We Wait

In Silence

[title track: runaway - eric nam]
[14k, warning for parental abuse just in case anyone needed to know!]


T H R E E


Hyemi doesn’t expect her sword lessons to continue inside of the main palace, since now eyes on her have increased tenfold and she’s sure more than half of them are eyes belonging to everyone but her father.

It’d be indecent, for her to have such clandestine meetings in the dead of night with another man when she is married, no matter what the purpose of the meetings are. It can be misconstrued into something else very easily. It would call for both her and Kai’s punishment.

Yet, there’s a knock at her door, long after she’s dismissed her court ladies, and she slides open her door just a smidge, her eyes widening at the mere fact that her nose is centimeters from Kai’s chest. She looks up, surprised at his proximity, at the way he peers down at her, a small, lazy grin dripping from his lips. He seems to be amused by her reactions, her surprise and then her embarrassment at how close he is to her, even as she steps back and yanks the door open for him, quickly shutting it behind him. She spins to face him, frowning, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck at the amusement in his eyes.

She frowns at him, “What are you doing here?”

He just tosses the wooden sword at her. Her reflexes are awful, and she fumbles with it before it hits the ground, clattering loudly. She freezes, worried about the loud noise, and he cackles at her expression.

She scowls.

His amusement grows, smothering his expression, twisting it into something that she might call adorable, if he weren’t laughing at her.

She reaches for the sword while he casually unsheathes his own sword, as he always does. She can tell that he notices the way she stiffens at the silver glint, she always does, but he doesn’t bring it up. He never does.

“Come on.” He says, raising a brow at her in a sort of infuriatingly challenging sort of way. “Let’s see how much you remember.”

She rolls her eyes, body easily settling into a fighting stance. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Usually, he would not respond to her, choosing instead to try to poke her in the ribs with his sword holster—perhaps his way of getting her to shut up. Usually, it’d work. She’d be too sweaty, heart racing too hard, to manage uttering another comment. At that point, he’d just smirk, brow free of sweat, perfectly poised, as if nothing she did could faze him. It is just as frustrating now as it had been before the wedding.

This time, however, he does not jump straight into it. Instead, he responds to her earlier words, his voice low, “I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?”

She blinks at him as he raises his sword holster, waiting instead for her to make the first move.

It’s a first, catching her off guard, but she quickly catches her bearings and follows through, lunging for him.

He grins, positively beams, even as he easily dodges her attacks.

It goes on like this, on and on and on, for what feels like a couple hours, until he knocks the wooden sword from her fingers, and she grips her wrist, frowning at it before she looks up at him, attempting to catch her breath. She makes a face at the way he grins—she’s never seen him so full of glee—and she says, “Beating me really makes your day, doesn’t it?”

That seems to catch Kai off guard because he pauses, blinking down at her, tilting his head to the side just a bit, strands of his hair escaping his tight bun and falling into his eyes. His dark eyes remain on her for a moment too long.

“What do you mean?” He asks, head still tilted. His eyes twinkle and they remind her of puddles glistening under lantern lights, after the rains have stopped and the sun has gone down and she would sneak off to train on her own.

“You’re so happy.” She says, full of wonder at the observation, and she knows she shouldn’t pry—they’re not friends, so it’s really none of the business—but she blurts out, “What happened?”

Perhaps, she just wants good news, from anyone. She’s certainly not happy and she’d like to vicariously live through someone these days. Seulgi won’t give her any details regarding her and Seungwan—Hyemi’s figures it’s because Seulgi is embarrassingly into her, always blushing whenever Seungwan’s around or Hyemi asks of her. Hyemi still feels strangely awkward around Minseok, even though they’ve recently decided to be friends. Also, Minseok still scolds her often—he had just scolded her earlier in the day for scoffing at something Baekhyun had said to his Eunuch.

Hyemi watches as Kai blinks at her, for a long long moment, still smiling ever-so-slightly, and it reminds her vaguely of his expression before she let the veil fall between them, right before the Royal Procession. There is something in his dark eyes that reminds her so utterly of the stars that fill the dark sky on clear, cloudless nights. There is something so very nice about it. She is not reminded of his status as an assassin nor is she reminded of how he tried to kill her when they were children. He is just a boy with stars in his eyes and a fondness gracing his lips that she’d like to know the reason behind.

Kai, then, shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

She raises a brow, “Really?”

He gives her a look, “Can’t I just be happy for the sake of it?”

She straightens up as she swipes at the sweat at her brow. She decides she is imagining the way his eyes follow the movement of her hand, lingering, because the candlelight is dim, and the shadows create movements that are not there. She shrugs, suppressing a smile, “Yes, but if you don’t give me a reason, I’m just going to assume it’s because you enjoy watching me lose.”

“Then, it seems your assumption is correct.” Kai shrugs, as well.

She scowls, pursing her lips.

He smiles, the corners of his lips tilting upwards the smallest bit, at her expression.

She announces, a little indignant at his amusement, “I am going to bed, then.”

Kai nods, bowing slightly, “Okay, Princess. I’ll be here tomorrow then.”

She flushes and she blames it on her sweating and exhaustion. That must be it. She manages a concerned, “Why?”

(She doesn’t think it’s really worth the risk to train her. She just wants to know why he seems to think so.)

“Have you given up already?” He asks, eyes appraising her slowly. She feels judged under his gaze. It bothers her—frustrates her.

She shakes her head, a quick movement.

“Good.” He says, nodding, “Then I will see you tomorrow. Hopefully, you finally start to win.”

She watches him leave, as swiftly as he came. Something about him, about the way he levels her with steady looks, asks her questions he already knows her answers to, it leaves her frustrated. She figures it’s because it’s him—it’s the boy who tried to kill her, who made her realize just how wicked her father was at such a young age. She cannot stand him, not really. At least that’s what she wants to think, but she knows there’s more to it. She refuses to dwell on that thought.

~.~.~.~.~

She knows what people think of her. She is obedient, quiet, pretty enough, and married to a Prince who obviously hates her just as much as he seems to hate her father. Her father is not the only one who sees her as a pawn—a doll, a player, nothing but a body to be put in situations they deem fit in order to produce calculated results. People think she is weak-willed and stupid. She can see it plain as day when the Queen invites her to tea in her chambers and makes snide, backhanded comments right to her face with a pretty smile dripping from her lips. She can see it when the royal court happens to witness Baekhyun rolling his eyes at her or blatantly ignoring her and she never tells him off, just smiles politely, head bowed, and acts as if he isn’t treating her worse than the dirt beneath his shoes. She can see it.

(Even the rumors of her that flit around the kingdom is generic—the most beautiful woman in the world, filial, all words that describe her outwardly appearance and how she best serves others, while her abilities, anything that is solely hers, are ignored, from her paintings to her obvious interest in spending hours in the library.)

Sometimes those thoughts she’s entirely too aware of bleed into her perception of the few people she’d deem her friends. Sometimes, she wonders if Seulgi thinks her an idiot, too. Does Minseok? Does K—

They’re not friends. She and Kai are not friends, so his opinions do not matter.

Still, despite how useless and stupid so many people believe her to be, she knows she is anything but.

She’s not stupid.

She stares at Kai, attempting to catch her breath. For once, he looks caught off guard and she relishes in that for a moment, because she managed to nick him in in the side with the tip of her practice sword and it had caused him to jolt, reeling back. She’s better, much better, than she used to be. She can see the acknowledgement pass through Kai’s eyes, a sparkling look and a tiny smirk. She fools herself into thinking that maybe it is pride. She’s doing well enough to warrant such a feeling, she thinks.

Still, she’s not stupid. It’s been nearly a month since they began training in this new palace, a month since she’s wedded Baekhyun, and she knows they’re incredibly lucky they haven’t been caught yet. The palace itself is much harder to sneak around, since the very walls seem to have eyes.

Kai is pushing his luck and she doesn’t think anyone—especially a boy who most certainly does not consider her a friend, perhaps barely even considers her an acquaintance—would take a risk like this just because she wanted to learn how to use a sword.

She’s not stupid. He has a reason for this. He must because not even she would do something like this out of her own good will. It’s too dangerous, and this is Kai. The boy who took a sword to when they were kids, who wouldn’t look her in the eye for years in her father’s house, who spoke to her in short sentences, expression always stony, though eyes unwavering, almost daring her to speak to him, who she watched kill a man of the royal court without hesitation.

She says, repeats really, quietly, breathlessly, “Why are you doing this?”

Kai’s tiny smile slips from his face and she watches him clam up, though his dark gaze remains unwavering and still as they lock with her. She isn’t necessarily anxious, this time, because his sword is sitting in the corner of the room, behind her, and—and she wonders why her brain keeps going to that, to that stupid sword, why she manages to associate him to that all the time. She wants to be over that, but she isn’t. She isn’t.

