The Lady of the Son family, has birthed a fair child, skin milky and hair dark, eyes bright with curiosity even at her tender age. 

The second, youngest, of two daughters; Wendy grows up well, blabbering away, her small feet pitter-pattering along the long halls of the Son mansion. And her father, with certain soft spots for his youngest daughter, leaves her be to explore and to learn - he only hopes that her betrothed will treat her kindly.

He knows, that in the day and age of modernity, promising young Wendy to his best friend’s youngest, will turn some heads, but he is sure his old friend will take to her well, and welcome her in, when the time comes, as his daughter-in-law. This engagement, signed off by both sets of parents, marks the start of a new era - one where both empires will bloom together. 

He sees his wife, sometime later, tucked away in the small corner of their library, Wendy in her lap, as they read away to the afternoon glow, and knows his decision is a right one. 

“Papa!” His diamond has noticed him lurking. 

“My princess,” he greets, and sweeps her off her stubby feet into his arms. The scratchy prickling of his stubble tickles her soft skin, and she laughs, twinkling and bell-like. 

“Papa, that’s ticklish. Off! Off!” 

Not one to deny her anything, he lets her slide off. And playfully tries to grab at her, even as she stumbles back into her mother’s lap. 

“My love,” his wife admonishes, fingers carefully taming the wild hair of her daughter, and straightening the linen of her dress. “You shouldn’t be playing off her whims. She is to be wed as the heir to the Son Empire, not some messy messy child.” 

But he is petulant, childish and cheeky in the way that his wife adores. “Seungwan is engaged, babe, to my best friend’s youngest - whom I heard is a quite load ‘messier’ than she is.” He steps a little closer, bringing his wife’s hand to his cheek, lips against soft skin, and whispers, “besides, she’s three. Their introduction is set for when they’re fifteen, and their marriage at eighteen.” 

His wife tries to pinch at his cheek, and he steps away quickly, laughter rambunctious. “Officially though, we have fifteen years to let Seungwan be the messy child she wants to be, love. Let her be.” 

Seungwan falls asleep against her mother’s bosom, drool trickling. Her nose twitches when the long hair of her mother’s falls out of its bun. 

-

At night, young Wendy sits at the dining table, gently being fed her supper, when she uses the back of her hand to smear crumbs across her face. She’s ten, still a small child, even with all the vitamins and nutrients her mother tries to provide, but sprightly and still as bright as the morning sun. 

“What does it mean, to be wed?” She asks. The question is full of innocence, curious and lifted in the same way she asks why the sky is blue or why the wifi won’t work in the east wing. 

She asks the question, not knowing the implications and yet her eyes show so much more. One glance at her husband, and Lady Son knows she has to be the one to explain. 

“Well, darling,” she nods at one of the attendants to wipe off the crumbs sticking to Wendy’s cheeks. “It means you are to marry someone, the same way your father and I are married. You’ll share your problems and help each other grow.”

“Like the buddy system, at school,” her husband explains. He chuckles at his addition, but drops his smile when his wife shoots him a glare. 

Wendy stays quiet, pondering, her chubby cheeks still filled with bread. Her parents watch her - perhaps if they bring her up well, she will accept the engagement easily, the same way they were wedded.

It’s not a foreign concept, in their circle, to be married first, and then to fall in love next. It’s a contract to ensure the best possible outcome, and for their business empire to remain strong. Even without love, the mutual need for one another will keep their marriage strong. If Wendy is lucky, her betrothed will love her just as much her parents love each other. 

“Who am I to be wedded to?” 

Her mother sighs. “It is tradition to keep your betrothed a secret until the day of the introduction.” 

“When will that be?”

This time her father replies. “When you’re fifteen, my diamond.”

Satisfied, she plucks at her sourdough, cheekily sticking her tongue out when her mother tells her to stop swinging her legs. “I hope my betrothed is pretty,” she mumbles to herself. She doesn't notice her mother sighing at the way she shakes her leg, or the gleeful look in her father's eyes.

-

“Old friend!” He has his laptop balancing precariously on his treadmill as he jogs. Each step shakes at the laptop, and it trembles, on the verge of falling but not quite there yet. 

“How is winter treating you!” The voice is crackly, but the image is clear.

“Good, good,” he puffs. “I FaceTimed you so suddenly, you see, is because my child has begun asking about the engagement.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, yes. And she wants a pretty one.” He winks into the camera, and his friend takes the joke easily; deep chuckles and the image shakes as he laughs into the phone. 

They stop for a moment, and his friend speaks up again. “We’ve been looking at property near your vicinity, and there’s a nice plot of land just west of where you are staying.”

“Oh, that is a good plot of land - the ground is a good foundation for you to built upon.” 

“If you say it so,” his friend agrees readily. "I’ll draw up the paperworks to begin construction. Five years, I’m thinking.”

“Just in time for the introductions!”

“Brilliant! Man, I hope they like each other.”

“I sure hope so too, old friend, I hope so too.”

-

Going to a private school is fun, yet boring. Everyone around her does the same thing over and over, and when school ends, her nanny walks her home and begins prepping her for her many, many, extra-curricular activities. Her father has been busier lately, often times only home after she’s fallen asleep, or away on business trips with her mother. 

