Archive of Our Own

As you trudged up the stone stairway, heavy buckets of water swinging from your arms, you stopped to wipe the sweat off your forehead – and curse the day your father had ever been born. 

One of the captains, a tall, built archer overseeing the supply stockpile, caught sight of you, and, aghast, rushed down to help. 

“Milady, you shouldn’t be carrying loads like that all this way by yourself!” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Captain Jeong, but – if I don’t, who’s going to?”

You’d been under siege now for weeks, and morale inside was wearing very, very thin. Everyone knew that you were fighting a losing battle. 

Once the two of you had lugged the water buckets up to the ramparts, you quickly got to work distributing water to the hot, tired archers and pulling aside those that needed medical attention. There were only a few, luckily, with mild injuries, but you couldn’t take care of them until Jeongin came up with your bandages and salves and more water.

As the two of you herded the injured men into some shade, you turned to the captain, wanting to assuage your guilt in some way. 

“I know words don’t mean much right now, but I’m sorry that you all are having to go through all of this…” you trailed off, not knowing what else you could say. 

He leaned against the parapet, looking down at you with a wry half-smile. “Yunho. You can call me Yunho, milady…It’s really not that bad, compared to things we’ve gone through before…the boys down there seem like they want to wait us out more than anything. We haven’t lost any men since the first day they showed up.”

“Thankfully,” you said grimly. “If they threw everything they had at us, we wouldn’t last a day.”

For you had no ordinary enemy waiting outside your gates right now. The Bangs were only spoken of in hushed whispers in these parts, the collective memory of their ruthless might and devastating tactics stretching back for centuries. While your grandfather had painstakingly managed to wrangle together a careful peace, allowing an entire generation to grow up without the fear of war looming over their heads, your father – with his heavy-handedness, his hubris and sheer stupidity – had torn it all apart in  a few simple, greedy strokes. Then, when the Bangs rightfully demanded their fair due, he’d turned tail and fled in the middle of the night, leaving you and Jeongin behind to clean up his mess. 

And now, you had the scion of that nefarious family camped out just a stone’s throw away from you: Bang Chan. There wasn’t a child in the eight realms who hadn’t heard of his name, his frightening skill as a warrior, or his fiery hair - dyed in the blood of his enemies, as the rumors had it. You knew they were ridiculous - but you still couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran down your spine. 

Given the events of the past weeks however, you were more skeptical of the man’s reputation. Bang Chan was clearly formidable, an impressive combination of intelligence and might and masterful leadership. But if he was truly the bloodthirsty monster the stories made him out to be, he would have just smashed his way through your small kingdom in days, enslaving and pillaging your people for all their worth. This careful siege was the sign of a man with great restraint – and enough forethought to realize this was a war nobody here wanted to fight. 

At the sound of a shout behind you, you shook off your somber thoughts, turning to see Jeongin running at you like a madman, frantically waving a letter. 

“Innie, where have you been? And did you not bring any wa-”

“No, stop, this is important! It’s a message from the southern borders – and the messenger said that it’s urgent.”

The southern borders? That was the direction your father and his men had headed in when they’d left, and you hadn’t had any word from him since. 

You hastily took the scroll from him, breaking the seal and unrolling it so that both you and Jeongin, peering over your shoulder, could read it. 

And what you found there took your breath away. 

My lord and lady…

I write with somber tidings. At your command, we were scouting in search of His Majesty, The King’s party at our southern borderlands this morning when we found the remains of five men. Their clothing, height and weight all corresponds with them being His Majesty, The King along with his four knights, and I myself, along with three other men, were able to positively verify each of their identities. 

We are currently en route to the castle with the remains, which we have done our best to preserve. I am writing you this missive in strict confidence so that you may take the necessary actions in the meantime. 

“The king is dead, long live the King…” you whispered, turning to look at your brother with wide, shocked eyes. Jeongin was pale, swallowing nervously as the weight of what had just happened truly hit him. 

“The king is dead, long live the King!” The two of you turned to see Yunho, new fire blazing in his eyes, bending a knee to Jeongin and bellowing out the proclamation. 

Across the ramparts, men stopped what they were doing in shock, dropped their weapons and took a knee as the chant spread like wildfire. In a matter of seconds, you and Jeongin were the only people left standing amid the din; fierce pride and love in your heart, you reached up to cup his face, pressing a stately kiss to his forehead. 

There was hope. 

It had to end – now. Jeongin and you both agreed that the first and most immediate course of action needed to be ending the siege; you had no interest prolonging a war neither of you had wanted to fight in the first place. 

The very next morning, Jeongin ordered your defenders to stand down, leaving a single company of archers on the ramparts. A conspicuously blunted arrow, a thick scroll wrapped around its shaft, was expertly shot to land right in from of the enemy standard. 

Observing from the walls, you saw Bang Chan himself, the red glint of his hair unmistakeable, step out of his tent. As one of his men untied the message, Chan looked thoughtfully up at your defenses, clearly lost in thought. 

Somehow, some way, almost as if it was meant to be, you watched as Chan’s eyes slowly came to land on you. Even from so far away, the intensity of his gaze seared through you. Within the blink of an eye however, Chan’s attention was drawn away to the scroll, leaving you wondering if you’d just imagined the moment. 

While a lesser man would have gloated, reveled in his victory, Chan was made of better stuff. As he read through the letter, you saw his features slightly relax; he granted himself a moment to briefly close his eyes before turning back to his commanders. Before he disappeared into his tent however, he looked up your way yet again; when his eyes finally found yours, he gave you a gentle, but regal nod.

The reply came back quickly. Chan agreed to a cease-fire and convene a council in the castle with your advisors and his to negotiate terms. For his own safety, he would additionally bring his personal guard in with him; he didn’t need to spell out what the consequences of any betrayal would be.

For the first time in weeks, the great drawbridge was lowered. As the church bells tolled in sonorous joy, you watched your sweet Jeongin, the royal diadem awkwardly perched on his head, ride out with your knights to welcome Chan – your new overlord, you realized suddenly with a pang in your heart – and his party. The two men formally clasped hands, exchanging the customary greetings; as they turned to head inside the castle, you hastily jumped down from your perch. You were already an unwanted invitee for this council meeting – you shouldn’t make it worse by being late. 

While your father had been a stickler for traditional norms, it was Jeongin who called the shots now. He’d made it very clear that it was your choice to come to the council or not, and if you did, he would make sure that your opinion was respected. You wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

You arrived just in time, running up to Jeongin’s side just as everyone was about to enter the chamber. Your brother flashed you a quick, heartfelt smile before discreetly squeezing your hand, giving - and receiving - strength before this first, perhaps biggest, test of his kingship. 

“Your sister, I presume?” You turned to see the man, the legend – Bang Chan himself – walking up to the two of you, studying you with intelligent, thoughtful eyes. 

While you’d caught glimpses of him here and there from the ramparts, you were not prepared for the sight of the man that stood in front of you now – Chan was handsome. While he may not have been tall, he was still physically imposing, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a strong, masculine jaw. For someone who spent so much time on campaign, his skin was still somehow milky pale, a trait that only set off his dark, almond eyes and full, pouty lips to full effect. 

You realized that you should probably be scared of him; after all, this was a man whose supposed bloodlust was the stuff of scary bedtime stories. But - as you watched the way he carried himself, the way he looked at your and Jeongin’s still entwined hands with gentle understanding in his eyes - something told you that Bang Chan was a man you could trust. 

At the sound of his voice for a second time, you snapped your gaze back down to the ground, flushing slightly as you realized you’d ended up staring at him. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Princess – about your intelligence and bravery and skill as a healer. It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

You were taken aback a little by the sincerity of his praise, the warmth in his gaze as he gave you a small bow, let alone the fact that he even acknowledged your presence, something that – judging by the disapproving glances of his advisors – was a courtesy that you, a princess of a defeated nation, didn’t deserve. 

 Not really knowing how to respond, you merely murmured your thanks, sinking into a deep curtsy in front of him. 

There was just something about him – something magnetic – that sucked you in, rendered you almost mute in front of him – and you needed your wits about you for what was about to go down. Therefore, you quickly made your excuses and slunk back to hide behind Jeongin. So much for your so-called bravery. 

As the heralds announced the formalities necessary to begin the meeting, the disappointed advisors from before now looked outright shocked as you took the seat right next to Jeongin. For Chan’s part, he kept his expression carefully neutral – though you could swear that you saw an amused smile flash across his face when you raised a challenging eyebrow at a particularly belligerent-looking general of his. 

As both sides presented their initial terms, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. It was clear that Chan and his advisors were engaged in a tug-of-war of their own to decide how to deal with your little nation. In characteristic fashion, Chan had championed diplomacy – a peaceful, bloodless annexation of your city that would keep most of its existing power structures and rules intact. 

The advisors, however, were baying for blood. Chan’s penchant for even-handedness had become a major point of contention with his generals, who didn’t take too kindly to having their influence and power snatched away from them. It was obvious that they didn’t want to be having these negotiations in the first place – they would have preferred to just crush you in battle and conquer you completely – but, since talks were happening, they were now pushing for punitive, harsh terms. 

What to do with Jeongin – and by extension, you – was another major point of contention. Chan typically allowed rulers who negotiated with him in his initial overtures to remain in power, treating them as loyal vassals but keeping a watchful eye on them. Those who fought him, however – if they weren’t killed in the fighting, they were typically relieved of their titles and estates, sent away to be a governor of another province far, far away from their own. 

