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ateezlibrary · 2 months

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what it takes. (chapter 2/?)

summary: following your mother's passing, the king scrambles to retain power in the kingdom of goseon by ensuring that you are arranged a suitor and wed within a week's time. little does he know, your heart belongs to another that is considered unworthy. how will you navigate a broken heart, an immense loss, and a newfound … friendship, is it? members: wooyoungxreader, mentions of past yunhoxreader

word count: 2,261

genre: ateez royalty/fantasy au, angst, unrequited love, forbidden love, unexpected enemies to lovers

“May I get you anything else, pri—Your Grace?”

You pluck nervously at the lace gloves that creep along your forearms, eyes meeting Yunho’s even in the bed chamber’s dim light. The wedding festivities ended far later than you’d have liked, with endless lines of congratulations and remarks of just how adorable your newborn son-to-be would be as the new face of the kingdom.

He was still adorned in his royal garb, sword nestled in the sheath along his back. You winced at the venom that dripped from your formal title as it rolled off his tongue. You could see the hurt etched across his face, practically hearing the sound of his heart shattered.

“Yunho,” you beg in a hushed plea, feeling suffocated in the billowing white and gold fabric that wrapped around you in layers of silk and gem.

“I’m sorry,” he clips, his voice barely a whisper as he begins to back into the doorframe.

Given your new union to the Gongsam Kingdom prince, you were expected to travel to the allied kingdom in the morning to meet your court to-be and learn more of the logistics in your arrangement. You were familiar with him even before the wedding—Jung Wooyoung.

Over the years, you and Wooyoung had become close friends. You attended lectures together, trained together, danced at balls together. He was as nice as you could expect from a gilded prince, mannerly and well-kept. Though, there was never a distinct charm about him that you could quite place your finger on. Handsome, to be sure, but you would always dismiss the teasing from other the other royal children that he was infatuated with you.

Not to mention, your attention had been immensely swept away in recent time.

With a sigh, you shift from the bed to where Yunho stood. Save for the moonlight that crept through the windows, candlesticks lit the room just enough so that you could navigate your way around. You halt before him, taking note of the way his eyes glaze over at the sight of your layered lace gown and the jewels that hung from your neck.

“You make a beautiful bride,” he remarks sadly, taking another step beyond the doorframe and back into the hall when you grab his wrist.

“Stay tonight.”

Your request urges Yunho to arch an eyebrow, and you swore you saw a smirk dance across his lips before he was once again masked with concern.

“I—I can’t,” he sighs, pressing a hand over yours. “It would be considered an act of high treason to pursue the princess, especially now that—well …”

“That I’ve been sold off as prized cattle?” you scoff, shaking your hand away from his. You were tired of crying, tired of mourning ever since you’d been summoned to that damned throne room. Your voice was hoarse, your face sullen from the sleepless nights leading up to the wedding.

“Prince Wooyoung is a very lucky man,” Yunho remarks after a long pause.

“And what am I?” you ask.

“A little less,” he replies, another solemn smile etched across his face. You watch as nerves prick at his skin, the way he begins to fidget and look around the room anxiously. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve requested a transfer of duty to the northern border, where our guard is stationed in the mountains.” Your heartbeat begins to pound in your ears, the room suddenly feeling too small.

“What?” you manage to get out. The room is spinning, it’s far too hot. You remain frozen, staring back at Yunho with wide eyes in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

“I want you to be happy,” he sighs, taking your hands in his as he continues softly. “You will never be able to appreciate what you could have with Wooyoung if you are too focused on what you have—had, with me.”

Your silence is enough response as Yunho lowers your hands, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead before backing into the hallway.

“I wish you well.”

As the door shuts behind him, you collapse onto the floor with a long, drawn-out sob.

* *

“Welcome to Gongsam, Your Grace.”

The foreign palace guard, dressed in shades of navy and stone, offered a hand to you as you descended the steps of the carriage. It had taken nearly a full day’s worth of travel from Goseon to Gongsam, the journey carried out in a painful silence.

You had kept the carriage curtains drawn for the entire ride, arms wrapped around yourself as you clutched onto one of your most recent letters from Yunho. You read, and reread, and reread, reminding yourself of the pain you inflicted upon yourself by bringing it along. Folding it into a neat square, you tuck it into the satchel attached to your waistband before following after the palace staff.

Guards, handmaidens, and council members dash around you, hurriedly preparing for your grand arrival. Drapings of silver and white hang from towering pillars at the front of the palace, the night’s stars dancing across them. Fountains in the surrounding gardens trickled gently, bushels of hydrangeas and snapdragons dancing across their bases.

