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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years ago

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The Modern Wife

HAN JISUNG REGENCY AU

A/n: Literally I’ve been so obsessed with the idea of this I had to mess up my schedule and write this. Also, omg will you look at that edit job??? I have never used photoshop in my life and look at that!!! Also special shoutout to Celi @poeticallyspaghetti for helping me so much with this

See how many Austen quotes you can spot!

Warnings: Slight cursing, mention of violence

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: Miss Y/n L/n is the talk of the town. She is one of four gorgeous sisters. Her father is a successful politician who travels frequently back and forth to London. She is beautiful, poised, and absolutely unobtainable. Every man in town had been asking for her hand, all except a certain Colonel. Things are turned upside down when Miss L/n is forced into an engagement.

Genre: history!au, enemies to lovers!au, regency!au, historical!au, pride, and prejudice!au

“OW! Not so tight, Harry!” I screamed holding onto my bedposts as my maid and friend, Harriet pulled the laces tight on my corset. “Harry, are you trying to kill me?” I said with a laugh. The small thin plank of wood in the boning pressed hard against my chest and pushed up my breasts as high as they would go for no reason other than to put them on display.

Ironic that it was unseemly to show my ankle but my cleavage could parade about the world openly. For the next forty minutes, Harriet proceeded to help me get dressed. The pale yellow frock complimented my skin nicely. Harriet always knew what I looked best in. She sat me down at my vanity while she fixed my hair, untwisted the fabric that tied my curls. Before she could finish my eyes glimpsed movement outside my window.

“Cecilia!”

Bolting up from the chair I ran down the hall, fabric billowing behind me. I rushed passed several servants as I made my way down the sunlit passageway. “Miss Y/n,” our butler, Mr. Carson, exclaimed as I nearly ran him over. Thankfully he did not drop the glassware on his tray. “I’m sorry, Carson!” “Don’t worry about it, my lady.”

With a bright smile, I burst through the large entryway doors and was met by a gracious morning breeze, A carriage had pulled up in the driveway and a woman a few years older than me was exiting the cab with the help of a footman.

“Cecilia! You’re home!”

“Y/n!”

Wrapping my arms around my elder sister I gave her the biggest hug imaginable. The sound of our laughter could most likely be heard from anywhere on the grounds. I was once again reunited with my sister. She had not been gone but a few months since her last visit, but it felt like ages to me.

“I should hope I get the same welcoming as my wife,” Turning away, I saw my sister’s husband stepping out of the carriage, a kind smile on his face. “Of course, Chan. I could never forget my brother in law.” He gently gave me a hug before returning me back to my sister.

“Is father home?” I shook my head, leading my sister arm in arm into the house. “No, he has yet to return from London.” She scoffed and held my hand tighter. “But, it is the beginning of spring! How can he miss your birthday?” Carson greeted Cecilia and Chan with a warm welcome before we continued to the parlor.

“Do not worry. Papa said he would return in the next few days in time for the ball on Saturday. Tomorrow we girls will simply have to celebrate my nineteenth birthday together.” Chan left us to talk while he helped tried to help Carson and the footmen with the bags, much to Carson’s displeasure. Chan never could really get used to having servants do things for him.

“Where are Charlotte and Emma?” Cecilia was referring to our two younger sisters. Charlotte had turned sixteen this year and little Emma was now ten. “They are in lessons right now. Papa is still positively adamant we are all educated to the highest degree.” “Of course, he is.”

My sister filled me in on everything that had happened in Dover in the past few months. She and Chan had moved there after they got married, much against father’s will. “Oh, Chan got a letter before we left. He said the Colonel was in London and met up with father. He might come back to Surrey for the spring.”

Cecilia laughed as disdain took over my face. “Wonderful. There go my hopes of a lovely spring.” “He isn’t that bad, Y/n.” The Colonel was around Cecilia’s age, in his very early twenties. He was the one who introduced Chan to Cecilia. Chan had served in his infantry and had grown quite close to the young officer.

Father adored the Colonel. Anytime the Colonel returned to Surrey, Papa would insist on us inviting him to our residence. Everyone loved the Colonel. He was a brave man who had done his country proud in the war, taking over his father’s position in the midst of battle after he tragically perished. There was just something about him that made me hate him. He walked around like he was entitled to everything around him.

“Does that mean he’ll be returning with father?” Cecilia nodded as her husband entered the room. “Who?” Chan asked sitting across from us. “Colonel Han,” Chan nodded with a soft smile on his face, adjusting his jacket. “I assume so. Miss Y/n why are you asking about him? If my memory serves me correctly, the last time he was here you called him ‘Death’s head on a broomstick’,”

“Well, it was rightly deserved. I’m simply asking because I would like to know when to board up Whitewater so that he simply can’t get in.”

Cecilia’s bright blue eyes crinkled as she laughed. Running footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. In raced two girls who practically jumped on Cecilia. “Cecilia, we missed you!” Emma sang in her soft voice. Charlotte went and gave Chan a gentle hug as well.

The next day we celebrated my birthday. Chan and Cecilia got me a lovely gift, a gorgeous leather-bound sketchbook. I knew there was no way they could possibly afford something of such quality, but Cecilia insisted I take it. Carson and the staff celebrated with us making and sharing a beautiful cake. The next two days went by quickly. Chan worked on his music, the girls continued their studies, and Cecilia and I spent the time walking the grounds and gossiping about anything and everything, with Harriet often joining us

On Thursday afternoon, Charlotte and I were strolling near the banks of the creek, for which our estate was named. The clear water quickly rushed along making almost a soft song with the wind in the trees. Soon, we began to grow tired so we headed back to Whitewater.

As we reached the estate, my eyes were drawn to a carriage and a horse stationed outside. No one was expecting visitors so it must mean father was home. Charlotte and I raced into the house, grins filling our faces.

“Papa! Are you home?” I called out. Charlotte heard voices in the parlor, so we both ventured into the sitting room. “There are the rest of my beautiful daughters!” He exclaimed, getting up and wrapping his arms around us. It felt so good to have my father’s arms wrapped around me again. His familiar smell of burning wood and lavender.

He pulled away and kissed each of our cheeks. “Girls, you remember Colonel Han Jisung.” I tried to hide the grimace on my face but failed. Of course. That’s whose horse was out front. My eyes fell on the man standing near the window. He wore a dark navy overcoat and pristine black boots. While his somewhat smaller and shorter than some of the other military men I had met in the past, there was no doubt about the way he commanded the room. His shaggy brown hair was tousled from the ride back to Surrey.

His dark eyes were hidden as he bowed and took Charlotte’s hand. A proper way to greet a lady. “Yes, unfortunately, I do remember,” I said rolling my eyes. “Believe me, feelings are the same Miss L/n.” The Colonel said giving me a curt bow. Rolling my eyes, I sat down next to Cecilia, who nudged me, giving me a look.

“Papa, how was London?” Charlotte asked happily. Father smiled and sat back down near the fireplace. Mr. Han remained standing near where Chan was sitting. “Perfectly fine. Everything is well. It seems Napoleon’s advances in England have stopped for the time being. Also, I met quite an intriguing man and invited him to have dinner with us this evening.”

“Is he handsome, Father?” Charlotte asked. “Charlotte, do not ask such things.” Cecilia scolded, gently pushing our sister back in her seat. “I should think so. Colonel, you are welcome to join us for supper as well.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You do most days anyway,” I muttered under my breath.

Ignoring the look he sent my way I turned back to father. “Nonsense! You shall join us!” The hour seemed to drag on. Father and Mr.Han seemed to only talk about the war. Papa only paused to ask Cecilia and Chan about Dover and Chan’s music. To be fair he only asked because Cecilia forced him to be civil with Chan about his work.

Soon, The Colonel decided he should return to his estate and unpack his things. “Thank you for your time. The visit was lovely.” He said graciously. Giving everyone a short goodbye, he mounted his horse and made the travel to Ruxfield Manor a few miles to the west of Whitewater.

“That was an eventful visit,” Cecilia said wrapping her arm in mine.

“It was a delightful visit-perfect in being much too short.”

She laughed at my comment as the two of us climbed the stairs to get ready for dinner in a few hours. Harriet helped me change for dinner and pinned up my hair leaving a few twisting strands loose framing my face. “Carson told me your father and his guests are already in the sitting room,” I sighed picking up a handheld mirror as she clasped a necklace around my neck.

“Well, then we should join them.” I stood up, smoothing the dark green fabric of the dress Harriet had picked out. As I exited my bedroom, the door next to me opened as well to reveal my sister and her husband dressed for dinner. As we approached the parlor, Carson opened the door and announced us.

“Miss Y/n and Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

All heads turned towards us as we entered the room. Two men stood up at the announcement. One was the Colonel, purely out of respect for the women of the household. His eyes never even moved to the door. The other man wore a dark almost velvet-like coat and he carried himself with high prestige.

He had deep brown eyes and sharp features. “My darling girls,” Father exclaimed before setting down his glass of sherry. He came and kissed both of our cheeks. “Father,” I said, latching onto his arm. He led us over to the men and our sisters.

“Mr. Han,” I said trying not to roll my eyes. He gave me a curt nod and then returned to his seat. “Y/n play nice,” Papa said jokingly. “I am, Papa!”

“Miss Y/n,” The other man said bowing before me. I couldn’t help but give him a questioning look as he took my hand and placed a soft and chaste kiss on my skin. “Oh, and to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Angel, this is Mr. Lee. He is a barrister in London. Minho, this is my second eldest daughter.” Mr. Lee stood up straight and looked me over with a gentle, but mischievous smile. “The pleasure is all mine. Your father has told me so much about you.”

“Oh has he now! All good things I hope!”

“You can you tell the difference?” The Colonel mumbled, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh please, you are hardly agreeable yourself.”

“I do not wish people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of being forced into casual pleasantries.”

Thankfully, Carson entered the room, saving the Colonel and myself from getting into yet another altercation. “Dinner is ready to be served in the dining room.” Mr. Han scoffed when Minho bowed once again and offered me his arm. The eight of us ventured into the dining room where our new light bulbs brightened up the space from the ceiling. Father was obsessed with every new invention.

Papa took his place at the head of the table, the girls on either side of him. Cecilia sat across from her husband and the Colonel was seated next to her and across from me. Mr. Lee was seated at the other end of the table.

Polite conversation was heard throughout dinner. The girls discussed their studies with father, who then bragged about our education to Mr. Lee. Dinner was lovely as always. Mr. Lee was beyond courteous and thanked Carson and the staff for the meal. We engaged in polite conversation. Mr. Lee seemed to pride himself in small talk because the conversation never got any bigger. “You know green is my favorite color. It is almost as if you wore that dress to see me smile.”

