And you as well. Your father must be pleased to be able to pride himself with such a beautiful jewel.”

“Your Majesty, I am unworthy of your praises.”

My ass. Aristia thinks briefly and stops herself from rolling her eyes at this exchange. How blatantly rude, to flirt in front of her so openly. Does Chris want a concubine already?

“The night sky is truly beautiful tonight, Your Majesty. I wish you could see it as well.”

“If I weren’t confined in this ballroom, I would. You, however, should go and dance and enjoy yourself.”

Arabella. Aristia observes the girl walk away. I shall not forget this name.

~

The banquet lasts for a few more hours, which Aristia uses wisely to drink a bit more wine to the point where walking towards her room to change from the dress is almost impossible without the help of the maids.

When she gets there, she almost lets them undress her, until she remembers about the scars on her back. She doesn’t want anyone else to know about them. The Emperor would probably see them tonight, but that’s something Aristia could deal with, since he is unlikely to spread any rumours about her. He still has a reputation to keep, and marrying a broken princess of the enemy kingdom would not be a flattering appeal.

The maids are, however, a different story entirely. They feed on the insecurities of their masters and whisper between themselves late at night about all the affairs of the house. She knew it all too well, for she’s heard them many times before, when she was still living in the Kingdom.

So, she sends them away and begins taking off her garments excruciatingly slowly. After getting undressed from the large dress, Aristia is quick to discard it somewhere on the floor and begins changing into tonight’s outfit, which consists of garments that leave little to the imagination. Beautifully delicate lace lingerie, ruffled garters and a flimsy night robe hug her body, and on top of it, a fur coat she should wear until she reaches The Emperor’s chambers. Everything is easily discardable, but she tries not to linger on it for too long.

Before exiting the room, she places the crown firmly against her head, as she shouldn’t be seen anywhere without it. Even if she’s worn it for hours already, she simply can’t get used to the heaviness on her scalp, and she can already feel the impending headache. She’s never had to wear any crowns in the Kingdom; her father wouldn’t allow it, not wanting to recognise her status as the Crown Princess.

The knight who’s helped her earlier, Changbin, comes to escort her to Chris, and she can’t help but feel yet again like a sacrificial lamb served on a platter for her husband to devour. Changbin bows at The Moon briefly and avoids her eyes at all costs.

Is it embarrassing, knowing you’re escorting a half-naked Empress to your master, so she could be fucked like a whore for the whole night? Aristia almost wants to ask but keeps it to herself once again.

The wine is making me have foul thoughts. She rationalises in her head, for it’s way easier to blame alcohol than to blame the actual problem: a vulgar personality that comes out anytime she feels like fighting the whole world for dealing her a bad hand.

Once she enters the room, she is quite pleased to find it empty. This means a bit more time to prepare, and she suddenly doesn’t feel drunk enough.

She scans the table for more wine but is unsuccessful to find any until the door opens, revealing The Emperor.

“You’re here.” He states, as if surprised.

Aristia nods.

“Of course you are.” He mumbles. “Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, it’s truly a misfortune.” She replies, and he lets out a short, mocking laugh. She involuntarily hugs the fur coat tighter, as if to protect her body from his sight.

“You see, it’s quite funny that you’re here, actually. Wanna know why?”

“… Why?”

“Because I asked them not to bring you.” He smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Is that so? I shall take my leave, then.” She starts going towards the door, hoping he’d just let her pass. She brushes past him, and as soon as she raises her hand to open the door, she hears him curse under his breath.

“Fucking whore.”

She stops, her hand on the handle, as if she’s frozen. Anger is boiling up inside of her, but the rational side of her knows it would be better to simply get out and not look back. He doesn’t want to sleep with her, so she’s free to go and end the day without having to go through any abuse.

She should go.

Simple enough.

But how dare he?

How dare he not address her one word the whole night, and once he does, it’s to affront her?

“What did you just say to me?” She turns around, anger lacing her tone, and watches him right in the eyes.

“I said,” he smiles again, this time larger and more menacing, “fucking whore.”

“Whore?” Aristia chuckles. “Is that what you think of me? God, how ironic this is. You don’t know anything about who I am, but still dare to call me names.”

“Listen up, I can call you whatever the fuck I want. So, whore, kindly get out of my room before I also treat you like one.”

“No. You listen up. You might be Emperor, but you married me, so now I am your Empress. Act like it.”

“How daring.” He chuckles again, but then his face turns serious all of a sudden, and he starts aggressively walking towards Aristia, taking the crown off her head in one swift motion and throwing it across the room. He then grabs her wrist tightly and drags her away from the door, throwing her on the bed.

She freezes, just as she always did whenever her father would grab and hit her.

As soon as her back is against the mattress, the fur coat separates in the middle and lies flat on the bed, exposing Aristia’s body under the flimsy nightgown. She wants to cover herself from Chan’s sight, but he gets on top of her and pins her hands apart, looking sharply into her eyes.

“The temerity you have.” He starts, this time no longer smiling, and a chill makes its way towards Aristia’s spine. She’s scared of him, she’s sure of it now, and she’s crossed the line. “Do you think you’re truly an Empress? Let me break it to you: you’re not, and you’ll never be. Never. So, just stay somewhere, quietly and out of my sight, and I’ll leave you be as well. Is that clear?”

Will he hit me like my dad if I oppose him?

“You asked for my hand-”

“No. What I asked for was peace, so don’t flatter yourself. You and that father of yours who claims to be King are only thieves, stealing away our gems and claiming them as yours. But for the sake of peace for my people, I’m willing to turn a blind eye. That’s why you’re here. Of course, a foolish girl like you would have no way of knowing such things.” He spits out. “Do you have any idea how much you disgust me? Kissing you in that church today has easily been the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“You must’ve had an easy life, then.” She blurts out, annoyed with the way he’s patronising her, and something shifts in Chan’s gaze.

“You must be extremely intoxicated to keep talking back to me.”

“Tsk. Not enough.”

“Still keeping your head up after all I’ve said? Fine. Want me to show you that you’re nothing in this place?”

He aggressively rips away her nightgown and her bralette, leaving her exposed under him, and then presses his body on hers, his lips mere centimetres away from her neck.

“You mean nothing to me. You are nothing. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, and no one would bat an eye. You know why?” He whispers in her ear. “Because I am the Emperor, and you’re merely a tool.”

Aristia doesn’t say anything, her body trembling in fear when Chan separates himself from her.

“Didn’t you notice that I didn’t even let you wear golden jewels today? You are not part of my family. Is that clear to you now? Get the fuck out of my rooms, and don’t come back.”

She listens this time, hugging the fur coat as tightly as possible around her and sprinting to the door, opening it in a rush. She doesn’t even notice that she’s forgotten to pick the crown back up, not that she knew where it fell, anyway.

On the other side, Lee Know and Changbin are guarding the door. As soon as he sees her, Changbin’s expression changes to surprise, while Lee Know’s stays neutral.

Aristia musters up the last bit of dignity she has left, and looks into Changbin’s eyes, commanding him.

“Take me back to my rooms.”

It’s hard to fight back the tears that want to spill from her eyes, but she does so successfully until she’s alone. She heads towards the small balcony attached to her room and glances outside, hugging the fur coat tighter than ever, but doesn’t open the door. She simply looks outside, crying in silence, and tries to focus on something else – anything to take her mind away from her husband who loathes her and the reality of the fact that she’ll have to wake up in this Empire from now on.

Her eyes fall on the countless stars above, that give her a sense of peace. It’s always a humbling experience to watch the Universe and realise how small you are in the grand scheme of things. So, that’s what Aristia does. She just watches the stars dance and sparkle in front of her eyes, mesmerised by their grandeur.

That Arabella bitch was right. The night sky is truly beautiful tonight.

~

The Emperor loathes me. She thinks and turns the thought in her head a couple of times in hopes that she’ll find a solution, a way to combat his vexation. Then, she remembers some of his words:

“Just stay somewhere, quietly and out of my sight, and I’ll leave you be as well.”

That’s not too bad, she realises. If she were to just stay out of his sight, he wouldn’t ask for her either. She could live the rest of her days quietly in the Palace without having to see him, and just lead a peaceful day-to-day life reading books in the Royal Library. There certainly must be a ton of books she wouldn’t find in the Kingdom, especially medicine books, since the Empire is most known for their advances in remedies.

Nothing would be different from the Kingdom, except for the abuse she had to endure. She’s safe here, she hopes. The Emperor doesn’t want to touch her, so she’s safe. For the first time in years, she’s safe. Her back won’t be bloodied anymore; the soles of her feet won’t be sore for days on end; the back of her knees won’t hurt.

She is safe.

She is safe.

This thought brings a large smile on Aristia’s face, and she almost forgets about the headache. She gets out of bed and notices her crown on a table nearby the door, next to a vase of withered flowers. She puts it on her head and opens her door after hugging the fur coat tight around her body, and she sees an unfamiliar guard and a maid who bow respectfully.

“Hello.” She starts.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.” The maid and the guard speak at the same time.

“You may rise. What time is it?”

“It’s past 12 o’clock, Your Highness.”

“Oh my, I slept for some time. What are your names?”

“My name is Mari, and I’ve been appointed by His Highness to assist you.” The maid starts. 

The guard also introduces himself, and Aristia wonders what happened to Changbin or Lee Know. She notices their uniforms are different, so the guards she met must’ve been of higher rank than the one standing in front of her. However, she doesn’t inquire about it.

She asks Mari to draw her a bath and prepare some clothes for her, and ignores the guard, as his duty is to stay at her door and protect her from any intruders. Mari follows the orders, but to Aristia’s dismay, the bath water is cold once again, and the clothes the maid prepared are shabby.

She doesn’t say a thing, though. It’s clear that she’s disliked, so she expected some mistreatment. The withered flowers were her first hint. She’s not even sure if she should retaliate anyway, since she doesn’t have the Emperor’s support.

Feeling like a doormat is something she’s used to; it’s the treatment she’s received her whole life. However, sinking her body into the freezing cold bathtub, she can’t help but think of how harshly her mother’s maid would’ve scolded her if she knew what Aristia is willing to brush over.

