Poison Heart // Ch. 1

Pairing: Prince!Taehyung x Queen!Reader

Summary: In the land of Aster, a powerful queendom, all female daughters of the queen are blessed by the Goddess and are immune to poison. Your mother, the Queen, is ready to step down and offer her place to you but according to tradition, the heir of Aster has to be married to ascend to the throne. You despise the fact that you have to be married to rule. As an act of rebellion, you announce that you will marry the prince of the one kingdom your mother had warned you not to.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 6.3k+

Warnings: snakes, violence

Masterlist 

Prologue

Many thanks to my beta reader, @thewishofafallenangel!

“It’s ridiculous,” you said, walking underneath an archway covered in vines. “She decided all on her own like it isn’t my life she’s talking about. And now everyone knows and they are expecting me to be engaged by summertime.”

Abigail tightened her cloak around her petite form. It was a chilly morning and while you were mostly indifferent to the cold bite of late winter, your cousin was much more affected. “She thinks that what she’s doing is for the best. There has been talk about it. You know they have been wondering why you have never accepted any courting offers.”

“Because I don’t want any courting offers.” A strong gust of wind blew your hair back. You had let it cascade freely around your shoulders devoid of any intricate braids and jewelled pins. “Why do I have to get married? This must be the most pointless tradition to have ever existed. I don’t need to get married to have heirs and I certainly don’t need a man to rule.”

Abigail had to rush her steps to keep up with you. It had been her idea to go on a walk in the gardens but it seemed like she might be regretting it soon. “You don’t but it is what it is. It is what everyone expects. But it doesn’t have to be a big deal. You said it yourself that being married doesn’t matter in the way you rule the land. Don’t give the marriage any more significance than you have to.”

“That’s easier said than done,” you said. “He will be sitting on the throne next to mine and everyone will expect to see us together at the balls and ceremonies. I can’t ignore the fact that he will be my husband.”

He would be always there, nobles would ask after him, the servants would gossip about how much or how little time you spent together, people would wonder how soon you would get pregnant with the next heir. Your mother had complicated pregnancies and, despite her many attempts, you had no siblings. You were the only daughter of the reigning queen, the only one who had The Gift.

The Gift manifested only in the daughters of the Queen. There hadn’t ever been a Queen sitting on Aster’s throne who wasn’t blessed with it. Legend said that the long line of Queens was descended from Amaranthe, one of the three daughters of the Sky. She fell in love with a mortal and had a daughter with him but when her daughter grew older and she married a noble from one of the first kingdoms, he poisoned her after she gave birth to a little girl. The Sky cried for three days and three nights at the sorrow and despair of his daughter. Amaranthe whisked her granddaughter away and whispered to her the Gift she was giving her, witnessed by her sisters and her father. No poison would make her sick, no poison would taint her beauty, no poison would ever dim the life in hers or her daughters’ eyes. 

And so it came true. The goddess granted her granddaughter a second gift, taking her to a land that was prosperous and its people were kind. The people loved her so much for she was kind and clever that they made her their queen. Her daughters, just like her, were immune to poison and the Gift lived in the next Queen’s daughters as well. It was passed down from generation to generation, down the centuries. Traditions developed around the immunity like breeding venomous snakes and each of the Queen’s daughters choosing one to accompany them in life. 

Lilith was curled around your shoulders, her head resting on your collarbone. When you had turned eight and it was your time to choose your companion, your mother had taken you to the Royal Snake Den. A large building in the southern part of the castle, covered by a glass dome. It was fashioned like their natural environment: part forest, part desert, and part grassland. The snakes coexisted peacefully, in harmony with each other and their caretakers. They were tamed and provided with everything they would need. As far as you were aware, there hadn’t been any accidents of the royal snakes attacking anyone. 

You had been visiting the Royal Snake Den since you were a toddler and it was your favourite place on the castle grounds. No one other than the royal family and the caretakers visited it and you could sit in silence and spend some time on your own. Most of the snakes didn’t pay any attention to you but some of them would wrap themselves around your arms and they were content to remain there until you left. 