To be frank he was quite boring. He seemed no different than the other men I had met except for the fact he seemed fascinated by the cats on his estate. Cecilia sent me a pitiful glance and I did my best to hide my expression from Father.

“Doori is just so mischievous. And Soongi! You would love Soongi!” Cecilia stifled a laugh as I downed the rest of the wine in my glass. I was too preoccupied forcing the alcohol down my throat that I didn’t notice Mr. Han’s soft laughter at my struggle with Mr. Lee.

“Since we are all here and getting along so well, I would like to say something,” Father announced to the room. Carson ushered the footmen out of the room and back to the kitchen before turning back to Father at full attention. Every eye at the table was on Papa.

“After much discussion and thought, I have decided that it is time for Y/n to be married.”

All eyes turned to me. I froze and looked around the table. Excuse me? When did my father talk to me about this? He was just marrying me off to some random noble?

“Mr. Lee and I have agreed. We would like to announce an engagement by the end of the summer.”

This time all eyes turned to Mr. Lee at the other end of the table. “What?” Cecilia says breaking the silence that had lasted for much too long. I could do nothing but stare at the table. There were too many emotions flying around and none of them were particularly good let alone ladylike. Everyone, even the Colonel looked between my father and Mr. Lee with widened eyes. Chan watched his wife struggling to comprehend my fate. The girls stared at me looking for an answer. I felt the Colonel’s stare like a weight, when I looked up he was looking anywhere except my face. He let out a hefty sigh with an emotionless expression as he soon became fascinated with the chandelier.

“Did you think to ask me how I felt?” Papa looked at me, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “I didn’t think you would much care,” All of my sisters seemed shocked at his words. Father had always been so set on us making our own decisions. He always wanted us to be happy, especially after our mother had passed.

“Just because Cecilia decided she did not want to marry a noble doesn’t mean you can pass this onto me!” Cecilia looked down at her plate. It was no secret that Papa was outraged at her marriage to Chan. “This has nothing to do with your sister.”

“You are sending me away! Why not just make this punishment even worse? Send me off with the Colonel, make my life completely miserable!”

“Y/n L/n!” Father yelled standing up.

“Father you are at fault here too,” Cecilia said standing up. She rushed over and led me out of the room and up the stairs. When Harriet saw us down the hall she rushed to us and opened the door to my bedroom. “Did you hear, Harry?” You looked at the girl who sadly nodded. Of course, she had heard. People in France had heard the argument between me and Papa. Cecilia helped Harriet calm me down and change before placing a kiss on my forehead and leaving to confer with her husband. Slowly I slipped into a deep sleep hoping to forget the events of this night.

The next afternoon my sister and I strolled through the lanes of Surrey on our way to the dress shop. Cecilia had convinced me to come out and get a new dress for the ball tomorrow night with her. Despite my protests, she and Harriet dragged me out of bed and helped slip by my father’s study and into town.

I had to admit, I was thankful to be away from Whitewater. Walking into the dress shop with my sister on my arm felt freeing. Like I wasn’t about to be engaged to a man I had absolutely no interest in.

Breathing in the smell of the wood and the fabrics put a smile on my face. Cecilia ran over to the rolls of blue fabric. I had missed coming to the seamstress with my older sister. In Dover Chan and Cecilia didn’t have enough money to get a new dress more than once or twice a year, so Cecilia was thrilled to come with me.

“What color do you think you would like?” Cecilia shouted from over her shoulder, pulling out a dress with baby blue fabric and white lace. I shrugged and sorted through the different dresses. “I will wear anything but green. Minho would not stop talking about how I wore his favorite color at dinner.” Cecilia laughed as I brushed passed a light green ensemble without hesitation.

“Why don’t we send you in black since it is going to be your funeral anyway,” Cecilia said throwing a black frock at me. I laughed and returned the dress to the seamstress. “Y/n, what about this?” She handed me a gorgeous red dress that was embroidered with pearls and gold thread.

“I have not worn red since we were little girls. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” The seamstress helped us try on the dresses before we paid for them and changed back. Cecilia laughed as I recounted the conversation with Mr. Lee as we walked out of the shop. I felt uneasy. Like something was off. Looking around I saw several young men from the town walking about and standing near shops but they all seemed to be looking anywhere but me, which was very abnormal.

“Do you think they heard about the engagement? It isn’t even official yet!” Cecilia said, reading my mind. An exasperated sigh left my chest. “Nor will it be. I will marry Lee Minho over my dead body.”

“Oh, Miss Y/n!” a voice called out from across the street.

Looking for the source of the deep voice I found Lee Felix, Colonel Han’s aide. And of course, next to him, was Colonel Han Jisung himself. My sister laughed as the Colonel and I both grimaced. Despite the second protests of the day, Cecilia dragged me over to greet the two soldiers.

Han and Felix gave the two of us military level bows and Felix greeted us happily. “I see you two ladies are enjoying today’s fine weather.” Mr. Han said looking around at the scenery, his hands behind his back and his posture incredibly straight. ��Yes, Y/n and I were out shopping for an ensemble for the ball tomorrow.”

Felix’s grin grew three times larger. “I see that!” He said pointing to the folded dresses in our arms. “Oh Colonel, Miss Y/n picked out a red dress! What a coincidence!” Han spared me and the dress in my arms a glance before scoffing and looking at Felix. “What is a coincidence? Do tell,” I said, a smirk falling on my lips. “Jisung was just saying how gorgeous the red roses were at Ruxfield.”

“Ow-” Cecilia nudged my stomach with an innocent grin on her sweet oval face. “Y/n just adores roses! She was sketching them in the garden, just the other day.” Cecilia’s blue eyes sparkled as she nudged me once again. What was she getting at? They were just flowers.

The Colonel looked up at my words, his eyes slightly widening. He quickly recovered and trained his eyes on the ground. “Well, Felix and I have much to attend to. I am sure we shall meet again tomorrow night.” I rolled my eyes as Han mounted his horse, Felix following close behind.

“Come, we must prepare for tomorrow night, given this new information!”

“Cecilia! What new information? Stop pulling on my arm!”

The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the Hall. My father the girls and I were all in one cab, while Chan and Cecilia rode in a separate carriage. A footman opened the door and helped me down from the cab. He gently took each of my sisters’ hands as they exited as well. The music swelled as we entered the Hall with our father in front of us.

Emma quickly ran off to the table filled with sweets and hour devours, and Charlotte was towed away by her friends. “Miss L/n!” Turning, I saw Mr. Lee pushing his way through the crowd. Wonderful. The last person I wanted to see. Like a leech, Mr. Lee latched himself onto my arm. “Are you quite good at dancing, Miss L/n? I fancy myself quite the dancer. They do all the latest court dances in London you see.”

“If you would excuse me, Mr. Lee, I am quite parched,” I said interrupting the never ending stream of words. “Yes, quite alright. I shall miss every second you are parted from me!” Minho said placing a kiss on my hand. Begrudgingly, I plastered a smile on my face and maneuvered my way through the crowd.

Spotting my sister’s golden brown hair, I moved through the flood of people. Her beautiful baby blue dress stood out against the dark colored suits and dresses around her. She stood next to her husband and another man. “Cecilia, thank goodness.” I heaved out in a sigh. “My dear sister, you look ravishing! Don’t you think so, Mr. Han?” Turning I saw The Colonel dressed in fine navy blue. His eyes drunk me in with a disenchanted expression.

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humor at the present to give consequence to young ladies with such ‘modern’ attributes.”

Only to uphold my social presence and reputation did I refrain from slapping him. How could he say something so ghastly right to my face. Before I could fire back Chan interrupted, questioning his friend. “Han, do you plan on joining in the festivities? I certainly plan on bringing my adoring Cecilia onto the dance floor tonight. There is absolutely nothing like dancing after all. It is one of the first refinements of a polished society.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and placing his hands behind his back in a seemingly military sense.

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.” “Not every savage-” Cecilia ventured. “I assure you, Mrs. Bang. Every savage can. Even damn Napoleon, so no I do not think I shall partake in the such an adolescent event.”

The urge to shove his head up his ass grew stronger within me by the second, but I don’t think anything would be able to move past the gargantuan log shoved up there already. “Well, my dearest, would you accompany me onto the dance floor.” Chan said with a bright smile, offering a hand to his wife. Her lace gloved hand slid into his with a smile. Just as they were leaving a voice called out over the sea of guests.

“Miss L/n! Where are you my love? Miss Y/n?” My eyes widened as I saw Minho’s head bobbing through the crowd. “Ah! Miss Y/n! There you are!” He said pointing in my direction.

“Oh lord help me. Quick!” Without thinking I grabbed the nearest coat sleeve and pulled the man out onto the dance floor, a new dance beginning. “What in all hell?” He exclaimed, eyes turning to saucers.

A sigh of relief left my lips as Minho walked right passed my previous location, still looking for me. Music swelled and the couples around me started dancing so I joined in with my partner. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fell on Mr. Han standing in front of me, gently holding my hand and bowing. I curtsied to him and focused on looking for Mr. Lee in the crowd. Hopefully he wasn’t too close. Absentmindedly I followed the steps of the dance, my palm pressing lightly against the Colonel’s as we moved through the steps and turns of the dance.

Halfway through the song, my eyes followed Mr. Lee as he searched for me into another room. This time a sigh of relief escaped as my focus turned back to the dance. I then became very aware of Mr. Han’s hand on my waist. “Mr. Han, I didn’t realize you could dance.” I jested a smirk playing on my lips. His face remained the same but there was something about his eyes that was different.

“Miss L/n, I said any savage can dance. I am not excluded.”

I was left without a retort. I simply stared at him as he circled and came behind me, one hand on my waist, the other gently holding my outstretched hand. The feeling of his chest against my shoulder was unfamiliar but somehow inviting. He smelled like gun powder and old books. My eyes couldn’t seem to break away from his as we turned and moved with the music.

The entire world seemed to dissolve away and all I could see was how he was looking at me. How he was holding me gently and cautiously, as if I was a butterfly in his palm. He had a softness in his eyes I had never seen before. The kind that showed a tortured past. Had he always been this handsome?

Somehow I had never noticed the smooth lines of his face. The soft curve of his lips. The sharp angle of his jaw and the color of his warm tan skin from being in the sun on the battlefield. I had been completely oblivious. I was too stubborn to see the honorable man in front of me. I was even unkind to him on so many occasions yet he looked at me with such a hidden admiration.

