#Arrangement: the Third | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biffhofosho · 2 years ago

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Prisoner to Temptation | Chapter One

Fandoms: Monsta X

Genre: Royal AU, Romance, 19th Century period piece

Pairing: Hyungwon x OC

Chapter Word Count: 9.4k

Tropes: Arranged marriage, strangers to spouses to lovers

The Vibe: Lonely prince meets reluctant princess, the typical royal intrigue, period-appropriate writing style, beautiful costumes and lavish historical settings, friends with benefits-adjacent (though it’s more like royals with obligations), slow burn but also loads and loads of smut (like, I mean it, a lot lol) of every kind in between because arranged marriage, jealousy, angst, misunderstandings, confused feelings, falling in love with your husband, HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE FAIRYTALE DAMNIT

Synopsis: Naran has never fit the mold of a princess. She’s brash, disinterested, and nomadic at heart. It is only unlucky circumstance that has cast her as the sole hope of the Moghulikhan empire. With no brothers to secure the realm’s lineage, shaky borders ringing them from all sides, and a sister too young to understand any of that, peace only seems possible through an alliance, but that hasn’t stopped Naran from scheming up a way out. That is, until a handsome prince charming makes her an offer she simply can’t ignore.

A/N: First things first, happy birthday to my beloved Hyungwon. He’s too special and good for this world. He’s a living muse, and watching him work constantly inspires me (in ways it definitely shouldn’t lol).

Anyway, I just cobbled this AU together out of lots of bits and bobs because I can. Really went for a style of writing and dialogue that you might find in your Jane Austens or Emily Brontës, so this may or may not be for you.

Let’s set it somewhere in the early 1800s though I took a lot of liberties with bygone kingdoms (all real at one point or another, though that doesn’t mean this is historically or geographically accurate—I’m just fucking around). In this universe, western and eastern cultures mingle freely. You’ll get the drift. I mean, I’m here for the romance, but I’m also a slut for worldbuilding. Please join me, your resident lost cause, on this time-traveling, bodice-ripping adventure.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12

Naran felt her head drooping with every second that passed with the Viscount LaCroix. At least she’d been trained well enough to blame it on the stuffiness of the hall or the port she’d just downed, but it was becoming clearer by the second that she needed an escape or she was liable to outright fall asleep standing up, and the last thing she needed was to fall into the red-cheeked buffoon’s arms and have him convinced he’d found his fourth wife.

Desperate, Naran scoped out the ballroom looking for a friend to save her, but servants weren’t allowed in except the wait staff and neither were commoners. Even her sister was too young to attend this meat market, for that was what this was—an excuse to haggle wares, only the wares were noble sons and daughters.

At last, her eyes fell on her mother, who was already scowling at her. That scowl only deepened as Naran turned to the old man next to her and bowed lightly.

“Excuse me, your grace, I see my mother is calling for me. Thank you for the… discourse.”

She should have added “delightful" or some other outwardly false adjective in front of the last word, but Naran wasn’t in the mood to play ballroom politics—not that she ever was.

On the way across the room, she snatched another wine from a waiter and downed it, wishing it was kumis instead. She found her mother, Queen Jigme, crouching like a snow leopard in the corner, cunning eyes always vigilant for prey, only now they were narrowed on a very different obstacle.

Though the princess was taller and slighter, more often than not, she was bent from boredom (a trait her father always said made her more grassland reed than girl), and the queen could loom over her with just a few words.

"That was very rude to leave the Viscount hanging like that, child of mine,” the silver-haired woman scolded from behind her own wine glass.

“Wouldn’t it have been ruder to die of tedium in his presence?” Naran challenged without bothering to keep her own voice down. There was no one else in this corner of the ballroom anyway.

"You know, I knew you were going to be the trial of my life when I almost didn’t survive your labor, and here you are, nearly bringing me to my death again. Your grandfather threw this ball in your honor, I’ll remind you.”

Naran rolled her eyes. “Like I could forget. I only heard it every time the carriage hit a pothole the entire fortnight it took to get here.”

“Yes, well, it took many other guests here just as long or longer to arrive, so I won’t hear any more of your complaining.”

“Mother, it’s not like they came here for me. Deda may have told you this ball was for my benefit, but that’s certainly not what he told all these poor royals.”

Her mother pursed her lips, the wrinkles from the many years of sparring with her daughter etched into her face. “It may not have been on the invitations, but none of these people are fools.”

Naran rolled her eyes again toward the Viscount, and her mother smiled before her well-weathered purse returned.

“Very well, most of them aren’t,” the older woman continued. “They have traveled from all across the continent with the express purpose of sizing up rival empires and aligning themselves with ones that are worthy or tactically advantageous. We are here to do the same, Narangerel. Why do you think I married your father, hm? If it weren’t for your grandfather’s meticulous planning, you wouldn’t be here. No one senses an alliance like he does.”

Dread prickled up Naran’s spine the same way sweat did. “Please tell me not the Viscount…”

“Of course not. The First Princess of Moghulikhan should set her sights on someone of far greater importance than a middling pseudo-royal from Limoges.”

“Mother, we’ve been over this—”

“And we’ll go over it as many times as we need to until you understand your role in protecting our kingdom. We are cunning and strategic, Naran. We are survivors. This is how Moghulikhan has endured for centuries.”

“Off the backs of saleable daughters.”

Queen Jigme glared at her. “You are very tiresome, young lady, but do not think you can break my will with tacky jokes and passive aggression. I know what you’re doing because I’ve done it all myself.”

Her mother meant it as a warning, but it came across as one of an entirely different kind.

If her mother was once as free-spirited as Naran fancied herself, then there was no outrunning her fate. She would marry, and she would do it for country, not for herself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” grumbled Naran.

“In body, maybe. The spirit must be coaxed,” the queen volleyed back.

Or broken, Naran thought bitterly as she took another long draft of wine.

