What was more foreign to Byul than having a hoard of Englishmen crowd around her ballroom? 

It was the feeling of their drunken, lustrous looks of desire boring into her body; not her head, or her eyes, but rather the bodacious frame that encased Byul's rather petite skeleton. Their blue eyes of wondrous lust and sinful deceit explored every inch of her glorious, crimson gown, undressing it explicitly with the crawling of their adventurous gazes. Their tongues poked promiscuously out of their mouths, giving their chapped lips a tempting before averting their eyes to the glaring glower of the queen's herself. The shrunk back immediately, feeling a mysterious shudder travel down their spine, the air suddenly growing cold.

Byul was not known as the Snow Queen for nothing.

"My Lady. King Philip has arrived." Ho Dong bowed politely, shooting Byul a civil smile, before standing side to reveal a regally dressed male. He had a long goatee, a brunette moustache framing his upper lips as his long, shoulder length curls cascded down from the top of his head lusciously. His dark eyes were enticing, dark and mysterious with a glint of authority sparking behind them. He had to be years older than Byul, and with that fact added to his gaze devouring her physical appearance, a subtle uneasiness set into the contents of Byul's churning stomach. "My pleasure," the male voiced charmingly. He extended his hand, grasping Byul's gently befor pressing his hard lips to the surface of her ginger knuckles.

She hated it, the coarse sensation of his prickly facial hair stabbing into her flesh; Byul also detested the hardness of his chapped lips grazing roughly against the smooth of her milky skin. She retracted her limb away reluctantly, a hesitant glare forming behind her clouded irises. "Nice to meet you," she nodded curtly before returning to her seated position, "I hope you come with only the sole intent of enjoying the feast," she added quickly. "I have no plans to be wedded to a man that is so foreign to me and my people."
The Spanish king shot Byul an incredulous look, one that reflected Ho Dong's dubious glare. Contempt simpered at the Spaniard's features, teeth bearing as he pulled his lips back into a tight frown. 

"I mean it," Byul reiterated, returning his hostile glance. "For you to think that  Korean monarch like I would ever be willing to marry one of you Europeans is wishful thinking. There is absolutely no way --"
"My Lady, please --"
Byul turned to Ho Dong then, with an eyebrow raised. Her eyes lifted with question - a dare for her secretary to speak, but nothing came. "Think about it," Byul elucidated hastily, returning her glance back to the Spanish monarch kneeling cantankerously before her. "If not religion, then there's also the customary differences, the tradition, the foods, the wardrobe -- everything differs too much between us. If I m ever going to marry, it would not be to you, but to --"

"My Lady, please."

Byul clamped shut, lifting herself off her chair, with Philip rising to his feet and following suit as Byul leered down the steps to the main dancefloor. Her eyes glanced around, flickering from one dancing body to another. Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, Turkish troops -- they were all here in favor of wedding Byul. And she wanted none of them. She turned to Ho Dong, neglecting the catechizing gazes she received from her vassals, that were seemingly spread out across the perimeter.

"Summon him," Byul whispered surreptitious to Ho Dong. The latter fell back, expediting Byul's shortening fuse. "I said, summon him," she repeated in a low growl.
Ho Dong bit at his lip hesitantly, a low sigh dropping from his lips as he bowed his head, hands tied behind his back. "Whom, my Lady?" He inquired her despite his already knowing; however, it was his duty to aquire her confirmation before fully carrying out the task.
Byul turned to glare at him whole-heartedly before gritting her teeth together, ruthlessly seething, "Summon Lu Han to my court, immediately. Bring. him. here."

He knew it.

He just didn't want to believe it. What was she thinking?

My Lady, what are you thinking?

"Y-ye.."