Jeongin, however, was in the awkward position of having surrendered after fighting a war started by his father. Given the strength of his ties to the land and general popularity amongst the people – which greatly outweighed your father’s – the logistically simplest choice would be to leave him as King. But – could he be trusted?

It was this point that the generals zeroed in on to launch their attacks. 

“Your Majesty, you cannot rely on these people and their loyalty. The Yangs have shown again and again that they are backstabbers and cowards – they have no honor.”

Next to you, you felt Jeongin bristle, tensing at the blatant insult. Tamping your own emotions down, you laid a calming hand on Jeongin’s arm; pride was a luxury the defeated didn’t have. And, more to the point – your father’s actions had only proved what the man was saying.

Seeing the lack of resistance from your camp, the man pushed forward. “And not just them - this entire court must be rounded up and forced to pay for their actions. I would suggest, Your Majesty, that the deposed Yangs are removed to a place far, far away,” the smug, greasy lord turned to address Chan directly, a serpentine smile on his face, “and that one of us be placed in charge of overseeing this integration process.”

So you can raid and fill your own coffers at the expense of my people, you thought to yourself, lip curling in disgust at his cruel greed. 

“Lord Cho.” Chan’s voice rang out loud and clear, cutting the man off. “Your…enthusiasm for our cause is appreciated, but such flagrant disrespect will not be tolerated.” With a wave of Chan’s hand, the man had no choice but to sit down, still spluttering; your lips couldn’t help but quirk slightly at the sharp dismissal. 

What he said next though took your breath away.

“The lord general does raise a valid point.” You and Jeongin both sucked in a sharp breath; your hand immediately clutched at Jeongin’s thigh. 

“I still insist on a peaceful annexation,” Chan gave his advisors a meaningful look; they had no option but to duck their heads, simmering in resentment. 

“I am also still heavily inclined towards leaving my lord Yang here as my lieutenant and the governor in charge. But…” he trailed off for a second; you held your breath, knowing your future would hang on whatever came out of his mouth next. 

Chan lifted his head, surveying your side of the room before locking eyes with you; they were still the warm, inviting brown they’d been before – just with a harder edge to them. 

“I would need collateral.” You bit your lower lip in thought – and you could almost swear that Chan’s gaze strayed down to your lips for just a second before flitting back to your eyes. “I need something to convince me that you won’t just turn around and start plotting against me the second we leave your lands.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. What in God’s name did you have left to give? Your men, your lands, your treasury was all forfeit; all Chan’s to do what he wanted with. And anyways, the best collateral was always human. Your parents were both dead now, and there was no second or third-born son to give up as a hostage. It was just Jeongin…and you.

“Me.” 

You didn’t even consciously mean to speak up. Before you knew it though, all eyes in the room were boring into you, including Chan’s. As you looked back at him – you knew that this was what you had to do. 

“What do you mean, Princess?” Chan was still staring at you, a curious, contemplative look on his face. Moving to face Jeongin, who was staring at you with a horrified expression, you gave him a reassuring glance. As you turned back to address the full room, you reached under the table to discreetly squeeze Jeongin’s hand, trying to show him that you were confident with this decision. 

You took a deep breath before lifting your head, staring right at Chan. “I can be your collateral – as your wife.”

It was almost as if you launched fireworks in the room. Voices exploded from everywhere: muttering about your audacity, begging you to reconsider, exhorting Chan to shut you down and throw you out for your insolence – and whispering about how, in reality, it might just work as a solution. 

Once Chan’s aides had got a handle on the volume, you let Jeongin take over the talking – it was crucial for him to project a strong presence, especially given your earlier outburst. As the two of you had hurriedly discussed during the hubbub, he proposed a marriage between your two families, formally ending your enmity. Your state would come under the hegemony of the Bangs; you would be human collateral to ensure Jeongin’s loyalty, and your dowry would serve as material recompense for the fighting and damages that had been incurred. 

In the ensuing rumble of murmurs as both sides mulled over the proposition, your eyes found Chan, who was studying you with an unreadable expression on his face. This time, you openly held his gaze, trying to project more confidence than you actually had. You thought you saw Chan’s expression soften – just a little bit – before he closed his eyes, seeming to take a moment to think for himself. When he opened them again, they were looking straight at you, warm and clear. 

“I accept.”

The wedding was a quick, rushed affair. No one had any pretenses about what it represented – a hasty, expedient marriage of convenience – and Chan was eager to get back to his capital after weeks of being away. Ultimately, all you ended up taking away from the ceremony was the warm strength of Chan’s hand as he held yours in front of the altar, and the delicate brush of his soft lips against yours to seal the deal. 

The feast afterwards was also shorter and more subdued than typical. Chan’s reputation preceded him, and a good number of your people were still scared stiff just at the sight of him - the flashes of his blood-red hair in the firelight serving as a reminder of just who he was in case someone managed to forget. Despite Chan’s efforts to be as kindly and welcoming as possible, the only person who really talked to him was Jeongin, who, to your surprise, had seemed to warm up to his new brother-in-law considerably. As for you…not knowing where you stood, you just chose to stay quiet, answering Jeongin’s worried glances with hopefully reassuring smiles – and avoiding your husband’s curious eyes. 

Before you knew it, you were posed in the royal chambers, ripe for the taking. Shivering in your thin nightgown, you curled up on the carpet in front of the fire, hugging your knees to your chest as you stared off into the flames. The heat, while soothing, did nothing to quell the thoughts within you. 

You weren’t nervous about what was expected of you tonight, you told yourself. As a healer, you had ample experience with both the good and bad of what could happen – you’d made up sachets of moon tea for blushing girls who were only too excited to share stories with you, and you’d made up salves and poultices to heal women cursed with cruel, selfish husbands. 

As for your husband…despite what the rumors said, despite what everyone else thought, you knew somehow, deep down, that you didn’t need to be worried. Chan had only treated you with respect and kindness until now, even when he didn’t need to. Even if your night wouldn’t be spectacular, you figured that it wouldn’t be dreadful - hopefully. 

What you were thinking about was what came after. What would happen when you went to Chan’s court – when you arrived as his wife, as his consort. Here, you were used to a simple life – you spent your days growing herbs, making medicine, and saving Jeongin from whatever scrapes he got himself into. You barely had any official, royal duties to carry out. Now…you had no idea what you were signing up for.

At the sound of a knock behind you, you shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts out of your head, before getting up to go face your husband. 

When Chan walked in, still clad in his wedding finery, you were struck again by just how gorgeous your new husband was. You’d never seen him from this close before, in this intimate of a setting, and, as he softly smiled at you, all you could see were his dimples, the glow of his creamy skin in the candlelight, and the warm pools of his brown eyes. 

“W-Welcome, my lord,” you opened lamely. What was it about this man that made you so tongue-tied every time? You self-consciously walked over to him, aware that your nightgown, long and high-necked though it might be, clung to your skin – a fact that Chan, judging from the slight flush to his cheeks, seemed to be trying his best not to appreciate. 

“They really didn’t dress you with practicality in mind, did they?” He gestured to your nightgown disapprovingly, keeping his eyes fixed carefully on yours. “Here – take this, at least until you’re under the covers.” 

Before you could reach out to stop him, he unclasped his heavy cloak and draped it over your shoulders. As he leaned in to fasten it around your neck, the slight passes of his fingers over your sensitive skin and the faint whiffs of his heady, intoxicating perfume sent shivers down your back. 

Not knowing what to do now – and desperately needing to clear your head – you stood awkwardly in front of him, watching him move to take a seat on the settee and lean down to unlace his boots. 

“I can hel-”

“No,” he stopped you with a laugh. “I’ve been dressing and undressing myself for years. I’ll be fine; you should go try to warm up.”

Not knowing what else to do, you perched yourself gingerly on the mattress, clutching his cloak tightly around you. As you realized that Chan was slowly starting to peel off more and more layers, now tugging at the ties of his overcoat, you couldn’t help but still, pulling yourself to sit up ramrod straight. You weren’t scared, you repeated to yourself. You refused to be scared. 

“You look like a lamb going to the slaughter,” Chan remarked with a chuckle tinged with – regret? sadness? You weren’t sure – you just kept your eyes trained on your feet as he continued disrobing. “A proud, brave lamb, but a lamb nonetheless,” he murmured, seemingly to himself. 

You soon felt the mattress sinking under his weight as he sat next to you, soft fingers under your chin tilting your head up. “Look at me, wife,” Chan asked in a gentler tone than before. You slowly raised your eyes to his, unsure of what you would find there. As always, the man was hard to read – you could tell he buried his true self behind thick, heavy walls. Still, you thought you saw a gleam of tenderness peeking through. 

“I give you my word that I will not take your virtue until it is freely, willingly offered.” His sincerity shone through in his eyes, just as his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be scared, please – I respect you too much to let any harm come to you.” 

He turned away from you abruptly, as if he’d accidentally said more than he’d intended to. 

“We should, however, pretend like I did bed you tonight – we don’t want anyone questioning the validity of this marriage.” The two of you knew very well that Chan’s generals were itching for an excuse to resume hostilities – and there would be nothing better than an unconsummated marriage for them to force Chan to put you aside and thus destroy the treaty you’d sacrificed yourself for. 