The women stood side-by-side for a while, appraising the room. There were lots of marriageable prospects among the crowd—the princess’s grandfather had seen to it—but most were decades too old or so feeble that they spent most of the night observing their options from their chairs. On the other hand, there were some so young that Naran suspected their governesses or caretakers were lurking just outside the hall.

Her future was dimming by the second.

“Come now,” added her mother, “it’s not so bad as all that. I did let you wear your deel instead of a Western dress, a decision I am regretting now that I see you’re the only one in a costume of your homeland.”

“Shouldn’t that please you? I stand out.”

“Yes, though I think it remarks more on your stubbornness than anything else. Even those from Goryeo went Western traditional.”

Naran sighed.

“What about Prince Hyungwon?” Queen Jigme continued with a sly voice that betrayed her.

The princess narrowed her eyes at her mother. “What about him?”

“No matter which way you look at it, he's a better prospect for you than anybody here.”

Against her will, Naran’s eyes slid across the lavishly appointed ballroom to the tall, thin man with long charcoal hair, a beardless face, and an inscrutable expression. There was an air in his posture that made him look richer than anyone else in the room, though part of that no doubt came with the fact that his empire was certainly one of the largest. In reality, though, it was down to the way he wore his suit—jacket unbuttoned, dress shirt open two buttons too deep just the same as his cuffs, and cravat unspooled like he was heading to bed at any moment. None of these other stuffed-shirts would dare to look so relaxed.

Not that she was paying attention of course…

“What on earth would possess you to say that?” the princess snapped to her mother as she polished off her port.

“He’s certainly the handsomest man out there,” observed the queen.

“Oh, and he knows it.”

Again, since Naran definitely hadn’t been watching him all night, she hadn’t picked up on the way the prince chatted with every pretty girl in his vicinity... And she definitely hadn't studied the way his face collapsed into perfect apathy the moment he was ready to move on to more fertile grounds, leaving a string of bereft royals in his wake.

“To say nothing of the fact that his kingdom abuts ours,” the queen continued. “We’re already neighbors.”

“Oh, so he’s obligated to choose Moghulikhan just because we share part of a border? Our lands may be vast, Mother, but half of them are empty desert. We’re not resource-rich like Chalukya or Lotharingia nor do we have the breadth of their armies. Why on earth would Prince Hyungwon ever marry me over Princess Bhataki or Princess Flavia when their empires are twice as wealthy and neither of them openly balks at Court obligations? He won't have to settle for anything less than exactly what he wants. It's not like he has a clock ticking.”

“Sometimes I wonder about you,” Jigme said with a gentle shake of her head. “Clearly, I’ve indulged you far too much. You know nothing of politics, Narangerel. Prince Hyungwon may be a man, but he's also the last of his line. With no other heirs, he will need to provide some for his throne lest he throw his realm into chaos.”

“That may be, but unlike us,” the princess objected, “he can have children at any age.”

“My darling child, a throne may sit on solid ground, but it can be overturned at any moment. With no other heirs behind him, his family line is less and less secure every day. The Chae lineage may be storied, but people will talk. They already are talking. The longer Goryeo hesitates on forging a match, the closer things march toward open season on its reign. Nothing is secure in this life, dear, least of all power.”

“So, what? The prince is here tonight to find a bride?”

“Well, he certainly didn’t travel twice as far as we did for just for caviar.”

Naran glared at her mother, but as annoyed as she was, she couldn’t keep her eyes on her now that her interest had been reluctantly piqued. It had nothing to do with the prince’s looks, of course, but intrigue was intrigue, she told herself. It was only natural.

Prince Hyungwon did not look back. He was too busy feigning attention to the Countess de Bourgh, who was prattling on about her new summer villa, no doubt, as she had to any poor fool who had crossed her path that night. But when Naran could convince her eyes to finally stray from his button mushroom nose and jutting, plump upper lip, she found someone else who seemed to have just as much interest in the young prince’s company as she did.

Seated at the most prominent table in the center of the room was the Emperor of Goryeo himself, the prince’s father, Emperor Gongmin. He was a much smaller man than his son, with a round, flat face and perceptive eyes. It was clear the prince favored his mother’s elegant looks as well as her attention span, as she was lost in her wine glass while the Empress of Wu yammered on beside her.

Queen Jigme smiled and said shrewdly, “You see now, don't you?”

Naran shrugged a shoulder. “They seem like they're having a nice time.”

“Perhaps the empress is enjoying herself, but you know the emperor hasn't eaten so much of a grain of rice tonight. He has eyes on everything.”

“Very well, Mother, I will play your silly games. On whom does the emperor have eyes?”

“I would say there are two frontrunners. The Princess of Champa and the Princess of Dai Viet. Princess Binh is plenty young enough to bear many heirs and from to an exotic kingdom without an heir apparent while Princess Tham is newly widowed, still young, and has only borne two daughters. The Fates would say she is due for a boy. And I have heard the Dai Viet palace is covered in gold while their mountains are said to be filled with precious stones. It would be a good alliance to make.”

“I suppose either one would make a suitable match if it weren't for one problem,” Naran said with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“The prince isn’t interested in either one of them.”

The queen hummed. “What makes you say that, my sun?”

“Princess Binh is far too talkative and he cares little for conversation, and Princess Tham flatters him far too much. It makes him uncomfortable.”

The corner of the queen’s mouth twitched. “Does it now?”

“Not that I've been watching,” Naran added. “It’s just what I’ve heard other guests saying over their wine goblets.”

“Hm. Well, in the end, we both know that doesn't matter, does it, my child? The prince will marry whomever the emperor tells him to marry.”

“I suppose you're right about that, as you’ve been right about nearly everything tonight.”

Queen Jigme nodded, an odd light illuminating the dark wells of her eyes. “How pleased I am to hear you say that because I should like to return to the discussion about the third and best option for the prince’s marriage.”

