Miniiseungmini - Eternity Of Gold - Tumblr Blog

Hi! I've been following you for a while and I absolutely love your content! 😍

I was wondering if you could do a SKZ (or a single member or couple of the members of your choosing) where the reader who loves simple and dainty jewelry can't find their simple and dainty engagement ring because SKZ replaced it with a bigger and flashier one because they were mocked by fans/friends/family for not getting reader a bigger and flashier ring. (of course reader gets her loved ring back in the end)

I hope you have a wonderful day and or night. 🤗

He tries to replace your engagement ring with a "better" one

Danceracha x reader (individually)

Warnings: just fluff

Masterlist

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500 Followers = 500 Words Event: Jisung

No More Games.

-> Pairing: Han Jisung x gf!reader

-> Requested by: Anon

-> Prompt:  No. 10 - “I think we should end things here. It’s for the best.” 

-> Warnings: Pouty Jisung. One joke about Minho being the love of Jisung's life. Don't take it literally. I don't do the whole shipping thing but it's clear Minho is Jisung's safe space and soulmate, they remind me of me and my bestie a lot (I'm a lot like Jisung when it comes to anxiety and introvertedness). My bestie is my soulmate and we joke that we're each others platonic wife's. I also think if female friends can have friendships like that without being labeled anything, that men should be allowed to as well. I originally planned to have this angsty but it's his birthday. I couldn't bring myself to write angst.

-> Word Count: 533

-> Requests: Closed

-> Tag List: Open. Send me an ask or fill out this form - Tag List Form.

500 Words Event M.List | Jisung Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist

“I think we should end things here. It’s for the best.” Y/N says, reaching to gather the game pieces. She had just won her fifth round, and she could sense her boyfriend's frustration mounting with every loss.  

Jisung stares at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, clearly taken aback by her suggestion to stop the game. He was hoping to keep playing until he could win at least one round.  

"Wait, why? We're just getting started!" He sulks, his voice a mix of disbelief and disappointment. 

Y/N pauses, her hand hovering over the game pieces. She glances across the coffee table at him, taking in the way his brows are furrowed and the way his lips are pouted slightly. 

"Jisung," she begins, her voice softening, "You were practically fuming over there a minute ago."  

He shakes his head, his expression one of determination. This is his girlfriend’s favourite game. He’s been learning to play it so it could be something they do together when she can’t meet up with her friends which had been often lately. "I’ve been learning how to play so you can still play it when you're not with your friend. I also took every free moment that I had to practice. I just need one more chance to show you that I can play this game!" A hint of desperation appeared in his eyes. 

Y/N can’t help but smile at his little confession. “But it’s your birthday. We should be doing something you want to do.” 

“I’m already doing what I want to do,” he assures her. “I spent the day with the boys and now I’m spending the rest of my birthday with the love of my life.” 

“Minho’s here?” she asks pretending to look for her boyfriend’s boyfriend. 

“Hahaha,” he laughs sarcastically.  

“I’m joking,” She chuckles and leans over and pecks his lips. “But seriously, let's do something you want to do.” 

“I’m just kidding,” She chuckles and leans over and placing a soft peck to his lips. “But seriously, let’s do something you want to do.”  

"What I want to do is play one more round of this game," he insists. 

“One more round,” she concedes, holding her hand up with one finger raised. “But if you lose again, we are putting the game away and doing something else.”  

His face breaks into a wide grin, his disappointment melting away. He leans forward to reset the pieces on the board, his eyes sparkling with determination. “I’m so going to win this time. I can feel it!”  

As they begin a new round, Y/N can’t help but admire the way Jisung’s focuses, his brow furrowing in concentration as he bites his lip. She watches him, so much affection her heart swells. If she were an anime character, there would be love hearts drawn in her eyes, showing how much love she has for him. 

“You know, you’re really cute when you’re all serious like this,” she teases, her heart eyes now twinkling with mischief.  

He glances up at her, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Stop it! I’m just trying to concentrate here,” he retorts, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

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L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 6

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of eating/food

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: closed

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 20

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Skz fake texts ── bf! Seungmin Photo convos with your Menace beware, very delulu

Warning: mentions of suggestive, playful banter

── all fake texts

Requested.

skz!bang chan in a private but not so secret relationship with you !

bang chan x idol!reader smau ♡

a/n: i've just been so invested in secret relationships and people dropping hints about their relationship (looking at you han w your want so bad confetti/j) so i wanted to try out this fun idea !

should i make some more (probably for other idols as well? lmk !

image count: 10 (2 instagram story)

cw swearing !

ඞ control + alt love (📱, 📖)(M)

being a girl in the world of gaming is hard, that's why you've kept your identity a secret. after years of intense grinding, you have earned the title of the strongest mage player in the non-professional server. gaining the attention of an esports team they extend an invitation for you to join as their mid-solo.

having to overcome the fear of being a girl in the male dominated field, you come to learn maybe defeating boys - or specifically a certain boy - is something you could get used to.

gamer!seungmin x fem-gamer!reader

rating : (M) - mature

genre : humor, strangers to slight enemies to friends to lovers, esports au

warnings : profanity, sex jokes, death jokes, gaming, mature content, fictional game, slight you x jeongin if you squint

notes : gonna be honest with you chat... i know nothing about esports but after further research i know just about the same as i did before research so :) also in this world the guys are very silly with their fans on twitter!

status : ongoing

updates : lwk whenever i feel like it :p

taglist : comment or message if you would like to be added so you don’t miss out!

profiles (1) | profiles (2)

1 - that blonde lesbian 2 - playing dumb is hyunjin’s job 📖 3 - mind your manners 4 - so far up their ass 5 - bullying kids on roblox 6 - put your boner away 7 - sad and wet rn

control alt + love [k. seung]

7. sad and wet rn

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Best Friend Protocol #10 (Angst part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible. Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: All images, so N/A. Unless someone wants to make these accessible but I don't really know how.

Notes: Another Idea from @thatgirlangelb! We love her <3 Not that much Angst, honestly. Reader just has a bad day and makes it Felix's problem (sorta) and he makes it Binnie's problem. Really I just had bad mental health and wanted Binnie to comfort me. Don't we all? Also I counted my chapters by the month I posted them. I did half as many last month as I did the month before. Does that mean only 1 and a half this month? lol we'll see.

Warnings: She/Her Reader. Reader encounters a creep on the subway and has a bit of a scary situation but nothing happens.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

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Perma Tag List <3 : @mbioooo0000

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying? 

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile. 

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES.  From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket. 

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge. 

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being. 

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair. 

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each. 

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

Skz fake texts ── bf! SKZ Random sh*t you send each other Pt.6

Warning: mentions of cursing, suggestive, playful banter/bullying

── all fake texts

MODEL! HYUNJIN X FEM! MODEL! READER

autor’s note: hi! this is my first post, I hope you’ll like it!

warnings: none!! pure fluff

Hyunjin, a renowned Versace model and gifted artist, has grown used to the fast-paced world of fashion. But when Y/N, a new model, steps into the scene, her authenticity catches his eye. As their paths intertwine, Hyunjin finds himself drawn not just to her beauty, but to something deeper—especially when he discovers a personal connection to his art in her life.

The lights above the runway glowed bright as you walked, your heart racing with every step. It was your first major show—Versace, no less—and the pressure of the fashion world felt like it was resting squarely on your shoulders. You kept your face composed, though. It was the life you had chosen, after all.

As you reached the end of the runway and struck your final pose, you caught a glimpse of someone standing backstage. Hwang Hyunjin. A name you had heard whispered many times, both in the modeling industry and beyond. He was already legendary as a Versace model—and as an artist. He stood with that ethereal grace, watching the runway with a calm confidence. His aura drew you in instantly.

Backstage, the models buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the room for Hyunjin. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the effortless way he carried himself, or the way his expressive eyes seemed to speak without words. But there he was, standing near a rack of designer outfits, quietly sketching in a notebook.

He must have felt your gaze, because his eyes lifted from the page and met yours.

You blinked and quickly turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

A moment later, you heard a voice behind you. “Nervous?”

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Hyunjin. His smile was small but warm, and it made your heart stutter. “A little,” you admitted, forcing yourself to breathe.

“You didn’t show it out there. You looked great.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would survive that.”

He chuckled, his laughter soft and genuine. “We all feel that way at first. Trust me.”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “You were sketching something?”

“Oh,” he glanced down at the notebook in his hand, almost shyly, “yeah, just passing time. It’s nothing.”

“I bet it’s beautiful,” you said without thinking. His sketches were famous—everyone knew Hyunjin wasn’t just a model but an incredible artist. His works sold out faster than any runway show.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at your comment, looking a little surprised, but his smile grew just a bit wider. “Maybe one day you’ll see for yourself.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and as more Versace events brought you together, you and Hyunjin grew closer. What began as polite conversations evolved into genuine exchanges—talks about art, fashion, and life beyond the glitz and glamor. He was different from the others. Though he was breathtaking in every way, Hyunjin never acted like it. Instead, he carried himself with a quiet humility, a soul deeper than the world around him realized.

One evening, after a long day of fittings, you sat backstage, scrolling through your phone to relax. Hyunjin approached, as he often did these days, and sat beside you. His presence had become comforting.

"What are you looking at?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing special," you said, not thinking much of it as you showed him your phone. But his eyes widened slightly when he saw your lock screen.

It was one of his paintings—a swirling combination of colors and emotion that you had seen in an exhibition once. You loved how raw and alive it felt, and you had put it as your wallpaper without realizing Hyunjin might ever see it.

"That’s... my painting," he said softly, his voice almost touched with disbelief.

You felt a sudden rush of heat rise to your face. "Oh my god, I—yeah, it is. I didn’t think you'd—uh, I really loved it. It just felt so... powerful. I hope that's not weird."

He stared at the screen for a long moment before meeting your eyes. His usual calm demeanor had shifted, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his expression.

"It’s not weird," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. "It’s... actually really special."

His hand brushed against yours as he handed your phone back, and neither of you moved away. The air between you seemed to thicken with something unspoken.

"You know," Hyunjin began, his gaze dropping for a second before looking back up, "people don’t usually talk about my art like that. They just think of me as a model."

"I don’t," you said softly. "I think you’re an incredible artist."

Hyunjin looked at you like you had said something life-changing. His hand stayed close to yours, and you felt a magnetic pull between you, as if something deeper had just clicked into place.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost fragile. "I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that."

---

As weeks passed, the connection between you and Hyunjin only deepened. The fashion shows continued, the flashing lights, the crowds, the interviews—but somehow, when you were with him, it all faded into the background.

He would seek you out between shoots, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. His attention to detail, the way he viewed the world through an artistic lens, the kindness in his words—it made your heart race every time you saw him.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, the two of you found yourselves alone in the studio. Hyunjin was working on a painting in the corner while you sat nearby, watching him with quiet admiration. He glanced at you every so often, his eyes soft.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Of course."

"Why my painting?" he asked, his voice careful, but curious. "Out of all the art you could’ve chosen, why mine?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "Because it felt real. When I saw it, I felt something… like it was a piece of your soul. It wasn’t just a pretty picture—it had emotion, depth. I could see you in it."

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, something intense flickering in his gaze. He set his brush down and took a slow step closer.

"You saw me in it?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

"Yeah," you nodded, holding his gaze. "I did."

Hyunjin's breath hitched, and in that moment, something shifted between you. He reached out, gently taking your hand. His touch was warm, and his thumb brushed over your skin as if testing whether this was real.

"I see you too, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than you know."

You stared up at him, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. His face was inches from yours now, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. And in that quiet space, where words seemed unnecessary, Hyunjin leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

The world faded away, and for a moment, there was only the two of you—two artists, two souls, finding each other in the midst of the chaos.

———

I hope you enjoyed this story! Requests are open!!

Crystal Bird - Chapter 6

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, peeping-chan, cursing, drinking/smoking, somewhat proofread WC: 7.3k A/N: Turning point! Also this series will go on a mini-break, I want to write a few chapters in bulk and then start posting again. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

CHAPTER 6 ───────────────────

“The second princess is hurt.”

“She stood in front of Prince Ian’s arrow.”

The whispers had followed her as Y/N made her way down the corridors.

She almost burst into her bedchamber in her rush. Somehow managing to get Sienna and the attention of every maid and attendant that they crossed paths with, off of her. She insisted that she was alright. 

It was simply a scratch, nothing life-threatening.

Her convincing words and determined demeanor were enough for Sienna to sigh and concede, finally allowing her to escape her sister’s watchful eye. Anna had hurried her back to her quarters, her guard ensuring a swift return while her the young maid dashed off to fetch supplies to tend to the wound.

Truth be told, it hurt. 

The pain was so sharp that Y/N gripped her dress tightly to steady herself. Yet, she stubbornly refused to show any sign of distress.

Not to Ian, his belittling attitude would only further grate on her nerves.

Not to Sienna, whose concern only drew more attention.

Not to Chris.

Chan’s cold gaze was the most cutting of all, his look of disdain making her feel like a stubborn fool.

   “You stubborn fool.” Y/N muttered to herself as she slowly pushed aside her sleeve tenderly to inspect her wound in the mirror.

It was far from a mere scratch. The cut on her shoulder was bleeding freely, the flesh around it red and swollen. She winced at the sight, her face contorting into a frown.

A sudden knock startled her, but hearing Anna’s voice from the other side brought a sigh of relief.

Once again, there was a fuss about her wound, but this time it was just between Anna and her. The young maid’s face was a mixture of sadness, anger, and concern as she cleaned away at the spot. And this time, Y/N no longer had the energy to pretend the pain didn’t bother her.

Anna had managed to gather some medicine in her short search, to soothe the injury temporarily. 

Y/N had to attend the Royal dinner that evening, regardless of her condition. Anna suggested they skip it again, but the princess was resolute. She knew that missing the dinner after this afternoon’s incident would be disastrous, already rumors were being whispered amongst the servants.

Stupid Ian. He was probably off indulging in wine and smoke, while she was left wrapping her arm in tight bandages, careful to keep her discomfort hidden.

And on top of it all, Y/N had left behind her novel. She had really been enjoying it too.

Back in the garden where the Nightshade Prince still seemed to linger, had just watched the two princesses hurry off. 

Of course he didn’t believe for a moment that Princess Y/N was fine. As much as she claimed. She was not fine, her hurt expression betrayed the truth.

Chris knew the sting of an arrow graze well. Even a minor cut from cleaning it’s metal tip would hurt and sting for days. This was a deep cut. One that came from a distance and at full force.

A princess like her must be in excruciating pain.

But, what frustrated Chris the most was her stubbornness. The entire scene was absurd, but the boldness with which Y/N had claimed she was alright was what truly irked him.

Lying to him with such ease.

God, did she irk him.

As he glanced around the garden, at the gazebo where he had seen Y/N lounge around earlier before everything had happened, his brows narrowed as his eyes stilled on the out of place object.

Han stared at Chris in confusion, wondering what caught his Prince’s attention, enough for him to stride towards.

The novel.

The one she was engrossed in whenever he caught sight of her out here.

Chris glanced down at it, left on the chair where Y/N had been seated. 

If afternoon tea had gone the way it was meant to, maybe he would have wondered where she had managed to conceal it. Perhaps he would’ve enjoyed the sight of her flustered expression unable to refute or retort his comments.

Surely Ian’s arrival wouldn’t have allowed her to return back to her chambers. She hid it right under her.

Unknowingly, a subtle grin tugged at his lips as he picked up the book, its title already giving him ideas to tease her. 

Then her scowl flashed in front of him. 

They weren’t that close, certainly not after whatever had just transpired at this disastrous showcase or terrible archery skills.

Still, Chris found himself carrying the book under his arm as he turned to his young attendant. The one who was almost Ian’s target.

   “You should thank the second princess for her bravery in stepping up and getting nicked.” Chris advised, turning to leave with Han trailing behind him.

   “That was such a nerve wracking situation.” The warrior guard exclaimed, following behind his Prince who was silent, the novel still in his grip.

Han was still puzzled at everything that had happened. From the tension between the Princes to the injury of Princess Y/N, he truly didn’t know what he should question.

   “That second princess is certainly bold.” He added, eyeing the book in Chris’ grip, its cover decorative, clearly not about politics or foreign affairs.

   “Too bold.” Chris muttered, frustration evident in his tone, a bitter taste in his mouth.

Han shook his head, wondering why every encounter with the second princess seemed to sour Chris’ mood. 

The second princess was a peculiar one, too. If she didn’t treat himself and the Nightshade delegation with respect, then he would have assumed she hated his kind and his people. But perhaps she was just an exceptional actress, hiding her disdain behind polite smiles, a notion Han found doubtful.

His gaze flicked to Chris. But now it just seemed like the second princess simply didn’t get along with his prince. ──────────────────────── The royal dinner that evening was far more intimate than the grand affair Prince Christopher had attended on his first night in the Elysium Kingdom. This time, it was just the royal family and their close extensions. All guards had been ordered to remain outside the dinner hall.

Thus, Chris found himself missing the familiar presence of Han trailing behind him. 

Instead though, his attention was drawn to the discomforted expressions Y/N struggled to mask with strained smiles. Ones she thought she hid well behind polite smiles and curt gestures.

Determined to be more assertive, Chris had taken the advice Y/N had given him the night of the banquet and endeavored to make his presence felt. He had caught the cautious yet curious glances from the Elysium King. 

Despite this, his focus kept returning to Y/N. Over and over again, he grew increasingly annoyed.

Chris found himself mentally reprimanding himself. Reminding his wandering eyes that the only woman he should be stealing glimpses of was his princess.

Sienna, her radiant smile and an unwavering glimmer in her eyes as she acknowledged him were the only things that should have been distracting him.

The Nightshade Prince suddenly decided he did not care what expressions the second princess would make.

He didn’t care if she was hurt. It was none of his concern. She had chosen this for herself, her subtle pained expressions were her own responsibility.

Yes. Avoid her, he told himself.

Yet, his jaw tightened as he watched her stagger, only to be caught by Prince Hyunjin, who immediately let go once she was grounded, and bowed apologetically for his impoliteness.

There was a clench in his stomach, one he couldn’t quite understand.

Despite Chris’ efforts to ignore Y/N’s evident pain, it was impossible not to notice her struggle. 

As the dinner finally drew to a close and guests began to disperse, Y/N managed to somehow send her guard away, claiming she wanted to ensure the night ended perfectly. Although she couldn’t even recall exactly what she had said, the throbbing sensation on her shoulder making her feel overwhelmed.

Once he was gone, she leaned against the wall, exhaling sharply and bracing herself for the journey back to the West Wing and back into her chambers.

She was finally alone.

She thought she was alone, until her vision hazed for a second, and she staggered in her steps. The Sylancrest Prince’s grip on her upper arm steadied her, his eyes filled with both surprise and concern.

His guard, Seungmin, rushed forward, looking between the flustered prince and the equally stunned Y/N.

   “Forgive me, Princess. I couldn’t help myself.” Hyunjin said, bowing apologetically, his stance suddenly rigid.

   “Are you…alright?” His question was tinged with the same concern she’d seen when he gripped her.

Y/N quickly masked her fear of being caught, composing herself and dipping her head in response. 

   “Thank you, Prince Hyunjin. I must have just misstepped.” Another lie that slipped out easily.

Hyunjin took a moment to ensure she was alright before glancing at Seungmin then searching around for the familiar face of her guard. 

   “You shouldn’t be wandering alone, Princess Y/N. Is your guard not around to escort you back?” His gaze then shifted to Prince Christopher and Han, who were approaching.

Y/N stiffened. Here was the man she longed to see. 

Yet here he was, the last man she wanted to see in such a condition. 

She was going to eat her words from this afternoon if she didn’t find an excuse to depart from here soon, the pain of her wound already making her tremble.

   “Is everything quite alright?” Han asked, his eyes darting among the familiar faces with concern.

   “The princess needs to be escorted back to her chambers.” Prince Hyunjin nodded, glancing between the Princess and Chris.

His concern seemed to focus more on her safe return than the strained expression on her face. An expression that seemed to be apparent only to Chris, whose gaze remained sharply fixed on her. Suddenly he found himself opening his mouth, speaking before he could even truly understand what he was saying.

   “Does the princess mind if an uncivilized Nightshade Warrior escorts her back?” Prince Christopher’s words were laced with a taunting edge. 

A tone that makes the Sylvancrest men share a glance.

Of course, Y/N couldn’t refuse now. Not that she wanted to either, anything that would allow her to leave their watchful gazes. So she forced a thin smile and curtsied. 

   “I would be grateful.” She conceded. 

Her easy acceptance unsettled Chris. He had expected her to argue, to insist she was fine and needed no assistance. He expected the stubborn Princess from this afternoon, happily standing in front of an arrow. Yet, all he could think about was how her willingness to accept help, only suggested she was in more pain than she let on.

Chris’ expression hardened.

   “My guard will ensure you return safely Princess.” He stated curtly.

Han fell into step behind Y/N, glancing back once at Chris and Hyunjin before they disappeared from view.

While his personal guard was on an unexpected escort mission, the Nightshade Crown Prince found himself under the scrutiny of the Sylvancrest men. 

It was a risky position.

A Crown Prince standing alone on foreign grounds, observed by representatives of another nation without the protection of his own guard. Yet, the reputation of the Nightshade and his own Warrior Prince title gave Chris a measure of confidence. 

After all, what threat could a pretty boy and his lone guard pose?

Still, he kept his guard up. He turned to observe the Sylvancrest men, noting Hyunjin’s lingering gaze on the path the second princess had taken, a detail the sharp-eyes warrior easily caught. He cleared his throat, gaze flickering towards Seungmin who took a step behind his prince.

   “Do you believe we’re being watched?” Chris’ question took Hyunjin by surprise. 

The Sylvancrest Prince instinctively glanced around, his eyes scanning for any unseen observers who might be keeping an eye on them, an idea Chris wouldn’t put past the Elysium court. Even though Chris himself didn’t sense a specific presence lurking in the shadows, one can never be too cautious.

   “I would not be surprised if we were. We are just visitors who are neither friends nor foe.” Hyunjin stated, The three men fell into a steady pace, with Seungmin trailing a few steps behind.

   “Nightshade has never been a friend to this kingdom, and I doubt it ever will be. We might as well be considered foes. Surely the wary gazes and guarded stance of the royal family haven’t escaped your notice, Prince Hyunjin.” Chris remarked, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

Hyunjin did not respond to confirm, yet his silence was confirmation in itself.

   “The Elysium King is untrustworthy…” Chris continued, his eyes tracking Hyunjin’s reaction, gauging whether it was a shared observation.

   “This whole celebration seems like a front. Any competent person would come to a similar conclusion.” His tone remained casual, as if discussing something trivial rather than making potentially inflammatory comments about a foreign kingdom on its own soil.

Hyunjin blinked in surprise, his gaze shifting to Seungmin before returning to Chris. A surprised look that reminded the warrior prince of Y/N. From the night of the royal banquet, back in the garden. 

Chris’ friendly demeanor faded, replaced by a more serious expression.

   “You are a Prince. A representative of Sylvancrest. You should not be wary of speaking your mind on Elysium’s soil. Because you are not beneath them.” Chris stated, his words curt, yet full of sense.

Truth be told, Chris found himself slightly irritated by the Sylvancrest Prince’s overly polite demeanor towards the Elysium royals, especially given their dismissive behavior towards him. He recalled the tea time where Ian barely acknowledged Hyunjin’s presence.

Perhaps it was in Hyunjin’s nature.

Perhaps his rank as the fourth prince hadn’t hardened him like it would if he were to be the heir apparent.

Despite this, Chris noticed that his words had affected Hyunjin, the way he looked at him wasn’t unfriendly.

Meanwhile, Han was uncertain about the purpose behind his Prince’s decision to send him as a shadow to Princess Y/N.

Perhaps Chris sought deeper insight into her. Or perhaps he was driven by a sudden curiosity, a suspicion sparked by the afternoon’s events.

The Nightshade guard studied the second princess, who carried herself gracefully with every step.

   “I truly hope you are enjoying your stay here, Sir Han.” Her words cut through his observing gaze, making him blink.

   “Y-yes. I’ve learnt a lot in the past few days about the Elysium Kingdom.” He was polite.

She truly did not need to make small talk with him. Here, even now, she clearly took her duty with importance.

There was nothing outwardly suspicious about her. Aside from the slight sharp intake of breath betraying her pain, she appeared poised and competent.

Han’s gaze softened as he watched her from his position behind. He suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her. 

For the things he’s overheard, overseen. 

She was rumored to be a princess, guarded and sheltered. 

Yet she wasn’t a weak princess, and neither was she guarded or sheltered. She was simply…forgotten, it seemed.

But Princess Y/N was a competent princess. Perhaps even more so than his Prince’s princess, he had to admit.

An observation that Y/N was never able to make herself.

After returning to his guest chambers, the Nightshade Prince found himself deep in contemplation.

Chris didn’t realize how deeply today’s events would affect him, and it frustrated him.

He had witnessed injuries before. He had seen blood, even watched warriors get pierced by arrows, slashed by swords during training sessions, hunting trips, in the White Mountains. Yet, Y/N’s pained expression, which she tried so hard to conceal amid the dinner’s bustle, kept flashing before his eyes, gnawing at his thoughts.

He shouldn’t be this worried about some foreign princess. 

A scowling princess who clearly had a distaste for him. 

A stubborn princess who chose to put herself in danger.

A rival princess who was nothing like the woman he’d given his heart to.

The woman who had given his heart to.

Suddenly the memory of Y/N sitting in the garden, reclining beneath the gazebo, absentmindedly toying with her earring while absorbed in her novel, resurfaced in his mind.

Prince Christopher inhaled deeply.

   “Get yourself together Chan.” He muttered, fingers gripping at the crystal bird tightly, shutting his eyes to recall Sienna and her graceful smile.

For the first time in quite a while, he pained to meet his princess, the woman he loved. For the first time he had to remind himself to picture her image. To rid him from the thoughts of another, whose pain seemed to plague his mind.

He had resolved that night that the Second Princess would no longer be a concern for him.

However, even his own thoughts seemed to betray him.

Chris had always been adept at sneaking past guards and gates. But with his grueling training and experience, his secret ventures were bolder than simply infiltrating the Queen’s palace grounds.

Only hours later, the foreign prince was committing a crime that would have dire consequences if he were to get caught. Suddenly finding himself wandering in the cool of the night.

He was sure Minho had spotted him on his exit out. He was sure the Midnight Captain would find Han, his guard would be waiting for him upon his return with that frustrated expression that made Chris feel guilty. Still, he continued his self-appointed mission.

The Nightshade Prince scanned the darkness around him, ensuring he remained unseen, though confident there was no one nearby to catch him anyway.

He moved with practiced stealth, scaling the tree outside the balcony with ease. The soldiers patrolling the West Wing Palace were distant, making it a straightforward task for the warrior prince. His movements up the branches were swift and silent, finding secure footholds until he reached a vantage point near the balcony’s stone railing.

From there, he could see into her room.

The bedchamber of the second Princess.

The curtains were pulled back, which allowed dim moonlight to filter through, casting a soft glow inside.

His brows relaxed as he caught sight of her.

His eyes focused on Y/N’s silhouette standing before a large mirror, a faint grimace on her face. It seemed he had arrived at the right moment.

Although somewhere in his mind he knew that nothing about this was right.

Princess Y/N delicately adjusted the fabric of her nightdress. There was a messy heap of bandages splayed on the dresser, a scissor ready to trim to the amount she needed. Chris continues to watch with a look of wonder on his face. 

It was fascinating almost, to see a sight of a woman so exposed for the first time in his life. Yet he was painfully aware of how disgusting this was. How perverse his presence here seemed, even if his intentions were not so.

It was wrong of him to watch a maiden in the privacy of her chambers, dressed in nothing but her nightwear. 

It was wrong to watch a princess from outside her balcony. 

Yet, an inexplicable draw kept him rooted in place, captivated by the sight before him.

The Second Princess seemed to have that constant effect on him.

She hissed in pain as she inspected her injury, her brows furrowing in frustration. The sound of her low voice pierced the quiet of the night, out into the night, snapping Chris back to reality. Reminding him that he was here with a purpose.

He focused on the still-bloody wound on her shoulder, his concern growing palpable.

Without hesitation, he leaped from the tree branch onto the balcony railing, his strong hands effortlessly pulling himself up onto the flat surface.

The sudden movement caught her attention. Her eyes widened in shock as she glimpsed at his figure in the reflection of the mirror. For a moment, their gazes locked in mutual surprise.

Despite the intrusion, Y/N didn’t scream. Instead, she swiftly spun around on her heels, her hands frozen around the sleeve of her nightdress, ready to confront her unexpected visitor.

   “Y-your highness!” She exclaimed in a shocked whisper, instinctively trying to cover herself, which inadvertently caused herself more pain as she grazed the injured spot, followed by soft, painful hisses.