Kai tilts his head to the side, ever-so-slightly, small pieces of hair falling from his bun as he appraises her. Her cheeks redden a bit at the way he looks at her, so contemplative, piercing as if he wants to pull her thoughts from her head with his eyes alone. He asks, “What do you mean?”

She wonders, briefly, if he thinks she’s as stupid as the rest of them seem to.

She gestures around her, at her large bedchambers, at the palace, and she says, “The risk you are taking to teach me this is—it’s only a matter of time until you are caught. You know that. I know you know that. We’ve spoken about it before. So, why are you doing this? I have a thousand more guards to protect me, now. I don’t really need to learn this anymore.”

She’s staring at the wooden sword. She wants to learn it, she really does, but she knows she’ll never want to pick up a real sword, not when she’s been at the end of one once before. Neither does she want anyone to get in trouble—or Heavens forbid—beheaded for her actions.

“Wasn’t it you who asked Minseok to teach you? I’m just doing what you want.”

“I do not wish to do this any longer if you will get in trouble.”

“It’s important.”

“Why do you care?”

The words slip from her lips, too fast, too hurried, curious but also exasperated.

She stares at him, real hard, and she watches his gaze briefly flicker off to the side, unable to meet her steady gaze for just a moment. At least until his eyes land on her again and there is indifference twinkling in his eyes all over again. “Do I really need a reason to teach you?”

She blinks, moving on autopilot as she murmurs, “The risks far outweigh the rewards. Why would you when we’re not—I’m not—we’re not friends, right?”

He doesn’t say anything.

She ignores the twinge of disappointment at the pit of her stomach in lieu of muttering, “I thought so.”

“I want you to be able to defend yourself.” He says, very simply.

She raises a brow, “I want to know why that matters to you?”

He looks at her, really looks, gaze intent, as it always is whenever he watches people, anyone, talk. It’s a habit of his, she’s come to notice, to gaze intently at whoever is speaking, despite his role within the shadows, where he should remain unnoticeable and indifferent. His eyes roam over her face for a moment and she thinks he’ll cave and tell her the real reason why. For a moment, she sees that there is a reason. There is a hesitance in his demeanor that screams of a purpose. Besides, there must be something that outweighs the risks he’s taking because he is not her friend.

She wouldn’t even expect a friend to take such a risk for her.

There is a long, drawn out silence where they just stare at each other, assess each other. Her brows furrow together and his eyes skit over her face.

“I want you—” He begins. Her heartbeat picks up and the heat from all the exercise and sweating makes her cheeks feel hot. He tilts his head as he looks at her and she wonders if he thinks something of her reaction. It’s not a reaction to his words, to his tone, it’s not. It’s not. He continues, repeats, tone firm, “I want you to be able to defend yourself.”

She cannot help but glower at him and his obvious avoidance of her question, “Do you think I am an idiot?”

Her voice is low, accusing.

He blinks at her, almost a languid movement, as he just observes her. She hates that, she decides. She hates the watchful gaze, the analyzing, because it reminds her so distinctly of every single person who has ever set their gaze on her in this castle. He says, “No, I do not.”

“Well, I kn—what?” She cuts herself off, registering his words a moment too late, her face heating up once again. She’s infinitely glad that the candlelight is so dim, and the color of her cheeks are most likely unnoticeable to him.

Though the shadows falling over him obscure his features significantly, she catches the slight upwards tick to his lips and she hears the low chuckle echo through the room. “I do not think you’re an idiot. I never did.” Kai murmurs, his tone so very patient, so very quiet, as it always is, as if he always hiding away. Maybe, he is.

“I—oh.” She stutters. She hates it, especially when his smile seems to grow.

He says, “I just think you ask too many questions. You’re not supposed to.”

She bristles at that reminder. “So, what if I do? I want to know what you’re hiding from me.”

“It’ll only endanger you more if you did know.” He says, so very simply. She hates the logic in his voice, the sense.

“Endangered from what?”

He doesn’t say anything.

She speaks, voice low, pointed, edged with frustration. She is exhausted and she allows the frustration that has been growing every day since long, long ago, from Baekhyun and her father and every single plan revolving her that she had never been informed of beforehand, from the way the Queen would sneer at her, the way she’d just have to take it, allow her father to deal with it, as he always put it. “You are not allowed to do that.” She grits her teeth, hates how her voice grows a little shrill. “You are not allowed to keep information from me.”

She tries to look and sound intimidating, the way she believes the Crown Princess and Future Queen should. But it’s hard to look intimidating when she is a good head shorter than him and so much less bulky. It’s hard when her chin is trembling, and the frustration causes angry tears to well up in her eyes. Still, she does not let it fall or deter her, lifting her wooden sword to poke Kai’s chest, emphasizing her words as menacingly as she can.

After a minute of Kai just blinking down at the wooden sword pressed to his chest, he reminds her, an edge to his tone that makes her skin prickle ever-so-slightly, “I do not answer to you, Princess.”

She scowls at him, at his reminder, and he holds her gaze, his dark, steady eyes mixing with the shadows. For a moment, she loses his face in the shadows and she is confused, wonders if the candle had gone out, until she realizes that her unshed tears are blurring her vision. She blinks them away, very rapidly, dropping the wooden sword. The resulting clatter is deafening in the emptiness of her chambers. “I kn—know.” She mutters, and she hates how her voice cracks in the middle.

(She is tired, so immensely exhausted, with the knowledge that in the end, she has no sway in anything, anything, around her. No one really answers to her. They answer to her father. Her heartbeat quickens at that, her chest tightening, her breathing staggering slightly. Her blood starts to run, thrum under her veins, and she feels so entirely confined, right then. Despite how vast her surroundings are, she feels like the walls are too close, pushing in on her, and she hates it so much.)

She takes a deep breath, the way she does when she can feel her expression cracking in front of Baekhyun or the Queen or the court and she says, “I just thought I’d try.” She shrugs, and it feels mechanical. Still, she bends over and holds out the wooden sword by the handle. She can feel Kai’s gaze on her, but she does not meet his eyes as she says, “Here. I do not want to learn anymore, so please stop coming.”

She thinks Kai will say something, but all he does is take the sword from her hand and gather his things. Her gaze lingers on his unsheathed sword in the corner of the room, only tearing away when he turns to bow deeply to her. He leaves with light, soundless steps and she does not feel any lighter as he goes. Instead, her chest constricts, and she only feels more confined than before. She reminds herself to keep breathing, to take deep deep breaths and work through this, as she had plenty of times before. But, she is hyperaware of how totally alone she now is.

It's not what she really wants. It was never what she really needed.

~.~.~.~.~

A few nights later, when the moon is full and high in the sky, Hyemi finds a way to slip out the front of the palace.

Seulgi had stared at her, uncharacteristically disapproving, as she handed Hyemi a set of men’s clothes with a shake of her head. Hyemi ignored it (and Seulgi’s poor explanation of how she managed to get her hands on these clothes) in lieu of better things, namely a taste of freedom.

Maybe, she should have taken up Seulgi’s offer (plead, really) in her joining Hyemi, but Hyemi refused an , perhaps stupidly, and now here she is, wandering the streets of the capital in the middle of the night. In retrospect, it may have been a better idea to sneak away during the day so she’d have things to see, but there are still plenty of people walking about near the bridge, some of whom are lighting paper lanterns by the river. She watches them, in awe, committing the sight to memory so she can immortalize it in a painting. With each step away from the palace, she feels significantly lighter.

Despite her happiness, time passes much too quickly, until all who is left on the streets are a few exhausted men heading home, blinking away sleep and some drunken noblemen swaying as they saunter toward the gisaeng houses near the marketplace. They don’t spare her a glance, not dressed so discreetly as a man, and the sense of relief has her tense shoulders relaxing immediately.

She does not want to head back and it is a strange feeling, wanting to run from all that she has ever known with nothing but the clothes on her back and the little bit of money folded away in her pockets. It is even stranger when a bigger part of her doesn’t want to run, because the insecurity in it all is so utterly foreign that it makes the anxious knot in her chest worsen. It is a strange feeling, but it is familiar in the way it makes her feel so trapped, caged in like a little bird with its wings clipped.

She pauses, because maybe she shou—

For a moment she can’t see and all that she can feel is a tight grip on her wrists. Before she can react, before she can kick out until she hits something vital, or even attempt to yank herself out of the grip, the hands on her wrists are gone and she stumbles back, nearly tripping over her own two feet in the process and she blinks rapidly, trying to catch her bearings.

It may be dark out, but the moon shines brightly enough for her to instantly recognize the man in front of her.

She frowns.

He crosses his arms over his chest, tone just as disapproving as Seulgi’s had been earlier.

She rolls her eyes, “I was just heading back.”

