#prince!junhui

Junhui may be a prince, but he doesn't act like one. He's the opposite of Busan's future king Joshua, who's face stays unknown, hiding in the shadow of his castle. China's future ruler is known by the tabloids, other may say that his bedroom is also quiet known but these stay rumours. When he isn't in some gossip magazine for his flirtatious behaviours, seen with a new girl each time, he's the headline for his dangerous attitudes. From jumping from a plane to causing a fight with a well-known and powerful businessman, he probably did everything. His status is the reason why he gets everything on a golden plate, he isn’t used to being ignored, or even denied. He doesn’t have boundaries, that’s the first thing that you notice as you’re standing next to the King. A week ago, the King announced that he wanted to hire you, not even hours after, your bags were made, waiting in front of your little bed. Congratulations from your boss and your fellow friends and agents weren’t helping you, something in your guts told you that something was wrong, the image you had of the Prince wasn’t perfect at all and without meeting him, you knew he was going to be a hard one. You tried to keep yourself busy by training again and again, spending more and more time in the training rooms, using new weapons. But now that you were in front of him, you couldn’t deny the feeling growing in your stomach. He didn’t look at you once, but the hatred he already had for you was heard in the words he spat out as soon as he entered the room. “I don’t want her, I don’t need her.” Maybe the tabloids were right after all, you thought.

“You don’t have a choice, Junhui.”, the King’s voice was calm compared to his son’s, his hands joined in front of him as the Prince walked to face the window, he was looking down at the city, only a few meters away, different buildings were close since the castle was in the middle of the city. It was already late and only dots of lights coming from windows were seen. A stressed hand ran in his hair, one of his hand on his hips. The silence was heavy but you didn’t flinch under it.

“I’m not a child anymore.”, groaned the Prince, and as he turned around to face his father, you saw something you couldn’t quiet put your finger on in his expression.

“Then stop acting like one.”, the words were harsh, cutting the tension and immediately affected the young men as his lips formed a straight line, his jaw thigh. His arms flexed underneath his white button up, his lips parting and closing as he tried to find his words. “Don’t forget who you are, don’t forget your role.” Severe words were spoken again, Junhui’s shoulders tensing, his fist clenching on the massive table.

“Always with the same future king bullshit.”, this time, the violence of his words made you flinch, slightly raising an eyebrow, but his father didn’t seem fazed at all. His severe expression didn’t change, he didn’t move one bit at his son’s attack.

“We’re not having this discussion again.”, he simply said, and you were left confused when he moved from his spot, sitting on the chair of his desk as his it was the end of the discussion.

“Off course not, because that’s who I am, right ?”, sarcasm was clear in the Prince’s voice, yet the King didn’t look up from the papers he was looking at. Glasses on the bridge of his nose, the men didn’t respond and Junhui took the chance to leave the room, rushing beside you, the smell of his strong cologne lingered in the air. His footsteps echoed in the room and you wondered if you should follow him and decided to stay near the desk and wait for the King’s command. A loud bang was heard when he left, the few paintings on the wall shaking and once again, he didn’t look up.

“You’re his last chance.”, and with that, you run after Junhui.   You don’t have the time to look around and detail the castle architecture as you speed walk in the Prince’s footstep, your eyes immediately finding his figure between the different domestics as he takes a sharp turn. Domestics turn to look at you, maybe because of your loud boots against the carpet, or maybe because you’re running after the future king. His dirty blood hair bounce at each and every step, his tense shoulder blades stretching his white buttons up. He’s wearing a pair of black pants and equally dark shoes and you wonder if he’s always well dressed. You see his finger playing the buttons of his sleeve and soon enough he’s pushing them to his elbows, frustrated hand running in his locks. He knows you’re after him, but doesn’t look back and always wait for the last moment to take a turn, hoping it will disturb you a little bit but everything is just a game to you. You’re still breathing normally and could stop him on this spot if you wanted, but rather, you take a few longer steps, effortlessly and find yourself behind him, like his shadow.

“Your Highness.”, you call, voice breaking the silence and as you think he’s just going to ignore you and continue walking, he freezes on his spot. His fist curl on his side and you have to stop just behind him, he opens his mouth before you can. “Don’t call me that.” It takes you back, the sharpness in his words make you raise an eyebrow but you don’t show any other sign of what you’re feeling. He turns around and you finally get a proper look at him. After seeing him so many times in pictures, videos or paintings, seeing him so close to you would almost make your heart skip a beat if you hadn’t learn how to control your body and emotions. His eyebrows are sharp, furrowed, eye narrows as he looks at you up and down, it’s his first time seeing you properly as well. His eyes travel from your face to your clothes, and linger towards the knife resting against your thigh with a black band, before his eyes roll, faking annoyance.

“You’re the Prince, and as long as I’m working for you, I’ll have to refer to you with the proper words.”, your voice is calm compared to his frustrated one. And in a second, something changes. The line between his eyebrows disappear and a smirk decorates his lips. He rolls his shoulders as he tries to easy them and leaves his hands in his pockets.

“You won’t be staying long anyways.”, he fakes a chuckle and you would’ve been fooled if you didn’t know how to fake your expression as well, “Want to bet, Your Highness ?”

Week : One. On the first week of working for the Prince, you find out that he’s still a child. You understand it after the first night. The Prince’s apartment is way too big, you wonder how someone can stay all alone in such a huge place. You barely have the time to detail his bedroom before a domestic shoves you into the room you will be staying in, but you catch the huge bed, the luxurious fabric hanging from the columns. It’s not a normal bedroom for a young adult, everything is in shades of gold and ivory, so much that you feel nauseous. Nothing is personal, it seems like a decoration for a play, and your bedroom isn’t any better. You apparently have the honour to sleep in the Prince’s guest room, a room a few meters away from his own bed. He’s more than happy to let you in the domestic hands but his eyes get narrow as soon has he sees the domestic leave your bag in the guest room.

The castle is far from where you normally live, the dorms of Jeonghan’s agency are way less luxurious. You’re trained to adapt to new and foreign environment, you’ll get used to the huge bed they let you sleep in, the proximity with the future King of China who’s sleeping right next door. You’ll adapt to the coldness of the castle. With all the decorations, the pricy paintings and gold on the walls, you find yourself missing the messy dorms, the castle is impersonal, detached, fake. It’s not like you’ve never been away from Jeonghan, Wonwoo and the other agents you’re close to either, you once had a mission in France but now, you’re totally secluded. The domestic asked for your phone, which is now somewhere in the King’s desk, as if you were a threat, and now you don’t even know how you’ll communicate with your boss and your friends. You wonder, is Wonwoo okay ? He’s on a mission with a Prince too, but this once seems a lot less problematic. Mingyu became the new bodyguard of some singer and should be staying with him on tour for a few more months.

You sit on the bed that’s way too big for you, you’re used to bed big enough to fit you, and only you, and here you can probably have four people. You don’t know if you love or hate it. The mattress sink under you and envelops your body, it feels like a cloud and the soft silk duvet feels like water between your fingers yet the room itself is so odd. Too many decorations, you don’t need the vanity sitting in a corner, it gives you the creeps from all the movies you watched, the huge mirror is placed in a way that when you sit up, you see yourself in the corner of your eyes. You forget about it a few times and almost get ready to throw something at the mirror when you see a form at the corner of your eyes. You don’t need the huge closet either, it even has a couch in the middle, you’re sure it’s as big as the dorm you, Wonwoo and Mingyu share. It even looks too empty with the few clothes you brought with you.

They tell you that your mission officially starts the next morning, that you’ll need to rest as much as possible, and soon enough, you’re slowly falling asleep.

