"I despise this new position of yours," she let out, the metal glove clattered against her suit; the fidgeting intensified. The Queen sighed and rolled her eyes. It was a conversation they dread--even though the context on why they should be discussing the topic in the first place remains vague.

"Why is that?" she asked loud and clear. The Queen anticipates the answer, her heart on the edge ready to either fly to its highest peak or fall to its greatest fall.

"Because then you'll need a king." Chaeyoung did not try to hide the bitter tone. Though they did try to keep their voices at a moderate volume. Blonde tresses curtained over her cheek, she adjusted the armor once more; the conversation was beginning to feel like an interrogation. Moments like these make her forget her place--that she was merely a knight serving her Queen. However, Jennie isn’t really someone to draw a line in between herself and the people. Her heart was as kind as it can be, flourished with bravery inherited from her parents. She was fit for royalty, and royals needed a consort. 

"How did you come to that conclusion," the Queen raised. "You hate the co-dependency system of this monarchy. Now, you're concerned about me being married?"

"No, not the status, perhaps..." 

"Then please elaborate, my knight." 

"You're a queen now. It's only given that you need to acquire a king."

"Says whom?" Jennie commanded. She gripped the armchair--frustration seeping out her heiress-like face.

"The people..." the captain drew out. As much as she wanted to face the door until her peripherals no longer see the Queen, she still has the virtue of a true knight--and that is to enter hell in order to escape it. Or in layman's terms, face the Queen and her rage. "The people will ask you to do that. It's bound to happen."

It was a lame excuse. What she truly wanted to say: is that her belief in marriage is unlike the traditions they preserve; she envisioned her and Jennie dressed in the finest silk, with smiles etched on their faces. The front yard of the castle is littered with the townspeople and their closest friends. The refectory table is tidied with dishes they love so much. They will reminisce the memories of their childhood for the sake of sentimentality. Then, when it nears midnight, they will dance a dance that will symbolize their new beginning as a couple.

But how could she ever admit such ludicrous fantasy? For even the surface thought of them giving onto the temptation of love is already ridiculous. 

"I’m married to the country," the matriarch defied. "It will stay that way for decades to come. Or until my head can no longer carry the weight of the crown." 

The battalion leader can only nod in obedience. Who was she to disagree with the queen herself? She looked at the scabbard decorated on her leg. It was suddenly interesting; she remembered how she forged the steel into life a decade ago. Until to this day, it still looked fresh like it came out of a blacksmith's coven. She narrows her sight to the engraved rose near the hilt--the imprint was a symbol for the gardens she and Jennie would visit during the summer. Though their last visit was eleven years ago.