Kai says, tone annoyed, more than anything, “The Prince went to your chambers to look for you.” He pauses, allowing his words to sink in. She wonders why in the world Baekhyun would decide to visit her chambers now, of all nights, when he had been avoiding her chambers since the first night. Her heartrate picks up, even as Kai continues, “Imagine his surprise when he found you weren’t there. Luckily for you, his Eunuch suggested he ask your father of your whereabouts and your father had to cover for you. He sent me and Xiu out to find you.” He pouts and it’s almost funny, if the situation were any different, “I was sleeping.”

His short, clipped sentences and messy hair sticking up in every direction makes more sense at the last admission, but her heart still drops at his words. If the King found out, she isn’t sure what would happen, just that leaving the castle without an would be grounds for the worst type of assumptions and the King’s wrath. Baekhyun certainly wouldn’t do a thing to stop it. But, her father—Hyemi finds that her hands are trembling a little bit too hard, and that earlier feeling of wanting to run and stop feeling like the world is closing in on her is back two-fold.

She tries to keep a straight face, but it’s hard. It’s getting harder.

“I—” She blinks at him, “Sorry.”

Surprise flickers through his expression at her apology. The pout softens and the irritation in his eyes becomes almost fleeting as he looks her over. “Save your apologies for your father. You’ll need it.”

She nods, quickly, and he turns. She stares at his retreating back for a moment, hands still trembling, before she follows.

He leads her to her father’s home, rather than to the palace, and the closer they get, the more nervous she is.

Kai slides open the door to her father’s study, stepping in first, bowing deeply to her father, head remaining angled respectfully downwards. He doesn’t leave, not until her father tells him to leave.

Her father is furious, his face red and his eyes filled with the level of fury that’s never been directed at her. Each of his footsteps are pointed, echoing throughout the quiet room. She is hyperaware of Kai’s presence.

Her father raises his hand and she stares at the hand in question with morbid fascination. Her father has never hit her before. Despite everything, he doesn’t lay a hand on her. He just says things and sometimes—his hand rushes to her face and she squeezes her eyes shut, more out of reflex than anything else—

“You stupid, useless girl.” He bites out. He doesn’t hit her, but he grips her jaw so tightly, she wonders if he wishes to break it and render her completely silent at long last. “Where did you get all your stupidity from? It certainly was not from me nor your mother.”

His voice gets louder with each word, until he is yelling, and she flinches at the volume of his voice, her heart beating against her ribs and her hands shaking. He digs his fingertips into her skin, briefly, before he shoves her back, dropping his hand. She grips her jaw, trying to soothe it, her father’s words lodging themselves under her skin.

Her father drags a hand down his face, anger emanating from him in a heavy cloud that only makes her heartbeat quicken. “Take her out of my sight before I do something I will regret.”

Kai moves then and she remembers his presence, following him without hesitating.

“Hyemi.” She turns at her father’s words, her limbs moving mechanically, “If I must have your palace surrounded by guards to keep you in check, I will. Disappoint me once more and not even the Gods will help you.”

The threat is—it’s jarring. She doesn’t say anything, just skitters out the room, following behind Kai without saying a thing, until Kai rounds the corner to her childhood room and the moment she sees the familiar wallpaper covering her door, her knees buckle ever-so-slightly, her breathing heavier. Kai turns, and she cannot keep up the façade. She starts to cry.

She stares at the ground, sees his feet shuffle forward, though he doesn’t say anything. She sees the hesitance and she blindly reaches for her door and slides it open, sliding it shut behind her, in his face, immediately after, crying so hard, it gets difficult to breathe. It’s always so difficult for her to breathe. She slides to her knees, hands still pressed to her door, pressing it shut as if someone will try to open it. Of course, no one will try to open it. Somehow, that has her crying harder, so hard that her chest hurts so badly, and she tries to breathe through her tears.

She tries to breathe, but it doesn’t work. It only gets harder, which only makes her cry harder because she feels as if the sky is collapsing in on her, all the heavy, broken pieces settling at the center of her chest, weighing her down.

“Hyemi.” The voice is quiet, very very quiet, but everything else is so very quiet too.

Her blood is rushing to her ears and she clutches her chest, curling up at the pain.

There’s a tapping now, right against her door. It’s a steady beat, a steady knock, knock, knock, continuous, loud, piercing through her tiny childhood room.

“Do you hear that?”

She nods, even though the voice—maybe it is her mother, acting as a guardian spirit of sorts—probably cannot see her. She can’t speak. It’s hard to speak and breathe and see and the pinching in her chest, right where her lungs should be, is horrifyingly painful.

“Breathe to that rhythm. Can you do that?”

She tries. It’s hard. But the knocks keep going on and on and on and she finds the steady repetition distracting enough, soothing enough. She gulps in air and she exhales raggedly.

“That’s it. Keep going. Just breathe.”

It takes a minute, to catch her breath, to stop the spotting in her vision, but the sharp pain becomes this dull, throbbing, leftover pain and she keeps on breathing to the steady knocking echoing through her room.

“Can I—Can I open the door, just a little?”

She shakes her head, murmurs a raspy, “N—no.”

It’s not her mother’s spirit, it’s Kai, and she knows she should be embarrassed, but she doesn’t have the energy to feel that way. Still, she has enough presence of mind to deny him the chance to see her like this. It’s—it’s not an image she’s ever wanted anyone to see of her.

“Okay.” He says, quite simply. She curls up on the floor, ignoring how cold it is, and she just tries to grasp her bearings. She expects him to leave, but then his soft voice drifts through her hazy thoughts, muffled by the door, “I’ll be right here.”

She wants to tell him to go away, but a big, starved part of her knows that is not what she really wants. She wipes at the tears running down her cheeks and the side of her face, her hair damp from the way it drips down the side of her face, and she blinks, astonished, at the way Kai slides down and sits with his back against her screen door. The soft shh of his back sliding against the door is a loud juxtaposition to her soft sniffling and deep, ragged breaths. His shadow is prominent against the rice paper, a shadow at the precipice of her consciousness that should make her anxious. But, right now, it is comforting. If she had the energy to be confused, she would be.

After a long, long moment, she cannot stand the silence growing between them. In silence, her anxious, biting thoughts, her father’s words, grow into this giant ugly monster and she hates it. She opens , searching for words, grasping aimlessly for something, when Kai’s low voice surprises her as he says, “I used to do this for my sister.”

A feeling akin to gratefulness blooms deep in her chest. She welcomes the change in subject, the distraction, with too much enthusiasm. Her voice sounds so raspy, so exhausted, as she murmurs, “You have a sister?”

She can almost hear the smile in Kai’s voice as he says, “Yes, she’s older than me.”

She wants to ask where she is, what her name is, but Hyemi knows that Kai has been with her father, her family, since the day he pressed that sword up against her neck and threatened her life. Still, she murmurs, “Do you see her often?”

Kai is silent for a long time.

Hyemi sits up a little, her chest still twinging in pain, though it is much more bearable now. She pulls her knees to her chest, peering at Kai’s shadowed form resting back on her door, and she wipes at the remaining tears on her face with the heels of her hands, sniffling softly. She watches the shadow of Kai’s head turn the side slightly and she hears him sigh.

“I do not.” He finally says.

There is something so very closed off about the way he says that. She knows, right then, that she should not pry.

So, she murmurs, “I am sorry about that.”

Kai’s snort echoes all around them. “You don’t need to be sorry about anything.”

There’s something strangely bitter in his tone, the undercurrent cutting, though masked well. The only reason why she picks it up is because she’s always been in tune with the emotions running through people’s voices. It’s how she gauges how to act around her father, around the court, around Baekhyun. It’s how she gauges the people around her and remains cautious.

“Still,” She says, shrugging as she rests her chin on her hands, curling up so small she can almost forget the lingering tight feeling in her chest. “You were willing to…challenge my father for your family. You must miss them.”

It’s the first time, she knows, she’s ever talked about that day. Her father had explicitly told her to forget it ever happened. She had never found the courage to bring it up with Kai, until it became a distant memory she’s always been afraid to dredge up. It’s always lingered there, in the back of her mind, because she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the passive look in her father’s eyes or the feeling of a sword pressed to her neck, her vulnerability.

Kai’s shadow stiffens. She sees the way he sits up straight, the way his head falls back against the rice paper screen, his shadow darkening there.

This time, she watches him sit in silence through the thin door. After a long, long moment, he says, voice low, melodic and soft, careful, “I do miss them.”

She just presses her knees closer to her chest, blinking at him. He doesn’t say another word, but he sits there. He remains there and his presence alone is strangely calming, perhaps because, for once, she is not alone. Still, she doesn’t say anything either.

She wakes up the next morning to Seulgi shaking her gently, eyes filled with concern as she kneels over her. Hyemi’s back is sore from the way she was curled on the hard wood floor, her toes cold and her neck stiff. Yet, she wakes to her blankets thrown over her, despite her position curled up into a tight ball right next to the door, far away from her bed. She doesn’t remember ever getting up.

Seulgi frowns down at her, “Hyemi, are you okay?”

Hyemi blinks at her surroundings, frowning in confusion at the blanket wrapped around her. “Yeah.” She murmurs, distractedly, “I’m fine.”

