The air was thick with perfume and powder. The whole situation would have fit in a very moving and romantic story of a man and a woman finding love with each other. But reality sunk in and it was almost comical.

The palace hired a new maid and poor girl just didn't know how to powder Her Highness properly without making her look like a century-old ghost back to haunt those who wronged her. The princess sat very still in her chair — the gruesome lessons she loathed so much was now second nature — closing her eyes as her mind strung up different names of flowers that she could recall from the very recess of her mind and memory. Trying with all of her might to stifle her laughter and maintain composure, she bit her inner cheeks and and folded her hands neatly on her lap as she waited patiently for her handmaiden to calm down.

As the ruckus died down, she slitted an eye to see what was happening and saw her maid struggling to decide which colour of rogue on the ever-serene princess is most suitable for the very most important occasion of her life.

"Red," Her Highness sighed, "the red rogue would be nice."

The maid nervously glanced at her and cracked a grin before collecting herself. She prostrated down on her knees and apologised. At that, the princess asked, no commanded, her maid to stand up and a thought crossed her mind. It shall be a very long day indeed. 

The Royal Court announced the arrival of the Princess of Hubaekje. The King sighed again for the umpteenth time. So here it comes, the tedious matter of arranged marriage. His mother told him that the princess is a very beautiful lady with grace and wit that can be compared to none. The King thought that it should be befitting for a princess because if otherwise she would have been a failure. 

As the consort of Hubaekje entered, the King kept his eyes glued to the floor, already resigning to the fate because if he was being honest, the country needed an heir and therefore a queen. Of course it is just a of luck that this royal candidate is the princess of the rebellious nation that he conquered. If all goes well, marrying this chit would dampen the rebellious efforts. But if all goes south, well a war it is.

Introductions were made and The King was certain that a few conversations were exchanged but he allowed his mother and brother to carry it on. His mind was too busy planning, thinking, ruminating, suggesting...

"So what do you say Your Majesty? Is it not a brilliant idea?" He heard someone asking. 

He didn't know who asked, he wasn't paying attention and frankly he didn't care. So he did what is acceptable without giving himself away.

"Ahh," he simply responded.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother smirked which never failed to raise his annoyance. 

"Well then, we'll let you meet the princess," someone said. 

The King lifted his eyes, his face gave no hints of emotions. He saw the veil being lifted and the face that was hidden behind it was as mesmerising as the sunsets in Goryeo. Quiet in its beauty but strong in its effect. Oh he was taken aback. And amused. He has heard rumours of this chit, beautiful and smart. While the former is an understatement, the latter has yet to be proven correct.

The princess bowed and muttered a greeting, he couldn't hear above the haze clouding his mind. Irritation is also what he felt, he realised, because surely it'll have to take more than a pretty face to stir up emotions in him. He reasoned it might be due to his long hours of reading reports. But something egged at him that he knew better. 

She will be your downfall.

As if! He bowed his head again and chuckled. Well at least she's not an eyesore. 

Then they were married a few weeks later.

The King found out that his new bride bit her tongue when she had a caustic reply and gave away her smiles far too easily. She was also very quiet, sometimes too quiet that he reminded himself to never underestimate her. The chit is smart but too kind. Yesterday he saw her helping one of the maids carrying a trunk of her clothes to her room. His mother chided at that, exclaiming that servants are servants and we are their superiors. 

"Show them unnecessary kindness and they'll stab you in the back," his mother asserted. 

He had to admit that he was humbly impressed and that was no easy feat. Of course this could just be a facade that she put on to win favours; whose he has yet to figure out; but if her kindness is genuine then poor chit could never survive in this world.

He almost felt sorry for her.

She came to his room one night, when he was just about to call it a day. It's true they have not consummated their marriage, or rather he has not been making any advances or giving any hints for that matter, but he ought that his little mouse of a bride would wait until he calls upon her. As the servants announced her arrival to his chamber once more, he righted himself, schooled down is emotions and made certain his face unreadable and allowed permission to enter.

She walked with commendable grace that could've made the beggars weep with sadness. They were married for a month now and have only seen each other no more than three times. The first of course being right after their wedding ceremony when they walked back to their respective courts. The second time was when they dined together for lunch because his mother instructed them to. Safe to say they were both rather displeased with the notion. And the third time was when they bumped into each other while he was doing inspection around his majestic palace and she took a morning leisure stroll. He saw her bending down to smell an isolated flower on the ground and made a remark to her maid that caused easy laughter. The air was light then and very bright. It made his chest expand if that was possible.

And now would be the fourth time. At his court in his room. The Queen of Goryeo, his wife, sat down across him at a table in the center of his bedchamber, looking lke she owned the room. He felt another nagging in his brain, not liking the way she commanded herself. Silence stretched as the servants brought in tea. They were about to pour a cup for the King and Queen when the Queen herself stopped and dismissed them.

"I'd like to talk to you, Your Majesty," she broke the silence. 

She picked up a cup, placed it on the saucer and lifted the teapot to pour the fragrant hot tea. 

"Talk or hit the sheets?" He dropped all grace and manner a great King should possess and ht the arrow bullseye.

The Queen learned that her King has no talent to mince words when he chose not to. But if he does, he speaks in labyrinth that made her head throb in annoyance.

"Ah about that you take your time. I'm in no hurry," his wife, he regarded, has found her footing in his palace.

"I'm not intrigued yet, my wife," he added the endearment to rile her up. Anyone else would not have noticed the slight twitch in her hands but he did. And it pleased him that he did in fact, got on her nerves.

"Hmm," she poured herself a cup, and took a sip, "your loss."

He chuckled and was about to dismiss her for wasting his time when she actually surprised him.

"What about Yuan?" his wife asked.

He realised their eyes never met when they speak. He cannot gauge her purpose for wanting to know about the one nation that has been threatening the sovereignty of his country. But he could guess and usually his guesses are either so accurate or almost accurate.

"There are rumours that Hubaekje are training soldiers to break down Goryeo's walls," he strategically dodged the bullet.

"Goryeo is also my country, Your Majesty," she would not allow her King to doubt her loyalty. The truth however dies with her.

He sat back, his sleepiness and tiredness long forgotten. He would be a fool if he thought peace would be graced upon Goryeo and Hubaekje after their union. If anything, he reasoned that it would only increase their chances to break free from Goryeo and claim the blessed lands as their own while effectively overthrow him. There is no mistake in that but what he would like to confirm is if his quiet little wife an accomplice as well. 

"Do you like to play baduk?" He got up and retrieved the boards and its pieces. He didn't wait for an answer to set the game up.

"If I am to be interrogated," the Queen was about to interrupt but the King continued, "I'd rather play baduk while at it."

And he raised his eyes. She saw something crossed over it, an emotion that she has never seen but recognised so well. For it is that look the very reason he earned his nicknames. The Great King. The title is lame in its name but so accurate in its representation. For it is only now she understood the full meaning and depth. It is a title that spoke defy him and face his wrath at your own peril. 

She understood what he meant. If she were to fork out any information from him, he would do the same to her.