(AN: We're super close to the end guys! As always, let me know if you liked it in the comments, and you can always find my on twitter at honeyedsunshine if you want to yell at me some more!)

While the servants scramble to clean the mess in his room, Kyungsoo bathes. In Insoo’s room, with Jaehwan and one of the king’s guards, because apparently the king thinks he’s a flight risk now. But Tiger Mountain prepared him for this, and he’s had enough of bathing in front of a crowd that it doesn’t bother him much. But mostly it doesn’t bother him because nothing can bother him. He’s on a high, the exhilaration in his veins electrifying because Jongin is free.

    And he has the realization that in his own way, he’s also free. Free to be the most insufferable y prince, because the king can only threaten him with his own life now, which Kyungsoo almost doesn’t even care about because Jongin is free. And if Insoo has his way, Kyungsoo won’t have to worry about his father being the king for much longer.

    Once he’s dressed and his wound is treated, he readies himself for his lessons, but a maid with a haughty pout informs him that princess Hyesoo is waiting for him. Hm, interesting. Kyungsoo follows the maid to Hyesoo’s quarters. He wonders if she’s in on Insoo’s plan, but that doesn’t seem likely now that she’s pregnant. She wouldn’t put herself in harm’s way. Besides, it was the king who insisted she and her husband, a high ranking yangban with a pert nose and gravelly voice, stayed at the palace because he could not bear to have her move away. She is essentially the queen, and has been so since their mother’s death two years ago, so the king had her stay. She would lose too much if Insoo became king, considering Insoo’s wife already has a son.

    Alas, it is for a much less savory reason that Hyesoo has summoned him. She waits, seated on a cushion and looking regal with a gache that makes her neck look frail. Her cheeks are fuller, eyes twinkling with a warmth Kyungsoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen, or at least not so intensely.

    “Father tells me you wish to marry,” she says.

    Oh.

    Kyungsoo chokes on his own spit, then dissolves into giggles; Hyesoo narrows her eyes at him until he stops laughing, still red-faced and biting back a smile.

    “Sorry,” he says between stray giggles, “but I don’t wish to do anything. The king is forcing me to marry and I have no choice but to obey him if I wish to keep my own head.”

    His sister sighs, jaw tight. “I see.”

    There’s a beat of awkward silence in which Kyungsoo sobers up, folding his hands on his lap. “Sorry.”

    “I was hoping you’d finally decided to grow up,” Hyesoo says, an edge in her voice, “but I see Father felt the need to force your hand. Well, no matter. There are plenty of yangban women who want to marry into the royal family.”

    Kyungsoo bites back the urge to grit out a taunt about her false sense of power, but he decides against it. He might be endangering Insoo if he does.

    He settles for asking, “Why did you call me over?”

    “Normally, it is the Queen who oversees such arrangements,” Hyesoo says, giving him a hard look as if to say he should know this. Oh, he knows. He just wants to hear her say that she’s taking Mother’s place. “As there is no queen and I am the eldest princess, I will be overseeing your marriage, with the King’s approval.”

    There. Hyesoo admits she’s the king’s puppet. Kyungsoo fights the urge to paint on a smug grin; he’d once thought he’d wanted his father’s approval, but since he’d gone to Tiger Mountain School, and since the king had threatened him months ago, and since Insoo had spoken to him, Kyungsoo realized the last thing he wanted was to be seen as a good son. And here is Hyesoo, neck deep in her desire to please the king.

    “Mm,” Kyungsoo hums, feigning polite interest.

    She sees right through it, any pretense at niceties falling from her face. “There are three possible options, all from families who are unshakably faithful to Father. Pak Dabin, Min Miyeon, and Seok Sijung are all of marriageable age. I’ve arranged for you to meet them later this week, and I expect you to behave when you do so.”

    Kyungsoo gives her a saccharine smile. “I’ll be on my best behavior, sister.”

    Hyesoo shoots him a skeptical look, but, in her most queenly behavior, she smiles back. “Good. Please don’t destroy the things in your room again, in the meantime. Some of those items are quite rare.”

    Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and stands up. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

    Hyesoo’s face morphs, temple pulsing as she looks up at him, but before she can berate him he skips out of her room and into the cool autumn afternoon.

—

He drags his feet. The servants had a palanquin ready, but Kyungsoo really doesn’t want to meet the potential brides so he prolongs his walk, a mincing pace that he’s pretty sure is pissing off even the servants, but he doesn’t care. He scuffs his shoes along the path, punctuating the silence with heavy sighs until he finally arrives. The same haughty maid who summoned him a week ago is waiting at the entrance, her teeth before she bows and removes his shoes. Kyungsoo tries not to look so pleased; if the maid is this annoyed, that means Hyesoo is worse. Good. His plan to be an unbearable for the rest of his life is working.

    Two steps into Hyesoo’s quarters reveal a very pissed off princess and three girls about Kyungsoo’s age. One of them is very plain, her eyes filled with terror. One of them is a little bit ugly, ogling at the third girl, who is actually remarkably pretty, but her beauty does nothing for Kyungsoo. He smiles at Hyesoo, who is giving him a murderous look, and settles on the cushion meant for him.