Seulgi raises a brow, but she doesn’t question Hyemi any further. Hyemi is grateful for that.

“Your father sent for me to bring you back to the palace.” Seulgi explains, when Hyemi realizes exactly where she is and that Seulgi technically shouldn’t be here. Hyemi nods. Seulgi helps her to her feet.

~.~.~.~.~

Baekhyun stares at her from where he is seated, the birds chirping all around them, the breeze soft. The open-air pavilion could be such a serene, gentle place—she imagines painting here would be delightful, but it’s Baekhyun’s choice spot to conduct his readings and studies. She hates that it is associated with such uncomfortable memories when it is such a beautiful part of the palace.

“You are supposed to inform me when you leave the palace.” Baekhyun says, very simply.

She knows that Baekhyun leaves the palace plenty of times; Seungwan and Seulgi sometimes mention the rumors of his disappearances to her. She thinks it’s unfair that he does not have to inform her of those times. She mutters, “I just wanted to see my father.”

“For what?” There is suspicion in his tone and his eyes narrow, his shoulders stiffening.

(She wonders what her father had done to him to warrant such a reaction out of him. Hyemi can only imagine.)

Hyemi doesn’t like the demanding tone, the irritation he always directs at her for no reason, at least none of her own doing. Hyemi looks Baekhyun right in the eye and says, “He is my father. I simply missed him.”

The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, but the way Baekhyun’s eyes grow stormy, even more annoyed, and slightly taken aback by her boldness, overtakes the bitterness. Pettiness, she finds, is sweet.

Eunuch Kim coughs, loudly, a little obnoxiously, from the stairs, and Baekhyun turns his scowl on the eunuch. Then, Baekhyun sighs and mutters, hesitantly, obviously forced, “Well, there have been dangerous groups roaming outside these palace walls. It’d be in your best interests to remain within these walls, where you will be safe.”

She raises a brow at him, “I am honored that your highness cares so much about my safety. The Heavens have truly blessed me today.”

Baekhyun glares at her tone.

She rolls her eyes. His glare worsens. Eunuch Kim coughs and Baekhyun gets to his feet. She takes her time getting to her feet, as well, purposefully insolent, relishing in the growing scowl on his face. He expects her to scramble to her feet and she’ll be damned if she ever does that. She bows to him as he takes his leave without another word to her, his court hurrying behind him as he leaves. Eunuch Kim throws her an exasperated look and she just smiles back, as pleasantly as she can.

Kai and Seulgi are at her side the moment Baekhyun steps off the pavilion. Hyemi mutters, annoyed, despite the smile plastered across her face, “Why does he not follow his own advice and stay in the palace, too? Stupid, annoying—”

She cuts herself off and Seulgi lets out a soft snort.

But, Kai says, very softly, almost inaudibly, “He’s right, though. There are dangerous people outside these walls, especially now. You shouldn’t leave without protection.”

Seulgi frowns, nodding slightly, the amusement in her eyes fading slightly, a distant look in her eyes. Hyemi glances sideways at Kai, still smiling for the pretense, for the ladies in her court who are not loyal to her and report back to people who only wish ill on her, and she says, through her teeth, “That is exactly what Minseok would say if he were here.”

(She can’t quite look Kai in the eye—she’s embarrassed about him witnessing her breakdown—but he doesn’t act any differently with her and it’s comforting.)

Kai smiles, the corners of his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly. “He would also tell you to stop aggravating the future king.”

“It’s amusing, though.”

“Clearly, you have a death wish, then.”

She begins to walk, her court ladies waiting until she passes before following her. Seungwan glances at Seulgi when she passes by, cheeks reddening and her eyes darting to the floor. The tips of Seulgi’s ears turn red despite her gaze never quite falling in Seungwan’s direction, remaining fixed ahead, as if she can sense Seungwan’s presence. Hyemi finds it adorable, but she decides not to say anything about it. Instead, Hyemi speaks to Kai, murmur inaudible to everyone but Kai and Seulgi, “Baekhyun won’t kill me. Not as long as his father lives.”

She shrugs her shoulders, nonchalant despite the truth to her words. Kai doesn’t dispute her words. They both know she’s right. She knows that, for whatever reason, her father influenced the King to pick her as the Crown Prince’s wife. As long as the King lives, Baekhyun will not defy him. She isn’t sure what their relationship is like, because the Crown Prince barely speaks to the King and clearly hates the Queen, but he does not defy his father as she thinks she would if she were in his shoes and held all that power.

Maybe Hyemi really is her father’s daughter, because she intends on taking full advantage of the immunity her father’s influence on Baekhyun’s father grants her. If Baekhyun wishes to be uncivil with her, then Hyemi will push every single one of his buttons as far as she can go without regret. She was willing to work things out with Baekhyun, but he hates her because of her father, and she refuses to allow him to talk down to her the way every single other person has.

(She knows that she truly has no real power, just the ability to be a nuisance to a certain extent, but it is better than letting Baekhyun speak to her however he pleases. She will not take his anger lying down, especially when it is not her fault to begin with.)

“What about after? When he is King and his father’s orders no longer matter?” Kai whispers.

Hyemi blinks up at the high palace walls, at the cherry blossom tree near the pond, far enough away from the walls so no one can use it to climb in or out of the palace.

She is supposed to give him a child by that point, a son specifically who will be the reason why she will live, because a first-born son is the heir to the throne and the heir’s mother should be untouchable. She does not say any of this.

She just shrugs.

~.~.~.~.~

Her father tosses a bag of herbs on her desk. She stares at them, apprehensive.

He says, “Surely you know what these are for.”

She does.

She pretends she doesn’t as she shakes her head.

Her father glares at her with a certain intensity she has never seen before. Lately, her father has been more upset than usual, and it puts her on edge. Her jaw still tingles with the slight pain of his fingers digging in. “I convinced Prince Baekhyun to see you that night and then you destroyed my plans for—heavens know what exactly you did it for. Now, I must find a way to convince him to see you once again. These are for fertility. You have a duty to fulfil, Hyemi.”

She eyes the herbs gingerly. Usually, she wouldn’t say anything, not when her father is so angry, but this time, she snaps back, unable to stop her words, “How am I supposed to get the Prince to sleep with me when he hates me?”

“He has his needs, as every man does. Surely you know how to use that.” Her father looks exasperated.

“He hates me because of you.” Hyemi hisses, crossing her arms over her chest, tossing all pretenses out as she glares up at her father, “He will not touch me because of something you did to him. He will not even look at me. And he is the Crown Prince, father. He can easily get his needs fulfilled elsewhere. This is impossible. You’re being impossible.”

She stares at her father, chest heaving from her rant. Her father stares back, his expression blank, guarded, watchful.

For a moment, the silence drags on and on, and all they do is stare at each other, Hyemi red-faced and heaving while her father remains unsettling in his calmness. The tension in the air is thick, electric, like the silence before a storm. Her father tilts his head to the side, “What do you think will happen to you if you cannot produce an heir?”

She does not expect that type of question. She blinks, faltering.

Her father leans close, eyes fixed on hers, “All my life, I’ve made sure you would never feel the pains I’ve felt. The sharp, gnawing pain of hunger. Digging through the trash in search of food, of something, so you will not feel weak any longer. The ache in your bones from malnourishment. Do you know these pains, Hyemi?”

Hyemi blinks at her father, doesn’t understand what this has to do with anything. She shakes her head, stiff.

Her father’s voice is low, angry, as sharp-edged as a sword. “Your position in this castle depends entirely on the children you will produce. If you do not manage even that, he will take on another wife. Without a child to tie the two of you, do you think he will allow you to remain in this palace?” Hyemi hates the way her stomach churns at those words, at how her entire self-worth is based off the children she is to birth, at how her father’s words worry her, despite how much she hates this palace. Palace walls, luxuries, the life of a noblewoman, it is all she knows. “Death would be a mercy for you then because once I am gone, you will not be able to survive here. Not without a son to protect yourself from him.”

Hyemi hates the way her heart slams against her chest, hates the realities of her father’s words. She hates that she knows all this to be true, that this is her fate.

For once, her father’s expression softens when he looks at her. “There is danger beyond these palace walls. It is best if you bear a son sooner rather than later.”

“What kind of danger?”

Her father shakes his head. She knows not to expect an answer. It’s best if she doesn’t know, that’s what that look means.

Her father just pushes the herbs into her limp hands and gets to his feet. He looks her over, once, before he strides out the room.

The herbs are bitter, the smell lingering on her palms long after she stuffs it into her desk drawers.

~.~.~.~.~

Minseok stands to her side, watching as she tosses pebbles against the surface of the pond. They bounce off the top of the pond’s surface, skipping across and disappearing under the bridge. Some scholars heading to the class—the one conducted by Baekhyun just past the bridge and in that awful pavilion—glance at her, expressions either disapproving, confused, or astonished. She truly does not care. She continues skipping rocks. Minseok is the only one there, since she’s dismissed her entire court and Seulgi had thrown her a concerned look before escorting everyone back to her palace.