Our movements came to a stop and the Colonel stayed by my side, my hand still resting gently over his. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his stare.

“Miss Y/n,” A voice called. Everyone was looking at me. Looking at us. Confusion and suggestion plastered on their faces. Suddenly the Colonel’s hands removed themselves he moved a good distance away from me.

“Next time you would like to hide from your fiancee, use someone else as a shield. I would much rather not be involved in the manner.”

With a sharp, curt bow the Colonel excused himself and rushed off, disappearing into the bustling and whispering crowd. The gossip seemed to stop when Emma ran up to me, her big bright eyes sparkling. Leaving the moment between myself and Mr. Han behind, I danced with my sisters the rest of the night and did my best to fend off my soon to be fiancee.

Hours later the evening drew to a close. Emma was already asleep and had returned to Whitewater with father a few hours earlier in our carriage. Charlotte and I walked out of the Hall our arms linked and laughing about Lady Moss’s hair piece. “Can you believe it?” Lottie laughed out of breath.

A yell from the street pulled our attention. “Your master stepped over the line!” A huge crowd had surrounded two very young men near the road. A fight had broke out between two footmen. I winced seeing a blow land on the smaller one’s face and another to his cut. My eyes widened when I caught a glimpse of his face. It was Felix. Colonel Han’s aide.

“Lottie, go find Chan and Cecilia.” Nodding, she ran back into the hall to find our sister. I pushed my way through the crowd trying to see what was going on. Felix was doing his best to hold his ground against the other boy. It looked like Minho’s steward, Seungmin. “I have no control over what the Colonel does. You’re crazy!” Felix said blocking another swing.

“Hey! Break it up! Stop this juvenile combat!” A voice boomed. Han himself pushed through the crowd and plowed through Seungmin, a hand clutching the collar of the boys shirt. “You do not touch him. If your quarrel is with me then face me so. Do not be a coward and go after my aide.” There was a fire in his eyes and Seungmin looked terrified. The power Han exuded would frighten any man.

Seungmin, regaining his composure, threw a punch at the Colonel, landing on his jaw. While he seemed mostly unaffected, Seungmin took the opportunity to wriggle out of Jisung’s tight grasp. Han scoffed, and threw of his coat, rolling up his sleeves as well. “You will certainly regret doing that.” The crowd cheered as Han took a strike. His slim form allowed him to move with agility and strike with force. It was clear that Seungmin was done for.

Another person burst through the crowd as Han threw Seungmin off of him. Minho caught his steward, pulling him up by the arm. He took Seungmin’s cheek in his hand and examined the boy’s beaten face, before handing him off to another footman. His glare then targeted the Colonel who stood out of breath and dark brown hair tousled.

“How dare you assault my boy?” Minho screamed, pointing a finger at Mr. Han. “Do not jump to assumptions, my friend. Your boy att-” “First you try to seduce my fiancee in front of the entire town- then you assault my aide!” Han let out a breathy laugh before pointing at himself. “Me? You think I would ever be interested in the a woman such as Miss L/n?” His finger moved to point at me, but my glare in his direction was ignored.

“Your man attacked mine first! It is you who needs to apologize! I will not have my staff humiliated and beaten by scum like you or your servants.” Han said beginning to get an almost erratic look in his eyes. “That’s it,” Minho said throwing his coat onto the ground. Without hesitation he leaped into the fight. The crowd cheered them on as I watched in horror.

“Stop! Stop this right now!” I screamed, but no one listened. Mr. Lee’s fist connected with Han’s temple, making his eyes go dark for a moment, before returning. Mr. Lee took the opportunity to throw Han over his shoulder and onto the ground before my feet.

“Mr. Lee, stop right this instant! Both of you! There is no use fighting over me! this is complete nonsense.” Mr. Han’s eyes rolled over to me as he sat up. He winced as he moved to stand up. It took all of my power not to break his stare.

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn about you.”

Why did his words wound me? The hurt must have shown on my face for a brief moment because once again his eyes softened. Before he could say something Mr. Lee took a cheap shot, his fist flying across Han’s cheek. My eyes did not fail to miss the drops of blood that landed on the dirt. Han wasted no time in fighting back.

“ENOUGH!” I screamed. Reputation be damned. I was finished. I had enough. Storming up, with all my strength I pushed the men apart. The two seemed insistent on continuing the brawl. The only thing stopping the Colonel from destroying Mr. Lee was my hands pushing against his shoulders. “You know nothing about me!” My loathsome future fiancee shouted.

“You are only trying to buy her from her father; like she is some prize!” Han sneered. “She is not some timepiece or your stupid pet!” Hearing a yell from Mr. Lee I turned to stop him only to feel a strike against my head. My vision started to blur and my head started to spin before I felt myself fall to the ground.

Every person froze. Mr. Lee and the Colonel watched in horror as I collapsed to the ground barely conscious. Not a second later Chan burst through the crowd with Cecilia in tow, breaking up the fight. She gasped seeing my body on the ground. Quickly she rushed to my side and cradled my head in her lap.

“Quick! Someone help!” Felix, still recovering from his beating, rushed over without hesitating. With some struggle, he got my partially limp body in his arms as Cecilia led him to where our carriage should have been. Han seemed to snap out of his shock, and he rushed to Felix’s side. “Mr. L/n took their carriage. Felix, we’ll go in ours.” Nodding, Felix turned and rushed to the Colonel’s cab and gently placed me on the seat. Cecilia placed my head in her lap as Han jumped into the cab with us, worry painted all over his face.

Felix jumped up into the coach’s seat. Han pounded on the carriage wall and screamed for Felix to go. “Felix, hurry! To Whitewater. Take the back road it’s faster!” Han prayed that they could return to my estate fast enough to call a doctor. When the carriage pulled to a stop, the Colonel took me from Cecilia’s lap and held me in his arms, letting my head roll onto his chest.

“Into the house! Carson! Carson, call the physician!”

Mr. Han carried me up the steps of the porch and impatiently yelled at Felix to hold the door. The poor boy rushed up and let Han carry me through the doorway. Han cautiously handed my semi-conscious body over to Carson. His brow furrowed, concern flooding his features as he watched my loving staff rush to my aid. Carson placed me gently on a sofa and Cecilia carefully undid the tight curls in my hair so my head had somewhat less pain.

Han could do nothing but stand off to the side watching in distress. “Miss Bang...please let me offer my assistance-”

“You have done enough,”

Cecilia did not mean her words to come out as harsh as they did. He knew that. He scolded himself at his thoughts. ‘If only Y/n had not gotten in the way.’ ‘Lee Minho will pay for what he has done.’ A touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Turning he saw Felix, a frown on his face. “Sir, we should return to Ruxfield. I will be sure to inquire of Miss L/n’s health in the morning.” Almost as if he was giving him no choice, Felix guided the Colonel back to his carriage and the two departed.

The next morning I awoke to find both Cecilia and Harriet sleeping beside me. Harriet even in her sleep was still holding cloth wrapped ice to my forehead. Sensing my movement, Harriet woke up and asked millions of questions about how I was feeling.

Cecilia then woke up not long after. She recounted what happened after the fight and then left to let me change for the day. The next week went by with no word from the Colonel. Felix came by the first morning to give his apologies at the Colonel’s request. Sadly, Mr. Lee visited almost daily. I had taken to sketching in the book gifted to me by my sister, hoping this would come as a distraction from remembering certain interactions from that night.

The afternoon was perfect. A light rain had come in the morning, leaving droplets on the the flowers in the garden. Now the sun was out and shining, as I sat on a bench outside with my sketchbook amongst the flowers. “My lady you have a visitor.” Carson said from the stone walkway. The garden had somewhat of a keyhole stone path, with a fountain and stone circle at the center. Mr.Carson stood near the fountain. Through the water you could see the outline of a man’s over coat. “If it is Mr. Lee send him away. I am in no mood to entertain him today.”

“Mr. Lee is not the one asking for visitation,” A smooth deep voice spoke as its owner moved from behind the fountain.

Colonel Han stood a little in front of Carson, looking at you with a serious expression. The same he wore every day of his entire life, except it his eyes. His eyes once again held that softness, as if it was a sight only you could bring out of him. “I’d have to jump off a bridge if I was that cat loving bigot.” A hint of a smile slid onto his lips.

He was correct. Mr. Han was nothing like Mr. Lee. Han was rough. He had edges. He never primped himself like Mr.Lee did. I couldn’t help but drink him in. His dark hair was shaggy and he only wore a simple shirt and the old navy overcoat he seemingly never took off. His boots were dirty and scuffed, but well taken care of. A sign of his daring acts but military discipline. A blush came over my cheeks as I remembered the feeling of dancing with him, his chest against my back.

“Jis- Colonel... to what do I owe the pleasure.” I closed my sketchbook and placed it beside me on the stone bench. “Papa is in London, but he should return by nightfall.” In all of my life I had never been nervous in front of a man other than my father. I believed a woman should be a strong and elegant vision, not simply standing behind a man but beside him if at all. So why could I not meet Mr. Han’s eyes.

“I’m not here to see your father. I’m here to see you.”

My eyes widened at his words. Nothing was different about him. He still stood straight with his arms behind his back, keeping a respectable distance form me. His face remained stoic as if he was reading from a war plan. “Thank you, Carson. You may leave us,”

It was Han’s turn to be flustered upon hearing my words. Being the respectful man he was he always adhered to the social protocol of a woman and man never being alone unless with a chaperone. Carson raised his brow in question, but complied, entering the house.

A moment of awkward silence followed. Then another. And another. It was almost like Mr. Han had lost the ability to function after being alone with me. Nervously, I played with the fabric of my dress. What could he possibly want to discuss with me. We have hardly had a pleasant conversation in our entire lives. “Miss Ln-” His words halted when I looked up at him. His eyes went immediately to my face. I knew exactly what he was looking at. The bruise from that night. It was lighter now, having had a week to heal, but still visible.

“Oh Y/n...” He reached out as if to touch my face, but thought better of it and pulled back. There was no longer a wide expanse between us. He now stood only a few feet away from where I sat. “We are not even wed, and yet I have already forsaken you and broken a valiant code...” He muttered under an aggravated sigh.

He was grateful that I didn’t hear it. “If you are indeed here for me, please enlighten me of your purpose for I am in the dark.” I said pushing a strand of loose hair around my face. As he opened his mouth to speak a deep voice called his name.

“Colonel Han!”

