[title song: blue - taeyeon]
 

T W O

In most of the stories Seulgi smuggles in for her from beyond her father’s compound walls, the Prince and Princess exchange a single look and they fall in love. Him with her ethereal beauty and her with his handsome regality. He is kind and well-read and when they lock eyes, the whole world falls away and all that is left is them. It’s always so happy. She knows not to expect something like that—because those are just stories and she is not childish enough to believe them true—but she, at least, expects a pleasant Crown Prince to greet her.

She does not expect to be faced by cold eyes and an even colder frown. She can feel all the court servants’ eyes on her—on them—judging, watchful, perhaps ready to report back whatever they see to whoever owns their eyes.

The palace itself is beautiful, the cherry blossom tree is in full bloom. That’s where Eunuch Kim brings her, his steps hesitant and his eyes shifty. The Crown Prince’s personal guard meets her gaze first, since the Crown Prince’s back is facing her, the personal guard’s back resting against the trunk of the cherry blossom tree, arms crossed over his chest. At first, when he sees her, he gives her a cursory glance, before he seemed to register who she was. And then, he had straightened up instantly, back rigid, arms dropping to his side, and the curly smile he had been directing at the Crown Prince dropping immediately.

Hyemi watches, head bowed slightly in mandatory respect, as the Crown Prince Byun Baekhyun turns to face her.

She looks up, to meet his gaze, despite what is customary, and she notices Eunuch Kim grimace at her actions behind his sleeve, from the corner of her eye.

She does not expect to see him gritting his teeth as he looks at her, his cold eyes filled with irritation, perhaps even hatred. She’s never had anyone truly look at her that way. She’s grown up around servants and a mother who never looked at her with anything but respect and, in her mother’s case, love. Here, it is instantly different.

Crown Prince Baekhyun’s personal guard regards her with none of the warmth she had caught momentarily before he noticed her presence. His Eunuch glances at her in concern, as if he’s already worried about how the Crown Prince will react to her, before she even greets him. His maids look nervous. No one seems to expect anything good out of this interaction, or her.

Still, she meets his cold gaze, ignoring the slight tremble in her hands (she’s glad she has her hands tucked beneath her robes, invisible to the court’s judging scrutiny, to Baekhyun’s obvious scrutiny of her) and attempts her most diplomatic, easygoing smile.

“It is nice to finally meet you, your highness.”

She bows.

As she straightens up, the Crown Prince looks her up and down, eyes harsh and tone downright mean as he says, “Let’s get this over with.”

She blinks as he spins, hands behind his back, and strides away, towards his palace.

She’s stunned by his tone, his entire demeanor, and she turns to look at Eunuch Kim, since his personal guard had followed him instantly. Eunuch Kim bows his head and murmurs apologies before he gestures hurriedly towards the Crown Prince.

She’s supposed to follow him.

Anger settles in her stomach because, frankly, he is being rude.

Still, she takes a deep breath, plasters a smile across her face, and follows him, refusing to run.

She entirely expects his next remark, “Next time, do not make me wait.”

Her eye twitches as she sits down across from him, in his guest room. “Yes, your highness.”

She injects as much passive aggressive sarcasm into her tone as possible. Baekhyun’s eyes narrow, ever-so-slightly.

There’s a beat of awkward silence and Hyemi collects herself, racking her brain for a conversation starter.

Just as she opens to speak, Crown Prince Baekhyun speaks over her, tone sharp, “We are to marry as soon as the astrologers set a date, sometime within a month from now.”

It’s not much of a question. It’s a statement. She can barely hide her surprise at the given time frame. Her father never mentioned how close the date could be. A month is truly nothing and she finds that same feeling of frustration scratching at the pit of her stomach. It would have been nice to know about this earlier.

She observes the Crown Prince carefully. He is small, almost dainty looking, but there is a ferocity in the way he expresses himself. Somehow, his glare adds to his aura, making it overwhelming, regal. She thinks he looks exactly as a future King should look. Handsome and regal, so beautiful that it seems almost otherworldly. He is intimidating, too, admittedly, but she refuses to let him know that she finds him intimidating. He is rude, and she will not put up with it, if she can help it. She will not allow him to treat her as anything less than how a woman of her status deserves to be treated.

He leans in slowly over the small table, hovering too close, just a hairsbreadth away, and her gaze flickers to the paper screen doors, where the shadows of their court linger. She freezes as Baekhyun lifts a pretty hand and brushes a thumb along her jaw, right along her chin. She blinks, surprised more than anything, though her heart races in her chest at the cold touch and the way his gaze settles on her face.

His touch is feather light as it flutters to the very tip of her chin, his thumb and pointed finger grasping her chin lightly as he tilts her head up so she can fully meet his gaze. She is frozen to her spot, confused, heart racing, rooted.

He says, “It is my duty to marry you, but that means nothing to me. I will not love you.”

His voice is barely audible, but the aloof edge to it is piercing and pointed, like a sword. Her words are stuck in and she can’t seem to figure out what to respond with.

“You’re the Vice Premier’s daughter, are you not?” Baekhyun laughs a little, but there is nothing humorous about it. He doesn’t wait for her to formulate any response, fingers on her chin tightening slightly, surprising her. There is anger in his eyes at the mention of her father, anger that has her stomach flipping because it is so intense. “I do not think I will even be able to like you.”

And then he drops his hand and leans back. She feels very, very small under his gaze, which is now heavier than ever. She can’t maintain his gaze, her eyes dropping to the table, and the frustration deep inside her twists and morphs into a sort of anxiety she has no idea what to do with. Suddenly, she wants to be very, very far away from Crown Prince Baekhyun and this palace filled with eyes.

Still, despite the way her fingers tremble as she fists her skirt, hidden beneath her robes so he cannot see her moment of weakness, she manages to plaster that same easygoing, diplomatic smile across her face as she bites out, as politely as she can manage. “Duly noted, your highness.”

Crown Prince Baekhyun’s eyes narrow significantly at her response, his smug smile faltering a bit.