Chris took swift steps forward, entering her quarters through the open balcony. His hand extended to offer assistance, but froze midway. Realizing.

Their eyes met in the dimly lit room, both acutely aware of the impropriety of the situation. The potential consequences, if her chambermaid, or one of her mother’s attendants or even her guard were to walk in unexpectedly.

Yet, in that moment, Chris couldn’t tear his gaze away from the wound on her shoulder. Formalities and protocol faded into insignificance.

Chris could not convince himself to take a step back.

   “Let me help you, at least listen to me once.” He emphasized before she could boldly reject like she had in the afternoon.

   “No. It isn’t right.” She whispered. “You shouldn’t be here. What if someone catches you, or-or what if my mai—“

   “No one will find out.” He cut her off, paranoia still strong in her expression.

   “I’m a warrior. I can hear footsteps from miles away, did you forget?” He cocked his head with a somewhat smug smile. 

It seemed to be enough to sort of calm her, though she was doubtful about the “miles away” part.

Slowly, Y/N lowered her hands from her injured shoulder, her arms falling to her sides as she nodded hesitantly. Chris pressed his lips together in determination and took a hesitant step closer. Then another one, until he was close enough to graze his hand against the fabric of her nightgown. She stiffened, yet allowed him to continue.

Chris’ fingers delicately grasped the sleeve of her nightdress and gently pushed it down, ensuring not to hurt her, exposing the injured skin underneath. She shivered involuntarily as his cold fingers made contact with her warm flesh.

His eyes shoot to study her delicate expression before settling back on the cut. The intimacy of their position was palpable, a situation that could spark scandal if they were discovered. Yet all Christ saw was an injured bunny, shivering under his touch.

His calloused fingers grazed soft, and surprisingly gentle, brows knitting at the sight of her raw wound.

Though it was just a graze from the metal tip of the sharp arrowhead, it didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. He sighed, bringing the satchel that hung lowly around his torso forward, and rummaging through it. Her eyes stared in wonder, the Prince had come prepared.

   “We have to clean it before applying anything on it.” Chris muttered quietly, almost to himself, as he focused on the task at hand.

She watched him with a mixture of amusement and awe, a faint blush coloring her cheeks at the anticipation of his fingers touching her skin again, warm and gentle. Y/N trusted Chris. More than she let on.

Perhaps even with her life.

His jaw tightened with concentration as he applied antiseptic to a piece of gauze, before bringing it towards her injury.

   “It’ll sting a bit.” He warned, his eyes flickering from the inujury to her observant gaze.

   “I’ll manage.” She replied briskly, but of course her resolve faltered with a sharp intake of breath as the antiseptic made contact with her wound.

Chris’ expression softened briefly, a flicker of empathy crossing his features. He had tried to spare her this discomfort, he had attempted to prevent her from even standing against Ian, but she had stubbornly refused.

Chris wrestled with conflicting emotions as he tended to her wound. He couldn’t shake the sense of anger simmering within him.

How could the Crown Prince, responsible for the safety of his people, jeopardize them for what seemed like amusement? 

How can the princess be so reckless, allowing herself to get hurt in such a stupid way?

These were just some of the thoughts that plagued his mind ever since the incident. Ever since he could only see her and only her, afterwards. Chris was sure if he didn’t sneak in here he would have dreamt of her and her damn injury.

And now, here he was, in the private chambers of a princess, risking her reputation and his own standing.

Chris resented how she stirred this protective instinct in him. Her seemingly carefree attitude towards the dangers surrounding her, only fueled his frustration.

He took a deep breath, trying to quell his anger. Or the thoughts that question what he was even doing here in the first place.

Perhaps it was his sense of duty and compassion, the healer within him, that compelled him to act despite the risks.

A Nightshade warrior. A Nightshade healer. A leader, a protector.

Yes, that was it.

With a frown, he pulled back the handkerchief that had cleaned off most of the dried blood from her wound. Still gentle actions amidst the frustration that bubbled in him.

Princess Y/N glanced at it briefly before he disposed of the soiled cloth and continued searching through his bag.

   “This salve is used by soldiers in the training field.” He stated, pulling out a small container.

Uncapping it revealed a pale green cream that Chris doesn’t hesitate to swipe onto his fingers.

   “It has a numbing agent that will help you at least get a good night’s rest, and if you apply it throughout the day, will quicken the recovery process.” His explanations helped the quiet girl, still in his loose grasp. 

But that was not what the princess was wondering.

   “Why did you suddenly show up at this ungodly hour to apply medicine on my wound?” Her gaze was peering, his eyes flickered between the cream and her before he took a closer step.

An action that makes her straighten, reminding herself of their close proximity, something he was seemingly unbothered by.

   “An injury from an arrow can kill even a warrior of Nightshade, and you’re just a princess.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

It was true, but it wasn’t the entire truth behind his forbidden presence here.

Chris could never admit that her injury had weighed on his mind all evening, that her pained expression had haunted him whenever he attempted to close his eyes to finally sleep. He would of dreamt of her, he was sure of it.

Y/N remained quiet, absorbing his care and concern despite the…unconventional circumstances.

Gently smoothing the salve onto her wound, Chris ensured it covered every side, his touch careful. Y/N watched him silently, feeling the soothing coolness of the salve easing the burning pain she had endured, the pads of his fingers grazing ever so gently.

Chris glanced up at her face, noticing the pallor of her lips and the signs of cold sweat on her brow. It was clear she was suffering, possibly even beginning to develop a fever from bearing the pain. Despite her discomfort, she hadn’t uttered a single complaint.

Anger flared within Chris anew, as if every time he discovered a new side of her discomfort, the angrier he got.

His frustration was not just at the situation but also at her stubborn resilience. She bore the pain quietly, refusing to acknowledge her own distress.

It irked him that she seemed to endure such hardships without protest, as if she didn’t value her own well-being enough to seek help sooner.

He wanted to scold her. To nag at her for her risky decisions. Yet he was in no place to do any of that.

Everything she did irritated him, sticking to his thoughts like a parasite.

But as he continued to apply the salve, his touch slight and caring, he also felt a twinge of admiration for that same stubborn resilience. She may have been a princess, sheltered from many hardships, but she possessed a bravery that deserved respect. Something even some Nightshade Warriors lacked prior to any formal training.

His conflicting emotions simmered beneath the surface as he finished treating her wound, silently hoping the salve would bring her some relief.

   “How did you get up here?” Y/N’s voice carried more volume now, her initial anxiety giving way to curiosity.

Chris blinked, momentarily taken aback by her direct question that brought him out his thoughts. He shifted his focus from her questioning eyes, to the open balcony behind him, where he had entered her chambers.

   “I climbed.” He replied curtly, as he placed the jar of salve on the table, which had now become a makeshift first aid station.

Chris picked up the string of bandages, preparing to tend to her wound further. While Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow, a gesture she would have emphasized with crossed arms she wasn’t injured.

   “That doesn’t help dispel rumors of the Bahng being beasts in the night.” The curious princess muttered to herself, though her words were clear enough for him to hear.

Chris paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the seriousness of the situation.

He suddenly recalled her novel, its cheesy title.

Her comment only made him think about the teasing thoughts that crossed his mind once he picked up the book that currently sat on the dresser in his room. Her comment was innocent, yet he raised a brow.

A prince sneaking into a princess’s chambers was indeed scandalous.

   “I know I bragged about coming from a romantic clan, but I assure you, I’m not truly a beast.” He remarked lightly, his gaze meeting hers with tease and amusement.

Of course she understood, the look in his eyes a clear giveaway. There was a flush of heat rising to Y/N’s cheeks as she realized the implication of Chris’ words.

   “T-That’s not what I mean—” She started to clarify, but Chris broke into a small chuckle at her innocent reaction. 

A sound that made the second princess stare at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected sight of his smile. She had forgotten how his smile looked up close after all these years. 

Had he always had that prominent of dimples? 

And was his smile always this captivating? 

In recent days, she had seen him smile, but none of those smiles had been directed at her.

A pang of longing squeezed her chest, and she quickly averted her gaze from his face.

Chris sensed the shift in her mood but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he gently began wrapping the bandage around her shoulder, his touch tender and comforting.

   “Our clan learned from the beasts of the night, so the rumors aren’t entirely untrue. Besides who wouldn’t want to be compared to a ferocious creature, just the thought of it is enough to scare away enemies.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

She nodded, amazed at the way he thinks. And even more so amazed that she was no longer feeling the stinging pain on her shoulder. That salve was absolute magic.

   “It doesn’t hurt!” She remarked in surprise, her wide fascinated eyes fixed on him as if seeking confirmation.

Chris couldn’t help but be reminded of his earlier comparison, seeing her now as a small rabbit in the presence of a supposed beast. He managed to contain another chuckle.

   “I told you, it has a numbing agent. That means it’s working.” He explained with a gentle smile, his eyes meeting hers warmly.

As Chris finally finished wrapping Y/N’s shoulder and trimmed off the excess bandage, he stepped back, his hands finally dropping to his sides. He inspected his work, reassured that the bandaging would suffice to ease his concerns about her injury, thoughts that might otherwise have kept him awake all night.

A brief silence settled between them. A silence that stretched as they stood their almost awkward all of a sudden. Y/N swiftly pulled her sleeve back up, a gesture that underscored the impropriety of their encounter, all over again. Chris cleared his throat, breaking the silence, while Y/N turned slightly, suddenly self-conscious of her attire.

   “Remember, apply the salve throughout the day.” Chris reminded her softly, pressing his lips into a thin smile as he gestured towards the ointment on the table.

As Chris turned to head back towards the balcony, Y/N’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

   “Wait—are you going to jump? From here?!” Her shock was evident, as if she had momentarily forgotten their conversation about the Nightshade Warriors mimicking beastly tactics.

   “Well, I can’t exactly go out the front door now, can I? Should I get caught and confess about our nightly rendezvous?” Chris teased, his tone playful and light-hearted.

Taken aback by his cheeky response, Y/N quickly composed herself, standing straight and bowing her head slightly.

   “Please, Your Highness, please jump off my balcony. Y/N replied with mock formality, adding a dramatic curtsy for emphasis.

This time, Chris couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his lips. He let his head drop slightly to hide it, clearing his throat before responding in mock seriousness.

   “That was the plan. Now, goodnight, Princess. I hope you feel better in the morning.” He nodded, turning around and preparing to jump down from the balcony. Which he does, his descent from the stone rails almost graceful.

Y/N gasped as Chris jumped from her balcony, despite knowing his intention. She hurried to the edge and peered down anxiously, watching him land easily on a large branch of the tree and then onto the lush grass below. He glanced up at her, a smirk dancing on his lips, before disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Y/N scanned her surroundings, ensuring there was indeed no one else nearby.

A torrent of emotions flooded her mind. From the moment he had snuck into her room to now, she had witnessed different facets of this warrior prince who had always been aloof and curt towards her and the rest of the royals and nobles, except her sister. It saddened her to think that Sienna received his charming smiles and intense gazes.

Why couldn’t she just tell him how she felt? About who she truly was.

Why couldn’t he recognize her? Connect the dots as easily as he caught onto other things.

Bitterness welled up inside her.

Y/N turned back to her room, her heart heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The night had brought them closer in unexpected ways, yet the divide between them seemed insurmountable.

With a heavy heart, the second princess closed the balcony doors behind her. The night air was cool as Chris climbed through the window back into his room at Ruby Hall. Like he had concluded, his personal guard paced his quarters.

Ever dutiful and ever exasperated, stilled with surprise once he caught sight of the sheepish expression on Chris’ face, his own expression a mix of concern and annoyance.

   “My Prince, please. You must stop doing this to me.” Han pleaded quietly, his voice a mixture of fatigue and annoyance.

Chris, still smirking from his successful escapade, undid the ties of his dark blouse and settled on the edge of his bed. 

   “I was quick.” He chuckled smugly, clearly pleased with himself.

Han groaned, even in foreign palaces this prince of his has no fear of wandering off. The guard almost lost it when Minho had shown up in the dark of his room to notify him of Prince Christopher’s… nightly excursion.

Yet he leaned back, eyeing the bag of supplies Chris had dropped on the dresser. 

   “You can return now, you’ve done a good job.” Chris remarked pointedly.

   “I always do a good job.” Han retorted, but his gaze was back on the satchel.

   “Don’t tell me you snuck out to meet Princess Sienna and exchange desserts at this hour of the night!” Han exclaimed, his exhaustion making his tone more exasperated than accusatory.

These days he recalled the two royals had grown closer, exchanging foods and desserts, kindling a friendship perhaps over tea, much like they did as children. Though it would still be inappropriate to choose now of all times for small talk and tea.

However, while the guard pondered his thoughts, the Nightshade Prince stiffened at the remark. Chris’ smile faltered, and his eyes widened slightly as a sudden realization took hold.

Sienna.

His Princess.

The first princess, who he had forgotten all about.

A sudden dryness gripped his throat, and had Han not called his name to bring him out of his thoughts, he probably would have figured out why that was.

   “Did you really go to see her?” Han pressed once more.

Chris shook his head, as if shaking away the anxious thoughts.

   “That would be very inappropriate. I’m a Prince, I would never sneak around to meet a princess in the middle of the night.” He lied smoothly because that’s exactly what he did.

   “Besides, Princess Sienna doesn’t remember me yet. It would probably be more than a little weird, possibly even terrifying, if I showed up out of the blue with cookies.”

Han sighed deeply, his worry evident despite his master’s casual demeanor. 

   “Just, next time, please let me know before prancing off.” He requested once again, resigned to the fact that Chris would continue with his antics regardless. 

As Han exited the room, he stood for a moment outside the closed doors, his mind racing. The faint scent of medicine still lingered in the air, from his prince, sparking his curiosity further. He knew Chris well enough to sense when something was amiss. 

Han could only think of one person who was injured enough for his prince to offer medicine.

His prince did sneak off to see a Princess.

Though she was not the one who he claimed to love. ──────────────────────── The Sylvancrest Prince found himself unexpectedly seated in the King’s personal study, facing the Elysium King himself.

The situation was nerve-wracking. Seungmin been left behind at the study’s threshold, while Hyunjin had been led through the grand corridors by a stern King’s guardsman. Now, he sat in the suffocating silence that had settled between them.

Finally, the King cleared his throat and gestured to the liquor set between them, which a servant had placed upon his arrival. 

   “It’s quite late, Your Highness.” Hyunjin declined politely, feeling an internal urge to stay sober for whatever purpose had brought him here.

   “Was there something particular you needed from me?” He asked.

A smile spread across the Elysium King’s face, almost eerie in its intent, hinting at something concealed beneath the surface. The King reached for his glass, took a sip, and then leaned back in his chair.

   “The Sylvancrest Kingdom has indeed become a thriving nation, prospering these days. But how long do you think this prosperity will last?” He began, causing Prince Hyunjin to raise an eyebrow, puzzled by the direction of the conversation.

   “Sylvancrest boasts about grand seaports and vital trade routes. As a leader who values trade and business myself, I must tell you that maritime trade has its limitations.” The Elysium King continued.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, trying to manage his growing frustration. Suddenly he recalled Prince Christopher’s words from earlier that evening.

   “Forgive my directness, but what exactly are you trying to convey?” His gaze was sharp now, a stark contrast to the polite demeanor he had maintained since his arrival.

   “I propose forming an alliance. One that would be mutually beneficial for both Elysium and Sylvancrest. Perhaps allow you to access trade routes on land.” The King finally declared.

The room fell into a tense silence as the foreign prince processed the sudden proposal.

   “It does not make sense.” Hyunjin finally said, breaking the silence. 

   “I am merely the fourth prince of my nation, not even in line for the throne. I’m not the one you should be offering such…alliances to.”

The Elysium King chuckled, a chilling sound that sent a shiver down Hyunjin’s spine. 

Sinister and calculating.

   “Elysium can help you become the only one truly worthy of claiming your throne.” ──────────────────────── Chris knew it was a dream.

There was no way he had returned to her balcony. Yet everything felt so vivid. The night chill raised goosebumps on his arms, even beneath the black attire that concealed him in the dark, the curtains leading into her room flowed freely with the gust of winds.

He knew it was a dream.

Princess Y/N smiled at him.

Far from the scowl he was used to seeing. Her eyes meet his through the reflection of the mirror she stood before, dressed in nothing but a nightgown.

The one Chris remembered feeling silky to touch.

His gaze flickered to the shoulder he had bandaged, only to find it completely unblemished, bare shoulders glowing for his eyes to take in.

And no sign of injury at all.

It was a dream.

Still, the Nightshade Prince took a step forward, then another, and one more. Until he was just inches from her.

His chest heaved, throat dry. Eyes trailing over details of her he missed in reality. Details his subconscious had seemed to etch into memory.

   “Prince Christopher.” Her voice was a whisper, delicate and soft in the quiet of her dimly lit chambers. 

The furniture seemed to glimmer faintly under the candlelight and moonlight, more details that Chris had likely conjured up in his mind for the sake of this vivid, unsettling dream.

Still, the foreign prince reached out daringly, his fingers grazing the warmth of her jaw. The skin was searingly hot against his touch. 

The Nightshade Prince had only read the title of that novel she had left behind, yet here he was, dreaming of committing such forbidding acts that were straight out of a love story. Even if it was all in his mind.

He swallowed hard and leaned in, finally capturing her lips in a soft, passionate kiss. Their breaths mingling in the heated moment.

The press of her plush lips on his, had sent a jolt through his entire body.

A jolt so strong, he had pulled himself back to reality.

It was nothing but a dream.

Chris woke up panting, his eyes wide as he stared at the dark covers. The back of his hand flew to his lips, covering them as his eyes stared into nothingness.

It replayed again in his mind.

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to dispel such lewd thoughts that emerged.

Grasping the crystal bird in his clammy hand, he tried to calm the erratic pounding of his heart, attempting to rid himself of the lingering sensations of the imaginary kiss and the softness in Y/N’s voice as she whispered his name.

The warrior prince did end up dreaming about her. Though not in the way he had thought.

No way. 

How could he dream of such a thing?

   “Fuck. Get yourself together, Chan.” He muttered for the second time, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration.

Then he realized the thoughts did not subside.

Instead his heart beat quickened at an erratic beat that made him anxious.

A part of his mind attempted to push him into another slumber. Into another dream where he could return back to the Princess, her chambers.

To her lips.

No way.

   “How-how could I…fall for her? How could I fall for the wrong princess?”

Suddenly his eyes widened with a new fear, one the warrior prince had never felt before.

This night was a special one. 

As the second princess gazed at her reflection in self-pity in her chambers, the Nightshade Prince grappled with his own unsettling thoughts. Both remained unaware of the Elysium King’s sinister schemes. Behind closed doors, the King was orchestrating something harrowing with the seemingly naive Sylvancrest Prince.

Indeed, the night was special. ─────────────────────── to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump, @ellelabelle, @gaslasyttune, @qwonyoung23, @minh0scat, @candyquokka, @sellomaybe

I'll never recover from this, seriously.

There are no pictures or words I can say to describe my feelings about it 🫠

I'm very happy and proud of the confidence he has now 💘

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee know x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> swearing, y/n is cheated on, references to sex/suggestive, y/n doesn't have a good relationship with her family

taglist rules -> CLOSED!

MASTERLIST

INTROS -> Y/N & CO , APT 143 , OTHER

CH 1 -> BREAKUP

CH 2 -> LONELY ST. APARTMENTS

CH 3 -> AM I IN?

CH 4 -> JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

CH 5 -> BAD BITCH ENERGY

CH 6 -> LIVE A LITTLE

CH 7 -> WORKPLACE ROMANCES

CH 8 -> EXS AND OHS

CH 9 -> IS THIS A DATE?

CH 10 -> TAKE IT SLOW

CH 11 -> NEXT STEPS

CH 12 -> FAILED ROMANTIC ESCAPADES

CH 13 -> IT'S... COMPLICATED

CH 14 -> I'M THE PROBLEM?

CH 15 -> LIKE IT USED TO BE

CH 16 -> BIG MISTAKES

CH 17 -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE

CH 18 -> LISTEN TO ME

CH 19 -> OPERATION MINJI

CH 20 -> UNWANTED MEMORIES

CH 21 -> COMFORT ME

CH 22 -> BEFORE

CH 23 -> I MISS YOU

CH 24 -> Y/N TIME

CH 25 -> MOVE IN DAY

CH 26 -> OPPORTUNITIES

CH 27 -> BIG STEPS

CH 28 -> AMERICA?

CH 29 -> COMPLICATED

CH 30 -> BABY FEVER

CH 31 -> LIKE LIKE

waiting for us — masterlist pt 2: electric boogaloo

pairing. OT8 x fem!reader synopsis. At age 16 you either get your soul mark (in the form of your soulmates name somewhere on your body) or you become a blank, someone who doesn't have a soulmate. You've long lost any semblance of hope or comfort in the magic of soulmates, despite the fact that you have 8 of them. genre. soulmate!au, college!au, social media!au + written parts, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut cw. swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos, skz should be in horny jail, eventual smut (MDNI), domestic abuse, sexual assault/harassment, implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal tendencies/thoughts, implied/referenced past suicide attempt, male x male relationships (skz are soulmates), polyamory, kms/kys jokes, mentions of homophobia + transphobia, lots of written parts, reader is really bad at feelings, ulzzang pics (this is more so to focus on the fashion), appearance of junhao, yeji and hyunjin are siblings, more to be added wanna support my work? consider buying me a coffee.

go back to masterlist part one. Chapter forty one. sunset Chapter forty two. ferret coded Chapter fourty three. more rumours Chapter forty three point five. a talk w/ hyune Chapter forty four. to nationals Chapter forty five. andong Chapter forty six. moonlight (s) Chapter forty seven. congrats on the sex Chapter forty eight. concern Chapter forty nine. afterparty Chapter fifty. +8 Chapter fifty one. the wedding (s) Chapter fifty two. jypapi Chapter fifty three. the thread Chapter fifty four. waiting for us Chapter fifty four point five. threats Chapter fifty five. time skip Chapter fifty six. silence bottom Chapter fifty seven. showcase prep Chapter fifty eight. the winter showcase

bonus chapters: everyone's sexual preferences. thirst tweets. handsome boys. size boyfriend day! memes part one | part two alignment charts the bet of who's gonna kick mio's brothers ass.

i found a gem of a series ohmygod I AM SEATED I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

u guys dont know how bad ive been looking for a chan au and I FOUND THIS GEM RIGHT HEREEE!! author, i love u i'll be waiting for the next updates 🫶

Crystal Bird - Chapter 5

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, parental abuse, somewhat proofread A/N: It gets better, I promise! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ───────────────────

The warrior prince of Nightshade had finally found his princess, and for a fleeting moment, he could almost feel the intense worry that had gripped his heart over the years, begin to lift. 

Yet, as quickly as the relief settled in, it was overtaken by another, more unsettling emotion.

Confusion.

Chris’ momentary happiness was cut short as he watched Princess Sienna bid farewell with a formal nod after their introduction. The light in his eye morphing into a panic as Sienna dipped for a low curtsy. Her arm gently nudged the second princess, who had been momentarily dazed, and they both began moving toward the next circle of nobles to greet. 

The warrior prince’s eyes followed her form, before his attention shifted to Han. They exchanged a look that mirrored each other’s bewilderment, both clearly taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. 

By the lack of acknowledgment.

But before Chris could voice his thoughts to his guard, he was approached by another young lady. She gazed at him with a blend of awe and trepidation and a bit of lingering fear.

   “G-good evening, Prince Christopher. I am Alyssa Miller, daughter of Count Miller.” She introduced herself.

Chris stared at her for a moment, before giving her a curt nod. He had briefly met her and her father the evening before at dinner. But he didn’t care enough to recall her name. Yet, here she stood, clearly intrigued by the Nightshade prince, looking at him as if he were some animal in a zoo.

A brief silence settled between them. The young lady awkwardly fidgeted with her gloves, while Han eyed his stoic prince, void of any emotion on his face.

   “Have you taken to the dance floor yet, Prince Christopher?” Alyssa continued, her rigid but shy demeanor stealing glances at the composed warrior.

   “I have not.” Chris responded curtly.

   “Would you like to—”

Her eyes faltered at the sight of the familiar pendant hanging on his neck, gaze narrowing. Something that did not go unnoticed by the defensive foreign prince.

Did she also recognize it? What was going on?

   “First Princess Sienna had something just like this.” Her lips had thinned into a thoughtful smile, trying to recall that afternoon.

   “My father had collected it on one of his journeys and I had gifted it to her myself during a birthday celebration—but she had lost it.”

Alyssa’s recount of the story was automatic, Chris didn’t even have to attempt to get it out of her.

He finally had a backstory of this crystal pendant, he knew what came next. From the vivid memories he swore not to forget, to Han’s detailed explanation of that day.

The Princess had lost it while saving him that afternoon.

Sienna had left the crystal bird for him to find.

The crown prince of Nightshade raised a brow, crossing his arm over his chest.

   “How long has your father been on the King’s court?” Chris questioned.

His question caught Alyssa off guard, bringing her out of her memories, causing her to blink in surprise.

   “Uh-um, ever since I was born. I used to play with the princesses when I was a child.” She confessed, her eyes drifting towards where Sienna and Y/N had been.

   “...Though Princess Sienna doesn’t quite recall.” Alyssa added softly, her words piquing the interest of the stoic prince, his brows arching in curiosity.

This time Prince Christopher glanced back at Han, eyes subtly calling for the young guard to approach. Han quickly came to his prince’s side, a small smile playing on his lips.

   “You must be thirsty, Lady Alyssa. My guard here will fetch you a drink.” The Prince said, his tone softer this time.

   “Oh!— How can your personal guard do such a thing? There is no need.” Alyssa protested politely, stealing a glance at Han, who stood confident, a guard clearly of high rank.

   “I insist.” Chris replied, attempting to be charming, a demeanor he rarely adopted.

   “If you’re still hesitant, why don’t you come along, my lady. I can fetch my prince his drink instead.” Han suggested, his smile unwavering.

Alyssa appeared to be taken by the gentle smiles of these handsome yet mysterious foreign men, slowly nodding in agreement as Han gestures for her to lead the way. Christopher glanced at his guard once more, silently assigning a task.

The evening’s bustle grew louder as the nobles relaxed with more drinks, setting aside political discussions for idle gossip. And somehow Chris found himself wrapped up in it as well.

   “You know, I was quite surprised the Nightshade Kingdom even accepted an invitation.” One of the older noble men addressed, looking towards Prince Christopher, who somehow found himself amongst them.

Without his guard to deflect them, Chris sighed inwardly, resigned to joining their conversation, humoring whatever they talked about. 

   “You don’t speak much do you, your highness?” Another young noble, evidently from the Elysium King’s court, added.

   “I’m more of an observer.” Chris replied politely, finally asserting himself.

Count Miller, who Chris recalled from the previous night’s dinner, and Lady Alyssa’s father, let out a hearty laugh.

   “Of course. Observing is what the Nightshade warriors are good at. Like predators looking for their prey. Uncivilized and ready to attack.” He chuckled, and the group amongst them bellowed out with their laughter as well. 

The warrior prince’s brow twitched at the remark, his rigid posture prompting a few uncomfortable glances among the group. But he managed to hold his tongue.

Noticing the sudden tension, Count Miller patted the young noble besides him on the shoulder and turned to Chris with a grin.

   “Surely my jest didn’t offend you Prince Christopher?” The look on his face felt taunting almost.

The other men glanced at the foreign prince with unease, their thoughts likely drifting to the notorious reputation of the Nightshade Kingdom.

   “Of course not.” Chris replied with a smile, though his hands clenched in the pockets of his slacks.

The men chuckled in response, and some minutes later Prince Christopher seized the opportunity to excuse himself, citing the need for some fresh air.

He found himself in the back garden, one that he recalled seeing from his chambers at Ruby Hall. But the sight of pretty roses weren’t enough to calm his nerves. Anger was evident in his expression as he paced behind the hedges, muttering curses under his breath, his fingers tightening around the crystal bird pendant in an attempt to calm his nerves.

   “A jest? Ridiculous.” He muttered through gritted teeth, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. 

He was stewing in his anger, inhaling deeply to soothe the frustration. But the foreign prince’s brief moment of solitude was interrupted by approaching voices, pulling him back to reality. 

Did he appear suspicious standing alone out here?

Quickly, he tucked his necklace into his vest and melted into the shadows of the hedges. 

Yeah, definitely not suspicious. He chided himself silently.

   “You’ve gotten really bold lately.” Lady Katherine’s voice carried, though hushed, with unmistakable anger as she dragged Y/N along by the wrist, her grip tight.

   “How can you even speak out amongst them?” Lady Katherine continued her tirade.

Y/N glanced between her livid mother and her mother’s personal attendant. 

She wasn’t sure herself. 

What had come over her?

Y/N hadn’t intended to speak up, but witnessing the nobles’ mockery of the Nightshade warriors, even after Chan’s departure, had stirred something inside her.