“What will we do about the blood then, my lord?” Being a healer yourself, you of course knew that not all women bled their first time. However, antiquated norms still dictated that, the morning after the wedding, courtiers would barge into the royal bedroom, both to tease the newlyweds and check the bedsheets for blood, “proof” that the marriage had been consummated. You’d basically created a secret, anonymous business dealing vials of fresh animal blood to noblewomen who couldn’t procure their own before their wedding night – but, with the chaos of the preceding days, you hadn’t been able to get one for yourself. 

Chan gave you a wry smile. “Well, it doesn’t matter whose blood it is, does it?” Within the blink of an eye, he’d pulled a small dagger out of his waistband, slashed a cut across his palm, and smeared his blood onto the sheets – irrefutable evidence. 

You stared up at him in disbelief, frozen as he simply cleaned the blade off, ignoring his wound. The sound of the dagger sliding home into its scabbard, however, startled you out of your daze. 

As Chan looked at you in surprise, you snatched the dagger from his hand, deftly cutting off a strip of your nightgown to serve as a clean bandage. Hastily rising from your position on the bed, you sought out a small cubbyhole hidden in the corner of the room. You had made it your responsibility to keep all of your family members well-stocked with healing salves, and there should still be some left in this room. Seizing upon the jar you were looking for with a small cry of satisfaction, you turned back to your bemused husband, who had been following your movements with intrigued eyes. 

Taking him by the uninjured hand, you led him to sit by the washbasin, immediately setting yourself to the task of cleaning and dressing the cut. While you could feel your husband’s gaze intently studying you, you shied away from looking at him, choosing to focus on your task instead. Wrapping the cloth securely around his hand, you dripped candle wax to secure the bandage, taking care to not burn him or yourself. 

You were just checking to make sure the bandage was firmly bound when you heard Chan’s voice softly addressing you. 

“Did you make that salve yourself?” 

Now that your initial wave of adrenaline had worn off, you felt yourself becoming a little hesitant again. What would Chan think of you, of your skills? So, you nodded timidly, fiddling with the edges of the bandage to avoid looking into his eyes. 

“Wow.” You looked up to find Chan with a warm smile on his face, eyes looking at you with admiration. “Where did you learn to do all of this, pet?”

Tendrils of warmth shot through you. Chan was clearly impressed with your skills - and for some reason, his approval made you feel really good. Also…you didn’t know why, but him addressing you like that – affectionately, almost…lovingly – made you feel good inside, made you want to open up to him. 

“I-I’ve always really liked flowers and plants, even when I was a child. I got in the habit of collecting herbs for our castle physician; as I got older, I went from watching him make salves and poultices to learning how to make them myself. I got myself a formal apprenticeship with him, and it just grew naturally from there, I guess.” You shrugged it off with a sheepish, but proud grin. 

 “Ah yes, without any hard work or discipline or talent on your part, I imagine?” You could hear the laughter, the teasing note in his voice, and you couldn’t help but giggle yourself, letting yourself look back into Chan’s face - only to find him already staring at you, a hint of something like…longing in his expression. 

Chan gazed into your eyes for an extra beat before breaking away, standing up and clearing his throat. “For tonight at least, I’ll need to sleep in this room with you. I’ll be taking the floor, so don’t w-”

“No,” you blurt out, flushing as Chan quirked an eyebrow at you. “We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow, my lord, and you need your rest too…I really don’t mind if you want to sleep here with me.”

Without waiting for a response, you tossed his cloak off and jumped into bed, burrowing yourself into your half of the sheets. After a brief pause, you heard Chan stand up and walk around to the other side of the bed. Stealthily peeking out from the covers, you felt heat burn through you as your husband took his undershirt off, exposing the creamy, muscular expanse of his back to your suddenly hungry eyes. Mercifully (or not – you couldn’t decide), he chose to leave his pants on before blowing out the candles and climbing into bed. Leaving a good amount of space between the two of you, Chan sank into his side of the mattress with a tired groan – you’d clearly made the right choice by letting him get quality sleep. 

You dithered on whether you should say anything - whether you’d make it feel awkward or weird or anything. But after a moment of hesitation…

“Sleep well, my lord.”

You heard a muffled, but mournful chuckle in response. “Sleep has never been my friend, unfortunately.” Chan paused, seeming to weigh his words for a second before continuing. “Now that you’re here though…maybe that will change.”

After a second or two of silence in the dark, you felt the sheets rustling with motion – followed by the weight of a warm hand on your shoulder. 

“Good night – and thank you for taking care of me.” Warmth blooming through you, you reached up to squeeze his hand back, unexpectedly savoring the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. 

“Good night,” you whispered back. You went off into dreamland with a smile on your face, the heat of his touch still radiating through your skin. 

It seemed that your unconscious self lacked the inhibitions you normally did - for when you woke up, roused by the soft rays of morning light streaming into the room, you found that your body had clearly decided its feelings about your husband. 

Over the course of the night, you’d somehow plastered yourself to Chan’s bare back, throwing an arm around his waist and wedging your calf between his. You were dwarfed by his shoulders, but one of your arms had wound itself around his trim waist, placed securely on his tight abdominal muscles. 

You gulped. 

Just one feel wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Listening carefully to the sound of his breathing, making sure it was steady and even, you let your hand trace over your husband’s toned torso before carefully bringing it back…and letting it trail down to his bottom. As you snuck in a light, barely-there squeeze, you couldn’t help but frown – how was it fair that your husband had a perkier ass than you did?

Little did you know that Chan had already been awake for a while, unable to force himself to leave the warmth of your embrace, and was now desperately trying to stay quiet, not knowing whether he wanted to laugh or moan at your wandering hands. 

Chan was nothing if not a pragmatic man. He’d been looking to take a wife for a while, and while his ministers back home might chew his head off for not finding a foreign princess with a massive dowry or trade deal to back her up, he had successfully managed with this marriage to end a war without significant bloodshed – always, always a win for him. 

However, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that you were the real reason he’d agreed to the marriage. You’d caught his eye from the very moment he’d seen you, standing so proudly, bravely on your castle defenses, then again in the council meeting. 

The final twist of the knife in his heart, however, came last night. As you were prettily bent over his hand in your torn gown, the candlelight illuminating your face, carefully bandaging his cut – he knew that he was starting to fall for you. 

Now, all he had to do was convince you to believe him and trust him, and hope that, in the process, your heart would begin warming to him as his had done to you – easy, right?

Muffling a sigh, Chan decided that he had let himself indulge in your arms for too long. 

“I can feel you blinking against my back, you know,” your eyes widened as you heard your husband’s lazy drawl. Snatching yourself away from him, you watched as Chan rolled over to face you, propping his head on his arm. When did he wake up? You flushed at the knowing smirk on his face. 

“I trust you slept well, pet?”  

You just nodded, still embarrassed at getting caught. “And you, my lord?”

“Yes – better than I have in a long time.” Chan sat up, lazily stretching; the satisfied groan he let out in response – combined with the sinful view of his back and arm muscles flexing – traveled right to places it didn’t need to go. 

You swallowed hard, averting your eyes quickly so Chan wouldn’t pick up on your staring. You normally considered yourself to have good self-control, but…when it came to your husband, you just fell apart. 

You needed to extricate yourself from the situation before you positively imploded from desire. “Uh, my lord – should we get up? It seems like it’s already getting late, and we probably really need to get on the road an-”

But your husband, perceptive almost to a fault, had missed nothing. As you scrambled off the bed, Chan merely leaned back against the headboard, eyeing you slyly. Arms crossed behind his head and sheets pooled around his waist, he looked like some sort of Greek god, tempting you into sin. 

Watching you with a dark, almost wild glint in his eyes, Chan just laughed. “Sweetheart, if I let you get up now, looking like that, no one will believe that I made you mine last night.” 

Your breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is – you still look too pure, too innocent. Untouched. Unmarked.” He reached an arm out, taking your hand in his. He gently but smoothly tugged you back down to kneel next to him, his grip loose enough for you to pull away if you wanted to. 

He brought his other hand up to your face, softly tracing your cheek with the back of his fingers. 

“If we want to make this charade convincing, there’s other evidence we need to fake, right? Your hair, your skin, your dress.” He trailed his fingers over each as he named it, goosebumps following in their wake.

“What I said last night still stands – and will stand.” And looking into those warm brown eyes - you had no doubt about it. “But, just for this morning… can I mess you up a little bit, pet?”

Yes, please. Your body knew its answer immediately, and the vehemence of your nod made Chan chuckle as he lifted you into his lap, settling you over his legs to protect his sanity – and your own. 

He started off tame, much to your relief. Reaching around you, he grabbed the end of your plait, which you’d dutifully done up as was your routine last night, and pulled off the tie in one smooth motion. He carefully worked his way through separating the strands of hair, tenderly shushing your whimpers when his fingers accidentally caught on a snag. When he finally reached the top of your head, he worked his fingers into your scalp, softly tugging and pulling and running his hands through until your hair was wild, forming a sinful halo around your head. 

You found yourself feeling almost lightheaded, falling into a trance like none that you’d ever experienced. The feeling of Chan’s strong, calloused fingers suffused warmth through your whole body, and you could feel yourself starting to go limp against him – fully submitting yourself to him, to do with as he pleased.  