Hyemi adds, head bowed, “Should I take my leave?”

Baekhyun scowls, “Yes. Go.”

She barely controls the urge to stomp her feet as she walks out of his guest room as slowly and indignantly as possible, just to spite him more.

Her annoyance and anger trickles into fully-blown anxiety as soon as she is safely inside her palanquin and hidden from view. He hates her. Crown Prince Baekhyun hates her and she truly doubts she will be able to change his mind. Her hands tremble in her lap and she isn’t quite sure why they are shaking so bad.

~.~.~.~.~

Her chest heaves as she gasps for air, her arms feeling like jelly.

Still, she rushes forward, keeping her stance steady, before she whacks at the straw dummies before her with all the strength and energy she can muster, over and over and over until she’s not really aiming for precise vital points anymore. She’s just hacking away at the thing, the resounding thud both satisfying and rewarding. She keeps going, over and over and over again, until suddenly there’s a loud cough from behind her and she spins on her heels, wooden sword raised over her head, ready to smack the intruder.

She feels so jittery, like there are ants crawling over her skin, even as she freezes at the sight of both Kai and Xiumin standing right behind her.

Neither of them seem particularly worried by her threatening stance. In fact, they both eye her funnily, as if the sight of her is merely amusing. She must look a mess. Sweat trickles down her back, her breathing heavy, and she finds that she hates the patronizing way they blink at her, despite how pathetic she knows she must look. She has half a mind to truly swing down her sword and smack the amusement off their faces.

She doesn’t, though. She just drops her arms, letting the wooden sword go limp at her side as she tries to catch her breath.

“Was meeting the Crown Prince that bad?” Kai asks, almost curious.

Xiumin snorts a little at Kai’s comment. Hyemi rolls her eyes, allowing her own irritation to filter through into her expression for once. “What do you want?”

Xiumin, surprisingly, answers her, “We could hear you murdering the poor training post from the gates.”

“Just pretend I am the ghost like everyone else does.” Hyemi mumbles, rolling her eyes.

At this point, she’s beginning to think that her father is aware of her activities. He makes small comments about allowing her to do what she wishes constantly. Seulgi, also, tells her that the rumors are more rampant than ever, and her father overheard one of the maids talking about it earlier. Maybe, her father wishes to use this allowance as leverage to get her to do something else for him—or rather as justification, since he doesn’t really need any leverage over her.

There’s a long pause, a stretched-out silence that intensifies the skin crawling jitters she hasn’t stopped feeling since she left the palace. She wishes someone would say something. She honestly can’t stand the silence.

As if on cue, Kai says, “Your stance is better. Not great, but better.”

Xiumin glances sideways at Kai, tapping his side with his elbow. Kai ignores Xiumin, gaze flickering over Hyemi’s form. She manages to control the shock on her face.

Kai nods towards the racked swords, “Why haven’t you picked up a sword yet?”

Her grip around the hilt of the wooden practice sword tightens. She doesn’t want to admit to him that she finds the thought of picking up a real sword daunting. Maybe it’s because of Xiumin’s speech to her or maybe it’s because she understands the fear that lives at the point of a drawn sword.

She shrugs.

She sees the way Xiumin’s expression darkens slightly at the mention of her picking up a real sword. She braces herself, yet again, for another lecture. She speaks, before he can, before either of them can, “Are you just here to critique me?”

Her tone is supposed to be steady, annoyed, but it wavers, the slightest bit, her voice cracking slightly at the word critique. She sets her expression in stone, stoic and annoyed, and hopes that overshadows her slip up.

Kai blinks at her, his dark eyes softening ever-so-slightly at whatever he sees in her expression. She hates it.

Xiumin, on the other hand, shakes his head, “No, we just thought we should investigate.”

“Well, you’ve investigated.” Hyemi raises her hands slightly, gesturing around at the empty training shed, “As I said earlier, clearly, all the noise was coming from the ghost.”

(Her tone sounds high-strung, bitter almost, even to her own ears.)

Xiumin stares at her, real hard, and she can’t stand how tiny their intense gazes make her feel. She wishes she could progress in her sword training; she wishes she could appear bigger than herself, like Xiumin apparently can—even the Crown Prince. But, she can’t, and she feels small and jittery and almost trapped.

“Okay.” Kai concedes, “It was the ghost.”

He starts to slowly turn away, but Xiumin is still staring at her, eyes growing slightly wary. She stares back.

She does not expect him to speak to her. She does not expect his next words, but somehow, it alleviates some of the tension in her. Somehow, it makes her feel less like she is walking through her own life blindfolded, forced to follow the instructions of everyone else around her. Somehow, she feels less jittery and high strung.

“I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but you are scheduled to move into the palace in a week’s time. It will be harder to find a place to practice discreetly in the palace.” Xiumin tells her. She blinks rapidly. Then Xiumin adds, very quietly, “Your father will assign honor guards to keep you safe, as well. That will also hinder your training.”

She stares, at both Xiumin’s blank expression and Kai’s broad back, gaze flickering back and forth.

“Why are you—why are you telling me this?” At first her voice comes out as a soft squeak. It is too vulnerable, entirely too vulnerable. So, she coughs and tries again, hardening her tone.

Xiumin just shrugs. “No one deserves to live such a blind life.”

She detects pity in his tone. She hates that even more. And then he spins, striding past Kai, pushing open the door before stepping out.

She blinks after him, gaze flickering to Kai’s broad back.

She wonders if Kai will say anything, but then he walks, his long strides taking him out the door before she can even attempt to process Xiumin’s words.

~.~.~.~.~

Xiumin is right. Her father escorts her to her palanquin and she thinks it’s funny, that she is being transported from one pretty cage to another, though the new cage will be surrounded by more spectators than she thinks she can handle.

Her father looks her in the eye, and she winces at the way his fingers tighten around her fingers, cutting off circulation. She glances up at him and he says, “I have allowed you to do many things within the walls of my home. The palace will not be as lenient. Do not even think about touching the swords there, do you understand me?”