Felix came running out of Whitewater. He was out of breath and his hair and clothes were out of place, like he had just gotten off his horse. He handed on a sealed envelope and whispered something in Mr. Han’s ear. Immediately, Han opened the letter with his long nimble fingers. His eyes quickly scanned the letter, leaving me in anxious silence.

“What is it?” I asked on the edge of my seat. Han handed the letter back to Felix and whispered something back to him. Felix spared me a glance before leaving us alone.

The Colonel raked a hand through his already slightly disheveled hair and turned his back to me. Something was compelling me to reach out to him. “Jisung,” He turned at the sound of his name. My mind had yet to register the fact this was the first time I had actually said his name. He on the other hand, did notice.

“What is the matter?” He sighed and looked back at the house. Felix was standing by the door, discussing something with Carson. “Napoleon has resumed his advances on the border.” It took me a moment for me to process the information. This was news that was not for me to hear. “Why-”

“They are calling me to the front line.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Felix gave me my orders just now. I leave in the morning.”

This meant so many things. This meant our country was once again at war with France. It meant Father would have to stay in London. It meant Mr. Han would be sent to the heat of the battle commanding easily a thousand men in combat. It meant Jisung...was being sent into battle that he might not come back from.

Why did I even care? I was in line to be engaged. Granted it was to a spinless snob I practically loathed. “I may be a bitter married woman when you returned. Then our arguments will be that much more interesting.” Another look flashed across his face. Almost like he was disappointed that was what I had chosen to say. Like he had wished I had asked him to stay.

“Let’s hope for the both of us that is not true when I return.”

Before I could understand his words Felix returned, this time with Carson behind him. He came to Mr. Han’s side and urgently whispered something in his ear. Han nodded and brushed him off before turning back to me, his eyes growing soft. Gently, he took my hand. All I could do was watch as he brought it up to his lips and softly kissed my knuckles.

It was an action I had experienced many times from many men. All seeking for my hand in marriage. But this. This was different. This felt intimate. Like the kiss was burning itself into my skin as if to mark me for life. His eyes joined mine as he pulled away.

“Colonel, we have to go.” Felix said breaking the silence. Han slid his hand from mine and he turned to follow Felix back to Ruxfield to prepare for is departure. My body could do nothing but watch him leave.

“You’re all grown up now, Miss Y/n.” Carson said. He had the kindest smile on his face as he came to sit on the bench, pulling me down with him. “What do you mean, Carson?” He sighed, taking my hand in his. Carson was nothing like my father. He and my mother were very close and Mr. Carson always seemed like a real father figure in my life. He was the one who taught me to dance, and what books I should read, and even how to play poker.

“You are falling in love. I would know that look anywhere.” Love? With the Colonel. Impossible. I despised him. Right? “I am not in love. If I was in love I would be getting married.” He chuckled and patted my hand. “Aren’t you though?”

“Carson, do you see me voluntarily marrying that mess of a man?”

“Are you speaking of Lord Lee or Colonel Han?”

Blinking, the thought crossed my mind. Of course I was talking about Mr. Lee right. I was set to marry him. Was Carson saying I should marry Mr. Han? Marrying Colonel Han Jisung. The thought had never crossed my mind. Now that it did, why did my heart swell.

“Of course I’m speaking of Mr. Lee. Father would forbid anyone else.” Carson nodded, looking over the garden. “So, are you saying there is someone else?” He took my silence as an answer, smiling.

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Y/n. From this day you must be a stranger to one of us. Your father will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Lee, and I would never see you again if you do.”

A warm, fatherly smile filled his eyes. “Do you love him?” There was no question of who he was talking about. “While I have lost my heart, I shall not lose my self control. I will not become one of those silly girls running around with their heads in the clouds controlled by love.” Carson laughed and picked a flower near the bench.

“Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.”

Before I could respond I was interrupted by what seemed like the fourth time today. “Y/’n! Y/n!” Cecilia ran out of the house a grin from ear to ear. Emma and Charlotte followed hot on her heels. Her light blue dress blew behind her as she ran over to us. “Y/n, I’m pregnant!” After blinking a few times I wrapped her up in a hug and cheered. Carson joined us and we all went inside to celebrate Cecilia’s news, leaving the conclusion of my conversation with Carson in the back of my mind.

Spring came and went. Soon came the long months of summer and with it came heavy summer storms. The Whitewater creek was filled to capacity and quite dangerous. Father had come home from London and the tensions had been high ever since he returned. Papa seemed hell bent on my marriage to Mr. Lee.

Every chance he got he brought up the engagement. I was starting to think Carson may have been right. Every mention of Mr.Lee drove me further away from him and made me wonder about another man...far away.

Another man who didn’t write. Not once. I found myself jumping to the door when Carson delivered our mail to our rooms. Weeks passed and still I heard no word from him. Weeks turned into months until it became the middle of summer. Still no word from the Colonel. Not even to my father about the war. I was beginning to worry something had happened. Certainly he wouldn’t forget about me after a goodbye like that? Why did I even care? I hated the man. Yes, I hated the man. I had all the right to hate him if he wasn’t going to send me even one letter.

Another summer storm raged outside my window. “Miss you will have to leave your room sometime.” Harriet said, hanging up some of my laundry. “If Cecilia will not leave her room then I too shall not.” Harriet laughed as I watched the water pelt against the glass. “Miss Y/n, your sister is ordered by the doctor to bed rest. Chan is taking care of her. You are simply sulking over your engagement.”

“I am not sulking over my engagement.”

“Then a certain Colonel perhaps? Maybe the lack of a letter?”

Before I could correct my friend, Carson knocked on the door and entered. “My lady, your father wishes to speak to you in his study.” I sighed, turning back to the window. “Carson, I am in no mood to speak to Papa.” Harsh winds blew the trees in the forest just outside the estate. “My lady, he is leaving for London in an hour. He is insistent on speaking to you.”

Carson gave me a small smile. He was probably right. It was better to simply speak to him before he left than ignore him until he returned home. With a sigh, I got up from my window seat. Harriet straightened my dress and adjusted the loose but proper style she had done to my hair this morning. I knew exactly what awaited me behind the heavy wooden doors. My knuckles softly wrapped against the oak.

“Enter,”

The gruff voice of my father echoed as I opened the door. He sat at his desk writing a letter or some other important document. “Papa, you wanted to talk to me?” I said standing near one of the many bookshelves in his study. “Yes, about your marriage.”

“Papa. I already told you I will not marry Mr. Lee-”

“The date has been set. You will marry Lee Minho in one month’s time.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Father!” He didn’t even look up from his work. “Do not ‘Father’ me. You knew this was going to happen. You will marry Mr. Lee. You will do as your told. It is your duty as a woman of this household.” What? My what?

“My duty as woman?”

“Yes.”

“Father, I have no duty as woman. Especially to you. I will not marry a man who I do not love. It is not my duty to obey your every command!” This was when he chose to look at me. His eyes turned cold. “Y/n L/n. You are my daughter. You will do as I say!” Rage filled every inch of my body. “No! I will control my own life! I will not marry him and that is final! Times are changing. It is time you changed with them, Father!” The sound of his chair screeching against the wood floor made me flinch. “We are a family of tradition! I will not let your silly misguided modern values change our family!”

His voice boomed loud enough for the entire estate to hear. “What would mother think of this! She would never-” “DO NOT BRING YOUR MOTHER INTO THIS!” A book flew across the room. Never the less I stood my ground, staring straight back at him even though tears threatened to spill over my eyes.

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just be-”

“If you are going to continue this kind of behavior then I want you out of Whitewater until you come to your senses!”

A silence followed; the kind that hurt. The kind you could feel- like needles plunging into your skin. Rain continued to fall on the roof and windows like bullets.

“So be it.”

With word I stormed out of the study and towards the door. Shouts from the staff could be heard behind me as I burst through the doors and out into the rain. “My lady! Y/n!” Carson called. My feet carried me to the stables. Grabbing a saddle and mounting the closest horse I rode out into the storm.

Finally able to let tears flow away from any eyes, I screamed. Never had I felt so much agony. My own father was shunning me. The man I admired had abandoned me and was sent to war. The man I despised was forcing me into marriage. My skin burned as harsh rain pelted against it. The wind blew through my hair pulling it loose.

Even through all this pain it felt...freeing. It felt amazing to run through the forest outside of Whitewater, thunder rolling in the air and rain showering down. My heart still wretched in pain. I missed my family, despite our arguments. Most of all I missed Mr. Han, despite our many many differences.

A loud crack boomed through the sky and a flash of white burst in front of my horse. I screamed as the horse reared, throwing me off its back onto the forest floor. I felt a pain against the back of my head upon impact. The horse sprinted away in fear leaving me stranded.

“Help!” I screamed into the dark. My legs struggled to hold themselves up and my vision started to become blurry. It became indecipherable what was rain or tears on my cheeks.

The world started to spin as I walked forward. I must have been ‘walking’ for hours. The cold had started to set in and the rain showed no sign of stopping. By now I was miles away from Whitewater and the closest estate was fifteen miles east.

“Help me...”

My dress was getting heavier and heavier despite the fabric being so light before. It clung to my skin and my hair hung in dark wet strands in front of my face. Over the thundering storm I thought I heard hoof beats through the forest. I must have been hallucinating. Not being able to hold myself up anymore, I leaned against a tree.

“Y/n?”

Definitely hallucinating. I was even hearing his voice now. How did I remember what his voice sounded like? Exhaustion started to set in, the pain and cold making my eyes droop and my body feel even heavier.

“Y/n? Y/n, where are you?”

Through my blurry vision I thought I saw the outline of a horse and rider wearing a dark navy coat. “Y/n!” My strength was wearing thin. Taking a chance, that it wasn’t my imagination I pushed myself off the tree and stumbled forward. “Oh god! Y/n stay where you are I’m coming!”

Hooves pounded against the ground growing closer. My head started ti spin even more as the rider jumped off his horse and rushed to me. Before I could fall, I was taken in a pair of strong arms. The edges of my vision started to blackout, my hearing came in and out, and my body shivered trying to keep itself warm. The person clutched me to their chest and pushed the wet pieces of hair away from my face, desperation in their deep voice. “Miss L/n? Y/n, can you hear me? I’ve got you now. I’m here.”

My throat felt dry. “The Colonel...he-he didn’t write to me. I’m...I’m still waiting for his letter. I can’t leave...” The rider sighed and I tried to make out his face. “Do you know Colonel Han? He told me not to get married...so I didn’t...” The words came out in slurs but they came out nonetheless. The rider clutched my head to their chest gently.