There was a long pause as understanding simmered between mother and daughter, and slowly, a red aura crept above the collar of Naran’s deel.

“Mother, you cannot be serious!” she snapped, loud enough that a few other nearby royals glanced their way.

The queen hushed her daughter with a pinch to her side and a heavy sneer. Despite the Court decorum her mother otherwise fought to uphold, she gripped both of the princess’s arms and squared her daughter to face her. Jigme’s voice was low but firm as she said, “Naran, this is our one chance at protection from Goryeo’s might. Especially with your father still ill, we are doomed without this union.”

The princess tried to shake the older woman’s grip, but it was relentless. Though she tried to sound cavalier, Naran’s voice wavered as she said, “You’re being dramatic again, Mother.”

“Hardly. Goryeo has been overthrowing kingdom after kingdom. Perhaps you’re too young to remember Ladakh, but no doubt you learned about it in your schooling.”

“I did.”

“So you know what happened to them, to my people,” said the queen. Her voice was clipped and her eyes were tight. “Goryeo took them over in a week. A week, Naran. And they were Moghulikhan’s direct neighbor, the only kingdom left between Goryeo’s might and ours. Now that our lands share a border, I’m sure it won’t be long before that irks Emperor Gongmin. Moghulikhan might be large, but as you pointed out, we don’t have the population Goryeo does. It’s been but thirty years since that takeover, and no doubt the Emperor's hunger for power and country has only amplified.

“Still, he’s a tactician at heart. He knows our army might not be as large as his, but we are fierce and brutal, and our kingdom is like four in one. It would be devastating to the unfamiliar army once they hit, say, the Gobi. But that need never come to pass if our kingdoms unite peacefully.”

The princess rolled her whole head with her eyes. “And I’m supposed to fix that how?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Narangerel. You were raised in a court. You know that alliances are the only way to secure one’s self and one’s vassals, and there’s no alliance stronger than a blood alliance. If Prince Hyungwon selects you as his princess before other arrangements are made, then there’s nothing to worry about any longer. No one would dare trifle with our kingdom with the strength of Goryeo behind us.”

“You’ve just described the worst kind of bully. Why on earth would I want to marry someone like that for all the good looks in the realms? Do you know your daughter at all?”

Jigme rubbed the princess’s arms before she squeezed Naran’s hands. “Indeed, I do, my love. You think I would propose Saran to such a family? Your sister could never conquer them. She’s too sweet and gentle. She’d be swallowed up. But you, my sun, my strength… You have the wit and the courage and the cleverness to make men fear you.”

“So why don’t I just make them so afraid of me they leave us alone entirely?”

“And there’s the wit. Naran, you must learn to look beyond what your eyes can observe the way you trust Altantsetseg on the steppe. Let me be your eagle in this hunt, my love. I know the battlefields better than you do; I’ve lived my entire life on them. Emperor Gongmin may be a shrewd monarch, but Prince Hyungwon is malleable. He is his own man, a man who will one day be king. In the right hands, he will be merciful and kind. In the wrong ones, he will be a foolish puppet. What would you have, child?”

“I would have you talk sense,” Naran quipped. “Through a twist of fate, I may have been born into this world, but it is not my world, Mother. I could never be ‘the right hands.’ I care nothing for the games of idle men. I care only for an open sky and a wind-swept bluff.”

Jigme looked softly at her daughter. She brushed a stray tendril of mahogany hair behind the princess’s ear and said, “Be that as it may, the choice is not yours to make. You will make your way to the prince, and you will introduce yourself with a smile. Once he sees that, everything will fall into place, I’m sure of it. You are very beautiful tonight, my daughter, as always, and never more so when you offer up one of those rare smiles.”

“And what happens when he ignores me as he has every other woman tonight? What of all your schemes?”

The older woman quirked one of her silver brows. “That is an outcome I cannot accept. I am confident I have read the omens right.”

“Mother—”

“Shall I make the introduction?”

“Don’t bother. It will be over before you finish it. Let me embarrass myself alone.”

It went against tradition, but the queen knew better than to argue when she’d already won. “Go now, Naran. The prince is waiting for you.”

With that, Queen Jigme plucked the wine glass from her daughter’s hand and folded back into the ring of elder monarchs surveying the hall from stations along murals of bygone conquests. Even in the perfect silence of the vast grasslands, Naran had never felt so alone.

She was stunned to the point of paralysis. There it was, her future laid out with horrifying clarity. She was expected to pair up and breed like a mare only with far less freedom. It didn’t matter if the stud they’d chosen for her was significantly younger and more agreeable-looking than the rest of the stable—the fences were closing in all around her until, slowly but surely, she would be broken.

From his vantage point across the room at one of the many white-clothed tables, Naran’s grandfather smiled at her as though it was all going according to plan. As if to underscore this, his eyes slid further down the dance floor to the corner, where Chae Hyungwon, Crown Prince of the Goryeo Empire, watched the ruby port inside his goblet twirl like a skirt.

Naran was trembling. She’d faced off with packs of wolves the same as packs of thieves and lived through them, and while the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins was identical, the anxiety swelling her throat was something new, something she’d never felt before.

With a heavy breath, she shuffled inelegantly in her kitten heels across the ballroom floor and tried to call forth her eagle’s fearless spirit.

“Give me strength, Altantsetseg,” she whispered, and she swore she felt the beat of its wings in her gut.

The prince had his back to Naran, which was a thousand times more terrifying than if he’d seen her coming, for now she had to beg for his attention, and the princess hadn’t begged for a thing since she’d been a petulant runt at their chef’s knees, whining for treats after a day out in the grasslands. This was as far as she could get from such whimsies.

Though Naran was tall for a woman, taller even than many of the men here tonight, Hyungwon was a whole head taller than she. His jacket strained against shoulders so broad, they looked like they could rival her eagle’s wingspan, and again, she felt that unusual flutter inside her. The princess had to remind herself quickly that she was in charge of her fate, not her mother and not some handsome stranger who embodied everything she hated about Court.