She does not answer right away, and her father’s nails dig into her flesh. Her gaze flickers around her—to Seulgi with her head bowed next to her palanquin, to Xiumin and Kai hovering near the servants meant to transport her palanquin, the two of them dressed in royal guard outfits. She makes eye contact with Kai, for just a moment, and she’s the first to tear her gaze away, plastering on her biggest brightest smile as she nods, “Yes, I understand.”

Her father squeezes her fingers one last time before he lets her go, reaching out to press his palm to her upper arm in what she thinks is supposed to be a fatherly gesture.

“Good luck, my lovely daughter.”

~.~.~.~.~

Seulgi remains by her side, promoted by her father so she can always accompany her. Hyemi, begrudgingly, thanked her father for Seulgi’s promotion, though the look in her father’s eyes told her it was yet another tool to leverage over her. Of course, the palace provides her with many more court ladies, an entire battalion really who follow her around the palace, always a respectable distance away, head always down, never once giving her the privacy she wants or needs unless she is in her chambers or orders them to leave her be. She’s sure some of them belong to the Queen—she learned the moment the Queen invited her to tea, that the current Queen does not have her best interests in mind. She only sees her own children—not the Crown Prince—and a way for her to maintain access to the throne—though more of them belong to her father.

There is a new court lady, with a cute face and a cheerful countenance, that Hyemi is completely in awe of, because she is very, very kind, almost too kind for a place like this. Hyemi only worries about her for a moment, at least until she notices that Seulgi seems to have taken the girl—Seungwan—under her wing, constantly hovering, sometimes blushing when Seungwan would beam or quietly giggle up at Seulgi, the tips of Seulgi’s ears going red. Seungwan, Hyemi knows, is in good hands with Seulgi. And Seulgi could do with someone to balance her blunt honesty out and make her smile more often—Hyemi can count on her fingers how many times she’s seen Seulgi genuinely smile.

(“Will you paint me this time, my lady?” Seulgi would bat her eyelashes mockingly, tilting her head sideways to look at Hyemi, a mischievous grin dancing on her lips.

Hyemi had glanced sideways, at Seungwan carefully polishing Hyemi’s expensive hairpieces and jewelry with tender care. “No, I think I should draw Seungwan.”

Seungwan had looked up, startled, still smiling though. Hyemi had glanced at Seulgi, watching as her cheeks turned pink, and said, “She’s pretty, don’t you think, Seulgi?”

Seulgi would sputter, ducking to cover her face, narrowing her eyes at Hyemi. Hyemi had just laughed while Seungwan smiled at Seulgi, eyes twinkling, though she had glanced between them in confusion.

Hyemi liked to tease Seulgi often, but she doesn’t begrudge Seulgi her affections nor luck. She’s just glad that at least one of them has found someone to occupy her heart in this palace. Hyemi thinks Seulgi deserves it, at least.)

Her personal honor guards, she learns a couple days later, are none other than Xiumin and Kai. They rotate their duties, occasionally disappearing only to be replaced by a man she does not know who never introduces himself, always silent, big eyes watchful and expression stern, despite them matching in height.

The first time she sees Kai, he is waiting for her outside her chambers with the rest of her court, right before her meeting with Crown Prince Baekhyun since their first disastrous encounter. Her footsteps falter at the sight of him, her eyes widening. She catches herself though, pressing a hand to her forehead instead, pretending she feels lightheaded rather than showing her hesitance. She does not think it wise to draw attention to Kai with some of the Queen’s eyes present. She also doesn’t want him to notice her falter.

Hyemi ignores his presence, hovering right behind her, next to Seulgi. She meets Baekhyun in the pavilion that overlooks the beautiful pond, a lovely cherry tree situated right alongside the pond, its pink blossoms a long way from blooming, merely green buds waiting to burst. It is not even Spring yet.

Kai and her court await her at the bottom of the open pavilion, alongside Baekhyun’s court. Technically, they are alone, despite all the eyes on them.

Hyemi decides to play nice, gesturing to the tea cup. “May I?” She asks, eyes lowering slightly so as not to meet his eyes, as is expected from her.

Baekhyun doesn’t even acknowledge her.

She glances up at him for just a moment before she makes the decision to reach out anyway, pouring him a cup of tea. Baekhyun audibly scoffs at her actions.

She waits a long moment, ignoring the way his Eunuch grimaces unsubtly at the two of them and Baekhyun’s lack of cooperation, her unsolicited actions, before she says, her tone coming out noticeably clipped despite how much she tries to hide it, “They say a unified King and Queen is a unified Kingdom. Yin and Yang must be in harmony.”

She nearly grimaces at her own words, surprised by her own control. She looks unfazed, but she feels the complete opposite. His gaze drops from the cherry blossom tree looming past the pavilion to her face. The look in his eyes is penetrating in its aggravation. She nearly flinches, but she holds it back, meeting his gaze as steadily as she can, her fingers curling at her lap, wrinkling the fabric.

“Are you telling me how to behave?” He bites out each syllable, louder than the last, until it echoes around them, startling some of the birds bouncing along the balcony rails of the pavilion. Their flapping departure is even louder in the impending silence. Eunuch Kim presses a sleeve to his mouth, his eyes wide as he looks between them, waiting, expectant of Baekhyun to truly shout at her. It’d be comical at any other time.

He looms, even though he is just sitting and at eye level with her. He is an impending figure and she knows, deep down, she should yield to his presence. It is what is expected of her. But she doesn’t like the idea of allowing herself to bend to such a small, painful size. She does not wish to feel so tiny; she knows it will drive her mad. Still, her heart races in , because this is still the Crown Prince of her country and she isn’t even the Crown Princess yet. She is nothing to him, as she was nothing to her father on that night, as she is nothing to plenty of men in this country. She is playing with fire.

She takes a quiet breath, closing her eyes momentarily, before she tells him, “I am only providing you a gentle reminder of what you already know.”

Baekhyun frowns at her. She takes a sip of her tea. They sit in silence then, for nearly an hour. She thinks it’s better than him scoffing at her every five seconds. He does not touch the tea she poured him.