“I know, darling, I’m sorry.” He gently laid me on the forest floor and took off his coat wrapping it around me. “I couldn’t even though I wanted to.” Gently he picked me up as if I weighed nothing and moved over to the horse. Through my haze I heard him curse. Even in my state I knew there was no way he could get myself and him on the horse safely.

“Stay with me, darling.” I tried to focus on the rider’s words as he tried to figure out how to get me to safety. The exhaustion won out, leaving me in the darkness.

Colonel Han kept his head. He couldn’t panic. Not even when he saw her eyes close shut. “Damn.” His dark hair clung to his forehead as he searched for a solution. She wouldn’t last much longer. Her body was already freezing in his arms.

His horse was too high to lift her up and Ruxfield was too far to walk. Why was she outside of Whitewater in the first place? In a storm? Whitewater. Whitewater was no more than five miles away. He could make it there. Forgetting about his exhaustion from the ride back from the front line, Jisung adjusted the woman in his arms, resting her head against his chest and his arms under her legs, he began walking all the way back to Whitewater.

His arms and legs burned as he climbed over the last hill. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Whitewater in the distance through the rain. “We are almost there, darling. Hold on for me.” He just had to hold on long enough to reach Whitewater. To see Y/n was alright.

With his last burst of energy, Jisung burst through the front doors of Whitewater. “HELP! I need a physician! Someone help!” Several staff including Carson rushed up to him, seeing Y/n in his arms. “Quickly, upstairs!” he said, making a path for Jisung. She shivered in his arms as he carried her down the hall and up the stairs.

“Harriet call the physician! Tell him it’s an emergency!” A girl he had scene with Y/n before nodded and rushed to call a doctor. “Y/n! Where is she! Y/n!” Cecilia called rushing to the Colonel. “Cecilia, love, move!” Chan said wrapping the woman in his arms. “Where is Father? He should be here!” She said as they moved passed her. “Your father left for London.” Carson said.

Carson rushed to push open the door to the girl’s bedroom. The Colonel gently placed the girl on her bed and let the staff rush around the room to help her. All he could do was watch as the only woman he had thought about for the past four months lay helpless on her bed, shivering.

A pair of strong hands pushed him softly out of the room and into the hall. He looked up to find Chan. “Han, you are freezing.” “I am fine,” He tried to get a look back into the room, but a maid closed the door. “You need to rest. You just returned on leave.”

“Chan I will be fine!”

Reluctantly, the man left Jisung alone in the hall. He watched as people walked in and out of the room, rushing with towels, blankets, wet clothes, new clothes, even hot kettles. Soon a physician arrived and entered her room. It felt like hours that Jisung had waited outside her door. Finally the girl, Harriet, walked out. She jumped when he grabbed her arm.

“Give me an occupation miss-or I shall go mad.”

Taking in the man’s tired state she handed him a towel. “The doctor says Ms. L/n hit her head and has a serious case of hypothermia.” She watched as Mr. Han sighed and ran a hand through his wet shaggy hair. “Please let me do something. Anything.” All she could offer was the smallest smile.

“You’ve done all you can possibly do. Thank you for saving my mistress.”

With a sorrowful nod he watched as she walked away. “We would be happy to set up a room for you, sir. We would be happy to keep you updated on how the lady is doing.” He gave Harriet a kind smile. “That would be very generous, Miss. I’ll only be staying for the two nights, if that is alright. I have orders to return to the line.” With a nod, Harriet went to prepare a room for the Colonel.

During those two days, Mr. Han never left her side. He stayed by her bedside helping Harriet and Cecilia with anything they asked. One the morning of his departure he gave Cecilia the name of his personal carrier. “If there is any change please let me know. The letter will go directly to me.” She nodded and took the piece of parchment watching the Colonel leave once again.

Sunlight streamed through my window. My head pounded and my body still felt cold. Slowly I slipped out of my bed, feet placing themselves slowly on the cool wood floor. “You are awake!” Cecilia screamed. Rushing over she practically tackled me back onto my bed. “Cecilia, the baby!” “Oh I don’t care you are okay! Thank heavens you are okay!”

I couldn’t help but smile as she hugged me. “Chan will kill you if you hurt his child before it’s even born.” “Shhhhhhhh! Not now. My sister has returned from the dead.” Laughing she hugged me even harder.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled away and rushed to my dresser. When she returned she had a letter in her hands. “This came for you yesterday. You have been asleep for almost a week. You needed quite a lot of rest. I don’t blame you.” She handed me the envelope with a small smile. “Wait, where are you going?” I asked as she started to leave my room. “I think I should leave you alone with that.” Something about her smile made me laugh.

My shaking hands opened the letter with my name addressed on it in rough but elegant handwriting. When I opened it the familiar smell of gunpowder and old parchment reached my nose. The same handwriting greeted me as I read the letter.

“Miss Ln,

I have written this letter many times, but have been a coward to not send it. I had hoped I would be home to say this-but it seems Napoleon has different plans than I.

Miss L/n, I would like to apologize from the bottom of my heart. There were a thousand times I wanted to write to you, but events on the front line prevented me. I would like to apologize for not getting to you sooner that day. I wish I had been there soon for you, my darling.

I pray that by the time you get this letter you are not yet married to that insolent pitiful disgrace of a man. Though the timing may be off I have something to ask of you. Something to confess...

Miss L/n you have bewitched me- body and soul. To what time I fell so deeply under your spell, I cannot recall. I know not the hour or the spot or the words or even the look that lay the foundation. I was in the middle before I even began. What a proud fool I was. To think my stubbornness was the only thing keeping me from you. In vain I have struggled, but it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and...love you.

It seems as if the only thing keeping me alive in this battle is the image of you smile. I would die a thousand deaths for that smile.

I have heard your father’s news of your wedding. I beg of you. Do not follow through. I hope that perhaps there is something I can offer. Miss L/n...should I return, I would like to humbly request for your hand. I know I have no right to you, nor should any man. You are the most strong woman I have ever had the pleasure and fortune of meeting, and to me it makes you the most beautiful woman to walk this earth.

I hope to hear from you soon, my darling. Until then, I shall be fighting for the day that I do. I long for the day I am home.

In hope,

Han Jisung”

I sat in disbelief. Colonel Han Jisung had written me a letter professing his love. He proposed... Leaving the letter on my bed I walked to the window. The audacity. To ask me over a letter? A knock sounded at the door pausing my pacing. “Enter,” Harriet paused when she saw the look on my face. “Miss, what’s the matter.”

“Harry, I believe I have a serious decision to make.”

Months passed. Summer turning into mid fall. Father’s supposed wedding date for me had long passed. Each time Mr. Lee had visited Carson had turned him away. More letters from the Colonel had arrived, but they all said the same thing and soon they came to a stop. Cecilia had given birth not to long ago, to a beautiful baby boy. Chan and my sister had named the child Benjamin.

News came that the war ended, England victorious. Soon I would be expecting a visitor. I sat in the garden with my sketchbook, drawing the few flowers that were left in the beds among other things. A certain face had popped up in the pages of my book several times. “Miss Y/n,” I looked up to see Carson walking down the pathway.

“You have a visitor.”

A smirk fell across my lips. “Well, I believe I have been expecting him so let us not keep him waiting any longer.” With a smile, Carson returned into the house to fetch my guest. Patiently, I waited for the guest to come out and see me. I heard the sound of boots against the stone pathway and smiled.

“Good afternoon, Colonel.”

“Yes, indeed, Miss L/n.”

There was a nervous expression on his face. Once again he looked like he had just returned from active duty. His dark hair had grown a little longer and he wore the same navy overcoat again. His shirt underneath was covered in black powder and some of the buttons were undone to reveal his tan and slightly toned chest. Yes, definitely just returned. Returned with no time to change apparently.

Quickly I brought my attention back to my sketchbook in hopes that it would hide the heat spreading on my cheeks. “Did...you receive my letters?” Self control regained, I turned my attention back to Mr. Han. “Why yes, Colonel Han, I did in fact receive several letters.”

“And you are not married...”

“No, I am not.”

The man stood perfectly still in military fashion, his hands clasped behind his back. “Well are you going to speak? You certainly did not come to Whitewater just to stare at me did you?” Shock crossed Han’s face. It was evident he had not expected me to speak to him like this. It was fun to see the stoic Colonel flustered.

“I came to ask you response. You never wrote back to me.” I shrugged, getting off the bench. “Response? I don’t remember ever being properly asked a question.” He sighed running a hand through his hair, a habit that I had missed while he was away. “I do recall asking-” “No, Colonel Han. You requested. You, sir, never asked me anything. So why should I dignify you with a response.”

Maybe it was the smile, or the slight twinkle in my eye, but he laughed. A sound that I had never heard from the man. It made me want to memorize every sound and feature of his face when he laughed. “Then, should I ask you properly, Miss L/n?” It was a genuine question, not of simple jest. “There is no harm in questions.” He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes.

“Miss L/n, will you please allow me the great honor of making you my wife?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes widened at my quick response. “I’m sorry Colonel, but I cannot promise to be any man’s wife who sits prettily in a corner and who is expected to obey every word he says. I won’t be expected to just sit around waiting for you-...him- to come home.”

“Wherever you are is my home; my only home.”

There was sincerity in his eyes. Love. “Mr. Han,” He sighed taking my hands in his. Though his touch was still unfamiliar, it felt sure and safe. “Miss L/n, please let me speak.” He practically begged. I waited silent for him to continue.

“I am half in hope and half in agony. If your feelings are still what I assumed they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged but one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.” He searched my eyes for an answer.

“Miss L/n, I am in love with you more than you will ever know. I want nothing more than to be with you. To wake up to every morning- to fall asleep next to you every night. To stand next to me, not behind me. I am in love with your wit, and your charm, and how you always keep me on my toes more than any battle ever has. I am in love with your modern values and your spontaneity.” Han’s hands were rough against mine, his slender fingers ghosting over my skin.

“Y/n...Will you marry me, and do me the honor of letting me be your husband?”

Han’s dark eyes looked into mine- indeed half in agony and half in hope. He looked at me as if everything in the world that mattered to him was standing in front of him. The look in his eyes couldn’t help but make me smile. I was in love with Colonel Han Jisung and it couldn’t be helped.

“Yes,”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” He asked. “Of course.” He smiled and looked down at his hands still gently holding mine. “May I?” He asked softly, glancing between my eyes and my lips. It only took a small nod for him to act, pressing his lips softly onto mine. My head begin to feel dizzy in the best way. His fingers traveled up the bare skin of my arms and then down to rest on my waist, bringing me closer. Han smiled as my hands pressed against his chest, kissing him back.