She gets progressively more aggressive with each toss of a pebble until Minseok finally speaks up, “What did that poor pond ever do to you?”

Hyemi spares Minseok one of her best contemptuous glares before she turns back to the pond, propelling the pebbles through the water until her precision falters and everything starts to just plop into the water with a loud splash.

Minseok waits patiently, arms crossed over his chest, brow raised. He expects her to burst, she knows this, and she decides she will keep quiet and ignore his presence just to spite him.

However, Minseok is surprisingly good at remaining patient, annoyingly so.

Eventually, Hyemi is exhausted and there are no longer any scholars crossing the bridge to pry a satisfying reaction out of. Hyemi plops down on the grass, ignoring the way the grass will stain her silk robes. She crosses her arms over her chest, her dress puffing up around her.

There is something about Minseok’s presence that brings her comfort and safety. He is always silently guarding her. She notices when he steps between her and a royal officer that is observing her too much. She knows he tells her to stop aggravating Baekhyun because it is the smart and safe thing to do. She’s sure if a threat ever descended on them, he would protect her without fail. She also knows it is required of him by her father. Still, the sentiment is there, and she appreciates it.

“What did my father do to Baekhyun?” Her voice is quiet, barely audible, but Minseok hears her, perhaps because of his training as a skilled assassin.

Minseok blinks down at her. She looks up at him, craning her neck to stare at his face. He looks so young, despite the fact that he must be older—Kai addresses him as an elder brother plenty of times for her to make that connection. Right this moment, though, he looks like any young teenager with too much responsibility on his shoulders. She feels bad for dumping such a question on him, one that he most likely cannot answer, but must feel obligated to answer. Despite the many times he is exasperated with her antics, he is honest with her when it counts. She likes to think he might actually care about her. It’s a nice feeling—foreign, but nice.

“I cannot tell you that.” His voice is low.

She presses her knees closer to her chest, turning away to stare at the pond. “I know.” She sighs, “Sorry for asking.”

There’s a moment of silence before Minseok murmurs, “But, know this: The Prince will never forgive your father. It’s not something that is easily forgiven.”

“Then, what should I do?” She isn’t sure if Minseok knows her circumstances fully. She never told him, but he’s probably figured it out. He’s around enough to figure it out.

Minseok’s voice is as soft as the gentle breeze, “I don’t know. I am sorry.”

She shakes her head, “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s my problem, not yours.”

~.~.~.~.~

“—Phantom King. That’s what they call him.”

“What does that mean for us? For…my father?”

“I am not sure. He is very much revered in the villages, though, and there are already rumors spreading of how your father is a false kin—” Jongdae cuts himself off immediately and she can almost imagine his head snapping up, eyes darting around his surroundings. She is never sure how in the world Kim Jongdae can sense another’s presence the way he does, especially when she is positive she hasn’t made a single noise, hasn’t even taken a breath, really. She barely schools her expression into one of blissful ignorance when both Baekhyun and Jongdae step out of the library, Jongdae narrowing his eyes when he sees her.

She blinks innocently. “Hello.” She bows her head.

Jongdae bows back out of obligation, back stiff. Baekhyun just eyes her for a long moment. She keeps a friendly smile plastered across her face, although all she wants to do is ask about this Phantom King Jongdae mentioned. She knows, from everyone’s cryptic words and the way there are more royal guards roaming the palace than there used to be, that there is something happening beyond these palace walls, something no one deems important enough to trouble her with, though it is important enough to protect her from.

She and Baekhyun barely talk and she barely ever sees him anymore. Yet, somehow, Baekhyun is capable of reading her expressions so easily. He gives her one long look before he says, tone sharp, “What did you hear?”

Hyemi feigns ignorance as she tilts her head, “I am not sure I know what you mean, your highness. I only just arrived here a second ago.”

Baekhyun’s eyes narrow. She notices the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, though there is something different about his expressions these days. He seems more relaxed. She’s sure it has something to do with all the times he’s disappeared from the palace in the dead of night. But, he also seems more exhausted. She knows he oversees half the King’s duties these days, as a way for him to train for the position. She also knows that something dangerous lurks beyond the walls, something that even has her father looking more rundown than usual, his tone sharper and his temper shorter than usual.

Jongdae throws her a look of disbelief. She fixes her polite smile on him, more in spite than anything. For a moment, Baekhyun looks as if he’ll press her for the truth, but Baekhyun just rolls his eyes and brushes past her, his shoulder knocking against hers as he passes by. Despite his slight change in demeanor lately and his absence, his attitude towards her has gotten worse, resentful.

She knows, deep down, that something did not cause this shift in him. It is someone. She knows this, deep down, because she notices his wistful smiles, she isn’t as stupid as everyone would take her for. She notices him leaving the palace almost every night, but she does not intend to dwell on it. She does not intend to recognize just how much she’s failed her father and how bleak her future in this palace will be.

(She knows, however, that everyone else has recognized this already. Some of Baekhyun’s and her court ladies look at her with pity, others with obvious dismissal. The Queen looks at her over her teacup with a smug smile. The King just blinks past her.)

~.~.~.~.~

She watches the servants plant a young cherry blossom sapling right at the edge of the lake, this one’s petals a creamy white rather than the blush pink color of the older one she sometimes paints under. Her entire court stands behind her with their heads bowed, sun beating down on their heads. Seulgi balances an umbrella over her head, the breeze tickling Hyemi’s cheek, lifting a few pink petals from the other tree and carrying it through the wind. It’s truly a beautiful day, Hyemi notices, a disconnected thought that causes her blood to itch, tingling under her skin. As Hyemi stares at the planting of the new cherry blossom tree, she can feel Seulgi staring at her, eyes flickering between the servants planting the tree and Hyemi, back and forth, back and forth. Her court of prying eyes burn holes into her back.

She spots Baekhyun at the pavilion he loves to spend his time in, watching the planting of the tree.

(She hears whispers of a woman akin to the beauty of this very same cherry blossom tree. Baekhyun stares at the tree with a small smile.)

“Your highness.” Seulgi murmurs, finally. Hyemi turns to her, tearing her eyes off the soft white petals drifting off the tree for just a moment. Seulgi looks her in the eye and murmurs, “We will be late to tea with the Crown Prince.”

Hyemi nods, before she begins to walk. Her limbs feel stiff, but her blood thrums, jittery with restless energy.

Kai is quiet, the movement of his mouth so tiny, she barely notices it. He murmurs, “You must be itching to pick up a sword right about now, huh, Princess?”

There’s amusement coloring his words, but there is also pity. She can sense it. The itch under her skin returns with a reckoning, as if there are a million ants crawling up and down her body. Still, she does not react, nor does she respond.

She does not respond until after her tea session, after the Crown Prince looks her in the eye and says, so easily, “They want us to sleep together to end the drought.”

She murmurs, “Ah. Wonderful.”

He continues, ignoring her, “I refused, and I will keep on refusing.”

The way he looks at her, with disdain, his voice loud enough for both their courts to hear, for any hired ears and eyes to report back to whoever they report to with something worth the risk they are putting themselves in. He does it on purpose.

He smiles so pleasantly as he says, “Please, remind my dear father-in-law of my refusal as well. He is very insistent.”

Hyemi knows spite when she sees it. She’s spiteful enough as it is.

Afterwards, when she’s at Kai’s side, Hyemi murmurs, “I will meet you outside the kitchens. I do not want you to get in trouble for being in my chambers.”

She pauses, briefly, to lock eyes with Kai. His head tilts downwards the slightest bit in acknowledgement. She spins on her heels and heads back to her palace, fingers trembling slightly in both annoyance and dread.

~.~.~.~.~

When she arrives late at night, cloak wrapped around her body and her face, Kai is fiddling with the wooden practice swords. She can just make out his expression in the lantern lights and she notices the way his brows are furrowed together as if he is thinking very intently. He looks up the moment she rounds the corner. The gentle breeze from during the day has morphed into cooler air that makes her keep her cloak on.

“Sound will not carry this far away from the sleeping quarters. We can practice here.” Kai gestures around them, at the open clearing beside the kitchen ovens. She nods and he tosses her a wooden sword. She nearly drops it in her haste to grab it from the air, scrambling before it hits the ground.

Kai snorts at her expression and her scrambling.

And then his expression grows very serious—professional.

He describes a drill and makes her get to work. She likes the familiarity of it. It’s almost comforting and she files that thought away, files away the realization that she has begun to miss her lessons with Kai. She barely even flinches when he unsheathes his sword to use his sword holster.

~.~.~.~.~

“Kai, I—”

“It’s Jongin.”