Her head is now underwater, and she has the urge to scream, but instead, she just keeps her eyes closed and tries to ignore how much her body is shaking in the cold water. She has no desire to come back to the surface.

This is peaceful. She thinks, holding a strong grip on the edges of the tub, just to ensure she’s keeping herself underwater.

After about one minute, she feels a strong urge to breathe, so she reluctantly lets herself come up in a sitting position, taking a couple of hurried breaths. She read in a book a while ago that you can actively practice holding your breath in order to be able to do so for a longer time, so she decides that this would be a good thing to focus on for the time being.

Holding her breath.

She lets herself go underwater again, but to her dismay, she’s only able to stay there for about 100 seconds before she needs to breathe. Her breaths come out more hurried than before, and she internally curses. She decides a better course of action as of now would be actually washing herself, as she must prepare for lunch.

~

Once she is dry and dressed, she is escorted by her guard to another room where she would have her meal. She wanted to protest at first, considering that she’s eaten in the bedroom until now, and tell the guard to keep watch at her door instead, but decides against it when she notices she’s yet again going to eat on her own.

The Emperor doesn’t come to have lunch with her, not that she expected it, but if he did, then maybe…

Maybe she would’ve gotten more to eat than dried salad leaves and a salad dressing with a faint rancid smell. The tea she is served also tastes off, so she guesses that whoever brewed it is not too fond of her, letting the teapot on top of the flame for long enough to get this bitter taste.

~

With every passing week, the mistreatment keeps going far beyond. The ladies of the court talk behind her back about the lack of affection – or rather, interest – from the Emperor. It’s already widely known throughout the court that their marriage has yet to be consummated, that Chris kicked her out in the middle of the night, and that she didn’t object, she simply walked barefoot to her room with little dignity. All the ladies adore this subject, it hasn’t died off even months after, especially since the Emperor hasn’t spent any nights with Aristia since.

Loafer

Thief

Fake Empress

Dirty wench

And even whore, for whoever is brave enough to call Aristia that. The names she’s famous for are never ending, and the worst part of it all? There’s nothing she can do about it.

Nothing.

She can’t address any of the names she’s been called, she can’t counter the poison-tongued court ladies, for she has no achievements and no chance to prove herself worthy of the title of Empress. She is purposely kept away from all the Empire’s business by Chris and his advisors, so she can’t do any of her duties.

She’s been compared time and time again to Arabella, the young woman she started paying attention to since the wedding, and she’s found out some interesting things.

Arabella is a member of one of the most powerful aristocratic families in the Empire, who has supported the previous Emperor in ascending the throne. They’ve offered unconditional support to Chris as well, so everyone expected Arabella to become Empress, until talks of the negotiations between the Kingdom of the South and the Empire of the Sun started taking place.

This has apparently been a blow in the face for Arabella, who not only had enough power and support from her family and the aristocracy to get on the throne as Chan’s bride, but who was also blindly in love with him, to the point where she openly claimed how heartbroken she was to the news of his marriage to someone else.

In fact, she made so much fuss about it, it was all over the papers for several weeks prior to the actual wedding, and for some more after.

If she were a simple aristocratic woman with a shallow personality and nothing to her name but her family’s power, Aristia wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But she was far from superficial. Arabella’s family owned multiple businesses, she’s been involved in lots of charities, and has actively done a lot for the people.

Compared to the Empress, who’s done absolutely nothing ever since she came in power, Arabella shines like an expensive jewel indeed. The comparisons between them always end in a bad note for Aristia, and since she doesn’t have any support from her husband, the court ladies just get more and more brutal in their words and behaviour towards her.

Even the maids are having a field day with all the gossiping going around the Palace. So much so, that they’ve become brave. They sometimes even make Aristia trip in the hallways when she’s headed outside without her guard – for the man asked to monitor her no longer accompanies her everywhere – which resulted in more than one bruise on her forearms and chin.

However, these things don’t phase Aristia. She couldn’t care less about Chris or Arabella, about the court ladies and the maids’ mean words or ill behaviour, or the name-calling, or even about the fact that she’s not allowed to do any of her duties. She doesn’t care about any of that.

The only thing that truly cuts her heart open is her under-stimulated mind, due to the lack of access to the Royal Library. Even if she is Empress, a permit stamped by the Emperor Himself is needed to access the library, and so far, no matter how many times she’s tried submitting official requests, she hasn’t gotten any response. Her requests get denied over and over again.

This is what’s truly harsh on her. Ever since her younger brother was born, the only thing that helped her survive and keep her sanity was the access to books from all sorts of fields. Even when her father decided that she no longer needed any teachers, since now there was an actual Heir to their throne, and that her tutors’ efforts are better spent elsewhere, she still had books. Enough of them to study day and night, to get educated in geography, politics, history, biology, medicine, physics, mathematics, the continent’s languages, customs and so on. She read, read and read until her eyes were tired and her fingertips hurt from changing the pages; until her nose was runny from the dust on the books on the highest shelves, that people barely touched; until her back hurt from hunching.

She had books. Her only friends, companions, and lovers during her lonely teenage years.

And now she has nothing. Chris made sure of that.

The only words she can read are found in the newspapers, if Mari feels particularly kind during the day to bring her one. Even that is not too often, as Mari, just like everyone else, still hates Aristia’s guts, even months after serving her. Her baths are still cold, and her food is still a few days old, which more often than not results in Aristia skipping mealtimes entirely, and it shows: she’s lost weight and looks frail now, her cheeks a bit hollow, her appearance gaunt, her body weak.

And no one cares.

No one cares about her health, for she’s not needed. The Emperor doesn’t want to have a child with her, it seems, so even her medical check-ups have been neglected.

No one cares.

And neither does Aristia, if not for the lack of books.

She feels like she’s going insane. Her brain is rotting away. The first two months or so weren’t that difficult; she recited book after book in her head, remembering all sorts of information that’s unlikely to be useful in any situation. But still, it helped keep her sane.

Now, however, it’s getting harder and harder to remember any interesting information or recall anything of significance that she hasn’t thought over hundreds of times already. The Emperor is still ignoring her requests, or denying them immediately.

~

Enough is enough.

After pondering for a while, she eventually decides to simply head to Chan’s office and confront him about it. Ask him for a valid reason why he’s not paying any mind to her requests, why he’s denying her the only source of entertainment she needs to survive, for books are as vital as air to her.

She’s nervous, as she hasn’t seen him since their wedding night, but her resolve is absolute.

“Take me to the Emperor’s office.” She commands her guard, who looks shocked for a few seconds.

“But, Your Highness, in order to meet his Emperor, you might have to request an audience and-” He says hurriedly and she fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“You seem to have forgotten, but I am the Empress.” She cuts him off with a fake smile, her millionth ever since coming to the Empire.

It was getting tiring.

“So, what audience exactly do you suggest I should request?” She continues in a challenging manner with a tilt of her head.

The guard stumbles on his words and quickly bows and decides to show her the way.

In front of Chan’s office, a guard she doesn’t know bows respectfully as he sees the Empress approaching.

“Hello.” She smiles sweetly.

“Good day, Moon of the Empire.”

“Is my husband inside?” She asks, side-eying her personal guard, making sure he remembers she is still Empress.

She wonders why Lee Know and Changbin aren’t guarding the Emperor’s door this time, and at the thought of Changbin, she can’t help but compare him and her current guard; how much better he would be at taking care of her instead of the guard assigned to her.

More respectful, more obedient, more attentive. Perhaps she should request Chris to replace this guard with him as well, since she came here making demands anyway.

“Yes, Your Highness. The Emperor is indeed in his office, but there is an important meeting taking place.”

“Will you open the doors, or will you keep me waiting?” Aristia smiles again, but noticing the guard’s puzzled, unsure look, she decides to make life easier for him, and brushes past, placing her hands on the handles of the large doors herself.

She’s taking full advantage of the fact that she’s Empress, for no one but Chris can touch her without her permission, nor stop her in any way.

“Let me, Your Majesty.” The guard speaks, to her surprise, so she moves away and allows him to open the doors.

~

In Chan’s office, Seungmin, Han and the Emperor are discussing important matters, when they are rudely interrupted by the opening of the door.

“What?” The Emperor asks annoyed, raising his gaze from his papers, viciously eying the guard as if he were on a battlefield.

“Your Highness, my deepest apologies for disturbing you during such a busy time. I am aware you mentioned you shouldn’t be disturbed under any circumstances, however-”

“If you know, why come here?” Chris asks sharply, making the guard cower in fear.

“Her Highness the Empress is here to see you.”

Upon hearing these words, Chris raises his eyebrows in surprise and puts down the papers in his hands on the desk.

“Why?” He asks, the surprise in his voice barely audible. 

Before the guard has enough time to respond, Aristia enters the room with her head held high, the Empire’s crown laid beautifully on top of her hair. Her clothes are still shabby, though, and she wears no jewels, nor an intricate hairstyle, but her status is visible just through her immaculate posture and elegance.

She is of noble blood and Empress through and through, no matter how many people deny it.

“Hello, husband.” She smiles cunningly. “What a nice office you have.”

“Why are you here?” He replies instead, annoyed by her presence. The fact that she dared to speak first is a telltale sign of her position on the throne next to him, and he loathes it.

However, he can’t help but notice the burning in her eyes. He’s seen it before, and even though he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s something he truly admires about her.

“Just thought I’d pass by and see my dear husband, why else?” She smiles, then glances at Seungmin and Han who, despite the reluctance on their faces, bow respectfully.

“Well, you did. As you can see, I’m busy. See yourself out.” Chris answers coldly, then grabs the papers on his desk again and starts going through them, not paying any more attention to Aristia.

“I need to talk to you about a pressing matter.” She looks one more time at the two men standing next to Chan’s desk, who quickly look between each other and bow again, before excusing themselves.

Once they are out of the room, Chris sighs and looks at her again.

“Let’s hear it. What’s so important?”

“My library permit.”

“What about it?”

“You declined it. Again.” Aristia says and Chris just nods. This tells her he’s done it on purpose. “Why?”

“What do you need it for? Can you even read?” He mocks.