A protectiveness that she guessed stemmed from her loyalty to a friendship she was too afraid to acknowledge, had led her to voice out her disapproval. Her legs automatically moved and she had found herself confronting the group of noble men.

   “Speaking in favor of those wild beasts isn’t something fit for a princess.” Her mother admonished sharply.

There were those words again. 

Fit for a princess. 

The words echoed in Y/N’s mind, a constant reminder of the expectations and scrutiny that plagued her every move. 

But why didn’t she feel like a princess? 

Especially today.

Tonight on the day where she was supposedly one of the main character’s of the banquet. The night where she was finally introduced as the second princess of this nation.

She didn’t feel like a Princess at all. 

And with Chan failing to recognize her this evening, she felt even less than. Y/N closed her eyes tightly for a brief moment, holding back the anger and hurt that simmered within her. 

   “My words were nothing but the truth. Surely you don’t believe belittling our honorable guests is acceptable? Besides I’ve asserted my power as second princess, you should be satisfied by my actions.” Y/N implored, her words hitting her mother like a challenge.

Lady Katherine stood momentarily speechless, visibly taken aback by her daughter’s defiance, the stubborn glint in her eyes. Things that were becoming too frequent.

Instead of responding, Katherine raised her hand as if to strike Y/N, a familiar threat when she couldn’t counter her daughter’s bold truths. Y/N closed her eyes, ready for the sting that came with it. However, the mother’s hand faltered at the sharp exclamation of her maid.

   “My lady, you mustn’t! The princess is still recovering from yesterday’s bruises.” The old maid interjected urgently, prompting Lady Katherine to glance at Y/N’s cheek, concealed under fading makeup.

Her mother’s hand dropped to her side with a frustrated “tsk,” the sound resonating in the quiet night air.

   “Have her maid take her back to her chambers, her wounds are becoming visible. I shouldn’t see her for the rest of the night.” Katherine spat, her words laced with displeasure, before turning sharply and stomping off toward the banquet hall.

The maid hesitated, caught between her duty and the tension in the air. 

   “S-stay here, Princess. I shall send for your maid.” She stammered, hurrying after Lady Katherine.

Finally left alone in the garden, silence stretched around Y/N. The second princess stood in her anger, shame, guilt, for a long while. She glanced around, feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

The hiding warrior prince stood puzzled in the shadows, staring wide ahead into the night, suddenly uncertain of his next move. There was an uneasy feeling in his chest from whatever he had stumbled upon unknowingly. 

Should he step out and confront the situation, or slip away into the hedges to find another route of escape from this awkward encounter? 

But before he could ponder further, he heard her footsteps drawing closer, stopping just a few feet away from the shadows he had concealed himself in. He scrunched his face, praying she would not turn his way, hoping that she would just stomp off.

   “Damn it.” She muttered, frustration evident in her voice as she ran a hand through her hair and sighed loudly.

Of course she doesn’t stomp off, the unmistakable sensation of being watched made her jolt, head swiftly turning towards the hedges. Y/N nearly gasped, hand clutching at her chest when she saw the Nightshade Prince step out of the dark bushes.

With a guilty expression plastered on his face, Chris cleared his throat awkwardly, searching for an excuse. He glanced around the garden attempting to come up with anything to say about his presence here. For hiding and ultimately eavesdropping.

   “P-Prince Christopher!” Y/N blurted out, before regaining her composure quickly.

   “Second Princess…” He addressed, her title still sounding strange and foreign no matter how aware of her existence he was.

   “What are you doing here? Are you lost?” She asks, attempting to divert his attention, though it was clear he had overheard her earlier conversation with her mother.

Chris caught himself, pretending he wasn’t glued to the darkness but was talking a nightly stroll and simply stumbled across her path. His gaze flickered toward the direction Lady Katherine and her maid had disappeared, then settled back on Y/N. 

   “I was out for some air. The atmosphere inside is quite stifling for a wild beast.” Chris remarked casually, his tone laced with a sudden hint of amusement, to ease the awkward, stuffy mood.

Her breath hitched at his words, realizing he had overheard more than she intended. Quickly regaining composure, she bowed slightly.

   “I apologize if what you have heard has offended you.”

   “Oh? Were you ladies having a discussion about me?” Chris countered with a feigned innocence, his eyes flicking toward the path the two older women had taken, once again.

   “Surely not.” Y/N lied with a practiced ease, mirroring his pretense.

   “I was referring to Count Miller’s words back then.” She continued

Chris stood impressed by how adeptly the so-called Second Princess handled the situation, even though both were aware of the source of his subtle remarks.

   “Do you not agree with Count Miller’s words as well? All of those nobles seemed to have quite a laugh at what he said. I’m sure it’s not different from what everyone here at Elysium believes to be true.” Chris pressed, a trace of frustration creeping into his voice.

   “It’s common for the noble folk to mock and taunt others in the pretense of a joke. They do it amongst themselves all the time. If you heed into it, you’ll become an easy target. The best thing to do is treat them in the same way. Or, use your authority.” Y/N states, just like she had done before her mother dragged her out here. 

Chris almost chuckled at her straightforwardness, but he maintained his stoic demeanor, studying her with intensity. For a weak princess who had been sheltered all her life, she was really bold. Her ideologies seemed to differ from those of the rest of the Elysium people he had encountered.

An eerily familiar feeling spreads through him.

The silence between them lingered briefly as he observed her, wondering who exactly was this second princess. But while the Nightshade Prince ponders in his thoughts, the second princess is battling her own feelings. A tug at her heart, the want to call out for her Chan.

   “D-Do you believe we’ve met before, Prince Christopher?” Y/N interjected, breaking the quiet with a hint of uncertainty, hint of something else.

Chris raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest.

   “Is this some sort of flirty remark used in your Elysium Kingdom?” He teased lightly, watching for her reaction with a faint amusement.

One which he easily gets with her stunned gaze, and lips parting slightly in shock.

Composing herself, she dropped her gaze, her voice quieter. “You simply looked… familiar.”

Part of her wished he would recognize her, wished she would clear his misunderstanding. While another part accepted that his failure to do so was probably for the best.

   “I have been in the White Mountains of the North for the past decade. It is highly unlikely we crossed paths, even more so for a Princess like yourself.” Chris replied, his demeanor returning to its usual composed state.

Her wonders of where he had disappeared, were finally answered. 

Of course she had questions, she had many questions but her voice refused to come out, mind and heart battling with conflicted thoughts and emotions. Her mother’s warnings, her own doubts and self-deprecating thoughts clashing against her want to pull her once only true friend into an embrace. 

Instead, she bowed her head. 

   “I must have made a mistake then.”

Chris softened slightly at the downturn of her expression, his brows easing as he stood upright. The familiar feeling gnawed at him. His heart hammered in his chest.

   “Have you ever ventured to the deep end of the Grand Forest river, Princess?” Chris asked, his tone serious, his eyes holding a mixture of earnestness and concern.

A doubtful worry.

A desperate attempt.

Y/N froze, feeling the weight of his question. Stiffening at his awaiting figure before she slowly glanced up to meet his gaze, uncertain of how to respond truthfully.

   “I have not.” She found herself lying, the words slipping out almost automatically.

All but a white lie. Her mind concluded.

Silence settled between them, and Chris took in a deep breath, finally coming to his own conclusion. 

He crossed his arms, his gaze flickered over to the faint redness peeking through her makeup, the previous day’s bruise healing. 

   “How is it that a Princess is allowed to be treated in such a manner in your so-called ‘civilized’ society?” Chris questioned, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness.

Y/N raised a hand instinctively to cover her cheek, her head turning in the direction Lady Katherine had stomped off. Bringing her back to her harsh reality.

Once again, the second princess easily controlled her emotions, as she met his gaze. It was no big secret, Lady Katherine had always paraded around her status as the Second Elysium Princess’ mother. It wouldn’t be too long before the foreign guests were made aware of who she truly was.

What expression will Chan make when he finds out about her less-than royal status? She wondered. 

   “What you witnessed was a mother simply disciplining her child.” She explained, catching him off guard with her response.

His brows contorted in confusion, eyes squinting as he studied her face. 

   “Are you not the child of the King and Queen?” Chris asked, genuinely confused.

She looked just like the King. She shared lots of similar features with Princess Sienna, he would have never guessed they weren’t full sisters.

   “I am the daughter of His Highness the King, and yes, the Queen is mother of all royal children. But the lady who bore me is Lady Katherine, my mother.” Y/N clarified, watching his reaction carefully.

Chris stared at Y/N, trying to process this unconventional family structure. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a mocking laugh.

   “The King here runs around having his fun and bringing children into the world, yet your society calls us ‘uncivilized’?” Chris’ words pierced through Y/N, who glanced around quickly to see if anyone had heard his damning words.

   “Worry not. There is no one around.” He reassured her, though his eyes involuntarily flicked towards the hedges where he had previously hidden.

   “But I guess he still honors his Royal reputation, as you’ve still gotten a title and allowed you to reside on the palace grounds.” Chris mused aloud, while Y/N remained silent.

Everything Christopher had just said struck a nerve of truth. Both embarrassing and painfully true. Despite carrying the title of “Princess,” Y/N knew she could never truly embody it.

But of course a crown prince like himself would never be able to understand that.

   “Is it not like that in Nightshade?” Her voice is quiet.

Chris crossed his arms, a half-smile playing on his lips. “We choose one Queen. We’re quite a romantic clan.” He proclaimed proudly, standing tall almost.

His words, though tinged with a hint of cockiness, answered many of Y/N’s unspoken questions. She bit her lip, wondering if he had made his choice.

She recalled the warmth in his eyes as he stared at Sienna. Would he have looked at her like that if she had stepped forward? If she had been bold enough to call him “Chan” right here, right now?

No.

He hadn’t looked at her at all.

He looked down at her because compared to a Sienna, she looked nothing like a princess.

Y/N’s eyes instinctively searched for the crystal bird pendant he had earlier displayed proudly, only to find it discreetly tucked away beneath the collar of his jacket.

But before she could ask about it, before she could perhaps convince herself to tell him about its origins, Chris’ head snapped toward the direction of the trail leading back to the banquet, his eyes narrowing.

   “Someone is coming.” The Prince stated abruptly.

Immediately Y/N takes a step back, and seeing her do so, the confused prince is easily able to interpret her expression.

She did not want to be seen with him.

Of course, she was a Royal from Elysium, unlike his princess, she probably hated his kind, his people, like everyone else in this nation.

He sighed, retreating back into the hiding place among the shadows. Turning his head in an unbothered stance, his eyes met Han’s stunned gaze.

   “My princess!” It was Anna’s voice, sent to escort Y/N back to her chambers as Lady Katherine had ordered.

The young girl hurried to guide her mistress through the dimly lit garden while Y/N stole one last glance at the hedges where the Warrior Prince had vanished. Emotions swirled within her.

Shame, embarrassment, sadness.

Regret.

   “Why didn’t you come out sooner? It’s not polite to eavesdrop, you know?” Chris chided from the shadows once the two men were alone. As if he hadn't done the exact same thing.

   “I would have, but it was quite difficult. The Second Princess had already seemed quite flustered after seeing you.” Han explained as they emerged, the Prince and his guard making their way down the garden path. 

Chris glanced back briefly towards the direction the second princess had vanished into, her surprised expression, her narrowed gaze.

Suddenly he recalled the young lady who had approached him at the Queen’s palace the morning prior, the familiarity of her voice, her sharp gaze. He faltered in his steps.

   “I guess we have met.” He muttered a tinge amused, garnering a look of curiosity from his guard.

The Prince shook his head, changing the topic.

   “Did you find out why Princess Sienna didn’t recognize me? Or was she pretending because someone might have overheard?” Chris inquired, concern evident in his voice.

Han sighed, knowing his master had been eagerly anticipating a different outcome.

   “Apparently, Princess Sienna was in a carriage accident in Melgarde. She was bedridden for quite some time.” Han revealed, his eyes reflecting Chris’ surprise and sadness.

The prince’s expression softened at such news. Although she was well now, as he had seen, she must have been in a great deal of pain.

   “Lady Alyssa mentioned that Sienna struggled to recognize many of the young ladies here. It’s been years since she was last in this palace, and perhaps her injury and the long recovery that followed may have affected her memories of growing up here.” Han continued, observing Chris’ somber mood.

Chris was at a loss for words.

Why was fate so cruel?

He wanted to do nothing but reunite with the one girl that had always lingered in his mind, in his thoughts. Yet, here he was, unable to do any of that. Han placed his hand on the Prince’s shoulder, giving it a soft press.

   “Worry not. Think of it as another opportunity. Another chance for you to reconnect with her, without any secrets or hiding of identities—And let’s be honest, now you’re much more charming and handsome, you’ll easily win her over.” Han teased, trying to lighten the mood.

   “Was I not handsome and charming as a kid?” 

Leave it to Chris to point out the negative side of things.

   “You were quite scrawny and arrogant for your age back then. It was very easy to carry you too.” Han answered honestly, prompting a scoff from Chris, but he couldn’t refute.

   “Let’s return before they suspect we’re up to something.” Chris muttered, the two men heading back towards the festivities, leaving behind the quiet garden and the tumultuous emotions that had stirred in its midst. ──────────────────────── Y/N stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. Her cheeks remained flushed, the redness lingering even after she had scrubbed away all her makeup. Embarrassment surged anew. She hadn’t expected to encounter the Warrior Prince, let alone for him to see her in such a disheveled state.

To laugh at her rank.

Now he knew her true status.

How lowly she was compared to Princess Sienna, how plain she must have seemed in his eyes. He might not have even considered her a princess before her introduction, and he hadn’t acknowledged her presence back then either.

Tears pricked at her eyes, catching the dim light of her chambers. His words echoed in her mind, his question about the forest, the place where they had met. 

She had lied straight to his face.

And now she cried.

Should she have confessed the truth? That the girl he thought of as a dear friend was nothing but a lowly princess, unworthy to stand beside him, let alone befriend him?

Chris had once wondered how his princess would react upon discovering his princely identity. He had reassured himself that there was nothing to worry about. In the cold mountains of the north, he had come to that conclusion.

But clearly, he was wrong.

Instead the sharp Elysium princess took a deep breath, wiping her tears away and finding the strength she always used to hide her pain. 

She had made the right decision. 

It was nothing but a white lie.

Yes. A lie that would preserve her cherished memories of Chan, who had sought only her company and celebrated only her birthday. Looked at only her.

 A lie that would shield her from her heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

Prior to the arrival of the foreign envoys, the King’s Mistress had warned her daughter to stay cautious of the Nightshade Kingdom and their representatives. Yet, the Queen had declared that the second princess would become an unofficial host to the princes, particularly the Warrior Prince, an excuse that would keep him at arm’s length from her own daughter.

Of course, none of it went unnoticed by the cautious second princess, who wanted to do nothing more than avoid her childhood friend. The childhood friend who suddenly didn’t remind her of the scrawny, innocent boy anymore. Instead, she saw what everyone else did. 

A commanding presence with keen eyes and curt words, a no-nonsense young man. Handsome and mysterious.

If Y/N hadn’t glimpsed a tinge of his playful side in the garden that evening, she might have never seen a trace of Chan in him, although his words and demeanor had still remained guarded and brusque even in the presence of them two that night.

But still the lowly princess struggled. Y/N could not separate Chris from Chan, and the pain of it cut deep.

She was unsure of what she had expected. 

She had denied being the young princess who once visited their special spot by the river, the one who frequented The Grand Forest. She had let him misunderstand her, yet she couldn’t help but gnaw at her lips as she watched Chris, a smile lingering on his lips, his tone smooth and engaging, a stark contrast to the bluntness he had used with her, when he greeted Sienna.

An emotion simmered within her, elusive and overwhelming. But before it could consume her in the midst of the gathering, she was jolted back to reality by Prince Ian’s loud, carefree laughter. His loud chuckle of carried with the wind.

The royals were gathered at the table, basking in the afternoon warmth of a luncheon hosted in name by Princess Sienna. In truth, her day-younger sister had done the actual preparations. Sienna had not denied it this time. Perhaps, the Queen had given her a stern warning following Sienna’s previous defiance of her wishes the night of the royal dinner.

Although everyone smiled and engaged in conversation, an unspoken tension hung in the air. Sienna hesitated to glance at the foreign princes, either due to unfamiliarity with the situation or lingering childhood lessons about staying wary of Nightshade warriors.

The first princess aside, even the Elysium Crown Prince seemed cautious of the Warrior Prince across from him, yet avoiding meaningful conversation with Prince Hyunjin, who wasn’t important enough for Ian’s attention. 

The two crown princes exchanged discussions about politics and current events, probing each other’s nations’ positions through sweet talks. 

And even if Prince Ian didn’t quite fill in his title as Crown Prince, Chris could easily tell he was a weasel. a schemer, gathering secrets to use for his own advantage when he saw fit. 

Of course, he was his father’s son after all.

Yet, the second princess sat frustrated amongst them. Although Sienna made an excellent princess, with her graceful and generous nature, perfectly embodying an Elysium royal, she lacked the skills to entertain any political conversations, let alone foreign delegates. Perhaps the Queen mother must have noticed it as well, seeing as she ordered for Princess Y/N to be practically glued to the first princess, whenever it came to Sienna interacting with these foreign royals. Aiding her from the shadows. 

A place Y/N had never left to begin with.

Amidst her emotional turmoil and recent heartache, Y/N only wished she could escape this gathering. She feared that Chan might catch her stealing glances and misunderstand her longing gaze. 

Why shouldn’t he? She had denied any childhood connection with him.

Conflicted and uncertain, Y/N managed to keep her feelings in check. She turned her attention to the Sylvancrest prince, engaging him with genuine interest in tales of his voyages to distract herself from Prince Christopher and the Nightshade matters. Yet, as she laughed softly at something he said, she felt the intense gaze of the Warrior Prince upon her. Despite her attempts to dismiss it as coincidence, his eyes lingered, studying her.

When she looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes quickly softened and looked away, as if it were an accident. Moments later, his gaze shifted to Sienna, who was conversing with the Princess-consort. This time, his expression was gentle, even if his glance was fleeting.

Y/N couldn’t really blame anyone, even if she wanted to. Sienna had never confirmed that she was Chan’s childhood friend, she had merely been captivated by the crystal bird hanging around his neck. Perhaps it gave her a glimpse back to her memory from that day.

But her simple acknowledgment of it seemed to be enough for a friend desperate to reunite with her like they had once promised.

The very bird that had once belonged to Sienna herself.

Despite Y/N’s efforts to plant seeds of denial, Sienna’s inability to recall details of their shared childhood in the capital felt like one of the cruelest coincidences of all. 

What a harsh twist of fate. ──────────────────────── The leader of the Midnight Order found himself facing new and unexpected challenges. For years, he had navigated the night with ease, slipping through shadows without fear of detection. Yet despite the rigorous training he’d undergone in the harsh Northern Mountains, he was ill-prepared for the complexities of foreign terrain. To make matters worse, the Kingdom of Elysium was a vibrant and restless realm, alive with activity even after dark.

However, as the leader and sole shadow protector of his band of Midnight warriors accompanying his prince to this foreign kingdom, Minho was well-versed in completing his tasks with precision. By the time the palace was shrouded in the deep darkness that marked the end of the day, after enduring a long day of hearing Prince Ian boast about his prowess with sword and bow, Crown Prince Christopher knew upon seeing Minho in the darkness of his chambers that his warrior had discovered something significant.

Han stood guard, though it was more a precaution than a necessity, as the three warriors in the room had finely tuned hearing, honed over years of training.

   “The elite nobles of the Elysium King’s court have been making frequent visits to his throne room.” Minho reported quietly. 

   “Sometimes they even venture into the king's official study, despite all the revelry. These visits often stretch late into the night.”

Something was definitely amiss, and the Nightshade Prince felt a simmering anger as he grappled with the mystery behind it all. Worry crept in, fueling his unease about the schemes the Elysium royals and nobles might be plotting. He recalled the jabs Count Miller had made during the banquet and the palpable hostility from Prince Ian. He even remembered the way Sienna had avoided looking at him.

Had she begun to hate him? 

Did the years spent apart reshape her perspective, so that she no longer saw Nightshade as a nation with its own traditions and history? Instead as an enemy?

Was she afraid of him?

Minho’s sharp, low voice pulled Chris from his troubling thoughts. 

   “I will continue to monitor the situation. However, I suspect the Elysium Queen has more influence on what is happening than she admits.”

Han’s brows furrowed as he tried to recall any signs of underlying tensions from the Queen. All he remembered were her pleasant smiles as she clung to the king’s arm during the rare glimpses he had of her.

Chris leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the Midnight leader. 

   “She’s embedded her own people everywhere, keeping a watchful eye from the comfort of her parlor. I’ve already seen a few familiar faces slipping in and out of her palace.”

It wasn’t surprising to Chris. He had long suspected that the Queen was more than just her gracious demeanor and generous words. If the King’s mistress could cause trouble and strike the second princess, surely the Queen was capable of far more.

For a fleeting moment, Chris’ thoughts drifted back to the second princess. To her surprised expression when he saw her in the garden that evening, the red flush on her cheeks from her mother’s “discipline.”

He suddenly remembered her stepping away from him, afraid someone might see her engaging in a conversation with him. Perhaps, looking down on him.

The warrior prince remembered her soft giggle. The one that had caught his attention amidst his conversation at the luncheon earlier that day. Watching as her eyes crinkled, fingers masking her lips to muffle the delicate sound that came through.

His hand reached towards the crystal bird necklace, gripping it softly in his palms as he bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated. 

Why was he suddenly fixating on a princess he hadn’t known about until a few days ago?

Chris found the distraction unsettling and did not like it at all.

Her presence irked him.

Although the Nightshade Prince noticed that the second princess’s eyes always narrowed into a scowl whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, he couldn’t help but feel irritated.

The feeling was mutual it seemed.

After every encounter, Y/N’s stern tone and narrowed brows didn’t escape the observant prince. 

Unlike Sienna, who perpetually wore a warm smile and exuded a gentle, welcoming demeanor, Y/N was unflinchingly forthright. Her candidness was striking and at first, it even impressed Chris, especially when she added her voice to the complex debates among the princes. However, her views always seemed to oppose his, as if she were deliberately contradicting him.

It was clear she didn’t like him. (He was mistaken, of course.)

What the keen eyed Warrior Prince failed to see was that Y/N was, in fact, reflecting his own opinions in her way, articulating thoughts he would come to later.

If she made a controversial statement, the room would dismiss it as the naive blunders of a young lady unfamiliar with politics. A princess from Elysium would never publicly criticize her own nation. Especially a lowly princess like herself.

But if Chris, the crown prince of a rival kingdom, had expressed similar sentiments, the reaction would have been different. Harsh words and accusations would fly, tarnishing his reputation and insulting his people. Calling him uncivilized.

In reality, the second princess was always on his side, even if she told herself to keep her distance until it was time for him to leave. 

She would pretend their childhood friendship had ended with his cheesy, dimpled smile and promises of a reunion that carried with that summer breeze in the Grand Forest, was the last memory she had of him.

But fate seemed to have other plans. 

She continually found herself drawn into Prince Christopher’s orbit.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted as she gazed at the novel in Anna’s hand. The young maid’s face was alight with excitement as she held it out.

   “I finally managed to snag it for you, my lady.” Anna said, her enthusiasm evident.

Despite her usual disapproval of the princess’s obsession with romantic tales, Anna was always one step ahead in securing these stories for Y/N.

Y/N took the book, her emotions shifting as she held it. The love stories within had become an escape from her bleak reality, fueling dreams that suddenly felt unattainable for someone like her. 

She was royalty, but not royal enough . A princess, yes, but one often overlooked and forgotten. 

Such stories of perfect love seemed forever out of reach now.

   “Princess?” Anna’s bright eyes, brimming with hope, were impossible to ignore.

Even though the young maid pretended to be indifferent to these tales, she always listened intently as Y/N recounted them.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N accepted the novel, slipping once more into the realm of impossible happiness. ──────────────────────── The founding day celebrations had been postponed to coincide with the grand wedding of the Elysium Crown Prince and his future consort. Yet, the festivities seemed endless. Chris gazed out of the large window, which framed a perfect view of the rose garden, and immediately noticed a figure that seemed both out of place and captivating. 

Y/N.

She was seated under the gazebo, lost in the pages of a novel, her afternoon dress casual yet elegant.

When Chris had first discovered that his room overlooked the rose garden, he hadn’t paid it much attention. But seeing her there, so absorbed in her book, a wave of distraction washed over him before he swiftly composed himself and drew the curtains closed.

The following day, at the same time, with the sun still high and the warm afternoon breeze flowing through the garden, she was there again, holding the same novel. 

Chris found his curiosity piqued. Yet, agitated at the same time.

What could be so enthralling about that book that it drew her out again? She looked so at peace now but earlier she had crossed him over a discussion at the library.

On the third day, it was as if he had been expecting her. The new memory of their encounter earlier that day lingered bitterly, her deliberate avoidance still fresh in his mind. Her curt dismissal had stung his pride, yet the warrior prince found himself inexplicably drawn to observing her from the windowpane. 

Han had been talking about yet another celebratory dinner, but Chris remained silent, his gaze fixed on her in the distance.

Did she realize how much she irritated him? Her aloof and sometimes sharp demeanor, her lack of deference, all irked him.

Did she know how beautiful she was? 

The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the earring on her lobe. Subtle gestures that were just enough to capture the Nightshade prince’s attention.

Chris’ eyes traced the contours of her figure as she sat elegantly, yet casually, at the garden table. But as quickly as his gaze lingered, they were cast downward.

Damn, he was doing it again. 

Staring. 

What was wrong with him?

He chastised himself for the impropriety of his thoughts and the rudeness of watching a princess lost in her own world.

He should have been thinking about Sienna. He should be thinking about her sweet smile, her soft voice that reintroduced him to a familiar dessert they’d shared in the quiet of the forest as children. Her apology when she noticed that he was upset by what her sister had said.

Chris glanced to his right, finding Han waiting for a response to a question he hadn’t fully heard. Something about another royal dinner, as if the numerous gatherings he’d attended since arriving hadn’t been enough.

   “It seems Elysium revels in fanfare and celebrations.” The Nightshade Crown Prince chuckled, pulling the curtains shut.

Han hummed in agreement.

   “Yes. Even Minho is exhausted. The palace grounds are bustling day and night, with no respite for him to wander in the dark.”

Chris recalled how Minho had been in and out of his room all night, avoiding patrol guards, and how he nearly tackled the poor warrior the first time he snuck in.

But, despite all the criticism and his reservations, not all these events were unwelcome. 

They provided glimpses of Sienna, giving Chris hope for a chance to exchange words and be enchanted by her smile. Perhaps help her remember some of the things they enjoyed laughing about as children. Lately, however, wherever Sienna went, Y/N followed.

The second princess, almost her exact opposite in grace and demeanor.

Chris scowled at the closed window, a sour taste in his mouth. 

   “Prince Ian wants you to join him in the garden this afternoon. Apparently, he wants to show off his archery skills.” Han said with a hint of amusement, leaning back onto the wood of the grand door.

Chris frowned at the mention of the garden, the very place where Y/N was currently sitting. 

   “Send an attendant. I’ll be delayed.” He dismissed with a groan, sinking back into his recliner. He had no interest in engaging in passive-aggressive conversation with the second princess, or in witnessing Ian’s mediocre archery skills.

But Chris hadn’t been able to stay away, despite his best efforts. 

As he arrived at the garden, he found the atmosphere tense and charged with unease. Prince Hyunjin was absent, leaving only the Crown Prince Ian, the two princesses, and a young Nightshade warrior in training.

Prince Christopher’s attendant.

The young boy stood rooted in place, eyes on the ground, visibly terrified.

Ian had grown up under his father’s shadow, inheriting not only the title of Crown Prince, but also a sense of superiority and disdain for those he deemed beneath him. At the academy, he had developed a cruel pastime, using his archery skills to intimidate and humiliate others. What began with targeting fruits and inanimate objects had escalated to using live targets. Servants, humble nobles, anyone he felt he could dominate.

And now, in the pretense of afternoon tea, Ian was showcasing his skill with a bow and arrow. His target, already picked out. He was showing off, and had been goading Chris’ young aide, a warrior in training who seemed weaker compared to the seasoned soldiers. 

Even Ian’s choice of target revealed his own inadequacies as an archer, highlighting how pathetic his skills truly were.

The Elysium Prince’s taunts were laced with condescension and veiled threats, masking his unchecked power with laughter and mockery. Sienna, watched in silence, troubled by Ian’s behavior, while Y/N struggled to contain her anger at the blatant injustice. 

The foreign warrior prince and his guard watched in disbelief as the scene unfolded. 

   “Usually, a bow and arrow are used to protect people. But here, the traditions seem different,” Chris remarked, his anger barely concealed behind a veneer of calm.

