I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,   
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:   
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,   
secretly, between the shadow and the soul. 

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries   
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,   
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose   
from the earth lives dimly in my body. 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,   
I love you directly without problems or pride: 
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love, 
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,   
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,   
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

Pablo Neruda, “One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII”

 

...

 

The crisp, aromatic aroma filled the early dawn with a sweet aftertaste. As the sweeping gust of comforting air breezed through the heat on the newly harvested crops and plantations, the reassuring amenity of peace and serenity suffused through the estate. 

 

 

 

 

     Joohyun warily strolls through the rows of fruits and vegetables that lay in front of her, avoiding swampy, soggy manholes and puddles in the rich soil. She clutched tightly onto her straw hat as the placid wind glided around her, before sighing in relief and closing her eyes with a satisfied smile on her alluring features. 

 

 

 

 

In her chartreuse velvet surcoat , it eased her mind now that she was now wearing a white lace mantilla over the crown of her head instead of the dreary, ebony lace she had worn in her mourning - she did not have to appear to carry a burden when she is instead relieved of what had held her back for so long. 

 

 

 

Time has passed since, and the swell of her belly has grown tremendously - she is expected to deliver her child in less than a month. 

 

 

 

She brushes her warm palms over the linen undercoat, and gently soothes comforting and rubs over her abdomen.  A warm smile like the bright sun appears on her face, softening the lines and wrinkles that had formed and taken her youth in the midst of stress and exhaustion, as she waited in anticipation for the arrival of her offspring. 

 

 

 

 

Laughter echoed around her, as her servants and farmer’s children ran around covered in mud and stained their oversized wool clothing while their parents struggled to catch up with them. 

 

 

 

 

“”Daehyun, not in front of Lady Bae!” 

 

 

 

“You can’t catch me now, Father!” 

 

 

 

Joohyun shook her head in amusement over the naivete and unrefined carelessness the youth carried around them, and gleamed at them maternally as if they were her on children. One day, she will have a child of her own, who has a piece of her in them, and resembles her in a way that cannot be simply understood than by a mother herself. 

 

 

 

 

     Her child is the only remaining legalized progeny of her late husband, who bares his name and shall have no contest in inheriting his vast lands and properties that he has acquired in his conquests. 

 

 

 

 

No matter what she may say or think about her husband otherwise, she cannot deny that he was a brilliant, astute general and strategist who led his faction and army with all his might, until the very end. 

 

 

 

“Dowager L-Lady Bae! Lady Bae!” 

 

 

The grating, shrill shrieks from her teenaged servant suddenly came ringing in her ear, making her turn around in an unanticipated shock, making her heart beat surreptitiously fast without warning. 

 

 

 

    “Yes, Nana?” 

 

Nana seemed embarrassingly apologetic with her wandering eyes and rosy cheeks with her head hung low, as she avoided eye contact with her mistress. She fiddled with her chubby fingers, and tugged onto her sleeves. 

 

 

 

 

“A special guest has arrived for you, My Lady. It is Lord Kim Taehyung who wishes to meet you.” 

 

 

 

Joohyun blinks nonchalantly at her maid, before shrugging her shoulders and making her way towards the front gates unhurriedly. 

 

 

 

 

“Well, he is a guest after all - What are we waiting for? Let him in!” 

 

…

 

 

 

Kim Taehyung hops off his mounted stallion with a boxed, toothy grin filled with gratefulness and trepidation of his warm welcome into the foreign household. 

 

 

 

“Dowager Lady Bae, I am forever in debt towards your unselfish kindness and charity in my favour. I am at your service until the end, my Lady.” He genuflects solemnly, brushing a soft peck on her pale knuckles attentively. 

 

 

 

As his blond hair is tucked in by his crimson velour feather hat, it suddenly comes to her that he is beginning to look more like his wretched father as the day passes by, yet he is nothing like him in nature. The Haeyang faction patch sewed onto his armband stares at her blatantly, which she struggles to ignore. 