“No. I just enjoy looking at pretty books and their illustrations, and oh, the smell! Can’t forget the smell!” She exclaims dramatically, which makes Chan laugh briefly, before his face turns serious once more.

“There’s no need for you to get access to the library, since you don’t need to do any duties.”

“I don’t get it.” She crosses her arms, and he raises an eyebrow. “You brought me here, you married me. I didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t want me to do any of my duties? Fine, I won’t. But this is the only thing I’ve ever requested of you. Is it that difficult for you to grant me this one thing?”

“Yes.”

To that, Aristia no longer knows what to say. Her shoulders fall in defeat as she realises there is no way to change his mind. She’s tried communicating, but he, just like everyone else in this Empire, couldn’t care less about her.

“You try to act like an Empress, but look at you. What’s with your dress? Did you roll in mud before coming to see me?” He points to the slightly dirty hems, and Aristia can barely contain her bitter laugh.

“You tell me. This is what your servants dress me in.”

The Emperor falls silent for a moment, then returns to his papers.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Yes. I need you to reconsider.”

He sighs.

“If there’s nothing else, I’m quite busy.” He points towards the door without taking his eyes out of his papers, and Aristia feels defeated.

She turns around, disappointment weighing heavily on her heart.

It hurts.

She’s never asked for his love, not even for his approval. She doesn’t care that he wouldn’t accept her as an Empress, nor that no one else in the Empire does. All she wanted was access to some books, to keep her mind occupied, just as she’s always done.

But he won’t even grant her that.

~

It’s hard to contain her disappointment on the way back to her rooms, but she figures she can’t simply let this go. Living with no source of entertainment to stimulate her brain is the only thing she can’t do.

She thinks long and hard, and once she gets to her bedroom, she plops herself on the bed and thinks some more.

She is not allowed in the library, and her maid won’t bring her any books. She’s tried before. There is nothing to read but the newspaper that comes every few days, which she’s been collecting in a small pile on her desk.

That’s right. The desk.

Aristia suddenly stands up and runs towards her desk, rummaging through the few drawers. She finds a pen, but no ink or paper.

“Mari!” She calls to her maid, who enters the room seconds after with a respectful bow.

“Have you called, your Highness?”

“Bring me paper and some ink.”

“Would you like to write a letter? Should I also bring some envelopes and a wax seal?”

“There’s no need. Paper and ink will suffice.”

The maid nods once more and leaves the room annoyingly slow. Can’t she see that Aristia is in a rush?

She returns moments later with everything the Empress requested. Aristia wastes no time in asking her to get out and begins pouring out all her thoughts on the papers.

She writes, and writes, and writes, making up stories and inventing worlds. She creates characters, she lets them face all sorts of difficulties, but all of them come up successful in the end. Having knowledge of a wide range of subjects comes in handy when writing, she notices, as she is able to give that knowledge to her characters as well.

It turns out that writing is quite entertaining, and it takes up the whole day. It’s already dinner time when she reluctantly puts the pen down. To be honest, she’d much rather keep writing than eat dried salad leaves for the umpteenth time.

~

“Mari, no matter what my father asks you to do, please remember that you are to stay by my side the whole time. Even if he asks you to step out, you don’t. Is that clear?” Aristia dictates, looking at her maid’s face through the mirror. She is arranging her high neck corset, which she picked specifically because it’s hard to take off.

Just in case her father gets any ideas and asks her to strip for a beating, she’s taking all precautions. Chris has already informed her that he’s not interested in catering to her father the whole time he’s here, and that he’s only going to meet him during dinner time.

“Understood, Your Majesty.” Mari says with a neutral expression.

“I know we are not on the best of terms, but still… This is my only request to you. Please stay by my side.” Aristia pleads, hoping her tone didn’t come off as desperate as she is feeling. She shouldn’t plead. An Empress only commands, never asks, was what her mother's maid told her time and time again growing up.

However, she is in dire straits. This might be the only way to ensure she’s safe from her father. If the clothes do nothing to protect her, her maid’s gaze surely would. He wouldn’t hurt her if someone else were present.

She asked the same of her personal guard.

Looking at herself in the mirror one more time, she is pleased with her looks: her hair hangs beautifully on her shoulders, and she truly likes the way the little bow on her black skirt looks.

She places her crown steadily on her head and she is good to go.

Hesitantly, she steps out of her room and lets herself be guided towards the side of the palace destined for guests. Her father arrived just this morning, and he’s already asked for Aristia.

The anxiety rising in her stomach almost makes her want to throw up on the way to her father, and she’s never felt more tired. She doesn’t think she’s gotten more than a few hours of sleep you can count on one hand in the past week.

“My daughter!” Her father rises from his seat and hugs her. “I see you’re faring well! How have you been?”

His tone is friendly, his demeanour too, but Aristia knows it’s only a façade.

“Father, it’s good to see you after so long.” She hugs him back, the smell of alcohol already lingering all around them. “I’m doing well indeed. How are you? How are mother, sister and brother? It’s a shame they couldn’t join.””

The King starts talking about her half-brother, sharing all the details of his development with her.

He is showing off, Aristia thinks as she notices he wouldn’t stop talking about how smart and precious his son is, and about how good of a ruler he will turn out to be in a few years when he gets of age. He doesn’t say anything about his wife, and on the subject about her half-sister, he brushes her off, telling her simply that “She’s becoming more and more like you. Reckless, and too outspoken. Improper for a woman.”, which tells the Empress that he hasn’t changed one bit.

He talks and talks and talks, and more drinks are served. Aristia chooses to stick to tea, but her father is free of inhibitions. The alcohol keeps flowing as he has his glass emptied and refilled many times, and when he finally changes the subject hours later, Aristia starts expecting the worst.

“I appreciate that you’ve let me meet your close assistants, but still, I would like some time alone with my daughter.” He says with a smile.

“I don’t think that’s needed, father.” Aristia counters and smiles politely as well, looking intensely at her maid and guard. “It became quite late, and I’m afraid I must retire to my bedchambers.”

I hope you remember what I asked of you, her gaze says.

The King laughs and puts his hands on his belly. “Grown up daughters, always defying their parents!” He exclaims with another laugh; the atmosphere feels anything but relaxed. “Come on, my daughter, we haven’t seen each other in so long! Why the rush? You two better get out of the room so I can talk to my daughter alone, unless you want your heads served for dinner.”

The maid and guard share an unsure look between them as Aristia keeps sipping her tea.

Don’t go.

“Didn’t you hear me?!” The King shouts and hits the table with his fist, looking sharply at the two servants, who tremble and apologise with a bow, before departing the room.

All hope is lost.

Aristia looks lifelessly at Mari as she closes the door, and when their eyes make contact, the maid averts hers in shame.

“Persistent, these servants of yours.”

The Empress stays silent.

“Now that I’ve filled you in about life in the Kingdom, my daughter, it’s your turn to fill me in about your life here.”

“Well…” Aristia starts, her voice slightly trembling. She tries her hardest to control it, but it’s getting harder to let words out. “Everything is good here.”

“Is that so? How’s your relationship with the Emperor?”

“Oh, we get along great.” She lies through her teeth, in hopes that her father would believe it. If he knew she was valuable to Chris, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her, as that could potentially start the war her father wants to avoid at all costs.

War breaking out would put the Kingdom into disarray, as it would crash the economy. The soldiers are also no longer as brave and powerful as they used to be, so the battle would most likely be lost, along with the rights to the emerald mine.

“Oh, is that so?” Her father hums. “Because I’ve heard something completely different…”

Aristia freezes.

“Daughter, let me just ask you this one question. Has your marriage been consummated?”

She avoids looking at her father, as his rage boils more and more within.

“Answer me!” He shouts, and she cowers in fear.

“… Yes.” She lies again, hoping her father would buy it.

“You liar.” He replies in anger. “The rumours about how the Emperor doesn’t care for you have spread wide and far!”

“It’s not true!”

“You useless bitch! You dare lie to me again! You had one job, and you can’t even do that right!”

“What, is my only value determined on whether I sleep with him or not?!”

“Such an obvious thing to ask.” The King scoffs.

He sits up fuming and grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look at him. Her crown falls off on the floor, making a clinking sound as it rolls away.

“Is it that difficult to use that unsightly body of yours for what it was made?! You simply had to seduce him and give him a child or two, and he would never dare try to take the emerald mine away from us!”

He drags her away from the sofa by her hair as she pants heavily, the lump in her throat becoming impossible to swallow.

She’s scared.

She’s so scared.

Someone, please…

“Father, I am no longer a mere princess. I am Empress and what you are doing is-”

“Empress?!” He laughs. “You’re nothing! You’re only on that throne because I put you there, and you can’t even fulfil your duties as my daughter! Not only that, but you also talk back to me! Women these days, they can’t understand that their only purpose is to be silent and appease their man!”

He shouts some more, and Aristia wishes she asked Chris for permission to have Changbin as a personal guard instead of that useless nobody. Changbin would’ve never left the room like a coward.

He would’ve never left her, she thinks.

She wishes her maid listened to her, just this once. She’s never said anything about the shabby dresses, old food or cold bath water; the only thing she’s ever asked her maid was to not leave this room.

“Take off that shirt and turn around, you useless wench. You’re an excuse for a woman. Good for nothing!”

No one is coming.

Aristia starts trembling harder as her father grows impatient, turning her around himself. He starts untying the corset and curses a couple more times, before dragging the fabric of the dress down and uncovering her back completely.

She doesn’t know what he’s hitting her with, where he got it from, if it was on him the whole time.

A whip? A belt?

She can’t say for sure.

She winces in pain and covers her mouth so as not to scream. She knows her father would get angrier and hit her harder if she let out the slightest sound.

Desperate for something else to focus on, she turns her attention to the tiles under her and looks for anything uneven, or maybe a spot missed by a cleaner.

She doesn’t know how she got on the floor, but the tiles are cold under her.

Is this marble?

Her eyes keep searching, but there is not a single spot of dirt she can find. Nothing else to take her mind away from the abuse. She is forced to listen to every single curse word coming out of the King’s mouth, forced to feel every hit.