Ian’s expression soured. “Don’t be such a downer. He’s just an attendant.” He retorted nonchalantly, his dismissive tone making Chris’ gaze narrow.

   “Then use me as the target. He’s just my attendant after all.” Chris challenged, aware that Ian would never risk breaching the peace agreement by aiming at him. 

If Ian dared and attempted to draw an arrow at him, Minho or Han would intervene before he could react. Han’s fingers hovered over the hilt of his sword, ready to act.

Sienna gripped Y/N’s hand tightly, her face a mask of fear and worry as the sudden tension mounted. A silence fell between the two crown princes until Ian grunted in concession.

   “Fine then.” He said, scanning the area and locking eyes with a young attendant among his own servants. “You, get over here.”

Another young boy froze, wide-eyed and trembling. This time the second princess couldn’t hold her tongue, unable to stay silent any longer. Slowly, she made her way to the two young men, her legs moving on their own. Sienna watched with a look of concern, hoping her justice-driven sister wouldn’t act recklessly.

   “Brother, you shouldn’t cause such a scene.” Y/N finally interjected, her voice steady despite the palpable tension. 

   “The Nightshade Prince doesn’t seem comfortable with this game.”

Ian’s eyes flashed with irritation at Y/N’s interruption. He glanced at Sienna and then at the second princess, who seemed to be forgetting her place. 

The Elysium crown prince laughed, his tone mocking. 

   “Fine then, why don’t you play with me, my dear sister?”

Y/N stiffened, suddenly caught off guard by the Prince’s audacity. Sienna stood up, shocked by his words, while Chris wondered if such behavior was common among the royals here. 

And they called his country barbaric.

   “Surely you’re not serious?” Sienna exclaimed, horror evident as she looked between her siblings.

   “It’s just a friendly game between siblings.” Ian taunted with a sinister grin. “Isn’t it?”

   “I accept your challenge.” Y/N declared firmly, though her hands trembled as she clutched her dress.

   “Princess Y/N, you don’t have to.” Chris finally interjected, stepping forward. 

   “Ian, this isn’t necessary.” He said, his voice calm but firm.

Nothing about this situation was sane. Even the second princess, who Chris thought would be level headed, proved to be prideful and stubborn.

But Y/N, with a boldness that surprised even herself, stood her ground. 

   “It’s just a friendly game between siblings.” She insisted, her gaze unwavering despite knowing the potential consequences of defiance.

Chris glanced around the courtyard, his eyes narrowing as he observed the absurdity unfolding before him. 

Prince Ian, standing with a bow in hand and a smirk on his face that exuded arrogance. While Princess Y/N, stood a few paces away, appeared both defiant and uncomfortable. 

Han stood frozen, shock evident on his face as he exchanged glances with his frustrated Prince.

   “You’re too short. Place it on your shoulder.” Prince Ian taunted, gesturing toward the apple in Y/N’s slightly trembling hands. 

The stubborn princess straightened her back, determination in her gaze. With a forced smile, she placed the apple on her shoulder, trying to balance it as best she could.

Ian smirked triumphantly, drawing the bowstring taut. The tension in the air was palpable as everyone held their breath, acutely aware of Ian’s skill with a bow but also the wrongness of the situation. 

Chris felt a surge of anger. His patience snapping as he glared at Prince Ian.

   “This must be a joke.” Chris muttered, shifting his gaze between Ian and the silent Sienna, who refused to meet his eyes.

   “Prince Ian, this is not—” 

The arrow sliced through the air, cutting his words short before striking the apple cleanly and embedding itself into the tree behind Y/N. The second princess flinched. A sudden yelp escaped her lips as her hand instinctively went to her shoulder where the arrow had grazed her skin.

   “You distracted me, Prince Christopher.” Ian snapped, sucking his teeth, lowering his bow and turning a challenging glare towards Chris.

   “Y/N!” Sienna’s voice erupted amidst the tension.

Chris took a step forward, frustration simmering beneath the surface. 

   “This wasn’t a jest, Ian. You could have seriously hurt her.”

Ian’s expression darkened, wounded pride evident in his retort. 

   “It was just a game.” He said dismissively, waving off Chris’ concern.

The hurt princess winced slightly as she withdrew her hand from her shoulder, revealing bloodied fingers from where the arrow had grazed her. Sienna rushed forward, concern etched on her face as she examined Y/N’s injury.

   “I-It’s just a small nick.” Y/N assured her sister with a strained smile, though her discomfort was clear. 

Sienna bit her lip, suddenly unsure of how to address the situation in front of the guests, in front of the servants and the foreign attendants, not wanting to escalate matters.

   “Tsk. The sight of blood has fouled my mood.” Ian grumbled, setting down his bow with evident annoyance, while Chris shot him a frustrated look.

   “You’re just a guest here, Christopher. Don’t overstep your bounds.” Ian’s tone was laced with irritation.

The Warrior Prince clenched his jaw, fists tightening at his sides. He had respected Ian as a prince and a future leader of Elysium, but in that moment, he saw only a bully hiding behind his title.

The Crown Prince made a swift exit, leaving his sister to handle the aftermath.

Chris stood in his own silence after the Prince’s quick return. Inhaling sharply as he crossed his arms against his chest and took slow, deliberate steps towards the princesses. 

   “So this was the ‘friendly game’ between siblings?” He raised an eyebrow, disappointment and frustration clear in his eyes as he looked at Sienna, who had done nothing to prevent the situation.

He had expected at least her to say something. Even if both her siblings appeared to be insane, Sienna should have said something. But Chris’ gaze faltered, seeing Y/N scowl at him, even amidst her clear pain, a scowl that seemed so familiar to him now.

   “I advise you to keep these sarcastic remarks to yourself, Prince Christopher. It was nothing but a mistake.” Y/N interjected before Sienna could even begin to come up with something to say.

Chris’ gaze shifted to the injured but still defiant second princess, who took a sudden small step back under his cold scrutiny. The bravery she had shown moments ago had suddenly crumbled under his stern stare. He remained silent, looking between her faltering eyes and the hand covering her injured shoulder. She seemed vulnerable, a small bunny trembling under his gaze.

His brows narrowed, another surge of frustration and anger simmering within him. But he clenched his fist, composing himself.

   “The second princess claims to be fine. It’s just a small misunderstanding, Prince Christopher.” Sienna sighed softly, shielding her younger sister.

Chris exhaled, his gaze falling to the ground before he spoke. 

   “If Princess Sienna says so.” He finally said, his voice softening as he nodded at the first princess.

Then his eyes shifted back to the second princess, turning colder as he looked at her. 

Y/N’s chest tightened with a mix of hurt and disappointment. Chan’s disapproving look cut through her defenses, making her feel exposed and vulnerable, more so than the small nick on her shoulder ever could.

Y/N was ruining herself in his eyes, and it was a torment far worse than the physical pain. 

It didn’t feel like a simple white lie anymore.

─────────────────────── to be continued.

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Crystal Bird - Chapter 5

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, parental abuse, somewhat proofread A/N: It gets better, I promise! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ───────────────────

The warrior prince of Nightshade had finally found his princess, and for a fleeting moment, he could almost feel the intense worry that had gripped his heart over the years, begin to lift. 

Yet, as quickly as the relief settled in, it was overtaken by another, more unsettling emotion.

Confusion.

Chris’ momentary happiness was cut short as he watched Princess Sienna bid farewell with a formal nod after their introduction. The light in his eye morphing into a panic as Sienna dipped for a low curtsy. Her arm gently nudged the second princess, who had been momentarily dazed, and they both began moving toward the next circle of nobles to greet. 

The warrior prince’s eyes followed her form, before his attention shifted to Han. They exchanged a look that mirrored each other’s bewilderment, both clearly taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. 

By the lack of acknowledgment.

But before Chris could voice his thoughts to his guard, he was approached by another young lady. She gazed at him with a blend of awe and trepidation and a bit of lingering fear.

   “G-good evening, Prince Christopher. I am Alyssa Miller, daughter of Count Miller.” She introduced herself.

Chris stared at her for a moment, before giving her a curt nod. He had briefly met her and her father the evening before at dinner. But he didn’t care enough to recall her name. Yet, here she stood, clearly intrigued by the Nightshade prince, looking at him as if he were some animal in a zoo.

A brief silence settled between them. The young lady awkwardly fidgeted with her gloves, while Han eyed his stoic prince, void of any emotion on his face.

   “Have you taken to the dance floor yet, Prince Christopher?” Alyssa continued, her rigid but shy demeanor stealing glances at the composed warrior.

   “I have not.” Chris responded curtly.

   “Would you like to—”

Her eyes faltered at the sight of the familiar pendant hanging on his neck, gaze narrowing. Something that did not go unnoticed by the defensive foreign prince.

Did she also recognize it? What was going on?

   “First Princess Sienna had something just like this.” Her lips had thinned into a thoughtful smile, trying to recall that afternoon.

   “My father had collected it on one of his journeys and I had gifted it to her myself during a birthday celebration—but she had lost it.”

Alyssa’s recount of the story was automatic, Chris didn’t even have to attempt to get it out of her.

He finally had a backstory of this crystal pendant, he knew what came next. From the vivid memories he swore not to forget, to Han’s detailed explanation of that day.

The Princess had lost it while saving him that afternoon.

Sienna had left the crystal bird for him to find.

The crown prince of Nightshade raised a brow, crossing his arm over his chest.

   “How long has your father been on the King’s court?” Chris questioned.

His question caught Alyssa off guard, bringing her out of her memories, causing her to blink in surprise.

   “Uh-um, ever since I was born. I used to play with the princesses when I was a child.” She confessed, her eyes drifting towards where Sienna and Y/N had been.

   “...Though Princess Sienna doesn’t quite recall.” Alyssa added softly, her words piquing the interest of the stoic prince, his brows arching in curiosity.

This time Prince Christopher glanced back at Han, eyes subtly calling for the young guard to approach. Han quickly came to his prince’s side, a small smile playing on his lips.

   “You must be thirsty, Lady Alyssa. My guard here will fetch you a drink.” The Prince said, his tone softer this time.

   “Oh!— How can your personal guard do such a thing? There is no need.” Alyssa protested politely, stealing a glance at Han, who stood confident, a guard clearly of high rank.

   “I insist.” Chris replied, attempting to be charming, a demeanor he rarely adopted.

   “If you’re still hesitant, why don’t you come along, my lady. I can fetch my prince his drink instead.” Han suggested, his smile unwavering.

Alyssa appeared to be taken by the gentle smiles of these handsome yet mysterious foreign men, slowly nodding in agreement as Han gestures for her to lead the way. Christopher glanced at his guard once more, silently assigning a task.

The evening’s bustle grew louder as the nobles relaxed with more drinks, setting aside political discussions for idle gossip. And somehow Chris found himself wrapped up in it as well.

   “You know, I was quite surprised the Nightshade Kingdom even accepted an invitation.” One of the older noble men addressed, looking towards Prince Christopher, who somehow found himself amongst them.

Without his guard to deflect them, Chris sighed inwardly, resigned to joining their conversation, humoring whatever they talked about. 

   “You don’t speak much do you, your highness?” Another young noble, evidently from the Elysium King’s court, added.

   “I’m more of an observer.” Chris replied politely, finally asserting himself.

Count Miller, who Chris recalled from the previous night’s dinner, and Lady Alyssa’s father, let out a hearty laugh.

   “Of course. Observing is what the Nightshade warriors are good at. Like predators looking for their prey. Uncivilized and ready to attack.” He chuckled, and the group amongst them bellowed out with their laughter as well. 

The warrior prince’s brow twitched at the remark, his rigid posture prompting a few uncomfortable glances among the group. But he managed to hold his tongue.

Noticing the sudden tension, Count Miller patted the young noble besides him on the shoulder and turned to Chris with a grin.

   “Surely my jest didn’t offend you Prince Christopher?” The look on his face felt taunting almost.

The other men glanced at the foreign prince with unease, their thoughts likely drifting to the notorious reputation of the Nightshade Kingdom.

   “Of course not.” Chris replied with a smile, though his hands clenched in the pockets of his slacks.

The men chuckled in response, and some minutes later Prince Christopher seized the opportunity to excuse himself, citing the need for some fresh air.

He found himself in the back garden, one that he recalled seeing from his chambers at Ruby Hall. But the sight of pretty roses weren’t enough to calm his nerves. Anger was evident in his expression as he paced behind the hedges, muttering curses under his breath, his fingers tightening around the crystal bird pendant in an attempt to calm his nerves.

   “A jest? Ridiculous.” He muttered through gritted teeth, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. 

He was stewing in his anger, inhaling deeply to soothe the frustration. But the foreign prince’s brief moment of solitude was interrupted by approaching voices, pulling him back to reality. 

Did he appear suspicious standing alone out here?

Quickly, he tucked his necklace into his vest and melted into the shadows of the hedges. 

Yeah, definitely not suspicious. He chided himself silently.

   “You’ve gotten really bold lately.” Lady Katherine’s voice carried, though hushed, with unmistakable anger as she dragged Y/N along by the wrist, her grip tight.

   “How can you even speak out amongst them?” Lady Katherine continued her tirade.

Y/N glanced between her livid mother and her mother’s personal attendant. 

She wasn’t sure herself. 

What had come over her?

Y/N hadn’t intended to speak up, but witnessing the nobles’ mockery of the Nightshade warriors, even after Chan’s departure, had stirred something inside her.

A protectiveness that she guessed stemmed from her loyalty to a friendship she was too afraid to acknowledge, had led her to voice out her disapproval. Her legs automatically moved and she had found herself confronting the group of noble men.

   “Speaking in favor of those wild beasts isn’t something fit for a princess.” Her mother admonished sharply.

There were those words again. 

Fit for a princess. 

The words echoed in Y/N’s mind, a constant reminder of the expectations and scrutiny that plagued her every move. 

But why didn’t she feel like a princess? 

Especially today.

Tonight on the day where she was supposedly one of the main character’s of the banquet. The night where she was finally introduced as the second princess of this nation.

She didn’t feel like a Princess at all. 

And with Chan failing to recognize her this evening, she felt even less than. Y/N closed her eyes tightly for a brief moment, holding back the anger and hurt that simmered within her. 

   “My words were nothing but the truth. Surely you don’t believe belittling our honorable guests is acceptable? Besides I’ve asserted my power as second princess, you should be satisfied by my actions.” Y/N implored, her words hitting her mother like a challenge.

Lady Katherine stood momentarily speechless, visibly taken aback by her daughter’s defiance, the stubborn glint in her eyes. Things that were becoming too frequent.

Instead of responding, Katherine raised her hand as if to strike Y/N, a familiar threat when she couldn’t counter her daughter’s bold truths. Y/N closed her eyes, ready for the sting that came with it. However, the mother’s hand faltered at the sharp exclamation of her maid.

   “My lady, you mustn’t! The princess is still recovering from yesterday’s bruises.” The old maid interjected urgently, prompting Lady Katherine to glance at Y/N’s cheek, concealed under fading makeup.

Her mother’s hand dropped to her side with a frustrated “tsk,” the sound resonating in the quiet night air.

   “Have her maid take her back to her chambers, her wounds are becoming visible. I shouldn’t see her for the rest of the night.” Katherine spat, her words laced with displeasure, before turning sharply and stomping off toward the banquet hall.

The maid hesitated, caught between her duty and the tension in the air. 

   “S-stay here, Princess. I shall send for your maid.” She stammered, hurrying after Lady Katherine.

Finally left alone in the garden, silence stretched around Y/N. The second princess stood in her anger, shame, guilt, for a long while. She glanced around, feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

The hiding warrior prince stood puzzled in the shadows, staring wide ahead into the night, suddenly uncertain of his next move. There was an uneasy feeling in his chest from whatever he had stumbled upon unknowingly. 

Should he step out and confront the situation, or slip away into the hedges to find another route of escape from this awkward encounter? 

But before he could ponder further, he heard her footsteps drawing closer, stopping just a few feet away from the shadows he had concealed himself in. He scrunched his face, praying she would not turn his way, hoping that she would just stomp off.

   “Damn it.” She muttered, frustration evident in her voice as she ran a hand through her hair and sighed loudly.

Of course she doesn’t stomp off, the unmistakable sensation of being watched made her jolt, head swiftly turning towards the hedges. Y/N nearly gasped, hand clutching at her chest when she saw the Nightshade Prince step out of the dark bushes.

With a guilty expression plastered on his face, Chris cleared his throat awkwardly, searching for an excuse. He glanced around the garden attempting to come up with anything to say about his presence here. For hiding and ultimately eavesdropping.

   “P-Prince Christopher!” Y/N blurted out, before regaining her composure quickly.

   “Second Princess…” He addressed, her title still sounding strange and foreign no matter how aware of her existence he was.

   “What are you doing here? Are you lost?” She asks, attempting to divert his attention, though it was clear he had overheard her earlier conversation with her mother.

Chris caught himself, pretending he wasn’t glued to the darkness but was talking a nightly stroll and simply stumbled across her path. His gaze flickered toward the direction Lady Katherine and her maid had disappeared, then settled back on Y/N. 

   “I was out for some air. The atmosphere inside is quite stifling for a wild beast.” Chris remarked casually, his tone laced with a sudden hint of amusement, to ease the awkward, stuffy mood.

Her breath hitched at his words, realizing he had overheard more than she intended. Quickly regaining composure, she bowed slightly.

   “I apologize if what you have heard has offended you.”

   “Oh? Were you ladies having a discussion about me?” Chris countered with a feigned innocence, his eyes flicking toward the path the two older women had taken, once again.

   “Surely not.” Y/N lied with a practiced ease, mirroring his pretense.

   “I was referring to Count Miller’s words back then.” She continued

Chris stood impressed by how adeptly the so-called Second Princess handled the situation, even though both were aware of the source of his subtle remarks.

   “Do you not agree with Count Miller’s words as well? All of those nobles seemed to have quite a laugh at what he said. I’m sure it’s not different from what everyone here at Elysium believes to be true.” Chris pressed, a trace of frustration creeping into his voice.

   “It’s common for the noble folk to mock and taunt others in the pretense of a joke. They do it amongst themselves all the time. If you heed into it, you’ll become an easy target. The best thing to do is treat them in the same way. Or, use your authority.” Y/N states, just like she had done before her mother dragged her out here. 

Chris almost chuckled at her straightforwardness, but he maintained his stoic demeanor, studying her with intensity. For a weak princess who had been sheltered all her life, she was really bold. Her ideologies seemed to differ from those of the rest of the Elysium people he had encountered.

An eerily familiar feeling spreads through him.

The silence between them lingered briefly as he observed her, wondering who exactly was this second princess. But while the Nightshade Prince ponders in his thoughts, the second princess is battling her own feelings. A tug at her heart, the want to call out for her Chan.

   “D-Do you believe we’ve met before, Prince Christopher?” Y/N interjected, breaking the quiet with a hint of uncertainty, hint of something else.

Chris raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest.

   “Is this some sort of flirty remark used in your Elysium Kingdom?” He teased lightly, watching for her reaction with a faint amusement.

One which he easily gets with her stunned gaze, and lips parting slightly in shock.

Composing herself, she dropped her gaze, her voice quieter. “You simply looked… familiar.”

Part of her wished he would recognize her, wished she would clear his misunderstanding. While another part accepted that his failure to do so was probably for the best.

   “I have been in the White Mountains of the North for the past decade. It is highly unlikely we crossed paths, even more so for a Princess like yourself.” Chris replied, his demeanor returning to its usual composed state.

Her wonders of where he had disappeared, were finally answered. 

Of course she had questions, she had many questions but her voice refused to come out, mind and heart battling with conflicted thoughts and emotions. Her mother’s warnings, her own doubts and self-deprecating thoughts clashing against her want to pull her once only true friend into an embrace. 

Instead, she bowed her head. 

   “I must have made a mistake then.”

Chris softened slightly at the downturn of her expression, his brows easing as he stood upright. The familiar feeling gnawed at him. His heart hammered in his chest.

   “Have you ever ventured to the deep end of the Grand Forest river, Princess?” Chris asked, his tone serious, his eyes holding a mixture of earnestness and concern.

A doubtful worry.

A desperate attempt.

Y/N froze, feeling the weight of his question. Stiffening at his awaiting figure before she slowly glanced up to meet his gaze, uncertain of how to respond truthfully.

   “I have not.” She found herself lying, the words slipping out almost automatically.

All but a white lie. Her mind concluded.

Silence settled between them, and Chris took in a deep breath, finally coming to his own conclusion. 

He crossed his arms, his gaze flickered over to the faint redness peeking through her makeup, the previous day’s bruise healing. 

   “How is it that a Princess is allowed to be treated in such a manner in your so-called ‘civilized’ society?” Chris questioned, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness.

Y/N raised a hand instinctively to cover her cheek, her head turning in the direction Lady Katherine had stomped off. Bringing her back to her harsh reality.

Once again, the second princess easily controlled her emotions, as she met his gaze. It was no big secret, Lady Katherine had always paraded around her status as the Second Elysium Princess’ mother. It wouldn’t be too long before the foreign guests were made aware of who she truly was.

What expression will Chan make when he finds out about her less-than royal status? She wondered. 

   “What you witnessed was a mother simply disciplining her child.” She explained, catching him off guard with her response.

His brows contorted in confusion, eyes squinting as he studied her face. 

   “Are you not the child of the King and Queen?” Chris asked, genuinely confused.

She looked just like the King. She shared lots of similar features with Princess Sienna, he would have never guessed they weren’t full sisters.

   “I am the daughter of His Highness the King, and yes, the Queen is mother of all royal children. But the lady who bore me is Lady Katherine, my mother.” Y/N clarified, watching his reaction carefully.

Chris stared at Y/N, trying to process this unconventional family structure. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a mocking laugh.

   “The King here runs around having his fun and bringing children into the world, yet your society calls us ‘uncivilized’?” Chris’ words pierced through Y/N, who glanced around quickly to see if anyone had heard his damning words.

   “Worry not. There is no one around.” He reassured her, though his eyes involuntarily flicked towards the hedges where he had previously hidden.

   “But I guess he still honors his Royal reputation, as you’ve still gotten a title and allowed you to reside on the palace grounds.” Chris mused aloud, while Y/N remained silent.

Everything Christopher had just said struck a nerve of truth. Both embarrassing and painfully true. Despite carrying the title of “Princess,” Y/N knew she could never truly embody it.

But of course a crown prince like himself would never be able to understand that.

   “Is it not like that in Nightshade?” Her voice is quiet.

Chris crossed his arms, a half-smile playing on his lips. “We choose one Queen. We’re quite a romantic clan.” He proclaimed proudly, standing tall almost.

His words, though tinged with a hint of cockiness, answered many of Y/N’s unspoken questions. She bit her lip, wondering if he had made his choice.

She recalled the warmth in his eyes as he stared at Sienna. Would he have looked at her like that if she had stepped forward? If she had been bold enough to call him “Chan” right here, right now?

No.

He hadn’t looked at her at all.

He looked down at her because compared to a Sienna, she looked nothing like a princess.

Y/N’s eyes instinctively searched for the crystal bird pendant he had earlier displayed proudly, only to find it discreetly tucked away beneath the collar of his jacket.

But before she could ask about it, before she could perhaps convince herself to tell him about its origins, Chris’ head snapped toward the direction of the trail leading back to the banquet, his eyes narrowing.

   “Someone is coming.” The Prince stated abruptly.

Immediately Y/N takes a step back, and seeing her do so, the confused prince is easily able to interpret her expression.

She did not want to be seen with him.

Of course, she was a Royal from Elysium, unlike his princess, she probably hated his kind, his people, like everyone else in this nation.

He sighed, retreating back into the hiding place among the shadows. Turning his head in an unbothered stance, his eyes met Han’s stunned gaze.

   “My princess!” It was Anna’s voice, sent to escort Y/N back to her chambers as Lady Katherine had ordered.

The young girl hurried to guide her mistress through the dimly lit garden while Y/N stole one last glance at the hedges where the Warrior Prince had vanished. Emotions swirled within her.

Shame, embarrassment, sadness.

Regret.

   “Why didn’t you come out sooner? It’s not polite to eavesdrop, you know?” Chris chided from the shadows once the two men were alone. As if he hadn't done the exact same thing.

   “I would have, but it was quite difficult. The Second Princess had already seemed quite flustered after seeing you.” Han explained as they emerged, the Prince and his guard making their way down the garden path. 

Chris glanced back briefly towards the direction the second princess had vanished into, her surprised expression, her narrowed gaze.

Suddenly he recalled the young lady who had approached him at the Queen’s palace the morning prior, the familiarity of her voice, her sharp gaze. He faltered in his steps.

   “I guess we have met.” He muttered a tinge amused, garnering a look of curiosity from his guard.

The Prince shook his head, changing the topic.

   “Did you find out why Princess Sienna didn’t recognize me? Or was she pretending because someone might have overheard?” Chris inquired, concern evident in his voice.

Han sighed, knowing his master had been eagerly anticipating a different outcome.

   “Apparently, Princess Sienna was in a carriage accident in Melgarde. She was bedridden for quite some time.” Han revealed, his eyes reflecting Chris’ surprise and sadness.

The prince’s expression softened at such news. Although she was well now, as he had seen, she must have been in a great deal of pain.

   “Lady Alyssa mentioned that Sienna struggled to recognize many of the young ladies here. It’s been years since she was last in this palace, and perhaps her injury and the long recovery that followed may have affected her memories of growing up here.” Han continued, observing Chris’ somber mood.

Chris was at a loss for words.

Why was fate so cruel?

He wanted to do nothing but reunite with the one girl that had always lingered in his mind, in his thoughts. Yet, here he was, unable to do any of that. Han placed his hand on the Prince’s shoulder, giving it a soft press.

   “Worry not. Think of it as another opportunity. Another chance for you to reconnect with her, without any secrets or hiding of identities—And let’s be honest, now you’re much more charming and handsome, you’ll easily win her over.” Han teased, trying to lighten the mood.

   “Was I not handsome and charming as a kid?” 

Leave it to Chris to point out the negative side of things.

   “You were quite scrawny and arrogant for your age back then. It was very easy to carry you too.” Han answered honestly, prompting a scoff from Chris, but he couldn’t refute.

   “Let’s return before they suspect we’re up to something.” Chris muttered, the two men heading back towards the festivities, leaving behind the quiet garden and the tumultuous emotions that had stirred in its midst. ──────────────────────── Y/N stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. Her cheeks remained flushed, the redness lingering even after she had scrubbed away all her makeup. Embarrassment surged anew. She hadn’t expected to encounter the Warrior Prince, let alone for him to see her in such a disheveled state.

To laugh at her rank.

Now he knew her true status.

How lowly she was compared to Princess Sienna, how plain she must have seemed in his eyes. He might not have even considered her a princess before her introduction, and he hadn’t acknowledged her presence back then either.

Tears pricked at her eyes, catching the dim light of her chambers. His words echoed in her mind, his question about the forest, the place where they had met. 

She had lied straight to his face.

And now she cried.

Should she have confessed the truth? That the girl he thought of as a dear friend was nothing but a lowly princess, unworthy to stand beside him, let alone befriend him?

Chris had once wondered how his princess would react upon discovering his princely identity. He had reassured himself that there was nothing to worry about. In the cold mountains of the north, he had come to that conclusion.

But clearly, he was wrong.

Instead the sharp Elysium princess took a deep breath, wiping her tears away and finding the strength she always used to hide her pain. 

She had made the right decision. 

It was nothing but a white lie.

Yes. A lie that would preserve her cherished memories of Chan, who had sought only her company and celebrated only her birthday. Looked at only her.

 A lie that would shield her from her heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

Prior to the arrival of the foreign envoys, the King’s Mistress had warned her daughter to stay cautious of the Nightshade Kingdom and their representatives. Yet, the Queen had declared that the second princess would become an unofficial host to the princes, particularly the Warrior Prince, an excuse that would keep him at arm’s length from her own daughter.

Of course, none of it went unnoticed by the cautious second princess, who wanted to do nothing more than avoid her childhood friend. The childhood friend who suddenly didn’t remind her of the scrawny, innocent boy anymore. Instead, she saw what everyone else did. 

A commanding presence with keen eyes and curt words, a no-nonsense young man. Handsome and mysterious.

If Y/N hadn’t glimpsed a tinge of his playful side in the garden that evening, she might have never seen a trace of Chan in him, although his words and demeanor had still remained guarded and brusque even in the presence of them two that night.

But still the lowly princess struggled. Y/N could not separate Chris from Chan, and the pain of it cut deep.

She was unsure of what she had expected. 

She had denied being the young princess who once visited their special spot by the river, the one who frequented The Grand Forest. She had let him misunderstand her, yet she couldn’t help but gnaw at her lips as she watched Chris, a smile lingering on his lips, his tone smooth and engaging, a stark contrast to the bluntness he had used with her, when he greeted Sienna.