She snaps her head to the side, the wooden sword going limp in her hands. He’s making her run through drills, leaning against the walls of her chambers as he watches her perform the same mundane drill over and over again. His dark eyes remain focused on her and he maintains eye contact as she tries to hide her falter. His expression is soft, almost vulnerable, she notices. It is nothing of the blank, almost stoic Kai who always critiques her movements with clinical words and gestures. He is different here, somehow, softer, more open.

Kai—no, Jongin, she repeats the name in her head over and over, Jongin, Jongin, Jongin—smiles a little at her, and her heartbeat pounds against her ears, much too loud.

In the silence surrounding them, for just a brief moment, they linger. His eyes linger on her face. Her eyes linger on him, on his broad back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, the small scar under his eye and the way his tongue darts over his lips, wetting them slightly. In silence, they linger.

But then, she breaks the silence, whispers, “Jongin. I like it.”

“Then you may use it as much as you’d like, Princess.” Jongin murmurs, voice smooth, though there is a pleased look engulfing his expression, his eyes darting to the side, his cheeks flushing.

Hyemi reddens at the use of her title, at the tenor of his voice. She manages a small, choked, “I will.”

He smiles, and she lifts her sword and forces herself to focus on the lesson at hand. Kai—Jongin—returns to watching her, calling out instructions occasionally. She can feel his eyes on her. The hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. She is unsure why so she ignores it.

~.~.~.~.~

She hears it again when she is awaiting her father’s permission to enter his chambers and she catches a whisper through the screen before a red robed royal official sweeps his way out of her father’s study, gestures grand. His eyes land on her as he steps out of the study and she notices the way his gaze sweeps over her face, down her form, notices the way there is a moment of surprise, worry, in his eyes before it settles into ease when he realizes who she is. The man barely bows his head to her. He should. That is the respect she should be allotted, yet he does not.

She remembers him and the familiar muffled words.

Phantom King.

Jongdae had murmured the same words to Baekhyun earlier.

She is not a stranger to spite, to looking into things just because she was told to stay away; she never was.

So, she files away the name and decides it is about damn time she figures some things out on her own. After all, the royal astrologer she meets with weekly who tells her of the most auspicious times to conceive an heir had told her that due to Pluto transiting her Mercury, she must dig deep in order to communicate extensively with those around her (translation: Baekhyun). That her communications with others (Baekhyun) will take on a greater depth and sincerity and that it will elevate her relationships (with Baekhyun) out of superficiality. She’s amazed the astrologer manages to pretend everything he says applies to all aspects of her life each week, when they both know everything he says is a thinly veiled inquiry about how she should have slept with Baekhyun already, how it is probably her fault that he hasn’t come to her bed, how she only has a short amount of time before she’s tossed aside.

She mulls over that recurring name: Phantom King.

“Seulgi?”

Seulgi’s fingers pause in Hyemi’s hair, the comb stilling for a moment before she starts to tug it through Hyemi’s hair again. “Hmm?” Seulgi hums.

Her other maids are gone—even Seungwan has retired for the night—and Seulgi, as her head maid, is the only one in the room. Tonight, Kai—Jongin, she reminds herself—is out running an errand for her father. She doesn’t want to think about what it is.

“Can you do me a favor, please?” Seulgi pauses for real, this time.

It takes a moment before Seulgi appears in front of her, placing the ornate comb that had once belonged to her mother on the desk in front of her. Hyemi meets Seulgi’s inquiring gaze with the kind of steadiness she reserves for Baekhyun, Eunuch Kim, or Jongdae. Despite everything, despite how much Hyemi keeps things to herself—because Hyemi doesn’t think it fair to dump her issues on Seulgi when she is obligated to listen—they are still friends. At least, Hyemi likes to think they are friends. When they are alone, Seulgi addresses her as Hyemi and tells her when she is being an idiot. In return, Hyemi teases her about Seungwan and helps Seulgi fold her dresses at the end of the day. Seulgi’s sharp eyes flicker over Hyemi’s serious expression, as if she is trying to gauge what Hyemi will ask of her before Hyemi asks it.

  1. is it?” Seulgi tilts her head, frowning slightly.

Hyemi’s gaze flicks down to her mother’s comb before she glances back up and says, very slowly, very carefully, but with steadfast confidence in her decisions, “I need you to find out more information about this Phantom King everyone has been so bothered about.”

Seulgi visibly startles at Hyemi’s request, obviously not expecting such a request, her eyes widening slightly.

“A Phantom King?” Seulgi repeats, each syllable rolling off her tongue as if it is a new and undiscovered, akin to a foreign language. “That name alone sounds…dangerous.”

Hyemi snorts at Seulgi. “Which is exactly why it’s piqued my interests.”

Seulgi nods, slowly, before she adds, “Are you sure you really want to know more about this?”

Hyemi doesn’t mention how she had laid in bed, wide awake, after a sword lesson, and consciously made the decision to know more, see more, take a step out of the dark, off the paved path her father so adamantly wanted to keep her on. She nods, almost too eagerly.

Seulgi takes a moment to look at her, really look, and Hyemi will always wonder what exactly Seulgi had seen there. What exactly had led Seulgi to let out a sigh and nod like that?

“Okay.” She says, “I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you.” Hyemi mumbles, sincere.

Seulgi’s expression softens, “Please don’t thank me.” Then she scrunches her nose, tone playful and pointed. “It’s strange, your highness.”

Hyemi groans, “You calling me that is even stranger.”

“I know. Let’s call it payback for giving me extra work.” Seulgi laughs, shrugging, delighted as Hyemi grimaces at her words.

~.~.~.~.~

An induction ceremony, her father had mentioned in passing, for newly appointed bureaucrats. Officially, the old ones had mysteriously passed away or had gone missing within the span of a month. Unofficially, Hyemi remembers Jongin in the forest, her skin crawling at the memory. The Royal Physician, however, had cited a sickness reportedly befalling traders and merchants returning from overseas. Perhaps that had been the cause of the sudden deaths of these bureaucrats.

Hyemi sees her father’s pleasant smile and downcast eyes, his genuine advice to the king as he hovers at his side. She sees familiar faces among the three newly appointed. She knows enough of the royal court to understand that her father now influences most of it.

So, of course, such a celebration would never warrant such a brazen attack. Not when her father is so influential. Not when the King and Queen are so heavily guarded, and her father hovers close enough to remain within the protective bubble as well.

Yet, it happens.

There is a dancer, with graceful steps and languid movements who flows like a rushing river, quick and fluid, unpredictable. One moment, her eyes are closed, and she spins and spins as the musicians pick out a pretty melody, a soft tale of two lovers who embrace each other in secret. And then the strings become erratic, moving faster and faster, the clacking of her steps a fitful staccato that grabs the attention of everyone attending the dinner. It is breathtaking. It is the . Breaths are held. One could hear a pin drop.

The woman spins and spins and spins, until she stops, just as the music hits its high point, ringing loudly, overwhelming. She stops, her chest heaving, lifts a fan to her face, flicks her wrist, a smile snaking along her lips, and—

Hyemi notices her eyes first, perhaps before anyone else in the room does. Her body moves, her fingers twitching in her lap, where they are twisted together in anxiety because Baekhyun isn’t even bothering to keep up appearances with her and her father is throwing her disappointed looks and—

The woman wants to attack the King and Queen. She sees it there, in her stance, her eyes, her aim, her thin smile. But she has extra weapons tucked under her sleeve and she sees the chance. She takes the chance. She takes Plan B.

The sounds of knives slicing through the air, the sound of music cutting off, the twang of a string breaking and a sandal’s thud as it slams onto the floor, mixes into a moment of very brief silence, a liminal space that is neither here nor there. Hyemi flinches long before the knives swish through the air.

Then chaos ensues. The woman screams, a guard lets loose his arrow, perhaps the order of events are flipped. She isn’t so sure. She is just scared and blood rushes to her head. She looks down and she realizes—

Oh.

The knives missed. By mere centimeters. They are lodged behind her head, against the screen behind her. She glances sideways at Baekhyun, her heart hammering in her chest, reality seeming a bit wild, frenzied, and Jongdae is there, Baekhyun behind him. The knives aimed for him would not have missed.

She looks up and the King and Queen are safe, they have guards, a lot of them, and the knives lie, like lifeless bodies, far, far away from them.

Oh, she thinks.

The three newly appointed bureaucrats are all on their backs. For a moment, she can pretend they are asleep or too drunk. But, just for a moment, because there is blood as red as their robes, as red as her father’s ledger, pooling beneath them, seeping into the floor and staining the wood. There are too many knives for a single woman to release lodged in their lifeless bodies. It seems everyone registers that fact all at once, because suddenly there is shouting, there is get the King out of here and seal off all the exits and find the accomplice.

In these moments, she does not get time to see, to absorb. Baekhyun is already being escorted out. She feels a hand on her back. She looks up and Minseok is blinking down at her, eyes stony and expression stonier. She lets him push her out of the hall and herd her back to her palace.