Her back hurts badly, it burns, and the lack of hope in her heart weighs heavy on her.

She sees her crown laying flat on the ground, and how amusing this looks. That crown didn’t protect her from anything. It didn’t give her anything.

She believed she was safe in the Empire. She hoped the title of Empress would grant her protection, and this hope only grew when she saw how disinterested Chris was in her.

But it turns out that all along, this sense of safety has been fake. As fake as the smiles of the court ladies when they would bow at her in the hallways.

It hurt, not belonging anywhere, not being safe, not being loved.

If you don’t have any of these, what point is there in living?

~

“Mari, do you think this is right…?” The guard asks the maid after they’ve just stepped out of the room.

“… I’m sure nothing bad is going to happen. It’s her family, what could go wrong?” The maid answers. However, she is anything but calm, and her voice is trembling as she replies. She didn’t obey her master, and if that was not bad enough, the look Aristia gave her made her blood run cold.

“She asked us to stay by her…”

“Well, why were you such a coward? You’re her guard. I’m a mere maid.” Mari retorts.

“He said he’d kill us. I say it’s better we left.”

“Yeah…” Mari says with an unsure nod, but something deep within her chest is tightening. She has a bad feeling about this, and with each passing moment, her anxiety is growing.

She starts running before she realises where she’s headed, and being in front of the Emperor’s office, she’s stopped by his two guards.

“What business do you have here?” Lee Know asks, eying the maid sharply.

“Please… I need to talk to His Majesty. He needs to go-”

“Hold on.” Changbin stops her. “Breathe a bit and explain it clearly. What’s wrong?”

“The Empress- we, we were asked to get out, and-”

“You’re not making any sense, girl.” Lee Know shakes his head.

“Please! Something’s definitely wrong! The only one who has enough authority to enter that room is the Emperor. Please!”

“What’s with all this ruckus?” Seungmin opens the doors to the Emperor’s office. “We are discussing an extremely important manner, and you-”

“Your Majesty!” The maid brushes past Seungmin and falls to her knees in front of Chan’s desk. “Please forgive my imprudence!”

“What is going on?” Chris asks sharply, and the maid cowers in fear. She broke several rules by coming here and speaking without being asked to, but the impending sense of doom in her heart forces her to keep acting rashly.

“It’s about her Majesty. The southern King threatened me and the guard to step out of the room, and as soon as we left, loud voices could be heard from the other side!”

“So, what point is there in disturbing me? You dare come here and interrupt an important discussion for a mere family dispute?”

“Your Highness, my apologies, but… something is definitely wrong. Her Highness has been on edge for the past week, and even more so this morning. Her only request was to not leave her alone with her father, and we failed to respect it. Please, I beg of you, go there and check if Her Highness is unharmed!”

Unharmed…? Chris raises an eyebrow.

“How imprudent of you to come here and interrupt our meeting for something so trivial.” Seungmin scoffs. “She must’ve been on edge because she didn’t gather any intel from us to report to the King, Your Highness.”

Chris nods at Seungmin’s words, but looking at Mari’s face, he grows anxious.

There’s probably no reason for him to feel this way, but he decides to listen to the maid’s words, and stands up.

“Fine. I shall pay my dear father-in-law a visit. Meeting’s dismissed.” He waves his hand in the air to Seungmin and Jisung and begins walking towards the guest rooms.

~

The doors open and Chris’ presence is announced in the room.

“If it’s not my son!” The King stands up from the sofa and heads to Chris, pulling him into a large hug. The first thing Chris notices is that he reeks of alcohol, and the second thing he notices is Aristia, who’s gripping her collar tightly, whose eyes are unfocused, who didn’t even move a muscle to at least look at him.

Something feels odd, and as he comes closer to sit down next to the girl, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

She’s trembling slightly, hanging onto her collar for dear life, and her eyes are red, slightly glossy. The crown is sitting weirdly on top of her head, and her hair is messy.

“Hey-” Chris begins, but Aristia cuts him off.

“Excuse me…” She says and gets up hastily, running out the door.

“Tsk. These girls have no manners. Apologies, my son. Seems like I’ve raised an improper daughter.” The King shakes his head in disapproval, but Chris finds it all odd. Still, he must entertain the King for a little while, so they begin talking.

~

“Your Majesty!” Mari exclaims as she sees Aristia and tries to grab her hand so she can apologise for not obeying her orders.

Aristia, however, slaps her hand away and doesn’t look at her.

“Draw me a bath and get out.” She commands as soon as they get to her room, and Mari nods and leaves hastily.

Aristia is hurt. Finally left alone, she throws the crown away as hard as she can, and her expression turns into a grimace as she’s wincing, small whimpers falling out of her lips.

She sits down and is trying to keep her body as stiff as possible, for if she relaxes even for a second, it would hurt so much more. The burning in her back is simply unbearable, and she’s feeling herself grow weaker.

She doesn’t even notice the time passing, but as her maid returns and informs her that the bath is ready, she figures out she’s been sitting on the floor for about 30 minutes without realising.

Getting up is agonising, as sharp pain shoots all-throughout her body with every move, but she manages to get to the bathroom and take off her clothes. Her white blouse is covered in red spots. She wonders how many lacerations she has, for them to leave such deep red marks, and she wonders how she’ll be able to treat them this time, without her father’s doctor, without alerting the whole Empire.

Once everyone knows Aristia doesn’t mean anything to her father, no one would support her any longer. As it stands now, she only has the support of the people tired by war; they love her because she represents the very peace symbol they so dearly wished for. But if she doesn’t mean anything to the Kingdom… she doesn’t have any value.

It hurts.

It hurts to not mean anything to anyone. To only be loved because you are able to give them something in return, not because you are an individual deserving of love.

It hurts.

Aristia doesn’t even know at this point if she is deserving of anything but this constant state of fear and anxiety.

She hops in the bathtub, preparing herself to face freezing cold waters, but is instead met with the perfect temperature.

She almost wants to laugh.

All this time, she’s been given cold water to bathe in, but now that her maid disobeyed her, she feels bad, so she finally gives Aristia a normal treatment, deserving of the Empress?!

The Empress. What a joke. Aristia starts laughing for real this time. She laughs and laughs and laughs, and tears begin falling as the laughter fades into more whimpers from all the pain she is feeling.

If only that pain was just physical.

She buries her body underwater and her head is soon to follow, and she just keeps it there for as long as possible, trying to not pay any mind to the burning of the cuts on her back, that is more intense than ever in contact with the water.

Despite the water being warm, she is freezing cold, and trembling. She tries to not dwell on anything; not on her feelings, not on the shivering, not on the pain – and instead focuses on her past habit.

All the practice these past months to hold her breath has been proven useful. She can now be underwater for more than 5 minutes without feeling the need to breathe.

Once her head raises to the surface, she dips it back in immediately. She doesn’t want to be outside of the water’s warmth, for that would make her cry again and think about how shit her life is, and she doesn’t think she'd be able to stand it.

~

Chris goes to the sofa to sit down. He immediately notices the golden crown of the Empress on the floor, and with a frown, he stands up to pick it up. However, not even a few seconds later, a blood-curdling scream alerts him that something is wrong, so he runs to the source immediately.

He enters the bathroom with haste and the first thing he sees is the maid frantically pulling Aristia out of the bathtub. The water is blood-red, and he is as alerted as the maid as he comes closer and sees the source of the blood: the Empress’ back.

The moment he sees all the cuts and bruises on her back, his insides begin boiling with anger. He helps the maid take her out of the water and cover her with a large white towel.

Aristia seems lethargic, and she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t focus her eyes on him or on the maid, and her body is so incredibly cold, he shivers to the touch.

Chris takes her in his arms while he commands the maid to get the doctor quickly, and he brings her to the bed, laying her down gently with her back up.

He is hesitant to pull the towel and uncover her, but he needs to do it to assess the damage the King has done. All the lacerations he sees are deep, and he wonders how many times he’s hit her.

Moments later, Hyunjin enters the room hastily, followed by Changbin, Lee Know, Jisung and Seungmin, and as they see the state the Empress is in, they become speechless.

“All of you, get out!” Chris commands harshly, and they don’t waste any time to offer them privacy.

Hyunjin carefully approaches the bed.

“This looks so painful… are you in a lot of pain, Your Highness?” He asks, almost in a whisper, but she fails to reply. “I will clean your wounds first, which will hurt, but afterwards I will apply a calming salve and bandage everything, and it will feel so much better, I promise.”

Chris watches from a distance how Hyunjin carefully cleans each and every cut with a clean cloth and water, and how every time the cloth touches her skin, Aristia winces in pain and whimpers, turning her head away so that no one sees her cry.

When he cleans the deeper wounds, she buries her head in the pillow and cries harder, clenching the sheets with her fists and shivering.

Hyunjin keeps a frown on his face the whole time, and in-between cleaning the wounds, he pauses briefly before breathing deeply and reassuring Aristia that everything will be alright. He sometimes tries asking her questions, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she focuses on holding her breaths, and on Hyunjin’s soothing voice, hoping it will take the pain away.

It takes a while until Hyunjin thoroughly cleans and disinfects every wound. When he’s done, he grabs his bag and pulls out a reverse cutting needle and some silk thread.

“There are some wounds that are in need of suture, Your Highness.” He informs Aristia.

“… Alright.” She whispers softly.

“I am truly sorry. I wish we could’ve numbed the area in some way so that you wouldn’t feel any pain.”

“Don’t worry. Thank you.” She replies in a voice just as soft as previously and grips the sheets again, even tighter than before.

Her knuckles turn white as she is waiting for Hyunjin to finish his work. He’s moving fast at least, and when he’s done, he applies the calming salve which cools down her back, the pain now a bit more bearable.

“I need you to sit up so I can bandage you…” He says and turns his back with a flush of his cheeks. Chris comes next to the bed and offers Aristia help, but she disregards him completely and sits up on her own, covering her chest with her right hand.

Hyunjin then turns around and bandages her whole upper body, walking Aristia through everything he’s doing.

“We will have to change these bandages every day, and when we do, we will reapply the salve for pain management.” He says. “It would be best to rest for the time being, to avoid reopening the wounds.”