 

 

 

     She marches ahead slowly past the gilded, iron guarded gates and towards the blooming, sprawling gardens that have burgeoned in the fair weather that blessed the countryside 

 

 

 

 

“Why, it must be I who must appreciate a visitor who is taking time out of his eventful day to visit a lonely, miserable pregnant woman. Please do feel welcome and join me for some tea and supper, Lord Kim.” She jests lightheartedly, loosening his grip on her palms before urging him to rise from his knees. 

 

 

 

 

“No matter the occasion, the kingdom cannot simply just forget about you, My Lady. I am sure that once they are in the Red Keep, they are also keeping you in their well wishes as well, and praying for you and your child’s health. If it is the Lady’s greatest desires to invite me, than I ask for nothing more. ” His fruity chuckles sound warm and deep like honey to her ears, as she can hear the sincere joy seeping from his tone easily. 

 

 

 

 

“I am just hoping both the Grand Princess and Lord Min have received my letters of apology for being unable to come in time, but if I have heard correctly, you, Lord Kim, shall be attending the ceremony in official courtesy - if I heard that correctly-”

 

 

 

He looks away in distraught and humiliation with a glum frown on his face, and his hands sweatily wiping against his garnet girdle by his hips. It seemed that rather than feel pleased and  accomplished over his acknowledgement as a legal son and heir - everything about him indicated that he despised this ruling, and wished it never happened. 

 

 

 

“You have heard right, My Lady. I am there to support and represent my family, my father, my brothers, my sister, and my cousins.” 

 

 

 

 

“Will your brother, Lord Kim Junmyeon, be present as well? News spreads that he now resides with the brothers of the Faith, yet nothing has been confirmed if he shall be allowed to attend before the completion of his studies?” 

 

 

 

 

 

“Seokjin-hyung told me that from his letter this morning, the friars had granted him special permission to attend and watch his cousin be happily married, yet only from the sidelines as Father and Uncle would not allow it.” 

 

 

 

 

“I am sure your father would not approve of our meeting either, but you have persisted. Your father must have forgotten that his sons all have his adamant, relentless qualities.” 

 

 

 

 

Their journey halted just as they had reached the front lawn of the intricate, complex carved marble fountain of the previous generals and lords who had reigned over the house centuries before, as silence reigned supreme with nothing but the constant stream of the water from the fountain. 

 

 

 

“My Lady, please do not be mistaken, but I am not my Father in the degree you may have assumed. I am not here as a spy to reveal your secrets to the Haeyang faction, when I have sworn no other faction than to my loved ones and friends, no matter what family they come from or which side they hail from, as I care about them more than anything at all. These factions are walls meant to spur unnecessary instability and antimony among all of us, when we are all in this world for one purpose - to love and live for what and who matters the most to us.” 

 

 

 

His cobalt eyes pierced her with such unabashed promise and sincerity that it had gone unnoticed between them that he had intertwined his roughened, calloused fingers around her softer appendages, before she flinches away suddenly. 

 

 

 

 

“You are a good, kind-hearted and intelligent young man, Lord Taehyung. The Seven Kingdoms will prosper into a better place with your way of thinking and determination, Taehyung - I pray to persist and stick to it. Don’t let the world stomp it out of you.” 

 

 

 

He stares at her in disorientation and bemusement, as his mouth unconsciously forms into a pout, and his blinking becomes more frequent before he breaks out into pleasant laughter and a wide smile. 

 

 

 

 

“It means a lot coming from you, My Lady. The world is wide and full of potential, no matter how dreary it can become, but there’s always something to look forward to. It may happen slowly and take a long time, but slow and steady wins the race!” 

 

 

 

 

 

She nods in agreement as they turn inwards from the left corner, and make their way inside the lavish living room that was now bare of any signs of mourning and grief, and returned to its usual routine of grandeur and extravagance. 

 

 

 

 

     Failing to lead him towards the plush couches and feigning to remember his unfamiliarity of her manor, they collide ungracefully before she lets out a yelp before he encircles around her swollen abdomen with one arm and around her shoulders with another. 