Naran cleared her throat, but the prince did not turn. She had to get this over with quickly, like landing the mercy blow to wild game, and the simplicity and familiarity of the image spurred her tongue to action. She defaulted to English as she had all night, but if Prince Hyungwon didn’t speak it, all the better. Since she didn’t know a word of his language, she could be gone with a cordial bow and her duty would end.

“It appears I may be the only lady in this ballroom with whom you have not spoken tonight, my lord.”

Prince Hyungwon turned on his heel, and the air rushed out of her lungs. This close, he was arresting. Gone was the aloof gaze he had sported much of the night, replaced instead by keen eyes the color of roasted pine nuts that were just as warm and comforting. The baubles of his cheeks were high with a half-smile, and for a second, Naran thought she was the only person in the room with him.

“Are you jealous?” he said in perfect English and an unexpected flavor of cockiness, and that, more than anything, returned her senses to her.

“Hardly,” the princess retorted. “But others expect an interaction, so I’m obliged to give one for show.”

Hyungwon recoiled, genuine horror in his eyes. “I’m sorry, my lady. I fear the wine has loosened my lips. I meant no offense.”

“And I take none, sire. I am merely telling you that I am here as an emissary of my mother, Queen Consort of the Kingdom of Moghulikhan. She bade me greet you on behalf of our country. I am Princess Narangerel.”

Naran bowed, which Hyungwon echoed with one of his own, and when he came back up, his ears were pink and his grin was sheepish.

“It seems I have not made as good of an impression on the princess as I have on the queen. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lord.”

Hyungwon cocked his head to the side as he studied her. “Really? Because it seems like you’re already looking for a way out of this conversation.”

“Don’t take it personally. I look for a way out of most conversations.”

“Perhaps I should though,” he persisted. “You conversed with the Viscount LaCroix for quite a while.”

Naran’s jaw dropped. He’d noticed that?

“It wasn’t for lack of trying, my lord, I assure you.”

Hyungwon smirked. “Very well then. I am satisfied.”

“I’m so pleased,” she deadpanned before she could stop herself. Thankfully, instead of affronted, the prince looked surprised with the vaguest hint of amusement. As far as torture went, things could have been much worse.

And then they were.

Out of the corner of her eye, Naran caught her mother, who only ever had clear vision when it came to her daughters and what they weren’t doing, edging discreetly closer. Panic set in. If the queen overheard any of this absurd and impolite conversation, she would be mortified and the princess would probably be permanently chaperoned. Who knew what untold horrors would be foisted on her? A shiver ran through Naran at the thought of all the potential obligations she couldn’t escape, and before the bile could rise in her throat, she doubled down on the lesser of two evils.

“Just go along with this, my lord, and everything will be over faster, yes?” she whispered to a very confused prince before she proclaimed much louder, “How handsome His Highness looks this evening! And how well you converse! I’ve never seen such happy manners on a prince before.”

Hyungwon blinked. “What on earth are you—”

Still louder, Naran said, “Your kingdom is very lucky to have such a genial lord at its helm. I see your long travels haven’t fatigued you at all. I trust the palace is to your liking?”

The prince was stunned into silence for a moment before those full lips tightened. “Listen, my lady, I’m not in the mood for—”

“Oh, shut up, and just agree with anything I said, so we can move on,” she hissed.

“Wait, you don’t want to be here?”

“Of course not. And neither do you. Thanks to that scowl, I could tell that from across the ballroom.”

“I thought this sort of thing is what all maidens wanted?”

“‘Maidens,’ huh? Please. To be paraded like ponies at auction in hopes of a high bid? I think not. And what of the other twenty maidens who go home with disappointed hopes of proving valuable to families that only care for their male heirs? We maidens must sit in our rooms wondering what we did wrong and how we could have done better because if we’re not bearing heirs, then we’re just a waste of resources, aren’t we? So tell me again how odious this party is for you—and how elegant your suit looks, my prince! Did you have it custom-tailored or is it a family heirloom?” Naran’s voice switched into a strained soprano as she caught her mother leaning in closer.

Hyungwon stared at the princess in utter confusion, and exasperation was setting in. As low and as sharply as she could manage, she grumbled, "Say something, please."

His eyes flicked to Queen Jigme only to find his father now beside the gray-haired woman, and, at last, he nodded. “Ah, um, yes, it was tailored just for tonight. I’m glad it is to your liking, my lady.”

“Oh, thank God,” the princess mumbled. If she could have wiped her brow, she would have.

“Would you like to dance, Princess Narangerel?”

What! No, no, no!

Her heart was in her throat and her eyes zipped back and forth for a way out though there was none. Hyungwon’s offer had been overheard by the ears that mattered most, and there was no way to refute him without the greatest offense.

“I guess I have to say yes now,” she answered quietly enough that the prince could hear her and her mother could not.

Hyungwon blinked his big brown eyes before he narrowed them. “Did I misunderstand something? That wasn’t what you wanted?”

“No! Now they’ll think you have some sort of interest in me. You haven’t asked anyone else to dance all night. You must fix this, sire.”

“And how am I to do that?”

Naran growled. “Have you never been to a ball before? And my mother thinks I’m clueless! Obviously, you’ll have to ask a few other ladies to dance to throw them off the scent or we’ll be associated with one another from here on out. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Hyungwon admitted, the pinkness back on his ears. “You have me completely bewildered, my lady. All I wanted was to retire to my room for the night.”

“Well, now you can’t. We must dance and you must then dance with others. There’s no getting around it. How can you know so little of Court when you are prince of one of the realms’ greatest empires? Honestly, who raised you?”

Gone were any pretenses for civility, and Naran knew she had overstepped about a hundred rules of polite society, but she was feeling anything but polite.