“I see.” Aristia replies weakly, lying back down on the bed on her right side, facing away from Chris and Hyunjin.

She is growing more and more depressed and hopeless with each passing moment, and she doesn’t understand why she should fight to be alive when everyone wants her gone.

“Then, we’ll let you rest.” Chris says and shows Hyunjin outside. Before he steps out the door, he hears her start speaking weakly.

“How were you planning to get rid of me? Kill me somehow? Maybe poison?”

“What?” Chris turns around, shocked.

“If so, just hand it over now. Slip it in my tea in front of my eyes and I’ll drink it gladly.”

He shakes his head even if she is not able to see him, and leaves without another word.

~

“How bad is it, Jinnie?” Chris asks, his eyes darkened. “Will it scar?”

“I’m afraid so. Especially the bigger ones. She has so many faded marks on her back, I wonder how many times she’s been through this.”

“I can’t believe her own father would do something like that… That bastard.”

“Yeah… it must be so painful. I feel sorry for her.”

“Mhm. Thanks for treating her, Jinnie. I’ll count on you to make her better.”

Hyunjin leaves with a short bow and Chan turns around to see Lee Know and Changbin staring at him.

“What’s up?”

“Your Majesty…” Changbin starts with a long breath. “… What happened to her?”

“As you might have heard from my conversation with Hyunjin, it appears her father is not only a monster to us, but to his own daughter as well.”

Lee Know lets his head fall down, while Changbin clenches his fists.

“What are you going to do about this?” Lee Know asks.

“Nothing.” Chan shrugs. “War might break out if we-”

“Your Majesty!” Changbin exclaims loudly, getting into Chan’s face, and Lee Know begins pulling him back.

From the corner of his right eye, Chris spots someone, so he signals him to come.

“Your Highness, I apologise for my lowly behaviour.” Aristia’s guard gets down on his knees and bows low.

“I bet you are, you fucking coward-” Changbin starts, wanting nothing more than to punch the guard square in the face. However, Lee Know pulls him back once more, and Chris begins talking.

“Enough. Lee Know, Changbin, go send the King’s guards away and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. He’s caused enough problems for today. And you,” he turns to the guard, “get up and guard Aristia. Let no one enter the room besides her maid, Hyunjin or I. Is that clear?”

Changbin bites his tongue back. He wants to ask Chris how he can trust that man to take care of her, when he’s abandoned her so conveniently earlier, but he can’t cross him in front of a subordinate, so he holds back.

~

The next morning, Chris visits Aristia and has breakfast with her. He tries to initiate small talk, to talk to her about anything, but her eyes are unfocused, and she’s not even touching the fork. Her shoulders are slouched, she looks tired, and she’s extremely pallid.

“Is the food not to your liking?” He asks with a worried face, but she doesn’t even look at him. In their brief interactions, she’s always challenged him, but now… it’s like that light sparkling in her eyes has faded away, and any fight she had in her is gone.

Although he comes back for lunch and dinner, the scene repeats itself, and he’s getting worried. Maybe he should let Felix see her, after all, and that might make her feel better.

He sits down at her desk and waits for her to fall asleep, the storm within his chest ravishing everything inside of him, and he feels utterly powerless faced with this situation.

What should he do?

What is the best course of action?

He didn’t want to make any decisions the previous night, when his anger was fresh, but now, he knows he has to do something. All the muscles in his body are screaming at him to go knock some sense into the King, but he can’t be rash.

Chris is deep in thought when he hears Aristia’s even breathing, and he knows she’s finally fallen asleep. He stands up, and then he sees the drawers of her desks and remembers something.

Carefully, he pulls out a small golden key from his pocket. He found it in the King’s room, the chain tied to it broken, and he picked it up and was meaning to return it to the Empress. He puts it on the desk, on top of a library pass he’s issued with her name on it, and then glances once more at the drawers.

“She keeps them locked in her drawers and carries the key at all times around her neck.” He remembers her maid saying, and he gets curious.

What type of stories are you writing? He wonders, glancing up to the sleeping girl, and decides to invade her privacy one more time. He unlocks the drawer as quietly as he can, taking out the first few papers he sees, and begins reading.

He reads of marvellous adventures in fantasy lands, of strong and bright individuals who bring change wherever they go. Every character in her stories is blessed with a strong light inside of them that shines brightly, with remarkable skills that help them overcome every difficult predicament.

Chris looks one more time at Aristia as he puts everything back in the drawer and leaves the key on the table. He realises that she always seemed to have that fighting spirit of her characters in her before, but now, she looks completely defeated.

It all becomes clear now. Even if he disregarded her as his bride, his behaviour towards her has been completely unwarranted. The moment she stepped foot in the Empire and married him, she was no longer part of the Kingdom. She became one of his people, and he’s failed to protect her.

He’s failed as the Emperor, and he’s not one bit better than her father, the King of the South.

However, there is still time to amend, time to do something to help her heal the pain in her heart, and he lets the boiling anger consume him for the first time in his life.

~

Huh… did I fall asleep? Aristia opens her eyes slowly and glances around the room. No one is sitting at her desk anymore, and she wonders when the Emperor decided to leave.

It’s a struggle to get up, for her empty stomach hurts and she’s nauseous, but she does it either way and tries her hardest to not wince in pain with every step she takes. Her back hurts again, the calming effect of the salve long gone hours ago.

There are no stars in the sky tonight; the sky is grey, covered in rain clouds she is only able to see due to the thunders that light everything up every now and then.

As she steps away from the balcony and approaches her desk, she notices the glimmer of her key, and she instinctively pats around her neck, only to find it’s missing.

She hasn’t even noticed it’s been missing, that’s how out of it she’s been ever since she got beaten black and blue by her father.

Next to the key, a small card that reads Library pass – Empress in golden letters glistens in the dim light of her room.

She almost wants to laugh.

She’s been begging for this for months, and only now is the Emperor generous enough to offer her the one thing she’s asked for.

Right, the Emperor.

Aristia realises that she needs to come to terms with the fact that she’s on her own, that the Emperor doesn’t and won’t give a shit about her, nor will anyone else. That’s why she’s been treated so badly her whole life. That’s what apparently happens when you’re on your own: people step on you, and you can’t do anything about it.

No one loves her.

Not even her father - her own family. The same father who hit her mercilessly for years.

She can’t believe that not even the highest title in the Empire a woman could attain was able to protect her from her father. Nothing is able to protect her. The only person who could… doesn’t care about her to do so.

She remembers how she felt when her father was hitting her, how the realisation that no one would come cut her deeper than any blade, and she figures it out, finally. She must accept once and for all that she is on her own, and that no one will ever protect her. No one.

Yes, that’s right. She knows that now.

She only has herself. She can only count on herself, and no one else will ever love her.

The only one who can save her is herself, and she has a cruel realisation: she is faced with only two choices:

One, she has to accept this merciless destiny. She will never be more than a puppet everyone easily discards as soon as they are tired playing with her, and she will suffer greatly. First, by her father’s hands, and soon enough, by her husband’s, who’s been probably planning her demise ever since he sent that marriage proposal to the Kingdom.

Or two… she takes up arms and she gets revenge on everyone who’s ever wronged her. But how? In order to do so, she needs power.

Power? She starts laughing out loud like a mad woman. Why would she even need that to stand up to her father? It would be so easy to get rid of him, if only it wouldn’t start a war.

War? She laughs again, as a sudden realisation rushes over her, as if all her feelings disappeared, but the seething anger deep in her soul.

Screw everyone else. Screw the Kingdom, screw the Empire, screw her husband, and more than anything, screw her father.

He doesn’t deserve to see the light of tomorrow’s day.

It’s like a light bulb turns on in Aristia’s head, and she no longer cares about anything.

Peace? The people of this Empire? The people of the Kingdom?

Who cares about any of that?

No one was fucking there when she needed them to protect her, so why would she protect them?

She gets out of her room and startles her guard, who immediately gets on his knees and apologises.

“Stand up.” She commands, and as soon as he does, she extends her hand towards him.

Confused, the guard looks at her with a slight tilt of his head.

“Your sword.” She looks directly at his scabbard, and he instantly puts his hand on it, as if protectively.

“Your Majesty… you wouldn’t…” The guard starts, his eyes getting watery, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m not going to slain you, although you deserve nothing less.” She smiles insincerely.

“Then… what do you wish to do with this sword?”

“How dare you question me?” She lets out a horrifying chuckle, and once their eyes meet, the guard freezes in his spot. “After how cowardly you’ve acted, the least you can do is follow my commands without barking back.”

As soon as the words leave her lips, the guard bows and pulls out his sword, giving it to her.

“Good boy. Now, stay here and don’t make any sound. Wait for your master to come back, like a good dog would.”

She starts walking towards the guest rooms, dragging the sword after her on the marble floors.

It’s way heavier than she imagined, and her body is extremely weak. Still, she will definitely be able to wield it against her drunk father’s throat in his sleep. That much she can do.

Once she reaches his door, she’s surprised to see Lee Know and Changbin in front of it. Her gaze drops, but still, she is their Empress, and they must obey her.

“Good evening.” She smiles sombrely.

“Your Highness, what are you doing here at this hour?” Changbin asks, his eyes wide as he sees Aristia in a white, almost see-through nightgown, dragging the sword with her left hand.

“I could ask you the same.” She answers. “Is my father inside?”

“Yes, he is.”

Lee Know eyes her sharply but doesn’t say a word.

“Changbin, open the door, will you? I want to have a little chat with my father.”

“Your Highness, you are carrying a sword-” he starts, but Lee Know puts his hand on Changbin’s chest and stops him from talking.

With a slight bow, Lee Know opens the doors, and as soon as Aristia is able to see inside, her eyes grow wide.

“DAUGHTER! MY DAUGHTER! YOU’VE COME TO SPARE ME!” The King screams and begins crawling towards her, leaving a blood trail under him.

His right hand is cut off, and he’s desperately clenching a dagger with his left hand, but he looks ridiculous and small. The absurdity of the situation almost makes her laugh again, as she can’t believe she’s been scared of this little, pathetic man.