“Don’t you think you’re enjoying this a little too much, sweetheart?” The sound of Chan’s amused voice roused you from your stupor, and you looked up at him with hazy eyes. His expression showcased so many different emotions – protectiveness, awe, enjoyment, desire – and you were entranced. The two of you just gazed into each other’s eyes, locked in a charged moment, before Chan cupped your face, tilting your face down so he could give you a sweet forehead kiss. Sparks, warmth blossomed in you at his duality: his teasingly careful, tender treatment of you – and the dark, powerful desires clearly lurking beneath.

“So…what do I get in return, hmm?” He gently teased you, softly chucking your chin on his way to the neckline of your nightgown, thoroughly searching your eyes for any hint of reluctance. When he found none, his fingers sought out the laces holding your gown closed, carefully starting to unravel them. 

“I’m just going to undo enough that it starts hanging off you, okay?” You agreed quietly, mind still lingering on his question from before. How could you reward your husband? As you studied his face, you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his beauty – his expressive, dark brown eyes; his oversized, masculine nose that you just wanted to tug at; and those sinfully pillowy lips. The soft brushes of his fingertips against the sensitive skin of your chest were slowly starting to kindle a fire within you – and you suddenly realized that there was only one thing you wanted to do. 

“Alright – this should be go-” 

You cut him off by softly, sweetly pressing your lips to his. 

Chan froze under you for a split second, mouth tense with surprise. Before you could pull away however, afraid that you’d read his body language wrong – he relaxed into you, opening his mouth under yours and allowing your tongue to tentatively delve in. 

While his lips were just as soft, just as plush as you remembered, this kiss was nothing like the perfunctory one from yesterday. Chan – his taste, his heat, his essence – washed over you like a heady wave of warmth, casting you out into a sea of passion and sensation as your lips worshipped each other. 

Ever so slowly, Chan started to dominate the kiss, swallowing your moans and claiming your mouth with intense fervor. His fingers, still tangled in the ties of your gown, pulled you closer as he leaned back, bringing your chest flush against his – and your core into the cradle of his hips. As he suckled at your lips, the sound of your soft, muffled whimpers, and the sensation of your hands shyly inching over the hard planes of his chest and shoulders all seemed to infuriate him. Abruptly breaking the kiss, he dived headfirst into your neck, licking and sucking and physically marking his lust onto your skin. The little pinpricks of exquisite pain, dancing on that ever-thinning line with pleasure, sent sparks shooting down your spine, traveling straight to the place that was aching for him most. 

You jumped as you felt strong arms wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer. As he ground you down onto him with seductive, enticing strength, fingers bruising the skin of your hips, Chan ghosted his mouth over the delicate shell of your ear. “Naughty, naughty girl.” At the powerful thrust of his hips into yours, you threw your head back, gasping in shock as pure heat flooded your body. 

However, the sound was enough to break through the lusty daze Chan was trapped in; pulling away from you and breathing heavily, his eyes roved over you: taking in your wide, blown-out pupils, hazily staring down at him; your swollen and puffy lips; your bruised and marked neck and chest.

“Fuck, babygirl…” you flushed harder – if that was even possible – at his dark, appraising eyes, at the barely suppressed hunger in his voice. “I really messed you up, didn’t I?” 

You just nodded mutely, hanging your head, still speechless and utterly out of it.

There was a beat of silence, and Chan hesitated. You realized too late that your lack of response, your whimpers, your silence could all have been easily misinterpreted as you watched the desire clouding his eyes give way to hints of concern, confusion. 

“Did I…I hope I didn’t go too fa-”

The rest of what he had to say was interrupted, in dramatic fashion, by the blasts of a trumpet from down the hall. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Chan swore under his breath, hands unconsciously tightening on your sides. As his fingers unwittingly clawed into the sensitive skin of your waist, you couldn’t help but flinch away from him, letting out a sharp whimper of pain. 

Chan went stiff, hands startling away from your body. “I-I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his eyes wide in shock. “I didn’t realiz- I didn’t mean to force my-”

What? Force himself? Oh no, no…Chan had drastically misunderstood what was going on, and you rushed to cut him off. “No, no, not all - you weren’t do-”

It wasn’t meant to be. At that moment, the doors to your bedchamber were flung open, and the courtiers and servants all flooded in, ready to heckle the newlyweds out of bed. At the sight of you still perched on Chan’s lap, the hubbub only increased. Your maids rushed in to haul you away, aiming to bundle you up before half of Chan’s court got an eyeful of you. Chan didn’t resist as they pulled you away from him, his arms dropping loosely to his sides, almost as if in defeat. 

You stumbled as they stood you up, thighs sore from being spread over Chan’s legs for so long. “Milady!” One of your more innocent maids gasped, eyes riveted to your exposed skin. “Y-your neck…it’s ruined,” she blurted out, tracing her fingers over your mottled chest and neck in horror. Comforting arms wrapped around you, supporting your weight as you were tucked into a warm blanket; but you could see the hostile glares your maids were directing at your husband, hear the barely muffled whispers of “violent” and “vicious” and “monster” that were being throwing around. 

You saw red. How dare they play on those rumors, say such awful things about Chan when he hadn’t done anything wrong? You angrily commanded them to hush, visibly upset enough that they quieted down immediately.  

But the damage was done. Looking over your shoulder for one last glimpse of Chan, you found him staring after you, pain, hurt and sorrow radiating out from his eyes. As your maids almost frogmarched you back to your rooms, you told yourself that you could just talk things through with Chan the first opportunity you got - tell him that he hadn’t forced his affections onto you in any way; that you knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you. You could fix this, and you could fix this soon. 

As you settled into your new life however, you came to realize just how wrong you had been. 

For not just days, but several weeks had passed by – and your husband was doing his very best to avoid you as much as possible. 

Upon your arrival, Chan had taken good care to set you up well. To your absolute delight, one of the very first things that he’d done was to have you introduced to Gaius, the castle healer and herbalist, and have you installed as an informal apprentice. You were given a lavish suite of rooms for yourself, directly adjoining Chan’s, along with a small retinue of attendants – all chosen with care to be familiar with your habits and tastes from home. Chan had also appointed a tall, clever man named Seungmin to be your chief aide, giving the two of you free rein to try your hand at whatever problems you saw fit to tackle. With Seungmin’s help, you’d already been able to start a few projects to improve the running of the household as well as to expand the castle infirmary, and in the time you had left over, you made your way down to Gaius, helping him prepare his concoctions and arguing with him about new formulations. You were busy, and you were mentally, intellectually satisfied with everything you were accomplishing. 

Emotionally, however? You were lonely. Yes, you had Seungmin at your side everyday, and he was masterful at keeping you on your toes. You’d also become fairly close to Chan’s younger brother, Felix, who’d made it a point to bring you treats from the kitchen and help you with your gardening whenever he could. But…there was only one man you truly wanted to see – and of him, all you had were glimpses. 

Most often, you ran into your husband in the halls or in the courtyard, in the few moments where he wasn’t parked behind his desk or training or caught up in meetings and audiences - it hadn’t taken you long to realize that your husband was an absolute workaholic. In those settings, he was always serious and professional, even down to the dark colors he wore, his heat-ironed, straight hair and the light kohl that was the only makeup he permitted. While he always, always had a small, but kindly smile for you when you saw him in public, he never pushed any further – though you could always feel the heat of his dark gaze on you, following you in and out of his sight. 

There were a few instances, however, where you’d gotten hints at what lay beneath that hard exterior – and what you’d seen had taken your breath away. The way his eyes crinkled, his dimples on prominent display as he tussled with his dogs, his creamy skin glowing in the sunlight. The soft pout of his plush lips, the wild tussle to his curls when he had to drag himself out of bed far too early– a heavenly vision you’d only gotten to see by chance one morning, but one that you would pay dearly to see again.  

You wondered what you and Chan would have been like – if you had been a wife he’d loved, rather than a wife he’d been handed.

Your thoughts often drifted back to that one night, that one morning where you did have him in your arms. To your surprise – and shame – those thoughts typically found you most often at night, leaving you tangled up in the sheets, a desperate ache between your thighs – one that you knew only he could truly relieve. 

You’d tried, in one of the rare moments you’d gotten him alone, to talk to him, to tell him firmly that he didn’t do anything wrong that morning. Chan had just looked at you with another gentle smile that didn’t reach his eyes, telling you that he understood before making his excuses to walk away, leaving you behind knowing that - no, he didn’t understand.

And the one door separating you from the object of your desires, your own husband – it stayed locked. 

It was your fault. At the end of the day, yours was an arranged marriage – one contracted for politics and practicality, not for love and partnership. Yes, from the way Chan had looked at you the day of the treaty, from the way he’d treated you in bed – you’d thought that there might be something there, the tenuous glimmers of a connection starting to build between the two of you.

But maybe you’d mistook mere interest, casual lust for something more.

You should have known better, you scolded yourself. Chan had no obligations to you emotionally or romantically. You were just the fool who wanted too much. 

And that was that. 

Until…

One serendipitous session of eavesdropping changed everything.

You’d set the afternoon aside to head down to the infirmary, itching to put your hands to good work. To your delight, Gaius didn’t disappoint, giving you a list of herbs to prepare for him. 

“Belladonna, Gaius? And foxglove? Who are you trying to poison now, huh?” You joked, nudging the old man as you passed behind him. 