Unlike her carelessness, the prince raised his glass to his lips, took a long drink, and said coolly, “You’re awfully brash for a woman.”

“And you’re precisely as thick for a man. Now, walk me to the dance floor so we can get this over with.”

The prince offered his hand, and Naran took it because she had no choice. Even so, she jolted at the feel of his hot skin under hers. His hands were smooth and babied and perhaps had never seen a day’s labor, where hers were rough and calloused from handling a bow and knives. She wished she’d worn gloves as her mother had urged.

Together, they waited at the edge of the dance floor alongside a dozen other couples, some married, some courting, but all staring at the unlikely pair. Naran held her head high and straight and tried not to collapse under the weight of so much perception. Neither said a word to the other as they waited awkwardly, hand-in-hand for want of any other option, while the previous dance concluded. The moment it did, Prince Hyungwon gestured for her to take to the floor, and they parted, her hand throbbing as she buried it in the folds of her skirt to dry it off.

Naran didn’t dare look back to her mother, especially knowing the Emperor of Goryeo waited right by her side. She focused, instead, on the billowing folds of the prince’s shirt and the flashes of his glossy chest that peeked through when the tie at his collar pulled taut.

As the orchestra reset for the next dance, the room fell silent save for a babble of whispers as rhythmic as the wind through the reeds. Her grandfather’s ballroom was large and magnificent, yet Naran felt the walls closing in around her, especially when she spied the old man’s sun-beaten, smiling face leaving the conductor’s side.

At last, the music swelled, and much to her horror, she recognized it as a waltz. Naran wasn’t good at the waltz. It had come over from the West, and she had only practiced it a few times before tonight at her grandfather’s behest in the hopes she might impress a Western lord. She didn’t expect it to be familiar to Prince Hyungwon either, but if he was uncomfortable, he masked it well.

She took the first steps toward her partner as he met her half-way. His hand opened, and hers filled it again as required. They met and parted a few times to the gentle melody before joining more permanently side-by-side for the next few bars. Once she’d gotten the flow down well enough that she could keep her feet under her without constant coaxing, the princess’s painful awareness of her predicament returned to her.

“Curse him,” Naran whispered under her breath, but since the prince was at her side, he caught her words.

“Are you cursing me?”

“Soon enough, no doubt,” she said boldly, but he didn’t take her bait. As they split across from each other for a series of inelegant hops that Naran had to meticulously count in her head, she grumbled, “I’m going to embarrass you, sire. I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re lovely.”

“I feel like a fish tossed on land. This is nothing like our traditional dances.”

Hyungwon hummed as his hand lifted hers aloft for her to spin under it. “What are those like?”

“Lively,” she said. “Noisy. Fun. Elegance and restraint have no place in Moghul dances. It’s a celebration, not a funeral.”

“You're a very singular woman, Princess Narangerel.”

She scoffed. “And there's yet another falsehood. There are many women like me, but few who have the luxury having of such a mouth or a mind. If you think all women long to sit at home all day nursing babies and picking out garlands for the next gala, you are well and truly misinformed, my prince, just as not all men think of conquering every surrounding kingdom to increase the size of their manhoods.”

The prince’s hand squeezed a little tighter around her shoulder before they parted for a fresh orbit around one another. “That feels like a very thinly-veiled opinion of someone I might know.”

“I have no idea what you mean, my lord. My god, will this song ever end?”

Hyungwon laughed. “It just started.”

Why wasn’t her brazenness putting him off? This was torture.

Naran growled and kept her focus hard and fast to her feet, which were supposed to be light and fluttery, but that heavy sensation stayed rooted to her stomach. “Is everybody still watching us?”

“I’m afraid so. You can look at me, too, you know,” the prince informed with a smile evident in his voice.

“It’s not a good idea,” the princess insisted. “I don’t want people to get any more of the wrong impression.”

Their toes met and then their hands as they completed the next turn in the dance.

“Which is?”

“That you’re interested in me,” she answered. Naran risked a glance up at his face and instantly regretted it. “It would be helpful if you stopped smiling, sire.”

Another turn, another kiss of their fingertips.

“I can’t help it,” Hyungwon said. “You’re the first entertaining person all night.”

“How can I convince you otherwise?”

The prince’s smile only broadened, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of it, she had no hope of looking at anything else.

“You know, I do know who you are, Princess Narangerel. Your reputation as a spirit-crusher precedes you."

"Ah, is that what they say about me? How delightful. That should be warning enough for you then, yes?”

“No.”

Naran scowled. “Then would you like to know your reputation, my prince?”

“I doubt I’ll like it as much as you like yours.”

“Oh, very true, but since I’m a spirit-crusher, I'll tell you anyway. You, sire, don’t speak until spoken to unless it’s a pretty serving lass with an ample bosom.”

Hyungwon pressed his lips together as his brow knitted. “Is that really what they say?”

“Indeed. Do you disagree with it?”

“I probably should.”

Naran smiled despite her better judgment.

“At least there’s no shortage of bosom on display for you tonight,” she added.

“Unfortunately, it comes with expectations. The serving lasses have none.”

“You’re as frank as I am, my lord.”

Hyungwon looked down at the princess, and there was a fondness in his gaze that she really didn’t trust.

“What a pair we make,” he said softly.

But what Naran lacked in decorum, she made up for with a hunter’s perceptions. Before her, Hyungwon had played the part of a respectful suitor until the amusement of the moment wore off and his true indifferent colors shown through. Granted, he had taken it up to the next level with this dance, but there was no reason to expect any other outcome. At least she could cling to that.

Hyungwon lifted his hand, and again, Naran was obliged to twirl once beneath it. The skirt of her deel flared around her ankles, stirring a breeze up her legs.

“You dance very well, Princess.”

“Your usual company is serving lasses, so I'll take that compliment with a grain of salt.”

The prince laughed, and the sound was so buoyant, her chest leapt with it. And then resentment immediately crept back in.