“I love you, Jisung. With all my heart.”

“It took you long enough to say it, my darling.”

El Fin

Requests are open my lovelies!

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

twenty-six

chapters: 25 / 26 / 27

knight!jungkook x princess!reader

Silver armor encases Taehyung’s body almost as though he was made for it - for war and the blood that is bound to spill when he puts it on.

You would know, you’ve been on the receiving end of the battlefield.

Yet you ask for the same suffering of Goldwald’s people.

Something in the bottom of your belly churns with unrest as your mouth sews itself shut. You’ve been a silent watcher as Taehyung draft out the map of the rich merchant-filled land, marking red dots upon the blueprint of where the soldiers will lay in hiding. Whether they attack or not is solely up to the young King of Goldwald - if he agrees to become part of the Southern Kingdom’s territory, then there was no need to make use of the soldiers. If he so chooses to go to war, then he is bound to lose.

This is the first time Taehyung rides for war ever since you got married - some had expected him to seize what’s left of the lone countries at first light the day after he takes the throne. As what was expected from his tyrannic reputation.

Some, as your sister had belatedly relayed before she left after the ball, had thought the Queen - you - had finally put the savage beast to sleep.

You didn’t know the degrees of truth that holds, but you do know it was you who poured the promise of blood over the beast’s lust.

A peck lands on your forehead, just inches from the jeweled crown that sits atop your prettily made hair. Yerin’s hairstyling skill is like no other - you’ve summoned her back to the palace and she’d obeyed every one of your command without so much as a complaint. It is unclear whether it was a good thing or bad.

“You’ll get wrinkles before you turn 30 with a frown like that,” Taehyung jests, a smile making its way to his handsome features - he does that a lot now, smiling that is, “fret not, I’ve given orders to the men to strike down Goldwald’s army only and spare the weak.”

And he’s become more considerate - for you. Because he notices the troubled lines that appears on your face as the men hustled around the palace with polished sword and shields for preparation of war.

At times you find yourself melting from how warm he felt but most times you step back like what you’re doing now, as though reinforcing the invisible line between you two.

The slightest flash of hurt in his eyes does not go unnoticed by you yet you school a stern expression - the way you usually would in his unwanted presence. Though you aren’t so sure why, even though he’s leaving you alone for at least three months, there’s a heavy weight in pulling on your heartstrings.

“Thank you, my King.” You lower your head, “you are most considerate. Goldwald’s people are fortunate to be blessed with your kindness.”

When you raise your gaze, his is becoming shrouded with looming clouds. If there weren’t as many footmen and maids lined up from the palace’s doors down to the gate, you’re sure - he would have burst out. Begged you for your reason for being so distant when all he is, is granting your wish.

The young prince you married would have done so regardless of whether there were watching eyes - perhaps it’s true, the beast lying within the King has its claws clipped. He’s beginning to show much more refinement - a telltale of a wise ruler.

Surprise paints your face when he lowers his face to your stomach, a gloved hand caressing the side of your belly - between the ball and the preparation for Goldwald’s seize, you’ve found yourself due any day now.

“I won’t be here when you come into this world,” he murmurs low enough for only you and him to hear, “but I’ll come back as soon as I’ve conquered Goldwald. Don’t make mommy go through so much pain, yes?”

Guilt’s rears its ugly head at his tender voice and the jarring truth to the baby in your belly’s identity. You don’t regret having your child - but as days pass and as Taehyung’s tone begin to sound like a soft lullaby, the fact that you’re lying right to his face doesn’t sit as right with you. Not the way it used to.

He fixes you a smile - one that is so conflicted but at the same time longs to hold you. Yet he does nothing but bow before turning his back on you as he walks towards his horse, the men already in formation.

“Taehyung,” you find yourself calling his name, making him halt, one foot on the stirrup while he cranes his neck towards you.

Before you know it, the clicking of your heels echo into the air. His lifted brows are the last thing you see before your lips press against his. Surprise is still present on his face when you pull away - you couldn’t bring yourself to send him off with a smile. Perhaps it’s the gnawing feeling festering inside the lightless part of your heart, knowing Jungkook is somewhere in one of the towers, on the look out for enemies - possibly witnessing you run towards the man you swore to loathe. Perhaps it’s the brood of war that you’re sending Taehyung off too. But you mean it when you say-

“Come back to me safely.”

“My Queen, you shouldn’t be out of bed!” Eunha laments, deep creases of frustration marking the spot between her eyebrows.

Unbeknownst to you, before Taehyung’s departure, he had gathered all the servants and gave orders to be on the look out for their Queen in case she overworks herself - said orders to be effective immediately after he passed through the palace’s gates.

Not even a day later, the servants greet you with wary bows and gazes. As though the baby was going to pop out of you right that instant.

Eunha, having been with you for almost a year, had been more vocal than the first time you met her - but you supposed it was her own way of caring for her Queen. Even though some may deem it discourteous to speak to a monarch in that manner.

Perhaps, three days ago, you would have believed that she was genuinely one of yours if you hadn’t noticed the numbness in your fingertips and the slightest shade of purple underneath your nails - like that of a dead man’s.

“I was just getting some water from the table,” you simply say, holding the glass of water to your lips while you turn another page of the book Yerin lent you - for some reason she’d taken to standing by the sidelines rather than actively trying to get into your good graces.

It was not a mystery why - what happened that night with Taehyung had embarrassed her greatly yet her family’s status would be ruined if she’d quit being your lady-in-waiting out of the blue.

Two days ago, you would have let the tendrils of guilt bind around your throat until it was hard to even swallow.

You’d noticed it the morning after Taehyung left. The signs were subtle - you didn’t feel any pain but perhaps that was because of your high tolerance from the many times you’d sustained injuries during practice and on the battlefield.

Still, you’d skipped all meals, piling them underneath your bed, leaving empty plates for them to pick up until Eunha helped you bathe and Yerin helped you into your nightgown and combed your hair like she usually would.

It was something in the way the latter’s brows come together in a mutual uncertainty as she ran the comb through your hair, “your majesty, I hope I’m not overstepping my boundary but...”

“What is it?” Your tone was as cold as the fingers in your lap - perhaps, on days she didn’t hold so much motive to harm you, there would not have been so much animosity directed to her.

“Um - it’s just, you seem awfully quiet today - are you alright?” The mirror reflected every movement of her eyes as they darted away from your heated gaze, towards the corner of the room and finally fixed on your hair.

It could have meant many things. A mouse who got her tail stuck in the trap, being one of it.

But you couldn’t call the guards and have her thrown into prison with just a mere hunch - an assumption.

Eunha was not entirely out spared from it either.

With a sigh, you’d dismissed her with a, “I’m just tired - it’s my first time being pregnant and a Queen.”

As though you did not just snap at her a minute ago, Yerin had chuckled - it was the first time she ever did anything that required lowering the guard around you, apples on her cheeks and all whilst her hand went to cover her mouth, “I see, I can’t fit my foot on either shoes but I shall pray for my Queen’s health and safe labor.”

It had taken you awhile to register her well wishes and another to finally respond, “thank you, Yerin.”

As soon as she was gone, you’d hurried to the window. Torches lined down the pathway towards the garden and a few more scattered across the maze-like bushes. The moon had beamed at you in greeting.

“Jungkook?” You whispered into the night but it was another man who’d stepped out from the shadows.

“Not tonight - Jungkook has errands to run.” Yoongi informed, eyes as unfazed as ever.

By ‘errands’ he’d mean going to the bars and pubs - that was where rumors, regardless whether true or not, spread like wildfire. Jungkook had been your ghost - your eyes and ears.

“Come inside - we’re going to pay the physician a visit.” You left the window half-agape and disappeared into your closet where the cloak you’d used time and time again to sneak out, was lying in the corner underneath your ground-swept ballgowns.

There wasn’t so much as a thud to signal his entrance but you’d instructed him to bunch up the cloth that you’d piled your lunch and dinner over under your bed regardless. When you’d stepped out of the closet, dark cloak hanging around your body - you didn’t think it’d cover your stomach but it did - Yoongi already had one hand clenched around the cloth.

You’d use the servant’s passage to avoid the guards - anyone who could have been planted here to keep an eye on what you’ve been up to, make sure you weren’t going far and beyond what they wanted and if you did they’d-

“Poison, your majesty.” The physician had been a man in his 60′s with graying hair and beard and moon spectacles sitting atop his bulbous nose. He’d stood in front of you with a darkened expression in a worn out green robe he’d hastily thrown on after being woken up from his deep slumber, “the way the tip of your fingers were blue and dark veins begin to appear over your stomach - I’m sure it’s because you’ve consumed the extract of the bloodflower.”

The rapid thrumming of your heart had spread throughout your body yet your voice had been startlingly calm as you’d gently rubbed the skin stretched over your stomach, just above the spot where you’d felt the kick of another life from within - perhaps it was the knowledge that your child was still alive that had grounded you, prevented you from ordering an execution of whom you did not want to think about.

“And my child?”

“I cannot say for certain,” he shook his head, “it is difficult to ascertain the amount from the food you’d brought as it’d been mixed together - I will send my apprentice-”

“No,” you speak over him, voice as sharp as the two swords hung over the wall just above the headboard in your chamber, “speak of this to no one. I will send you one of my ghosts - he’ll assist you in getting whatever you need to do to get the antidote. For now, whoever orchestrated this thinks we don’t know so they will be unprepared.”

You’d stood up from the chair, forcing your wobbling knees to hold you up even though all you want is to crawl into your bed and bury yourself under layers of blanket as though it would protect you from the spiteful hands of those who wanted to harm you and your child.

But it was the unsettlingly warm desire of Taehyung’s arms wrapping around you that made you clear you hold your chin higher as inner protest.

The physician lowered his head as he cede before speaking again, “one more thing, your majesty, if I may be so bold, I would advice against straining yourself working given the circumstances and until I’ve made a concoction of the antidote.”

“That’s reasonable,” you say after a moment of pondering - the physician’s crestfallen expression being caused by your next words, not going unnoticed but neither do you plan to change it, “but I can’t simply put matters of segregating resources to cities on hold whenever I want to.”

“You could have rang and I’d come and get it for you.” Eunha’s huff tears you away from your recollection. Hands planted on both sides of her hips, she’s a remark away from bursting into a nag.

“Alright,” you shut the book gently, but not before marking the page you’re on, “will you help me prepare for the day, Eunha?”

