#startroyal

father—ahem, his majesty always nags that he should treat her with kindness (a happy wife is a happy life, or so he says), but sejong would rather bother himself with less—for even on a good day, he can barely remember her name. so he just stands there, behind emboldened double doors, adjusting his uniform and (impatiently) waiting for the guards to finally announce their entrance.

“try not to embarrass me,” he snides, eyes glancing to his side briefly as he sighs, begrudgingly stepping closer to her as time ticks on. “if you ruin my reign before i even get crowned, i swear, i’ll have your head.”

jayeong watches them, the prince and the duchess—ah, the princess now—from her lowly spot on the ballroom floor, beside a man she should call her own but can’t bear to even begin to think so. instead, she watches with scornful yet envious eyes, claps along with others and hopes her dreariness doesn’t stand out.

she should be grateful; her appointment as the princess’ lady-in-waiting has skyrocketed her reputation far past the one of being a modest count’s daughter—an arranged marriage of her own to an esteemed general of the military, her family (and her future) is set for life.. so why isn’t she happy?

maybe it’s karma, for desiring something (or rather, someone) so far out of her own reach. prince sejong, just his name causes a whirl of butterflies in her stomach. how pitiful, for she’s sure he doesn’t even know hers.

“don’t they look lovely?” empty words spoken from an even emptier heart—she feels like she’s lost him, even though she knows he wasn’t even hers to begin with. “everyone’s already calling them the couple of the century. how fitting, don’t you think?”