Choosing a snake was one of the most important parts of the life of the Queen’s daughters. Your chosen snake would accompany you until the end of your days, stay by your side and if your bond was strong, it would try to protect you if you ever were threatened. The royal snakes had a longer lifespan than the snakes living in the wild and the Queens’ companions would die shortly after their Queen did. Your lives were intertwined.

You had chosen Lilith before you turned eight. She would slither to you every time you went to the Den and drape herself over your arms, legs, or shoulders. You were in awe of how beautiful and elegant she was, her shiny scales were so dark they looked black and they shined purple when the light hit them right. You had no doubt she was the one you wanted to spend your life with. You had never regretted that decision.

“Mother has started asking me about courtships as well,” Abigail said.

“Have you not told her about your letter correspondence beloved?” you asked, knowing she hadn’t.

She rolled her eyes at your question. “She knows I’m exchanging letters with someone but she thinks they’re just a friend. If she learns of it, she will insist he rides here this instant and we start a proper courtship.”

“Is that not what you want? Didn’t you use to look forward to the day someone would start courting you?” 

Her cloak billowed around her as the wind blew with more force. You would have to go inside soon if it kept getting stronger. “I did and I still do but it isn’t time yet. Neither of us is ready for that and he has responsibilities in his country before he can come here to court me.”

Abigail had been sending letters to her mysterious lover for more than a year. She had met him in one of the countries she had visited with her parents on behalf of the crown. Her mother, as the Queen’s sister, attended the matters in other countries that the Queen herself couldn’t. As a result, Abigail had been travelling her whole life to distant lands and had even crossed the sea once while you had only crossed the borders two times in all of your 26 years. 

Your duty was here in Aster but it would have been beneficial to your reign if you had travelled more before taking the throne. There were things that lessons couldn’t teach you about the other nations.

“What are you going to do about courting then? Are you going to accept any proposals?”

“I don’t want to,” she said, her sharp chin raised in determination. “A courtship is a promise to open your heart to someone but my heart is already taken. It will feel like I’m betraying him if I am to accept." 

You passed by a marble statue of a woman, snakes draped over her shoulders and arms and wrapped around her torso. There was a challenge in her face so intense like she was ready to fight the world and win. The statue didn’t depict a specific queen, it represented all of them. 

"A courtship is just a courtship,” you said thinking of your own impending doom. “You’ll get some gifts, go on a few walks, drink tea together and that’s it. It will please your mother for now and later you can call off the courtship because you think you are incompatible and your mysterious man can come in and sweep you off your feet.”

Abigail made a face that warped the perfect features that had many suitors running after her. “You might not think much of it because you don’t care but courtship is the beginning of a bond. I can’t do it with anyone else other than the one I love. It wouldn’t feel right. My time and my hand belong only to him." 

You clicked your tongue fondly at your cousin. Abigail had only shared about her beloved with you and not much. He wasn’t what her mother had been planning for her. According to her, he was a noble but not of the highest status. Hearing her talk about him for months and hiding the letters from her mother, you had realised that your cousin had fallen in love. 

After your walk with Abigail, you returned to your room and flopped down on the bed in a very unfitting way for a future queen. Venting your frustrations to your cousin hadn’t lessened them as you had hoped. You were still stewing like the beef in wine the cooks made. 

There wasn’t much time left until your birthday. Until you had to choose a prince to play pretend with. There was no way to get out of this. No pleas or complaints would work on your mother. When she decided on something, it was final. There would be no changing her mind. 

Although you despised the idea of getting married, of having to drag behind you a prince you could hardly tolerate, you wanted the throne. Your entire life, you had been preparing for the day you would rule. You had taken lessons on history, geography, strategy, politics, maths, and science, you had been taught by the greatest teachers of the continent, you had studied and worked hard so you could one day become the queen your people deserved. 

A prince had nothing to do with that. A prince would offer you nothing but problems. 

