They call her Princess. They still call her Princess after all this time. When she is living in a place barely even big enough for three people, and wearing clothing that probably belonged to a servant of hers from those years ago--they still treat her like royalty, like someone worthy of their dedication. 

Naeun cries at night sometimes--when field work becomes a little too hard for her, when the sun burns her skin and dirt digs deep into her nails. She feels awful because she must do her part to help a village that had hid her from her assassins. Once upon a time, she had been living a good life at the palace, when people reveled at her existence, where servants would come running at every bark of her others, where she sits prettily and let the princes admire her beauty. A beauty unmatched, unmarred-- a visage to rule a kingdom.

But now she is nothing. Hair disheveled and face barely recognizable. 

Princess, Naeun scoffs at such a title. Princess and kings and queens are no more.

Naeun is... 

"Princess?"

Naeun turns her head away and hides her eyes from Taemin's searching eyes. He stands several feet away from her, keeping his distance. She shies from his presence often, beating shame and guilt for the death of his father during a clash from their escape. His father, who remained loyal despite the overthrow of the aristocracy, had saved her from the blade of a fellow soldier. She never knew of his father until that moment, where his dying breath wished for her to live. Naeun, who robbed Taemin of a father, daringly lives despite of.

 "Do you feel ill?"

"No, I am fine."

"The field is tough work. You bruise easily, your Majesty." He gestures at her hands. Naeun stares at them with mild distaste. Once, they were soft and smooth but now they are calloused and covered with cuts. Her hands are unsightly. She glances to him with a slight smile.

"It is nothing compared to what you and your village has done for me." 

"Still, as a princess, we cannot let--"

"I... am not a princess anymore." Naeun takes a deep breath and controls her emotions. "There is no need to be treated like so. Please speak comfortably. You can call me 'Naeun'."

Taemin seems surprised by her statements but agrees nonetheless. "Naeun".

She smiles genuinely at that.

"Still, we cannot stain such pretty hands," he steps forward and pulls an ointment out from his pocket. With boldness, he extends his hand and asks for her hands. "If it pleases you--may I?"

Naeun holds out without hesitation, her hand tiny on top of his, fingers hovering. "You may."