 

 

 

 

“L-Lady Bae, I apologize for my clumsiness- Have I hurt you in any way?” His eyes grow wide in fear and shock, as his bushy eyebrows are raised in alarm and he softens his grip around her before assisting her to sit down. 

 

 

 

She takes a deep breath as she clutches onto the side rests for support, repeatedly inhaling and exhaling steadily to calm her circulation. With concern, Joohyun frets over the safety of her child, whose heart rate fortunately remained steady and unbothered. 

 

 

     When in fact, it isn’t necessarily their collision that had caught her off guard the most, when it was the moment his fingers had brushed against her midsection - her unborn child softly kicked against her internal walls and felt by someone else other than her. 

 

 

 

“I-I am alright, Lord Kim. If it were not for your saving, who knows what would have happened to me.” She brushed it aside in a half hearted chortle, before a servant promptly places hot cups of tea and baked pastries in front of them. 

 

 

 

The Queen had previously written to her about her numerous pregnancies, and how that no matter how many times she has delivered children - the prominent sign of movement from one’s child always seems memorable each time - even if she has had four successive pregnancies in the past. 

 

 

 

Like any mother, she was bursting with joy to share it to whoever her companion was, about this life-changing milestone in her motherhood, that someone else other than her has experienced the closest thing she had felt, but with Taehyung? 

 

 

 

The suspicious distance they had stood from one another as not only an unmarried, platonic relationship, but as one of mutual respect and chivalry was already disquieting and concerning enough - she was asking for a scandal to happen.  

 

 

 

 

As if her obvious glances haven’t aroused enough gossip.  

 

 

To make things worse - they were from opposite factions. 

 

 

 

 

 

Taehyung uncharacteristically turns reticent and muted, other than a tense grin and the munching from the food he began consuming before it was gone in a flash. Whether it had been an hour or a few minutes of their meal, the uncomfortable unease in the atmosphere was too much to bear. 

 

 

 

       Frantically wiping the crumbs stuck in the corner of his mouth following his meal, he abruptly rises from his seat that loudly scratches the marble floor, and bows with a military sternness to him. 

 

 

 

“Dowager Lady Bae had gone out of her way to show me such hospitality and kindness that I am cannot reciprocate and I hope my gratitude can be felt. If My Lady allows, I announce my leave to assist in preparations for the ceremony of matrimony of the Grand Princess to Lord Min Yoongi.” 

 

 

 

 

It stung her at how distant and formal he had suddenly become, just after a wall of ice had been melted away and a comforting sense of trust and understanding had been formed between them - this is how it should’ve been. 

 

 

 

 

 

She should have never opened up her gates to let him in, never let him in during her late husband’s funeral - never let him come so close to her heart and feelings, when she knew it was flourishing to nothing. 

 

 

 

      My child, my child - what do you know that I am not aware of? A child can see through the pretension and falsities of life and its illusions, and sense one’s pure soul and being - perhaps her unborn baby can perceive the purity and goodness of Taehyung’s heart and soul. 

 

 

 

 

She could see that too. 

 

 

 

“Of course, Lord Kim. You may. Godspeed, and kindly send my wishes to Her Royal Highness and Lord Min.”  

 

 

“As you wish, My Lady.” 

 

 

…

 

 

“Those was your mother’s favourite pair of earrings, Yerim-ie.” 

 

 

 

The young blonde turns away from her own reflection of her ornate, golden mirror, gasping as she lifts off her seat to dash into her father’s warm embrace. 

 

 

 

 

“I remember how much she loved pearls, father. Even her official portrait by the living room has her covered in it.” Heechul devotedly pecks his daughter’s forehead, before fondly listening to her with a nostalgic smile. 

 

 

 

 

“You really look and start sounding more like her as time passes don’t you? You react the same way she did when she felt anxious and worried.” 

 

 

 

 

Yerim thinly smiles at her father, glancing at him in melancholy and sorrow over the distant memory of her late mother, before resting her head on her father’s chest, as she tightens her arms around him. 

 

 

 

 

“Mother would not like us to worry about her when such a joyous occasion is being celebrated across the Seven Kingdoms, right Father?” She teases him, before he chuckles and pinches her nose lightly. 

