#linked to

"he's a monster," you cry, pummelling your fists ineffectually against your pillow.

"jihoon can be strict," soonyoung hums reassuringly, but even you can tell he's amused at the way you're sulking.

you reach out to your left, feeling for one of those expensive silk pillows the princess has, and fling it at him.

soonyoung yelps, "[y/n]!"

"you're finding it funny!" you exclaim, huffing.

he just smiles and says, "isn't it?"

you groan, falling back onto luxurious silk sheets. soonyoung takes the time to pat the pillow down, and rearrange it beside you.

"how long is this gonna go on for," you moan. "he's such a prick."

"you can't say that about the chancellor," soonyoung tuts, finger wagging in your face.

you pretend to bite it, laughing when he hastily retreats away from you. a mock-wounded soonyoung is always better than a traitorous soonyoung any day.

"so what," you say, "i'm the princess now."

he gives you a look. "not really."

"yeah, well, i look so much like her," you mumble, turning your head and burying yourself into silk.

there's a bit of hesitation, before the bed shifts under the addition of another weight. you peek up at him.

"it's just until the princess is rescued," he says.

you stop yourself from blurting out any incriminating words. instead, you begin to pick at the sheets, frowning when they pool weakly around your fingers. luxury really is wasted on you.

"hey, soonyoung," you mumble.

"yeah?"

"save me a drink from the tavern later," you say.

he tuts again, going into a long, unserious drawl about the effects of alcohol and mimicking the chancellor's stiff posture. you grin, propping yourself on an elbow and joining in the game.

there's a quick succession of knocks on your door before it swings open. soonyoung barely manages to get off your bed before jihoon's frown deepens. soonyoung manages to bow deeply, hiding his smile.

"don't you knock before you enter?" you say quickly, sitting up in a 'proper manner'.

"i did," jihoon deadpans.

you take a deep breath - a little part of your soul dies inside. "you know what i mean."

"you have your next lesson with me in five minutes," he says.

you groan. "okay, then give me five."

"two," he says, and sweeps out of the room, leaving the doors open.

the sight of open hallways irritates you to no end. as you get up to shut the doors, you realise exactly what he's accomplished. soonyoung bursts into pearls of laughter.

there will be a time where you learn to keep your emotions hidden beneath layers of satin and chiffon. today is not that day; your bewilderment runs amok on your face, stretching your eyes wide and bleeding the colour from your cheeks.

"w-wh-what the fuck?" you say.

jihoon doesn't look impressed by your outburst. "language, your highness."

"it's just the two of us," you say. "but what the fuck do you mean the prince of rondwell is coming over?"

jihoon raises an eyebrow. "the prince of rondwell is successor to the throne. it is most likely-"

"he's here to propose," you cut in. "is he?"

"-it is most likely that he is here to strengthen their alliance with springwood," he smoothly finishes.

"so he is," you say, slumping back in your chair. "but- what about the princess?"

jihoon is silent for a moment while you panic.

"we can't let him know about me," you say, wringing your hands, "if he knows then the kingdom is going to know too."

"it would be disastrous certainly," he agrees.

you run a hand through your hair, thinking.

"which is why," he says, "you'll have to keep it up until he leaves."

"until he-" you choke. "what?"

"you'll repel him, naturally," jihoon says, "but without offending his good senses - rondwell is a powerful ally, and when the princess returns-"

"wait," you say, holding a hand up. "can't i just reject him?"

jihoon taps his fingers on the table, the first sign of impatience. "no - princess mina will be marrying him next fall."

you pause. "so they're engaged?"

he gives you a look. "it's strategy."

"does the princess know about this?"

for the first time, jihoon looks pained. but the look flits away and you're left with the stony, calculated expression he wears all day. when he speaks, you realise he's choosing his words with care - because you are ultimately an outsider, and of lowly status.

"the princess knows of her duty to the kingdom."

you grit your teeth. "so she doesn't."

"it will be easier for your disguise," he shrugs.

the same itch burns up your chest. you press down hard on your arm, and barely manage to subdue the indignation in your voice.

"i thought we'd abolished arranged marriages back in the-"

"[y/n]," he says lowly. you shiver. "do you understand what you need to do?"

"yes," you bow your head, feeling as though you're complicit in a crime. "keep the act up until the prince leaves."

he nods. you turn your attention to the table cloth, watching its ivory lace dance restlessly in the stilted air.

"is there any update on the princess-?" you ask, just as

he says, "don't get attached."

the prince of rondwell is nicer than you'd thought. he's all smiles and cheer, nodding to the servants and thanking them for every single bit of aid. you notice the palace bustling and puffing its chest out to impress this courtly gentleman.

and when he smiles at you, you think you don't mind the pink flush that blooms on your cheeks.