    “I apologize for my lateness,” he says, straightening a crease on his pants, “but I really didn’t want to come.”

    Hyesoo lets out a choked gasp, which transforms into a strained laugh. She places a hand on his thigh, nails digging into his flesh, which he knows to be a warning.

    “He means that he was overwhelmed at the thought of having to choose between such beautiful young women as yourselves,” Hyesoo says. “You see, the King, in all his greatness, has afforded Kyungsoo the choice to pick who he wants to marry, a privilege not granted to the rest of his children.”

    Her voice is hard now, her smile forced. Kyungsoo stares down at the sweet cakes on the table; he doesn’t want to meet her eye. He doesn’t want to be here. And it’s not fair that Hyesoo brings up choice in marriage when the king was ready to kill his lover. Kyungsoo doesn’t have any more choice than Hyesoo did.

    “An honor,” Kyungsoo murmurs, bunching silk in his sweaty hands. Now the room feels overly warm, and the cloying mix of four different types of perfume with incense and sujeonggwa makes his head spin. His own simmering rage already makes it difficult to breathe and his heart starts to race. Air, he needs air, but Hyesoo’s room is shut tight against the autumn wind, which has enough of a bite to be uncomfortable but he needs air.

    Hyesoo continues talking, but Kyungsoo doesn’t hear a word she says. He’s in a haze, half ecstasy because Jongin is alive and free and away from the dangers of the palace, half distress because his home is now a cage of hanji and wood and fine silk. All these sweet luxuries are going to rot him from the inside out because now he’s alone; he won’t risk another romance with a man, not ever, not knowing what the king will do. He places all his hope on Insoo, but that doesn’t mean his brother will succeed, and if he doesn’t… Kyungsoo doesn’t want to imagine what Joseon will look like after an unsuccessful regicide. He doesn’t want to know what would happen to him, because he knows that even if he stays a neutral, ignorant party, the king will be thirsting for blood, and Kyungsoo’s transgressions are enough to mark him a traitor and outsider.

    “Your majesty,” Hyesoo grits through her teeth, hand on his thigh again.

    “Hm?”

    “I was telling them that you are particularly fond of painting landscapes,” she says with a tight smile.

    “Ah, yes,” Kyungsoo swallows hard. “Sorry, I’m not feeling well. I’m rather dizzy.”

    Hyesoo’s eyes twitches. She doesn’t believe him. Well, he doesn’t care. If he barfs on the rice cakes it’ll be her fault, especially because his stomach is gurgling, chest tight as he struggles to breathe evenly. He’s a jittery knot of anxiety, too queasy to properly make a show which because he really wanted to.

    But he does have the energy to put on a sugary smile and say, “Landscapes, yes. Fascinating. “

    Two of the girls gasp. Hyesoo stands, a serene smile on her painted lips.

    “Let’s get you some fresh air, brother,” she says.

    Finally. Kyungsoo rocks to his feet and follows her out, taking a deep breath as soon as the cool autumn air hits him. It’s enough to immediately soothe his nerves.

    “This is not your best ing behavior,” Hyesoo spits.

    She yanks Kyungsoo’s arm hard, which makes him stumble into a pillar.

    “I told you I’m not feeling well,” he hisses; he stays pressed against the pillar, letting his weight sag against the red and green wood.

    “Drop the act, Kyungsoo,” Hyesoo snarls. “The least you can do is be grateful Father is giving you a chance to redeem yourself.”

    Kyungsoo scoffs. “Redeem myself? Is that what this is? Is me doing the ing instead of being ed supposed to redeem me? It’s still not going to change the fact that I like , that I’m a spoiled of a prince, or that the king—”

    He stops, pushing himself off the pillar with a growl. There are some things he should not say, even as a prince, especially when he’s already on thin ice.

    “Or that the King what?” Hyesoo asks coldly.

    “Just ing pick one,” Kyungsoo spits.

    He turns on his heel and leaves, ignoring Hyesoo’s sharp hiss.

—

    In the end, Hyesoo picks Pak Dabin, the pretty girl. They meet twice after that initial, excruciating encounter, and both times Hyesoo is the one to keep the conversation going. Well, it’s a conversation between Dabin and Hyesoo, with a few grunts and hums and one-word answers from Kyungsoo. He may have no choice in this marriage, but he will be insufferable. He almost feels bad for Dabin, but it passes quickly. If he’s lucky, she’ll find solace in some other man and leave him alone. Hells, he’ll even throw the man a few promotions if he’s good enough at keeping Dabin satisfied; what man wouldn’t want to the prince’s wife and rise through the ranks of palace aristocracy while he’s at it?

    Today, however, Hyesoo summons him to Hyangwonjeong where he finds Dabin sitting between lotus lanterns, resplendent in violet silk with a gache twined with small flowers. And no one else. He knows exactly what they’re trying to do, and he won’t fall for it, so he turns on his heel and walks right back over the bridge. He hears Dabin squeak, then the patter of footsteps catching up to him.

    “Your majesty!” she says breathlessly. “Where are you goin