~.~.~.~.~

Eunuch Kim’s voice echoes through the courtyard as Baekhyun stomps away once again, his tone toeing the line between respectful and chastising, “Your father expects you to at least try to get to know h—”

She pretends like she doesn’t hear Baekhyun snap back, “He can take his expectations and shove it up his—”

“Your highness.”

“Eunuch Kim.”

Another voice—Baekhyun’s personal guard—speaks up, fading out as he says, “Come on, Junmyeon. After everything her father…”

Hyemi wonders, as she usually does, what her father has done to elicit such a harsh tone from even the Crown Prince’s guard. Why must she face the consequences of her father’s actions?

Her meetings with Baekhyun always leave her feeling annoyed, and, now, more than ever, she wishes she were back home so she could sneak out and whack at the training posts until she can’t feel her arms.

Hyemi turns away, stifling a sigh, ignoring the way her stomach flips when Kai meets her gaze, for just a moment, and there is a look there that appears too introspective, as if he is capable of delving right into her soul through her eyes alone. It’s only for a moment, however, because Hyemi clears and swivels on her heels, taking the long, scenic route back to the guest palace.

~.~.~.~.~

Days later, she is startled out of her late-night painting by a light knock at her screen door. No one ever knocks at her doors. In the palace, they are always announced, but she sent Seulgi, Seungwan, and the rest of her court ladies to sleep a long while ago. Besides, it’s much too late for her to be receiving guests. The knock reminds her, strangely enough, of her home.

(She’s a little homesick, surprisingly enough. She thinks it may be because her father’s home felt freer than this new cage of hers, despite how large the palace is and how it is split into separate palaces for each member of the royal family. Even she gets her own palace, when she’s finally ordained as the Crown Princess. Right now, she is just meant to live in the guest palace. It’s almost ridiculous, how big this place is. Despite the sheer size of the palace, she still feels so trapped. Everything is so utterly formal, she has no idea who she should trust, and she must always be on her toes.)

She’s hesitant as she gets to her feet. She glances around, frowning at the lack of things in the room she could use for defensive purposes, before she pads to the screen door, sliding it open slightly, and standing there, a little bit too close to the door, his chest just inches from her nose, is Kai.

She steps back, startled. He blinks, the movement rapid, before he makes a move to step forward. Kai doesn’t necessarily wait for her to step back and she is even more startled by the way his chest brushes her shoulder as he sidesteps her and strides into her chambers, his movements graceful, nonchalant.

She momentarily wonders where the hell he got the gall to act so nonchalant around her. She stares after him, slowly, dumbfoundedly, sliding the screen door shut behind her. The candlelight from her desk does not extend all the way to this end of her chambers. It’s dim, and shadows cast over him, shading his eyes, eclipsing parts of his face. She can’t help but glance away, unable to hold his gaze, lamenting herself internally for being so weak. There is something there, though, within the dark shadows, that reminds her distinctly of a sunset-lit night. And, then, it reminds her very much of a moonlit night and a sword to her neck. She still has a faint scar there, despite her father’s physician’s best effort to get rid of it. The scar sits just at the base of and, luckily, when she is in her full robes, no one can see it. But, now, she is in just her night clothes, her hair braided simply and her white clothing loose. She sees his eyes drift ever-so-slightly down to her neck, lingering there, and there is a phantom pain where her scar lays, as if her scar knows that the one who made her bear it is looking right at it.

His dark gaze then flickers back up to her face, remaining there, and she is grateful that he does not stare at her when she is dressed so lightly—she is fully covered but she is not dressed in heavy layers like she usually is, so she feels exposed standing here before him. She tries to relax a little, for dignity’s sake, despite the fact she is highly aware that he’s seen that scar she’s managed to hide so well these past years.

Her gaze drifts to his hands. He is holding what looks like a wooden sword.

She blinks, even as he silent holds it out for her.

Slowly, she reaches for the hilt, “Why did you bring me this?”

Kai draws his own sword. She freezes at the sight, even as he places his glinting sword atop one of her bookshelves before he pulls out his sword holster. It’s the same length as a sword. She stares at it, confused, until he slips into a familiar fighting stance, the holster of his sword drawn the same way one would hold a sword.

It clicks then, what he is here to do.

She glances around at her dimly lit room, at the way the light dances in his dark eyes. She blinks, owlish, and he seems to smirk at her confusion, amusement coloring his expression. “H—here?”

“It is best to keep up your training.” Kai states, nonchalant as his first steps into her quarters had been.

She stares at him, the way he waits patiently for her to lift the wooden sword. There are a million thoughts running through her head, all of them questioning. She’s not supposed to question anything, yet all she ever has is questions.

For once, she does not state any of them. She had been resorting to painting to relieve the stress and frustration that has been building within her the last couple days. Every single meeting with the Crown Prince frustrates her more and more. She decides she will take Kai up on his offer—she has refused to ask him all these days and maybe he figured out that she was too prideful to ask, so he’s asking for her. Somehow, she’s grateful for that.

She nods, fingers clenching around the hilt of the wooden swords, the callouses on the palms of her hands beginning to ache all over again. She widens her stance.

Kai reaches down and taps her ankle, indicating for her to widening it just a bit more. She does so. He doesn’t speak as she swings her sword and he easily blocks her. He just uses his sword holster to tap at her limbs, knock aside her wooden sword with ease, and gesture how she should move, occasionally muttering one-word commands. Left, right, down, down, left, right.

She moves to his rhythm, following his short commands. He blocks her blows every single time. She doesn’t block all his blows. He doesn’t let his sword holster hit her too hard, just tapping her lightly in the side, or at her neck, muttering softly, wounded or dead.

Frustration seems to both ebb out of her and grow as they spar. She moves, remaining as quiet as possible. He grins as he blocks her. He grins the entire time, eyes dancing in the dim light, until the candlelight settles so dimly, she can barely see, her palms hurting from her grip and her chest heaving, sweat trickling down her neck. Kai looks unbothered, fresh as ever. She rolls her eyes at him.