An emotion simmered within her, elusive and overwhelming. But before it could consume her in the midst of the gathering, she was jolted back to reality by Prince Ian’s loud, carefree laughter. His loud chuckle of carried with the wind.

The royals were gathered at the table, basking in the afternoon warmth of a luncheon hosted in name by Princess Sienna. In truth, her day-younger sister had done the actual preparations. Sienna had not denied it this time. Perhaps, the Queen had given her a stern warning following Sienna’s previous defiance of her wishes the night of the royal dinner.

Although everyone smiled and engaged in conversation, an unspoken tension hung in the air. Sienna hesitated to glance at the foreign princes, either due to unfamiliarity with the situation or lingering childhood lessons about staying wary of Nightshade warriors.

The first princess aside, even the Elysium Crown Prince seemed cautious of the Warrior Prince across from him, yet avoiding meaningful conversation with Prince Hyunjin, who wasn’t important enough for Ian’s attention. 

The two crown princes exchanged discussions about politics and current events, probing each other’s nations’ positions through sweet talks. 

And even if Prince Ian didn’t quite fill in his title as Crown Prince, Chris could easily tell he was a weasel. a schemer, gathering secrets to use for his own advantage when he saw fit. 

Of course, he was his father’s son after all.

Yet, the second princess sat frustrated amongst them. Although Sienna made an excellent princess, with her graceful and generous nature, perfectly embodying an Elysium royal, she lacked the skills to entertain any political conversations, let alone foreign delegates. Perhaps the Queen mother must have noticed it as well, seeing as she ordered for Princess Y/N to be practically glued to the first princess, whenever it came to Sienna interacting with these foreign royals. Aiding her from the shadows. 

A place Y/N had never left to begin with.

Amidst her emotional turmoil and recent heartache, Y/N only wished she could escape this gathering. She feared that Chan might catch her stealing glances and misunderstand her longing gaze. 

Why shouldn’t he? She had denied any childhood connection with him.

Conflicted and uncertain, Y/N managed to keep her feelings in check. She turned her attention to the Sylvancrest prince, engaging him with genuine interest in tales of his voyages to distract herself from Prince Christopher and the Nightshade matters. Yet, as she laughed softly at something he said, she felt the intense gaze of the Warrior Prince upon her. Despite her attempts to dismiss it as coincidence, his eyes lingered, studying her.

When she looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes quickly softened and looked away, as if it were an accident. Moments later, his gaze shifted to Sienna, who was conversing with the Princess-consort. This time, his expression was gentle, even if his glance was fleeting.

Y/N couldn’t really blame anyone, even if she wanted to. Sienna had never confirmed that she was Chan’s childhood friend, she had merely been captivated by the crystal bird hanging around his neck. Perhaps it gave her a glimpse back to her memory from that day.

But her simple acknowledgment of it seemed to be enough for a friend desperate to reunite with her like they had once promised.

The very bird that had once belonged to Sienna herself.

Despite Y/N’s efforts to plant seeds of denial, Sienna’s inability to recall details of their shared childhood in the capital felt like one of the cruelest coincidences of all. 

What a harsh twist of fate. ──────────────────────── The leader of the Midnight Order found himself facing new and unexpected challenges. For years, he had navigated the night with ease, slipping through shadows without fear of detection. Yet despite the rigorous training he’d undergone in the harsh Northern Mountains, he was ill-prepared for the complexities of foreign terrain. To make matters worse, the Kingdom of Elysium was a vibrant and restless realm, alive with activity even after dark.

However, as the leader and sole shadow protector of his band of Midnight warriors accompanying his prince to this foreign kingdom, Minho was well-versed in completing his tasks with precision. By the time the palace was shrouded in the deep darkness that marked the end of the day, after enduring a long day of hearing Prince Ian boast about his prowess with sword and bow, Crown Prince Christopher knew upon seeing Minho in the darkness of his chambers that his warrior had discovered something significant.

Han stood guard, though it was more a precaution than a necessity, as the three warriors in the room had finely tuned hearing, honed over years of training.

   “The elite nobles of the Elysium King’s court have been making frequent visits to his throne room.” Minho reported quietly. 

   “Sometimes they even venture into the king's official study, despite all the revelry. These visits often stretch late into the night.”

Something was definitely amiss, and the Nightshade Prince felt a simmering anger as he grappled with the mystery behind it all. Worry crept in, fueling his unease about the schemes the Elysium royals and nobles might be plotting. He recalled the jabs Count Miller had made during the banquet and the palpable hostility from Prince Ian. He even remembered the way Sienna had avoided looking at him.

Had she begun to hate him? 

Did the years spent apart reshape her perspective, so that she no longer saw Nightshade as a nation with its own traditions and history? Instead as an enemy?

Was she afraid of him?

Minho’s sharp, low voice pulled Chris from his troubling thoughts. 

   “I will continue to monitor the situation. However, I suspect the Elysium Queen has more influence on what is happening than she admits.”

Han’s brows furrowed as he tried to recall any signs of underlying tensions from the Queen. All he remembered were her pleasant smiles as she clung to the king’s arm during the rare glimpses he had of her.

Chris leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the Midnight leader. 

   “She’s embedded her own people everywhere, keeping a watchful eye from the comfort of her parlor. I’ve already seen a few familiar faces slipping in and out of her palace.”

It wasn’t surprising to Chris. He had long suspected that the Queen was more than just her gracious demeanor and generous words. If the King’s mistress could cause trouble and strike the second princess, surely the Queen was capable of far more.

For a fleeting moment, Chris’ thoughts drifted back to the second princess. To her surprised expression when he saw her in the garden that evening, the red flush on her cheeks from her mother’s “discipline.”

He suddenly remembered her stepping away from him, afraid someone might see her engaging in a conversation with him. Perhaps, looking down on him.

The warrior prince remembered her soft giggle. The one that had caught his attention amidst his conversation at the luncheon earlier that day. Watching as her eyes crinkled, fingers masking her lips to muffle the delicate sound that came through.

His hand reached towards the crystal bird necklace, gripping it softly in his palms as he bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated. 

Why was he suddenly fixating on a princess he hadn’t known about until a few days ago?

Chris found the distraction unsettling and did not like it at all.

Her presence irked him.

Although the Nightshade Prince noticed that the second princess’s eyes always narrowed into a scowl whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, he couldn’t help but feel irritated.

The feeling was mutual it seemed.

After every encounter, Y/N’s stern tone and narrowed brows didn’t escape the observant prince. 

Unlike Sienna, who perpetually wore a warm smile and exuded a gentle, welcoming demeanor, Y/N was unflinchingly forthright. Her candidness was striking and at first, it even impressed Chris, especially when she added her voice to the complex debates among the princes. However, her views always seemed to oppose his, as if she were deliberately contradicting him.

It was clear she didn’t like him. (He was mistaken, of course.)

What the keen eyed Warrior Prince failed to see was that Y/N was, in fact, reflecting his own opinions in her way, articulating thoughts he would come to later.

If she made a controversial statement, the room would dismiss it as the naive blunders of a young lady unfamiliar with politics. A princess from Elysium would never publicly criticize her own nation. Especially a lowly princess like herself.

But if Chris, the crown prince of a rival kingdom, had expressed similar sentiments, the reaction would have been different. Harsh words and accusations would fly, tarnishing his reputation and insulting his people. Calling him uncivilized.

In reality, the second princess was always on his side, even if she told herself to keep her distance until it was time for him to leave. 

She would pretend their childhood friendship had ended with his cheesy, dimpled smile and promises of a reunion that carried with that summer breeze in the Grand Forest, was the last memory she had of him.

But fate seemed to have other plans. 

She continually found herself drawn into Prince Christopher’s orbit.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted as she gazed at the novel in Anna’s hand. The young maid’s face was alight with excitement as she held it out.

   “I finally managed to snag it for you, my lady.” Anna said, her enthusiasm evident.

Despite her usual disapproval of the princess’s obsession with romantic tales, Anna was always one step ahead in securing these stories for Y/N.

Y/N took the book, her emotions shifting as she held it. The love stories within had become an escape from her bleak reality, fueling dreams that suddenly felt unattainable for someone like her. 

She was royalty, but not royal enough . A princess, yes, but one often overlooked and forgotten. 

Such stories of perfect love seemed forever out of reach now.

   “Princess?” Anna’s bright eyes, brimming with hope, were impossible to ignore.

Even though the young maid pretended to be indifferent to these tales, she always listened intently as Y/N recounted them.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N accepted the novel, slipping once more into the realm of impossible happiness. ──────────────────────── The founding day celebrations had been postponed to coincide with the grand wedding of the Elysium Crown Prince and his future consort. Yet, the festivities seemed endless. Chris gazed out of the large window, which framed a perfect view of the rose garden, and immediately noticed a figure that seemed both out of place and captivating. 

Y/N.

She was seated under the gazebo, lost in the pages of a novel, her afternoon dress casual yet elegant.

When Chris had first discovered that his room overlooked the rose garden, he hadn’t paid it much attention. But seeing her there, so absorbed in her book, a wave of distraction washed over him before he swiftly composed himself and drew the curtains closed.

The following day, at the same time, with the sun still high and the warm afternoon breeze flowing through the garden, she was there again, holding the same novel. 

Chris found his curiosity piqued. Yet, agitated at the same time.

What could be so enthralling about that book that it drew her out again? She looked so at peace now but earlier she had crossed him over a discussion at the library.

On the third day, it was as if he had been expecting her. The new memory of their encounter earlier that day lingered bitterly, her deliberate avoidance still fresh in his mind. Her curt dismissal had stung his pride, yet the warrior prince found himself inexplicably drawn to observing her from the windowpane. 

Han had been talking about yet another celebratory dinner, but Chris remained silent, his gaze fixed on her in the distance.

Did she realize how much she irritated him? Her aloof and sometimes sharp demeanor, her lack of deference, all irked him.

Did she know how beautiful she was? 

The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the earring on her lobe. Subtle gestures that were just enough to capture the Nightshade prince’s attention.

Chris’ eyes traced the contours of her figure as she sat elegantly, yet casually, at the garden table. But as quickly as his gaze lingered, they were cast downward.

Damn, he was doing it again. 

Staring. 

What was wrong with him?

He chastised himself for the impropriety of his thoughts and the rudeness of watching a princess lost in her own world.

He should have been thinking about Sienna. He should be thinking about her sweet smile, her soft voice that reintroduced him to a familiar dessert they’d shared in the quiet of the forest as children. Her apology when she noticed that he was upset by what her sister had said.

Chris glanced to his right, finding Han waiting for a response to a question he hadn’t fully heard. Something about another royal dinner, as if the numerous gatherings he’d attended since arriving hadn’t been enough.

   “It seems Elysium revels in fanfare and celebrations.” The Nightshade Crown Prince chuckled, pulling the curtains shut.

Han hummed in agreement.

   “Yes. Even Minho is exhausted. The palace grounds are bustling day and night, with no respite for him to wander in the dark.”

Chris recalled how Minho had been in and out of his room all night, avoiding patrol guards, and how he nearly tackled the poor warrior the first time he snuck in.

But, despite all the criticism and his reservations, not all these events were unwelcome. 

They provided glimpses of Sienna, giving Chris hope for a chance to exchange words and be enchanted by her smile. Perhaps help her remember some of the things they enjoyed laughing about as children. Lately, however, wherever Sienna went, Y/N followed.

The second princess, almost her exact opposite in grace and demeanor.

Chris scowled at the closed window, a sour taste in his mouth. 

   “Prince Ian wants you to join him in the garden this afternoon. Apparently, he wants to show off his archery skills.” Han said with a hint of amusement, leaning back onto the wood of the grand door.

Chris frowned at the mention of the garden, the very place where Y/N was currently sitting. 

   “Send an attendant. I’ll be delayed.” He dismissed with a groan, sinking back into his recliner. He had no interest in engaging in passive-aggressive conversation with the second princess, or in witnessing Ian’s mediocre archery skills.

But Chris hadn’t been able to stay away, despite his best efforts. 

As he arrived at the garden, he found the atmosphere tense and charged with unease. Prince Hyunjin was absent, leaving only the Crown Prince Ian, the two princesses, and a young Nightshade warrior in training.

Prince Christopher’s attendant.

The young boy stood rooted in place, eyes on the ground, visibly terrified.

Ian had grown up under his father’s shadow, inheriting not only the title of Crown Prince, but also a sense of superiority and disdain for those he deemed beneath him. At the academy, he had developed a cruel pastime, using his archery skills to intimidate and humiliate others. What began with targeting fruits and inanimate objects had escalated to using live targets. Servants, humble nobles, anyone he felt he could dominate.

And now, in the pretense of afternoon tea, Ian was showcasing his skill with a bow and arrow. His target, already picked out. He was showing off, and had been goading Chris’ young aide, a warrior in training who seemed weaker compared to the seasoned soldiers. 

Even Ian’s choice of target revealed his own inadequacies as an archer, highlighting how pathetic his skills truly were.

The Elysium Prince’s taunts were laced with condescension and veiled threats, masking his unchecked power with laughter and mockery. Sienna, watched in silence, troubled by Ian’s behavior, while Y/N struggled to contain her anger at the blatant injustice. 

The foreign warrior prince and his guard watched in disbelief as the scene unfolded. 

   “Usually, a bow and arrow are used to protect people. But here, the traditions seem different,” Chris remarked, his anger barely concealed behind a veneer of calm.

Ian’s expression soured. “Don’t be such a downer. He’s just an attendant.” He retorted nonchalantly, his dismissive tone making Chris’ gaze narrow.

   “Then use me as the target. He’s just my attendant after all.” Chris challenged, aware that Ian would never risk breaching the peace agreement by aiming at him. 

If Ian dared and attempted to draw an arrow at him, Minho or Han would intervene before he could react. Han’s fingers hovered over the hilt of his sword, ready to act.

Sienna gripped Y/N’s hand tightly, her face a mask of fear and worry as the sudden tension mounted. A silence fell between the two crown princes until Ian grunted in concession.

   “Fine then.” He said, scanning the area and locking eyes with a young attendant among his own servants. “You, get over here.”

Another young boy froze, wide-eyed and trembling. This time the second princess couldn’t hold her tongue, unable to stay silent any longer. Slowly, she made her way to the two young men, her legs moving on their own. Sienna watched with a look of concern, hoping her justice-driven sister wouldn’t act recklessly.

   “Brother, you shouldn’t cause such a scene.” Y/N finally interjected, her voice steady despite the palpable tension. 

   “The Nightshade Prince doesn’t seem comfortable with this game.”

Ian’s eyes flashed with irritation at Y/N’s interruption. He glanced at Sienna and then at the second princess, who seemed to be forgetting her place. 

The Elysium crown prince laughed, his tone mocking. 

   “Fine then, why don’t you play with me, my dear sister?”

Y/N stiffened, suddenly caught off guard by the Prince’s audacity. Sienna stood up, shocked by his words, while Chris wondered if such behavior was common among the royals here. 

And they called his country barbaric.

   “Surely you’re not serious?” Sienna exclaimed, horror evident as she looked between her siblings.

   “It’s just a friendly game between siblings.” Ian taunted with a sinister grin. “Isn’t it?”

   “I accept your challenge.” Y/N declared firmly, though her hands trembled as she clutched her dress.

   “Princess Y/N, you don’t have to.” Chris finally interjected, stepping forward. 

   “Ian, this isn’t necessary.” He said, his voice calm but firm.

Nothing about this situation was sane. Even the second princess, who Chris thought would be level headed, proved to be prideful and stubborn.

But Y/N, with a boldness that surprised even herself, stood her ground. 

   “It’s just a friendly game between siblings.” She insisted, her gaze unwavering despite knowing the potential consequences of defiance.

Chris glanced around the courtyard, his eyes narrowing as he observed the absurdity unfolding before him. 

Prince Ian, standing with a bow in hand and a smirk on his face that exuded arrogance. While Princess Y/N, stood a few paces away, appeared both defiant and uncomfortable. 

Han stood frozen, shock evident on his face as he exchanged glances with his frustrated Prince.

   “You’re too short. Place it on your shoulder.” Prince Ian taunted, gesturing toward the apple in Y/N’s slightly trembling hands. 

The stubborn princess straightened her back, determination in her gaze. With a forced smile, she placed the apple on her shoulder, trying to balance it as best she could.

Ian smirked triumphantly, drawing the bowstring taut. The tension in the air was palpable as everyone held their breath, acutely aware of Ian’s skill with a bow but also the wrongness of the situation. 

Chris felt a surge of anger. His patience snapping as he glared at Prince Ian.

   “This must be a joke.” Chris muttered, shifting his gaze between Ian and the silent Sienna, who refused to meet his eyes.

   “Prince Ian, this is not—” 

The arrow sliced through the air, cutting his words short before striking the apple cleanly and embedding itself into the tree behind Y/N. The second princess flinched. A sudden yelp escaped her lips as her hand instinctively went to her shoulder where the arrow had grazed her skin.

   “You distracted me, Prince Christopher.” Ian snapped, sucking his teeth, lowering his bow and turning a challenging glare towards Chris.

   “Y/N!” Sienna’s voice erupted amidst the tension.

Chris took a step forward, frustration simmering beneath the surface. 

   “This wasn’t a jest, Ian. You could have seriously hurt her.”

Ian’s expression darkened, wounded pride evident in his retort. 

   “It was just a game.” He said dismissively, waving off Chris’ concern.

The hurt princess winced slightly as she withdrew her hand from her shoulder, revealing bloodied fingers from where the arrow had grazed her. Sienna rushed forward, concern etched on her face as she examined Y/N’s injury.

   “I-It’s just a small nick.” Y/N assured her sister with a strained smile, though her discomfort was clear. 

Sienna bit her lip, suddenly unsure of how to address the situation in front of the guests, in front of the servants and the foreign attendants, not wanting to escalate matters.

   “Tsk. The sight of blood has fouled my mood.” Ian grumbled, setting down his bow with evident annoyance, while Chris shot him a frustrated look.

   “You’re just a guest here, Christopher. Don’t overstep your bounds.” Ian’s tone was laced with irritation.

The Warrior Prince clenched his jaw, fists tightening at his sides. He had respected Ian as a prince and a future leader of Elysium, but in that moment, he saw only a bully hiding behind his title.

The Crown Prince made a swift exit, leaving his sister to handle the aftermath.

Chris stood in his own silence after the Prince’s quick return. Inhaling sharply as he crossed his arms against his chest and took slow, deliberate steps towards the princesses. 

   “So this was the ‘friendly game’ between siblings?” He raised an eyebrow, disappointment and frustration clear in his eyes as he looked at Sienna, who had done nothing to prevent the situation.

He had expected at least her to say something. Even if both her siblings appeared to be insane, Sienna should have said something. But Chris’ gaze faltered, seeing Y/N scowl at him, even amidst her clear pain, a scowl that seemed so familiar to him now.

   “I advise you to keep these sarcastic remarks to yourself, Prince Christopher. It was nothing but a mistake.” Y/N interjected before Sienna could even begin to come up with something to say.

Chris’ gaze shifted to the injured but still defiant second princess, who took a sudden small step back under his cold scrutiny. The bravery she had shown moments ago had suddenly crumbled under his stern stare. He remained silent, looking between her faltering eyes and the hand covering her injured shoulder. She seemed vulnerable, a small bunny trembling under his gaze.

His brows narrowed, another surge of frustration and anger simmering within him. But he clenched his fist, composing himself.

   “The second princess claims to be fine. It’s just a small misunderstanding, Prince Christopher.” Sienna sighed softly, shielding her younger sister.

Chris exhaled, his gaze falling to the ground before he spoke. 

   “If Princess Sienna says so.” He finally said, his voice softening as he nodded at the first princess.

Then his eyes shifted back to the second princess, turning colder as he looked at her. 

Y/N’s chest tightened with a mix of hurt and disappointment. Chan’s disapproving look cut through her defenses, making her feel exposed and vulnerable, more so than the small nick on her shoulder ever could.

Y/N was ruining herself in his eyes, and it was a torment far worse than the physical pain. 

It didn’t feel like a simple white lie anymore.

─────────────────────── to be continued.

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Crystal Bird - Chapter 4

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, parental abuse, somewhat proofread A/N: no cause I actually got mad at myself for this chapter 😭 Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

CHAPTER 4 ───────────────────

As the day of the foreign guests’ arrival approached, Princess Y/N ever so diligent, personally oversaw the final arrangements. And when the hour arrived, she stood poised and composed, ready to greet the foreign envoys with grace. Though it was never necessary for her to do so. The attendants and the Royal aids that were there to receive the delegates were taken aback by her presence, insisting they had it under control. The princess did not relent, making sure until the final hour, she was there to represent the Elysium royal family.

The exquisite carriage of the Eastern sea nation, Sylvancrest, arrived with its own fanfare, heralded by their band of guards and wagons laden with gifts. The Sylvancrest flag fluttered proudly as a footman hurried to open the main carriage.

Y/N, though nervous, maintained a calm expression as she prepared to greet the young prince who emerged from the carriage, followed by another young man in formal attire.

   “Greetings to the Prince of Sylvancrest. Welcome to the Kingdom of Elysium. I am Y/N, the second princess.” She greeted with a flawless curtsy.

She stole a quick glance at the handsome prince, his long hair shimmering in the wind. Prince Hyunjin smiled warmly and returned her greeting with a bow.

   “We are honored that our humble kingdom has been invited to celebrate with Elysium, and especially that a princess like yourself has come to greet us on our arrival.” His tone was smooth, honey-like, and the smile on his lips unwavering.

   “Thank you for gracing us with your attendance, Prince Hyunjin. The Kingdom of Sylvancrest has flourished over the past decade, and I am eager to learn more about it.” Y/N’s stance was gracious, her words charming, revealing her natural gift for diplomacy.

He then introduced the quiet man beside him. “This is my personal knight, Seungmin.”

The knight, bowed solemnly, acknowledging his introduction with quiet respect.

Y/N welcomed the honored guests, as did the Royal aides. Turning to the countless attendants awaiting behind her, she instructed them to lead Prince Hyunjin to Emerald Hall, his designated residence for the upcoming weeks. The Sylvancrest prince bid her goodbye with another polite smile.

As the Sylvancrest party departed, Y/N felt a sudden quiet settle over, contrasting sharply with the earlier flurry of activity. Her mother was right. This role was not typically suited for a princess. Yet, she stood there, determined and resolute. The afternoon air was warm, a slight breeze keeping her company as she awaited the arrival of the next foreign dignitaries. Soon, the approaching sounds of horses and carriage wheels announced the arrival of the Nightshade delegation. Tension hung palpably in the air around her as the infamous Nightshade envoy halted. Whispers among her attendants mingled with the soft breeze. Y/N eyed the band of warrior knights in their formal uniforms, mounted on their dark horses, waiting for their prince’s exit from the carriage. There was a mix of nervousness and curiosity coursing through her.

For some reason, she was even more nervous than she had been during Sylvancrest’s arrival. Was it because of the fearsome reputation of Nightshade, the warrior kingdom that even her maids and attendants spoke of in hushed tones? Or was it the lingering effect of her soft spot for a certain boy from Nightshade, that clouded her mind?

When the carriage door opened, Y/N smiled expectantly, ready to greet the Nightshade prince. Her eyes immediately fell on the young man who emerged, stiff and composed in his military uniform. Despite his handsome yet rigid demeanor, it was evident he wasn’t the crown prince. A flicker of surprise crossed Y/N’s face, quickly masked by a polite welcoming stance as he approached.

   “Greetings, I am Han, Crown Prince Christopher’s personal guard.” He introduced himself. 

The familiar name momentarily softened Y/N’s expression. She had almost forgotten about Han, the young boy she had once mistaken for a servant boy. The one who seemed to relish the treats she had sent his way. And despite her encouragement for him to join her in the open, he had steadfastly remained hidden, diligently watching over from the shadows of the forest. A sense of gratitude for Chan’s companion spread across her face, causing the personal guard in front of her to raise a curious brow at her expression.

The princess caught herself, reminding herself that he was not the Han she should feel grateful to. This Han was just the personal guard to the Nightshade Prince

The missing Nightshade Prince. 

Her eyes darted to the empty carriage Han had stepped out from. The prince’s guard seemed to have sensed her thoughts. An uneasy feeling pricked at him, but he managed to maintain his composure. How could he even begin to explain that the crown prince had jumped from the carriage near the Grand Forest, laughing as he instructed Han to concoct an excuse? Instead, he cleared his throat, and attempted to smile, though it appeared strained under the scrutiny of the aides that stood with her.

   “My prince was captivated by the clamor and richness of Elysium’s streets. He simply wished to explore closer.” Han explained.

The two royal aides shared a look, while Y/N blinked a little stunned.

   “Has he ventured out already? Is that permissible?” Y/N asks, a genuine curiosity etched across her face.

Han nodded reassuringly, a little proud even. “He is a warrior prince, and he is not alone. The bustling streets intrigued him, and he desired a closer look. He will return promptly, I assure you.”. 

The warrior guard attempted to gauge the expression of the young lady in front of him, wondering if his excuse had been satisfactory or if the prince’s absence itself was perceived as rude.

Y/N pondered for a moment, a sense of understanding washing over her. It made sense that the foreign prince, unfamiliar with Elysium would be curious. Turning to her attendants, she instructed again.

   “Once Crown Prince Christopher arrives, escort him to Ruby Hall. Ensure the Nightshade guards are settled in their quarters.”

Then, she turned back to face the warrior guard. 

   “Sir Han, welcome to the Kingdom of Elysium. I am Princess Y/N, Second Princess of Elysium.” She offered a respectful bow.

Han blinked in surprise, his eyes widened in shock as the introduction settled in his mind.

   “P-P-Princess?” He stammered, quickly returning a deep bow.

The princess chuckled softly, her demeanor gentle despite the tension. Some of her servants exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain how she could laugh in the presence of a Nightshade warrior. The aides shifted in their spots uncomfortably. But Y/N didn’t seem to notice, nor did she really care.

   “No need to be startled, Sir Han. Today has caught us both off guard.” Y/N reassured him, her smile warm.

   “Take Sir Han to his room at Ruby Hall as well.” The princess instructed another servant who promptly appeared by Han’s side.

   “I look forward to seeing you and your prince at the royal dinner tomorrow evening.” She bid farewell with a nod, her gentle smile lingering.

As Han followed the nervously fidgeting servant towards Ruby Hall, still a little upset of being thrown to the dogs by his prince and left to navigate this foreign palace alone, his thoughts lingered more prominently on the encounter he just had. Despite the discomfort among her entourage of servants and attendants, the princess had managed to put him somewhat at ease. Her introduction had struck him. 

Princess Y/N, the Second Princess of Elysium. 

Did Elysium always have more than one princess?

She seemed too mature to have been born during Han and Chris’ time in the White Mountains. She wasn’t afraid to look him in the eyes while everyone around her stood stiff. His brows furrowed with uncertainty, a question lingering in his mind. Could she possibly be Chris’ princess?

Determination hardened in his gaze. He needed to confirm his suspicions, but it wouldn’t be easy, especially with everyone around him on edge. The guard eyes the tense servant leading him, coming to a conclusion that he would receive no help from this jittery attendant. The notorious reputation of Nightshade preceded him in Elysium, evident in the stiff demeanor of the maids and servants who crossed paths with the warriors. Prince Christopher would not take kindly to this reception, Han concluded, already anticipating his irritation.

But when the warrior prince was finally escorted to his chambers after his impromptu excursion, Han couldn’t ignore the murmurs of the maids spoke about his master’s striking looks and mysterious aura. Daring to draw comparisons with the apparently handsome Sylvancrest Prince. Though they were still on edge from his sharp, cold gaze. 

Glaring at Chris, who seemed to act oblivious to the chaos he had caused on their journey to the Elysium Palace, Han couldn’t help but inject a hint of attitude into his tone.

   “Did you enjoy your trip, my prince?”

   “I couldn’t navigate my way. It’s much different traveling through this side of the Grand Forest. If not for Minho, I probably would’ve gotten lost.” He shook his head with a wry smile.

   “How did you hold up?” He asks, seeing the clear look of frustration on his loyal friend’s face.

   “Surprisingly?...Well.” Han recalled, making Chris look at him with a doubtful gaze.

   “The excuse of your absence seemed believable, and I was received well.” He explained.

   “That’s surprising. I would have thought they’d regard us with more caution.” He pondered, eyeing the door the rigid servant that had escorted him here had left through.

   “Oh, they do.” Han nodded. “But the princess that greeted me was anything but cautious, or she did a great job at hiding it.” 

Hearing the mention of a princess has Chris sitting up, and Han could almost read the curiosity in the older man’s eyes.

   “The second princess of Elysium, Princess Y/N, had greeted our envoy.” Han informed.

Chris raised a brow. “Second princess?”

   “Yes, I have confirmed it, she is indeed the second princess.”

The prince fell silent, his mind racing with questions about Elysium’s royal family dynamics. How had he not known about the existence of a second princess?