 

 

 

“My, how could I forget? In my youth, I felt no greater thrill in my days other than festivities and drinking loudly with my brothers and companions, and so must you, my dear. Are you all dressed and ready to go?” 

 

 

 

 

She walks over towards her mirror, and stands a few metres away as she attentively analyzed and criticizes every detail of her appearance for the rest of the night. 

 

 

 

 

       Her azure hued gown was intricately sewn and interwoven with golden lace and embroidery, alternated with transparent georgette and translucent taffeta that hung just below her elbows. 

 

 

 

 

The boat neckline bled sangria as the single drop pearl earring hung as the masterpiece of her demeanor for the night, as she clutched on it for assurance and comfort of her mother’s memory. 

 

 

 

 

Golden blonde tresses were coiled securely into braided ringlets on the pale nape of her neck, elaborately dressed with aurelian ribbons that glimmered as the morning sun from her window shone into her room. 

 

 

 

 

 

     The widow’s peak of her forehead was hidden by tufts of outgrown hair that had recently grown from her roots, and the crown of her head held the pearl circlet with white lace falling down to her hips. 

 

 

“My dearest ladies in waiting have done all they can to dress me well for the wedding, dear father. But, as much as I understand your excitement for this event - it is barely the tenth hour of the day, and we are to leave soon?” 

 

 

 

 

He clears his throat as he settles outside of his daughter’s bedroom, waiting by the painting decorated hallways of the manor with a tense dismay settling through him. 

 

 

 

    As she exits her chambers and shuts the door carefully, Yerim skips over joyfully before her slender fingers tug onto the crook of his elbow, and follows his lead down the staircase and towards the carriage that has been waiting for them. 

 

 

 

 

“The ceremonies do not start until seven in the evening, but there is a great degree of preparation and travelling needed for the entire royal and aristocratic circle to gather in the Red Keep. Besides, wouldn’t you want to spend more time with the Grand Princess? I am sure she would appreciate your company.” 

 

 

 

Her father was a terrible liar. Just like she was. 

 

 

 

“Father-” She warned suspiciously, squinting at him skeptically as they slowly made their way down the final steps of the convoluted stairwell. 

 

 

 

Heechul exhales in defeat, and even slightly eased in mind over a secret he felt he had kept for too long and freed from his burden of keeping it. 

 

 

 

 

“The Crown Prince requests for your presence immediately, dearling. He seeks to invite you for tea and light breakfast, as soon as possible, and I advise you that it is best to not upset or deprive him on a day like this.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Crown Prince Chanyeol? She asked herself again and again in complete shock and horror over the conditions and implications of their meeting - especially now that he was formally betrothed to Lady Kang Seulgi of her own faction. 

 

 

 

 

If the wrong ears and unfortunate mouths have heard and shared of this private meeting - her reputation would be shattered forever. 

 

 

 

Or worse- 

 

 

 

“Father, will he criminally prosecute me? Accuse me of a crime I never knew I committed.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Heechul couldn’t help but burst into laughter, slapping his palm against his abdomen, and then his faint beard in amusement. 

 

 

 

 

 

“If you knew anything about Crown Prince Chanyeol, you would know he is the last person you would want to deal with circustances of that degree.” 

 

 

 

 

He assists her with a firm, secure palm into the interior of the silver carriage, with its sumptuous upholstered surroundings with beaded, embroidered caricatures with flowers that grew native in the local vicinity for centuries before. 

 

 

 

“I wouldn’t think he would be one for tea either, father. We all know he would be drinking enough for tonight on his sister’s special day.” She chirps, before they ride their way towards the palace. 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

“Your Royal Highness, Lady Kim Yerim has arrived.” 

 

 

Chanyeol feels the weight on the soles of his feet double as his leather boots hit the ground, as his legs uncross from the plush velvet couch. He clears his throat as he smoothes the wrinkles and edges of his military uniform, tugging and rearranging his medals and laurels with utmost care. 

 

 

 

“Let her in.”