And her sister, away at a boarding school, only to return during the holidays. Oh, she misses her sister terribly. Wendy hopes her sister will return in time for her 15th birthday. It is but a month away, and she’s already looking forward to it. Her birthday is the one time, each year, where her whole family is back together again, and when her mother will finally stop fussing about etiquette and manners and how she is 'to be wed as a lady, not as a hooligan.'

-

“Mother!” Wendy skids to a stop by the kitchen doorway, startling their cook - who almost drops his pan of sauce. “I would like to go to the farmer’s market today. They have a travelling library set up.” 

She drapes herself across her mother’s back, who is sat at the kitchen table, peeling sprouts. She turns her head, eyes boring into the side of her mother’s face, and internally screams in excitement when she sees the corner’s of her mother’s lips twitch, before settling into a serene smile. 

“Alright, but you have to be home for dinner, and promise me you won’t skip tomorrow’s etiquette class.” 

“Fine fine,” she grumbles. She plants a wet kiss on her mother’s cheek, and rushes off. 

She hears her mother asking if she needs the driver, and shouts back a negative. 

It’s a good day today, the weather is pleasant, and for once she doesn’t have classes or anyone following her around. 

Happily, she makes her way through the long drive-way leading out of the property, and winds through little pathways, to the farmer’s market situated at the park. 

It’s a bustling affair, children running amok as parents chase after them. There’s a face-painting booth set up in the corner, and she wonders if she’ll be able to wash off the face-paint before dinner comes around. 

The travelling library is magnificent in its own right; heaving bookshelf’s perched on carts, and array of arms-chairs, rugs, beanbags, along the lawn. The owner is a wrinkly old man, scrolling through his ipad with a deep frown on his face. He smiles at Wendy, though, when she greets him with a bow, and leaves her to peruse the many books on display. 

“We’ll be here for three days,” he says, “if you could return the books, or replace them with another book, that’ll be lovely.” 

The books are old, pages yellow, crinkled. But as Wendy settles on a beanbag, index trailing down the hardcover, she knows they are well-loved. 

The sun beats down on her, a nice escape from the chilly wind, but she finds herself falling asleep instead of reading, and decides to pack the books up and wander around the rest of the farmer’s market. 

Maybe she’ll go to the face-painting booth. 

She bumps into someone on the way to the booth; books and paintbrushes falling onto the grass.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the person apologises, bowing quickly and bending to gather the fallen items. “Here, let me help you.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry too - should have seen where I was going,” she laughs awkwardly, flustered. She has never seen the girl around before. Monolids and sun-kissed, Seungwan thinks she’s seen an angel. 

They pick up their items, exchanging what isn’t theirs.

“I’m Seulgi,” the girl says. When she smiles, her eyes smile too. It’s blinding. 

Seulgi sticks out her hand, friendly and unlike anyone Seungwan has ever met, holding her hand after shaking it, and pulling her along with such familiarity. 

“Seungwan,” she replies. She doesn’t know why she didn’t use her English name. 

“So, Seungwan, whatcha doing here?” 

seems a little dry. “I, uhm, wanted to check out the travelling library.” She turns, to see Seulgi looking at her with such concentration, and flushes. 

“I see I see.” Seulgi smiles at her again, and her heart stutters for a split second, before resuming its fast beating. “I just moved here, you see, so I’d wanted to sketch out my surroundings.” 

“I can’t draw to save my life,” she blurts out. A strained chuckle following her voice out of when she realises what she’s said. 

Seulgi brightens completely, tugging on her hand, her sweater somehow fluttering in the wind. “Do you want me to teach you?” 

Seungwan can only nod, dazzled. She usually talks a million words a minute, but in front of the angel, somehow, her brain malfunctions and all she can think about is how talented and pretty Seulgi is. 

“How old are you, Seungwan?” 

“I’m turning fifteen this month,” she says. 

Seulgi’s eyes widen, “holy! Same! When’s your birthday?” 

“The twenty-first.”

“Ha, I’m older than you. Mine’s on the tenth.” 

The easy banter slides into her chest, soothing her palpitating heart and easing her into comfort. “Do you want me to call you unnie, then?” 

She jokes around with Seulgi, laughing and having fun, until the beginnings of a sunset starts, and Seulgi rushes off with her art supplies, leaving behind a charcoal sketch of the travelling library.

Seungwan stumbles home, slightly dazed, and when her mother asks if she’s had fun, over dinner, she simply nods.

That night, as she’s preparing for bed, she decides to stick the sketch up on her wardrobe - and notices words along the edge of the paper, small and messy at the back. 

“See you tmr, Seungwan :)”

The words, although small, pierces through her walls and into her beating heart. For once, Wendy forgets she is already betrothed to another, and dreams about the new friend she has made. 

---

AN ACTUAL WRITING SPREEEEEE sjsjsk maybe being on painkillers helps me write bad stories (also someone do tell me what is seulgi/wendy/joy's ship name. wenjoygi? team rocket? idkidk)