Han observed Chris closely once again, noting the furrowed brows and the intensity in his eyes. Clearly, the second princess’ existence sparked a new train of thought in Chris’ mind, mirroring the thoughts Han had earlier.

   “It seems the knowledge wasn’t widely shared beyond the Elysium court.” Han ventured cautiously. “She must have been quite sheltered.” 

   “Yet, Princess Y/N seemed... accommodating, despite our reputation.” Han continued.

Chris nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression settling over his features. 

   “Accommodating.” He repeated, as if testing the word. “That’s unexpected.”

Then he turns to study Han’s expression, a certain regret washing over him for missing the arrival.

   “Did you sense anything... unusual about her?” His tone had softened.

The younger man paused to consider his response.

   “She seemed composed, yet there was a warmth about her. She greeted us with respect, but I have not confirmed weather she is your princess.”

Han was honest. He sensed Chris’ question carried deeper implications, but he could only confirm what he had seen and heard in the brief time since their arrival.

The crown prince mulled over Han’s observations, his mind clearly at work. 

   “I’ll need to meet her myself.” He finally declared, a determined glint in his eye. “Tomorrow evening, at the royal dinner. Ensure I’m introduced properly.”

Princess Y/N. 

He finally had a name, yet now he was unsure if it belonged to his princess. ──────────────────────── Lady Katherine seethed with anger, her steps echoing her fury as she entered her residence. The luncheon, meticulously planned to showcase her elegance and grace, had been ruined by the unexpected presence of the Queen. But it wasn’t just that, which led to the mistress blowing out steam of anger. It was through the uninvited Queen that she learned of her daughter, standing in the blazing sun, greeting foreign envoys as if she were a common servant.

The heavy door to the sitting area swung open with a force that started both the Princess and her maid, who had just returned from welcoming the guests. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Before either of them could react, Lady Katherine’s palm met Y/N’s cheek with a sharp slap that reverberated through the silent room.

Y/N staggered back, her hand flying to her stinging face. A gasp escaped Anna’s lips while the princess stared at the air in shock. The initial hurt in her eyes immediately morphed into defiance, she slowly faced her mother’s piercing glare.

   “Do you know how embarrassed I felt!?” Lady Katherine’s voice pierced the air, her anger palpable.

   “To find out a princess who has not even made a public appearance, greeting foreign princes, foreign warriors?” Her words were sharp, accusatory.

Tears had already welled up in Y/N’s eyes, but she refused to back down, meeting her mother’s furious expression stubbornly.

   “You seem to forget your place. You are the Second Princess of Elysium.” Her mother continued, her voice trembling with anger. 

   “Your actions already have people whispering. How can you laugh in the presence of those beastly Nightshade warriors? What will people think?”

Lady Katherine’s concern for appearances was well-known. The mother who only cared about what others thought would never understand. How can Y/N explain to her reputation-obsessed mother that her gestures went beyond mere stubbornness. A princess personally greeting foreign envoys could foster goodwill and deepen alliances, making them feel more honored to be invited to the Kingdom of Elysium. Yet, explaining this to her mother seemed futile at that moment. So Y/N simply chose to stand silently under her mother’s intense scrutiny, her cheek tingling from the mother’s strike.

Damn. That was going to leave a bruise.

And indeed, the next day, despite Anna’s best efforts to conceal it with makeup, the bruise on Y/N’s cheek was unmistakable. She could see the frustration in the young maid’s gaze, perhaps from her futile attempts to cover the mark, or from the sight of her princess sitting here like this.

Anna dabbed gently at the bruise, her touch soothing yet laced with worry. The cloud of makeup powder hung in the air between them as she hesitated, contemplating another suggestion.

   “My lady, perhaps we can try—”

   “Let us skip this evening’s dinner.” Y/N interjected firmly, cutting off any further suggestions from Anna.

Though the swelling had subsided, the traces of Lady Katherine’s reprimand lingered, stark against Y/N’s skin. The princess understood all too well that attending the dinner with such visible marks would speak volumes about the unrest within their carefully curated public facade. It would reflect poorly on the king who preached peace and unity among the royal family.

As Y/N glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she felt a pang of frustration stir within her. 

   “But my lady! You’ve been preparing for this dinner for the past week, how can you not attend? Surely if try something—”  

   “Mother will come up with an excuse. She always does.” She remarked bitterly, her voice tinged with resignation. 

Not that her absence would make a difference.

But as Y/N made the decision to stay cooped up in her bedchamber, the Queen summoned her. Reluctantly, Y/N draped a soft fabric over the lower half of her face to conceal Lady Katherine’s mark as she made her way through the court. She cursed under her breath, frustration simmering within her.

Arriving at the Queen’s chambers, Y/N straightened her posture and gathered her composure. The fabric provided a flimsy shield against the curious glances of courtiers who whispered among themselves. They knew something was amiss, but etiquette demanded they not pry. Y/N could feel the hot gaze of the first princess looking at her with concern. Despite her sister’s silent plea for an explanation, the unwavering gaze of the Queen mother held her at bay.

   “What happened to you?” the Queen inquired, her tone curt yet tinged with a knowing edge that made Y/N uneasy.

   “I’ve caught a cold, your majesty. It is nothing dire.” The lie slipped off Y/N’s tongue effortlessly.

The Queen sighed with resignation. She motioned for Y/N to relax from her formal bowing stance. 

   “That is a shame. It doesn’t seem like you would be able to attend tonight's dinner then, I presume?”

Y/N hesitated briefly, gathering her thoughts before nodding.

   “Yes, I shall recuperate in my chambers tonight. But surely by the banquet, I will feel better.”

The Queen responded with a disinterested “hmm,” her attention shifting to Sienna, who stood anxiously nearby. 

   “Then Sienna shall oversee the final proceedings of tonight’s dinner.” She declared.

Sienna hesitated, clearly torn between her concern for Y/N and her duty to obey. 

   “Ah, but Mother…” She started, but the frosty look from the Queen silenced her protests.

   “Yes, Mother,” Sienna conceded reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly towards Y/N with a mix of guilt and apprehension.

   “I will hand over the final arrangements to Princess Sienna.” Y/N’s voice was firm, despite the turmoil within. 

She knew that the royal dinner that was bound to end smoothly would be credited to Sienna, receiving accolades from the guests for her supposed organizational prowess. But Y/N accepted it gracefully, like she always did.

As the second princess was dismissed from the Queen’s presence, she felt a pang of bitterness. She could sense Sienna’s conflicted feelings, unable to decipher the emotions hidden beneath the carefully arranged fabric that shielded Y/N’s injured cheek, yet she only tore away her gaze. Heavily reminded that the second princess will always stay in the shadow of her sister.

Stepping outside the Queen’s palace with her guard by her side, Y/N began to walk back to the West Wing Palace. However, she stopped in her tracks when she noticed an unfamiliar figure lingering in the outdoor corridors. Her brow furrowed as she distinguished him immediately, dressed in the dark attire typical of the Nightshade delegation.

He seemed to sense her presence almost immediately, turning to meet her gaze directly above the cover of her veil. She stiffened momentarily, taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

   “Shall I remove him from here, your highness?” Her guard asked, moving closer with a protective stance.

Y/N raised a hand, signaling for him to stand back. “Stay here. He’s a foreign guest.” She commanded, making her way cautiously towards the warrior.

Chris watched the veiled figure approaching him, his expression unreadable. Her gaze softened as a feeling of familiarity washed over her. Yet Y/N also couldn’t help but notice his striking appearance up close, a little taken aback even. Why were these foreign guests so good looking? She briefly recalled the handsome Sylvancrest Prince. Her sudden intense studying gaze caused Chris to still, a little flustered even. But he quickly composes himself.

   “I was lost.” He stated simply, breaking the silence, his hands clasped behind him as he maintained his stance, conjuring up a lie even before she asks.

She arched an eyebrow, seeing through his flimsy excuse but chose not to call him out on it directly.

   “Are you with the Nightshade delegation?” She inquired instead, eyeing his attire critically.

   “Yes, my name is Christopher.” He replied, inclining his head respectfully.

Y/N’s gaze remained knowing as she played along with his introduction, well aware that he was likely the prince of Nightshade despite his attempt at withholding his title.

   “This is the Queen’s palace. If you were to be caught by her knights, it wouldn’t reflect well on your master. I suggest you return the way you came.” She advised, gesturing towards the direction he had probably snuck in from.

   “Ah, I shall. Thank you, Miss.” Chris nodded, his eyes following her pointed finger for a quick glance.

   “And if you were wish to explore the palace, I suggest you ask a servant of Ruby Hall, Prince Christopher.” She added, curtsying gracefully.

Chris was momentarily surprised by her sharp observation, his curiosity piqued. He watched as she turned and walked away, and he followed her instructions with a mixture of respect and intrigue. As he glanced back a few times at her retreating figure, he couldn’t help but wonder why her face was concealed.    “Do I even ask?” Han’s expression conveyed weariness.

Chris chuckled softly at Han’s exasperated expression.

   “I was just trying to peek around the royal court.” Chris admitted with a shrug, his tone light.

Han glanced around the serene garden of Ruby Hall, relieved to have finally located Chris after a morning spent searching. His expression was a that of concern, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of pleading, as Chris sat leisurely enjoying afternoon tea. It wasn’t that his prince had always kept him on his toes. The mountains of the North had never allowed Chris to sneak around or relax, especially under Commander Seo’s watchful eyes. However, upon their return to Elysium, that carefree side of the warrior prince, long left behind, seemed to resurface effortlessly. It brought Han immense relief to witness Chris laugh and smile once more, like he had done when they were children. But Han couldn’t shake his caution. After all, they weren’t children anymore.

   “We have Minho for that. You are to stay under my protection.” Han asserted, his gaze unwavering.

   “Fine, fine. I won’t stray too far from you.” The prince conceded.

Han sighed softly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He knew that despite Chris’ occasional curiosity, his loyalty to duty was unquestionable. But he was also worried this prince of his was running around trying to locate a certain princess.

   “What if the she does not remember you?” Han’s words carried a cautious concern, reflecting the uncertainty that gnawed at him.

Chris paused thoughtfully, his fingers reaching for a raspberry cookie among the snacks laid out before him. He smiled softly, taking a deliberate bite that brought a familiar taste.

   “We promised not to forget.” Chris replied, his voice gentle yet resolute.

Sometimes Han wondered, when he watched his prince closely, his thoughts drifting to their years in the biting cold of the North. He often wondered if the princess, who Chris held in his heart, ever reminisced about their past meetings with the same longing and reverence. Did she, too, find solace in memories during moments of hardship?

A deep breath escaped Han as he contemplated the uncertainties that lay ahead. 

   “Then tonight’s dinner will finally quell all your curiosity.” He stated with quiet assurance.

Chris nodded taking another bite of the cookie, the anticipation of the upcoming dinner palpable in the air between them. 

Finally. 

The warrior prince was usually a patient person. He had to be, especially when all he had done these past years was wait. Yet, he fidgeted in his formal attire, the beautifully crafted clothing making him stand out. He could feel Han’s watchful gaze on him, but his own attention was fixed on the servant who had arrived to escort them to the dinner hall, maintaining his stoic composure.

The guard kept his eyes peeled, shadowing behind his master as they were led through the grand halls, the intricate designs of the carpets under, a testament to the wealth and power of the Elysium crown. 

The room was as grand as one would expect, with high ceilings and a dazzling chandelier casting light over the assembled nobles of Elysium. Seats at the dinner tables were already occupied by important figures of Elysium court, all rising respectfully as the Nightshade Prince entered. It was a reception that slightly caught Prince Christopher off guard, though he concealed any surprise as he acknowledged their greetings. He was more accustomed to the rough and rowdy atmosphere of the training hall in the White Mountains, rather than such formalities. Nonetheless, he managed the situation with practiced ease, his attention caught by the whispers and cautious glances of the nobles, noblewomen and even their children as he was guided him to his seat, Han standing watchfully nearby.

Those whispers and glances only intensified with the arrival of the Sylvancrest Prince. Even Chris and his guard couldn’t help but stare starstruck at the man’s striking presence, his gentle smile standing out amidst the crowd. 

   “I am Prince Hwang Hyunjin, your highness, fourth prince of Sylvancrest.” Prince Hyunjin introduced himself as he took his place beside Chris, who nodded in acknowledgement.

Chris responded with a slight smile, extending his hand to shake Hyunjin’s offered hand. “And I am Christopher Bhang, Crown Prince of the Nightshade Kingdom.”

As if Hyunjin’s introduction triggered something, the nobles began to approach them, offering greetings and pleasantries before the arrival of the royal family. The princes exchanged a brief glance, silently acknowledging the sudden onslaught of honeyed words and feigned smiles from the Elysium aristocracy. A facade that didn’t escape their notice. Beneath the surface, both princes remained on edge, as did the nobles, particularly wary of the Warrior Prince.

The sudden announcement of the royal family’s arrival prompted everyone to return to their seats, the grand doors opening once more. In, swept the Elysium King, his queen on his arm, both shining in their exquisite attire. The king’s smile was wide, acknowledging the bows and curtsies from the assembled nobles. Chris observed them closely, at the Elysium king his father had always described as ‘sly-looking’, though their last meeting had been when they were young men. The queen, pretty and gentle in appearance, exuded a hidden shrewdness that didn’t escape the warrior prince’s keen gaze. Next came the announcement of the other members of the royal family. Following the king and queen were their crown prince, Prince Ian, and his fiancée, the daughter of a grand duke or some such title. Chris had only just managed to familiarize himself with their recent royal family news during the journey to Elysium. 

Then his gaze falters. His attention softened as his gaze fell upon the Princess. His eyes relaxed, taking in her graceful entrance.

Han narrows his brows, staring in both wonder and curiosity. Studying the princess closely. The two princesses were undoubtedly sisters, sharing striking similarities that he now concluded came from the King. The guard tried to get a glimpse behind the first princess, but the grand doors closed and the so-called second Princess he had encountered that morning was not present.

   “Ladies and gentlemen, let me unofficially introduce the first princess of Elysium, Princess Sienna. She will make her formal introduction at tomorrow’s banquet.” He announced proudly.

Sienna ever so gracefully, bows deeply with a curtsy she had perfected through the endless etiquette lessons. Her smile captivated the room, especially all the young men amongst the audience. Including Prince Christopher, who found himself momentarily entranced by the familiar yet unfamiliar face of Sienna. His hand instinctively reached for the crystal bird pendant around his neck, but instead, he felt the cool touch of the buttons on the high collar of his attire.

   “Princess Sienna had clearly put in tremendous effort for tonight’s dinner, despite her long journey back from Melgarde. We hope it meets your expectations.” The Queen’s acknowledgment drew a slight flinch from her, quickly masked by composed grace.

   “It wasn’t all my doing, the second princess had also aided very much.” Sienna boldly added, her smile unwavering, though she avoided meeting her mother’s disapproving glare.

   “Yes.” The king interjected with a chuckle. “My second daughter has unfortunately fallen ill and won’t be able to join us.”

He settled back into his seat, turning his attention to the foreign princes.

   “We hope tonight’s royal dinner leaves you with no complaints. We welcome you to our great kingdom.” He declared, raising his glass of wine in a toast.

   “Thank you for inviting us, your highness.” Hyunjin responded politely, raising his glass in return.

Chris inwardly sighed, his fingers tightening around his own glass.

   “We are honored you’ve prepared so much for our arrival. Including the Nightshade Kingdom to celebrate with you alludes to your generous reputation.” He exaggerated, though his words elicited a chuckle from the older king.

   “Of course. We are nothing but grateful the Crown Prince of Nightshade himself has graced us with his presence.” He toasts.

Chris nodded with a forced smile, bringing the alcohol to his lips. Sending the crown prince was both a gesture of goodwill and a calculated risk. Anything could happen to him on foreign soil. That’s why Sylvancrest had sent Prince Hyunjin, a fourth prince, as their envoy. But Chris was a warrior. His king was confident he could handle any threats that came his way. Looking at this king, he was reassured that there wasn’t much to worry about.

Dinner continued with the nobles attempting to win favor with the king through carefully chosen conversations. Hyunjin engaged them with details about Sylvancrest’s seaports, a topic that seemed to captivate the Elysium court. Or maybe they were enthralled by the beautiful man and his soothing voice.

Chris, however, found himself increasingly bored. He had thought he possessed enough patience for such formal events, expecting to engage in meaningful conversations rather than exchanging curt answers of a few words. Chris observed quietly, his attention drifting between the animated discussions at the table and the grand room. His gaze trailed once more to the center table, where Princess Sienna conversed quietly with the future princess-consort, her smile radiant. The warrior prince wondered why Sienna hadn’t spared him a glance, why she hadn’t recognized him. 

No, he knew why. 

Here, he wasn’t Chan.

There were many regrets he held from his younger days, and not properly revealing his identity to her was among them. Chris had been so concerned that his title would create tension, sparking her defenses due to the rivalry between their royal families. Looking back, he couldn’t help but see how foolish that fear had been. And when he decided he would finally tell her, he had been sent away. 

Princess Sienna didn’t know Crown Prince Christopher, and she wasn’t stealing glances at him, as he had been doing the entire evening.

As the dinner drew to a close and guests began to disperse, Chris felt a sense of disappointment settle over him. This was not the reunion he had hoped for. As if Han could read the thoughts in his mind, the guard nudged him, bringing him back to reality.

They returned to the Ruby Hall, finding solace in front of the fireplace that offered warmth against the chilly evening air.

   “Should we get Minho to find out more about the First Princess?” Han suggested, breaking the silence.

Chris shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Minho doesn’t involve himself in such matters, remember?” He reminded Han, who sighed and settled back in his chair.

The Midnight Order, while effective for covert operations, had its limitations. Minho, loyal as he was, adhered strictly to the tasks that had to do with Nightshade. He wouldn’t delve into personal investigations unless they posed a direct threat to the crown prince. Especially not about a foreign princess.

   “What did you think of their king?” Han asked, shifting the topic.

   “He’s exactly as I expected.” Chris replied with a nod, recalling the evening’s events.

   “What are your thoughts on the Elysium prince?” Chris inquired instead, observing Han closely.

   “Prince Ian? He didn’t say much during dinner.” Han recalled, furrowing his brow in thought.

Chris nodded thoughtfully. Despite his own boredom throughout the evening, his eyes had been keenly observant. He couldn’t help but notice the numerous glasses of wine Prince Ian had consumed, laughing easily at the banter of young men his age. Chris suddenly found himself contemplating the future of Elysium.

   “Our assumptions of the second princess seemed to have been true.” Han broke the silence once more, drawing Chris’ attention back to their conversation.

Chris had almost forgotten about the second princess. The one everyone else seemed to have met except him.

   “I guess she really is as sheltered as we believed.” Chris concluded, his tone thoughtful.

   “You know, there’s a lot of things that you have done wrong.” Han sighed, catching Chris off guard.

Chris raised a brow, silently urging him to continue.

   “You’ve hidden so much from your princess, didn’t even ask for her name, and now you’re sitting here with such a pitiful look I’m not sure what to do.” He confessed bluntly.

Chris’ brow furrowed at his friend’s words. Unsure if he should laugh or sigh. Indeed, he was right. His younger self had made many mistakes.

   “I also want to punch myself for that.” Chris groaned, admitting his regret.

But still Christopher was determined. Tomorrow’s banquet, he would ensure he properly introduced himself. He wanted Sienna to recognize him, not just as the Crown Prince of Nightshade, but as Chan, the friend she had promised not to forget. ──────────────────────── The royal banquet hall shimmered under the glow of chandeliers, its smooth floors adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to weave in gold. Guests in their finest attire, passed through the vigilant guards with awe. Chris and his entourage followed immediately after the Sylancrest Prince, sharing a knowing glance as they entered. Han stood by his side, visibly uncomfortable without his sword and stiff in his formal uniform, which was even more exquisite than the one he had worn the previous day.

   “Nervous?” Chris smirked at Han, who shot him a glare in response.

   “I think I’m suffocating.” Han muttered, maintaining a respectful distance a few steps behind his master.

Han’s sentiment was something he shared. Both had spent the past decade in the mountains, disregarding courtly rules and etiquette. However, while Han’s sole duty was to protect the Prince, Chris bore the additional responsibility of embodying the polite and approachable demeanor expected of a crown prince, representing his nation, especially since Nightshade’s reputation in this part of the land wasn’t favorable.

Forced smiles persisted as Chris exchanged pleasantries with curious attendees who approached him. Familiar faces from the previous evening’s dinner lingered, and the Prince of Sylvancrest stood beside him, similarly engaged. The two foreign princes found a sense of camaraderie under the watchful gazes of the Elysium guests.

The trumpets rang out, their resounding sound calling for attention. Instantly, the bustling hall fell into a hushed reverence as all eyes turned towards the grand entrance. Chris, amidst the sea of bowing heads and kneeling figures, stood with a nervousness that coursed through him like an electric current.

Through the parted sea of nobles, the Elysium royal family emerged with regal grace.

The royal banquet hall of Elysium shimmered under the brilliance of chandeliers, its smooth floors adorned with intricate patterns of gold. As the Elysium king and queen stood before their people, delivering a grand speech welcoming foreign princes and guests and aristocrats from every corner of the kingdom. The Nightshade Prince, listened with a raised brow. His instincts told him there was more to this reception than mere diplomacy, and he would definitely find out what.

His thoughts were soon diverted as he scanned the assembly, searching for his princess amongst the few ladies that followed behind the crown prince of Elysium. When the King of Elysium announced the arrival of Princess Sienna, Chris froze, his breath catching in his throat. He felt Han’s intense gaze on him but couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She looked even more beautiful than she had at the royal dinner, adorned with delicate pearls and jewels that caught the reflections of the shimmering chandeliers. Then he introduced the second princess. The king’s fatherly words resonated through the hall, emphasizing the upcoming celebrations for both princesses.

As both Princess Sienna and Princess Y/N bowed to the assembled guests, Han muttered into Chris’s ear. 

   “Princess Y/N, second Princess.” His eyes fixed on Y/N.

Still dazed, Chris turned to Han, his fingers brushing against the crystal bird pendant around his neck. He glanced over at the young lady who resembled the first princess, clearly Princess Y/N. He narrowed his brows, taking in the familiar sight of her eyes scanning the room after she rose from her bow.

Yet before the warrior prince could question further, the Sylvancrest prince interjects with his own comments.

The festivities continued after the King’s announcement. The royal rulers took their seats, and Chris found himself disinterested in the formalities. His focus remained on finding the princess whose smile had nearly blinded him. Despite the dance and social interactions, he lost sight of her in the grandeur of the hall.

Just as he turned to speak to Han, Chris froze once more. There she was. Princess Sienna, standing tall and regal, commanding attention with her presence. She moved gracefully among the guests, her younger sister, Princess Y/N, trailing behind as they greeted them with a brief exchange of words.

And finally, she was here in front of him.

Approaching with warmth and grace, Princess Sienna introduced herself, her voice like honey. Chris felt a stirring of recognition deep within him. Could this really be her? His childhood friend, the one he had longed to reunite with for years? The one he loves.

   “Greetings, Your Highness. I am Sienna, First Princess of Elysium.” She formally introduced herself with a serene smile.

   “And I am Princess Y/N, the second princess.” Y/N followed, her gaze briefly lingering on the man who she had seen in the Queen’s court just a day prior. He hadn’t recognized her it seemed.

   “Good evening, Princesses. I am Christopher Chan Bahng, Crown Prince of Nightshade.” Chris returned his introduction with a determination, bowing politely, a gentle smile on his lips, the crystal bird pendant gleaming against his chest.

Y/N stilled at the mention of the name that was ingrained in her mind, her hands freezing at her sides as she stood from her greeting.

Sienna’s gaze fell upon the out-of-place pendant, and for a moment, surprise flickered across her features. 

   “That—it looks familiar.” She murmured, a smile forming, giving Y/N a quick glance before returning to look at the Warrior Prince.

Chris’ heart swelled with joy and relief from her words. Here she was, his childhood princess, standing before him with familiarity and warmth. It felt like everything was falling into place. His lips spread into a smile, wishing she would call him “Chan.”

But Sienna was not his princess. 

The realization struck the second princess, like a blow. Y/N had always been one to connect things quickly. She stood frozen, her wide eyes fixed on the necklace and the man who wore it proudly.

Prince Christopher Chan Bahng.

The Crown Prince of Nightshade, who gazed at Sienna with a warm look.

Her Chan.

And suddenly he looked even more familiar.

Her heart pounded with a mixture of emotions, that feeling from when she encountered Han the morning of their arrival, returning with even more intensity. Except this time it was confirmed almost right away.

But Chan hadn’t even spared her a glance. 

The pain in her chest was overwhelming. A dry feeling in her throat. The loud thrumming in her ears.

The boy she had imagined would recognize her in a heartbeat, the one she had longed to reunite with, hadn’t. A mix of disappointment and hurt swirled within her. She had created scenarios in her mind, dreams of a reunion like those from her favorite love stories, intense, intimate, filled with recognition and warmth. But reality was harsh and unforgiving.

He hadn’t recognized her at all.

Yet, she dared not approach him, dared not correct him. 

A thought suddenly weighing heavily on her.

How could she? 

She? 

A lower princess, the king’s mistress’ daughter. One he didn’t even look at, while he was the Crown Prince of his nation.

He was a goddamn Crown Prince.

Their differing ranks were painfully evident all of a sudden.

Her eyes trail down to linger on the delicate necklace adorning his neck. The one that had belonged to Sienna. It had aged, not so polished as she recalled from her memories. But still, the crystal bird glimmered under the chandelier’s light.

It mocked her with its beauty and radiance.

The second princess who grew up in the shadows of her royal older sister couldn’t do anything but bite back her tongue. The crystal bird that led her childhood friend to it’s owner, reminded her of her shameful act of stealing it and the incidents that followed.

The coming heartache could have been avoided with just one confession from her, but she stood in silence, the weight of everything that coursed through her mind hung heavily over her. Yet even her self-loathing seemed to be overshadowed by Sienna’s radiance.

Chan’s eyes did not look her way.

─────────────────────── to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump, @ellelabelle

Crystal Bird - Chapter 2

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, somewhat proofread A/N: Still childhood chapter (will be over soon I promise.) Based on a dream. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2 ─────────────────── This was something entirely new for Y/N.

For the first time, The second princess wasn’t slipping away out of curiosity about a spider spinning its web or to sample a trendy new snack she heard about at some tea party. This time, she had someone to meet, a scheduled time to exchange words with another person. She was beyond elated, carefully navigating the corridors of her residence, hoping her mother was engrossed in entertaining her circle of friends or, even better, ventured out to purchase new gowns.

They arrived earlier than agreed upon, both flustered at the sight of each other, but any awkwardness quickly dissolved as they began to converse. True to his word, Chan proudly presented his favorite dessert, something exotic and unfamiliar to Y/N, even though she was accustomed to the luxuries of palace life.

The dessert, native to Nightshade, was a revelation to her palate, and she ate every bite with genuine delight. As Chan watched her savor the sweet treat, he suddenly wondered if the children of Elysium were also warned to keep away from anything associated with Nightshade. Like he had been taught to be wary of Elysium.

    “What do you think of the Bahng Clan, Princess?” Chan asked with both anxiousness and curiosity.

Y/N looks up in wonder, wiping her fingers with her handkerchief.

    “You mean the beastly people?” She asks.

The term has Chan’s heart drop, momentarily lowering his gaze, wondering how she would react if he revealed his true identity.

    “My teacher said that they love violence and bloodshed. But I’ve read in a book that the realm is sandwiched between forest and the snowy mountains? Wouldn't they be practicing intense self defense tactics?” Y/N continued, surprising Chan with her mature perspective.

The young princess, always curious but lacking someone to share her thoughts with, felt a warmth spread through her as Chan listened so intently. He stared at her in amazement, realizing that despite her young age, and her title as princess, Y/N possessed a wisdom and compassion unlike other kids her age.

    “I’m sure they have their own way of life. It’s just different from ours.” She concluded with a gentle smile.

Y/N had no idea how much relief her words brought to Chan, the Nightshade Prince. He was silently grateful that it was she who had rescued him from the river.

And so, one meeting turned into another, and another, until they began to lose count of how many times they had met. The two young royals giggled and devoured each other’s favorite snacks with gusto, forgetting all about the constraints of etiquette in their budding friendship. Each rendezvous brought them closer, sharing secrets, dreams, and aspirations. Like true friends.

While Han kicked rocks a short distance away, he couldn't help but marvel at the unusual sight before him. It was rare to see his Prince enjoying the company of another child, especially one from outside their usual social circle. Normally, Chris would scowl at the children of his father’s court and council. Children who dared to approach him with forced smiles and honey-dripping words. While the young girls of their nation were too intimidated to even make eye contact with him. Han couldn’t understand why—after all, Chris wasn’t even that scary looking.