The estate was beautiful. Too beautiful.

“Welcome, darling!” You recognize Queen Eunkyung immediately, about to curtsy before her when she pulls you into an embrace. You remain frozen for a moment before bringing your arms around her, fleeting images of your mother’s warmth intruding your thoughts before you pull away.

“We are so excited to have you with us for the season,” she chirps, her eyes dancing like starlight as she beams at you. With a tight-lipped smile, you nod and follow her down the hall to what you assumed were your chambers for the next several months. She tells you stories of their preparations for your arrival, how the kitchen staff were on pins and needles to serve you and find out your favorites.

You come to a halt before a tall, ivory door decadent with silver script and markings. She bows her head ever-so-slightly, an odd gesture from a queen to a princess. About to head inside, you turn back to her with a puzzled expression.

“Thank you so much, Your Majesty,” you begin, bowing your own head in return. “But, where is …”

“Wooyoung’s quarters are just at the end of the hall,” she replies instinctively, pointing a manicured finger towards a door twin to yours. With a final smile, she hurries back to the great hall to continue coordinating the staff for your arrival celebrations.

A deep sigh slips past your lips as you shuffle to Wooyoung’s quarters, exhaustion settling in your bones from the long journey as you rap your knuckles against the door. Almost immediately, it swings open and you freeze.

Standing before you is none other than Prince Wooyoung, in all his darkened glory. A silver and sapphire circlet sits across his forehead, matching the silver of his various earrings. His robes are a deep ebony, mirrored by the kohl smudged at his waterline.

“Well, look who’s arrived,” he drawls, the scent of mulled wine on his breath. “Hello, my darling.” You wince at the sound of “my darling”, knowing it paled in comparison to the sound of “my love”.

“Have you been drinking?” you scoff, watching as he sways to lean against the doorframe with a lazy grin.

“Care to join me?” he offers, arching an eyebrow suggestively. “We still need to consummate the marriage, you know.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why the sudden shyness, princess?” he slurs, turning to stroll back into his room and leaving you to follow. His bed sits at the center, disheveled linens and strewn glass bottles hiding its frame. “We’ve been friends for so long, I know you’re no prude.”

“And I know you’re no drunkard, but here we are,” you chide cautiously, his intoxication leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong?” He laughs, arms thrown out as he does a twirl before you. “I’m celebrating, something you should also be doing.” Staggering to the dresser at the far end of the room, he returns with a fresh bottle of plum wine. He juts it out at you expectantly.

You furrow your brows at him, confused as to how this could possibly be the mild-mannered, cheerful Wooyoung you’d spent so many years with. He was flirtatious, fun, and a bit crude, to be sure, but he had never been one to lose his demeanor like this.

Despite your intense focus on Yunho during the ceremony, you knew Wooyoung was still a well-trained prince and knew all the right things to say—to your parents, to your guests, to you.

Who the hell was this?

“I’d rather not,” you repeat, more sternly this time. “I just wanted to say hello before I retired for the night. Seemed like the polite thing to do.”

“Ever the people’s princess,” he continues to slur. You hadn’t even noticed when he’d cracked open the new bottle of wine and already downed a good third. “Tell me—do the people know you were fucking your guard? Because, we all did.”

“Who’s all we?” you snap, anger churning in your core. You had no idea how he could have possibly known about Yunho. Hatred blinded your vision, blurring Wooyoung’s smug expression beyond your tears.

“People talk,” he replied simply, a shrug as he fell back onto his bed.

“And you will not,” you bark at him, instinctively pressing against your thigh where the folded letter sat. “It’s in the past.” Whether or not you were lying to yourself, was for you to decide.

“Is it, darling?” Wooyoung suddenly growls, appearing sober as ever as he approaches you. His eyes are hazy, yet you can still make out the resentment in them. “Because if I recall, you didn’t look at me once during our wedding.”

You stilled, his revelations throwing you for a loop ever since you set foot in his room. Perhaps it was a mistake to try to be civil with him, after all, considering he’d already decided his emotions towards your arrangement.

“And you’re telling me you wanted to marry me?” you retort, mere inches between you at this point. You can see the hurt reflected in his face, that he wanted this no more than you did. You’d heard rumors of his own scandalous nights with other women, of how he showed no distinction to handmaidens or duchesses that left his bedroom in the early hours of the morning. “I thought we were at least friends.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, both of you glowering and fighting to suppress your own hurt in response to your union. Wooyoung’s chest heaved with the deep rhythm of his breaths, nearly matching yours as you silently took in his features. Undeniably, he was beautiful.