The days that followed, you ignored the inevitability of your upcoming birthday like you ignored your mother. You attended meetings, met up with your cousins, and mingled with the nobles. Your mother didn’t call you to her chambers again and during meals, you took your place at her side but didn’t speak to her unless she addressed you directly. She was getting tired of your behaviour, you could tell by the tightness of her lips and her narrowed eyes, but she didn’t confront you and you remained locked in a losing battle of wills. 

As your birthday crept closer, the talk about the grand ball your mother was organising and about the future prince consort of Aster grew louder. You heard servants whispering about their guesses on who you would choose in the corridors. The guards gossiped about it when they thought no one could hear them. Whoever was your future husband would be for sure a lucky man, they said. 

The royal professors didn’t ask you about the upcoming ball and the choice you would have to make. It was evident to anyone who knew you that the idea of getting married was as appealing to you as eating dirt. You were supposed to stop taking lessons when you became of age but you believed there was so much left to learn so you insisted on continuing the lessons you were the most interested in. They weren’t as frequent as when you were a kid, taking the shape of long conversations instead of the professor rambling. More like you had your own advisors. You enjoyed yourself immensely. Knowledge was a powerful weapon in your arsenal and it would be invaluable when you were crowned queen. 

The weeks before the ball you were whisked in a hurricane of preparations. Tailoring your dress that the seamstress swore would be beautiful enough to rival the shine of the stars, tasting dishes to decide on the menu, and approving each option for the decoration. Usually, you enjoyed the bustle before a celebration and you liked being involved in the planning. But this wasn’t any other celebration. This only reminded you that you were getting closer to a choice you didn’t want to make.

Invitations were sent out and letters arrived back stating which royals would make the journey to Aster for your birthday. Kings, Queens and their families from the most distant lands would attend the ball. You hadn’t read the invitations but Abigail told you that it was strongly implied that you would be choosing the future prince consort. No kingdom would miss the chance to offer their princes. 

A few days before your birthday, you were in the Den sitting underneath a large tree, snakes hanging from its branches like vines. You had gone out in the city, walked in the market, and spoken to your people. You had heard their joys and their complaints. On a piece of parchment, you wrote them down and made notes on solutions and ideas that would improve their daily lives. 

The queens of Aster were never distant names to their people. They communicated and worked with them for the advancement of the country. They didn’t dismiss them and their worries and that’s why the people trusted and loved them. That’s the queen you were going to be, you were going to give back to the country that raised you and loved you. 

As you were writing, not caring if the ink of your pen stained your dress, a servant stepped into the Den and bowed low.

“Your highness. Her Majesty, the Queen, is requesting your presence in her office.”

You forced yourself not to groan. There was only one thing this meeting could be about. 

“Thank you for letting me know. I will be there shortly,” you said, dismissing her. She seemed relieved to leave the Royal Den. “Let’s go deal with this, Lilith.”

Her tongue flickered out once before she curled around your arm. You dropped by your room to leave the parchment, pen, and ink and if it pleased you to keep your mother waiting, no one had to know. 

The guards in front of her office bowed to you before opening the intricately carved double doors. Your mother’s office was a relic of all the queens that had come before her. The towering bookshelves against the walls with books spanning centuries into the past. The blue flowers immortalised in glass on a low table. The silver knitting needles with rubies at the ends laying on the bookshelves. A statue of the first Queen. The large stained window depicting a purple flower blooming through a rock. The scratches on the desk.

Your mother was standing by one of the two windows framing the stained glass. 

“You asked for me,” you said. 

She nodded. “I did.” She glanced outside the window once more before going to her desk. “Are you going to stand there?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me to take a seat?”

She sighed, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. “Please take a seat.” You did, crossing your legs. “You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” you said curtly. 

Your mother raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie. “Angry or not, there are merely a few short days before your birthday, we should discuss your options. You have been informed of all the guests that have accepted our invitation and all the courting offers you have received. Do you have anyone specific in mind?”

“I don’t.” You had avoided thinking about the ball for as long as possible, you didn’t even want to glance at the names of the princes. 

Her expression didn’t change, she had expected this. “Then, both as the Queen and as your mother, I have some suggestions.”