He must catch it because he snickers, softly.

He steps back, moving to sheath his glinting sword, before he holds a hand out for her wooden sword.

She is exhausted, even as she murmurs, unable to help herself, “Is there a reason for this?”

She can’t quite see his eyes, thanks to how low the candlelight is. He says, “Every time you left your meetings with the Crown Prince, you looked like you wanted to hit something.”

She can’t help the giggle bubbling from her lips because, honestly, he is not wrong.

Kai’s voice is soft, “I only wish to help you relieve your stress.”

She doesn’t know why her cheeks redden at that, at the low rumble of his voice and the slightest bit of sincerity in his tone. She murmurs, “You do not have to do that. If my father finds out, you will get in trouble.”

“It’s fine. This is an important skill to have, anyway. It’ll keep you safe.” Kai says, “Besides, I doubt your father will appreciate if you snap and really do end up hitting the Prince.”

She snorts again. Still, she can’t help but linger, wondering if maybe Kai knows more than he’s letting on. He always knows so much more than he ever lets on.

She asks, slowly, pointedly, “Keep me safe from who?”

There’s a pause. He looks at her the way he always looks at her when she asks one question too many.

“Goodnight, Princess. We will see each other soon.” Then he walks away, his shoes clicking loudly against the floor. She stares after his broad back, long after he’s gone.

She’s positive he knows more than he’s letting on. She wants to know what it is, but, as usual, that is not her place. Frustration bubbles up again, deep in the pit of her stomach. She puts away her paint supplies and blows out her candle, slipping into bed sore and with a running mind. Surprisingly, she sleeps well that night, despite everything.

~.~.~.~.~

Her stomach flips every time there’s a light knock on her door late at night, like clockwork.

“You came.” She says, one time, meeting his gaze as she cracks open the door just enough for him to slip through.

His chest brushes her arm as he slips past her and pulls out her wooden sword, his own sword holster, like clockwork.

He’s close enough and her candle has enough light for her to see his face, to see the furrow of his brows, and the way his eyes seem to dance with the candle flames. His full lips are pursed as he murmurs, “Why do you seem so surprised every time?”

She shrugs, trying for nonchalance as she takes the wooden sword from his outstretched hands. “It’s dangerous. I figure you’d come to your senses eventually.”

He lets out a little laugh. “Are you worried for me, Crown Princess?”

She scoffs, jabbing out with her wooden sword. He knocks it away with a swift, controlled swipe of his sword holster. “No, just wondering why it seems you’ve lost your mind.” She dodges a few of his jabs, wincing when he gets her in the side in the last hit. “Why…why do you keep coming back?”

He just shrugs, “I’m not sure. It’s not like you’re actually learning anything from these lessons.”

She scowls. He chuckles, shuffling forward, holster raised. She huffs as she rights her stance, focusing on Kai’s attacks.

Later, long after he’s gone, long after he murmurs goodnight, princess like clockwork, long after he tacks, tone full of promise, I will see you soon, she wonders why he never answered her question.

~.~.~.~.~

“Will you ever pick up a real sword?” Kai is quiet as he says it, seated cross-legged across from her sprawled out form.

She tries to catch her breath, her body sore. She’s staring at the dark ceiling, the candlelight so dim, it’s barely there, more darkness occupying the room then light.

She imagines picking up a real sword. Her heart races against her ribs at the thought, especially knowing that Kai would be the one pointing a sword at her. It still dredges up fear in her, though it’s lessened a bit, perhaps because she’s beginning to get used to Kai’s presence.

Still, there is anxiety surrounding a real sword and she’s unsure of her answer to his question.

She doesn’t know. “I don’t know.”

Kai doesn’t push it. He just lets out a soft sigh. She blinks, startled, when she feels a pressure against her forearm. She turns her head and, in the darkness, under the smallest dying flickers of candlelight, she can see Kai’s hand against her forearm, patting her hesitantly, a little awkwardly. Her gaze jumps to his face. She can see the smallest hint of concern furrowing at his brows.

She blinks. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone look at her that way—aside from maybe Seulgi once when she had fallen ill.

He lifts his hand.

He says, “Sorry.”

She wonders if he’s apologizing for touching her or for something more, for everything. She wonders, but she doesn’t ask.

~.~.~.~.~

Baekhyun meets her gaze, for once, and it’s surprising. Even Eunuch Kim is surprised, brows rising so high they nearly disappear into his hairline. Baekhyun reaches over and takes the teapot from her hands, his nimble fingers skittering over the ornately painted kettle as he swiftly pours himself his own cup of tea and then—and then he pours her a cup.

She stares at him as if he’s grown an extra head.

He rolls his eyes dramatically at her expression.

She doesn’t touch her tea as he says, tone almost mechanic, both annoyed and pained, surprisingly enough, “The date has been set.”

She raises a brow, politely inquiring, “And when is the auspicious day, your highness?”

She can’t hide the sarcasm in her tone well. Eunuch Kim scowls at her. Baekhyun’s personal guard—Kim Jongdae, Eunuch Kim had told her when she asked, noting the way he had scowled as he said the name, as if he hated even uttering the man’s name in the first place—turns his sharp gaze on her for a brief moment before he lets his gaze drop back to the book in his hand, his heavy presence condensing back to the corner of the room he’s occupied since they’ve arrived.

(She briefly wonders why in the world her father hasn’t informed her yet. He should at least allow her time to prepare herself.)

“In three days.” Baekhyun states, tone bland, rigid.

All she can manage is a too-polite, “Wonderful.”

Baekhyun doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t bother taking a sip of his tea. Neither does she. They both just stare at the teacups as if somehow, someway, the teacups will sprout to life and tell them this is not true.

~.~.~.~.~

“—can’t just decide something like that and then teach her—Crown Princess, what are you doing here?”