But there was nothing beautiful about the way this conversation was going.

“Good night, Wooyoung,” you say finally, turning on your heel without a second glance at him as you slam the tall wooden doors behind you.

The next morning, you woke up with the expectation that your handmaidens were waiting to draw you a bath, Yunho stationed outside of your door to guide you down to the great hall for breakfast. The sight of cerulean walls that looked nothing like your sage green at home quickly stirred you from that daydream.

With a groan, you kick the sheets off of you and press a hand to your temple. Faint flashes of the conversation from the night prior with Wooyoung come to mind, causing you to groan and roll your eyes.

What an absolute ass.

You were still dumbfounded as to how he had managed to treat you more differently than you could imagine in the years that you’d known him. Last night, he was nothing like you’d ever seen of him. Even at royal balls, you’d shared a drink or two and spend the night giggling with one another, pointing and laughing at gaudy gowns and too-high hair.

Speaking of balls.

“Your Grace?” A faint knock at the door captures your attention and you compose yourself, letting in the handmaiden. “The Queen has sent word that there will be a ball this evening to honor your arrival. She has arranged with the palace seamstress to deliver several of her gowns for you to try on and adjust, if need be.”

“Thank you …” you trailed off, expecting her name. She blinks back at you diligently, and you wave a hand trying to prompt her. “… your name?”

“Ah!” She bows in apology, giving an apologetic smile. “Haneul.”

“Haneul,” you repeat. “Lovely to meet you.”

“I—Thank you, Your Grace,” she stammers, quickly taking her leave. You peer around the edge of the doorframe, down the hall to where Wooyoung likely still slept. Should you go ask him why he was so extreme yesterday?

No, you knew the answer. He despised this arrangement as much as you did, no matter how good of friends you were in the past.

How did he know about you and Yunho?

Without even thinking further about Wooyoung’s suspicions, your mind raced towards your love. Was he faring well at the northern border? The mountains were awfully cold this time of year. He was likely overworking himself, more than any of the other guards stationed at their base. You knew him well enough to know that every time he’d been upset, he would work himself to death.

You sigh again, shaking the hurt that crept up your throat and returning to bed where his last letter lay.

* *

Wooyoung was not at breakfast.

You also saw no sign of him throughout the day, not on your walks through the palace nor when you let in the seamstress to choose your gown and ready for the evening. Queen Eunkyung commented during one of your walks together that Wooyoung was delighted to have company in the palace, making you wonder just how well she truly knew her son.

The front courtyard was bustling with guests and palace staff alike by the time you descended the palace stairs, grand chandeliers hung from the branches of willow trees and long tables covered in dishes of meat, bread, and dried fruit. At the center, partners danced and spun to the tune of the palace band. The King and Queen of Gongsam sat below a canopy of wisteria, two thrones brought to the yard for the occasion.

“Evening,” a voice called from beside you. Turning on your heel, you met Wooyoung’s gaze before it trailed over the silhouette of your gown. He looked dashing as ever, a neatly fitted ebony suit with the circlet sat upon his head. His hands remained in his pockets, bracing him as he leaned against the banister that led to the staircase before you.

“Hello,” you quip, waiting to see if he’d acknowledge his unusual behavior from the night before.

“There are the newlyweds now!” The king and queen call from their thrones, causing the room’s heads to turn towards you at the top of the stairs. Subjects of Gongsam bow and cheer at the sight of you, Wooyoung falling into his role as the beloved prince with a sickeningly sweet grin as he puts an arm out for you to hold.

You scoff, pushing past him and descending the staircase yourself. The crowd barely notices the tension between you, pointing out how they loved your gown and sharing congratulations on your joyful union.

You look back to the top of the stairs where Wooyoung remained, just barely noticing how his jaw clenched at the sight of you.

Joyful, indeed.

#fic: what it takes #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez #atiny #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #yunho x you #yunho x reader #angst #smut #enemies to lovers

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ateezlibrary · 3 months

Text

what it takes. (chapter 1/?)

members: wooyoungxreade, with mentions of past yunhoxreader

word count: 2,030

genre: ateez royalty/fantasy au, angst, unrequited love, forbidden love, unexpected enemies to lovers

notes: also cross-posted on ao3 (babysnooby). kicking off with the prologue of a chaptered fic! will be more wooyoung-centric as we go, but an angsty yunho moment. :-(

prologue.

“Your Highness, which of the fabrics are you most drawn to?”

“Hm—?” You raise your nose from the book nestled between your fingertips, pages tattered and turned at the edges. Handmaidens bustled around you, hurriedly scurrying from one end of the grand hall to the next as they joined the palace staff in arranging the decorations for the next day.