“I’m glad one of us is enjoying ourselves tonight.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, you know,” Hyungwon replied. “This party is just as much torture for me as it is for you. You don’t know what it’s like to support the weight of an entire kingdom on your shoulders.”

“Shows what His Highness knows. I have no brothers, hence no heirs. I’m Moghulikan’s only hope for stability. If I do not marry well, our line could be overthrown before my sister even comes of age to do what I can not.”

“Then, you are right. I am wrong. We are in the same boat.”

Naran narrowed her eyes at him. “I appreciate your concession, my prince, but perhaps it’s time we stop looking so familiar with one another.”

“Now, that will be difficult.”

Naran cocked her head. “Why is that?”

“Because this is the part where the tempo slows.”

Just then, the music dipped and the dance shifted from arm’s length fleeting touches to a fixed hold. They lined up, hip to hip, the princess facing one way and the prince facing the other. It would have been the best outcome were it not for Hyungwon’s hand curling across her stomach around her waist in a way that hers had to mirror on him, and as he tugged their sides flush, their free hands met overhead to lock them into a pirouette.

Together, they spun like tops across the floor as the final movement wound on for what felt like eternity. Around her, faces blurred, but one thing was clear—everyone in the hall was watching them.

“I’m going to be sick,” Naran confessed.

Hyungwon held her tighter as he assured, “It’s almost over. Just look into my eyes, Princess. It will steady you.”

It did and it didn’t.

Those dark orbs stared down at her, framed by the soft pillows of his lids as he smiled lightly, and it was more dizzying than the constant spinning.

At last, the music concluded to a polite round of applause from the assembly. The other couples had separated to bow to one another, but Hyungwon still held her waist. Naran wriggled her hand free to hold her temples and slow the spinning in her brain.

None of this should have happened. It was just supposed to be a rushed introduction to get her mother off her back and the prince out of the running for Savior of Moghulikhan, yet here Naran was, breathless and antsy and side-by-side with any other princess’s dream catch.

“What do you say to another dance, please, your grace?” asked Prince Hyungwon, his hand hanging mid-air in offer.

“Out of the question,” Naran hissed, her eyes darting to the shadowy faces gawking from the sidelines.

Undeterred, he said, “Would you rather take this discussion into the hall?”

Her stomach dropped. As suggestive as it was dancing two songs back-to-back with the same partner, sneaking away was outright confirmation of an understanding or worse, an illicit relationship, and there was no way Naran could risk that, just as she couldn’t risk abandoning him slack-jawed on the dance floor for the gossipmongers and her very angry mother.

“Fine, but it ends after this. I feel like I’m suffocating.” The princess tugged at the collar of her deel, but it may as well have been a noose tightening around her throat.

The music kicked up, and once again, Naran spotted her grandfather leaving the band’s station. Instead of a rather suggestive waltz, it was a smooth and patient minuet that left far too much time for conversation in between the languid notes.

“Damn it all to hell,” Naran whispered as they circled each other. “You’ll have to dance with at least four other ladies now.”

Her partner stared back at her with a perfectly blank face. “I have no intentions of doing so.”

“Really, Prince Hyungwon, why must you be so obstinate? If you do not, then everyone will presume an understanding has been made between us, which will obligate us to marry. Is that what you really want?”

The prince shrugged. “It’s less loathsome than the thought of marrying any of these other royals.”

Shock took a backseat to outrage as Naran’s eyes bolted to his blank stare. “No, no, no, no, no. Did you ever consider that I do not wish to marry?”

“Am I that repulsive of an option?” he asked, and Naran could hear a hint of hurt in his husky voice that made even her feel a little guilty.

“My prince, it’s not a matter of marrying you. Perhaps I do not wish to marry at all. There’s no glamor in that, contrary to what the fairytales promise. It’s tedious obligation after tedious obligation, and excepting weddings and births, you’re always bound to your stupid castle. If I do not become queen, then I am free to exist as I wish. I can sleep until midday or bathe under a waterfall or stargaze on the open plain if I so desire.”

“And what if I offer you that same freedom with this marriage?”

Naran laughed. “You’re serious? Why on earth would you ever wish for a wife who cares so little for court or you?”

“Maybe because I have no wish to marry either, but as the sole heir to Goryeo, I have no choice. If I don’t decide, things will be decided for me. At least with you, I know I’d have my own freedoms.”

“But I’d still be expected to bear your heirs, sire.”

The implication was inescapable, and they both stiffened in each other’s arms.

Hyungwon nibbled on his bottom lip before he finally nodded. "There’s no getting around that, I suppose.”

“There is not.”

“I take it you never had any desire for children?”

“On the contrary,” Naran replied, “I’d love them, which is why I would never wish for the responsibilities of this life to fall on them.”

Hyungwon hung his head, laden with his own understanding. “We could raise them differently. Just as our marriage would be unconventional and without expectations, we could choose to raise any children we had as such.”

“You surprise me, my prince, and, if I’m honest, it’s more than a little tempting all things considered, but I think we both know that would be impossible. We may be at the height of our realms, but we answer to everyone instead of no one.”

Thin as he was, the prince looked heavy again under the weight of his tremendous burden.

“If I may,” Naran continued as she dipped under his hand for another twirl, “why don’t you dance with Princess Ophelia? She’s a quiet sort of girl from a robust kingdom and would likely leave you your peace while acting like a true queen when the time comes. My mother also thinks Princess Binh might be a good match for you.”

“You’ve talked about me?” Hyungwon said rather hopefully, and Naran swallowed hard. His charms were too pervasive.

“My mother did,” she corrected. “And speaking of, I should get back to her…”

Naran broke her hand from his and started toward the now-aghast Queen Jigme when the prince grabbed her wrist and jerked her back to him. She landed with an oomph in his arms, the sticks pinning up her hair clattering somewhere behind her. Her face was lost in the folds of his shirt and the smell of intoxicating oils like yuja and clove beneath it. She wondered if he’d rubbed them on his own chest or if someone else had had the duty of anointing him.