Hyemi stares, gaze flickering from Xiumin’s hands on his hips and his stern expression to Kai’s stubborn one. Xiumin has Kai backed up into one of the shelves, but Kai doesn’t collapse at all under the obvious pressure. He stands tall, his lips pursed, brows scrunched, expression adamant. She finds it fascinating—the stubbornness there. But, the moment Xiumin catches sight of her and announces her presence, Kai’s expression shifts into one of nonchalance. Xiumin still looks incredibly angry.

Hyemi gestures around them, slowly, “This is the library. I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

Xiumin blinks at her before glancing around them, eyes widening as if he’s only just realized where he is. “Oh, uh, well we’re reading.”

“It looks more like an argument.”

“It was a very good book.” Kai says, all nonchalance, despite how Xiumin can barely hide his previous annoyance with Kai.

Hyemi nods, slowly, copying his nonchalance, “Which one is it, then? I’d like to read it.”

She raises a brow, but Kai pushes himself off the shelf and strides towards her. He brushes past her, his steps echoing, until he reaches a pile of books in the corner, dusty from obvious disuse. “This one.” He says, his voice low.

He strides up to her with sure steps, arm outstretched. She blinks at the book. She glances up at him and he gives her a tiny smile, genuine and somehow sweet, kind almost. It’s disconcerting, unexpected.

She takes the book.

Kai brushes past her, once again, this time his shoulder brushing up against hers. She knows he’s breaking a rule or two by doing that. She spins on her heels, but Kai is long gone, Xiumin just stepping past the threshold of the library, gone like the wind.

She stares at the book and when she gets a closer look, she lets out a soft curse, scowling at the book.

It is a blank, its pages holding nothing. She should toss it back, curse him for messing with her, but she does not.

~.~.~.~.~

“Where are you going?”

It’s late at night and she’s just stepping out of the guest palace, cloak over her head, when she’s startled by a dark figure looming over her. She yelps, pressing her hands over to quickly stifle the noise. Xiumin, of all people, blinks at her, arms crossed over his chest. She wonders how in the world he could possibly look down at her that way when he is standing at the bottom of the stairs and she’s is technically looking down on him. How is he so good at making his presence seem so encompassing?

“Going on a walk.” She states, bites out really. Compared to Kai, Xiumin is a snowstorm, always cold towards her, never once responding in length to any of her questions when it’s his turn to act as her guard, and he is restricting. She used to wonder why, but now she figures it’s because he values her father’s commands (his life really) over her attempting to step out of line. And he’s probably upset that she managed to rope Kai into teaching her how to use a sword. Frankly, she doesn’t blame him for being cold with her.

Xiumin still has his arms crossed over his chest, his almond shaped eyes pinned on her. His gaze flickers up towards the palace looming behind her, the moonlight casting a silver light over his features, highlighting the small scar on his cheek and the bags under his eyes. Despite all that, Xiumin is still handsome, in an almost delicate kind of way, completely contradicting his profession (and the scowls he’d occasionally send her when she says something out of line to the Prince or mutters snarky asides to Seulgi when she knows no one else is listening). He is young, though, young enough for her to wonder why in the world he contains so much sadness in his eyes. He can barely hide the sadness. Even she can pick it up and she’s supposed to be an oblivious, coddled noblewoman.

“Are you sure you’re not planning on running away?” Xiumin asks, his gaze still lingering past her head, on the palace.

She blinks, “Of course not.”

“I really can’t afford having a runaway bride on my watch.”

“Then follow me, I don’t care.” She rolls eyes, dropping her usual pleasant poker face for the annoyance she’s been wanting to unleash. The jittery feeling itching right under her skin has become unbearable with the wedding right around the corner. She thought maybe stepping outside of the palace, with no court full of ladies or personal guards or a million eyes watching her, would do her some good, especially because starting tomorrow every single one of her movements will be meticulously watched by the entire palace for the rest of her life.

Xiumin blinks at her for a moment and his eyes soften slightly, similar to the moments when he had looked at her when he told her he did not want her to enter the palace blind or when he’d be waiting for her after one of her meetings with Baekhyun. He never says anything, but his eyes are incredibly expressive. He looks at her, she knows, with the slightest bit of pity. She’s always hated it.

She scowls.

Xiumin says, “Still, I can’t allow you to pass those gates, especially not after curfew the night before your wedding. It will look bad on your reputation.”

“Reputation.” Hyemi repeats the word, frowning, “Everyone already knows how much the Crown Prince hates me. My reputation is bad enough.”

“That may be true, but your father specifically instructed that you stay within these walls.”

“I can’t even go to the other parts of the palace? To the courtyard?”

“It’s past curfew and the gates are closed.”

Hyemi’s fingers tremble a little, due to that same jittery feeling growing and growing within her, the frustration at the pit of her stomach only getting worse. She stares at Xiumin real hard and he stares right back.

For a moment, she thinks about just making a run for it. It would certainly relieve some of the anxiety crawling all over her skin like tiny ants. Her fingers ball into fists and Xiumin just stares and stares, unfazed, almost bored, as if he’s waiting for a tantrum to burst out of her and then he can drag her back to her chambers and be done with this.

But, then, the feeling subsides, and she just feels defeated. Exhausted.

She sinks to the ground, seating herself at the topmost stair leading out of the palace and Xiumin’s eyes follow her descent from the bottommost stair. She draws her knees up to her chest and feels just as small as she always does under Baekhyun’s unrelenting glares, or her father’s stern expression, or when Kai would knock her wooden sword out of her hands for the hundredth time and she tries not to take the losses to heart.

There’s a long, long pause before Xiumin says, tone incredibly hesitant, halting, “Are you—are you crying?”

She blinks rapidly at his assumption, glancing up at him as she grimaces, “No.”

He looks relieved as he nods once, smile firm, “Oh, good.”

His expression makes her laugh, snorting in a very unladylike manner. Xiumin seems to relax at that, smiling as the tension trickles out from his shoulders. After another moment passes, she asks, very quietly, “Will I ever be allowed outside of these palace walls after tomorrow?”

