the throne demands so much. is the king prepared to give?
"Go on then."
Across the table, the king settles into a wooden chair, his robes spread imposingly across the arms as if it were his rightful throne. There's a spread of dinner dishes before you in silver bowls, all your favorites, and yet you can't quite bring yourself to eat when he's staring at you so fervently.
"Surely you don't have the time for this, jeonha," you say. "Wouldn't you rather take what you came here for first...?"
He doesn't hesitate for even a moment as he answers, "I am."
You swallow, awkwardly, as you finally pick up the chopsticks, feeling too aware of your every movement as his gaze follows your path from bowl to mouth, as if he's making sure of something.
Ever since you returned to your work after recovering from that day in January, the king has kept you at a distance, yet somehow nearer all the same. The hands that touch you, that take you apart and bring you to noisy climaxes now are seldom rough in the way he used to favor so much; they are instead quietly... reluctant as they skim your skin, to the point of almost fooling you into believing him gentle. Has he grown tired or bored of you? That doesn't seem to be the reason either, not when he is sitting across from you with this strange patience.
But the threat he had said to you those few weeks ago ever lingers in your mind, reminding you of the lines drawn between you, reminding you to keep the fortress stacked around your heart, even if the walls have already been reduced to mere rubble. Regardless, you will try your best to survive. Try to stop questioning if he truly wants you.
"Mm!" You can't help a little noise of delight when you slip a piece of marinated pork into your mouth, indulgent flavor melting on your tongue. It's been so long since you've had this dish that you forget yourself, allowing a wide smile to spread across your lips even in the presence of the king.
Said man merely looks amused. "Good?"
"Delicious."
"I want a taste."
"But there is only one set of chopsticks."
"And? I've seen you eat from them. I no longer fear any possible poison."
He leans forward, an elbow resting on the table. His hand curls under his chin, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly, pointedly opens his mouth. Waiting to be fed.
"I, um, jeonha...!" Your voice comes out a squeak at the end. The king normally wouldn't even eat without a taste tester but even without the threat of poison, to have you directly put food in his mouth! He doesn't give you a single moment to recover as he leans in another inch, looking absolutely cocksure of himself that you will give in.
He would be right.
Carefully, you carry a piece of pork to his lips. He wraps his lips around your offering, lazy and slow. Bites down to pull the piece wholly into his mouth before his tongue darts out, swiping up, lingering across the silver chopstick tips for a long second. But it's enough. It's more than enough to fluster you as your mind leaps to highly inappropriate things, to images branded in your mind of other times you have seen those half-lidded eyes paired with quick flashes of tongue.
The king betrays none of these same filthy thoughts on his face as he chews, though his smile is infuriatingly knowing as you try to look calm.
"Jeonha!"
Eunuch Kim's voice slams into the room with an urgency in the cry that has you both immediately on alert.
"Jeonha, we have trouble!"
Chair clattering to the side, the king throws open the door to receive his eunuch. "What's going on?"
Eunuch Kim is panting as he comes to a stop, hands on his knees as he points towards the way he came. "The gates— The sangmin and cheonmin people— Women are assaulting the palace!"
"Women?!" You repeat, abandoning your meal as the chopsticks clatter down. How could such a thing be possible?
"Yes— Women— The guards don't know how to respond and— Ah, jeonha, you must come with me now, please!"
"Let's go."
The king gathers his robes, you your chima, and then the three of you fling yourselves down the way Eunuch Kim came with haste.
You hear them before you see them.
Noise.
Noise that could be words but are cried out in voices so desperate and hoarse that from this distance, they are but weapons of sound.
And when you are near enough to hear how they scream help, please, help, save us— then you see them. At the three arched entryways that make up the main entrance, the throng of yes, the eunuch had not been mistaken, women! Their numbers overwhelm the guards as they push forward, trying to gain entry, but are forcibly held back from any real progress.
Your legs begin to shake with nerves and fear as you hurry towards them, chest tightening with worry but just as your knees feel weak, the king rushes past you with fury on his face.
"Stop." He goes unheard.
"Stop. STOP!" He finally roars the command and this, all of this, falls absolutely still to his authority.
"Jeonha!"
A few advisors stand behind the guards, and the oldest of them, Minister Kang, wastes not a second in moving to the king's side. His voice is pointedly loud as he straightens his back and proclaims: "These rebels have committed a dire sin, jeonha! They have attempted to storm the castle and have committed a dire crime against the throne and your safety!"
The king does not respond.
Instead, he slowly sweeps his cool stare across the group of breathless women that shrink under his gaze. Only then do you realize that some of them have even brought children with them. Dressed in dirt-matted clothes that are too big on their gangly frames, they cling to their mothers' legs as they avert their eyes. Too scared to even look.
The king motions for the guards to fall back. They're forced to obey, even as they give him looks of uncertainty.
"Why are you here?"
Minister Kang starts again, "as I said, jeonha, they were attempting to cause trouble—"
The king simply holds up a hand. "I asked them."
The minister drops into a bow even as his lips twist into a scowl behind the king's back.
Silently, the women look among each other, urging someone else to step up. They must not be sure the person who speaks will keep their head, if rumors are to believed.
Finally, one lone woman steps forward with her head lowered in respect, bravely moving from the crowd even as her entire body shudders with fear. She manages two steps before she practically falls down to her knees, pressing her bare forehead into the cold earth in a full bow. "Jeonha, please! Please hear us." Behind her, one by one, the women and children follow her example despite the chill of winter.