Your eyes gloss over the decadent draping that slides down slick marble walls, the florals being hauled in bucket after bucket to crawl the pillars alongside vines. It was a beautiful sight, more than you could have ever dreamed for your wedding to be.

“Your Highness?” the handmaiden repeats gingerly, nudging both fabrics in her hands towards you in emphasis.

You look between the soft sage and the ivory, barely registering the colors before gesturing to her left hand.

“The ivory,” you reply simply, setting aside your book with a sigh before feigning a smile. “I think it would look lovely in the afternoon sun.”

As she returns to her duties, you glide across the polished marble floors to the far end of the hall where late afternoon sun billowed through grand windows. Lavender and gold trail behind you, the fabrics coming to a halt far beyond your ankles in a long trail of silk. In the gardens below, you chuckle at the young stable boys running through hedge mazes with gleeful threats of catching one another.

A handmaiden runs after them, losing her own footing in the maze and tumbling into a nearby shrub. The sight makes you burst into a fit of laughter, the first that’s left you since you’d found out about … well, about the arrangement.

* * *

“You asked to see me, Father?” you call as you enter the throne room, royal guards posted at each end of its perimeter.

The elder man sits in his gilded throne, fingers clasped around the velvet and oak arms as he peers down at you. An equally opulent crown sits atop his head, the gems embedded in the center nearly blinding you in the morning sun as you shuffle down the rugs at the center of the room.

“Hello, my dear,” he chirps back, though there is a noticeable weariness in his voice that slows your pace. “Thank you for joining me.” You come to a stop at his throne’s feet, a customary curtsy following soon after. You look at him with bright eyes, failing to understand why his mirror yours with an immense dread.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately, wasting no time in calling upon his iffy demeanor.

“I—Why must something be wrong for me to call you?” he stammers, tripping over his words.

“Because you never summon me to the throne room unless someone is dead. Or dying,” you add, crossing arms over your chest with an arched brow.

“I—” The king pauses, choosing his next words carefully as his voice lowers. His gaze shifts to the men stationed around the room, a silent order for them to leave you two in privacy as they shut the grand oak doors behind them.

“My dear, I have a grave favor to ask of you.” You nod once, ignoring the quickening of your heart in anticipation.

“Do you love this kingdom?”

“Of course I do,” you answer nearly instantly, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“And you understand that with loving a kingdom comes a great sense of responsibility towards your kingdom.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat.

“I am not getting younger,” your father begins, sinking into the velvet of his chair with a weary sigh. “And after your mother’s death, I fear for this kingdom’s lack of an heir.”

You glower but remain silent. The Kingdom of Goseon held a longstanding patriarchal tradition and refused you a claim to the monarchy without a rightful husband. You fought tooth and nail against the custom, even before your mother’s passing, to no avail. It took years of accepting the defeat and a great deal of mental preparation, yet the expectation still hit you like deadweight.

“I wish to have you wed in a week’s time.”

“A week?” you scoff, anger pricking beneath your skin. “I’ve spent longer time deciding what to wear to balls than I am to choose a husband.”

“No matter,” he replies coolly. “That’s why I’ve taken the liberty alongside the royal council to choose a suitor for you.”

“You must be joking.” Your father was a stickler for tradition, but allowed you even the most limited freedom.

At least, until now.

“This is a duty to your country,” the king orders. “Goseon requires a strong lineage to advance into the next century with the type of power we have in these lands. I cannot wait longer.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Your voice is barely a whisper, yet it still cracks as you look up to your father with tear-brimmed eyes. “A vessel to bear your next heir?”

“I cannot fight tradition. And I cannot let our people suffer.”

“Yet, you can let me suffer.” The king calls your name with a sigh before you cut him off, turning away from him and heading for the doors at the far end.

“I will do what it takes for our people. Not for you, but for our people.” * * * Seven hours.

From the pocket watch that dangled off of the string of pearls nestled at your waist, you could tell it had been seven hours since the life-altering conversation with your father. With your king.

Seven hours since you had escaped to the neighboring woods at the edge of the palace grounds, your horse neatly tied to a tall pine tree as your sobs dissolved into the forest air. You watched as the sun slowly crept towards the lands in the west, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you sobbed and sinked further into the soil.

“My love.”

You gasp at the familiar voice, grappling with the fabrics settled around you as you ran into your lover’s arms. His familiar scent of cypress and sandalwood envelop you as you sob into his chest, his grip tightening around your waist.

“You received my note,” you sob in between gasps of air. His hand creeps to the small of your back, rubbing in soft, gentle circles. “Yunho, I am so sorry.”