The aspiring personal guard studied the rocky passageway they had climbed countless times now. It was a narrow path, hidden among overgrown bushes and vines, creating a natural canopy that almost concealed its existence entirely, like a cave almost. One could easily miss it if they were simply passing by. Yet here they were, sneaking past this narrow passage almost daily. Han couldn’t deny that everything about this risky routine scared him senseless. But despite his fears, he always succumbed to the Prince’s pleading gaze, dutifully preparing provisions like bread and snacks for their "walks of fresh air."

Was this what they called loyalty? As they parted ways that evening, arranging to meet again, Chris felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t known before. Whistling a happy tune, he and Han made their way back up the rocky path, the younger boy taking the now-empty sack from him.

    “The princess is much more down-to-earth than I thought.”  Han came to a conclusion after observing, they squeezed past narrow boulders and returned to their side of the forest.

    “She’s also funny.” Chris laughed, recalling the amusing stories Y/N had shared.

Han raised a brow at his master. “When do you plan on returning the necklace?”

Chris stopped in his tracks, groaning. He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of their meeting today. They hadn’t seen each other since the day after he had presented her with the promised cake for her birthday—four days ago.

    “I’m going to replace the chain. The silver is all mangled from being in your filthy pocket.” Chris shook his head.

    “You’re the one who had it clutched in your fist for dear life!” Han retorted with a scoff, to which Chris rolled his eyes.

    “I’ll return it as soon as I get it to look brand new. He hummed, walking ahead with a bounce in his step. 

    “Now let’s hurry back before dinner.” Meanwhile, in the silence of the dining room of the West Palace in Elysium, the cold tone of Lady Katherine’s voice pierced the tense air.

    “You’ve been missing too many lessons. Let's not make it a habit.” She remarked as she meticulously cut the meat on her plate.

Y/N’s eyes froze at her dinner, her mind racing with worry. Had her mother caught her sneaking under the back wall?

    “Princess Sienna will be traveling to the Melgarde Estate this Autumn to begin prepping for her role as First Princess. I have managed to convince your father to allow you to accompany her this time.”

Y/N’s eyes shot towards her mother, her fists balling up her dress.

    “Must I go mother?” She hesitantly asked, glancing up at Katherine, who paused her knife and fork against the steak to stop working.

    “Such ridiculous questions don’t befit you, the Second Princess of this nation." Her mother replied sharply, throwing a stern glance her way.

    “I have worked very hard to get your father to look at us favorably. Do not ruin it.” The mother continued working her cutlery against her dinner.

    “Besides, you’ve known that one day or another you’d be sent to Melgarde. You too must learn of your royal duties. You are a princess after all...” 

Silence hung heavily between them once again, but Y/N’s appetite had vanished. Just a few weeks ago, she hadn’t cared where she stayed or which estate she roamed, but now, with a friend who didn’t see her as just the Second Princess of Elysium, leaving seemed unbearable. The thought of being separated from Chan, the one who had seen her for who she truly was, weighed heavily on her heart. He had celebrated her birthday with a cake and wishes meant only for her, a gesture that touched her deeply. Her eyes welled tears tears.

Autumn wasn’t even that far off. ─────────────────────── The following meeting of the secret friends had been plenty of joy like the many before. They lounged comfortably, exchanging funny anecdotes and catching up on the gossip they had been eagerly saving up during their brief separation (of just two days). Yet amidst the laughter and stories, Chan couldn’t help but notice a heaviness in Y/N’s demeanor. Her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, and it was clear to the observant prince that something was amiss.

    “Are the stories not amusing today, or perhaps the pastries don't suit your taste?” Chan inquired gently, watching as Y/N quickly sat up to deny both concerns.

    “Neither! The pastries are delightful, and the tale of your cousin Felix putting his father in line was genuinely amusing, Chan!” She exclaimed, her attempt to brush off her subdued mood evident.

Chris smiles at the call of the name. Chan. It was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time. A name his mother had given him, a remnant of a time when life felt simpler and less burdened by secrecy and expectation. When the princess used that name, it made him feel oddly liberated—like the mischievous child he once was, running through the hall of the castle, free from the weight of royal responsibilities.

    “There just seems to be something bothering you." Chan remarked, leaning in attentively. He wanted nothing more than to lend an ear and offer comfort.

For a moment, Y/N was silent, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip as she studied Chan with eyes filled with care.

    “My mother is sending me to Melgarde by the end of this summer. I don’t want to go so far away...especially now that I have…you.” She confessed quietly, her voice tinged with melancholy as she dropped her gaze.

Chan blinks a few times, unsure of what or where Melgarde was. Watching her wrestle with her emotions, her fingers fidgeting with the grass, he felt a pang of guilt for hiding his true identity from her—especially since she considered him a close friend.

    “Why do you think your mother is sending you to Melgarde?” He asks, his eyes wandered to look at the now pink and orange sky.

    “I’m to learn about my royal duties. But she refuses to listen to what I feel.” Y/N groaned softly.

Chan had a familiarity with those feelings she was holding back. Duties, responsibilities. Things a Crown Prince must do.

    “Maybe your mother is just looking out for you. A princess like yourself must have many responsibilities in the near future. It's only right for her to do so.” Chan replied, his words betraying his own maturity beyond his years. 

She was the Princess’ mother. Of course she cared for her. Just like his own mother had, always striving for what was best. But Chan didn’t know Lady Katherine, yet he did his best to uplift Y/N’s spirits.

    “Your going away to Melgarde or wherever will not change the fact that we are friends. Will it?" He asked with a soft smile.

Inside, Chan felt a pang of sadness at the idea of Y/N leaving. His efforts to console her masked his own unease about their impending separation.

    “No. We will always be friends.” She grumbled, her fingers idly playing with her dress. “But I’m worried you’re going to forget me."

Chan chuckled softly at such a notion, partly because of Y/N's playful pout, which he couldn't resist teasing by poking her cheek with his finger. She blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden playfulness. He quickly withdrew his hand, sheepishly looking down.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at the sight of Chan's ears turning red. He reminded her of a puppy. But despite the light moment, Chan's conscience weighed heavily on him, evident in the serious expression that replaced his smile.

    “I must confess something.” Chan's expression was tinged with worry.

Y/N tilted her head, sensing a shift in the atmosphere that left her uneasy.

    “What do you think about the Kingdom of Nightshade? Are you not afraid of its people?” His voice was low, a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

Y/N was taken aback by his sudden questions. Chan seemed unusually interested in the Bahng Clan and the Kingdom of Nightshade—this being the second time he had brought them up.

    “I’ve never met anyone from there. Have you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

Chan nodded slowly, meeting her gaze with a hint of hesitation.

    “How? We’re not allowed to cross over. Did you find a way to—” Y/N's words stopped abruptly as realization dawned on her.

Chan could almost see the pieces clicking into place in her mind. He watched as her expression shifted, brows furrowing in concentration.

    “Are you from Nightshade?” Her voice is tinged with surprise.

Chan wanted to disappear at that moment, regretting having brought up the topic at all. He could have continued the charade. The shock in her eyes was something he hadn’t anticipated.

    “I am.” He whispered finally.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Chan’s heart raced in his chest, uncertain of what her reaction would be. Would she run away, tell him to stay away? To go back and never return?

    “Are you afraid of me?” He asked tentatively, his vulnerability laid bare before her.

Y/N rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought.

    “So that’s why that dessert was so unfamiliar.” She mumbled to herself, trying to recall if there were any other dropped hints that she had missed.

    “Hmmm,”  she continued, her mind racing. “And that cape! Is it also something worn only in Nightshade?! Thank goodness I haven’t worn it out yet” She sighed, starting to ramble.

Chan blinked, slightly taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. He hadn’t realized just how curious the Second Princess could be.

    “So…I don’t scare you?” He ventured cautiously.

Furrowing her brows, Y/N looked at him as if he were being ridiculous.

    “You were moments away from being swept away by the river, and trembling like a leaf the first time we met, Chan. It was far from scary.”

A small snicker came from the bushes where Han was hiding. His voice, though loud in the otherwise quiet exchange, broke the tension.

    “See, even Han agrees.” Y/N teased lightly.

Chan shot a glare towards Han’s designated hiding bush, the younger boy immediately falling silent and attempting to sneak further away.

    “I once thought you were just some very sickly noble child not allowed to attend gatherings, only sneaking out with his servant boy for solace. But it makes sense that you’re from a whole different kingdom. Now that I think about it, some of the stories you’ve told…” Y/N trailed off, lost in thought.

    “You’re taking this very well. I was afraid for no reason.” Chan interjected, cutting off her train of thought before she could delve deeper.

He couldn't begin to express how relieved he felt.

Y/N laughed, sitting up and playfully tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.

    “Aren’t we friends?” She asked with a warm smile.

Her words made Chan smile, his ears flushing red once more. Taking a deep breath, he looked out over the expanse of the Grand Forest, the sun beginning its descent.

    “The closest of friends." He whispered watching her sweet smile.

The older boy takes in a deep breath of the spring breeze, eyes taking in the beautiful scenery of this Grand Forest.

    “Watch, there will come a day when we can meet freely. No sneaking over borders, or jumping in rivers.” His smile was hopeful, but Y/N seemed hesitant.

    “I wish it came before summer ended…” Y/N said sadly, but then shook it off, determination replacing the sorrow on her lips.

    “Let’s meet again after my return from Melgarde. It may take some time, and I’m not sure how much will change. But I promise I will not forget.”

A bittersweet feeling settled in Chan’s heart as he gently cupped her hands with his own, giving them a squeeze.

    “I won’t be able to send you letters, but let’s spend every day until you leave, together. I too promise to think of you every day until our reunion, my one and only lady friend.” He grinned, his dimples showing.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they prepared to say their farewells. Y/N then handed him a small wrapped stack of cookies

    “Let’s meet again in three days. My mother has been keeping a close eye on me lately, so I’ll have to hold back on slipping out.” She said, pushing the cookies into his arms.

    “And this is for Han. I feel sorry that he’s been playing with sticks and stones back there all this time.”

Chan begrudgingly accepted the cookies, promising to pass them along to his friend. Though their playdate had run longer than usual, the prince felt elated. The burden of secrecy was no longer weighing him down now that the truth was out there.

The sun dipped lower, casting elongated shadows across the palace grounds as Han and Chris dashed through the fading light. Han's laughter echoed in the quietening air, mingling with the rustling of leaves as they finally made their way back.

Han’s voice, light and carefree, carried the teasing remark about Chris not revealing his princely status to the princess. It was meant in jest, but Chris's reaction was anything but amused.

    “I would have but what if that’s the reason she pushes me away?” Chris's voice held a hint of uncertainty, his steps faltering as he glanced back at Han.

Han chuckled, his amusement not subsiding. “I doubt it would be, Prince Shivering Leaf.”

Chris sighed, the corners of his lips twitching as he realized Han was right—his apprehensions were likely just his overthinking. Yet before the conversation could settle, his mind tracks back to the “shivering leaf” comment, and he looks at an nonchalant Han now walking ahead. He smiled and muttered a playful command.

    “You better start running.”

The command caught Han off guard, and with a surprised yelp, he hastily stuffed the remaining cookies into his vest pocket and bolted. Chris pursued him with determination, their laughter carrying through the grounds, unaware of how quickly dusk was settling around them.

Han glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. But in that split-second distraction, he collided headlong into what felt like a pole, causing him to crumple to the ground with a sharp “oof”. Chris, caught off guard by Han's sudden fall, skidded to a halt a few steps behind, concerned.

Once he realized that it was not a pole, the younger boy scrambled to his feet, head bowed in an instinctual bow.

    “T-teacher.” He greeted tentatively, his lips tightening in an attempt to hide his shock.

Captain Elliot approached, eyes glanced towards the unexpected direction the boys emerged from before his stern gaze assessed the situation in front. 

    “I’ve been searching for the two of you.” He stated, his voice holding a note of reproach.

Chris hurriedly stepped forward, attempting to explain their escapades. 

    “We-we’re just here and there, practicing and rough-housing, Uncl-teacher.” He stammered, trying to downplay their mischief.

Sir Elliot observed them both, his gaze flickering between Chris and Han. Though aware that they had been up to something, he found solace in the fact that seemed to be getting along, and neither appeared injured or worse for wear. 

His tone softened slightly as he remarked, “As long as you’re not doing anything wrong.”

The relief was palpable as both boys straightened, the tension easing from their shoulders. Perhaps Sir Elliot had his suspicions, but for now, they were spared further scrutiny. With a paternal caution, he added, 

    “Don’t wander off too far. It’s beginning to get darker much quicker these days.”

With a nod of dismissal, Sir Elliot turned to continue on his way, leaving the boys to exhale in unison in relief. Chris reached out, gently tugging at Han's arm to rouse him from his momentarily frozen stance.

As they resumed their path towards the palace, the captain paused, his eyes catching sight of something out of place on the ground—a stray…cookie? Picking it up, he narrowed his gaze, then turned to glance back at the retreating figures of the two boys, now engaged in animated conversation as they walked away. The burly king tapped at the wood of his desk, the page of the letter he had received splayed over countless other stacks of paper. His brow furrowed as he absorbed the implications of its contents, his thoughts racing through the strategic decisions ahead.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, followed by the creak of the aged hinges as Elliot entered the room. The captain’s presence brought a sense of grounded reassurance amidst the king’s tumultuous thoughts.

    “You called for me, brother?” Sir Elliot’s gaze was steady, assessing the king’s grim expression as he approached the desk.

Without a word, the king picked up the creased letter and handed it to his younger brother. As Elliot’s eyes scanned the hastily written words, a deep sigh escaped the king’s lips, betraying the weight of his concerns.

A letter from the North.

    “The next warband for the Midnight Order has commenced their training and are ready to swear allegiance to their Master.” The king explained wearily, his voice laced with unease.

Sir Elliot absorbed the information with a furrowed brow, understanding the gravity of Commander Seo’s expectations through his letter. The Seo family’s longstanding stewardship of the kingdom’s military affairs meant that any delay in Prince Christopher’s training was not merely a matter of protocol but a strategic imperative for the nation’s defense. 

The Midnight Order of Nightshade was legendary—an elite, secretive cadre of warriors renowned for their unswerving loyalty and unmatched fighting skills. Trained rigorously under the harshest conditions, they swore allegiance solely to the kings of Nightshade. Operating covertly, as the king’s shadow, they remained unseen and silent, protectors in the dark. Their missions and actions were shrouded in secrecy, acting as the king’s eyes where his presence couldn’t extend. The moment had arrived for Chris to meet his order—his people, the next generation of warriors destined to protect the future king.

    “We have delayed sending Prince Christopher to the North for far too long.” Elliot’s voice broke the silence between the two men, resonating with the weight of responsibility. 

    “Commander Seo has shown patience due to the Prince's mourning period, but we cannot afford further delays. You know how crucial this matter is to him.”

The captain’s words were nothing but honest. He could tell that his brother, the wise and dignified king, who would never falter when it came to the best of his nation, was a weak father. Much like himself. Except Felix is not the Crown Prince. He will not take the throne and rule over as a successful king. Christopher had great responsibilities, and he needed to fulfill them. Sir Elliot understood the delicate balance between honoring the late Queen’s wishes and preparing the Prince for his future role. And The King’s decision carried implications that extended beyond familial concerns to the very stability of the kingdom.

    “The late Queen’s wishes allowed the Prince considerable freedom, against all advice.” Sir Elliot remarked gently, meeting his brother's gaze with understanding. 

    “But a year and some time of mourning has passed, and Prince Christopher must move forward. The longer we delay, the more vulnerable he becomes as Crown Prince.”

The king fell silent, his eyes fixed on the letter in Sir Elliot’s hands. He was painfully aware of what the obvious decision should be, but thinking about his only son, tugged at his heart

    “Let us delay a little further.” The King finally conceded with a sigh.         “I fear pressing him now may embitter him.”

    “Knowing the Prince, he will not go quietly.” Sir Elliot agreed with a defeated laugh. 

    “But, he has shown unexpected cooperation as of late. My only concern is his frequent ventures outside of the palace gates.” Elliot recalled the encounter earlier outside.

    “Indeed, quite worrisome.” King Bahng mused, his thoughts drifting to the unpredictable nature of his son’s recent behavior.

    “And what of his training partner?” King Bahng inquired.

    “The Prince wishes to assign him as his personal guard.” Elliot explained, a faint smile touching his lips.

The king chuckled softly at the revelation.

    “A very princely gesture indeed. But he has a long journey ahead to truly find and understand his people.”

The mention of the training partner stirred memories within the king.

    “When I saw him that day, carrying the Prince back, soaked through and on the verge of tears, I knew then that he would pledge his loyalty to the Crown Prince.” the king reminisced, a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Sir Elliot nodded knowingly, both men contemplated the future that lay ahead for the Crown Prince and the challenges that awaited him on his path to kingship. Yet even amidst the weighty discussions of state, the recent antics of the two young boys had not escaped the King’s notice. ─────────────────────── The changing seasons brought with them a shift in the air, heralding the arrival of cooler winds from the north that swept through the shared region of the two realms. With these winds came more frequent rain showers, disrupting the almost daily reunions of the two royal friends.

    “Do you think the rain will stop tomorrow?” Chris queried, his hand extended to feel the drops falling outside the library window.

He was supposed to be concentrating on memorizing a book assigned to him, but the young prince was brimming with anticipation. He had finally repaired the necklace’s chain, and the crystal bird now hung more polished than ever. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on the princess’ face when he gave it to her.

Han sighed, observing his prince repeatedly pulling the small box out of his pocket, as if it had transformed in the ten minutes he hadn’t been staring at it.

    “I’m not sure about the rain, but you promised to meet her no matter the weather.” Han reminded him.

Chris emitted a thoughtful “hmm”, his gaze still fixed on the jewelry. The playmate slipped into the seat beside him, also inspecting the delicate piece.

    “It really is quite beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Han remarked.

    “Who does it belong to?” A third voice suddenly interjected with wonder.

    “The Princess, you already know—” Chris started to explain before catching himself, halting mid-sentence as he and Han turned to see Felix leaning in to get a closer look at the necklace.

The boys share a look, surprised by Felix’s unexpected presence. Felix glanced between the two older boys curiously.

    “Who’s the Princess?”

    “F-Felix. What are you doing here?” Chris stammered, while Han did what he does best in these situations.

He froze.

    “It’s raining, so I came to hideout here from lessons.” Felix replied matter-of-factly, then pointed at the crystal bird. 

    “Is the Princess the person who you’ve been sneaking out to see?”

Han’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he anxiously awaited Chris’s response. But the Crown Prince’s mind goes blank, unable to come up with an excuse.

    “Please don’t tell anyone…” Chris pleaded instead, quickly closing the box containing the necklace.

The smaller prince shrugged nonchalantly, taking a seat on one of the benches behind them. 

    “It’s been quite some time since I figured it out. You’re not very good at keeping secrets.” He remarked, displaying a sharpness that his father had always taken pride in.

    “Is she really a princess, or do you just call her that?” Felix inquired, genuinely curious.

The young boy had never met a princess before, their kingdom seemed to lack them. 

Chris smiled fondly, recalling his dear friend. “She is.”

Felix's eyes lit up with excitement at the confirmation.

    “Really! What's her name?" He asked eagerly, hungering for tales of foreign royalty.

Chris blinked, a realization dawning on him—he didn’t know her name.

    “You never asked!?” Han exclaimed, astonished at his friend’s oversight.

Felix sat there, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as he observed the exchange between a mortified Chris and a shocked Han. 

The young prince had always been enthusiastic about meeting his “Princess,” but now it dawned on him that he had never actually asked her name. He felt a pang of guilt and self-reproach—how!? How could he have overlooked something so basic? The princess had asked for his name, so why hadn't he reciprocated?

Han, who had lost count of how many exasperated sighs he had let out that morning because of Chris, sighed once more.

    “When you meet her again, please ask her name.” Han implored, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. 

He knew how important she was to Chris and his mistake was probably going to weigh on his mind.

Chris nodded earnestly, feeling frustrated by his foolishness.

    “I will. I promise.” He replied earnestly.

And as the three boys left the library, the rain continued to patter softly against the now closed windows, a reminder of the barriers they would have to overcome to see each other again. But Chris was determined, more than ever, to learn his princess’ name and to show her the respect and friendship she deserved before she departed to Melgarde.

But as fate would have it, not everything would go according to his plan.

Chris grunted at the sight of the dark clouds gathering overhead, the sound of raindrops drumming steadily against the windowpane. He had awoken that morning with a sense of excitement, eager for his secret meeting with the princess. However, after enduring his lessons and searching the training grounds in vain for Han, who seemed to have disappeared, Chris's mood began to sour. It had been hours since he last saw his loyal friend. He had never realized just how much he relied on Han until now. Han orchestrated their excuses, ensuring their timely exits from the castle grounds, and always kept an eye out even in the forest. Without Han, Chris felt vulnerable and exposed, a sensation he hadn't experienced in their many adventures together. Han was more than just a friend at this point. He was a trusted confidant, and a guardian of their shared secrets.

Upon questioning another young trainer, Chris learned that Han was running an errand for Captain Elliot. The news added to Chris's frustration, on top of the relentless rain that threatened to ruin his plans.

Despite his best efforts to remain optimistic, Chris couldn't shake the growing anxiety as the time for his meeting with his princess approached. With a heavy sigh, Chris retrieved the box containing the polished crystal bird necklace from his bedside table. His loyal playmate had not returned from his task, and Chris was sure the princess was already waiting for him. She had always been one to arrive early.

Today, Chris decided, would be the day he ventured out alone.

A mistake on the young prince’s part.

As he approached the secret passage through the forest, his footsteps squelching on the rain-soaked ground, his heart sank at the sight before him. The entrance to the passage was completely obstructed, large boulders strategically placed to seal it shut. There was no way for him to squeeze through or move the rocks at all. Panic gripped his chest as he realized the gravity of the situation.

    “Prince Christopher.” King Bahng's voice rang out, firm and disapproving even in the downpour.

Chris froze, dread knotting in his stomach as he turned to face his father, standing with Captain Elliot and his Solar guards, the castle's elite protectors. 

Wet and shivering, Chris knew he was finally exposed, unmistakably caught. The steady drip of rain against the wooden floor of the king's study filled the chamber with a somber rhythm, punctuating the tense silence between father and son. Chris stood before his father, head bowed in shame, fully aware of the gravity of his actions. His duties as Crown Prince had been clear, yet he had failed in his responsibility to disclose the discovery of a hidden passage that posed a potential threat to Nightshade's security.

His father's loyalty to honoring peace agreements was unwavering, but could he say the same about the fickle Elysium King? Should they have discovered the crack between the two realms first…

    “You have broken my trust.” King Bahng's voice cut through the silence, cold and unforgiving, causing Chris, wet and shivering, to flinch.

Chris struggled to find words, his mouth dry with regret. He usually excelled at making excuses, but his mind raced with regret and the realization of the consequences of his actions. He had risked the stability of their kingdom.

    “Not only have you disregarded your duties as Crown Prince, but you have endangered Nightshade with your reckless adventures beyond our borders.” The king continued, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes in disappointment. 

    “There will be consequences. Firstly, your companion, your accomplice in this reckless act, will be sent away”

Chris' head snapped up at his father's words, panic and sorrow flooding his expression. He thought of Han, his friend, his loyal training partner, who had always dreamed of becoming a warrior and proving himself. And now, because of Chris, Han’s dreams were going to shatter             “Please, Father...” Chris pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. 

    “I will accept any punishment you deem fit. But Han... He was only following my lead. Punish me, but spare him.” He implored, falling to his knees, overwhelmed by guilt and desperation

King Bahng turned away, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window where the setting sun cast a melancholy glow. The sight of his son on his knees was a painful one, both as a father and as a king. But after a moment of silence, King Bahng turns slowly, seeing the sight he did not enjoy. Yet the urgency in the boy’s blood-red eyes spoke volumes. He was almost impressed at what lengths the Prince was willing to go for his people.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

    “You will be sent to the White Mountains of the North, kept under the strict supervision of Commander Seo.” He declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

    “There will be no special treatment because you are a prince. You will undergo rigorous training and learn the responsibilities that come with your position. It is time you understand the gravity of your role.”

His father's gaze softened slightly. 

    “Your companion Han, will accompany you. You have started this together, so you will receive your punishment together.” King Bahng added, acknowledging his son's plea.

King Bahng turned to the rain-streaked window once again. The cold silence returned.

    “You will leave tomorrow.” He stated firmly, his eyes fixed on the horizon .

    “Yes your Majesty.” Chris whispered, bowing his head. ─────────────────────── As summer drew to an end, the looming departure of the first princess to Melgarde Estate became inevitable, the departure date set, weighing heavily on Y/N's heart. The news had imposed a sudden deadline on her time with Chan, leaving her in tears several times as she grappled with the uncertainty of their future. She wondered if Chan would share the same sadness, if he would shed tears like she did. His comforting presence, his reassuring hand squeezes, had always been a source of solace for her. They hadn't seen each other in days, and with each passing day, her yearning for her friend intensified.

Standing at their usual meeting spot amidst the Grand Forest, Y/N tried to hold onto hope despite the relentless downpour and the roar of the river nearby. Perhaps the rain had delayed Chan? They had made a promise, and he was determined to keep it.

But as the first hour slipped by without any sign of Chan, worry crept in. Should she go look for him? Fear gripped her, imagining the dangers of venturing out alone in the eerie forest towards a direction she was not familiar with.

Another hour passed, the forest now slowly cloaking in darkness as the sky dimmed. Panic set in as realization dawned—Chan was not coming. Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes once more, mixing with the raindrops on her cheeks. The weight of their separation and the uncertainty of when, or if, they would see each other again bore down on her, casting a shadow over their unfulfilled promise.

Alone in the fading light of day, Y/N's heart ached with longing for Chan, wishing desperately for his comforting presence amid the looming departure that threatened to tear them apart. But Chan had not come as he promised.

And just like that summer came to an end. The Grand Forest underwent a noticeable transformation. Once a vibrant destination for picnics and joyful gatherings, its charm had faded following the tragic incident involving the first princess. The forest, once alive with the laughter and footsteps of visitors, now settled into a solemn quietude.

After Y/N and Chan's last secret meeting, their shared laughter and excitement seemed to disappear along with the warm breeze of the summer. The forest paths they once frequented became untouched and overgrown, as if nature itself respected the absence of their presence.

The end of that summer marked more than just a change in weather, it symbolized a shift in the forest's ambiance. A transition from bustling activity to a serene stillness tinged with melancholy.

─────────────────────── to be continued. ── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump,

Crystal Bird - Chapter 1

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, somewhat proofread A/N: First few chapters focus on childhood so a little slow paced (I like to ramble). Based on a dream. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue /

CHAPTER 1 ───────────────────

The Kingdom rejoiced with the birth of the First Princess. For three days, the realm erupted in celebrations—a riot of colors, music, and festivities that swept through every corner. Processions honoring the arrival of a long-awaited princess. Princess Sienna, the first daughter to the King and Queen of Elysium. Sister to the nation’s crown prince. 

How joyous.

Yet, the next day marked a stark contrast. Amongst the revelry, In a quiet chamber, the King's second daughter, Princess Y/N, entered the world almost unnoticed. Born of the King's mistress, her arrival lacked fanfare or ceremony. While the main palace buzzed with activity and gifts for Princess Sienna, little attention was spared for the second princess. 

Princess Y/N's fate seemed sealed—to live in the shadows of the first princess. 

The Elysium Kingdom, known for its intricate politics and noble traditions, applauded scholarly pursuits and thrived in trade. Despite its guarded stance towards neighboring realms, Elysium stands as a land of prestige and refinement. However, its greatest rivalry lie right next to them, posing as the Kingdom's greatest threat.

The Kingdom of Nightshade, ruled by the Bahng Clan.

Like its name, it was mysterious and whispers of its dark origins spread far and wide. They say that The Nightshade Kingdom had ancient ties with wolves. Their nature seems to elude as such, with tactics that mimic the beasts of the night, yet effectively defending against threats from all directions. Shroud in it's own darkness, and nestled within expansive mountains and lush landscapes, it was known for its formidable defenses and healing arts.

The Bahng Clan had led the empire for five hundred years. Once the most powerful nation, before some hundreds of years ago, a rebel had raised an army and conquered the land past The Grand Forest. 

That rebel was the first Elysium King.

So it was of no surprise that there was animosity between these two kingdoms with drastic differences. Despite past attempts at wars ending in failure, dark times for both realms, agreements for peace were made, spanning generations. Yet the underlying tensions never disappeared. These were fueled by historical grievances and their stark cultural differences.

Elysium prized intellect and social standing, viewing Nightshade's warrior culture and deep connection to nature as…primitive. In Nightshade, the highest honor one could achieve was to be recognized as a Nightshade Warrior—a protector and leader. Yet, Elysium's elite disdainfully labeled them "uncivilized" due to their rugged demeanor. The divide seemed insurmountable, leaving little common ground between the two nations. 