On the big armchair right next to the King, Chris is cleaning off his sword with an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh, you came too?” He asks Aristia, who’s staring in shock at the sight. “Ah, look at this worm crawling and dirtying my floors. Tsk.” He says with disgust and stands up from the chair, stepping on the King’s back to stop him from moving any further.

“You little…” The King starts, but Chris just shakes his head.

“I hope you were not trying to touch my precious wife again, were you?”

“I really… didn’t know… you have a good… relationship. You didn’t even… sleep with her…”

“How is that any of your concern? How dare you hurt your own daughter, hm?” He steps on his back with more force, and the King starts coughing. Then, he steps on his hand and forces him to let go of the dagger.

“I… I’m so sorry, Aristia. My daughter. I was wrong. Forgive me.”

“Tsk. Not even a please? It’s your life at stake, King. Still hanging onto that useless pride?” Chris mocks, then looks at Aristia and chuckles. “Besides, look at your precious daughter, she was ready to come and end your pathetic life herself.”

As he says this, Aristia’s sword falls out of her hand and slams on the marble floors. The sound it makes rings in her head repeatedly, even seconds after.

“Want to give him the final blow? Here, take this, it’s way lighter than that sword.” He hands her the small dagger on the floor, and as she picks it up, she notices it’s stained with blood.

“Why are you doing this?” She asks Chris, looking into his dark eyes.

“Why?” He tilts his head. “He dared hurt my wife, the Empress of this Empire, in her own home, at that! Do you think he deserves any mercy?”

“Your wife…?” Aristia hugs herself and looks away. She doesn’t want her heart to flutter, or to feel anything but disgust. These are mere words, and Chris is just putting on a show in front of her father.

“Mhm. My wife.” He replies quietly and brushes his fingers against her cheek. They stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments before the King’s groans distract them.

“Please…” he begs. “I beg of you, spare me this one time…”

“Give me one reason not to kill you. One convincing enough for both me and the Empress.”

“War… war will break out if I die.”

“I assume both of us were already aware of that possibility when we decided to come to your room tonight.” Chris grins. “Not good enough.”

He grabs Aristia’s hand and puts his fingers on the dagger, silently conveying that if she doesn’t want to do it herself, she doesn’t have to. She slowly lets go of the dagger and lets it fall in Chan’s hands, but as he turns around, she grabs his wrist to stop him.

He looks back at her and he’s expecting to see weakness or hesitation, but instead, he’s met with the most burning pair of eyes he’s ever seen before. She bends down and grabs the sword that’s fallen from her hands moments prior and channels up all her force to deliver one final blow right through her father’s chest.

He’s dead.

He’s finally dead.

~

Chris escorts Aristia back to her room in silence. Her anxiety is slowly rising in her chest.

What if this is exactly what he wanted – for her to kill her father, so that he has a reason to drive her away, to murder her with no repercussions?

That way, he’d get rid of the King as well, putting all the blame on her. He’d send her back to the Kingdom where she’d be executed for treason, which would give him enough time to put his hands on the emerald mine.

All his enemies, gone at once.

Did I fall right in his trap? Aristia bites her nails, a bad habit showing her nervousness. They taste like blood.

But… how would’ve Chris known I decided to kill my father?

He couldn’t have.

“Well, then, you should get changed and rest well.” Chris says once they reach Aristia’s room and turns around to leave. “And you-” he looks at her guard that’s kneeling down in front of the door, “-stand up. This is unsightly.”

She grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Can you… come in?”

“What for?”

“I need to talk to you…”

Confused, he nods and follows her inside. They both stand awkwardly in front of the sofa, unsure if they should sit down, and the sight is quite gruesome, as they are both covered in the King’s blood.

“What is it you want to tell me?” He asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Are you… planning to kill me?” She replies with a blunt question. There’s no point in beating around the bush.

“No.” He denies immediately. “Not anymore.”

“Then, to send me back?”

“After you’ve just killed your father?” Chris chuckles coldly.

“You’d get rid of me easily.” She says quietly, forcing the words out of her mouth. Frankly, she is scared she’s given him the idea if he hadn’t thought of it already.

“I won’t send you back.” He answers just as quietly.

“I see.”

Silence befalls them once more for a few short moments, while Aristia tries to make sense of Chan’s conflicting actions. He hasn’t paid her any mind until now, but ever since he found out that her father beat her, his behaviour towards her changed drastically.

“Well, if there’s nothing else-”

“This will start a war.” She cuts him off, and they stare at each other again.

“I know.”

“So then, why? You married me to avoid the war, and now…”

“Weren’t you ready to start one yourself, Aristia?” He asks, and it’s the first time she’s ever heard him say her name. Her heart flutters again, despite her inner protests.

“The Empire… has never once protected me, so… I decided I don’t care to protect it either.” She looks away after the confession, aware of the implications behind her words.

“Fair enough.”

“… What?” She asks with confusion, looking back at him. She didn’t expect him to agree with her motives.

“You heard me. Although I doubt you don’t care about the people.” He averts his gaze briefly. “I also had a selfish reason for visiting the King tonight.”

“… Care to elaborate?”

“When I saw the state you were in… I just couldn’t let this pass. It’s the least I owe you as your husband.”

“My husband.” She chuckles bitterly. “You’ve never once been a husband to me, Chris.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t.”

She involuntarily holds her hands together, keeping her fingers as tight as possible in her hold, so as not to fidget. She breathes in and holds her breath, which is somewhat relaxing.

It helps her stop any unwanted thoughts, and she wishes she were underwater.

“Although it might not be my place to tell you this… Aristia, don’t let anyone harm that spark in you. Not the Empire, not your father, not me… It’s all you’ve got, and it’s far too beautiful to let it fade away. Stay strong, be true to your title as the Empress.”

With these words, Chris starts walking towards the door, before turning around for the last time.

“Felix will eat with us starting tomorrow morning. I can’t keep him away from you any longer.”

“What about-”

“Don’t worry about the war. We will be prepared.” He cuts her off and nods assuringly, before opening the door.

Aristia doesn’t know how to feel about this short talk with Chris. She puts her right hand on her chest and feels her heart beating abnormally fast, realising that tonight, Chris has acknowledged her as his wife and the Empress for the first time.

“Wait!” She exclaims and follows him in a rush, bumping her palm against the door and closing it again.

Chris turns around and looks at her, and in the slight glimmer coming from outside, what he notices the most is the burning in her eyes. It’s back, stronger than ever before, and he’s relieved to see something familiar on her face, instead of the dreadful emptiness in her expression.

His heart skips a beat.

“Yes?”

“There are a few things… I still want to tell you.”

Chris nods and waits for her to speak. Her back is on fire again, she feels like crying, but she chokes back the sobs and doesn’t allow them to pass between her lips.

“I want Changbin to be my personal guard.”

“Changbin?” Chris widens his eyes in surprise. “Why?”

“I trust him.”

“… I will think about it.”

“My father’s army… I know a lot about it... Just enough to lead you to victory with the fewest losses.”

Chris widens his eyes again. This information would be crucial for a good outcome of the upcoming war, and he wants to hear more.

“What do you know about it?” He wants to thread carefully, but he doesn’t realise the Empress is just as cautious.

She chuckles briefly.

“Should I simply tell you? What’s in it for me? You confessed to planning to kill me mere minutes ago.”

“And I also added that I’m not planning it anymore, if I recall correctly.”

“Maybe not with your own hands, but everyone in this Empire hates me, including your two advisors who are probably plotting my demise right as we speak.”

“I guarantee you nothing will happen to you. I give you my word.”

“How much does your word weigh, though?” Aristia scoffs. “You vowed during our wedding to love, cherish, and protect me no matter what. So far, none of your vows were respected. You said it yourself. You were never a husband to me.”

“Neither were yours. In sickness and in health, I will stand by your side. With all that I am and all that I have, I pledge my loyalty and my love to you.” Chris scoffs as well.

“You didn’t give me any chance to get close to you. You’ve put up your barriers and thought of me as your enemy since day one.” She comes closer to him.

“I had no idea we shared an enemy instead, Aristia. Truly. I thought you were a spy.”

“You didn’t even ask me anything. You dead bolted me.”

“How could I have trusted you? You are the daughter of my enemy.” Chris frowns.

“I don’t know. How can I trust you now, then? You are a man who hates me for simply being born as a princess of the enemy kingdom.”

“… I assume you can’t.”

“Why did you marry me, anyway?” Aristia scoffs again, but quickly shakes her head and begins talking again. “My father tried to prevent me all my life from living outside of my room’s walls. What he couldn’t do, though, was make me stay away from interesting things and become knowledgeable in lots of different areas.”

“You did mention you read a lot about the sugar canes…”

“A mere 15-year-old girl should have no business knowing everything about a Kingdom’s military strategy. But I did. After my father beat me till I bled and left me on the floor barely conscious, I heard the commander of his troops and him talking. For years, this has been at least a monthly occurrence, Chris. They thought I couldn’t hear them, and that even if I did hear them, that I wasn’t smart enough to know what they meant anyway.”

Chris looks away briefly before letting his eyes fall back on Aristia’s.

“But if I was blessed with something, it was intelligence. I know everything about my father’s military, all about their strategies, the approximate number of soldiers they have, how they plan to strike back in case you attack them for the emerald mine. It’s valuable information to you and to the Empire, and I’m willing to share it with you.”

“…What do you want in return, then? If my word that you’ll be safe from now on is not enough…” He shifts, which causes them to be even closer.

His eyes get stuck on hers as he sees that bright burning once more, and he involuntarily moves his right hand, resting it on her neck. To his surprise, she leans into his touch.

“I want to be a proper Empress. I want power. I want you to let me do my job, because I’m rotting away here, and I honestly can’t do it anymore.”

“I gave you a library pass, though. You can get right back to your passion for books.”

“That library pass might’ve made the foolish woman that only cared to lead a quiet life away from the world’s gaze somewhat happy. But you see, Chris?”

She raises her right hand, touching the blood-stained gold emblems of the Empire embroidered on his shirt. She rubs it with her thumb, watching it get back its shine, reflecting her image.