The castle is quiet, not a noise outside or on the other side of the door, and somewhere between consciousness and the first outlines of a dream, you wonder if you’ll be able to get along with the Prince to do your job, even with such a thick skin. But as you wake up the next morning, the cloud clock going off, you soon understand that getting along with you wasn’t in the Prince’s list.

Your mind takes a few seconds to register the environment, thinking that you’ll wake up next to your two loud roommates, but the only thing you see is your messy figure in the vanity. You have to get dressed at such an ungodly hour, your black clothes hiding some weapons just in case. The same knife resting against your leg, another weapon against your hip as you know the Prince’s supposed to have a meeting today. It only takes a few minutes into your first day of work to realise that the Prince is still a child, as your hand curls on the knot of the door, and the door doesn’t open. You turn it a few times, shaking the door, but in the crack of the door, you see that it’s locked. A sigh leaves your lips, you can’t help but roll your eyes at his attempt to keep you away. The joke is so, so old. You remember when Mingyu tried to lock you and Wonwoo in the dorm, and just like you didn’t at that time, you kneel in front of the door. You easily find what you need in your hair, the small metal branch almost falling from your grip, you probably look like an old spy movie cliché. They teach you these things on your first year, how to peek a lock, just in case you find yourself locked somewhere after a dangerous situation, but you certainly didn’t expect to be locked in the future king’s guest room.

You quickly insert the metal in the lock, paying close attention to the sound of the mechanism. It only takes you a few minutes to press just the right way, and the lock makes a sound before it retracts in the wooden door. You can’t help the small smile that creeps on your face when you unlock the door, the wood cracking. “Hurry up, your Highness, you have a meeting in an hour.”, your voice resonates in the place and you wish you had your phone on you to take a picture of the Prince’s face, surprise taking over his sleepy eyes. His still in his night clothes, the fabric looks like the slick you were sleeping in a few moments before, the deep red colour contrasting with his pale skin.

“You didn’t think you could get rid of me so easily, did you ?”, you hum, and his eyes get narrow again. On the first day, you also learn how manipulative the Prince can be. It surprises you, you wonder where he learned to control his emotions so easily. You see it as soon as he enter the reunion room. His angry expression he has since this morning fades away, his thigh jaw eases up, lips lightly tugged upwards as he steps in, you close behind. You don’t know what the meeting is about, but you’re surprised to see the King waiting at the very end of the table as well. You have to bow at him before you can give a proper look at the two person visiting. Park Jiwon, King of New Zealand, the tall men sits near the King of China, talking to him like an old friend, and beside him is sitting the Princess of New Zealand, Park Chaeyong. She isn’t getting involved in the conversation, her eyes of her father, but when the Prince of China enters, she gives the proper greetings and stays silent. The reunion room is a place you’re now familiar with, and you stand near the door before the Prince sits next to his father. Their discussion fades away with a laugh from the two kings, and you’re surprised when China’s ruler tells you to get closer, until you’re standing between the two, lightly in the back. Junhui greets the men in front of him when he finally gives him the attention and you notice how he seems a lot more appreciable, bearable. You even catch him laughing at the jokes the King makes at how he grew since the last time he saw him.

“It’s good to see you too, your Majesty.”, finally says Junhui, his voice is smooth, honey dripping from it and you wonder where did the childish men went.

“Oh, Junhui, drop the formalities.”, says the King. He looks some relaxed than the Junhui’s father, a smile stretching the old men’s face.

“It’s been a long time since you saw Chaeyoung too.”, and finally, the young brunette finally entering the conversation. “Yes, it’s nice to see her again.”, he politely says. And somewhere between his polite response and the King’s hum in agreement, the atmosphere switches. From a normal conversation to something more serious.

“You two are the same age, your father and I think you two could get along.” And, finally, the real subject is revealed. You can’t help but notice how the Prince’s shoulder tense, his head stays up but he refuses to look at the young Princess. Arranged marriage, that’s what it’s all about. You swallow at the thought, you never liked the idea of those arrangement, and you fight with yourself to stay detached. You’re not here to spy on their conversation, or even debate on the King’s choices for that matter, you’re here to keep the Prince safe, help him make the right decision, help him get the tabloids and the people’s sympathy after all the things he’s done.

Yet you can’t help but notice how his façade threatens to break, you’ve learned to read people’s body language and the way he clears his throat and smiles weakly may be fooling the three other but it isn’t fooling you. You don’t quiet listen to what the king has to say, but you figure he probably was praising his daughter, and you can’t help yourself but listen to the conversation when he comes to a pause.

“However.”, and this time, the King of China tenses, he isn’t good at hiding it, and you wonder if the other King isn’t playing on it. He leans closer to the table and his shoulder tenses.

“You need to gain a better image if we want this marriage to happen.”, and Junhui swallows again, China’s ruler tries to find his words for a moment. It’s understandable, Junhui’s reputation isn’t the best, and he probably doesn’t want this reputation to rub on his country’s image, or even his daughter’s.

“Miss right here is helping my son with this issue.”, informs the King, and Park Jiwon looks at you for the second time. You don’t flinch under his gaze, he inspects you for a quick second before his eyes find the King’s again.

“I hope she can do something for him.”

Week : Two.

You wonder if you can really do something for him.

How can you help him when after two weeks, you still can’t tell who he really is ? You don’t understand when he’s playing a role and when he’s being genuine. He switches from a spoiled Prince that only wants you to leave, to a polite and well behaved young adult when he’s talking to the domestics. His life follows the rhythm of his meetings, the obligations of a Prince, and you’re surprised to see how he rarely goes out. You thought you would have to go out every other day, different places every time but in reality, he spends a lot of time between the walls of the castle. So much so that you’re growing familiar with the place. It’s still too big and you’re sure you could get lost without Junhui to follow, but you’re a lot less impressed by all the paintings, the decorations. You’re leaving the King’s desk, who gave you a few last informations about a particular event going on tonight. There’s so many paintings of him in the castle, the first one you noticed was an old representation of him. All of them are extremely formal, he’s wearing traditional dresses in all of them, long sleeves and neutral looks. In all of them, he’s standing in the middle, they all look the same. Long hair tugged in a bun, sticks holding his hair, luxurious fabric around his body, small details in gold. The only one that’s different is near his apartments, you think that the proximity shows how much he prefers this one. It’s also the most recent painting, made for his 21th birthday. He’s sitting in a leather chair, his expression says so much more. His eyes are playful, a smirk decorates his lips, and for once, his hair is short. He cut his hair on the day of his birthday, rumour has it that he begged his father for years. Paintings of the royal family are everywhere, it’s also the only time you see his mother. The Queen, for some reason, stays in her apartments and you never saw her after two weeks. In some of them, Junhui’s sister’s also there. Years ago, she got married to another Prince and left the country, she rarely ever comes back. The last figure is Junhui’s younger brother. Only a year younger, but his reputation is so much better than his brother’s. You know that he is abroad for school, he rarely ever appears on the tabloids but whenever he does, it’s for his amazing skills in soccer, his graduation day, his good actions.

When you get back in front of the Prince’s apartment, you knock on the wooden door and wait for his response. “It’s opened.” It’s like he knows who’s behind the door, and finds his attitude again.

“You should get dressed, Your Highness, the ball should start soon.” He looks up from his phone, laying on his bed, leg dangling from the mattress. He’s still in his night clothes, hair messy. Today had been a rather calm day, a day where he didn’t do anything to you, letting you rest. If you didn’t know that he wanted you out, you would probably think that all the things he was doing were probably just small pranks. From locking your door, to stopping the water whenever you showered, or even adding god knows what in your food, all of these things were harmless. None of them gave you the thought to leave, but tonight, you didn’t know that he was taking a step further.

“I will, soon.”, he simply said, and his calm behaviour almost made you raise an eyebrow.