In a moment where numb is all she feels, she is surprised to find that she is also slightly disappointed because Jongin isn’t there escorting her back either. It’s a strange thing to digest in such a state.

~.~.~.~.~

The dancer is detained, tortured, and then killed on orders by both the King and his Vice Premier.

Her father rages during the interrogation. She only knows this because of what Seungwan relays back to her later.

Her father is angry because of the lost bureaucrats, of his delayed majority control of the royal court, not because she was targeted. She knows this because she knows her father. He does not ask if she is okay.

Following her father’s example, she, in turn, does not ask Baekhyun if he is okay.

It does not matter since Baekhyun does not bother asking her either.

Her astrologist must have read the transits wrong. Clearly, communication was not written in her stars.

~.~.~.~.~

The Queen sips her tea and tilts her head as she speaks to Hyemi, tone sharp, full of mischief. She murmurs, “How is the Crown Prince?”

She looks her in the eye, resentment barely hidden, and Hyemi knows of her own son, of Baekhyun’s half-brother, too young really for any of these politics, though intrinsically involved, nevertheless, knows of him though she has never seen him, aside from a brief moment on the day of her wedding. The Queen enjoys the lack of an heir from Hyemi. She relishes in it because this means she has more time to oust Baekhyun from the throne and put her son there. A Queen can only survive through her sons or her husband. And, clearly, the King has been too weighed down by the duties of ruling a country in turmoil, halfway to ruins, especially now after such a blatant assassination attempt, so the Queen has latched onto her son. Hyemi almost feels pity for her.

(Hyemi, briefly, wonders if this is to be her fate, one day, somehow, someway.)

“He is doing well.”

The Queen raises her brow, in disbelief. It bothers Hyemi. And, then, the Queen murmurs, “I thought he had left the palace to clear his head. The assassination attempt has left him anxious. That’s what his father told me.”

Hyemi tries to hide the surprise in her eyes but it’s too late. She regrets it immediately. She’s allowed a moment of vulnerability to the one woman she should never had shown it to.

“Oh.” The Queen sips at her tea, tilting her head, tone high-pitched, smile stretching slowly across her face, “You did not know, did you?”

Hyemi does not respond.

The Queen laughs, airy and soft and not at all genuine. “Of course, it was a very traumatic experience. I am sure he had left in a hurry. Baekhyun’s always been such a cold boy.”

Hyemi knows that isn’t true. She’s seen him laugh brightly with Jongdae or playfully nudge Eunuch Kim, from afar. She’s heard his boisterous laughter as he conducted his lessons on the pavilion while she strolled alongside the lake or painted. She’s heard of how the servants adore him, how bright and kind he is, how the court ladies coo over his interactions with his younger half-brother, how he is described as the sun by the royal astrologer. She is aware. The Queen probably knows she’s aware. Or, maybe, she and the Queen are on the same boat, in terms of Baekhyun’s lack of affections. She’s noticed how clipped his responses are whenever the Queen attempts to engage him in conversation. Somehow, that bothers her more, being treated the same way as the Queen, the same way as a woman who seems intent on dragging her down, despite the fact that Hyemi has never done a thing to her.

Hyemi hates the snake-like grin gracing the Queen’s beautiful features. Maybe, she starts to hate Baekhyun, too, for being the reason for having to endure such a smug smile.

(Maybe, she really hates Baekhyun?)

~.~.~.~.~

Rumors grow rampant of how the Prince does not have any love for her, how there must be something wrong with her because she is not yet pregnant, how the drought befalling the kingdom is her fault, since she is clearly not good enough for their precious Sun Prince. Not beautiful enough, not desirable enough, not trying enough, not enough.

Her father is angry, his face red, as he paces her chamber floors.

She can see Jongin and Minseok’s broad backs pressed against the rice wallpaper doors—ever since the attack she’s had two guards stationed outside her bedroom doors. It had made her sword lessons easier to participate in. Minseok would give Jongin a look, all furrowed brows and a subtle twist to his mouth, before he’d tell them to stay quiet and be careful before he situated himself outside the chambers. On the days Kyungsoo would be there, they’d call off their lessons. Jongin had mentioned, offhandedly, that Kyungsoo wouldn’t care, but she knows that that means he also wouldn’t care about answering to her father truthfully if he ever asked. She does not want to take that risk, not when she genuinely does enjoy both Minseok and Jongin’s companies and does not want that jeopardized.

It’s interesting to see how unrestrained her father is around Minseok, Jongin, and Kyungsoo. Sometimes, she wonders if it’s trust, but her father isn’t one to trust that way. No, it is not trust that drives him to act so uninhibited around them. It is power. Her father does not see them as a threat. Whatever he has over them will keep them quiet, keep them on his side, serving beside him, killing royal court members and Heavens knows who else for her father’s benefit.

(Maybe, a small voice whispers at the back of her head, one day he will have one of them kill you. Before Baekhyun can toss you aside for another and you become useless.)

“You’ve forced me to take action, you know that? To dirty my hands because you’re incompetent.” Her father hisses, tone low, dangerous, shaking with the force of his anger.

Despite all his faults, her father has never, not once, raised a hand on her. Perhaps he’s gripped her so tightly he had left bruises or spoken harshly to her, enough to make her fall into a fit of panic or cry, but he’s never hit her. She’s never seen him hit anyone, really.

(He very much prefers others to do the dirty work for him. He’s much too dignified to dirty his own hands with violent acts.)

“Did I not tell you to stop disappointing me?” Her father steps closer, so close she can feel the unbridled rage rolling off him in waves. She stares at him, cautious of his next move, body as tense as rabbit staring a wolf head on. Slowly, she nods, dropping her eyes to the floor in apology.

She takes a deep breath, manages to murmur, “I am sorry, fath—”

Her face stings, her neck snapping just enough for her gaze to land directly on the shadowed lumps guarding her doorway. Their shadows get slightly smaller, as if they’ve stepped away from the door. The slap isn’t strong, per se, but it hurts and her ears ring with the impact, reactive tears filling her eyes as she turns to blink at her father. Her fingers crawl up the side of her neck, cupping her hot cheek She blinks, unreactive, more stunned than anything.

Her father’s eyes are dark, angry, immensely furious. “Stop ordering your maids to investigate matters that do not pertain to you and pay attention.” Her father reaches up and grips her face, leaning in to look her right in the eye, “Do as I say. I will not tolerate disappointment again. Do you understand?”

She nods, as best as she can when her father’s grip on her face does not subside.

Her father does not relent, and it takes too long for her brain to recognize that he wants a verbal response. She murmurs, voice cracking slightly, despite her best efforts to maintain some semblance of dignity, “Yes, Father.”

Her father nods before letting her go. His eyes soften, for just a moment, and she looks on in slight confusion, the anxiety in her chest intensifying at the sudden change in expression. Her father sighs, then, and reaches out. She flinches. He ignores it and pats her stinging cheek, touch feather-light. “I will send Lady Kang in with a cold herb compress, just—” He sighs again, “Stop being such a stupid girl. You are my daughter. You were never meant to be anything but the best and I am here to make sure of it. I do not want to be harsh with you, but this is important.”

It’s strange, the slightest bit of affection lingering there, in his eyes, in his tone. She does not know what to do with it. He steps around her and opens the door a tiny bit so he can slip out, his footsteps fading away quickly.

She stands there, frozen to her spot, for much too long, her hand still pressed to her hot cheek. It doesn’t sting as badly anymore but it still hurts.

The door opens again, the sound grating on her ears. She looks up and Seulgi stands, frozen, basket of herbs and clean rags gathered in her hands, too many things piled up in her basket as if she wasn’t sure what to bring. She stands at the threshold of her chambers for a moment too long. Long enough for her to see Jongin there, as well. She focuses on too many details, at first. Jongin holding the door open for Seulgi. His gaze pinned on Hyemi. The way his fingers grip so tightly around the side of the door, his knuckles are white, noticeable even in her lantern lit chambers, even with one of her eyes closed because her hand is still pressed to the side of her face. Minseok’s fingers gripping Jongin’s sleeve, the grip placating, though seemingly vice-like. Minseok’s look of anger—that’s strange, to see anger that is obviously not directed to her, that is for her. Jongin’s expression. His teeth digging into his full bottom lip, his brows pushed together, his eyes ablaze with a sort of anger that isn’t angry, necessarily, but rather it is bitter, all-encompassing, it is the kind of look one would associate with a man willing to burn down an entire palace in the name of anger. He looks almost…vengeful.

She blinks and suddenly the look is gone, replaced by pure, unreadable coolness that throws her for a loop, much the same way the sudden bout of affection in her father’s demeanor had. She isn’t quite sure what she wants to do with that comparison, but it does not sit well with her. His jaw ticks, his lips pressed into a thin line, and then Seulgi steps into the room and the door slides shut behind her with a sort of finality that jolts Hyemi out of her thoughts, out of her shock, her stupor.