You pull away just enough to meet his gaze. Though his features were unusually rigid, you could see the heartbreak in his eyes as he looked down at you in silence. The tailored fabrics of his noble robes whipped behind him in the wind, intertwining ever-so-often with the lavender of your gowns.

“You did absolutely nothing wrong,” he replies softly, the weight of defeat injecting his tone. “You are doing what this kingdom needs. You are going to be a remarkable queen.”

“But who am I, if not with you?” you sob, burying your face into his chest once more.

His warmth continued to cloak you as you sunk back onto the earth, his long legs folding as he found a seat beside you. For just over a year, you’d found solace in Yunho. He was one of your mother’s closest royal guards, young but remarkable enough to protect the kingdom’s most precious jewel. After her passing, Yunho’s duties had transitioned from the queen to safeguarding the princess.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to nearly a year. What began as customary oversight of your every move turned into a confidante for escapades to the kitchen at night, a secret-keeper for your trips to the neighboring woods and bubbling brooks. Yunho was strict, unwavering in his duties to the crown and his sworn oath to protect you.

All it took was one night of too much mulled wine and confinement to your chambers after a heated argument with your father for your confessions to Yunho to spill over. Ever the gentleman, he still ensured you made it to bed safely and had plenty of water and dried fruit the next morning to nurse your headache. But, something shifted that day.

Yunho became more forward in his time with you. The occasional compliment, the sheepish glances when he was at attention in the throne room beside your father for court sessions.

“Have you ever been in love?” he’d asked one day, his question out of genuine curiosity.

“I don’t think so,” you’d confessed, mulling over the question intently. “You may be the closest thing I’ve ever had to someone I truly love that isn’t my family.”

“But you have so many friends, so many allies,” Yunho had remarked, pointing out your royal crowd from neighboring kingdoms and the like.

“They are wonderful,” you’d remarked. “But they are not here when I am crying myself to sleep. They are not here when I am running through these forests, free to breathe in fresh air and feel the earth between my toes. They are not here to—” You’d stopped yourself, your cheeks flushed before continuing with your suggestion.

“To…?” Yunho had teased, closing in on you against the bark of a towering cypress tree with a gentle laugh. Your cheeks grew rosier, your gaze meeting the ground before he lifted your chin with a finger. “Tell me, princess.”

And now, in the same forest he’d held you and kissed you and danced with you, he was nursing your heartbreak. For you, for him.

“I am so sorry,” you wail, the sound carrying through the forest as the sun continued to creep below the earth. Yunho sighed, his hands unmoving from around your waist as he pressed a gentle kiss to your hair.

“It’s not your fault I was not born noble enough,” he scolds softly, a painful smile gracing his lips as he brushes a thumb across your cheeks to wipe the tears that cascaded down your face. “Else, these may have been tears of joy.”

“I am so sorry,” you whisper, unsure of what else to say to convey the absolute gut-wrenching pain that settled in your core. You look up at Yunho, his own eyes glittering with tears that refused to fall. He gives you another smile that sends you into another fit of sobbing, knowing that he was struggling to stay strong to console you.

“I wish it could have been you.”

“Hey, look at me,” he chides, pressing a palm to your cheek. “It will always be you. In this lifetime and the next. No matter who is beside you when you ascend that throne. I am sworn to protect you. Love just happened to become a part of the deal that I was unaware of.”

You shake your head silently, blinking through the tears settled at your waterline.

“I am sure that whoever is expected to be our next king, will be an incredible gentleman that will make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Only, he won’t have to hide it from the world.” Yunho presses a despondent kiss to your lips, cradling your face between his hands.

The warmth that thrums against your veins pushes you further into his embrace. You wrap your arms around the neck of the man you love, the man that saved you from solitude. His hands tighten at your waist, fabric cinched between his fingertips as he brings you closer to him. It’s not a moment later that he pulls himself away, sorrow dripping from his words as he looks down at your obvious dejection.

“We should return.”

* * *

“Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Your eyes bore into Yunho’s beside the wedding party seated at the front of the attendees. He was dressed in emerald and gold, the kingdom’s colors, in the finest royal guard garb. His dark hair swept just above his brow, his eyes darkened as they met yours in utter defeat.

You barely register any of the guests and the man standing beside you at the front of the hall.

Looking at Yunho, you utter a final, “I will.”

#wooyoung #yunho #jeong yunho #jung wooyoung #ateez #atiny #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #angst #fantasy #royalty #au fanfiction #au #chaptered #romance #ateez x reader #ateez x female reader #atz #fic: what it takes

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