“Your father wants you to get ready and wait for him in his desk in an hour.”, you informed, closing the door behind you. He only hummed, cutting the conversation short, and you didn’t want it to go further anyways, since you also had to get dressed. Being the Prince’s bodyguard, you had to stick to him tonight more than never. A lot of people were invited to the ball, and anything could happen there. The King made it clear that he didn’t want anything to happen, and he also wanted Junhui to stay until the end, since he apparently had the habit to disappear after an hour. This ball was also Junhui’s chance to redeem himself and behave in the right way. As you walked towards your room, you remembered Jeonghan’s lesson on how to hide weapon while wearing a dress, but your thoughts stopped as soon as you opened the closet. Your eyes immediately land on the red fabric, hanging on the metal bar, something is wrong. You don’t remember your dress being this short, or having this cut on the side. Your dress was ruined.

“Guess you’re not coming tonight, then.”, and you didn’t even have to turn around to know that Junhui was leaning against the doorframe of the guest room, a smirk on his face. Day after day, you get more and more convinced that he’s a child. And you don’t understand his motives. He doesn’t give you a second look and walks away, and you have to reprimand the rage bubbling in your chest. The dress he just ruined and torn was a gift from Jeonghan, it was a piece of clothing you held close to your heart and you also couldn’t go to the ball without a dress, it seemed like managed to keep you from doing your job this time. You even feel like throwing something at the back of his head.

He could’ve won, if only, you weren’t in a castle.

Maybe he thinks you’re leaving for good when you leave his apartments for a moment, but he can’t hide his puzzled look when you come back and comfortably sit on one of the chair near his bed. For a moment, you wonder why he wants you gone so bad, as he quickly styles his hair, maybe he sees you as someone here to take his freedom away, but you’re only doing your job. After all, he doesn’t seem so bad at hiding his emotions and playing the good prince, so you wonder why he doesn’t play the role everyday, if it’s a role. You notice his sided looked, like he wants to ask you what you’re doing here again but his mouth stays shut until someone knocks on the door again.

“Come in.”, he says, and in the back of his mind, he thinks it’s his father behind the door, but he’s more than surprised when Yura, one of the domestic you sympathised with, enters the room.

“Your Highness.”, she greets the Prince before she turns towards your figure and gives you a boxy smile. Her short blonde hair was straightened for the ball tonight, her usual working clothes gone for a fancier looking uniform that all the domestic were wearing. The dark fabric of the jacket contrasted with the blue lenses she was wearing, and the red lipstick on her lips. “There you go, it should be your size.”, her voice bounces on the walls, and she seems oblivion to the tension in the air, an excited noise coming from her mouth when he hands you a black fabric. You take it with a smile, thanking her with a movement of the hand. You don’t really look at the dress itself, before she moves in the room.

“How did you even torn that dress ?” she asks, and move towards your room to get the ruined fabric. She leaves for a quick moment, your eyes meet Junhui’s, big and surprised. “Oh, you know, having knifes under your clothes does that sometimes.”, you fake laugh, never breaking the eye contact with the Prince.

“Guess I’m going to the ball, Your Highness.”

You almost don’t recognise the hall, all the lights are reflecting in the chandeliers, colourful flowers are decorating the stairs, the delicate smell of food fill your nose. The music is soft enough to let the guests talk without raising their voices, loud enough to be appreciated. The castle is full with well dressed, wealthy people. You can’t help but notice how most, it not all, mans are wearing dark suits with patterns, white button ups and matching pants. Their shoes aren’t the only shiny things when you notice the multiple necklaces most of them are wearing, while others wear a set of rings around their fingers. The ladies’ clothes are a lot more diversified. For short red dresses, to long black ones, they all look too pricy for you and you suddenly feel like you’re not fancy enough. Their makeup was probably made by a professional, alongside their hair. You’re sure most of them are wearing jewelleries from well-known brands, chokers made of diamonds, rose gold rings.

“Announcing Moon Junhui the first, Prince of China.”, a voice resonated in the hall, everyone’s head turning towards the stairs. There was standing the Prince, his blonde hair were styled back, revealing his forehead. The suit he was wearing looked surreal, the black jacket had patterns that revealed themselves under the light, shifting and disappearing at every movement. Underneath the jacket, was a deep red button up, the silk fabric is lightly opened at the very top, revealing the beginning of the Prince’s collarbones. It looks like the artisans made gloves with the same fabric, perfectly hugging his fingers and you feel like in a few days, people are going to leave their rings for gloves. The part of his outfit he likes the most is probably the choker he’s wearing low on his neck, black diamond decorating his neck, he knows he looks good and a smirk is the last decoration as everyone shifts they attention to him.

You, a little back, take the time to detail everyone in the room. From your spot, dominating the crowd, you find the perfect chance to see if anyone is acting strange, evaluating the risk. However, your mind keeps getting back on what you’re wearing, the black dress hugging your body wasn’t the best to hide every weapon. You’re only wearing the ring you always have on you and try to stay as natural as possible when everyone’s attention turn towards you. They’re expecting the men to announce you, they have no idea what you’re doing here, not dressed as much as everyone else, a little in the background but still close to the Prince. But he doesn’t say anything, you’re not supposed to be announced anyways and murmurs start to rise when they understand that your identity will stay hidden, and the Prince starts going down the stairs.

You never thought you would ever agree with the Prince, but balls are indeed really boring. You feel like they’re playing the same melody over and over again, he has to greet everyone with the same smile, the same words, it’s a routine and you understand how bored he must feel. Everyone greets him with the same words, so much so that it became white nose, and your eyes only search for any weapons hidden by the person he’s talking to. No one asks who you are, and it’s for the best, until Junhui finally comes to a stop, in front of a young men who looks around the same age.

“Minghao, I’m so happy you’re here.”, Junhui breathes, his forehead leans against the other’s shoulder, and the one named Minghao pats his back.

“You’ve seen everyone ?”, he asks and as they talk, you detail his bleached white hair, all black outfit decorated with silver details. You notice his ear piercing, eyes moving down, nothing looks odd his outfit, no bumps. And his body language doesn’t alarm anything either, he looks familiar with the Prince, so much that he asks the question everyone has on their tongue.

“Aren’t you going to tell me who this is ?”, he asks and his eyes lock in yours, you don’t know who he is but greet him with a bow anyways, making him smile.

“Uh, yeah. This is my “babysitter””, he says, doing the quotes with his fingers. You stay still at his side, not saying a word as you’re supposed to stay in the back, faded.

“Does your babysitter have a name.”, he asks, not leaving your eyes and you wonder why he’s so interested in who you are.

“Is it really that important.”, simply says the Prince and you almost feel like hitting his side before you finally open your mouth.

“Y/N”, you smile, and you can’t help but notice the strange look Junhui give you, or maybe he’s giving it to his friend as he reaches for your hand and quickly presses his lips on the back of it. Week : three. On the third week, you actually feel like the Prince babysitter. It was already a growing feeling when you had to drag him to his bed, when he had a little bit too much to drink at the ball. You remember how he was drinking everything he saw, from the pink-ish bubbling strawberry beverage to the transparent one in the small glass. It’s like he’s intention was to get drunk, always a cup in his hand and you almost had to stop him at his fifth glass. He was getting less and less formal, to his friend, Minghao’s joy. Flirting with girls, speaking so freely with other princes, you understood the King’s command as soon as you met his eyes.

“Where are we going ?”, he giggles, one of his arms resting on your shoulder s you support his weight.

“Your bedroom, Your Highness.”, thankfully, no one was there when he dropped his body on your shoulders, and no one was in the corridors as every domestic was occupied with the ball.

“Oh so after two weeks you’re finally getting in my bed.”, a breathy laugh escape his lips and you can’t help but exhale loudly at the smell of alcohol. You stay cold towards his small allusions, your arm wrapping around his waist to keep him from falling forward.