 

 

 

 

The towering wooden door clicks open as the iron barred handles are unlocked, and swings inwards to present Lady Yerim standing gracefully and sternly before flawlessly genuflecting in respect. 

 

 

 

 

“Your Royal Highness, your invitation is most generous and altruistic to choose to be in my presence, and I remain most grateful to the Prince.” 

 

 

 

“There is no need to mention it nor thank for, as it was I who had asked to take a moment out of your time to spend with me. If you may allow, please let me lead you for some light supper.’ He offers his robust, sinemy silk clothed arm for her to hold on. 

 

 

 

 

Heat begins to build around her cheeks as the intimidating presence of the handsome, charming prince stuns her to hesitation, before she flashes a shy grin as she circles her slender fingers around his muscular forearm and accompanies his direction. 

 

 

 

 

       Not many can claim to have gotten a glimpse nor a  glance of what the Crown Prince’s bedroom truly resembled other than tales and songs of beautiful, busty women who have breezed through or the drunkard entourage of his who had knocked out until dawn, but no one can claim to have viewed his room in circumstances like this. 

 

 

 

The brown painted room was rich in detail and intricacy, yet also left a deep impression of minimalism and simplicity that outlined the juxtaposition that was the Crown Prince Chanyeol. 

 

 

 

Figurines of wooden soldiers with warped metal helmets and armours swinging lengthy swords in the battlefield, theories and philosophies of political science, history, geography, war, strategy, and classical literature was sprawled across his oak bureau. 

 

 

 

 

His four poster king sized bed was supported by steel rods and lengthy, heavy-weight jacquard curtains that shone in hues of currant and crimson. 

 

 

 

What caught Yerim’s eye the most, however, was the majestic official portrait of Chanyeol in his finest armour and military uniform, magnanimously in midnight black that was richly decorated on his numerous achievements and accomplishments from an early age. 

 

 

 

 

His medium caramel coloured hair slicked back and bared his porcelain clear skin and forehead, as his thick harrowing brows were furrowed in determination and cunning. 

 

 

 

 

“You’re wasting looking at that portrait? Goodness, I look horrible - the only reason I look presentable is due to the careful hand and watch of your father.” 

 

 

 

 

“I didn’t know my father even painted anything, Your Royal Highness.” 

 

 

 

 

“You have to see more of his work - the magnitude and quality of his creations are beyond this world. Who knows - perhaps you have the same talent.” 

 

 

 

 

She bows her head chastely, eyes avoiding his wide, enthusiastic own as her fingers wrap around the fine china teacup and sipping quietly on the hot chamomile tea in front of her. 

 

 

 

 

 

     Chanyeol scrutinizes and observes the young girl in front of him in such detail and attention, as if he fears he would simply forget the most minuscule aspect of her and her entire memory of her would be washed away. 

 

 

 

 

 

From how her golden locks were bunched up behind her head and showing enough of her gorgeous, unblemished skin against the light of the sun. From the shape of her trimmed eyebrows, her thick, fair eyelashes, the emerald gemstones that existed in her irises, the curve of her nose, to the thickness and redness of her lips - he couldn’t stop looking back over and over again. 

 

 

 

 

 

      So many years had passed since they had met and encountered one another, so intimately and closely like this, that he had the chance to obscure and investigate every detail of her without a crowd flocking and tearing them apart. 

 

 

 

 

He turned his face against her as he attempted to hide the abashed glow on his cheeks, fearing the exposure of his vulnerability and his reputation. More importantly, the reveal of his true feelings. 

 

 

 

 

 

“Your Royal Highness has been possibly just as educated and well-informed in the area of art, and surpasses even my understanding. Embroidery and the means of art are not my strengths, but more to my weaknesses.” She retorts honestly, before reaching forward to place a creamed custard on her casserole. 

 

 

 

 

 

He hated how she made it seem so easy and effortless on the effect she had on him - how she tangled and pulled his heartstrings into loopholes and knots that he couldn’t detach and pull apart. Unless he yanked them and rid of them completely. 