She doesn’t know why she asks Xiumin of all people. Maybe, there’s something about his presence—the way he gives her and Seulgi a pointed look when she makes remarks under her breath to Seulgi, who always has to bite her lip to stifle her laughter, or the way he tends to watch over her very carefully whenever it’s his turn to guard her, or when Jongdae would scowl at her and Xiumin would scowl back in her defense, all behind Baekhyun’s back—that makes her feel like she can ask him such a question and she will not receive an appeasing, half-hearted reply back. He seems the type to tell her how it is, unlike most people in this palace.

He stares at her for just a minute before he states, tone blunt, “No.”

She nods, swallowing down the lump in . She watches as he slowly steps up to her before he plops down beside her on the step. Xiumin peers around at the empty palace grounds around them before he adds, “Will that be so bad? You have all the food you could ever want here. You are comfortable. So, is that so bad?”

There is nothing spiteful about his tone, it is just placating. He isn’t wrong. She should be grateful, shouldn’t she? Not many people get such luxuries in this kingdom. She is never without.

“But, I am alone.” She admits. She can’t help the way her voice cracks a little at the last word, her façade breaking apart just slightly, long enough for the vulnerability she always tries to bury to leak through.

She blinks away at her tears, unable to look to the side and truly meet Xiumin’s piercing gaze.

Another moment passes, Xiumin weighing his words carefully before he says, “You have Seulgi.”

“She works for me. She has to like me.”

“She doesn’t have to like you. I don’t necessarily like your father.” Xiumin snorts.

She can’t help but smile.

Another pause, before Xiumin says, “You have Kai.”

She blinks, “We’re not friends.”

Xiumin doesn’t inquire further on that, though he does raise a brow, in skepticism. She’s glad he doesn’t ask, choosing instead to remain silent. She’s sure he knows of their history—he must. Anyways, aside from Kai showing up in the middle of the night occasionally to teach her how to sword fight and their bantering, the quiet, tentative words they tend to share when her candles are moments from running out, and the looks he gives her when he’s guarding her, they don’t interact often. She doesn’t think Kai considers her a friend, either. Perhaps, they are acquaintances. Perhaps, they are just teacher and student. But, she thinks they’re not really friends, yet.

(She thinks of the way he murmured sorry to her that one night. She thinks maybe, they are on the road to friendship. Maybe, they are getting there.)

Xiumin still has a brow raised as he nods slowly, before he hums, expression contemplative, thoughtful. Slowly, he says, “Then, we can be friends.”

She frowns, “But, you don’t like me.”

“I just think you’re spoiled and troublesome.”

“That’s not a very good way to start a friendship, you know.”

“Do you want to be friends or not?”

Hyemi contemplates that question, smiling at the irritation in his tone as he says it. Xiumin smiles, too. She stares at the walls surrounding the palace as she purposefully draws out her contemplation, though she knows her answer already. She could do with another friend. So, she says, “I think I’d like that, us being friends.”

She turns her head to the side, smiling, and Xiumin grins back, surprisingly, smile gummy. It changes his face, lights up his features in a way that makes her wonder, yet again, why such a young man has so much sadness in his eyes. At least, his smile is still bright. At least he still has that.

She doesn’t expect him to say anything—he seems to be a man of little words. She watches his smile linger, his almond eyes flickering over her expression for a moment, brows furrowed slightly in contemplation, before he seems to nod to himself, a decisive movement she is curious about. Before she can ask, he speaks.

“Then call me Minseok.” Xiumin murmurs, still smiling that gummy smile, though this time it is kinder. His eyes, however, are a little bit sadder. “It’s what my friends call me.”

“Minseok.” She repeats the name, rolling it over on her tongue a few times as she repeats it.

~.~.~.~.~

Eunuch Kim allows her a genuine smile for once, when he arrives in her chambers with the announcement that the Crown Prince has arrived at the guest palace. Her silk robes slide against her skin and her hair ornaments are heavy. She follows him, her court behind her. Her steps are slow, steady, as they are supposed to be.

She remains silent, as she is supposed to be. She follows Eunuch Kim to the guest room in her palace and she knows that after this final meeting, she will have to leave this palace, too, and enter the palace that is meant to be her true home, where she must live out the rest of her days, waiting for Prince Baekhyun to visit, telling all her court ladies what to do for the most insignificant things, until she bears a perfect baby boy to follow in his father’s footsteps.

There’s a nudge against her back, soft, barely there, but it jolts her out of her thoughts. She notices she has stopped walking, frozen in the middle of the hallway. Eunuch Kim is waving a hand in front of her face. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts—they are so muddled, so full, and she doesn’t need that right now. Then, she smiles pleasantly as ever and waits for Eunuch Kim to announce her presence.

The doors open to Baekhyun’s court waiting for her, a twitching lump wrapped in ornate cloth lying on the table, its low honking echoing in the silence as Baekhyun stares directly at her. His beautiful silk robes seem to emphasize just how young he looks. He looks as young as she feels all dressed up in clothing that she never would have chosen to wear on her own accord. He looks like a young man playing dress-up, and perhaps that is the perfect description of the two of them, today. His expression, though, is blank and withdrawn. She selfishly hopes he will be kind to her, at least today, at least for the rest of this ceremony.

He barely even looks her over, barely even looks at her really. The doors to the palace are open behind him, the sunlight gleaming from behind him. She knows his palanquin is waiting alongside hers, surrounded by her personal honor guards waiting to her to the palace with Baekhyun, her own court ladies meant to follow alongside her. She knows that all she must do, here and now, is accept this rite—this goose that simply symbolizes marital fidelity, the fifth rite of six. She doesn’t remember going through the motions of the other four rites, but perhaps she had done them unintentionally, her father never once telling her what she was doing. That was probably what all those meetings with Baekhyun had been for. Even if they were for show, they were important rituals they were supposed to at least pretend to go through the motions of for the people of the kingdom and the record books.

She is glad she is not supposed to speak, right then, her eyes lingering on the twitching goose, tied up and suffocated by a beautiful, intricately embroidered piece of cloth, unable to speak or object to its fate. Seulgi gestures at a few servants to take the goose from the table and she watches them gingerly take the bird away. It squirms, honks earnestly, and she cannot help but watch them haul it away.