“No, Your Highness, you’re going to sleep.”, you tell him, and you suppress a groan as his head bumps into yours.

“Don’t call me that.”, he whines this time, he sounds like a child, before a groan escapes his lips and his cheek leans against your temple. “Can’t you just call me by my name.”, he murmurs. It’s the second time that he made this request, but you can’t refer to him by his actual name, it’s who he is, the Prince, and he seems to hate that. His tumbling in the last corridor, and you’re having a fight with your mind, you can’t analyse his drunken words. A hiss falls from his lips and you look up, thinking that you hurt him, but you only see his eyes narrow towards the wall.

“I really hate those.”, he says, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he looks at the paintings.

“You have to get to bed.”

You tried your hardest not to think about his words after that, and you don’t even have the time to when on the third week, he seems to want you out again. You became his babysitter again when, one day as you open the door, expecting to see him sleepy sitting on his bed, you see him,

And someone else. The person immediately dives in the sheets, the fabric covering her head as a surprised gasp escape her lips. You even take some time to register the situation, you don’t remember anyone entering the room after you, or hearing anything. The thing is, he isn’t supposed to have anyone without you knowing and agreeing. Your eyes immediately shoot daggers at the Prince, after three weeks, you don’t care about his status.

“Your Highness.”, the words cut the silent and you don’t even understand the rage bubbling in your chest, you blame it on how he’s keeping you from doing your job.

“Good morning.”, he’s so detached, hand running in his dirty blonde hair as he sits up. The sheet drops to his waist and you try your harder not to look down as you understand that he’s shirtless.

“I don’t remember you telling me that you were having someone.”, you keep eye contact with him and you hate how you can see the amusement dancing over his eyes, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“Yeah, I forgot.”

And for a quick moment, you wonder, is it New Zealand’s Princess hiding under these sheets ? But you remember that her and her father left three day after the meeting, so is he having someone else when he may get married ? Heat burns your ears, your fists clenching as you walk over the bed. His smirk never leaves his lips until he notices that you’re walking over the girl’s side and not he’s.

“Miss, you need to get out.”, the words are so sharp that you surprise yourself. The Prince immediately shifts on his bed, “Wai-“

“No, with all my respect, you can’t have someone without telling me.”, you don’t think twice and lift the white sheet off the girl’s head, silently thanking her when you notice that she’s in fact, not naked underneath. She’s actually still wearing her pants and the Prince’s shirt from the day before. You don’t know her, she’s not a domestic or someone near the Prince’s social rank, and from the red colour creeping on her cheeks, you can tell that she wasn’t expecting that.

“Out.”, the words are dry and like an afraid child, she immediately gets off of the bed, to Junhui’s shock. Her eyes linger on the knife on full display against your thigh and she doesn’t ask a single question before she bolts out of the room, leaving the door open.

“You’re so annoying.”, the Prince roll his eyes and it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at him.

“I’m just doing my job, Your Highness.”, he laughs at your words, his legs swinging out of your bed. “I don’t want to disappoint your father, I hope she didn’t take any pictures.”, you try your best to stay calm, but your gesture talk for yourself.

“I won’t tell anything to the King, but it’s the first strike.”, your words linger in the air and you hope they will trigger something in the Prince, you hope he’ll finally let you do your job, that he’ll finally realise his future king status. Your voice definitely trigger something, but not what you expected. He smirks again.

Week : four. Week four, a month, and that’s when everything goes downhill. It’s the first time that you lose control, and you hate it, so, so much. Your heart’s beating and you try your hardest to breathe normally, you try everything they taught you to keep your heartbeat at a normal rate, but as you speed walk in the casino, you can’t help but breathe heavily.

The lights of the different machines are flashing in front of your eyes, the stupid music they play whenever someone loses seems to echo everywhere with the sound of coins hitting each other. Your fingers are cold from the weather outside, a few minutes ago, you were out, trying to find the Prince in the pitch black. The hot temperature in the casino made your heat turn pink-ish and even if you can barely feel your fingers, they creep in your jacket and toy with the gun hiding there. “Where is he…where is he…”, you’re almost whining under your breath, eyes quickly scanning every gambling table, trying to find his dirty blonde locks, but all you can see is the dark locks of some business mans or some people’s bold heads.

You can’t believe you lost him, one minute he was there, the other he was gone. You can’t help but blame yourself, you should’ve known. On the other side, you can’t even understand why he disappeared. A mixture of rage and fear takes over your body as you turn in the casino a second time, you can’t even think about telling the King that you lost his son. You can’t even see yourself going back to Jeonghan and see his disappointed look. Your heels click on the floor and you’re so close to calling the car’s driver to help you, when a loud noise catches your attention. A chair falls on the floor and your head immediately snaps towards the noise, your stomach dropping to your feet when you finally see the Prince’s blonde locks. He’s standing in front of a gambling table, one of his hands grips the edge. You’re about to rush towards him and make him leave as soon as possible, before you stop in your stack for a quarter of second. Your fingers leave the gun under your jacket, as a men you don’t know grips the Prince’s collar, bringing him closer to his body. You don’t think twice and your training and lessons kick in as you run towards the Prince. The men looks slightly older than him, sharp jawline thigh as he says something that you can’t catch. Around the other people back away instant of stopping the situation and before you can shout something, the Prince’s fist hit the men’s cheek. He lets go of his collar, letting Junhui take a step back, but before he can fully get away, the men is back on him. His fist is in the air but before he can lay a single finger on the Prince, you step in between. Your first instead is not push the Prince away, the men in front of you is too slow and you dodge his fist easily. Your presence seems to take him back, he waits a second before going back at the Prince who got closer to you. His pushes are weak and you stop him easily, before your own fist hits his jaw. A groan escapes his lips as his body hits the edge of the table.

“What the fuck ?”

The men’s hand creeps in his jacket and you already know what he’s trying to find, and you’re quicker at it, your fingers curl around the gun and immediately points it towards the men’s head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What the fuck was that ?”, you don’t care about his status anymore, the situation he got himself into was so dangerous, a few minutes and he would’ve been shot. You can’t even think about it, what if he got shot ? One hand run in your hair, shooting daggers at the men that looks outside the window of the moving car. He doesn’t say anything, his mouth is in a straight line, his neck is still red from the attack.

“You could’ve been shot !”, the words escape your mouth without a warning, and this time, his head turns, he looks at you, your heart skips a beat.

Apparently, the news are spread quickly in New Zealand, that’s the only thing you can think about as you’re once again standing behind the King and the Prince in the reunion room. The tension is thick, so palpable that it affects you as well, you don’t even know why. The King of New Zealand is all alone this time, and he doesn’t seem so nice anymore.

“We can’t have that.”, he finished, one of his hands flat on the wooden table.

“We don’t know what happened.”

You don’t know either. Your eyes stay on Junhui, his head hangs low, something is wrong, so wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it. They’re talking about him like he isn’t there and you don’t even know if he is mentally there anyways.

“As a friend, I think you should pay attention to your youngest son.”, the advice is supposed to be subtle but everyone in the room understand what he’s implying, taking the crown from Junhui and let his youngest have the throne.

“Junhui, you can leave.”, and your heart drops to your feet. He doesn’t have to ask twice and the Prince gets up from the wooden chair, the stridden sound of the legs on the floor echoes in the room. “Y/N, please, stay for a few minutes.”

Junhui walks beside you and for a quick second, he catches your eyes as he tries his best to keep his head up, his eyes are unreadable. When he leaves, the door quietly shut behind him, you wonder if you’re going to be fired, but the King doesn’t let you the time to think more.

“I thought it was getting better.”, his back is still facing you, your fingers intertwining behind your back.

