Sojung doesn’t look up from the parchment she’s poring over when she hears the two knocks on her door. “Come in,” she calls.

“Gongjunim,” comes a familiar voice.

Sojung’s fingers tense around her brush and she has to force herself to keep a steady hand lest she spill ink on a page. “How can I help you, Consort Jung?” she asks politely, keeping her eyes on her work.

Yerin remains silent.

“Surely you did not come here merely to look at me,” Sojung says, making sure to keep her voice light.

“Would that displease you, gongjunim?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sojung snaps, her patience not wearing thin so much as leaving her altogether.

“I apologize. What should I address you by instead?”

Sojung closes her eyes. “You know that I want you to call me what you always have.”

There’s a pause before Yerin replies. “And you know that things are no longer as they once were. It is not healthy to wish otherwise.”

Then what are you doing here? Sojung wants to ask, but she presses her lips together to keep the words in. It would not be good for either of them if she lost her restraint now.

“Consort Jung,” she sighs, finally meeting Yerin’s eyes. They’re carefully guarded, as per usual, but if Sojung looks closer she feels like she can see her childhood friend under the veneer of her brother’s wife. “Yerin,” she whispers, unable to stop herself. “What do you want from me?”

Yerin swallows. “I do not desire anything of you other than your friendship again,” she says, so measured and steady that Sojung wonders if she practiced saying those words.

Sojung sighs. “You never lost my friendship, Yerin.”

“But you do not ever wish to spend time with me,” Yerin says quietly. “Even when I approach you, as I did today, you act as if you wish to be a hundred feet away from me. Do you find me that repulsive?”

Sojung gives a short laugh. “If only I did. I think that would make life easier for us both.”

“I don’t want life to be easier if it means you aren’t in it,” Yerin says, finally abandoning her formal, stilted speech. The dainty, proper mask that’s always on her face now crumbles, and Sojung can see her Yerin underneath, the girl who snuck pastries from the kitchen with her and preferred cricket fights to embroidery lessons.

“Yerin…” Sojung trails off, at a loss for words. What could she possibly say to make this better or easier? She wishes she could say that they chose their paths and have to walk upon them now, but there is little choice in their lives.

She knows that she’s privileged to be part of the royal family, to be born with a silver spoon in and waited on hand and foot. Her father has always given her the most beautiful clothing, the most exquisite jewellery, the most extensive lessons. Her brother has always been kind and doting to her, personally teaching her horseback riding and gifting his most prized stallion to her when she succeeded, bringing her back lovely presents every time he returned from a trip. He often asks her if there’s anything she lacks, and she can hardly tell him that the only thing she wants is his wife.

“Never mind,” Yerin says. “Please forgive me for my rudeness and indiscretion, gongjunim. I have spoken out of line and I hope you will not pay my silly words any mind.”

“Yerin—”

“I shall take my leave now. I hope I have not disturbed you too much.” Yerin bows – a textbook one, the exact angle that is taught in court etiquette – and retreats before Sojung can say another word. Sojung can do nothing except stare after her, a position that she is more and more familiar with these days.

“Oh, she’s finally gone. Thank the heavens.”

Sojung stiffens for a second before the voice of her gungnyeo registers in her mind and she relaxes. Well, Sinbi’s not exactly her gungnyeo, but that’s the closest thing to describe her. Sojung would happily call Sinbi her friend, but her father often reminds her that those who are not noble or high-ranking are not and can never be her friends.

“I don’t know why you put up with her,” Sinbi says with a curl of her lip.

“Sinbi,” Sojung says in warning.

“Oh come on, she’s so stiff you could probably use her as a washing board. I wonder why the crown prince favours her so much – she’s probably totally different around him. Ugh, I can’t stand women like that.”

“Not everyone can be like you,” Sojung says dryly. “In the court, a lady is expected to be demure and refined.”

“Aren’t you glad you have me then, unnie?” Sinbi always calls her gongjunim or another royal title in front of others, but behind closed doors she drops the pretence and calls her unnie. It’s…nice, but it also reminds Sojung of someone else. A girl who used to be bright and playful, until she learned to be a demure and refined lady of the court. “You’d be surrounded by a bunch of washing boards otherwise.”

Sojung barely smothers a laugh, disguising it as a cough. “I really don’t think it’s proper to call them that.”

“Come on, unnie, aren’t you tired of being ‘proper’?”

Tired can’t even begin to describe it.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it,” Sojung finally says. “It only matters that I have to do it. I’m the eldest daughter of the king and everything I do and say reflects upon him and the kingdom. There is no room for error.”

“Is there room to be human then?” Sinbi asks challengingly.

Sojung sighs again. She’s been doing it a lot lately. “Sinbi…”

“Never mind,” Sinbi says, mimicking Yerin’s tone so perfectly that it makes Sojung’s heart clench. “Please forgive me for my rudeness and indiscretion, gongjunim. I have spoken out of line and I hope you will not pay my silly words any mind.”

Sojung bites down on her inner cheek so hard she almost draws blood. “You know, you have an amazing memory. If only you applied it to your studies, you would make a fine scholar.”

“What’s the point of that? So I can be a smart and not just pretty vase in some minor nobleman’s home?”

“Sinbi.” Sojung sounds pained.

“Sorry, unnie,” Sinbi says, petulant but genuine. “I know you’re stressed already. I shouldn’t be adding to it. The thing is – if I were your precious Consort Jung, I would treat you a lot better. I would make you smile instead of frown all the time. I would let you know how special and important you are, not because you’re the gongjunim but because you’re you.”

And, completely stunning Sojung, Sinbi presses her lips to Sojung’s cheek before rushing out of the room with a flaming face.

Sojung falls back in her chair and looks at the ink scattered all over her parchment as she wonders what just happened.

A/N: This is my first time writing a historical AU. I've probably messed up with the titles. I tried to follow this article but it just got super confusing (seems like everyone is called mama). If I've made any glaring errors, please correct me.

At the moment this is just a oneshot. I do want to continue it but I don't have any concrete plans. I might just end up writing little ficlets in this universe that don't necessarily follow chronologically. These characters are definitely pulling at me to write more. ETA: Writing more!