For the first time in her life, she feels confident, even though she’s in front of the most powerful man on the continent. She is surprised to find his eyes no longer holding contempt at the sight of her. Instead, they seem fascinated.

Their proximity is close enough to feel each other’s breaths. Their eyes are silently fighting, their lips are so close, they’re almost touching, and Aristia’s hand lays comfortably on Chan’s broad chest.

“Months ago, it would’ve been enough. But for the woman I am today, it falls short. I am sick and tired of being a fake, a replaceable thing in the Empire’s eyes. Either make me a true Empress and use my help, or go fight this war completely blinded and lose all the men you have. For all I care, you and the Empire can go straight to hell. I have no reason to protect any of you anymore.”

With these harsh words, Aristia separates herself from Chris and turns around, signalling that she said everything she wanted, but he is not willing to let it go like this. He grabs her wrist and turns her around, pulling her body into his, and keeps her close.

His right hand finds her neck again, and lifting her head, she notices they are even closer than before, which she didn’t think was possible.

“What use do I have of you as my Empress, hm?” Chris whispers, cupping her left cheek with his hand. “My advisors are good enough in handling the bookkeeping and the budget, as well as managing the staff and making sure they look out for any suspicious patterns in the noble’s activities. With such competent people, what would I do with you?”

“And here I thought the military tactics of your most powerful enemy is enough.”

“What you’re saying is, you want the Empress’ duties as your reward for trading information with me?” Chris chuckles. “You really are clever, I’m gonna give you that.”

“I’d say you should decide quickly. You won’t be able to hide my father’s death for long.” Aristia continues challenging Chris, but if she was able to keep strong so far, her body is now giving up on her.

The pain in her back is once again unbearable, and the fact that she hasn’t eaten in days is making itself known in the weakness she feels. Her knees are almost giving out.

She has to keep strong for only a few more moments.

It’s getting hard to breathe. It’s suffocating, even. And who thought keeping your eyes open would be so difficult?

She instinctively raises her hands to grab onto Chris as her body is finally succumbing to darkness, and she falls unconscious.

Chris is quick to take her in his arms, picking her up.

“You’re all talk.” He chuckles softly.

He couldn’t deny the newfound admiration for her. She demanded something from him, confronted him, and even proved she could be useful to him.

He was willing to give in to her demands from the moment she mentioned she wanted to be a real Empress, but it was fun to keep her engaged, to challenge her some more.

If only he realised how weak she still is, he would’ve not pushed her as hard tonight.

Still, perhaps it was better that she collapsed. It would force her to finally get the rest she so desperately needs.

~

“I humbly salute the Moon of the Empire.” Hyunjin bows respectfully. “How are you feeling, Your Majesty?”

“Hyunjin… I need help.” She whispers, the façade that she’s strong slowly slipping away from her expression. “The pain is unbearable…”

“We should’ve changed your bandages in the morning, but His Highness ordered us not to disturb you and let you rest instead…”

“That’s fine. Just… please do it now.” She turns around and begins taking off the dress.

Hyunjin grabs a chair and places it before the bed, instructing Aristia to sit down on her knees on the bed while he carefully takes the bandages off.

“You seem rather frail.” He remarks while disinfecting the wounds again. “You should eat more, otherwise you might have trouble conceiving.”

Aristia decides not to comment on this matter any further. It’s not like she has any intention of conceiving. Chris doesn’t care about her enough to bed her, and she can’t remember the outcome of their conversation last night.

“How are my wounds?” She decides to ask instead.

“Most of them seem to be healing.”

“They are really painful today.”

“Some of them appear to have reopened. You ought to be more careful if you don’t want to keep seeing me every day for the next few months.” He replies, and Aristia starts to chuckle.

It doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to fix her wounds, but he is more demanding of her maid regarding what she is to wear.

Nothing tight, no corsets, no harsh fabrics.

She’s only allowed light garments made of silk, and she ends up looking like she stepped out of her room in a nightgown.

She is escorted by her usual guard, although Aristia remembers clearly asking Chris to give Changbin to her. It appears that he didn’t care of her requests once again, which sends a slight pang through her heart.

Her guard is still unable to look her in the eyes.

Good. She thinks.

She continues walking towards the gardens and wonders why they couldn’t have taken dinner elsewhere instead of in the greenhouse. The way to the gardens is not particularly long, but some of the court ladies’ rooms are in the way, which inevitably means that she’d have to deal with them.

She raises her head and keeps walking, not wanting to entertain the ladies at all, but as she passes next to them, she suddenly feels her leg stop in something, and the next thing she knows, she’s on the floor.

Her back starts burning immediately, and the crown falls off her head and rolls on the floor.

As if this is a joke, it stops right at the Emperor’s feet, who picks it up and examines it for a few seconds before beginning to move towards the women, who haven’t yet noticed his presence.

“Your Majesty!” Her useless guard exclaims, trying to help her stand back up, but it’s hard to focus on his words when some of her wounds are probably reopened by now.

It hurts.

“Oh my! Your Highness! Are you able to stand?!” A woman asks, as if shocked. Aristia refuses any help and stands up on her own, dusting off her dress, listening to all the court ladies’ laughs.

She then looks at the girl who most likely tripped her, and she recognises her.

What was her name again…?

Arabella…?

She can barely remember, as she hasn’t thought of her in a long while.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.” Aristia replies blandly, without forcing herself to show an insincere smile this time. What point is there in any courtesy, when this girl just tripped her, and everyone else is laughing at her?

Immediately, all the court ladies stop their laughter and start bowing, and as she turns around, she sees Chris right behind her.

She bows her head shortly and thinks about how embarrassing she must’ve looked on the floor. Thankfully, the pain in her back seems to mostly keep her away from any further thoughts on the matter.

“What happened? Arabella?” Chris turns to the girl, and Aristia knows it’s checkmate for her. She remembers clearly how infatuated with each other they both looked during her wedding night, the cunning smile Arabella gave her when she turned around, and the blush creeping in Chan’s cheeks when she looked at him.

No matter what truly happened, he will trust Arabella’s word over hers. She’s also from a powerful family of the Empire, and she was supposed to be his bride.

“Her Majesty happened to trip, and we were just trying to help her.” Arabella replies, and all the court ladies start nodding.

“Oh, is that so?” He looks at Aristia, who stays there expressionless. She doesn’t agree nor disagree, for it doesn’t matter. Saying anything would just make her lose more energy, so she keeps to herself.

He already believes Arabella, so why would she even try to-

“Because I’ve seen something completely different. You do know that for any affront to Her Highness the Empress, you could be executed, right?”

“Wh-what?” Arabella’s eyes go wide, but Aristia’s go even wider.

“However, you might be happy to know that Her Highness is a really kind woman. Thus, she would probably agree with me to not have you executed this time. Isn’t that right, Aristia?”

“… Yes.” She replies.

“Th-thank you.” Arabella starts bowing respectfully, and all the court ladies are confused by Chan’s demeanour. They all thought Arabella was his favourite, especially after talks of their marriage began spreading around the Capital sometime last year, before Aristia came in the picture.

“However,” he starts again, “this is not something that can be overlooked, is it?” He turns his eyes to Aristia again, who just watches him in shock.

“Your Majesty-” Arabella tries to speak, but Chris cuts her off.

“You shall pack your bags and move to Count Eckard’s estate. I hear he needs some help over there, and a lady as knowledgeable as you would surely make the South more prosperous.”

Count Eckard?

Aristia tries to think where she’s heard that name before.

This is a count living at the far south border, hundreds of kilometres away from here.

Chris is essentially banishing Arabella from the Capital… for her. The same Arabella, who’s apparently lived her whole life here, with whom he shared intimate looks at their wedding.

Was it all in her head?

He turns to Aristia and places the crown steadily on her head, smiling at her.

“Let’s go. Felix is waiting for us.” He places a hand firmly on her back, and the contact immediately makes her wince. He is quick to notice and retract his hand, letting it hover a few centimetres in front of her back instead.

All of a sudden, he leans in, whispering in her ear.

“Biting your tongue back doesn’t suit you.”

And with that, they continue walking together to the gardens, with neither mentioning anything else about what just transpired.

~

The gardens are as beautiful as ever, and once they get there, Felix excitedly greets Aristia, who smiles back at him, and they engage in some pointless dialogue as the food is served.

Her back is still burning.

Everything smells delicious, and Aristia can already picture the taste her steak will have as it will melt in her mouth.

It looks that good, and she is so hungry, her stomach almost grumbles at the sight.

She cuts a piece of her steak and puts it in her mouth, but immediately, something is wrong.

She knows that some people still dislike her, that they wish she wouldn’t have come here to marry Chris, that they still view her as an outsider, an enemy; however, she never expected them to show such outright disrespect right in front of the Emperor and the Prince.

Her steak is so salty, it is simply impossible to eat.

“How is the food? Delicious, no?” Felix asks excitedly, and Aristia smiles back and simply nods two times.

She takes a bite of the salad, hoping she can at least consume that, but to her dismay, even the salad has been tampered with: it has too much vinegar, making it too acidic and unpleasant on her taste buds.

She watches Felix and Chris eat their steaks and salads as they talk about politics, and since no one is paying any attention to her, she quietly places her fork and knife on the table and hopes she can excuse herself to her room quickly, to accept Mari’s offer of serving her soup. She regrets not taking her up on it earlier. Some soup in her stomach would’ve made everything a bit better, perhaps.

The hunger is ravaging her stomach, her head hurts, and her back – God, her back is on fire.

She should’ve eaten something in the past few days. She should’ve-

“Is there something wrong with your meal?” Chris asks, pulling Aristia out of her thoughts. She didn’t notice he began looking at her.

“No.” She denies quickly, shaking her head, and begins lying through her teeth. “I just don’t have an appetite.”

“Aristia.” He replies sternly, and Felix’s face falters.

“Yes?”

“Hyunjin said you have to eat more. Please eat.”

“Yes, sister. You’re really frail. I mean, you look beautiful, but… I think it might be good for you to eat a bit more. You said you liked the food.” Felix chimes in with a frown. He thinks he’s helping, but he isn’t realising how bad her food is tasting, and she doesn’t want to say anything about it. People already hate her.