“I thought so too, Your Majesty. I don’t know what happened.”, you truly don’t know how the situation slipped out of your fingers like that. Silence fill the room again, and you wished it stayed like that, the next question he asks you taking you back.

“Do you think he will make a good king ?”

And that’s when it hits you, he could be one, but he doesn’t want to.

“I-I don’t know.”, you voice cracks, who are you to decide that ? He, the King, doesn’t even know his son well enough to decide, that he’s asking you, who knows him for a month.

“You can go.”, and you don’t think twice before leaving.

As you leave the room, it’s like your shoulders finally ease, you let out a breath and wonder how you even got in that situation. Domestics walk in front of you, and you try to find Junhui’s silhouette in the corridor in front of you but he probably went as far as possible. Somewhere, you catch Yura’s eyes. The look she gives you says a lot, your façade’s crumbling down, you’re getting way too much involved in the Prince’s situation, but as she comes towards you, a whispered, “He’s on the rooftop.”, your legs run towards him by themselves.

You can’t help but gasp when you open the final door, after running up several stairs, the cold air makes you take a step back. You didn’t even know that you had access to the rooftop, and as you look around, you understand that not having access to it would’ve been a shame. The sun is going down, colouring the pale blue sky with a deep orange. Even from here, you can hear the hubbub of the streets. Some lights are starting to turn on in the streets, the market a few streets away finally closing. The rooftop is huge, but you don’t take more time to look around when you stop the Prince’s figure near the edge. He’s sitting, legs crossed, not worrying about the sand that’s going to stain his pants. The wind blows his hair back and as you walk closer to him, you noticed his closed eyes. He exhales deeply from his nose, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment, he swallows and as you sit near him, he opens them.

“I used to get up here every night when I was younger.”, he tells you, and even if you’re not sure why he is telling you that, you hums in response. You bring your knees closer to your chest, waiting for him to continue.

“Do you see them ?”, he asked moving his head towards the streets, the people walking there.

“Yeah.”, and you turn your head towards him, curious.

“I would get up here and imagine myself in those streets, a normal person.”, he pauses for a moment, head tilting to the side. “After I turned 10, my father refused to let me get on the rooftop again, apparently I could get killed. We wouldn’t want that for the future king, right.”, it’s not a question and you stay silent for a moment. You’re trying so hard not to get involved in the situation, stay as neutral as possible, but how can you ignore what he’s telling you.

“I wish I was someone else.”, his voice waves, and that’s when, finally, he lets you see his true self. His biting back his tears, and it’s your turn to drop your professional attitude. He isn’t the Prince, you’re not his bodyguard, you’re two humans opening to each other.

“You don’t want to crown.”, again it’s not a question, just a statement, an observation. A breathy laugh escapes his lips, water building up in the corner of his eyes. He looks up, blinding a few times. His hot breath creates a cloud, evaporating in the air before he clears his throat. “I never wanted it.”, he admits. Week : five. Week five, you’re not protecting the Prince anymore. You’re protecting Moon Junhui. The sun is starting to rise when you wake up, coming through the curtains, you quickly stretch your arms above your head. Your eyes find Junhui’s bed buy themselves, your door is opened and as you sit up, you try to find his figure on the sheets. You cock your head to the side, stretching a bit more before getting up of the bed. A few weeks before, and Junhui’s absence would’ve made you run in the castle to find him, but after his confession in the rooftop, something changed.

The cold wind erased his tears threatening to fall, and he asked you for the third time to call him by his name. The hurt in his words still lingers somehow in your memory, but his broken smile when you agreed still burns under your eyelids. His voice telling him he wants to leave still resonates in your ears and you try your best to keep the thought in the back of your head. He looks lighter, but your heart is heavier. You’re not supposed to get involved in your mission, yet here you are talking to the Prince like he’s an old friend. You two act like there aren’t any social difference behind closed doors. You find yourself telling him which clothes you like better on him, he tells you which weapons he wants you to carry for the day. You tell him which watch goes the best with his outfits, he gets your dress fixed. He tells you which artists he listens to, you tell him about underground singers. He tells you about his favourite movie, you tell him about your favourite book.

“Good morning.”, his voice snaps you out of your thoughts as he closes the door behind him. “You’re up early today.”, you notice, before going to the bathroom. Somehow, you’re getting used to the luxury of the place, you’re not chocked by all the gold but still feel homesick.

“Yeah, I had something to do.”, his body leans on the doorframe of the bathroom, you cock an eyebrow at his vague answer and look at him through the mirror. Junhui laughs a bit when you keep eyecontact as you brush your teeth, the sound resonating in the room. After four weeks of him being so detached, hearing him laugh so often was new, but it was growing on you. “What was so important ?”, you ask, washing your mouth, and you almost choke on the water when Junhui holds a certain object in front of him.

“Don’t die.”, his hand taps your back before you stand straight again, your eyes never leaving what he’s holding between his fingers.

“Where ? How ?”, you ask, before finally taking your phone from his grip.

“Ah, you know, I can do a thing or two for my favourite baby sitter.”, a smile tugs his lips.

The first person you text is Wonwoo. God knows how much you missed his snarky comments, the first text being him wondering if you died from the Prince’s cockiness. He acts unhappy to hear from you, but it’s like you can see his everlasting smirk enlighten by his phone screen. He asks about Junhui, he wants every detail of everything, he even asks how many girl he has every night. You know your phone is eventually on listen, everything you say gets stored in the archives of Jeonghan’s agency and you quickly change the subject and he doesn’t force. Wonwoo is still in Busan, and apparently, his mission is boring. That’s all he can tell you but you can only imagine how boring it must be to bodyguard a polished looking Prince like Prince Joshua, and you can’t help but compare it to your situation. You get news from Mingyu and Jeonghan, the two of them only have the time for a few texts before they have to go back to what they’re doing but both promise to text you tonight. And he indeed does, but you’re too occupied to answer.

“Junhui turn the volume down.”, you groan from your room, turning around in your bed. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t quiet catch. From your spot, you can barely make the outline of his body underneath the slick sheets. The tv flashes with colours en enlightens his figure at the rhythm of the loud movie he’s watching.

“Junhui !”, you whine again and can’t help but feel a bit weird when you only wall him by his name, and nothing else. His body moves, from laying on his side to his back, his neck lightly moving to look up but his face is still hiding in the dark.

“Come watch the movie with me.”

Week : Six. You have to keep yourself from cringing on the first day of the sixth week. The weather is biting your skin, and even with the thick leather gloves you’re wearing, you have to rub your hands together. You watch as clouds form whenever Junhui speaks, the cloud disappears around the mic he’s talking in. He has to slightly bend down, his fingers wrapping around the thin metal holding it up. He isn’t wearing any gloves and you notice how his knuckles are turning pink-ish, rings hugging every digits. The long black coat he’s wearing doesn’t seem to keep him safe from the weather as his knees shake from time to time, his legs that other people can’t see. Your eyes are scanning the crowd a bit down, unfamiliar faces gathering around to listen to Junhui’s speech. You personally don’t listen to it, not after hearing it a billion time when he was repeating it in his room. His voice is white noise but you snap out of your thoughts when the crowd applause and and cheers at the Prince’s final words. You see him lightly tug his white turtle neck closer before he gets next to you, and it’s his father’s turn to speak. Junhui’s keeping a smile on his face but you’ve grown to understand which one was the genuine smile, which one was the fake smile. You don’t see any lines towards his eyes and figure he’s growing his façade again, his eyes never leaving a certain point in the crowd. At first, you think it’s just a technic to stay focused somewhere and keep his posture straight, but as lines for between his eyebrows, you can’t help but follow his eyes. They aren’t fixed on the horizon, rather someone making and pushing it’s way in the crowd.