You repressed another groan building up in your throat. You weren’t interested in her suggestions. At the moment, you weren’t interested in anything she had to say. If you were going to enter a courtship you didn’t want with someone you didn’t care about because of a stupid tradition she insisted on upholding then you wouldn’t let her control you any more than she already did.

You schooled your face into a slightly bored expression that was guaranteed to irritate her as she listed off the princes from the countries that Aster would benefit from forming alliances. 

Esna had the most fertile ground in the continent and produced a wide range of fruits and vegetables that didn’t grow anywhere else. They would be willing to ship supplies across the Great River if you married one of their two unmarried princes. Tivaria had a strong military and mined precious gems they styled into stunning jewellery that would make great wedding gifts and additions to the royal collection. The lands across the sea would offer new opportunities for trade of materials and hard-to-find items.

The young prince of Jeseon was your mother’s most favoured option. Jeseon and Aster had been strong allies in the past and the royal families remained friends. When Gwangsu had attacked Jeseon in the past aiming to take over the land, your grandmother had been quick to send reinforcements despite the fact that the two countries didn’t share a border. Jeseon had emerged victorious and they had never forgotten Aster’s support.

“The youngest prince of Gwangsu will also be attending the ball accompanied by the heir to Gwangsu’s throne.” Your mother’s lips were set in a thin line showing the disdain. Gwangsu was considered a backward and brutal land of sand and rocks. The king, some whispered, was more of a tyrant than a leader. “I trust you not to make any decisions that will reflect badly on Aster’s crown. And speaking as a mother to her daughter, not as the Queen to her heir, if the prince is anything like his father, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

You scoffed, this one you couldn’t suppress. “I can take care of myself.”

Your mother looked at you like she very much doubted that and the rage you had been harbouring for months knocked against your ribs. You were a few steps away from becoming Queen and your mother didn’t trust you around a prince. Ridiculous. 

You rushed to excuse yourself before this could evolve into another argument. You had had enough of those. 

The day of your birthday arrived wrapped in silks and with the sound of silver bells. Aster was celebrating. Your lady-in-waiting woke you up cheerfully, singing about the joyous day. She was out of tune at best but it made you laugh while she helped you into your morning dress. It was the colour of the blush she applied on your cheeks with a low neckline and lace sleeves. She brushed and braided your hair before situating on your head the golden tiara that marked you as the heir of Aster. 

The dining room was alive as everyone wished you a happy birthday. Both of your mother’s siblings were here along with all of your cousins. The breakfast was a family affair. Abigail sat next to you, doing her best to take your mind off. It was a fruitless endeavour when everyone else was talking about the ball.

You had come to terms with it in a way. You had thought about it and although you hated the idea as much as you did that day on your mother’s balcony, you had realised that you couldn’t get out of this. If your mother wanted you to get married to a prince before letting you take the throne, you would do it. But you would do it on your terms. 

The foreign royal families had arrived throughout the past few days. The previous evening, you had taken your tea in the western pavilion with some of your guests as was proper. Your mother had suggested a walk with the second-youngest prince of Esna and, gritting your teeth so hard they could break, you accepted. You played the role. You would become Queen soon, you could play a role. The prince was polite if a little arrogant under the surface. He talked about hunting and whatever else princes enjoyed and you hid a yawn behind your hand. 

You couldn’t listen to that for the rest of your life. You would much rather choke on your tea. 

Before the ball, before your ladies came to your room to dress you and do your hair and makeup, you slipped away to the Temple. It was built on the steep side of the hill the castle was on and you had to climb down tens of wide stairs built into the rock to get there. Upon recognizing you, the priestesses were quick to whisk you away to the prayer room. 

The sound of falling water calmed you more than any words could. The waterfall in the centre of the room was illuminated by a blue light coming from inside the rock. No one had found the source, the light was just there. The water cascaded around three statues like a veil. The three Goddesses gazed at you composed and regal. Amaranthe, the one who blessed you with your gift, stood in the middle with her hands extended in front of her like she was holding an invisible flame. 