"We are only commoners. But we are your people!" She has to yell to be heard from this position but she refuses to budge, the need in her tone stabbing deep into your heart. "W-We didn't want to come here. We know we are not allowed to come here, but... we haven't eaten in so many days! We rarely have more than one meal of plain rice a day. We've seen so many families die this season and we... We cannot survive much longer. Please. Please, please, please."
A beat. "This haphazard plan to invade the palace." The king's steely face betrays nothing of his thoughts as he speaks. "What were you planning to do with it? Kill all the guards? Then steal what you need?"
You frown at the sudden, unexpected questions, wondering what the king intends.
The woman seems equally confused as she raises her head, daring to catch the king's eye for one illicit second before she mutters, "I don't know."
"You don't know." He repeats the words, eyes narrowing down. His scowl is practically carved into his lips with how deep it runs. You think his fist might be clenched. "Yet you came here."
"I had to come. We had to come!" Her thin arms shake like leaves, ready to collapse. "We have no other choice. I— I will do everything to protect and save my children and my family, jeonha!"
You don't even know tears are falling down your face until you taste wetness on your lips. The palm you press to your chest does nothing for your scattering pulse, pounding fear with every second for these poor women who have been left with nothing and if you had power, if you had any power at all...
"Jeonha." Minister Kang's very face makes you sick as he pipes up again. "Regardless of any silly reasons, these women, these rebels, should be promptly executed for their crimes. When you give the order, I will happily carry out the necessary and law-abiding preparations."
The king looks at him, as if he's contemplating the cruel, cruel words and you don't know what you can believe. He's taken so many lives. He's sent so many to the execution block already, granting them no forgiveness and giving them no peace but the seasons have continued to slip past your fingers and you thought that time could change things. Thought that maybe the changes you've seen in him, minuscule and fleeting though they are, could linger like your heart ever dangling on his sleeve.
Suddenly, the king shifts his gaze to the other side. Looks right at you, shivering in the frigid air. He takes a deep, heavy breath, white smoke in the air and you pray, please don't kill her.
"...Open the royal storage house."
"J-Jeonha?"
"Open the royal storage house." His voice grows louder, more assured. "Take our barley and grain and distribute it to these women. Enough to last two weeks."
Flustered, Minister Kang nearly falls over from the command. "I— What— How could we do such a thing? It is improper, firstly, to leave less food for your esteemed self, jeonha! And if you give in to their ludicrous demands, the next time they feel the slightest bit hungry they will—"
"Shut up, Minister Kang."
"Oh thank you, jeonha! Thank you! Thank you!" The women explode with relieved noise, bowing over and over again even as their foreheads are smeared with dirt and they can go no lower but they insist upon it, tears of absolute gratitude and reprieve pouring down their matted faces. "You've saved us. You've saved our lives...!"
You think the king struggles to keep his face neutral as he says to them, "this is only temporary. I will find a better solution." Then he levies a vicious stare at Minister Kang. "Take care of it. Exactly as I ordered. We will discuss this further at the meeting tomorrow." Then he stalks away, leaving the Minister no chance to dispute the matter.
Behind him, the voices echo and clamor in gratitude but he doesn't turn back. You stand as frozen to the ground as the patches of pure snow that still cling to gardens, unsure what he intends. But when he has nearly gone past you, he says simply, "Come."
"M-Me?"
"Who else?"
It's a furious pace he leads you at until you're in the darkness, the safety of his chambers, the door slammed shut just as swiftly to block even the last wisp of moonlight. He scuffs his shoes on the wooden floor as he whips across the room, past the chairs and past the cushions until he stops short by his bed. You think he's going to sit, but instead he sinks a single hand into the bedding. Slides down, down, down until he's leaning against the bed, as if his legs have given out just as yours threaten to do.
You're not sure if he'd rather have privacy in such a moment but then he looks up. Looks up with those dusky eyes that have always pierced through you and beckons.
He wants you near him. He wants you with him. You go without wasting even a second. Sink to the floor to meet him exactly where he is.
How easily his arms come around you. Fingers stroke the sleeves of your blouse as if to feel how acutely you tremble from fear, from sorrow, and from relief beneath. You expect him to pull you in and hold you nearer, like he often has these past months without ever acknowledging it. But instead, he pitches forward. Kisses you just once, briefly, chastely, with cold lips. Then his nose is warm as it presses into your shoulder, scraping against the fabric that is starkly devoid of the intricate gold embroidering on his. Every stone in you is crushed to dust, as if you could have ever kept those walls built against him.
You sit together, until the worst of the shaking ebbs.
Quietly, he says, "I didn't know." Words meant for you alone. "That the circumstances... That the famine had grown so..." Sound crumbles on his lips, though the pain in them lingers behind.
You can only reach for him. Squeeze him close, opening to accept more of his weight upon your frame. His hands slide down your arms and you feel how he shivers as violently as you did, muscles aching with the strain of being forced taut for so, so long.
"But jeonha... Are you alright?" It's a question long stuck in your dry throat, held back so many times by the memory of that April night. Yet, now...
This time, he urges himself further into your embrace, and lets his choppy breath blow warm over you. "I'm so tired." A soft confession, whispered into the strands of your unraveling hair.
Though your heart fragments at how small he sounds, how uncertain, you say, "I know." You draw Yoongi in tighter. "I know."