“Is something wrong .”, you ask him, you try to keep your voice quiet knowing how many cameras are following the Prince’s movements. You’ve learned to read every single one of his movements, he can’t say anything but you see his adam’s apple bob up and down and worry growing thick on his eyebrows. Cold air fills your lungs and he gives a small nod towards the crowd, and you look again. The person making it’s way towards the security fence looks more and more aggressive, playing with his shoulders. It all goes too quickly, a voice speaks in your ear, you recognise the one in charge of the security down in the crowd’s voice. He informs you of a person with a strange behaviour, he describes him as aggressive, dressed in dark colours but he’s attitude makes him stand out. He reaches the security fence and seems to stop there, from here, you can see his face, laced with anger and anticipation, but most importantly, you see his face. The business man from the casino. You feel it coming from miles away, adrenaline rushes in your body, your fingers suddenly burns and your skin stings, your eyes never wave away from the men but your attention immediately turns to Junhui when you see the outline of a gun in the men’s hand. It all goes too quickly, yet you manage to remember everything they thought you. Your arm immediately pushes Junhui away, you hear him tumble backwards. The doors of the balcony are open and he falls in the open area, but the bullet is already shot. It resonates in the entire street, people duck down as soon as they hear the noise and from the corner of your eyes you see the King’s own body guard protecting him with his body. Smoke comes out of the gun and before you can see if he’s arrested by the security down, your body is forced backwards by the force of the bullet. Pain takes over your body, nothing you never felt before but it’s the glass hitting the back of your head that shocks you, you hear your name. You black out. Week : Eight. There’s no week seven, because he didn’t come to see you. You still can’t believe it. Your head rolls back again, hitting the metal of the uncomfortable hospital bed.

“Easy, tigger.”, a voice makes you look up again, a pout forming on your lips. Wonwoo walks in your hospital bedroom, his nose scrunches at the smell of the building. His shoes click on the floor before he lets his body fall on his chair next to you. This chair, became his bed for the passing week. After the incident, he got to look after you, a sort of gift from Prince Joshua. It’s been a week and never did he leave your side. He was the first one you saw when you woke up, his sleepy face cracking into a smile when you groaned at the closeness of his body. His hand tossing a bottle of your favourite energy drink on the white sheet of the bed.

“Oh no, not him again.”, his voice resonated in the room again, his eyes looking at the small tv hanging on the wall. You were still sleepy and didn’t understand right away, your eyes following his.

“You need to stop with this.”, he said, his voice softer. The tv was on a new channel, playing again and again the image of the Prince being saved by none other than you. You couldn’t help it when you felt you heart sink, you couldn’t believe it, he didn’t come once. You could taste the bitterness on your tongue, sadness growing between your eyebrows but somehow, when Wonwoo’s hand tried to take the remote, your hand stopped him.

“Y/N.”, his voice called you, but you refused to look at him. Your eyes were glued on the tv screen, the sadness and incomprehension you were feeling for the past days were starting to fade away for pure anger. The image changed for the shooter, apparently, he had been arrested right after. His motives were unknown but he faced the worse sentence in court. After days, the news were still debating on who did it, and why. From time to time, the journalists would mention you, but they didn’t have a lot to say with the lack of information.

“Y/N, turn it off.”, your friend’s voice was a lot less sweet when his voice spoke again. His hatred for the Prince was something he didn’t hide, he hated the fact that you got hurt for him. Hatred dripped out of his tongue whenever he mentioned him, eyes narrow. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to turn the tv down, you don’t understand. Your fingers linger on the wound, almost healed, but you still feel where your skin got torn.

Week : Nine.

“I don’t understand !”

Weeks after, you still don’t. He doesn’t either.

His hair is messy from all the times he ran his hand between his locks. Sleep is still heavy on his eyelids, after all, you entered the castle when the night was starting to darken the sky. He was wearing a wrinkled white button, he probably fell asleep without changing but you couldn’t care less. The Prince stands still in front of you, still choked to see you here, in his room, at such an hour.

“How did you ge-”, he can’t even finish his sentence before you throw your hand above your head. “I worked here for weeks, I literally took a bullet for you, of course they’re going to let me in !” Anger and frustration are the two things driving your body, they were the one leading everything when you left the hospital and went straight to the castle, even with Wonwoo’s warning. “Why didn’t you visit ? Do I truly mean nothing to the crown ?”

“I didn’t kn-”­, his voice cracks and once again, you don’t let him finish. Your voice is loud and you don’t even care if domestics passing by can here you, you’re letting the frustration you felt this past week explode. You’re somehow still applying your lessons, trying to regulate your heartbeat and your breathing, not wanting to give in any other emotion.

“What ? You didn’t know where I was ? I thought you cared !”, pure sarcasm is in your voice, one of your hand lands on your forehead and you take the time to breathe, refusing to look at him. The last sentence seems to trigger something in him. For once, he takes a step closer, but he refuses to get too close to you.

“I was scared.”, his voice bounced on the walls and this time, you have to look at him. His eyes hold something you can’t understand, a mixture of desperation and sadness, his lips are puffy from how many times he bite them. “You got shot because of me. You got hurt because of me.”, and you can see his fist curling at his side, and now, you understand.

You can’t breathe, it hits you again, like when you understood that he didn’t want to be the future king.

“I care.”, the words linger in the air, they burn in your memory, just like the heat of his hands cupping your cheeks. “so much.”, he words are quiet, a whisper, you almost didn’t catch them. Your brain’s telling you to walk away, as far and fast as possible that’s not what you’re supposed to do. You can’t control your heartbeat anymore, that’s not what he’s supposed to do either when his lips crashes on yours, it’s desperate, rushed. You feel like your heat is about to explode when you finally kiss him back and he groans against your lips. Your fingers immediately finds his messy hair while his shaky hands find your waist.

“I’m sorry.”, he breathes on your lips, his forehead meets yours and he closes his eyes.

“Shut up.”, the words leave your mouth and your lips are back on his. The feeling is addictive, his body heat envelops yours, he’s taking over your sense and before you can hold it back, you moan against him. His hands are everywhere, from your waist, to your hips, your neck, he’s everywhere at the same time. The kiss leaves the two of you breathless and when he pulls away, his lips find another occupation, sucking a spot on your neck. Your body is burning and you arch your back against him, and he quickly pushes you against the wall, your shoulders hitting the surface. He’s panting against your neck, the tip of his nose traces your jawline and it’s only a whisper when he requests, “Touch me.” His words send a wave of heat through your body, your head gets dizzy as your throw it back from his new attack on your neck. “Y/N.” He’s begging and you can’t deny him, your shaky hand sneaks down his torso before fully touching his growing bulge, and the whine he lets out takes away all your sanity. He’s moaning from the small movements of your hand, his adam’s apple moves up and down, his teeth catching his lower lip. You find a kind of satisfaction in his neediness, your hands holding his jaw to meet his eyes. He’s trying so hard to keep his eyes open, lightly rolling back at the small pleasure you’re allowing him to get.

“What do you want ?”, you muse, his lips part, head back and you take the opportunity to suck under his jawline.

“Your mouth.”, he moans, and you’re almost scared someone will hear, “Please.” The plea is the last thing you can take, and you can’t deny the heat growing in the pit of your stomach either. Your knees hit the carpet of his bedroom and the image alone makes him whine weakly, one of his hand in your hair. His nails lightly gaze over your scalp when you work on his belt, too eager yourself to have the patience to completely take his pants off. Your heart beats against your ribcage, it resonates in your ears with Junhui’s breathy pants. You didn’t even touch him yet and he already looks wrecked, eyes blown wide, lips red. His bulge look painful against his black underwear, you don’t wait before tugging them down and he gasps as his shaft spread free against his stomach. He’s begging to be touched and you have to press your thighs together to get some relief.