So, Aristia smiles briefly and reassures Felix that the food is great, and cuts another piece of steak, but as she lifts it to her mouth, she hesitates.

She doesn’t want to eat it.

Is there any way around it? She wonders, looking at Chris and Felix, who are both watching her attentively.

She tries to hold her breath as she reluctantly puts the piece in her mouth, but as she chews it, she can’t help but grimace. She wants to spit it out immediately but forces herself to swallow.

“You’re lying to me.” Chris starts. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Aristia.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

Aware that they’re not going to get anywhere like this and slightly annoyed, Chris stands up and grabs her plate, taking the cutlery from her hands and cutting a piece of the steak.

He puts it in his mouth and immediately feels the salty taste, and he sees red.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Felix asks, concerned.

“Tsk. Why are you forcing yourself to eat this trash?” Chris spits the steak in a napkin and turns to Aristia instead of answering Felix, and she shrugs.

“You made me.”

He drops the cutlery on the table and signals to the maids outside to come.

“Yes, Your Highness.” They bow.

“Call the chef immediately, as well as everyone else who served us the food.”

In under 5 minutes, a bunch of people stand in front of the table with their eyes stuck to the floor.

Aristia’s back hurts badly again. It shouldn’t, after just getting bandaged 30 minutes ago, but the pain is stronger than ever.

Did my wounds rip open again when I fell?

“Your Highness, I swear on my life that my team and I did our best to prepare the most exquisite meal for you.” The chef begins promptly in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Yeah? Taste this.” Chris points to the plate, and as soon as the chef tastes it, he spits it out.

“Blasphemy. We would’ve never done this to sabotage Her Highness’ meal.” He shakes his head, and Chris nods.

“Then, let’s see. Who did it?” He turns to all the maids and butlers, and none of them seem to want to fess up.

Chris notices one of the younger maids fidgeting, so he asks her to step out.

“What’s your name?” He asks gently, and Aristia can’t help but be impressed with how quickly he is able to change his tone depending on who he speaks with. The girl couldn’t have been more than 13.

“It’s Alice, Your Highness.” She bows politely.

“What a beautiful name. Alice, I have a gut feeling that you know who did this to my wife’s meal.” He continues in the same gentle, encouraging tone.

“Your Highness…” she raises her gaze unsure.

“Go on.” Chris smiles kindly. “You won’t be punished for not speaking out earlier.”

“It was…” She looks unsure from left to right, before letting out a big breath. “… Juliana. I saw her pour salt on the steak before serving the meal.”

“What?! It wasn’t me-” Another girl – Juliana – starts defending herself but shuts up when her eyes land on Chris. She bows apologetically.

“Thank you, Alice.” He pats the young girl’s left shoulder two times, before going to Juliana, who falls to her knees at his approach.

“Your Highness, please believe me!”

“You,” he looks at one of the butlers, “go tell one of the guards outside to take her to the dungeon and execute her by tomorrow morning.”

“Your Highness!” Juliana screams, moment when Aristia stands up and puts her hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“There’s no need for something so extreme.” She smiles coldly. “It’s just a meal.”

“You are a member of the royal family. It’s treason.” Chris insists.

“I just have a different idea on how to punish her. May I?”

Chris looks in Aristia’s eyes and sees that flicker once again. It makes him unable to say no to her when they are burning so bright with passion and interest.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“I want her to become one of my personal maids. That young girl, Alice, too.”

Chris was expecting a lot of things, but not this.

“Thank you, thank you!” Juliana grabs Aristia’s feet, but Aristia throws her a disgusted look for a brief second. The maid is quick to get back.

“… Fine. You’re all dismissed. Chef, do prepare a new meal for the Empress.” He nods with a sigh and turns around to go back to his seat, but he remembers that he should act more politely towards Aristia.

He turns around once more to help her to her seat, when he notices red flowers of misfortune blooming on her white gown.

“Aristia.” He starts, concerned.

“Yes?”

“You’re… bleeding.” He says, and Felix immediately stands up.

“That would explain why it’s so cold.” She smiles weakly, before sitting down in her chair.

Chris grabs one of her hands immediately.

“What are you doing?” He frowns.

“Sitting down. You wanted me to eat.”

“Sister, you should really take care of yourself more.” Felix grabs her other hand and holds onto it tightly, his eyes glossy.

“I’m all right, Lix. It doesn’t even hurt.” She smiles, trying to reassure him, as Chris shakes his head.

“Let’s get you back to your room.” He takes off his coat and places it on her shoulders, hiding her back, and Aristia feels a foreign tightness in her chest at the sight of the Empire’s golden emblems on her body.

“What about the meal?” Felix frowns. “She has to eat.”

“Go tell the maids to bring it to her room.”

Felix nods and almost runs outside as Chris begins guiding her back to her room.

“How much does it hurt?” He asks as soon as they’re outside the greenhouse.

“A whole lot. Please call Hyunjin again.”

“Aristia, when did this start?” Chan asks, truly concerned.

“What?”

“The mistreatment.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me.”

“Ever since I came here.” She shrugs.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t aware of the extent of it. What did they do?” He grabs her arm and stops her from walking, looking into her eyes.

“Cold baths, old food, laughing behind my back, tripping me.” She shrugs again. “It’s fine. I was expecting things to be this way.”

“It’s not fine. You're their Empress. They should respect you. You should’ve come to me.”

“Yeah?” She laughs bitterly.

“Of course. This is serious-”

“Chris, let’s be honest, you didn’t even want to grant me a library pass.”

“Because I thought that you wanted intel on us…” He scratches his nape. “But this is different.”

“To you, maybe. To me, though, it’s the same, if not worse. They would treat me badly, but you forbade my access to the most important thing in my life. And I didn’t trust you.” She says, but quickly corrects herself. “I don’t trust you.”

Chris breathes in deeply and looks into her eyes.

“Aristia…”

“Besides, reporting everything back to you so you can punish them is not the way to get them on my side.”

She starts walking again, signalling that she doesn’t want to talk any more about it.

Approaching her room, she notices Mari chatting brightly with Alice, while Juliana sulks next to them with her arms crossed.

As soon as they notice the pair, they start bowing respectfully.

“Mari, go call Hyunjin.” Chris commands, opening Aristia’s door himself.

“What should we do, Your Highness?” The young girl, Alice, asks brightly.

“Just stay outside until Mari gets back with Hyunjin.” Chris continues.

“Understood, Your Highness!” Alice bows lowly, while Juliana averts her gaze and does an awkward bow as well.

They walk inside and Chris closes the door behind them.

“Why are you still here?” Aristia asks with a raise of her left eyebrow.

“To make sure Hyunjin does his job right.” Chan replies.

“He does.”

“To make sure you eat this time.”

“Just send someone else to watch me like a hawk if you want.”

“What’s wrong if I stay here?”

“You talk too much.” Aristia answers, sitting down on the sofa without pressing her back against the cushions. It’s already hurting enough.

“After how chatty you were last night, I didn’t think you’d mind.” Chris counters with a slight smile playing on his lips. “So many demands in one night are tiring to listen to, you know?”

“And yet, none of them have been met. It appears I wasted my breath.” She shrugs while Chris plops himself down next to her.

The sofa is too small, Aristia notices. It’s uncomfortable that their legs brush against each other, and she feels suffocated when Chris rests his arm on the backrest. It’s like he’s holding her, only without touching.

He turns his head around and talks softly, directly in her ear.

“All of your demands have been met.”

Aristia’s eyes go wide as she twists her body to face Chris properly. Their proximity is anxiety inducing, and she feels her heart skip a few beats.

“What do you mean?”

“You have a meeting scheduled for next week with my assistants, where you will have to choose one of them to teach you about the bookkeeping and the way they’ve been handling the budget, staff and the nobles up until now. See which one of them you click with better.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.” Chris smiles cunningly. There’s something behind his smile that she can’t put her finger on. “I gave you power… even today, in the greenhouse. I let you decide that maid’s punishment, haven’t I?”

“You didn’t give me everything I asked for, though…”

Chris quirks an eyebrow, but his lips hold a prideful smirk, as if challenging her to keep going.

“You didn’t give Changbin to me.”

“With how badly you want him, one might think you’re in love with him.” Chris brings his face closer to Aristia, who doesn’t move away one bit. Instead, she keeps her head high, looking straight into his eyes.

“So, what if I am?” She tilts her head, provoking Chris, and she would’ve better asked him for a duel, with how quickly his gaze darkened.

“You can’t be serious.” He replies immediately.

“What, are you afraid I might fall for someone?”

“Well, it’s only natural. You’re supposed to only have eyes for me. You’re my wife.”

“Your wife.” She replies with a chuckle.

“I would be truly dejected if you searched for love somewhere else.”

“It’s not love I’m after, and it’s not like I can find it anywhere here.” She wears a fake smile, wanting to show Chris that despite his efforts of being close enough to her to feel his breath on her lips, she will not mistake what is between them.

Before Chris has a chance to reply, the doors open and Hyunjin steps through them in haste.

“Your Highness, did you call for me?” He asks as Aristia stands up from the sofa.

“Thank you for coming, Hyun.” Chris answers before she has the chance to open her mouth. “There was a small incident earlier and her wounds opened back up.”

“Again?” He frowns, and Aristia smiles sheepishly. “I just told you one hour ago to be more careful!”

“I’m sorry…” She heads towards the bed, not hesitating to take her gown off. She covers her breasts with her hands as she’s done every time Hyunjin worked on her back.

Chris approaches the bed first, as Hyunjin is taking out his utensils, and whispers in her ear.

“You were pretty quick to undress in front of another man.”

“Imagine that another man saw your wife naked more times than you did.” She replies in a mocking tone, challenging Chris even further.

It seems she discovered a new twisted pleasure in annoying the Emperor.

He tongues his cheek and says quietly “This will simply have to change.”, then heads to the sofa and waits for Hyunjin to treat her.

It’s hard to keep the blush from creeping onto her cheeks, and she’s happy Hyunjin only has to treat her back, and not her front, for he would have surely seen it.

~