"call me seokmin," he says, leaning in and grinning.

you resist the instinct to giggle - jihoon's gaze is upon you. "mina. princess mina."

the name sticks to your tongue like sticky taffy, foreign and uneasy. but seokmin take it in stride, bowing to you.

"that's a pretty name," he says.

and it's not even mine, you think wryly. to him, you smile. "thank you."

"shall we go to the stables? i heard you like to ride," seokmin says, posturing his arms to resemble a horse.

a laugh bubbles in your throat this time, caught unaware by his antics. "of course-"

"i beg your pardon," jihoon cuts in swiftly, giving you a warning look. "but the princess recently sprained her ankle."

are you kidding me.

when seokmin turns from jihoon to you for confirmation, you can only pretend to wince, shifting your weight to the other leg. you bite your lip, flushing under seokmin's apologetic smile.

"perhaps we should take a walk around the gardens," you suggest quickly, ignoring jihoon. "there are benches where we can rest, and i would hate to compromise your trip here."

jihoon isn't pleased, for some reason, but in this court you are acting princess, so your word is final. seokmin offers you his arm. you take it, looping your own around his, feeling his warmth through the robe.

seokmin strolls slowly, taking into consideration your supposed injury. you allow him to pamper you; soaking in the attention of a gentle suitor is a privilege you've never been privy to.

"ah, daisies," seokmin says, brushing his fingers against a delicate petal.

as he plucks one from its bush, you think you hear jihoon's condescending scoff from behind you. seokmin turns to you and tucks it in your hair.

"a beautiful flower for a beautiful lady," seokmin says.

it's cheesy as heck, but who cares? you smile up at seokmin, who returns that with a sun-soaked grin. the afternoon light carves his features in a dazzling manner, and his eyes are sparkling as he speaks.

"what's your favourite flower?"

his hand, intertwined with yours, guides you through the garden. with small, deliberate steps, you let your eyes roam around. so many flowers, locked in and sheltered from the world, privy only to the rich and royal.

"i, uh," you say, "there are so many of them..."

"peonies," jihoon pipes up finally.

he's got his usual poker face on, but something about his frown doesn't quite sit right with you. seokmin glances back at you, slightly confused.

"the princess always loved peonies," jihoon says.

something in your chest shrinks to a narrow second of indecision.

"no," you say. "i like periwinkles."

jihoon's eyes widen - an accomplishment - before he tears his gaze away. your eyes, however, don't manage the same restraint.

"there aren't any here," seokmin notes.

"periwinkles don't grow here," the cracking of your voice goes unnoticed. "they thrive in less fertile soils."

maybe it's a challenge, maybe it's a warning. though jihoon's averting his gaze and remains in his position behind the two of you during the walk, it doesn't feel like a victory. rather, the sour taste of your remark lingers too sharply.

seokmin only grows more correct as time passes. he's polite, adorable, encouraging, and not afraid to break a few rules.

there's a banquet held in his honour, three days late, and you've spent the last two hours patronising the ministers from rondwell. seokmin's politely entertaining questions from ministers of your own court too, charming their metaphorical pants off.

jihoon, meanwhile, is lurking in the corner, talking in harsh, low tones to a few knights. there hasn't been any news, or at least, none so big that even jihoon couldn't keep under wraps. you sigh.

"hey," seokmin whispers in your ear.

you jump, "hey."

"wanna get out of here for a bit?" seokmin tempts, "it's a nice night out, and i may have found a secret route to a field of periwinkles."

your heart stammers, lured by the earnest, easy smile he has.

"you remembered," is all you manage.

"you look... trapped," seokmin says. "sad."

how long has it been since you've donned this persona? even now, your head is still held high, stiff and in anticipation of a sudden cookbook trial. you imagine

out of the corner of your eye, jihoon is still muttering agitatedly, fretting ever so slightly.

fuck it.

it is hard to be discreet. returning with flowers in your hair and an intoxicated, giddy smile, you find a scowling jihoon in front of the chambers. the stifled laugh that rumbles in seokmin's throat is swallowed as he sees the shorter chancellor.

"sire," seokmin begins to say.

"welcome back," jihoon says. "princess, i believe we have some matters to discuss."

you don't, but take his cue anyway.

jihoon's eyes narrow as you let seokmin kiss your hand. when the prince is gone, however, jihoon snaps - reaching forward and dragging you into the room.

"running away in the middle of the banquet - how idiotic - what if people noticed - the princess would never - irresponsible -" the words rise and falter, fragments of phrases gushing out in anger.

you snatch your arm away. "i'm not your princess."

jihoon glares you down. "what were you supposed to do."