“Touch me.”, he asks again, the sentence breaking when you finally wrap your hand around him. His moan lingers in the air and your hand starts moving up and down, detailing his face contouring with pleasure. “Look at me.”, you command when he closes his eyes. He swallows thickly, before he looks down and that’s when you allow yourself to wrap your lips around him. The effect is immediate, he’s fighting with himself to keep his eyes open and keep the eye contact, his grip on your hair tightening. Moans and whines slip through his teeth, and before he can control his body, his hips roll against your mouth.

“Hm, I never allowed you to move.”, you say, faking disappointment, a cry leaves his lips when your mouth leaves his shaft, and before you can even say something else, he’s tumbling on his words.

“Sorry, please, just-”, he pauses for a moment, lip caught in his teeth, he’s breathing through his nose, chest irregularly raising up and down, “I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t need to tell more before your wrap your lips around his head again, kitten licking and his other hand moves to his mouth, trying to stay quiet. You hum around him as you take more and more, and he finds it more and more difficult to stay still and stay quiet, especially when your tongue runs over his vein on the side. The room is growing hotter by the minute and you feel like you’ll combust if you don’t get him, now.

“What are you doing ?”, he cries out when the feeling of your mouth disappears again. Your ears are buzzing again and you shut up with your mouth again, and he doesn’t complain when his hands find your hips again. Yours finds the button of his button up, short breath are taken between kisses and when you have to take your shirt off, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

“You’re so beautiful.”, you don’t know if he’s talking to himself or to you when you’re only left in your underwear. It’s his turn to towards over you when he carries you on his bed. You don’t know what’s softer between the silk sheet against your hot body or Junhui’s gestures when his hands run on your body, and his lips leave a chaste kiss on the healed wound on your shoulder.

It takes your breath away, your vision blurry when you take the white fabric off of his shoulders, you can’t help but detail the little freckles on his shoulders, the way his collarbones move against his skin, the way his waist curves.

“Do you want this ?”, his voice is soft, a whisper, as his finger toys with the waistband of your panties. Blood rushes to your ears when you nod, you can’t find your words. His lips find yours again, they’re dancing with yours as he takes your underwear off. His chest his pressed against yours and for once, you fell safe. His index curls under your chin and his eyes met yours again as his head enters your cunt, the stretch is delicious and you can’t help but throw your head back on the pillows, a silent moan painting your lips. His movements are slow, he takes his time to fully push into you and he finds an equally slow rhythm at first. His lips find your neck again and when you get used to the feeling, your fingers creating moons on his shoulders, his hip starts moving faster and faster. Sweat forms on your hair line and as you look up at him, you notice a few locks of his dirty blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. Your hand pushes his hair back and he looks up at the gesture, and you can feel him smile against your skin.

A familiar knot grows in the pit of your stomach, and soon, you need more. Your leg hooks on Junui’s hip, your hand pushing his back flat on the bed. His surprised look quickly disappear when he realises what you’re doing, his hands guiding your hips and down, a moan tumbling from your lips. His neck and collarbones are glowing under the light, your movements grow faster and you try to ignore the burning of your thighs. You wonder if anyone is hearing Junhui, he isn’t hiding his broken moans and pants, he gasps when your movements get faster to bring to both of you to the edge. Some of his moans and groans could get the attention of anyone passing by but you couldn’t care less as he closes his eyes again. “Look at me.”, your hand creeps by itself on his neck, not applying much pressure but his eyes shot open at the gesture. It only takes a few more thrusts before you feel the knot burst, your eyes shut, lights dancing on your eyelids. Your walls tighten around him and he doesn’t hesitate to chase his own climax, moving his hips. A trail of curses fall from his lips, “Fuck, yeah”, whines and broken words fill the room, “Make me come, make me come.”, and you met his hips in one last thrust. You have to kiss him again to shut his loud moan threatening to break in the air, and soon enough, his panting against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Junhui.”, your voice is soft, as you leave a kiss on his cheek.

“Hm ?”, he hums, refusing to open his eyes as his chest irregularly rises up and down.

Junhui loved everyone, and everyone loved him. He’d never fail to give friendly smiles to the servants who worked in the palace, and bring colour to the townspeople’s monochrome lives with his odd sense of humour whenever he paid visits to the local market. He didn’t just have a pretty face; he had an amazing personality and top-notch manners to top it all off.

Jun also loved his parents. He deeply respected the King and Queen for ruling the country so brilliantly and bringing the country wealth and prosperity as well as happiness; a feat he doubted he would be able to do. He loved his mother and father for giving birth to him and showing him so many things he’d never known before.

What the second prince didn’t love, however, was the fact that he was denied of the freedom to choose his spouse.

He recalled being summoned into the throne room many years ago, when he was still a young boy ignorant of the world and the many problems around him. His father — the King — broke it to him that he’d have to marry a Princess from one of the neighbouring kingdoms. It was something about maintaining peace with the kingdom to avoid war; Junhui didn’t really understand at that time. He shrugged the news off, treating it as another piece of information he didn’t really understand.

It was only after he grew a little older and developed a crush on one of his classmates that he realised the true impact of his arranged marriage. He would’t be able to marry anyone he fell in love with, unless it was, well, the person he was supposed to marry. He grew to despise the idea of having someone choosing for him; especially when it was the person he’d have to spend his entire life with.

He grew to despise the idea of having to marry a Princess from a neighbouring kingdom; the idea of marrying you.

At one point, Junhui’s mother thought it’d be a good idea for him and his “future wife” to meet. He was only nine at that time, but he really didn’t want to see you. Or talk to you. Or play with you.

Unfortunately, your mother happily agreed to the idea of you going on a playdate with Jun.

So the two of you were pushed together, left alone to your own devices in a random room in Junhui’s castle as your mothers went off for high tea.

The boy crossed his arms and strode over to one of the corners of the room, sticking his tongue out at you. “I don’t want to play with you.”

You huffed in response, stomping your way to the corner right opposite his. “Me neither!”

“I don’t want to marry you,” the second Prince announced, throwing a sharp glare at you.

“You think I’d want to marry you?” You rolled your eyes, glaring right back at him. “Who would want to marry a stinky brat like you, anyway?”

“I am not a stinky brat!” He shouted, balling his hands into fists. “You’re the stinky bimbo! I don’t need a dumb princess as my wife!”

The next hour continued that way, the both of you throwing insults at each other with no mercy. It ended with you crying and Jun on the verge of doing so; the only reason why you hadn’t had a physical fight yet was because the two Queens rushed into the room just in time to stop things from getting worse.

Your first meeting only fuelled your hate towards each other, and your reluctance to get married to the other.

You both felt this animosity towards each other; it was unspoken, but everyone knew.

Ever since then, it became Junhui’s tradition to feign sickness on the nights your kingdom held special events, and vice-versa. Heck, it didn’t even need to be an event your castle held. It could be any event; as long as the boy heard you were going to attend, he’d make it his mission to miss out on it. It was the same for you.

Both your parents were getting sick and tired of your childish game.

In fact, it wasn’t just Jun’s parents; his servant and close friend, Minghao, was getting irritated as well.

“I’m not feeling well, Hao. I think I’ll skip this one,” Jun said, sinking comfortably into the sheets of his luxurious queen-sized bed.

Minghao let out a tired sigh, pinching his nose bridge. “Look, just quit it already,” he groaned, glaring at the prince. “There’s no escaping the fact that you’ll be married one day, so you might as well just face her now.”

Jun frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together. “After that horrendous first meeting? No thanks, I’d like to avoid talking to that rude girl for as long as possible.”

“You were just as rude, Junhui.”

The said prince let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up on his elbows to look at his servant, who was leaning against the door to his grand room. “I don’t want to meet her yet, okay? It just sucks that I have to be forced into this. And she clearly doesn’t want to meet me either, considering how she hasn’t been turning up for our events despite the invitations.”