 

 

 

 

 

“You are surely more proficient than you see yourself, Lady Yerim. I have much to learn, and explore, yet if it is in your interest, then perhaps I can arrange for my sister’s own septas and tutors who teach her solely in the absence of her handmaidens-” 

 

 

 

 

 

She squirms in embarrassment, dropping her baked scone into the custard.  “You are too kind and selfless, Your Royal Highness-” 

 

 

 

 

 

Impatiently, he abruptly stands and clutches a tight grip around her delicate wrist, hoping that she would finally stop ignoring him and going around in circles. So that she could finally see him as simply Chanyeol, not the Crown Prince, not the Future King - but himself. As Chanyeol. 

 

 

 

 

“I know that you are acting cautiously and warily around me as I am now an engaged man who is soon to marry, but I have to get this out of my chest and let you know what I truly want to say before my final breath. I love you, with my entire being, with my heart and soul, and it would make me greatly unhappy for me to walk to the altar by leaving you with the assumption of hatred and insult - when I wholeheartedly respect and view you with such admiration and adoration.” 

 

 

 

 

 

      Yerim stared at him in incredulity, as her breath turned heavy and her heart beat surreptitiously and impatiently as he made her blood boil and come to life. It was as if a surge of adrenaline and energy had breezed through her without prior warning. 

 

 

 

 

“Y-Your Royal Highness-” 

 

 

 

“Pl-Please let me finish my words- I shall become a husband to another while you shall become a wife to another, yet it would break my heart if you never knew how much you meant to me and how highly I see you. I- I hope you can see and feel that from me, Yerim. “ 

 

 

 

 

An atmosphere of uncertain apprehension and a heavy suspense filled the room as they beamed deeply, sincerely and heartily into each other’s eyes - full of emotion and longing, yet no words came from their mouths. 

 

 

 

 

“I want to thank you, Your Royal Highness - for your bravery and courage in speaking the truth. I appreciate it greatly, and wish you well.” 

 

 

 

       A faint peck on his cheek was felt as she raised her tiptoes to gently brush her lips against the curve of his jowl. It felt like a promise, well wishes and a goodbye all at once - and he closed his eyes to linger and feel it for one last time.

 

 

 

One last time before they part ways and play the roles in life they had to fill. 

 

 

 

“Thank you, thank you, Lady Yerim. I pray you good tidings for your future and happiness.” 

 

 

 

The echo of the door shut could not hide the presence of the pearl drop earring forgotten on his table. 

 

 

 

He takes it into his palms, rippling the silver until the sole pearl rests among them, and presses a placid kiss against the stone. In her memory. 

 

 

 

It’s all he has of her - the only memory of his that wasn’t fleeting, dissolving, fading away, disappearing - it’s all he has left. 

 

 

 

...

 

 

“Jennie, I’d like to introduce you to my brother’s wives and their children.” 

 

 

 

Kim Jongin amicably presents his future wife proudly on his arm around his castle, greeting whomever he comes across with a friendly smile, whether they be a servant nor a knightly lord serving beneath him. 

 

 

 

It has nearly been a month since Jennie had accepted her cousin’s proposal for marriage, as he declared his sentiment and good will in hopes of playing a bigger role in the fulfillment of her happiness and satisfaction in life - even without a crown on his head. 

 

 

 

 

     She feared that this marriage did not benefit nor advance the situation of her status, yet rather kept her stagnant without the same social ranking and lineage by marrying her own cousin, whose father was the brother of her own, but kept the bloodline pure. 

 

 

 

 

As her brothers and other kin abstain from marriage entirely or strategically ally with other, foreign powerful families, the immaculacy and virtue of their Velaryon heritage and their offspring grows far few. 

 

 

 

 

 

The game of power and strategy across all boards was one you did not forget to play, but at least one pair shall intermarry and continue the unadulterated superiority of a pure Velaryon. It meant they expected her to birth at least five to six children - if she could have more, even better. 

 

 

 

 

Her own father was cousins with her mother, whose mothers were sisters themselves and married their own brothers, and kept the bloodline strong and secure. 

 

 

 

 

 

It would continue through her offspring with Jongin, the youngest of the three sons of the branch of Kim brothers- Minseok, Jongdae and Jongin. 