She locks eyes with Seulgi, whose entire expression crumbles in the safety of her chambers.

“I…I brought all these things because…I didn’t know what you needed, and your father asked for me but then Jongin and Minseok, they—are you okay, Hyemi?”

Seulgi searches Hyemi’s face with so much care, Hyemi is floored for a moment. She has no idea how to react to someone asking her about her feelings, if she is okay.

She starts to nod, tries to smile, but her cheek still stings, her left ear still rings, and then she mumbles, “No.” Hyemi shakes her head, the movement rapid, “No.” Her voice cracks on the word.

Seulgi drops the basket, pulling her into a hug. She doesn’t ask permission, she doesn’t hesitate, and Hyemi thinks this is a first. Today is a day of firsts. Hyemi doesn’t cry. She just clings to Seulgi, relishes in the touch because—she doesn’t remember the last time someone touched her like this, held her so close with so much care. She sits there, clinging to Seulgi, and Seulgi gently rubs her back, up and down. Hyemi doesn’t know how long she remains in Seulgi’s arms. Seulgi doesn’t complain, not once, her grip around her only tightening.

~.~.~.~.~

Hyemi and Baekhyun both stare at Eunuch Kim. He’s heaving for air, sweaty from running all the way here from heavens knows where. Hyemi has half a mind to return to her book, but the library is filled with the sound of Eunuch Kim’s heavy breathing as he tries to catch his breath. Jongdae is side-eyeing the man in amusement. Minseok stands beside Jongdae, though neither of them seem to look at nor acknowledge each other’s presence, and he stares at Eunuch Kim with too much disinterest.

Both her and Baekhyun’s court are waiting outside the library, heads bowed. Hyemi had wanted to dismiss them but apparently that’s not proper protocol and Eunuch Kim always gives her disparaging, disappointed looks whenever she does it. She’s too exhausted to deal with them today. Baekhyun had made a remark about her appearance, something that would have usually had her snapping back at him in a heartbeat, but she had barely reacted, shrugging instead as she flipped open a book. Her apathy only seemed to make Baekhyun frown in annoyance.

“The Queen.” Eunuch Kim gasps for air, gesturing wildly. “She—arrested—charged—”

“Can you please spit it out already?” Baekhyun snaps, his chin resting on his fingertips as he eyes Eunuch Kim in boredom. He lost interest the moment Queen left Eunuch Kim’s mouth, an observation that rouses a bit of curiosity in Hyemi. His animosity towards the Queen always interests her.

“The Queen has been charged with your assassination attempt. It was her.” Eunuch Kim announces, throwing his hands in the air.

There is a collective gasp, heard even from beyond the library, where both their court ladies are awaiting them. Jongdae’s eyes widen. Minseok just stares on, too quiet she notices. Baekhyun jumps from his seat, his chair toppling over.

“What?” He narrows his eyes, “That doesn’t make any sense. She’s a nuisance, but she’s not resourceful enough to organize an assassination like that.”

“There is evidence. The Vice Premier will be holding a trial very shortly.” Eunuch Kim informs Baekhyun.

Both Baekhyun and Jongdae glance at her, Baekhyun’s expression scrunched. She can see the wheels in his head turning as he tries to think through everything, possibly figure out a way to blame her for this too.

Hyemi can feel the shock on her face. Did the Queen really do it? Or was this what her father had lamented about when he mentioned having to get his hands dirty for her?

Baekhyun is already stepping out the room. Hyemi follows him, after a moment, Minseok by her side. She glances at him. He is frowning.

~.~.~.~.~

“We tracked the assassin to her hometown. There has been an influx of tax evasion occurring in this village. We have these papers, signed contracts with the Queen’s brother’s stamp and evidence of her family’s money being funneled into this specific assassin’s household. She can argue that it was not her, but her family were the ones who exacted such a heinous plot on his highness and there have been witnesses, her very own court ladies, who can vouch that she has met with her brother in private multiple times leading up to the assassination attempt. The weapon the dancer used also consists of a special wood that can only be found in the forest surrounding her hometown. It is one of her town’s main exports for the kingdom, my King. There is more evidence and they are all, unfortunately, very damning. I apologize for this. I do not wish to do this to you, your majesty. It pains me so very much.”

The Eunuch-in-training holds piles of papers that she figures is the evidence. Everyone stares at him, or rather the pile in his hands, and he shuffles from foot-to-foot nervously. The King sits on his throne, eyes wild, too wild, and he is shaking his head rapidly, clearly distraught.

Her father bows his head, tone quiet, though it rings throughout the court, since every single member of the royal court is holding their breaths, waiting for the King’s verdict, his reaction, maybe even his meltdown. She certainly thinks he’s close to one. “I thought it important that you are made aware of her actions and her betrayal, however, I know that you love her, your majesty, and if you command it, I shall order her released. I will make sure this is never spoken of again.”

Her father is so sincere. Baekhyun’s mouth twists further with each sentence that comes out her father’s mouth..

The King shakes his head, eyes wide, mouth twisting, “No, no, no. No, she has betrayed me. I cannot trust her.” There are a million emotions that flicker through the King’s expression, until he settles on one that is ferociously wild, almost broken. For a moment, she feels pity, wonders what has brought him to this point. He states, voice ringing, “How dare she? Let her and her conniving family face the fury of the Gods. Let them rot.”

He waves a hand and a few men, ones who had begun to protest, the Queen’s family, are dragged out so easily by the royal guards, like they are no heavier than a couple sacks of rice.

“Let anyone who betrays me and my trust rot.”

His voice rings and rings all around them, burrowing into the minds of every single man there. She can sense the tension in the throne room, pulled so taut, anything could tear it. Her father keeps his eyes downcast, nodding, chanting with reverence until the others join, “Yes, your majesty.”

The King nods, as if he is ahead. Yet, her father is five steps ahead of him and he does not even know. Hyemi pities the King, nearly pities the Queen as well.

~.~.~.~.~

The King is cracking under pressure. Hyemi isn’t entirely sure of what, especially not if it has anything to do with what happens beyond the walls. But whatever it is, it’s making him worse. The assassination attempt, the Queen’s betrayal and subsequent jailing, the people’s anger at him because of the drought and lack of proper resources to live, they all stack up against him, stack upon his shoulders until he is bent and bowed, broken.

Baekhyun scowls at her like it is her fault. His scowl deepens when he looks at her father, standing silently by the King’s side. She knows that, in a roundabout sort of way, it very well might be her fault.

Jongin postpones her sword lessons. Still, he asks her, on the days she sits by the rushing stream and paints or when she takes walks or after she meets with Baekhyun, “Have you been practicing on your own?”

Hyemi thinks back on the wooden sword she keeps hidden behind her books. She nods, but she wonders, as she always does, why he is so adamant on her sword lessons.


a/n: omg I'm so sorry, I totally forgot about this fic TT. Here's a long update! If you're still here please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you!!!

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fs1919
[IN SILENCE] 3/24: Hey guys!!! This fic's plot got really, really complicated and it's running long, so I've decided to make it an ongoing chaptered fic instead of a short one or twoshot! The first chapter will be out soon! Thanks!!!!!!!!

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scarlettbaek
#1
Chapter 3: rereading this after years and omg my pillow is soaked rn the angst is toooo good
Chocoseunie
#2
Chapter 3: It's me again 😿 reading this for nth time the plot is good so much is happening that i forgot it was 3 chapters
Chocoseunie
#3
PLEASE COME BACK IM BEGGING
gdlovesme
#4
Chapter 3: Hngggg this too i s amazing!
vampwrrr
#5
Chapter 3: Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh! This is such an amazing work. You've been twisting my heartstrings since I started it last night. I'm utterly depressed. I feel as caught and trapped as Hyemi, and I'm so frustrated by all of the pretense, and intrigue. You are a weaver of emotions, and you're hurting me, but I keep coming back for more.
vampwrrr
#6
Chapter 2: This is so good. The emotions are intensely poignant, and I want to take Baekhyun by the shoulders and shake him. Stop unnecessarily hurting our Hyemi!
vampwrrr
#7
Chapter 1: I really need to watch 100 Days My Prince. Anyway, I love this, so far. The way that you write hyemi's emotions just reaches in the chest to touch an empathetic chord.
blodynyx
#8
Chapter 2: I feel like I'm watching a spin-off of 100 Days My Prince: Crown Princess' POV. This is so good since I kind of hate Crown Princess and now I feel bad for her haha

I don't know since when Jongin has feelings for Hyemi but GO FOR HER!! LIVE FORBIDDEN LOVE!!! I'M WITH YOU SON!!!
SooMicchi
#9
Chapter 3: Omg I had this fic in my list for MONTH and now I have read all of the chapters like my life depended on this!! It's amazing!!!
I was getting really anxious!! Can't wait for the next update!!
I love your writing style and how you describe her feelings!
HELENAJUNEX #10
Chapter 3: this is so amazing!