Her heart hammered though her lungs caught as she hoped against hope that she would fade into him like a shadow until no one in the room noticed her at all. But it was for nothing. The music still played, but it became background noise beneath the murmur of royal bystanders.

Suddenly, Hyungwon’s cheek was in her hair, his mouth finding her ear through her unraveling black tresses.

“Princess Narangerel, my father intends to invade Moghulikhan. Marry me and we can prevent this.”

It was just as Queen Jigme feared, and Hyungwon knew it. Naran was faced now with turning her back on her family and her entire kingdom with full knowledge and selfishness or falling in league with a handsome prince who promised to give her the life she sought anyway. It was no doubt an empty promise, but even if it were, the threat was now real. Knowing what she knew, could she really turn him down?

“Damn you,” she whispered back, her nails digging in through the thin silk of his shirt.

“Is that a yes, princess?”

“Yes,” she seethed.

“Then I will go to my father at once and arrange everything. We shall make the announcement tonight.”

Hyungwon released her and stalked over to his father, ushering him out of the ballroom and leaving the princess red-faced and shaking in a sea of jealous and shocked gawkers. The room whirled, and her stomach lurched. Everything Naran had ever known had just been undone in the span of two songs.

Her mother was at her side in an instant, smoothing her hair and thumbing at the rosy bloom in her daughter’s cheeks.

“Oh, my sun, you’ve made the right decision! I knew you would!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother,” Naran insisted, hoping that her denial would alter reality.

“Did the prince not propose? Did you not say yes?”

“It was a dance. Just a dance.”

“A dance? When Prince Hyungwon has danced with no one but family in years? When his lips were in your hair? Surely, you jest, my child. No, this means everything. You have saved your homeland. Our people will adore you for it. Saran will adore you for it. When she comes of age, there won’t be a royal in all the realms who won’t seek to woo her. She will have her choice of kingdom thanks to your enviable match. It will silence at last the issue of heirs amongst our own people, for Goryeo’s backing will be incentive enough to dissuade usurpers until your sister can bear the next king.”

Naran’s throat was drier than the Gobi. She pinched her eyes shut against the onslaught of cold knowledge relentlessly bombarding her. “That’s just what I want—my little sister having to endure this nonsense.”

“She will not have to, darling! Suitors will come to her. She can marry for love or country.”

“She can have everything I cannot.”

Queen Jigme took her daughter’s face in hand and smiled warmly at her. “Who is to say that you cannot? Duty may bind you, but it doesn’t have to unmake you, dearest. There is something to your prince. When you’ve survived as long as I have in the world, you can see it. Only someone special like you, my Narangerel, can awaken it. Is Prince Hyungwon not handsome?”

Reluctantly, the princess nodded.

“Is he not charming?”

“When he wants to be.”

The queen’s voice dropped hard and low as her grip tightened. “Did he give you a reason to fear him?”

Naran pictured Hyungwon’s soft cinnamon eyes studying her as they twirled across the dance floor, and though her chest tightened at the memory, it wasn’t founded in the same kind of fear she felt when she squared off with a pack of wolves. The princess shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

The queen let out a relieved sigh. “Good, because I would not part with you for all the alliances in the realms in trade for your safety. So, it is only your pride that holds you back?”

“Not pride, Mother. Freedom.”

“Do you respect the prince?”

“I hardly know him.”

Jigme glowered at her. “That has never stopped my daughter from making a snap judgment before.”

Naran didn’t want to say yes. That was the same thing as condoning the whole preposterous arrangement. And yet… It was hard to forget the gentleness in his cheeks and the calmness in his voice as he promised things she knew she shouldn’t dream of any longer.

“I suppose more than I do these other preening fools.”

“Then take heart, my sun. If there is respect, there can be love. You will want for nothing. There will be peace further than your eagle can soar. You have already done more for your kingdom than most rulers can ever hope to do.”

Strangely, Naran felt her heart in her throat. It was yet another promise that seemed impossible to deliver. “That presumes Emperor Gongmin will approve the match…”

Before her mother could even open her mouth to answer, Prince Hyungwon sped across the ballroom faster than she had imagined such a cavalier man ever moving. The entire party was watching as he bowed deeply to Queen Jigme before extending his hand to the princess.

Naran had no choice, she had to take it, and instead of simply holding her hand, he laced his fingers through hers so she had no way to pull away. His skin was hot and sweaty, but so was hers, and at least she could take comfort in the fact that he was as uncomfortable with this unbearable spotlight as she was.

“What’s going on?” she whispered. “Did your father not approve our arrangement?”

Even if the match had never been something she had wanted for herself, it would be even more humiliating to be turned down.

Worryingly, Hyungwon did not answer though he also did not stop pulling her to the head of the hall. There, beneath a fresco of a khan and his warrior bride surveying a battle from a mountain ledge, the prince stopped and tugged Naran close to his side. His hand tightened in hers, and it felt almost like he was using her to keep upright. She didn’t bother to balk because she needed the same.

Heavy footsteps approached from the side, and Naran lifted her eyes. Emperor Gongmin seemed to fill the room like a great balloon, puffing mightier and mightier with each passing second. All eyes had already turned to the front of the hall in anticipation of what the greatest ruler in the East had to say.

The emperor raised his glass to the party and grinned with a hollowness that Naran had yet to find in his son. His voice boomed across the room, even vibrating in the glassware on the tables. “First, I would like to extend my gratitude and appreciation to the mighty Toqu Khan for hosting us all at his beautiful palace this week. For many of us, this may be the only time we visit Kipchak, but it will remain forever in our hearts. It has been many long years since I have had the privilege of visiting, but I am happy to report this time has added a fondness for this charming land that I might never have anticipated, because it is thanks to the great Khan’s generosity that I can announce to all the realms that my son, Crown Prince Hyungwon of Goryeo, has finally found his future bride.”