 

 

 

 

       As the middle child, Jongdae was given much freedom in the course of his life: on the details of his education, his travels, his pursuits, his ambitions, and most importantly - his future wife. 

 

 

 

 

 

In fact, he had been riding his stallion in the depths of the Mountainlands, yet the impulsiveness of his thrill seeking persona and miscalculations caused him to isolate himself into a hidden crevice of the mountain and lose contact from the world while tending for a broken leg. 

 

 

 

 

       His voice had gone croak and strangled in his desperate pleas for help and assistance for what seemed like hours of begging, and sobbing in misery and acceptance of doom. 

 

 

 

 

 

He closed his eyes, murmured a brief prayer and wrapped his arms around himself, recognizing the inevitability of his fate, until a maiden with flames in her hair and her bright eyes flooded with the oceans herself - he had felt salvation and had been saved. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       Lady Lalisa was the only child and daughter of the elderly Lord of the Mountainlands, who ruled over his confined, remote kingdom with chivalry and fealty to provide the best for his people and treated justly - by staying true to their ideals of pacifism and making no deals with war and violence in the outside world. 

 

 

 

 

To them, association with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms would only invite chaos and instability to your doorsteps.  

 

 

 

        True to the saying and more so her mother’s daughter than her father’s, she stubbornly takes him with her to the palace to be healed, and declaring in front of her people and her council that she shall only marry Kim Jongdae with all her heart. 

 

 

 

 

With a pointed dagger by her neck, she warned that resistance from otherwise, shall result in the price of her own life. Hence, no outright intransigence was heard and blessings were given immediately for the marriage to go through. 

 

 

 

 

Two sons later with a third on the way, Lady Lalisa still carried herself with the wildness and the tenacity of a mountain woman, bursting with enthusiasm and optimism in a positive outlook in her life. 

 

 

 

 

 

She enjoyed riding horses and exploring in the wilderness as much as she had found bliss in the company of her loving husband, whose gaunt walk with his limp and his wooden cane stood not as a limitation to him, but rather an engrossing trait, and looked forward to carrying and bearing her own children with her life. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Lady Kim Jennie, I cannot believe that we have finally met! Jongin has told me so much about you, and I have heard only the highest of praises.”   Lalisa leaps towards Jennie with an intimate embrace, which Jennie hesitantly returns before relishing in the warmth of her cousin-in-law. 

 

 

 

 

“You and Jongdae-oppa had married while I was still studying overseas, but alas, we have finally met! I can see that he has found someone who makes him as happy as riding would have, yet I hope he makes you just as happy.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Lalisa fondly chuckles as she tightens her grasp around Jennie’s pale fingers, while caressing her swollen belly with her other palm and looks down at her unborn child with maternal predilection.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She was only about a year or two older than she was, yet even her early marriage and several child births and pregnancies have not drained the life nor youth out of her yet.  It seemed like the longer she was married and the more children she had - the younger she looked.  

 

 

 

 

“He has brought me so much joy and stability in my life, Jennie. He has been so kind, so understanding, so generous and so selfless to me that I cannot be luckier in my life. More importantly so, he has been so empathetic and accommodating to the children-” 

 

 

 

 

Childish, innocent laughter and chattering passed by them in the manicured rose gardens as Jongdae and Lalisa’s two sons, named Minseok and Jongin respectively after their uncles, ran past through them boisterously and excitedly through the labyrinth maze of the palace.

 

 

The more she looked at them, the more their Velaryon blood stood strong in their features and appearances, while their natures and temperament resembled their mother's. 

 

 

 

 

      Jongdae compassionately watches over his sons playing with gentle pride over the wellbeing of his children, and their enjoyment of life and freedom of youth- one he would greatly miss. 

 

 

 

 

 

“One day, the sight of children running and playing around will become common to you, Jongin-ah and Jennie.” Jongdae commented solemnly, walking over towards them slowly as he was guided by his cane before a teasing scowl appeared on his face. 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hyung!” Jongin agitatedly punches his brother in the shoulder, hiding in reticence while his older brother howls in catching his brother off guard. 