Despite her drawn brows and conflicted pout, she relents a heartbeat later, “as you wish, your majesty.”

Eunha helps you bathe and change into a teal dress that arrived from one of the boutiques from the capital. Except where you would accept her hand in assisting you to walk, you hold yours out to Yerin. The woman stares at you as though you’ve grown another head for the longest moment before dropping her own in a courtesy, “your majesty.”

Smiling, you hook your arm around hers when she offers it, noticing Eunha’s darkening expression before you begin to tread towards your office. The whole time, she trails behind you and Yerin like a maid would had it been within your own castle in the Northern Kingdom. Had your rise not been so opposed by the aristocrats and ministers that you were forced to find alliance in someone whose status was on the other side of the sphere compared to yours.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fic #bts fluff #bts fanfics #bts fics #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #knight!jungkook #princess!reader

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oldshowbiz · 4 years ago

Video

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If Footmen Tire You What Will Horses Do (1972) is an incredible Ed Wood-ian Baptist scare film about the Soviet takeover of America. It does not mince words about how Saturday morning cartoons turn children into criminals and how “dancing is just as wrong as it has always been.”

#red scare #cold war #christian #b movie #drive in #exploitation films

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irene-sadler · 4 years ago

Text

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

(aka “The Tournament”)

` Had Isbel made it rain? Meve thought maybe Gascon was onto something, but knew better than to ask. Regardless, the weather had changed by morning to a chill wind and cloudy sky which warmed to a damp, but rainless, afternoon. Possibly it was pleasant enough for those observing the proceedings and eating roasted nuts; she herself was drenched in sweat and could see only a small, square piece of the world beyond the two-inch thickness of leather, eighth-inch of steel, and heavy coat of dull black paint that separated her head from the outside world. Her view of the day was of pale gray skies, floating colorful banners, and the back of Bohault’s armor directly in front of her.

(“The tourney armor is not quite what you’re used to wearing.” Reynard had advised her, the night before. “It’s heavier and thicker.”

He’d considered the hastily-painted set he’d loaned her, frowning doubtfully.

“I must admit, I’m concerned that a few of these knights might recognize my armor even with the black paint, but will of course know I’m not in it; luckily it will be hard for them to say much about it if you arrive with no time to spare. Of course, a real professional can generally tell who is wearing a set of armor by the way they fight, whatever disguise they may employ, but they’ve never seen you fight, and even if they know my armor, and they know me, they may not figure out the discrepancy before it’s too late; for them, I mean.”

She’d grinned, gap-toothed and wolfish.)

She wasn’t smiling then, because of her jangling nerves, but he was right. It was impossible to see much of anything through the helm, much less recognize an individual knight, or realize that someone wasn’t really a knight. The roped-off lists teemed with a shifting, crushing press of horses and people – knights, footmen, valets, and Gascon, visible in the front of the mass, talking to Reynard, although she had no idea what they were saying, between the din of the crowd in the distance and the rattle of armor directly around her.

(“You won’t be able to hear much of anything, what with the crowd and the helm,” Reynard had continued, with a smile that almost matched hers, “It’s easiest to just listen for trumpets. The first you’ll hear are a warning to prepare yourself.”)

She heard a distant blare of instruments through the metal and leather that protected her head; her destrier, a massive bay animal, twitched his ears at the sound and sidled gently away from her neighbors, carrying her footmen and valets along with him like lesser celestial bodies. She sat still as he completed his movement and then stood patiently, unaffected by the din or by the dramatics of any of the horses near him. A veteran, she noted with appreciation; she’d borrowed him, like the armor, from Reynard, and wasn’t sure which of the two she valued more at that moment.

(“The second time you hear horns will be when the melee is over. Once all is in order, they’ll cut the ropes; you’ve seen this done, of course. After that you may fight whoever you come across who is on th’ opposing side. As you aren’t a famous, or infamous, knight, nobody will single you out in particular, and all you need to worry about to succeed is staying on your horse – but you’ve been in plenty of real battles, and you know that. I think you’ll do very well, under the circumstances.”)

The mass of men and animals waited; a drift of wood smoke floated over them and found its way through the little gap in Meve’s visor. Her eyes watered; she battled the urge to sneeze, lost, and, at that moment of weakness, the pack suddenly surged forward, carrying herself and her horse along with it. She juggled her lance and the reins for a moment, then noted the frustrated cant of her horse’s ears as he broke into a slow, heavy trot with the rest of the mass of rattling, encumbered men. It occurred to her that the animal knew more about his business than she did, so she dropped the reins, couched her lance, and knocked down her first attacker by instinct as much as skill. The spear shattered on impact with his breastplate and she continued on her way, dropping the useless splinters and happily shifting to more familiar tactics.

(Reynard’s face had turned unsure again, as he spoke. She suspected he was more nervous than she was, herself.

“- you’ll do very well unless, of course, you fall off, and then it’s anyone’s guess. You fight well on foot, better than I do, in fact, but it’s still best for you to stay mounted; mine will do his best to keep you aboard if he possibly can.”)

With a lance, she was awkward at best, but with a mace, she was perfectly competent. Reynard’s horse needed no guidance, and she battered her way through one, then another, of the defendant knights, as they happened to pass into her narrow view. She smashed through the lance of the first as he tilted at her, turned back after him, shoved him to the ground with her shield, and kept going. The second knight she recognized with satisfaction - he was dressed in red armor and had, seeing her unstoppable approach, moved to block her way. Her horse turned himself obligingly to put her alongside. She swung, experimentally, was easily blocked on his shield, and deflected an answering sword-blow with her own. Her next swing was delivered with the full force of her personal dislike behind it. The hit dented the stranger’s shield and splintered her mace; the head flew off into the air. They paused, staring at the splintered handle of her weapon in mutual astonishment.

(“But if you fall, Meve, you ought to yield; Bohault and th’ others will keep you in one piece. At least, I hope they will,” Reynard added, with a doubtful frown, which he shook off sharply. “Yes, they will, you’ll be fine. However, should you lose your helm-“

“Oh,” she said, taking his hand and steering him away from the armor, “Not to worry; I’ll wear a knit hat to cover my hair, and nobody will notice. Although, I do wish Isbel hadn’t refused to charm the thing so it wouldn’t come off at all, but I suppose that’d be an unfair advantage.”)

The moment was interrupted as someone hit the back of her helm from behind, a clanging blow that crashed her off her horse and into the clinging mud below. Isbel had most definitely caused the rainstorm, Meve reflected distractedly, as someone immediately dragged her up out of the muck and onto her feet. The stolid, middle-aged face of Bohault loomed overhead. He released her as she dragged her sword out of its sheath, and shouted an angry negative at whatever he was saying. She abandoned the horse and her shield, pushed Gaspar out of her way, and strode off in search of a new target, ignoring her ringing ears. Close by, one of her allies was scrambling backward, under desperate siege by a pair of opponents; she dealt one a hard punch to the helm with her armored fist, closed with the second and disarmed him with a clever twist of her weapon that sent his sword flying, turned back to her first victim, and scowled in disgust as the knight rapidly backed away from her and made his escape.

The man she’d rescued was floundering in the mud with his helm crooked; Meve made a momentary search, turning her entire torso to see through her visor, for his footmen, saw none, dropped her sword in the mud, and, gritting her teeth through her growing exhaustion, dragged him back onto his feet with both hands. She recognized his face with a flash of annoyance, noticed that his right arm was most probably broken, from the way his shield was awkwardly hanging, and sighed. Over his shoulder, Meve spotted the red knight coming for her, himself unhorsed; she hesitated, then raised her empty hand significantly, and, as he accordingly changed course and passed her by, reluctantly signaled to Bohault. The cavalryman and her own footmen circled around, blackjacks held against the thinning remains of the melee.

(“You’ll get tired, sooner than you think, my dear, but recall that this isn’t a real battle, and you may quit the field at any time, even if the fight hasn’t ended yet.”

She’d scoffed at the idea. Reynard smiled and shook his head at her.)

“There’s no shame in retiring early, so long as you put in a valiant effort,” Reynard had said; she repeated his rhetoric to Ethan, just before Isbel snapped the squire’s right shoulder back into place. The youth had nothing to say in response, but managed to nod to convey that he accepted her comments as an absolute truth, given by his Queen, before he fainted dead away. She sighed, rubbed her aching neck, and prepared herself for another lecture from the sorceress, but to her mild surprise the older woman only nodded approvingly at her.

“You’re wanted, ma’am,” Pug announced, sticking her head into the room, “And the Duke of Dogs warns that you’ve won some prize or something, and ought t’ prepare according.”

“They’ve been saying that the black knight is in love with a princess who was turned by magic into a swan,” Isbel remarked. “And that he is searching for a way to turn her back; as part of his quest, he has taken a vow of silence, so that he neither speaks nor removes his helmet. I’ve no idea how these rumors began circulating, obviously.”

“Fantastic,” Meve mumbled, reaching for her helm. “A swan, is it? Sound most inconvenient; for the knight, I mean. I’m sure the lady is quite content.”

The prize was granted by the middle-aged wife of the defendant Baron, smugly standing in for the mysteriously absent Queen; Meve recognized the woman from the previous day’s jousting even through her narrow view. She was exhausted, but Reynard’s horse carried her to receive her due, again without any instruction on her part, and her mud-spattered armor disguised her slight shaking. Somewhere beyond her metal shell, a man haughtily announced, “Behold here this noble lady, accompanied by my lords the judges, who have come to give you the tourney prize, because you have been judged the knight who has fought best today in the melee of the tourney, and my lady prays that you will take it with good will.”

She did, after a short pause before she realized she was being addressed, said nothing at all in response but only bowed, a motion made necessarily awkward by the weight of metal she wore, and then rode away.

There was no avoiding either the feast or dance that night, and Meve’s dwindling morale was not improved on realizing she would be unable to avoid the Baroness, either; she didn’t dislike the woman, but her patience for small talk was limited, at the best of times, and almost nonexistent after her long day. Luckily, the older woman only eyed her speculatively for a moment as she sat down and then tactfully made uninteresting conversation on occasion. The evening therefore wore on tiresomely, but mostly in silence, until she nodded toward Gascon and his admirers and remarked to Meve, “I believe they grow them without brains, these days; you’d best keep that one in green away from your friend. Do you see her circling? A grasping creature; harpies don’t compare.”

Meve, quite familiar with the behavior of harpies, considered the subject with an analytical eye and said, thoughtfully, “Hmm.”