"i was with seokmin," you throw your hands up. "i'm doing what-"

"what were you supposed to do."

a tense exhale. pinching your nose, you shut your eyes. "i'm supposed to keep this up until he leaves."

jihoon's voice is dangerously soft. "and by flirting with him, do you think he'll leave any time soon."

he's right. he is, but fuck if you'll admit it.

"she's going to marry him anyway," you say.

"that's right," there's a fire in jihoon's eyes. "she is. not you."

a loud smack echoes in the west wing. when the fog of rage dissipates, jihoon's arms are stuck firmly to his sides. his left cheek is left swelling and red.

the only reason you're not already tied to the stakes, readying yourself for the afterlife is because jihoon still needs a back-up princess for this puppet show. but he hadn't said anything since walking out of your chambers and shutting the doors gently.

now, even as you work through tea with seokmin (and a silent jihoon standing guard behind you), the tension in the air is palpable. seokmin's compromised grins don't do much to assuage it.

"so i was thinking of westbay," seokmin says. "and how fun it would be to travel there..."

"westbay is in the central world," you say lamely.

"on the edge of its boundaries," seokmin says. "like springwood. but the thing is, it's an island, and there aren't any reports of the place."

you frown. "it doesn't exist, then?"

"it does," seokmin insists. "there were fisherboats that caught sight of the island. it's well guarded, but open to individual travellers."

"you're the prince of rondwell," you say. "how can you just leave?"

"your princess did," seokmin says cheerfully.

at that, the porcelain cup falls from your grasp. jihoon's by your side in a moment.

"what-" you say, but jihoon silences you.

"i'm afraid, prince seokmin," jihoon says, voice forged with an iron calm, "that i have to ask you to refrain from making groundless accusations."

seokmin is quiet, thoughtful. "i thought... i'm sorry, your grace."

you cough. "i, um, when are you leaving? for westbay."

"next fall."

the answer is too familiar. jihoon doesn't look surprised. if anything, he presses his lips together even more tightly.

he doesn't intend to marry the princess.

the three of you sit in uncomfortable silence. the seconds crawl along, swirling in the apparent calm of your teacup. before you can say something to diffuse the tension, however, there's a knock on the door.

a knight peers in, and bows deeply. jihoon follows him out quickly. through the thin slit of the door you can see jihoon's face light up, eyes glassy.

"she's safe," you whisper.

"i'm glad," seokmin says lightly, "sorry, i thought she'd left on her own."

"the princess wouldn't do that," you say.

seokmin smiles. "would you?"

"what?"

"would you leave with me for westbay?"

seokmin's carriage leaves in an hour. you pace around your room - your actual, ratty compartment - and sigh uneasily. something's missing. something's out of place.

the unease swells into a near-tangible bubble around you, stretching into a choking fit. exhaling gently, you manage to sit on your bare mattress.

soonyoung peers around your ajar door. "hey."

you smile back. "hey."

"you're leaving, huh."

"yeah," you say, tying your hair into a braid. "now that i've gotten used to luxury i can't stop, yknow."

he swats you playfully.

"westbay, huh," soonyoung says. "if you're leaving, i might as well leave too."

you straighten up. "where are you going?"

"somewhere in the central world," soonyoung says. "i was always made for more."

you don't disagree. soonyoung's one of your best friends, and even though he's not of noble birth, he's gifted with a heart so wide and strong, open arms. springwood is too small, too timid for his dreams.

"summervale sounds nice," you say.

soonyoung nods. "yeah, that's where-"

there's a knock on the door. you wait for the visitor to show themselves, but there's nothing.

"um, who's there?"

"lee jihoon."

you pause. "come in."

he does.

soonyoung glances from you to jihoon, and then prowls out of the room with exaggerated steps. you roll your eyes, but turn back to jihoon.

he looks out of place in the room - a regal shade of violet amid all that grey and tear. standing up, you bow deeply for the last time. jihoon doesn't say anything.

"i'm sorry," you say. "for acting out of hand and crossing the line."

jihoon doesn't quite respond the way you thought he would. "westbay, huh."

you look up. he's unsettled.

"yes," you say, and then, "thank-"

just as jihoon says, "here-"

the two of you immediately clamp up. you follow the length of his arm to see an embroidered silk charm-bag in his hand. it's small and intricate.

"safe travels," jihoon finally mutters.

you accept the gift. there's a nondescript, flowery scent from the bag. as you pull the ribbon open, you see a few iridescent blue petals and a pearl bead within.

smiling, you say, "thank you."

jihoon nods curtly.

you retie the bag, placing it in your pocket. jihoon's eyes follow your every move. you wonder if he's yearning for the same freedom you've just been granted.

"the central world," you say, catching his attention, "isn't far from here."

you're not sure what it is that you're suggesting, but it sounds like a promise. jihoon averts his gaze, and then looks at you properly.

"neither is springwood from there, then," jihoon says.