 

 

 

 

 

It suddenly comes to Jennie’s realization that Jongdae’s words were coming up sooner than expected, as children would be greatly expected shortly after their marriage to fulfill their duty of continuing the bloodline.

 

 

 

 

       Shortly after the Crown Prince’s rejection, she reflected on the childishness and ignorance of her character, and it daunted her that perhaps the Queendom was not meant for her - and that was okay. 

 

 

 

 

 

Even her father was tired of persisting and pushing for this power play that would never happen, and placed his bets on his pieces to power who were much closer to the throne than she ever would be. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The quiet, simple life in the immaculate, opulent palaces owned by their dynasty would still be hers to keep and reside, as she marries her cousin Jongin and resumes their supreme bloodline, and everything would be comfortable, so familiar and feel like home. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         Years of education in the Eastern cities had exposed her to ideas and people of far and wide, encountered kings, lords, slave owners, traders and warriors of all backgrounds, that fed into her greed and desire for more. To become more. To own more. 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps, she can settle for a life like this. For a peaceful, stable and serene life, free from the toxicity and dangers of King’s Landing politics. Perhaps, she can prioritize being happy. 

 

 

 

 

      Happy? Maybe, she can finally be happy in love. For once. Not as a pawn, nor a player, not for social climbing or improving her means, but for sincerity and honesty. For love. True love. 

 

 

 

 

“Is everything alright, Jennie?” Her fiance asks concerningly, comforting circles onto the small of her back as he cradles her lithe body into his muscular, broad form. 

 

 

 

 

   
From the corner of her eye, she watches the eldest of the brothers, Kim Minseok, walk formally and ceremoniously down the staircase with his wife, Lady Mina with such precise calculation and care that she had to remind herself that they were even married. 

 

 

 

 

 

Unlike his younger brothers, his marriage was on of convenience, for strategic purposes and maintenance of stability and peace in their lands, and for securing alliances intended for extreme scenarios of war and unrest. As expected of the first born and heir. 

 

 

 

 

 

     Mina’s marriage to Minseok ensured the loyalty of the Ironlands, whose navy and ships oversaw the shipments from the islands, and protected the kingdoms from the frequent thunderstorms by the doomed triangle below the most southern tip of their islands.  

 

 

 

 

Mina was heavily pregnant, who seemed heavily in distress and discomfort, from the swelling and agonizing heat she felt through her body as she was less than two moons away from the delivery of her child, but even as she was the same age as Jennie - it seemed like her life had been drained away and her soul no longer resided in her body. 

 

 

 

 

 

       Minseok was understanding, shy, quiet, intelligent, and preferred the books and the pen over the horses and blades of his younger brothers, and it was his wisdom was what enabled the common folk to prosper in his care. 

 

 

 

 

 

The reason the crops were tended so well was due to his discovery of sustainable, environmentally friendly farming practices to the reconstruction of the financial system and trades of his kingdom with the rest of the dominion - it was all due to him. 

 

 

 

 

 

Yet a marriage of love and of choice? Without the complicating conditions of allegiances, trade, dowries, and financial promises - that life could have easily been hers if she continued. Yet she didn’t. 

 

 

 

 

“Yes, my love. All is well.” 

 

 

...

 

A/N: Hey guys! I really, really missed you guys and was so proud of myself for basically finishing 2/3 of this chapter in a few hours, but a lot of my tests/assessments happened today so there isn't too much due for tomorrow/rest of the week (presentation/book to read- y'all can wait lol)

 

I know this isn't probably the most exciting/ scandalous chapter in the series, but it is critical for character building/ development and to listen/ see what they're all really feeling, admist all this action that has been occuring. 

 

Please continue supporting this fic by commenting, subscribing, sharing this with your friends and giving me as much feedback as you can- I'd really, really apreciate it! 

 

I love hearing what you guys have to say in this - it's our story, of course. 

 

Till next time! 

 

xoxo

 

Song: "Wicked Game" by Coves (Chris Isaak Cover)