A few minutes later, they were deep in a detailed discussion of the merits and backgrounds of the women in the hall, and then, after another drink or two, the men as well; it carried them companionably until Gascon escaped the crowd and joined them. He flopped into the seat nearest Meve, uninvited, and consumed the rest of her drink with a dramatic sigh. The Baroness stared blandly at him; Meve rolled her eyes toward the other woman.

“This is awful,” Gascon complained, “I don’t know how the two of you do this full-time. I think I was pretty rude, though; maybe most of those people won’t want to talk t’ me again.”

“You get used to it, after a few decades – oh, what now?” Meve asked irritably, as the door to the hall banged open and an armed man strode confidently through. Conversation in the hall ceased instantly, as everyone else looked curiously at the newcomer: a soldier, Meve suspected from his patchwork armor of mail and leather and extensive mustache, or perhaps a mercenary. The stranger looked around himself, bowed toward the Queen and Baroness and said, politely enough, “Good evening; I’m looking for Sir Reynard Odo.”

“Really? What for?” Gascon asked him, intrigued, but the knight stood up before the stranger could answer.

“Yes? Can I help you?” he asked; Meve sighed as the stranger immediately declared, “My master, Sir Holt of the Fen, represents that you have offended his honor and demands that you apologize or else face the consequences.”

“Who?” The Duke asked in a carrying whisper, blinking.

“The red knight; you remember him,” Meve explained, much more quietly. “What did you do, Count Odo?” she asked, louder. The Count shrugged modestly.

“He annoyed me yesterday evening, my lady,” he replied, “And so I threw him up some stairs. No, sir, I won’t apologize,” he continued, to the messenger. “Would do it again, in fact, given the chance.”

Gascon grinned; the Baroness smirked; Meve had to duck her head slightly to hide her own slightly surprised smile. A whisper of comment and a few laughs went around the room; the stranger ignored them.

“In that case, he challenges you to a duel, to restore his honor by force, says you are a recreant knight and no gentleman, and-“

“Yes, yes,” Reynard interrupted, uncharacteristically impatient, “Gascon, would you mind arranging the details?”

“Not at all,” he said, lightly. “Do you prefer swords, or something else?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” the knight replied, bowed to all present, and shot a quick glance at the Queen. She nodded, very slightly; he left the hall without another word.

“Well,” she said to Gascon, as the stranger made his exit and the general din resumed, “I suppose we’ll be imposing on your hospitality for a few more days, then.”

“Stay as long as you want,” Gascon replied cheerily.

“I’m not surprised he wants to fight me,” Reynard was saying much later, sitting complacently with his legs stretched toward the inferno in Gascon’s fireplace and the knight who’d fought best that day resting her head in his lap, “But I did expect Sir Holt would choose a less melodramatic moment, if he called me out. These things would never fly in the royal court; you’d never get away with giving the melee prize to an unnamed knight who was dismounted and resigned early, no matter how gallantly he behaved toward his allies, or how well he fought beforehand. At least, not without any hurt feelings or complaints - not that I didn’t hear my share even here. Nor with trying to duel a judge of the tournament, for that matter, before it was yet officially over -”

“She,” Meve interrupted, to redirect his lecture, “How well she fought. And I’ll give prizes in my court as I see fit, sir.”

“Won’t be able to win all of ‘em yourself so easily, there,” he answered, “I thought you had fallen asleep; did I wake you?”

“Resting my eyes only, my love,” she said, “I can hear well enough despite.”

“It’s a fine trophy you’ve won,” Gascon said, examining the ruby-studded ring she’d been awarded with professional appreciation, “What will you do with it?”

“Why, give it to the next swan I come across, naturally,” she said; Reynard almost laughed.

“Say, Reynard,” the Duke continued, as if nothing unusual had happened, “Lord knows I’ve annoyed you hundreds of times, and yet you’ve never thrown me up some stairs. What gives?”

“Did I say annoyed? I meant something else,” the knight replied, with an automatic glance at Meve. She raised an inquiring eyebrow up at him, smiled as he looked cagily away, and made no attempt to hide her gratification at his embarrassment.

“Oh,” Gascon said, with an ironic smirk, tossed the ring to Reynard, and continued, inexplicably, “I get it. Well, I went against Sir Holt in the jousts th’ other day, and I don’t think he’s all that good of a fighter.”

“He knocked you down in a single pass,” Meve noted.

“Exactly; nearly anyone else could have done it just as easily, so it proves no particular skill on his part.”

“Yes, well, I fought him in the melee, and I think he’s more than passing good; you’ve your work cut out for you, Reynard. Although,” Meve added, “I should have beaten him in th’ end, without having to stop and rescue that squire of yours again, Gascon.”

“No doubt,” Gascon agreed, with no obvious sarcasm. “Well, seems you’ve preparations to make, Reynard, so I’ll leave you to it. Don’t stay up too late.”

Thick fog had settled in over the fort by the next morning; the Queen sent dozens of courtiers and retainers on their way before noon, moving very stiffly even to an unsuspecting eye, but otherwise appearing her usual self. The Duke, on the other hand, was visibly hungover and surly on top of it. The Baroness regarded her with a faint, amused smile, but said nothing of note to as she departed; Meve concluded that, probably, the older woman had gotten the wrong idea altogether about her relationship with Gascon, but it was too late to explain, even if she’d cared to bother. The only trouble with her and Reynard’s affair, she reflected, was that its private nature meant almost nobody else had any idea it existed, causing the occasional inconvenience.

She managed the rest of the departures with casual patience. Those few of Gascon’s admirers who were truly dedicated braved his short answers and dull, stupid glare, to no profit - he had no obvious interest in any of the women, no matter what they tried. Reynard watched the proceedings on and off from a distance, saying nothing, but conveniently vanishing during the brief appearance and hasty departure of the red knight. By midafternoon, the last of the visitors were gone, leaving only the lesser mob of Meve’s own retinue. Gascon, who had suddenly recovered from his hangover and moodiness, departed for a conference with the enemy and returned late in the evening.

“Sir Holt’s agreed to fight with th’ usual weapons, but not now. He says he wishes to postpone until some point in the near future; claims that his shield arm is injured from the melee due to a particularly hard hit, and he is, therefore, not prepared to restore his honor immediately,” he reported, helping himself to Reynard’s dinner. Meve smiled smugly.

“So,” Reynard said, yielding over his mostly untouched plate and looking unusually irritated, “There was really no reason for him to interrupt your feast with this nonsense, yesterday.”

“Well, he doesn’t wear that ridiculous red armor because he’s th’ uninteresting but considerate type, like yourself, my friend.”

“I suppose I ought to go back to Rivia Castle tomorrow, then,” said Meve, without much enthusiasm, as Reynard rolled his eyes and Gascon grinned cheekily at him. “Two weeks away from court is, perhaps, a little long; I wouldn’t want them to start getting creative ideas in my absence.”

“I’ll go too; no need to await Sir Holt’s recovery here instead of there,” Reynard said quickly.

“Or you could stay here,” Gascon said hopefully, “Sure, it’ll take a few weeks, but by then it’ll be hunting season, which you shouldn’t miss - boars, should it snow early in the season, deer if it don’t, foxes either way - you’d be home in no less than two months, I figure, when all’s said and done.”

The minor argument that immediately ensued brought Meve to a sudden conclusion; she considered that she wasn’t sure how, exactly, she could have missed the now very obvious reason for Gascon’s moodiness as she interrupted them:

“Gascon, we aren’t parting forever or even departing on a long journey to distant Kovir, only going home, which is a few days’ ride from here at most; you may visit us at any time you choose.”

Reynard glanced sharply at her and then adopted a distant frown. The Duke stared, apparently speechless for once; she looked back at him impassively until he said, “You spend far too much time with that sorceress; you’re acquiring a certain similarity of expression. Have you noticed it, Reynard?”

“No,” the knight said stiffly.

“Anyway,” Gascon continued, “I know all that, obviously, and, well, I’ll be honest: it does feel strangely isolated, out here by myself, after we all spent so much time together before; the two of you have each other, perhaps as a result you don’t feel the same - although don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy for you both; no two people that I know suit each other better - but you’re right, it’s not as if I couldn’t make it to the capitol more often; it’s less simple for you to both drop everything and come all the way here, unless it’s with a good excuse like the tournament. I knew it’d work a charm.”

He ran out of breath on his final, slightly triumphant phrase and stopped; Reynard looked thoughtfully from Gascon to Meve, whose victorious smile had quickly faded to a stunned, slightly hurt stare.

“Perhaps,” he said carefully, “You might have said something about this earlier, instead of delaying and inventing plots, or been less cagey about it all week - in short, you could, generally, have handled this better, but,” he continued, a little louder as Meve opened her mouth to interrupt him, “We’ve all benefited, I think, from this - diversion, one way or another, so no lasting harm done.”

Meve mumbled something under her breath, frowning.

“The next time that you want to get together, however, you might find it convenient to just ask us, without any schemes to bring it about.”

“Yes, of course,” Gascon said, “You’re right. Should I apologize?”

“Not to me.”

Meve shook her head at him, but Gascon said, “I’m sorry, Meve. How do people usually apologize, at court? Flowers? A card? Or I could let Sir Reynard knock me off a horse, like he will Sir Holt?”

“No,” she said, “I can knock you off horses myself perfectly well.”

“I await your summons, then,” he said, venturing a hopeful grin, “Or I could send a fruit basket; we will soon be well-supplied with apples -”

“Look,” she said, finally cracking an amused smile despite herself, “It’s fine; I forgive you. Just - just don’t be such an ass, next time.”

“I will never be an ass again,” he announced, mouthed thank you to Reynard, bowed gallantly, and then prudently departed. Meve stared at the spot on the floor where he’d been standing for a long moment, then sighed, cracked her aching neck and sat in Reynard’s lap, frowning.

“That man is a disaster,” she remarked.

“Do you want me to fight him, too?” he asked; she ran her fingers through his hair and said, fondly, “No, thank you. I don’t think a knock on the head will be of much use, here; Gascon will have to sort himself out some other way, I’m afraid. If he can.”

“And what about you?”

“Me? Well, I’m all right, I suppose.”

Reynard looked up at her, frowning doubtfully.

“Really,” she claimed. “Gascon does have one thing right; having you around makes the more difficult days easier to get through.”

He looked less dubious; she grinned, kissed him, and added, “Although th’ effect might be in part a result of that hit I took in the melee; a knock on the head can solve one’s problems every so often, though not quite so often as it causes them.”

“A good thing your head is so hard, then,” he noted with a smile.

#thronebreaker #witcher #action #romance #sports

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