Rather than taking the bait however, Gaius merely waved you off with a short laugh – and a smile that seemed just a touch tighter than it should be. You shook your head, cringing at yourself as you headed back out into the warm sunlight; you were the lady of the house, and new at that - you couldn’t just go around joking with people like that just yet. 

But soon, all thoughts were pushed out of mind as you knelt down in the dirt, slipping your gloves on before starting the routine you knew like the back of your hand - checking that the plants were healthy, brushing through the leaves to find the darkest, healthiest ones to snip off, and dousing them with spirits to let them sit before you took them back to your workroom. The methodical nature of the work; the ability to do something hands-on, to get your hands dirty - you never felt more at peace than when you were practicing your craft. 

Just as you were finishing up, about to head back to your the workshop, you were startled by the sound of footsteps - a rarity in this part of the garden. Without even thinking about it, you quickly ducked behind a bush, wanting to get a peek at who was invading your territory like this. 

To your surprise, it was Chan and Felix, engrossed in a seemingly heated conversation as they walked out into the courtyard. Chan was dressed simply in a loose dark robe and pants, his hair mussed from his fingers running through it all morning, but you could feel your heart beat just a little faster, as it always did, at the first sight of your husband.

You debated whether you should go say hello. Chan would probably run away as soon as he saw you - you sighed to yourself yet again at the thought - but Felix would make for good company as you went about your tasks. 

Your decision was made for you, however, when you realized that the topic of their conversation was you. 

“I’m your brother, so I’m going to say this plainly. You need to stop being an idiot, hyung.” 

Your eyebrows shot up almost on their own; Lixie was always the peacemaker - you’d never heard him be so forceful before. 

You listened in as he continued, voice only increasing in pitch. “You aren’t doing any favors for yourself or your wife if you keep ignoring her!”

Chan, the most agitated you’d seen him yet, scoffed at Felix’s words. “Don’t oversell it, Lix. She’s definitely happier not having me around.”

“And how could you possibly know that if you don’t spend any time with her?”

Chan exploded. “Because the first time I had her alone, I hurt her, Felix! You didn’t see what I did to her neck, her waist…” He turned away, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. “Her maids looked at me like…like I was the monster everyone thinks I am.”

Pain coursed through you at his words. You should have anticipated that Chan would know of the rumors about him…that he could easily be hurt by the rumors about him. And you had just played into letting him internalize them all again. 

Your head sank down to your chest with feelings of self-reproach, with guilt. Yes, Chan’s insecurities weren’t your responsibility to fight for him; but at the same time, you could have done more to help him open up - to show him the way you truly felt about him, to help him feel comfortable enough with you to actually talk about what happened. 

By the time you looked back up, Felix had walked up closer to Chan and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. When Felix spoke again, his voice was much softer. “Did she say you hurt her?”

“No…”

“Has she tried to talk to you about it?”

“Yeah-” 

“And what did she say?”

“I-I didn’t really give her a chance to talk about it fully but…she said something about how I didn’t do anything wrong, but…”

“But what?” 

“I’m her husband, Felix…she probably feels obligated to give herself to me, whether she truly wants to or not.” 

“But you won’t know what she wants unless you ask her right?”

And at that, Chan had nothing to say. Felix went in for the kill. 

 “I’ve seen the way she looks at you – the way she lights up when you walk into a room, the way her eyes follow you around wherever you go.” 

At Chan’s disbelieving gaze, Felix merely raised an eyebrow, standing his ground. “It’s obvious to me that she likes you – a lot. So, please…” You watched as Felix’s fingers tightened on Chan’s shoulders, showing just how important he thought this was. “Don’t cheat yourself out of your happiness, hyung - you deserve to be loved.”

And there was nothing you agreed with more, you realized as you watched them walk off together, Felix’s arms wrapped around his brother. 

Chan deserved your love, and you deserved his - and you weren’t going to back off any longer. This was your chance, your opportunity to show Chan that his fears were unfounded – that you cared for him, that you wanted him around – that you wanted him to be yours and you to be his. If there was ever a time for you to sit up and take some initiative – it was now. 

You set your plan in motion for the very next morning. Chan was a creature of habit, and you knew that he typically took breakfast by himself in his solar before his meetings for the day. It was the perfect opportunity to get uninterrupted time with him, time where you could finally sit down and have it out with him.

Of course, that was much easier said than done. You spent most of the night tossing and turning and woke up a full two hours in advance of breakfast, spending the entire time agonizing over what to say, how to say it, what to wear, what to do when you finally saw him. 

All the fretting was helpful in a way. By the time you were outside the room, ready to knock on the door, you’d spent up your nervous energy, and you felt your mind clearing. You could do this. And you were going to do this. For Chan.

Chan was already at the table when you walked in, swallowed up in a cozy couch while working through his daily reports. Giving him a quick once-over before he caught sight of you, you smiled to yourself – Chan had clearly rolled out of bed mere minutes ago. He’d tucked his nightshirt, clearly wrinkled from a night of tossing and turning of his own, into a random pair of pants, and he kept having to brush his unruly curls out of his eyes as he bent over the parchment. 

“You’re very early today, Seung-” Lifting his head to see, Chan froze at the sight of you in the doorway, hastily scrambling to his feet. 

“My lady…” he trailed off, momentarily at a loss for what to do. But Felix’s words had clearly left their mark on him, and you watched as newfound resolve washed over him, straightening his shoulders out and lifting his gaze to yours. “Welcome,” he matched your smile with a careful, hopeful one of his own, before gesturing to the chair next to him.

As you both sat down at the table, Chan guiltily raked his fingers through his messy hair. “I’m sorry that I look like such a mess,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m terrible at waking up in the morning, so I never get ready in time for breakfast.”

“I see you dressed up all the time,” you blurted out. “So actually…it’s really n-nice to see you like this.” Your cheeks were burning in self-consciousness - but the look of surprised happiness, of renewed confidence on Chan’s face was reward enough for you to be even more bold. 

“My lord, I - I’m here because I overheard your conversation with Felix yesterday.” 

You watched apprehensively as Chan stiffened the slightest bit at your words - but you knew you needed to do this.

“I can see why you might have thought the way that you did, but…everything you did that day, I wanted. You didn’t force yourself on me, you didn’t misuse me, and-” You seized his hands in one of yours and let the other smooth over his fiery curls, looking deep into his eyes. “You’re not a monster. The way you handled the war, the way you treated Jeongin, the way you look after everyone here…everything that you’ve done for me…” You ended in a near whisper, pausing to keep your voice from quavering. “I’d never thought that I’d have a husband who’d treat me as kindly as you have, with as much respect, as much care - I didn’t even let myself dream of a husband who’d let me work with my herbs. My lord, you…you’re everything I could have ever wanted.”

By the end of your little speech, Chan’s eyes were shining, brimming with barely controlled emotion. Slowly, hesitantly, almost as if he were handling a forbidden treasure, he lifted his hand to your face, thumb tracing gentle circles over the soft skin of your cheek. You leaned into his palm, reveling in the touch that you’d longed for for so long, and words spilled past your lips unbidden.

“I’m sorry - I should have cleared this up a long time ago, but I convinced myself that you didn’t want me…that you didn’t care for me the way I’d started to care for you.”

His fingers stilled. Chan’s head snapped up abruptly, eyes wide in surprise.

“What?” His voice came out in a whisper, in disbelief. Now that it was out in the open, you met him straight on, lips upturned in a gentle smile. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I don’t know exactly when or how it happened, but I - I like you. I like you a lot,” you said with a little, embarrassed giggle. You might even love him a little, you thought to yourself - but there were some things you still wanted to keep close to your heart for now. 

Chan was utterly still for a second, just looking at you with those warm, brown pools of light that were his eyes. You let yourself just look back, staying calm and confident, just wanting to show him how serious, how sincere you were. 

When he spoke again, his voice was gruff, husky with emotion. “Come here, pet,” he murmured, reaching an arm out for you. Your heart soared as you let him tug you out of your chair, easily pulling you over to his couch. You squeezed in next to him - and immediately took a deep breath. While the couch was roomy for one, it was definitely a bit tight for two - you were fully pushed up into Chan, half on his lap; his hard, muscular form pressing into you delightfully as he held you against him; the pale V of skin exposed by his nightshirt mere inches away from your lips. 

Chan took a moment to just take you in, running his palms over your arms, your back with a featherlight touch, as if he were just confirming that you were real, that you were indeed here. His touch lulled you into a pleasant haze, eyes half-closed, when he softly started speaking. 

“Did you know, love, that I wanted you even before I first saw you?” Now, it was your turn to be surprised, but Chan laughed off your look of confusion. “I first heard the rumors about you when we started out on our campaign – the fiercely intelligent, bold princess of the East, who could set bones and run a kingdom, all in one breath. And I just remember thinking to myself – a woman like that, a woman exactly like that is who I want to be my Lady. And then, when I saw you running around on those ramparts, working day and night to take care of your men…” He trailed off, sliding his hand up to cup, caress your cheek. “That might have been the first time I realized I never wanted to take my eyes off you.”

You felt your cheeks starting to burn, that shyness you always felt around him rearing its head. 

“I know I messed things up-” he laid a hand on your arm even before you opened your mouth, anticipating your protest. “I might not have hurt you, pet, but I did mess things up by making the assumptions I did and not talking to you about it. Felix showed me that yesterday, and what you’ve told me today just confirms it - I should have taken better care of you, and I shouldn’t have left you to be so alone these past weeks. I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry too.” 