The history of these tensions was deeply ingrained in the minds of the royal and noble children of the Elysium Kingdom. Princess Y/N, however, grew up pondering this divide and their tensions. She couldn't help but question: If both realms followed similar paths and valued similar ideals, wouldn’t they have been a single empire then?

The second princess had always been a curious one, full of questions. Unlike her sister, who basked in attention and privilege, Y/N spent her time in the sanctuary of books. Picking up random pieces of knowledge. She wandered the palace grounds unnoticed, finding solace in quieter corners where she could contemplate the world beyond the palace walls. As a young child, she loved sneaking away into the kitchens and cellars to steal desserts and cheese. Getting bolder and bolder before finding herself under palace walls.

Y/N was great at slipping away unnoticed.

Not that her presence seemed to make a difference anyway. The young girls at the tea parties paid little attention to her. And when they did, it was to learn more about her sister. As she matured, Y/N gradually became aware of the stark disparity in treatment between herself and Princess Sienna. While Sienna effortlessly commanded attention and affection, Y/N observed from the sidelines, overshadowed by her sister's radiant presence. Sienna received everything she desired, and why shouldn’t she? She was second only to the Queen in importance, destined to lead women in society and set trends. Despite being pampered from birth, Sienna remained remarkably humble. She complimented her servants, greeted everyone with a cheeky smile and a booming voice, and adored her slightly younger sister.

Despite the stark contrast in their upbringing, Y/N harbored no resentment towards Sienna, finding solace in their occasional playful interactions. Sienna was oblivious to the disparities between them, while Y/N silently wrestled with envy, internalizing her feelings toward her sweet sister.

The Grand Forest stretched long and wide between the two kingdoms, its lush expanse often a buffer for the political tensions that defined Elysium and Nightshade. Somewhere in the middle, marked the border between the two rival nations. Within this strip of green, where trees stood tall and dense, and a river murmured its steady song, nobles from Elysium occasionally ventured for secluded picnics and gatherings. 

On one such occasion, Princess Y/N observed her sister's birthday festivities unfold. The weather had been perfect for a tea party, and although it was not officially Sienna’s birthday, the other girls of noble families wanted to host a small gathering by the river in early celebration. Though they claimed it was to celebrate both princesses. Sienna, surrounded by friends and admirers, received gifts that sparkled with enchantment of jewels and trinkets, while Y/N received modest offerings. 

Y/N did not complain, she was used to it, aware that she would probably get the things Sienna was not particularly fond of. Yet, as Sienna opened the small box and unveiled a delicate necklace—a crystal bird on a silver chain, Y/N's fascination stirred. The crystal’s iridescence captivated her, it's simplicity evoked charm. Her eyes lighting up in curiosity. Maybe it was the bright blue of the crystal. Or the fact that it was in the shape of a bird, almost three-dimensional. It was so small yet it made all the other girls “ooh” and “ahh” as it glimmered. It was something Y/N had never seen, and she wanted to feel the smooth silver of the chain in contrast to the stone. The bird dangled on the thin chain as Sienna’s maidservant clasped it around her neck, the young girl smiling widely in approval of the gift.   

    “Thank you, Lady Alyssa. It's absolutely beautiful.” Sienna exclaimed, radiant smile admiring the gift.

While Alyssa blushed shyly at Sienna’s words and the other girls encouraged her to continue opening gifts, Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the necklace. She longed to touch its smooth surface, to feel its weight against her palm. Her brows had narrowed and for the first time in a while, the envy she managed to contain, burst out a little. 

As the distractions of the gathering carried on—a game of ring toss initiated, laughter echoing through the trees. A maid began putting away all gifts, and Sienna’s nanny watched joyfully as her young lady laughed about. Y/N had lost a few rounds in, and stood at the side, watching as yet another young lady let Princess Sienna win. The almost eleven year old sighs, eyes glancing around at the wildflowers growing everywhere. The sound of the water streaming down the river not too far off, was loud even from where they were. 

Then Y/N’s gaze freezes, her eyes taking in the twinkling of the little thing on the ground. 

The crystal bird.

Her heart raced with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. Could it be true? Had Sienna lost such a precious gift amidst the revelry? Her eyes darted to Sienna, to confirm whether Y/N was actually seeing correctly. Sure enough, Sienna’s neck was bare, the birthday gift no longer dangling in its spot. 

It glimmered under the bright sun, as if it was calling her.

Y/N walked over with hesitant steps, while everyone was distracted with cheering for their center of attention. Her fingers picked up the small thing, finally getting a feel of its delicate craftsmanship in her hands. 

It should have been enough, her curiosity should have subsided once she had felt it. She should have handed it back. Yet, unable to resist, Y/N slipped away into the forest, clutching the necklace—a clandestine act born of both fascination and envy.

The second princess was great at slipping away.

Meanwhile, deeper in the Grand Forest a young boy cursed under his breath. Mutterings and mumble of words he can only say in the presence of no one grew louder as he made his way down the rocky path. Frustration boiled within him, evident in his kicks at stones and the slashes of his makeshift stick he picked up along the way, against the underbrush.

    “—Stupid teacher.” The boy muttered under his breath, kicking at dead leaves.

He’s scrawny and shorter than most boys his age, but it was clear from his attire that he came from a family well off. He walked through the forest with ease, as if he had been here many times. He glances towards the loud sound of the water flowing down the river, his brows narrowing. 

The young boy was already thirteen, yet unlike most boys his age, he was still unable to do a lot of things. Though he swore none of it was his fault. It was always, “the water was too cold”, or “the sword was too heavy”. Or that he was prone to getting sick quickly. 

    “Prince Christopher!” Another voice broke through his thoughts, accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps closing in. 

His playmate and training partner, Han, appeared, panting heavily from the exertion of catching up. Christopher groans at the uninvited boy, his playmate less, training partner. Though, he was sure that this kid was put here to keep an eye on him and always be a pain in the butt. 

    “Your highness! We-we were told not to stray too far.” Han managed between breaths, his concern palpable as he surveyed their surroundings. 

Aware of the dangers lurking beyond their borders, Han's worries escalated as they ventured deeper into this unfamiliar territory. But Christopher only rolled his eyes, attempting to deflect Han's tense words with a casual remark.

    “How can you be out of breath already? Didn't you want to be my personal guard?” 

Han straightened, a mix of frustration and duty knitting his brow, keeping the words he truly wanted to say on the tip of his tongue.

    “We should not be here. Especially this deep into the forest.” He insisted instead, casting wary glances at the towering trees that obscured the sunlight.

    “You can't just run off every time you're scolded, Your Highness.” Han added, his voice tinged with exasperation as he tried to reason with the prince.

    “Whatever.” Christopher muttered dismissively, his irritation rose with a forceful jab of his stick against a nearby tree trunk.

His impatience grew, his mood darkening with each stomp into the unfamiliar wilderness while Han's concern escalated as he scanned their surroundings, a growing sense of unease knotting in his stomach.

He eyed the tall trees.

Wait. Where were they?

They didn't somehow cross over did they?

The thought lingered, fueled by a vague memory of a path they had taken—or rather he had chased after. A risky shortcut perhaps.

    “No way.” Han muttered to himself, trying to dispel the rising anxiety. 

He shook his head, attempting to regain his composure. But a rustle in the nearby bushes were enough to push him off his edge. Eyes widening, Han froze, gripped by a sudden fear that they had ventured too far—beyond the safety of Nightshade and into the precarious realm of Elysium. 

What if they were discovered by Elysium soldiers? 

What if Christopher, the Crown Prince of Nightshade, fell into enemy hands?

The consequences were dire, his mind racing through imagined scenarios of all the worst outcomes. A war would break out—and Han would have to fight only with the most basic training of a Nightshade warrior.

His thoughts spiraled, nearly overwhelming him with their intensity. Yet the Prince had vanished ahead, Han's anxiety peaked, and he couldn't contain a whispered exclamation.

    “Ahhh! Yo-your highness!” Han called out, his voice trembling with urgency as he sprinted in the direction Christopher had taken, eyes darting frantically in search for the prince amidst the dense foliage.

The sky was a vibrant shade of blue, the sun shining brightly, reflecting beautifully off of the water that came down the river. The young prince prances from one stone to another, and as he neared the river's edge, the view of rushing water had him captivated. The notion of swimming—a skill he had yet to conquer—taunted him. He approached the water hesitantly, the temptation to prove himself nagged at him, pushing him to the peer down, where he tested its depth with tentative prods with the wooden stick.

    “Swimming can’t be too hard.” Christopher muttered to himself, determination flickering in his eyes.

He was steadfast in doing something successful today. And he chose to master the skill of swimming. 

What a brilliant idea.

Not.

He drank water. 

Panic seized him as he struggled against the water's embrace, his stick lost to the rapid flow of the river, and fear gripping his heart. The currents, much stronger than he had imagined, were pulling him away. His hand instinctively grabbed onto a stone for dear life. The young boy began panicking, fighting for his life as he was forced to dunk under the cold water a few times.

    “H-Help!” He choked out, his cry swallowed by the river's roar

He was going to die today. He was sure of it.

But of course he doesn’t. In his moment of peril, a figure emerged from the forest's shadows. A young girl, her voice ringing clear as she rushed to his aid

    “Hold on! I've got you!” She shouted, determination etched across her features.

With a strength borne of urgency, she pulled Christopher to safety, her hands firm and reassuring. And after some struggle, both were on dry land. Christopher lay gasping, his body shivering from cold and fear. The girl knelt beside him, concern etched on her face as she patted his back gently, soothing his raw throat and chest, coughs not subsiding. His savior looks down at him in concern, towering over his drenched body. He’s unable to focus, staring at her through blurred vision. There’s water in his ears and he could barely make out what she was saying. Yet the loud shriek of someone in the distance was loud enough for him to catch. 

In this fleeting moment, a distant cry shattered their tensioned tranquility, a desperate call for “Princess!” echoing through the forest. The girl's head snapped towards the sound, urgency igniting her movements once more as she turned to leave, glancing back to look at him before disappearing.

Christopher, left alone amidst the aftermath of his near-drowning, grasped at the grassy earth, clinging to solidity as he shivered and coughed. His fingers brushed against something—a cold, pokey, stringy object—and he clutched it instinctively.

Han, who looked already spooked, had almost screamed bloody murder when he stumbled upon his master in such a state.

    “Pr-Prince!” Han's voice shattered the silence, his panic evident as he rushed to Christopher's side, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. 

Han’s eyes dart around and he’s able to connect the dots—the river and his drenching Highness. Now how would he explain this to his teacher? How would he explain to the King? Han looks back towards the direction he had come from, cursing under his breath.

He had stumbled upon a gathering of the Elysium nobles on his search for his prince, and was swiftly able to conceal his presence as he backtracked. The earlier screech had dart back here. His crazy thoughts were true and they had in fact managed to cross over somehow. On Elysium land. And they should not be staying here too long, unless they wanted to get caught.

    “Don't… don't tell anyone.” Christopher pleaded weakly, his voice a whisper.

The urgency of their escape propelled Han into action. With Christopher barely conscious and shivering uncontrollably, Han lifted him onto his back, his resolve steeling against the weight of their situation. 

    “You’re going to be a warrior, Han. Don’t be scared.” He reassures himself, as he grunts to a stand with the prince dangling off of his body.

But Han was scared. The prince had fallen unconscious by now. His body was freezing and he was trembling. It also didn’t help that the plight back towards their side was a tricky one. Han's mind raced with the implications. They had breached the border, ventured too far into foreign territory. And of all days there had to be a Princess in the forest. The young boy makes a run for it. His already weak master was going to die at this rate.

Back at the riverbank, the cheerful atmosphere that had surrounded the ring-toss game now gave way to panic and concern, unfolding before Y/N's wide eyes.      “Princess Sienna!”

The desperate cry from Sienna’s nanny pierced through the air, sending Y/N's heart hammering against her chest. The once bustling scene was now a whirlwind of concerned maids, frantic shouts, and splashing water. A guard emerged from the river, cradling Sienna in his arms, while attendants and her nanny rushed to her side. The other girls, who had moments ago been giggling and playing, were now in tears, calling out to their beloved princess.

Y/N's anxiety spiked, and without thinking, she grabbed hold of a nearby maid who was on the verge of tears herself.

    “What happened?” Y/N's voice trembled with worry and fear, her eyes darting between the maid and the commotion surrounding Sienna.

The maid looked down at Y/N, her expression a mix of relief at seeing the second princess unharmed and fear for what had just transpired.

    “Where did you disappear to, Princess? If something had happened to you too…” The maid's voice trailed off, her eyes wide with terror at the thought.

    “Princess Sienna was looking for her Crystal Bird and she fell into the river.” The maid explained quickly, her words rushed and breathless.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. The mention of the Crystal Bird made her stomach churn with guilt. She suddenly realized the necklace was no longer in her possession. Did Sienna's accident happen because of her? Was it her fault for taking the necklace into the forest?

Her mind raced with self-blame and worry, her hands trembling slightly as she processed the maid's words. ─────────────────────── Christopher’s eyes fluttered open to the familiar sight of the infirmary, its sterile smell mingling with the faint aroma of medicinal herbs. His head throbbed slightly, a reminder of his near-drowning experience. His training teacher and meticulous captain of the guards, Sir Elliot, stood beside him, concern etched on his usually stern face.

    “Prince Christopher!” His teacher ran at his side, eyes looking down at the boy in concern.

Christopher blinked, trying to piece together the events that led him here. Memories of struggling in the river flashed before him.

    “I’ll go notify King Bahng.” The healer darted out of the room, leaving Christopher and Sir Elliot in tense silence. 

Christopher’s gaze met his teacher’s, noticing a rare softness in Sir Elliot’s expression.

    “You scared us, kid.”

Christopher felt a pang of guilt. Normally, his teacher was quick to criticize and push him relentlessly. Today was different—his teacher’s concern was genuine. The same man that the young prince has been cursing all day.

The door swung open abruptly, revealing the imposing figure of King Bahng, his face etched with relief. He rushed to Christopher’s side, enveloping him in a fatherly embrace.

    “My boy.” King Bahng sighs. 

Christopher’s guilt intensified. All day, frustration had clouded his mind, directed at those around him who now stood here with nothing but care and concern. 

    “Where’s Han?” Christopher asks, pulling out of his father’s hug.

King Bahng’s expression darkened briefly as he glanced at Sir Elliot.

    “He’s being punished for letting him fall into danger, my king.” The teacher explains

Again, guilt gnawed at Christopher. He realized the weight of his actions—not just the danger he had put himself in, but the repercussions for those around him.

After ensuring Christopher was out of immediate danger, King Bahng left the infirmary, casting a lingering look at his son who was always a breath away from a tantrum.

King Bahng was not the tyrant his reputation suggested. He ruled with care for his people, respected by his subjects despite his clan’s fierce history. Christopher, his only son and heir, had been shielded closely until recent years. But per the late Queen’s wishes, the father held back on pushing Christopher into his duties. Losing his mother early had hardened the young prince against affection, a fact that weighed heavily on his father's heart.

    “Brother.” Sir Elliot places a hand on his shoulder, bringing the King out of his thoughts.

They walked the corridors in silence before the King spoke.

    “What happened today could have been dangerous. That boy had failed to prevent The Prince from endangering himself.” The King let’s put a deep breath,

    “But he also did his duty of bringing him back to safety. Don’t be too harsh on him.” The King advises.

    “Do not worry, Your Majesty. His punishment is modest. My son is overseeing that he is receiving it diligently.” Elliot reassured with a nod.

The King raises a brow, looking at his brother in wonder.

    “You mean your ten year old son?”

    “Even at such a young age he takes after me.” The training master hums, his pride evident as they walk, proud that his son already embodied the values of duty and discipline instilled in him.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of the training grounds, Han’s strained expression belied the punishment he endured. The young boy, overseeing him, groaned with boredom.

    “You can take a break. I’ll make sure Father doesn’t find out.”

    “Prince Felix, you’re supposed to be watching over me. Not encouraging me to slack off.” Han sighed, muscles trembling from the wall-sits.

Felix kicks at the dirt, sitting down on the wooden chair he had been in for the past hour while he supervises. His butt hurt and the evening brought cold winds, making the child shiver.

    “Wall-sits are stupid.” He mumbles rather unenthusiastically.

    “How is His Highness’ health? Have you heard anything?”  Han asks, looking up from his hovering position.

    “How would I know? No one tells me anything.” Felix grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Clearly a little upset the two older boys went out for an adventure without him (which was probably a good thing seeing the result). The sight of him is enough to prove that he was indeed Christopher’s cousin.

Their banter was interrupted by an aide from the infirmary rushing toward them, with Prince Christopher trailing behind, warmly dressed.

    “Chris!” Felix exclaims, his small body jumped up from his chair, startling Han who struggled to maintain his balance.

    “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be recovering.” Felix states, scowling at the poor aide, who clearly did nothing but follow orders.

    “I’ve come to receive my punishment for putting the Crown Prince in danger.”

Both Han and Felix stared in disbelief at the Crown Prince’s unexpected statement.

    “Your Highness…” Han’s voice trailed off, touched by Christopher’s unexpected maturity.

Chris ignores the stupid look on Han’s face, continuing to stare into the darkening sky.

As the evening wore on and the chill set in, Felix was sent back inside, while Christopher sat beside Han, mirroring his punishment. Unlike the prince who had just begun, the younger boy’s legs give out and he grimaces, finally collapsing onto the dirt. Groaning, he looks to his master.

    “You really don’t have to continue, Your Highness.”

And immediately Christopher also sits on the ground next to, making Han stares blankly. 

    “It wasn’t mandatory for me to continue.” He smugly states, and Han blinked, dumbfounded by Christopher’s declaration, a mixture of frustration and relief. He was still the pain-in-the-ass prince.

The playmate massages his thighs, and the Crown Prince watches with guilt.

    “I’m sorry.” He mutters, making Han’s eyes shoot up at him in surprise once again.

    “You’re younger than me, yet you were able to think quickly and bring us back to safety. While I—I’m so immature, I almost got both of us killed.” 

Han falls silent. 

It’s true that If the Crown Prince had died under his watch in that river, Han knew he'd face a punishment fit for the crime. Despite being only a year and a half into training and a few months as Christopher’s playmate, Han always had his hands full with the prince, yet weirdly the younger boy didn’t complain. Maybe it was his desperation to become a warrior, or maybe he had grown accustomed to the prince’s antics. The apology, however, was a first. The same kid who normally scoffed at him daily now apologizing brought a smile to Han's face.

    “It is my duty, Your Highness. I still want to be your personal guard in the future.” Han’s words echoed a maturity beyond his years.

    “Call me Chris. There’s no one else here.” The Prince smiles in return.

Han blinks taken aback.

    “How can I? It is not prop—”

We’re going to spend a lot of time together, especially once you become my guard. Do you intend on making it awkward after every friendly joke? Just Chris is fine.” 

    “Okay. Chris.” Han hesitated, but casually addressed.

A comfortable silence settled between the newfound friends. The sun had set, the night air growing cold. Han urges Christopher to return to his warm bed, while Chris helps the young boy up, sore from his punishment. As they walked, Han suddenly remembered something, halting in his steps.

    “Oh!—” He delved into the pocket of his shorts.

    “You had this in your hands when I brought you back.” 

His palm opens, producing the Crystal Bird, its azure hues catching the starlight. Chris eyes the piece of jewelry, taking the delicate necklace, its chain slightly tarnished and scratched but still gleaming. The memory of his savior—the mysterious girl who appeared and vanished—flickered in his mind. A part of him thought he had imagined it, but there had actually been someone there. A girl. She was…

    “A princess.” Chris mumbles.

    “A princess?!” Han’s eyes widened, glancing around cautiously.

    “Don’t tell me you met one of those young ladies from the gathering by the river.” Han's whispers were strained.

Chris furrows his brows in confusion.

    “What gathering?” 

Confusion mingled with shock as the two new friends realized they had much to discuss—stories to share from their separate but interlinked ordeals. The night stretched on, filled with conversations and revelations, the bond between Christopher and Han deepening amid the secrets they unraveled. ─────────────────────── Princess Sienna had fallen unconscious. Her condition stirred panic among the staff and nobles. The royal doctor’s frantic efforts to stabilize her continued through the night. The maids and servants present at the party were imprisoned in the dungeon, accused of negligence. The nobles whose daughters had been present at the tea party were standing around in fear. If anything had happened to the princess they would all be punished. Y/N was confined to her palace.

Princess Y/N lay in her bed, tormented by guilt over the stolen gift and the consequences that followed. The little child blamed herself for everything that had happened this afternoon. She simply wanted to take a closer look at the pretty thing. She had done nothing wrong. Her mother’s stern words echoed in her mind, emphasizing the need for secrecy.

Upon her return she had confessed her wrong doings to her mother, and her mother had scared her even more.

    “Do you understand what you have done?” Her mother’s cold gaze had bore into her teary eyes.

The tight grip of the older woman’s fingers on the child’s arms made her terrified.

    “You must never speak of this. You must never confess to taking that gift.” Her words were cold, awaiting for the trembling Princess to respond with what she wanted to hear.

    “If anyone asks, you simply have wandered off  following a rabbit, or a butterfly. You know nothing of what had happened while you were distracted. Do you understand?” 

Y/N broke out into sobs in her mother’s grasp. She was scared, for her sister, for the maids who were all going to get punished.

    “Mother, it’s wrong to lie.” She cries.

Her mother shuts her eyes in frustration, fingers digging deeper into the child’s arms.

    “It is but a white lie. One that will protect you.” The mother sighs, loosening her grip, slender fingers wiping away at her tears.

    “Princess Sienna will recover. As for the maids, they’ll simply be replace.” Lady Katherine continued, her voice softer but laced with underlying urgency.

    “But for you, my daughter, the consequences could be severe. If you confess or anyone even hears a word of if, you’ll be branded a thief. Your reputation will be ruined. No one will want to associate with you. Is that what you want?”

The child looked into her mother’s now warming eyes, a small smile on her lips. Pulling her into a hug, the mother pats at her hairs.

    “Mother just wants what’s the best for you.”

The child slowly nodded, her mother’s words enough to convince herself she did nothing wrong, her stern words cut through Y/N's resolve, shaping her perception of right and wrong.

Lady Katherine, once celebrated as one of the most beautiful women in high society, had a past marked by humble beginnings in a lower-ranking noble house. Despite her family's title, they lacked wealth, a circumstance that drove Katherine to leverage her beauty as her ticket to a better life. It was this charm that caught the eye of the nation's most powerful man—the King himself.

In the lavish court where the King entertained many women, Katherine swiftly became his favored companion. While she could never match the Queen in authority, Katherine secured her place by bearing the King's child—a daughter who would forever tie her to the royal family, ensuring their future amidst the uncertainties of courtly life.

The question lingered, however, whether Katherine's actions were born out of genuine concern for her daughter's wellbeing or driven by her own desire to escape a life of want.

Despite their lower status within the royal hierarchy, Y/N’s title guaranteed attention from elite suitors in her future. Safeguarding Y/N’s royal lineage shielded her from the uncertainties Katherine had endured in her youth. For Katherine, Y/N’s royal birthright represented a promise of a brighter future.

And that was enough for the caring mother.

As dawn approached, Princess Sienna’s fever finally broke, bringing a collective sigh of relief throughout the palace. The noble families, apprehensive during her illness, were allowed to return home. The maids and servants, deemed responsible, were dismissed from service. Just as Lady Katherine said would happen. Y/N’s thoughts raced. Sienna's recovery eased some of her fears, but guilt over the consequences weighed heavily on her conscience. All those people had lost their livelihoods because Sienna had fallen into the river while looking for the crystal bird. The crystal bird that was in her possession at the time. And on top of all that she had lost it while trying to save that boy.

Y/N's head snapped up from her pillow, her thoughts immediately returning to the boy she had rescued from the river the day before. Her mind wracked, dread gripped her as she wondered if he had survived or if he still lay by the water's edge.

For an idle princess, she had too many worries.

The next afternoon, while the court was busy tending to the still fragile Sienna, the second princess slipped out of her room, ignoring her mother’s instructions to stay put. Concern for the boy she had rescued from the river consumed her thoughts.

Dodging through a hidden hole in the wall she had discovered not long ago, the young girl brushed away dirt and clutched a crochet bag, its contents clinking softly as she ran. Emerging near the riverbank where she had found the boy, her heart raced with fear at the thought of finding him lifeless. Sunlight filtered through the forest, casting dappled shadows on the lush greenery around her. Critters scurried away at her approach. Standing by the river where left him, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, she hadn’t stumbled upon a tragedy.

    “Are you really a princess?” The sudden voice startled Y/N, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

She spun around, eyes widening as she faced the boy from yesterday—alive and well, a grin on his face.

    “Were you the princess that saved me?” He asked again, his gaze filled with nothing but gratitude and curiosity.

    “I...I suppose I was.” Y/N replied hesitantly.

Christopher's expression softened, his eyes showing genuine appreciation. Y/N observed the scrawny boy before her, noting his tidy appearance compared to their first meeting. Despite his wealth and status, he appeared unusually timid, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and glancing at her shyly.

    “I wanted to thank you, Princess.” He said with a warm smile. “You really saved my life.”

Y/N blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by his heartfelt words. She had never been thanked so sincerely before, and she didn’t quite know how to respond.

    “I-I have desserts. Do you want some?” She stumbled over her words, fumbling through her bag. 

Christopher’s eyes widened with curiosity as she produced bandages, sewing thread, and finally, a bundle of cookies.

    “They have raspberry filling.” She added, looking up at him with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

His grin widened as he picked up one of the cookies, crumbs falling as he took a delicious bite.

The two sat down against a sturdy tree. Y/N ventured to ask how he had ended up in the river in the first place. Chris tried to explain but faltered into embarrassed silence.

    “I slipped.” He finally managed to say, a lie.

    “What about you? What were you doing all the way down here?” He takes another bite of his second cookie. 

Y/N hesitated, recalling her mother’s stern instructions.

    “I was following a rabbit.” She fibbed, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

Chris nodded, realizing she must be younger than he had initially thought.

    “I heard there was a birthday celebration for the yesterday. Did I ruin the birthday party?” His questioning gaze snapped Y/N out of her thoughts, still preoccupied with her little white lie.

    “Ah—birthday? My birthday isn’t until next week.” She quickly responds.

    “Oh! We must meet then. I know of this delicious cake that our cook makes. It’s the fluffiest. I’ll be sure to let you have a taste.” He exclaims, excitement written on his face.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her. Her birthday was never a grand affair compared to Sienna’s, but seeing this boy so enthusiastic about celebrating her birthday made her heart swell with happiness.

After the cookies had been enjoyed and thank-yous exchanged, the two sat in companionable silence, wondering what else to talk about. Before Chris could speak, a soft “psst” came from Han’s direction behind a nearby tree. Chris glanced back at his friend, who signaled with hand gestures that it was time to go. 

Y/N narrows her gaze, wondering what he was looking at, unable to see from her spot.

    “I must head back, Princess. It was truly a pleasure meeting you again in better circumstances,” Chris said, standing and extending his hand to help her up.

Y/N took his hand gracefully, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Her heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and curiosity about their budding friendship.

    “Shall we meet again soon? I would also like to give something in return for the cookies.” Chris suggested with a warm smile.

    “Aren’t you going to give me cake?” She questioned.

    “Surely not in return for the cookies! The cake is a birthday gift. I wouldn’t take anything in return for it.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with sincerity.

The princess ponders for a moment, but of course agrees.

    “You must let me try one of your favorite desserts then. How about two days from now, at the same time as today?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect! I’ll bring something special for us.”

After confirming their next meeting, Chris turned to leave, but Y/N’s sudden call made him turn swiftly.

    “Ah—you didn’t tell me your name.”

    “It’s Chr…” He hesitated, then decided, “It’s Chan,” grinning broadly.

    “Chan...”

Y/N repeated his name under her breath, committing it to memory, and nodded in acknowledgment as her new friend began taking backward steps. He bowed respectfully and after she returned his bow gracefully, both parted, minds swirling with thoughts of their meeting and anticipation for the next one.

    “Your Highness, you will surely be the death of me.” Han sighed, stepping forward with an exasperated expression.

    “You’ve said your thanks and had your fill of cookies. Can we please return now?” Han's voice held a hint of pleading.

Chris beamed at his friend, genuinely happy yet also amused by Han’s concern. He threw an arm over Han's shoulder, causing the younger boy to stumble slightly as they began walking away together.

    “Oh, my friend Han, don’t worry. I’ll be careful,” Chris reassured him, his tone earnest.

Han sensed that his anxiety would only continue to grow as he followed the energetic crown prince back towards the palace.

Poor playmate, resigned to the fact that Chris’s adventurous spirit was bound to keep him on his toes. ─────────────────────── to be continued.

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