A collective gasp filled the hall to its rafters, and Naran fought to hide her embarrassing tremble. As the spectators tightened ranks, she scanned the rainbow of faces to find her mother and grandfather watching with proud smiles. If they were happy, so too must she try to be. While she couldn’t bear to look at the man beside her, the princess worked hard to cobble some kind of smile together for them.

Emperor Gongmin continued, “Today, I am pleased to announce the joyful union of the Empire of Goryeo to the Kingdom of Moghulikhan. Henceforth, Princess Narangerel will move to Namgyeong to be with her new family, where the happy couple will marry before the whole empire. Please join me in wishing them all possible happiness.”

Applause thundered around them. For as many sycophants and saccharine grins as there were, there were just as many barely concealed scowls and glares, particularly a few other princesses Naran had spied talking up the prince earlier.

“To their many heirs!” shouted someone in the crowd, which was followed by cheers and more applause.

Her grandfather signaled for the band to kick back up as small glasses of clear liquor made their way suspiciously quickly through the ballroom, almost as though they’d been waiting for just such an announcement. The moment the tray appeared to her, Naran shook off Hyungwon’s hand to grab two glasses and down them with lightning speed before the burn of the alcohol could even sear her tongue. Beside her, her husband-to-be eyed her as he nursed his lone glass.

No sooner were the glasses emptied than the emperor had extended his hand to his future daughter-in-law. “Would you honor your new father with a dance, Princess?”

Without so much as the bliss of drunkenness, her body churned and her mind swam as Emperor Gongmin led Naran to the edge of the dance floor and dove right in mid-promenade. She could barely keep her feet under her as they waltzed through the line of raucous partygoers.

“What an enviable match you have made for yourself, Princess Naran,” the emperor observed as they ducked through a tunnel of hands.

“Yes, Your Highness,” she said tightly.

They emerged at the end of the tunnel only to add to it by joining their hands above them for the next dancers. Naran tried to keep her attention on the dance, but the beady eyes of the emperor were relentlessly demanding, and she knew in her bones she needed to rise to his challenge. She met his gaze head on, and the corner of his mouth quirked, pulling a crow’s foot at the edge of his cheek.

“I confess I have never seen my son so interested in his future,” Gongmin added, “which is why I approved the match without first meeting you. He appears genuinely pleased.”

“I am happy to hear so.”

They paired off again for a series of turns about the dance floor, which gave the emperor a chance to soften his voice further. “But I do not have the luxury of being so easy. My son has always been as prone to whimsy as he is to idleness, and this is all very sudden.”

Now, the alcohol was kicking in, mercifully giving Naran the strength she needed in the face of the Lord of the East. “Is that not how most matches are made, Your Highness?”

“Indeed they are, but I’m sure you can appreciate my desire to protect my empire.”

“Excuse my candor, sire, but I don’t believe anyone worries about the future of Goryeo.”

Emperor Gongmin’s hand squeezed hers unexpectedly tightly. “I do, Princess Narangerel, I do. So long as you commit to your new homeland and deliver the promised heirs, we will get along perfectly well. Now, I suggest you two revel in tonight’s festivities for as long as they’re offered. Goryeo always remembers to show its deep appreciation to its hosts, especially when they’re now family.”

The soon-to-be in-laws finished out the last few bars of the dance before they bowed to one another. As the emperor came up, he added with a softer, if disingenuous, smile, “You will make some very pretty children.”

With nothing else to say, Naran bowed again.

As Gongmin stepped aside for his son, he looked at the pair and said, “Enjoy your party, you two.”

Prince Hyungwon joined Naran’s side and offered her the next dance, but she shook her head. “I’m too dizzy. I mean it.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“I would like to shoot you with an arrow,” she snapped though she took a chair along the wall and let her head rest against the tapestry there as she steadied her heart. “I hope you're happy.”

Hyungwon raised an eyebrow, “About the arrow? Not so much, but otherwise, I am, and so should you be.”

“You just blackmailed me into marriage. Happiness is the last thing from my mind.”

“You’re not the least bit glad to have settled on someone who will at least respect your independence, princess?”

Under the swell of the violin, Naran scoffed. “If you respected my independence, you would have left me to my plan of faking a deadly illness until my sister came of age. Then I could miraculously recover only to live my life as a spinster roaming the plains and hunting with my eagle.”

“You have a very elaborate imagination, my lady,” he said teasingly.

“It’s hardly imagination, my lord. I was set to contract dropsy this very evening.”

Hyungwon laughed. “You don’t contract dropsy; you develop it. Do not worry, the libraries in Changdeokgung are second to none, and they will all be at the princess’s disposal. You can pretend to contract all the illnesses you want when we arrive.”

Naran seethed. Thankfully, the folds of her dress concealed her fists.

“For all that’s just occurred, I am glad I met you, Princess,” said the prince as the orchestra wound down, and the tension left her hands at once. There was a tenderness in his voice that Naran almost let herself mistake as genuine affection, but either way, it made her breath catch. “This is the first time in my whole life I haven’t dreaded my future.”

He was being kind, and maybe it was even working were it not for the fact that it was the first time in Naran’s life that she did dread hers.

“I meant what I said,” Hyungwon continued. “I mean to give you every independence I can in our marriage. We don’t have to love each other so long as we respect each other, and if we can do that, maybe we can be something great for our people—and maybe even each other.”

The prince looked down at her, that beautiful smile showcasing brilliant teeth and lush lips. Naran longed to trust such beauty, but she knew those things were fleeting. Once the chandeliers had been snuffed, the silverware put away, and the spectators dispatched, only cold reality would encroach on them, and she wondered what kind of man her husband would truly be then.

#monsta x smut #multichapter #hyungwon smut #royal au #arranged marriage #romance #slow burn #bodice ripper #third person #prisoner to temptation

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