You knelt by the edge of the pool and bowed your head to them. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears and your hands gripped the beautiful fabric of your dress so hard your long nails could have ripped it apart.

You whispered a prayer to them, asking for wisdom and strength, and got up. You had dreaded this night for a long time. It was about time you took your fate into your hands. Your mother had made enough decisions for you. 

The seamstress had outdone herself with your dress. The deep purple velvet was embroidered with golden thread and precious gems lined the plunging off-shoulder neckline. The dress was cinched at your waist by a golden belt carved into Aster flowers, the symbol of your country, with gems placed at the centre of each flower. 

Asters grew all over the country, the greatest number of them blooming around Enya, the capital. They cracked rocks to grow and clusters of them could often be found emerging from large boulders. They symbolised strength and resilience and your nation had been named after them in hopes of fostering those values. 

Your hair was pinned at the back of your head with jewelled pins, your morning makeup washed away and replaced with deeper colours for the night. Powder, dark lips, a touch of blush high on your cheeks, and black lining your eyes. Lilith slithered up your arm and settled at her place around your shoulders. When you looked up at the mirror you could see the queen you would be one day, not the girl who was ruled by her mother’s will and nonsensical traditions. 

You were deliberately late enough for a grand entrance. The lively music coming from the ballroom trailed off and you heard your title and name being called. Chin high and back straight, you descended the grand staircase. All eyes were on you and you were delighted at the attention. This was your night. 

The ballroom was decorated in gold and purple like your gown. Long tables lined the walls covered with white tablecloths and decorative long strips of purple in the middle. The light from the chandeliers bounced off the gold on the walls. The ceiling was painted like the night sky in black and deep blue, littered with stars and a waning moon. If one were to quickly glance at it, they would think there was no roof but only the expanse of sky above. 

A path to the table at the other end of the room was cleared for you. Your mother raised from her place in the centre of the table underneath the sculpture on the wall of two snakes intertwined and an Aster flower blooming between them. You greeted her with a kiss on the cheek as was suitable and took your place on her right. 

"Let the music begin again,” your mother called. “Let us rejoice and celebrate the princess’ life!" 

The guests cheered and the musicians resumed the joyous melody. You surveyed the room. More royals had arrived since yesterday and nobles from your court were ogling at them. High-born ladies and lords alike eyed the foreign princesses and princes. They were more excited for the night than you were. 

Your mother placed the best cut of meat on your plate and gave you a smile that could have been reassuring but to you, it only looked condescending. You ate in silence while she talked to her advisors and her brother and sister that were sitting at the table with you. They knew you well enough to sense you weren’t in the mood for talking so they didn’t bother you. You used dinnertime to observe your guests.

You had met most of the Kings and Queens in the past as well as a few princes and princesses. Some you were indifferent towards, some you tolerated and there were a few you genuinely enjoyed the company of. And there were also the ones you’d never seen before but you could tell their titles by the way they held themselves. Your eyes jumped from one person to the next, calculating. Until they stopped at a faraway table. 

A boy was sitting there, his eyes on his plate as he cut the meat with measured movements. His black curls were brushing his shoulders free from any binds. They looked silky and smooth like the furs you liked to run your fingers through in winter. Unlike the other people at the table, he seemed almost meek and he didn’t open his mouth to speak. By his beautiful features and the absence of a king close to him, you guessed he was the prince from Gwangsu. The king hadn’t graced you with his presence sending three of his sons, including his heir, in his stead. 

Abigail must have followed your gaze and she was watching them too. 

"What are you looking at so intensely?” your mother asked. 

You snapped your gaze away from the prince as if you had been caught doing something forbidden. “Nothing. I was thinking." 

Your mother hummed, bringing the gold goblet filled with red wine to her lips. "I trust that you have a few favoured options in mind. If you haven’t chosen already.”

You took a bite of your food, not gracing her with an answer. You had nothing to tell her. 

Dinner was soon over and the dancing and mingling began. Lilith didn’t enjoy dancing—too much turning and moving for her—so you left her at the table. Also, having a poison snake around you didn’t attract many dancing partners, which usually you would use to your advantage. And how did they expect someone to become your prince consort if they were afraid of your life companion?