And, watching you carefully, making sure you were okay with what he was doing, he slowly leaned in to seal his apology with a gentle, tender kiss, one that sent warmth spiraling through your body - that made you feel whole, complete in the ways you’d been lacking since you first experienced what it was like to be in your husband’s arms. 

But the two of you were clearly hungry for more, having been starved of contact for so long. The kiss soon started to devolve, quickly morphing from something purely affectionate to something more…charged. You moaned as Chan’s lips started nibbling at yours, demanding entrance that you were all too happy to grant. His hands had just started to migrate south, inching towards the source of your pain and pleasure and ache, when…

“Breakfast, sire!” A heavy knock sounded from outside the door, followed by the low murmur of voices gathering. You let out an involuntary whine as you realized your alone time was up, Chan’s entourage of servants waiting outside to serve him. 

“We never have good timing, do we?” In contrast to you, Chan looked rather amused, the barest hint of a smirk on his face as he took in the sight of your swollen lips, of your thighs clenching together hopelessly in search of relief. 

“Just a second!” He called out, before turning his attention back to you. “Tonight,” he whispered, the intensity of his gaze only worsening the ache between your legs, before softly pressing his lips in a placating kiss to your forehead. “You’ll be mine tonight.”

And with that, he gracefully deposited you back in your chair and called for the servants, forcing you to snap out of your daze. 

Tonight. You couldn’t wait. 

The two of you spent the rest of the morning together, working side-by-side in amiable, affectionate companionship. Ignoring the curious glances from his staff, Chan had settled you in with a massive plate of food and a small stack of papers of your own, saying that he wanted your advice on requests related to medical supplies and budgets. You smiled inwardly as you bent over your work, surreptitiously inching your chair closer and closer to Chan’s; you could see yourself starting every day like this - you and your husband, side by side. 

“Mhmm, just what I need…” 

You’d just gotten up to snag seconds from the sideboard - after all, keeping your hands off your husband was hard work - and glanced back over to see a servant bringing Chan tea. At first, you didn’t think too much of it - it seemed like the poor man was just sick, sweaty maybe from a light fever. However, something, some odd feeling that something was off about the situation, made you take a second look at him. 

That was when you noticed it. The red rash speckling across his hands, marring his right hand especially. His fingers were starting to blanch white, and he was clenching and unclenching them sluggishly - as if they were falling asleep, starting to loose all sensation.   

Your worst fears were confirmed when you saw, just barely clinging to the back of his tunic, a stray flower petal, colored that beautiful, distinctive shade of vivid blue-purple – wolfsbane.

Your blood turned to ice. 

Someone was trying to poison your husband. 

A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, your heart starting to race with adrenaline. Seeing that Chan was engrossed in his reading and not reaching for the tea just yet, you urgently took stock of everyone in the room. You knew you could trust Changbin and Seungmin, but there was no way you could inform them in time without potentially tipping off the conspirators. There were half a dozen servants milling around the room, and you had absolutely no idea who was in on the plot or not. 

You had to act, and you had to act quickly. 

Chan started to blindly grope around for the teacup, still immersed in his reading. Trying to be as nonchalant, as natural as possible, you slowly ran your fingers over his outreached hand. As his eyes snapped to you in surprise, you leaned in, stage-whispering breathily into his ear. 

“Let me serve you your tea, my lord.”

Snatching the cup out of his reach, you tried to unobtrusively pinch him, trying your best to signal with your eyes that something was up. After blinking for a second in confusion, Chan seemed to understand that you were up to something; he relaxed into his role, painting a lascivious smirk on his face and lounging back in his chair as he watched you sashay over to him.

Taking a deep breath, you draped yourself over his lap. Swirling the cup of tea in your left hand carefully – you were determined to keep Chan from touching even a drop of the poison – you leaned into his chest. As you brought your lips to his ear, Chan wrapped an arm around you to pull you close, hand smoothing along your side, temptingly close to your breast. In any other circumstance, you were sure you would have been putty in his hands. With the gravity of the current situation however – you were only focused on one thing. 

“My lord,” you whispered. “Can you look over my shoulder and watch the servants carefully for a second? See if any of them react to what I do next.”

Confusion swirling in his eyes, Chan softly nodded his agreement – and if your blood wasn’t already starting to run cold from what you were about to do, you would have found his trust in you heartwarming. 

Indulging in the sight of your husband for just a second longer, you forced yourself to turn away from him, steeling yourself to your task. 

Bringing the cup of tea to your lips, you downed its contents in one, dramatic gulp. 

At the sound of gasps behind you, Chan’s eyes widened. As he put everything together, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the servants, you watched the blood drain out of his face. 

“What have you done?” Chan’s fingers dug into your flesh, almost to the point of breaking skin; horror and anger and desperate fear all warring in his eyes as he shook you. “What the fuck have you done?” 

Without even waiting for a response, Chan sprung into action. Sweeping you up into his arms, he roared at Changbin and the other guards to seize the guilty servants – “Throw them into the dungeons; I’ll deal with them later myself” – before rushing out the door, breaking into a near run as he beelined for Gaius’ chambers. 

“Why…why would you do that?” Chan couldn’t meet your eyes, staring fixedly, almost blankly ahead as he rushed through the hallways. The slight tremble to his lip, however, and the haunted, stricken look in his eyes gave him away. “I’m a goddamn fool – I robbed us of so much time – and now…” he trailed off, unable and unwilling to finish the thought. 

You needed to conserve your strength – you knew that was imperative, if you wanted any chance of surviving the struggle you were about to be facing. But you desperately wanted to reassure your husband, to take away his pain in some way. Your arms were beginning to feel weak, but you had the energy to loop them loosely around Chan’s neck, surprising him into staring down at you. 

“I’ll be okay, my lord…” you eked out as you buried your head into his neck, lips and tongue ever so slowly starting to go numb. 

“You will.” The heat in Chan’s voice startled you into looking up at him, a newfound fire blazing in his eyes. “I refuse to let anything happen to you, love – I promise.”

You arrived at the workshop to find Gaius strangely, conspicuously absent – but he had left you a miraculous present in his place. When Chan set you down at your bench, you were stunned to find everything you could have needed – charcoal powder, the belladonna and foxglove he’d had you prepare, magnesium salts, even fresh water – all readily laid out for you. While Gaius himself was gone, he’d somehow anticipated exactly what would happen…but you didn’t have time to dwell on that now. 

Grabbing an empty bucket, you forced your fingers down your throat, trying to make yourself gag. When you finally succeeded, the reaction was violent; you fell to your knees as you retched up everything that you’d had to eat that day and more. 

Warm fingers brushed through your hair, holding it back out of your face. Chan. With soft murmurs of apology and concern, he bodily supported you until the spasms had passed and watched on intently as, with all the energy you could muster, you rushed to mix some charcoal powder with water and down it as fast as you could. 

Once you were done, you sighed in relief. “That…will help.” Talking was becoming more and more difficult as time passed, and you could feel yourself getting weaker and weaker. While you had everything that could help you in front of you, you couldn’t do it on your own; you needed someone to nurse you, watch over like a baby for the next several hours – if you even made it that long. 

“I’m glad.” You felt Chan’s warm, strong arms surrounding you from behind, willingly supporting your weight as you sank into him. “Here,” Chan closed your hands around two objects: a piece of parchment and a quill. “Write down what I need to do to take care of you – I’ll be here for as long as you need, love.” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head, and your heart still fluttered, weakly, at the casual, loving affection you’d craved for so long. 

With increasingly shaky handwriting, you wrote down basic instructions for him: keep you regularly drinking water; for every few glasses of regular water, give you a glass of magnesium water; every hour, give you a glass of charcoal water; check your three pulse points regularly, and if they were weak or slow, give you a little belladonna; and, if your heart started beating erratically – give you the foxglove and pray. 

It was a lot, especially for someone who’d only ever been in an infirmary as a patient before. But – this was Chan. 

With the intensity and energy blazing in his eyes as you did your best to teach him – you knew there was no one else who you could trust more to save you. 

The next several hours were a daze of pain, discomfort and exhaustion, your mind slipping in and out of awareness. The one constant, the one presence that you felt with you the whole time, however – was Chan. 

Wiping away your sweat and tears with soft, cool cloths. Carrying you back and forth without complaint to the garderobe. Religiously taking your pulses and listening to your heart, just how you’d showed him. Coaxing you so gently, so patiently to drink your water and take your medicine. Cuddling you in his arms, rocking you back and forth and rubbing soothing circles into your back. 

Through your delirium, you thought you picked up on snatches of different voices conversing with Chan: Felix’s slow, low tones; Changbin’s raspy, quick bursts; and Seungmin’s measured, steady words. It seemed that Chan had been running his investigation of the incident from the infirmary, resting in a cot with you held tightly against his chest. 

It was during one such conversation that you woke up, feeling the most lucid that you had until now. Still, you kept your eyes closed and squirmed back into Chan, not wanting to lose the peace of resting in his arms. 

“How is she doing?” It was Felix this time, his voice pitched low to keep from potentially disturbing you. 

Chan brought his hand up to your head, softly smoothing his fingers over your tangled hair. “I think she’s doing a lot better. She hasn’t thrown up in a long while now, and her heartbeat seems a lot steadier.” 