Minghao mumbled a yes, your majesty before leaving the room, feeling extremely ticked-off.

Junhui sighed and threw himself back onto the pillow, praying he wouldn’t meet you anytime soon.

“Y/N! Get up and start packing,” you woke up to the sound of your mother’s high-pitched voice. “We’re going for a diplomatic meeting in a neighbouring kingdom.”

Still blinking your sleep away, you frowned. “Why do I have to go?”

“You’re nineteen, Y/N. It’s about time you got some first-hand insight on how things work to add on to your knowledge.” Your mother rummaged through your drawers and pulled out a white suitcase. “No more objections. We’re leaving in two hours.”

“Wait — how long are we staying there?” You rubbed your eyes, trying your hardest to suppress a yawn.

“Seven days, six nights.”

Now you were fully awake. “What the hell are we staying so long for? A vacation?”

“Language.”

With that, the Queen exited your dwelling, leaving you to pack one week’s worth of clothes and get ready for a royal meeting in two hours.

You groaned, finally kicking the sheets off you and stepping out of your bed. It’s going to be a long week.

The royal butler helped load your now full suitcase into the back of the car. You thanked him with a small smile before climbing into the black car and inserting yourself into the corner, leaning against the window. Your mother slid in next to you, immediately criticising your choice of dress. It was a long, light blue gown, and not as fancy as your mother would’ve liked. After all, it was just another diplomatic meeting — it’s not like you were going to impress someone.

“You should’ve worn the yellow one I got you the other day,” she chided, tearing your body away from the corner and making you face her. “You hair is a mess! You should’ve at least dried it!”

“You gave me two hours to pack for a week-long trip and to get ready, Mother,” you mumbled, sighing as she turned you around once again and worked her skilled hands along your hair to try and straighten the tangled strands.

“A princess must always look presentable, regardless of how long she is given to prepare,” your mother started lecturing you as the car started. “Especially when she is about to meet people from other kingdoms.”

Nodding your head emotionlessly, you blocked the rest of her lecture out, returning back to your corner when she was done trying to make you look a bit more presentable. When she was finally done chattering about her mother and the beatings she had to endure because she wasn’t up to standard, you asked, “Which kingdom are we going to?”

The Queen smiled, an excited look passing through her eyes. “You’ll see.”

You were busy napping for about ninety-percent of the ride to the oh, so exciting kingdom named ’You’ll See’ , so you didn’t realise the roads that were taken were the ones that led to a horrid memory you couldn’t erase.

It only dawned on you on exactly whose kingdom you were in when your eyes blinked open as you arrived at the castle front.

Immediately, you shot awake, any remnants of sleep instantly disappearing as you looked around, not truly believing where you’d arrived.

“Mother,” you gulped, turning to face the woman who wore a pleased expression on her face. “Isn’t this — Junhui’s—”

The said woman beamed as the car halted and the passenger door swung open. “Yes.” She stepped out of the black vehicle just as the door on your side jerked open, making your heart fill with dread.

Oh, dear lord, please help me.

You gingerly got out of the car, hastily wiping away the drool that was on your cheek. Hurrying to join your mother’s side,  you tried your best to straighten your slightly crumpled dress as she stepped in front of the doors, holding onto her purse.

Please, don’t open.

Much to your dismay, the grand double doors creaked open, revealing a —

Whoa.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes widened, taking in the sight in front of you. He was barely recognisable — half of his fringe was gelled up, and he stood devastatingly tall in a full suit, completed with a tie. Gone were his features that you’d criticised ten years ago— they were replaced by lips, eyes and a nose that were nothing short of perfect.

Wen Junhui looked gorgeous.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes running up and down your figure. His mind was reeling, wondering as to why you were here, why his mother hadn’t given him a warning beforehand, and how you managed to look so stunning when he remembered insulting your bugs-bunny teeth in that damned room a decade ago.

If he were being very honest, Jun wanted nothing more than to stare at you all day and get to know you better over a cup of tea; perhaps even apologise for the snarky comments he’d made about your behaviour and appearance all those years ago. If he had known you’d transform into this beautiful girl, he would’ve treated you like a queen.

In that moment, he was more than grateful that you were going to be his wife.

Then he recalled your mean comments and constant death glares directed at him; Jun had to stop himself from pushing you out of the castle as the feeling of awe and wonder disappeared as quickly as it came.

A nudge from his mother reminded him where he was and what he was supposed to do, so he stepped forward to take your hand, pressing a light kiss onto the back of it. “Welcome,” he greeted with a charming smile, letting your hand go. Your breath caught in your throat when you realised just how more alluring he was up close, but you recovered quickly, turning the ends of your lips upwards to thank him with a small curtsy.

Your mothers exchanged hugs, and Junhui took a small step back from you. The silence was awkward as you fiddled with your dress, suddenly wishing you were wearing something fancier.

Once the two Queens had finished with their small reunion, a servant with cute elf-like ears led the four of you to the meeting room. You noticed how Junhui glared at the poor servant, and how the servant constantly shot the second prince apologetic smiles, mouthing something along the lines of listen, there’s more coming up.

Suppressing a yawn, you took your seat at the round table, bowing to the King. Junhui took his seat next to yours, clearly uncomfortable, as seen from how straight his back was.

The meeting went by depressingly slow, and you had half a mind to excuse yourself to the toilet and stay there till the meeting was over. Jun himself seemed to be dozing off, if not for the fact that his mother was constantly nudging him under the table, preventing him from falling asleep. You weren’t quite sure what the learning objective of the two-hour long discussion was, other than a. Junhui’s father was a terribly long-winded man and b. his servant with the cute ears went by the name of Minghao.

It finally came to an end when the King cleared his throat, announcing that he was to attend yet another meeting in about an hour, and that everyone was now dismissed. You stood up a little too excitedly, stretching your numb limbs after being in the same position for so long, eager to go home.

“Princess Y/N,” Minghao started, lowering his head politely, “Our butlers have already unloaded your luggage. I’ll take you to your room, unless you’d like Prince Junhui to?”

At that, your jaw slackened, the surprise evident in your face. You completely forgot that you’d be staying for a whole week. Blinking as you tried your best to wipe the shock off your features, you were about to answer him when Jun interrupted.

“What do you mean, take her to her room?” The disbelief was etched into his voice as he rose from his seat, walking towards you and Minghao. The servant watched as the taller Prince came to a stop beside you, the height difference between you two making you feel incredibly small.

“Our dear Y/N will be staying over for a week, Junhui,” the Prince’s mother explained, looking between the three of you with a disgustingly sweet smile. It made you want to puke as you took note of how forced it was.

“I wasn’t told of this,” the said Prince argued, clearly angry.

“That’s because you would’ve been completely against it, dear,” the woman’s smile stretched across her face as she gestured towards you. “How about you take Y/N to her room? It’s the one next to yours.”

Junhui looked like he was about to punch the living lights out of his mother before he caught his father shooting him a stern glare. Turning his head away, he sighed in resignation as he regarded you, the hate still evident in his eyes. It made you wince a little.

“Wait — then where’s my mother staying?” You asked, suddenly coming to realise that your mother hadn’t said a thing since the whole affair had started.

You shifted your gaze away from Jun’s and to where your mother was standing. She was visibly avoiding eye contact, and you could read her like an open book. She fidgeted nervously, guilt evident from her body language. The room was eerily quiet as everyone watched the mother and daughter.

She’s not even staying. Your confused eyes turned into furious ones as you tore your eyes from her figure, choosing to glare at the carefully polished tiles beneath you. She lied to me.

“Let’s just go,” you mumbled under your breath, knowing that you were inevitably acting like a spoilt brat in front of not only your mother, but in front of another kingdom’s King and Queen.

And your future husband.