You found Abigail and had a short conversation with her before she was swept away by a noble for a dance. You hadn’t been asked to dance yet, the princes were probably intimidated and were waiting for someone else to go first. 

“Your Highness, may I have this dance?" 

You turned around and came face to face with the king of Jeseon. His blond hair was swept off his forehead and his dark eyes twinkled with mirth.

A grin took over your face. "But of course, Your Majesty, how could I refuse?" 

You passed your drink to a servant and took the King’s extended hand. You bowed to each other and he placed a hand on your waist as a new song started. 

"They are looking at us,” you whispered as the dance brought you close to his ear. 

Others were dancing, but there was a greater space around the two of you than the other couples. The ones dancing would sneak glances at you over their shoulders and the rest of the guests openly watched you. 

“They were probably expecting you to give the first dance to one of the numerous princes hoping to court you,” Namjoon said as your palms connected and you moved in a circle. “You have to excuse me but I wanted to take the chance before you are flooded with dance requests." 

"I would have found some time for you,” you said. 

You had known Namjoon since you were children, the strong ties between your countries meant that your families often visited each other and exchanged letters. Namjoon was only a couple of years older than you and other than Abigail he used to be the only person you felt close to. You shared the future of a throne and through letters, as you got older you would discuss your struggles and reassure each other. 

But the throne had called for Namjoon much earlier than any of you could have anticipated. His father got sick before Namjoon came of age and he died only a few months after. He had written to you, you remember reading the letter by the fireplace in your room shivering despite the heat. In his kingdom, succession didn’t work like it did in yours. Only when the king died would the new king be crowned while in Aster it was tradition for the Queen mother to bless her heir and place the crown on her head. Namjoon had thought he had many years before being crowned. 

There was a spark of jealousy that he had ascended before you without a need to get married or follow any other stupid traditions but it was smothered quickly. He hadn’t wanted his coronation to happen like that. You knew he would have rather had his father by his side than be king. 

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked, twirling you around. 

Along with your mother’s invitation, you had sent a sealed letter to him. 

“You know that my mother has her eye on Jungkook, right?” you asked to avoid answering his question. 

Namjoon chuckled. “I can’t think of anything worse." 

"Exactly,” you said, gliding around him. You made a face briefly so no one else would catch it. “It would be like marrying my annoying little brother." 

You both looked at Jungkook who was laughing boisterously at something Seokjin, Namjoon’s advisor, had said. His large eyes and bunny teeth made him look much younger than he was. He was still a kid in your eyes even though he had grown tall and his muscles bulged through his shirt. 

 "Why did you send a courting offer in the first place?” you asked. “I hadn’t expected that.”

“My advisors were insisting. They wouldn’t give in until I sent one. You would never accept so I didn’t worry,” Namjoon said. “He has plenty of time until marriage. He’s still too young in many ways. He doesn’t have to rush, he can take his time and find someone his heart truly desires. He doesn’t have our responsibilities.“ 

"I don’t see you getting married either,” you said. 

His smile tightened. “They are waiting for me to get married too. I have been stalling and they are beginning to notice. I need an heir. My council has been presenting me with options of princesses and girls of noble birth. You are not the only one in a difficult position." 

"At least you don’t have to choose tonight,” you countered. 

He glanced at his brother and his advisor. “It might not be tonight but it will be soon. At least your heart is free." 

You would have asked what he meant but the song was finished. You bowed to each other again and the second–youngest prince of Esna got brave and walked over to ask you for a dance. Later, you saw Namjoon dancing with a princess from the northern counties across the sea. He was smiling but you wondered if he was overthinking his predicament and what each dance could mean now.

Namjoon didn’t have an aversion to marriage like you did. On a late summer night in your mother’s private garden during one of his visits, he had confessed to you that the throne was lonely and he wished he could share it with someone. And yet he didn’t sound pleased about his future marriage now. You had sensed that he harboured affections for someone and now you understood that whoever it was, he couldn’t have them. His heart wasn’t free.