He leaned his head down on yours, taking a deep breath. When he finally spoke, undercurrents of barely suppressed emotions swirled plainly in his voice. “I was really worried there for a while, Lix. In the beginning, she was having such an awful time that…I seriously thought I was going to lose her.”

You heard Felix shuffle closer to the cot, a dip in the mattress suggesting he’d sat down next to Chan. “Well, looks like we thankfully don’t have to worry about that anymore…” Felix trailed off with a humph, shoving himself off the bed. “And you don’t need to worry about your bullshit idea that she hates you anymore.”

Chan let out a rueful chuckle. “You guys are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No, and for good reason.” You heard the sound of footsteps as Felix started walking away, but he soon came to a stop again. 

“Take good care of her, hyung – and of yourself.” 

As the sound of Felix’s steps grew fainter and fainter, you felt your husband’s arms wrap around your shoulders in a solid hug. “I know you’re up, love,” Chan pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, letting out a soft, fond laugh. “I’ve been watching over you for so long, I feel like I can do a better job of telling when you’re awake than you can right now.” 

You reluctantly cracked an eye open, peeved at being caught. Scrunching your face and fists up in a massive yawn, you didn’t see how Chan was looking down at you, like you were the most adorable little thing in the world. 

“How are you feeling, babygirl?” 

“A lot better.” You smiled up at him with soft eyes, enjoying the view of your husband from up close like this. 

Chan looked down at you hopefully. “Do you think it’s over then?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, grinning at the bright smile on Chan’s face, his dimples out in full force. “Feeling better means the poison’s out of my system now, thankfully. It’ll probably take me a while to get my full energy back, of course, but…” You heaved yourself up enough to bury your head into his neck, curling your fingers into his shirt; your husband was finally giving you cuddles and affection, and you were going to milk it for all its worth.

“You don’t have to worry about me dying on you anymore.” 

Chan said nothing in response to that, just choosing to pull you in tighter to his chest. 

As the blanket covering the two of you dropped to your waists, you noticed to your surprise that Chan was still wearing his night clothes, the same outfit he’d had on at breakfast. 

“Wait…how long was I out for?”

“It’s almost dark now, so…most of the day.”

“And you haven’t changed? You didn’t leave at all?” You’d been sure that you’d just dreamed up some of what you’d remembered up in your deliriousness, fixating on Chan’s scent and seeing him instead of someone else. But…

“Pretty much, yeah,” Chan admitted with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I got up a few times to use the bathroom, and Min brought me a bite to eat so I got out of bed for that, but otherwise…I was here the whole time.”

He loved you. The way he’d taken care of you; the way he was holding you against him; the way he looked at you, his heart laid bare in his eyes – you wondered how you could have been oblivious for so long. 

You startled him – and yourself – by snatching him up in a fierce hug, crushing yourself into him as powerfully as you can manage. 

“Thank you.” Your voice wobbled with effort. “For not giving up. For being so strong. For saving me. Without you, I don’t know if…”

“No.” Chan firmly cut you off, tilting your head up to look him straight in the eyes. 

“It was nothing, my love,” his voice cracked a little. “Nothing compared to what you were willing to give up for me.” He dropped his head forward onto your shoulder, burying his head into the curve of your neck – breathing your scent in and reminding himself that you were indeed still there. 

“I have so much I need to make up to you, pet.” You shivered at the promise in his voice, his breath dancing along your sensitive skin. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, and it still won’t be enough.” 

Cupping your face in his hands, Chan leaned his forehead against yours, just barely brushing his lips to your nose before straightening up. “But for now…get some more rest, okay? You need to recover your strength.” Overwhelmed by emotion – and tired from the talking and shifting around – you nodded, wanting nothing more than to curl up with your husband again. Chan helped slide you down to a comfortable position on his chest, strong hands holding you carefully against him. 

You drifted off to the image of warm, limpid brown eyes and a feeling of safety, stability like nothing you’d ever experienced before. 

It was only after several days that you found out what had actually happened. 

Your marriage had been the breaking point for Chan’s generals, already stretched to their limits with Chan’s penchant for diplomacy and reform, his repeated undermining of their authority and influence. So, they’d hatched a plot that could bring both of you down - murder their lord using poison taken from the herbs in his lady’s garden, setting you perfectly to take the fall for treason. You learned that Gaius had been blackmailed into extracting the poison for them; you realized that he’d known full well that they wouldn’t let him live to spill their secrets, and that was why he’d had you prepare the belladonna and foxglove - as a hint of what was coming, but also as antidotes for you to try and save Chan’s life with. You wept until you couldn’t weep anymore. 

You also learned that, for all the warmth and care he’d shown you, Chan had ice-cold metal running through his core. After that first night in the infirmary, Chan wasn’t the same. While the plot and its conspirators were slowly being unraveled, Chan always had a haunted, distracted look in his eyes - like he didn’t deserve to be in your presence, to take you in his arms until he’d avenged the wrong done to you. So when, almost a week after the incident, Chan entered your rooms with his shoulders thrown back, his gaze clear and calm and resolute once again - you knew that he’d exacted his justice, showing everyone exactly what would happen to those who mistook his kindness for weakness. That night, he finally let you pull him into your bed, let you settle against his chest and drift off to sleep, your limbs entwined, bodies curled around one another.

For the rest of your recovery, you never slept alone again. Of course, Chan insisted that the two of you would do nothing but just sleep until you were back in full health – he was Chan after all – but you were satisfied nonetheless. You finally knew what it was like to fall asleep and wake up in your husband’s warm, muscular arms every day – what it felt like to have his plush lips pressing sweet kisses into your sleep-warmed skin, what it felt like to run your fingers through his glorious crop of curls. You were happy. 

A few weeks after the incident, when your loving, only slightly overprotective husband was ready to let you go, you made your jubilant return to public life at the autumn harvest feast. While you hadn’t cared too much either way, your maids had insisted on dolling you up for the event; dressing you in a beautiful new gown that set off your eyes, your hair, all of your assets to great display. 

And as you walked down the grand staircase and caught sight of Chan, waiting for you by the door, you were incredibly, profoundly glad that you had listened to them. 

While a day didn’t go by where you weren’t mesmerized by your husband, you found that he looked absolutely lethal tonight: tight, molded leather pants, and a short black silk robe with gold detailing, tied just loosely enough to leave wide swathes of pale skin open for your perusal; his fiery hair parted to the side, smoothed up and off his forehead, smoky eyes regarding you with the lightest touch of fire in his gaze as you came up to his side, ready to enter the hall. 

“You look breathtaking,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before taking your arm in his. 

“I think that’s my line, my lord,” you giggled. “You’re lighting my very heart on fire,” you quipped, tugging at a lock of his hair with a sheepish grin on your face. But the flush on Chan’s cheeks, the wide curve of his lips as he beamed down at you - you didn’t mind a little humiliation if that was your reward.  

The feast was the most enjoyable evening you’d ever had in your life. The food, the music, the company - with Felix and Seungmin at your side, you laughed more than you’d laughed in years. But best of all was Chan’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, tucking you safely, warmly into his side. The heat suffusing your cheeks was basically permanent at this point. 

As the sips of honeyed wine you’d taken kicked in, you relaxed even more into Chan’s side, dropping your head onto his shoulder. You looked around, taking in the sights of all the laughing, smiling, merry faces around you. In a way, it almost felt as if this were your wedding feast. It fit perfectly - you as the giddy, blushing bride; Chan as the loving, doting groom; and everyone around you celebrating your union, making merry over the good fortune in front of them. And in that vein…maybe tonight would be the night that you would truly become a wife. 

Suddenly, the way your husband was pressed against your body - the feeling of Chan’s warm hand curled around your hip, his bulk pressing firmly into your side - took on a new meaning. Moisture began to pool between your thighs, and you began to shift uncomfortably in your seat as the barest hints of a desperate, profound ache settled in the pit of your belly. You wanted him - you wanted Chan more than anything you could imagine, and you had no idea how you were supposed to last for the rest of the evening in a state like this. 

However, you didn’t count on your husband’s observation skills. You jumped as the arm wrapped around your body tightened, and Chan himself leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You never can hide it, can you, pet?” It was all you could do to hold back a gasp at the heat of his breath against your ear, at the feeling of his fingers dancing teasingly over the sensitive flesh of your hip. “Sitting there worrying your lip, rubbing your legs together like that’s going to do anything,” he drawled, your mind going blank at the teasing lilt coloring his words. You turned your head to look at him and almost wished you hadn’t - the arch of his eyebrow, the slow, sinful curve of his lips only sent another wave of desire rippling through you. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Can we…can we please leave?”

Chan’s smile turned positively predatory. 

“Anything for you, my love.”

Smoothly, with effortless poise, Chan pulled you to your feet and made your excuses, giving the two of you the chance to escape with nary a soul the wiser. You’d barely shut the two of you into his rooms before he pounced. 

“Needy baby,” Chan murmured, backing you into the door until you could feel every inch of his warmth pressed up into your front. “You want me that bad, hmm?”

“So much,” you squeezed out, shivering as Chan’s lips brushed the softness of your earlobe, tongue darting out to trace the delicate shell of your ear, before moving to your cheek, your forehead. Ignoring the wood digging into your back, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him to you so tightly that you imagined the two of you could almost melt into one. It felt so right to be in his embrace like this - so warm, so loving - that you felt your shyness melting away. This man was yours - and you were his. 