Eunuch Kim pours one single glass of wine, handing it off to Baekhyun. Baekhyun blinks at it for just a moment before he takes a large gulp from it—perhaps an irresponsible amount judging from the way Eunuch Kim’s eyes nearly burst out of his head. Baekhyun holds it out to her, then, his arm outstretched over the table. Slowly, she reaches out to take the cup from him. She meets his gaze and he is looking directly at her, this time.

It’s the first time, she realizes, he has looked her in the eye since the day she met him.

Somehow, that moment of acknowledgement spurs her into action, a restlessness churning at the pit of her stomach as she presses the glass to her lips and takes a bigger gulp of wine than he had, nearly finishing off the glass, the burn of the alcohol making her eyes water. Baekhyun snorts, very softly. Eunuch Kim appears so very disappointed and tired.

They both smile, both amused with the situation, with each other, and it’s a moment of camaraderie that Hyemi would have never expected from Baekhyun. Of course, it only lasts a few seconds, disappearing once Eunuch Kim herds them out the door.

They hurry to the palanquins, both Xiumin—Minseok—and Kai waiting by her palanquin, their black robes made of a silkier material than what they usually wear. There’s also the large-eyed, stoic, incredibly tight-lipped guard that sometimes guards her, Kyungho or Kyungsoo, as silent as ever. Her honor guards. She meets Minseok’s gaze for a moment, while Seulgi pulls away the veils of her palanquin so she can step inside. He gives her a reassuring smile, tiny, barely there, and the tight knot at the pit of her stomach loosens. She had hoped that giant gulp of wine would have helped with the nerves, but it just left her feeling more strung up. She is grateful for Minseok. At least he is allowing her a bit of kindness today. She climbs into the palanquin and right before the veil falls closed, she meets Kai’s gaze.

His eyes are filled with an awe she has never seen on a person before, as if he is mesmerized, as if he is a child seeing the sunset for the first time. For a moment, she holds the veil up, her fingers curling tightly around the silky material, even as the palanquin is lifted from the ground, just to take in the look in his eyes and try to understand it, fathom it, somehow, someway. There is something so strange about the look in his eyes, something that she wants so badly to decipher.

But, then, he blinks, and it disappears.

She lets the veil slip from her fingers, allowing it to flutter shut.

He disappears, and she is alone in her palanquin, enclosed by its walls as they begin the Royal Procession. She is alone and left to wonder. All she can do is wonder—of her future, of her father’s misdeeds, of that strange look from Kai, of everything.

~.~.~.~.~

She sits in an unfamiliar room, barely able to hold back her yawn. Seulgi grins down at her as she wipes off the last bits of Hyemi’s makeup, Seungwan folding her silk wedding robes carefully. She is only dressed in white robes. She looks around, trying to get used to her new chambers. It is much bigger than what she had at the other palace.

She imagines practicing her swordplay here would be much easier; she can swing her sword as much as she wants and there’s more room to practice her footwork. There’s enough room for both Kai and her to sprawl out without touching.

She blinks out of her thoughts, however, when the Crown Prince is announced through the screen door. Seulgi and Seungwan both jump to their feet, but she takes her time, her slow movements bordering on insolence. Baekhyun steps into the room, watching her only just fully getting to her feet with a petulant scowl on his face.

She can’t help but find it amusing. She figures their moment of truce during the wedding is long over.

(It had been over the moment her father had appeared at her side and spoke to Baekhyun during the feast.)

Baekhyun doesn’t say a word yet both Seungwan and Seulgi are scurrying out the room, eyes lowered as they bow and back out of the room. Hyemi watches them go, waiting until the door slides closed behind them before she says, eyes never leaving the screen door, “I was not expecting you, your highness.”

There is an obvious bitterness in her tone. She cannot hide it nor the slight tremor. She knew this was inevitable—it’s her duty as the Crown Princess, and as a married woman, but there’s still something so unsettling about something she has only thought of in passing coming to fruition with a man who seems to truly hate her. All she wants to do is sleep. She doesn’t want Baekhyun to touch her.

There’s a moment, a brief silence that stretches on between them, seeping into the cracks their entire marriage was founded on. Baekhyun’s scowl on her only deepens, though he does not say anything.

For once, she has no idea what to say, either.

Baekhyun snaps out. “I only came to inform you that I will not be sleeping here with you.”

His words, though spoken harshly, each syllable biting, relieves an immense amount of tension from her shoulders. She feels her body slacken at his words. She tries not to sound too happy when she murmurs, “That is unfortunate, your highness.”

Baekhyun snorts, but she watches him nod to himself before he spins on his heels, the doors sliding open for him as he strides away.

She lets out a deep, shaky breath.

~.~.~.~.~

Seulgi peers at her that night, watching her paint. Her brows are furrowed together in concern as she peers at what Hyemi is painting in silence.

“I told you to go to sleep, didn’t I?” Hyemi sighs, eventually fed up by the feeling of eyes on her, speaking as she her paint brush along the canvas, small, slow, and gentle , movement delicate despite how she feels. Hyemi isn’t quite paying attention to what she’s painting. She never really does anymore. She just finds the motions of painting soothing.

“Yes, I’ll go, I’ll go. It’s just…” Seulgi waves a hand, yawning loudly, “It’s been a long day, you must be exhausted, too.”

Hyemi doesn’t respond.

Seulgi murmurs, “Go to bed. You have a long life ahead of you, Hyemi.”

Hyemi watches Seulgi bow to her, half-assed as she usually does when they’re alone, before she leaves the room. Hyemi blinks, staring long after she’s gone, before she turns back to her painting.

It is of the goose, the final rite offering, bound so tightly, it is near suffocation, by an ornate cloth that closely resembles her wedding robes—the ones provided to her by her father.

a/n: here's chapter two! I'm super excited to have this unfold for yall but I'm still unsure with the amount of chapters. please let me know your thoughts below! <3