Your problems couldn’t be more different. 

You were taking a break from dancing, sipping on more red wine. It was like you could feel time moving, hear the grains of sand falling in an hourglass. 

“Your highness,” Sanghoon, the crown prince of Gwangsu said, bowing slightly in respect. He addressed you with your full title and full name. It was the common way of greeting between royals of the same status from different countries. 

You tilted your head in acknowledgment. You had never met him before but you knew the names of all the members of the royal families. You had also been given descriptions of the guests you were unfamiliar with so you could recognize them at the ball. 

“It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance. My father, the King of Gwangsu, is sending his regards and his regrets at not being able to be in attendance tonight due to matters he had to take care of in our country.”

“No offence has been taken at his absence.” 

Your eyes strayed to the boy who you guessed was the youngest prince. Taehyung was his name if your memory served you well. He was smiling, it wasn’t as big as his brother’s but it was far more genuine. You were intrigued by him, his beauty, and how soft he looked. Nothing like his brother. 

“This is my youngest brother, Taehyung,” Sanghoon said and Taehyung bowed to you, not just his head like his brother but bending his whole upper body forward. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” His deep voice startled you and you wished to hear more of it. 

“Likewise.”

Sanghoon puffed his chest—any more and he would combust—and sent a stern look at his brother. Taehyung quickly looked away and you found yourself irritated at his brother for making him fumble. 

“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” he asked almost shyly, his curls framing his face like the night sky hugged the moon. 

Your mother had warned you to stay away from the prince of Gwangsu. If there was one prince she wanted no ties with, it was him. 

"Of course,” you said, offering your hand. 

The prince smiled wide, reminding you of a puppy. You led him to the dance floor and adjusted your steps to the song that was playing. 

He was a good dancer, a little self-conscious of his steps but one of the best you had danced with. His touch was feather-light on your waist. He didn’t brag about what his kingdom could offer or shower you in honey-sticky compliments. 

Your kingdoms had been enemies not a long time ago yet you didn’t think of that while you danced. You floated around the dancefloor in silence and it was enough. Relaxing. 

When the song ended, you bowed to each other and Taehyung thanked you for the dance. You watched him as he got lost in the crowd and you moved towards where Abigail was standing. 

A hand gripped your forearm and you were about to say some strong words to whoever it was when you turned and saw your mother. 

She was glaring at you with poorly concealed anger. You could peel back her composure like the skin of an onion. “What were you doing with him?" 

"Dancing,” you said, feigning ignorance. 

“What did I tell you about Gwangsu? You don’t want to get involved with them. They are bad news. Terrible news." 

You shook your arm free from her grip. She didn’t stop you, she didn’t want to make a scene. ”You don’t want me to get involved with them. There’s a difference.“ 

"This might not have been what you wanted but it’s unbecoming of you to try to spite me like this,” she said. “You gain nothing from this. Do you not remember what Gwangsu did? What I told you about the king? They aren’t like us. They don’t share our values and our beliefs." 

"You’re talking about a war whose initiator has long died. I was dancing with a prince, not the king and not a dead man,” you countered. 

Your mother’s jaw clenched. If you were in the privacy of your chambers, she would have raised her voice but here surrounded by people she wouldn’t dare. “You will not dance with him again. We’re looking for an ally, not an enemy." 

"I’m not looking for anything,” you said through your teeth. “This is all you." 

Before she could reply, you stormed away. Lilith pressed her head against your neck as if trying to comfort you.

Your mother hadn’t listened to you when you’d told her you didn’t want to get married, she hadn’t even tried to challenge the tradition that had no reason to exist. How could she expect you to listen to her when she had been the one to force you into this? 

She wanted you to get married, then so be it. 

Determined, you walked to Taehyung who was standing with his brothers, looking small between them. A small smile appeared on his face when he spotted you and a small flicker of warmth licked your insides. 

"I have decided to accept the Prince of Gwangsu Taehyung’s courting offer,” you said loudly so everyone around you could hear. 

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“I still wonder wonder beautiful story” ~ scenery