“Chan,” you whispered, your husband’s gaze turning molten as he heard his name on your lips for the first time. “Please.” 

And with that, his lips crashed down onto yours. Heat exploded throughout your body, making your very toes curl with pleasure as Chan tasted his fill of you, hands sliding up your throat to hold your head still for him as his mouth ravaged yours. Your hands, finally granted the freedom to explore, roved wildly over his body, mapping out the dips and valleys of hard muscle and soft skin that you’d craved to touch for so long. As your fingernails dragged against the taut muscles of his abs, Chan groaned into your mouth, pulling his lips away with difficulty. 

“We didn’t wait this long just for me to fuck you against a door, pet,” he rasped out. “And that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you keep teasing me like that.” 

Sparks shot straight to your core - and you found yourself aching to see what would happen if you pushed him even more. So, keeping your eyes wide and innocent, gaze fixed on Chan’s, you let your hands wander further back, drifting lower until your fingers found the tempting swell of his ass - and squeezed. 

“Minx,” he hissed, eyes narrowing playfully. And suddenly, you felt the ground falling away from under your feet as Chan snatched you up in his arms, walking the few steps to the bed before tossing you on. You were still bouncing from the impact of the landing when he crawled onto the mattress, caging you under him as his lips descended on yours, fingers entangling themselves into the ties of your bodice. Eagerly, with soft kisses and moans and words of praise, the two of you worked each other out of your clothing, sending garments flying from the bed until your bodies finally met, skin-to-skin, flush against one another for the very first time. Your eyes fluttered shut, overcome by just how warm, how sinfully good Chan felt against your body.

Soft lips brushed your forehead, then your cheeks. “How are you feeling?” You opened your eyes to find Chan looking down at you, his hair tousled, cheeks ruddy with the first hints of a blush, and eyes glowing - clearly just as enraptured as you were.

“Blissful,” you murmured, lifting your hand up to thumb at Chan’s cheek - before arching an eyebrow at him. “And a little impatient.”

Chan blinked for a second, then threw his head back in a delighted laugh. “I should have known,” he mused, gaze sharpening as he let the toughened skin of his palms drag up your torso, goosebumps trailing in their wake. You gasped as he cupped your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh with just the right level of roughness. 

“I’m sorry I’m not doing enough for you, sweetheart,” he teased darkly, lips curving into a smirk as he watched you squirm under his hands, mewling as his fingers moved to tweak your nipples. “Let me make it up to you now, hmm?”

And in one easy, fluid motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, keeping you prone and flat against the bed as he positioned himself on top of you. “I want you to relax for me,” he whispered into your ear. “Just close your eyes and let me take care of you, okay?” With your head buried in the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, you let yourself embrace the darkness - for your senses were now purely reduced to him. The weight of his body pressing you down into the mattress. The scent of his musky perfume enveloping you, the sound of his voice murmuring into your ear. You were his - and he was all you knew. 

So, you nodded yes. 

Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, Chan twisted his hand into your hair, gathering it out of the way with delicious pressure on your scalp, before laving his tongue over the soft skin under your ear, grazing the tender flesh with just a hint of teeth. Your hands fisted into the sheets as you cried out in sensitivity, overwhelmed at the sensation. 

As he continued to suckle dark, tender bruises into your neck, his free hand roamed your body, mapping out all of the spots that made you shiver and whimper - the undersides of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the crease where your bottom meets your thigh. You moaned as he palmed the flesh of your ass, dancing dangerously close to your now leaking core. And when his fingers finally found your folds…

“Fuck, babygirl…you’re so wet,” he purred. “I could probably just slip right in like this, don’t you think?” 

You could feel the bulbous head of his cock teasing your entrance, and you clenched at the thought of how well it would fill you up, how good it would make you feel. 

And as if that wasn’t enough, he slowly started to grind his hips into yours, his hardening length catching on your folds in the most maddening way. 

“Chan,” you whispered. “P-please…,” you choked out, frantic for something. Some pressure, some friction, anything to take the edge off at least even a little.

“Hmm?” He leaned his head back into the crook of your necks, so close that you could feel his lips moving against the shell of your ear. “Did you need something, sweetheart?” 

You could feel him smirking against your skin, so pleased with himself. Smug bastard. But you were desperate – and you weren’t above begging at this point. 

“Fingers, Chan…please, I need something,” you moaned. 

Once again, you found yourself flipped over. But this time, your husband was looming over you, eyes dark and dangerous. “My angel just needs something to fill her up, doesn’t she?” And you let your head fall back, groaning in pleasure, as you felt not just one, but two fingers slotting into your entrance. 

You’d been ready for it to burn, hurt even - but you were so aroused, so desperate for relief that his fingers slid right into you, your walls sucking them in as Chan scissored you open. 

“Good girl,” Chan hissed. “Taking my fingers so well, like you were made for me.” 

“Because I was,” you whispered. “Because I’m yours, Chan…please, make me yours.” 

Chan’s fingers stilled, sliding out of you as he looked down at you with an unreadable expression. But then – in the span of a millisecond – he’d caught your lips up in a searing, toe-curling kiss, one that you knew you’d never forget as long as you lived. 

“There’s nothing else in the world that I want to do more, my love,” he breathed back, voice thick with emotion. And as he settled his hips in the cradle of yours; as he pressed into you, filling you up with one powerful, breathtaking push – you felt a sense of completeness, of rightness that settled in all the way down to your bones. 

You were already far gone from his previous ministrations, from the sensuality, the emotion of it all. So, with just a few well-placed thrusts, the weight of his pelvis grinding down with delicious friction onto your clit, you felt yourself climbing and climbing higher, could feel that cord twisting tighter, just about to snap – and when it did, you felt a veritable wave of pleasure crash over you, sending warmth furling through your body from head to toe. Slowing down to let you ride out your peak, Chan cursed, mouth dropping open in a moan as your walls clamped down on his length, their rhythmic pulsing driving him nearly to distraction. 

“I’m a goddamn fool,” he rasped out, watching with hungry eyes as you trembled at the touch of his fingertips, tracing softly over your oversensitive clit. “Imagine – I could have had you like this every night, every morning, every spare moment I could get my hands on you, love.” 

You groaned weakly, futilely trying to meet Chan’s thrusts - your sensitivity be damned - but he pinned your hips down. “It’s okay, babygirl,” he cooed. “Just let me do all the work, okay?”

And work he did - Chan drove into you with powerful, deep strokes, your breasts bouncing almost painfully from the force of his thrusts. You couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your heart beating in your ears and the slap of skin on skin as your husband claimed your body, took you as his. In your hazy, fucked-out state, you couldn’t focus on anything but him - how gorgeous, how beautiful he looked above you: lips swollen, bruised from your kisses; sweat beading on his forehead; veins popping and muscles tense as he exerted himself. 

“Y-you’re doing so well for me,” he stuttered out, hands roughly dragging over your body. You could tell he was approaching his own high from the way he was biting at his lip, eyes screwed up in concentration. So, you dragged your nails over his skin again, feeling his abs contracting in response, and with the little strength you had left in you, clenched down on his length. 

That was enough to tip Chan over the edge. With one final, harsh thrust and the wildest moan you’d ever heard from him, he exploded - his dick throbbing in you as hot, thick cum flooded your pussy, your walls fluttering weakly in response. You cradled him into your neck as he collapsed onto you, drained but satiated.

Of course, Chan being Chan, he only let himself catch his breath for a few seconds. Shoving himself up out of your arms, he carefully pulled out of you before standing up, grabbing a discarded blanket to tie around himself as a makeshift sarong. Leaning back down over you, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Try to relax, love - I’ll be right back,” he murmured, brushing a few loose strands of hair off your forehead, before venturing out. 

You had absolutely no idea how he managed it so quickly at this odd of an hour, but Chan was soon back with a bowl of warm, fragrant water and a fresh towel. He swiftly cleaned you and himself up with careful hands and soft apologies every time he grazed an area that was a little too sensitive. But your winces of discomfort, the burgeoning soreness between your legs were all forgotten when he slid under the covers with you once again, body bare and warm against yours. The two of you laid there snug in each other’s arms, legs entangled, in a comfortable, cozy silence. You were almost about to drift off, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of Chan’s heart, when he suddenly spoke up. 

“I…I wasn’t too rough with you again, right?” While his voice remained calm, heartbeat still steady under your ear, you looked up to find hints of vulnerability flickering in his gaze. 

“I enjoyed every second of it,” you smiled up at him, letting your hand drift up to smooth over his head. “Besides, I like it when you…do all of that. Use me like that.” You felt yourself start to flush, heat rising to your cheeks. “It feels really good.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, relief and amusement shining from his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.” In one confident motion, his hand slid down the curve of your back, giving your ass an experimental, possessive smack; at your answering moan, the automatic thrust of your hips into his, he broke into a full on grin, laughing and pulling you even more tightly into his arms. For a second, he just held you against him. Then - 

“I love you.” His voice was quiet, but resolute. And this time, you could feel his heart pounding just a little faster. 

You wriggled up his body, planting yourself right at face level - eye to eye, lips to lips. You tenderly cupped his face in your hands, watching as his eyes fluttered shut for just a second before opening again, looking back at you with clear, unguarded eyes. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back, lips trembling the slightest bit with emotion. And this time, when your lips met his - you knew you were home. 

Fin.