may you trust in the strength of your own heart. may your trials end in fullest bloom.

Tonight, the quiet, constant moon is the sole witness to your eager steps as you and the king of Joseon hurry down the corridor towards your chambers, your faces alight with mischievous grins. The sleeves of your favorite hanbok billow in the balmy wind of a coming spring, the pink fabric edges worn soft with time. In Yoongi's arms, he cradles a tray, trying his best not to spill the contents of the covered bowls it supports.

"Made it!" You come to a gradual stop in front of a familiar door. Turning to Yoongi, your smile grows as you inhale a deep breath of relief. "I can't believe we actually managed it. We snuck away! And with the janchi guksu intact." You unlock the door, pulling it open into darkness.

"We had to. It's our tradition," Yoongi says as he follows you inside, a corner of his lips quirking up with his easy smile.

As you get to lighting the smothered lamps, he sets the tray down on the first table he sees. Then, as the first glow of flames burns to life—he is behind you, his lips nudging warm, lingering kisses against the nape of your neck as his strong arms draw you against his chest.

"Happy birthday," he murmurs, voice low and intimate. He pulls you in, wanting closer. "The ceremony was lavish and incredible, but... I would much rather be here."

"Jeonha..."

You lean into him, relaxing your body to let him support you.

He was right. The celebration had been vibrant. The seemingly endless plates of delicious food, the long-sleeved dancers moving in perfect synchronization to music played by the country's best musicians. While you couldn't sit with Yoongi and Seong-min on their designated platform, they'd arranged for you to have the best seat on the ground floor. There, you'd a clear view of the entertainment, and of Yoongi himself. You definitely didn't miss the many, many glances he sent your way. Looks so full of affection they made you flush, filling you with the longing to call out to him. Eventually, when Eunuch Kim came to summon you away... you were more than happy to go.

"Did you see how jungjeon-mama kept asking for Guard Jung to bring her fruit?" You ask, recalling the surprised, but pleased look on the soldier's face.

Yoongi laughs. "Yes, it looks like Hoseok has caught her attention. He'll have much to busy himself with soon, I think."

"Good. They both deserve some joy."

"Especially after she forced all of Father's concubines to move again." Yoongi smirks. "I should give her all the gold in the treasury for doing such a service."

You share a knowing look, remembering the deep satisfaction you both had as you watched the prideful women march through the palace grounds, their cheeks pinked with embarrassment. Every single onlooker there had been keenly aware that the consorts were being relegated to a much farther, smaller hall. That'd been a wonderful day.

"Hey... Those women haven't given you any more trouble, have they?" Yoongi asks. Gently, he urges you to turn around, so your eyes meet before you answer.

But he doesn't have to do such things. Not when you've already resolved to be honest with him. Completely, this time.

"Not to my face," you say, bringing your palms to the underside of his arms, scrunching the silk. "They and some others still gossip, but that's all they can do. Their words, rude as they might be, don't mean much when the most important people know the truth." You squeeze his arms tight as you think of the ever caring Eunuch Kim, who had nearly fallen over completely with relief when you confessed the arrangement between you and Seong-min. And Yoongi had given you permission to tell Scholar Park as well, knowing the boy would not betray you after all these years. The young man had only beamed without any surprise, as if he'd known this might happen all along. How lucky you are.

"Thank you," Yoongi murmurs. "For staying."

He says that constantly these days. As if he's afraid you might still run away. How could you ever leave when your home is right here, among the friends you have come to consider family, with the man that has always had your affection? But he has always been one to worry, to fret. Especially when it comes the things he holds closest to his heart.

You kiss him now, wanting any distance between you to melt between warm breaths and lips you know better than your own. He tastes slightly like honey, some remnant from the feast that you lick off with the tip of your tongue in a move so bold, it makes him smile. Slowly, you wrap arms around his neck as you pull him backwards with you, towards the sheets that still hold his scent from the night before.

You eventually fall onto your behind, intentionally dragging him down with you with a burst of laughter as he stumbles. Loses what little composure he has left when his knee misses the bed because he refuses to stop kissing you. God, you love him.

And when he's properly leaning over you, blonde hair falling over his shoulder, a slight pout on his lips, it catches your breath in a different way. "Stop laughing at me," he says, bending to let his mouth drag across your jawline.

"Never."

He rolls his eyes, but rubs the pad of his thumb softly across your cheek in small circles anyway. "I meant to ask earlier, but can your work spare you for some time in the next month?"

You blink, thinking back to your current projects. "I think so. Min-ji has been learning well, so she can take over for me for a while if there are no sudden illnesses. But why?"

"Since foreign pressures have momentarily eased with the treaty discussions, I wanted to pay a visit to the Ganghwa outpost. They've almost finished rebuilding after the last attack, but morale remains low." His teeth sink into his bottom lip, likely thinking of the precious lives needlessly stolen that night. "I want you to come with me."

Your eyes widen.

It would be like a dream—to travel in such a capacity with your king. It is such an important mission for Joseon's people. It would also serve as a formal acknowledgment of the unique position you hold. And the advisors likely could not refute your being there, because Seongmin would have to remain in the court to take care of everything else.

"Please. Come with me."

As if you could say anything other than yes.

"But jeonha! I am not your queen." This time, you are truly joking, your tone kept light so it's impossible to interpret as anything else but a tease. But the look in his eyes sobers your silly grin.

"No," he says, softly, "Merely the only woman I will ever love."

Oh.

Warmth floods your veins when you reach for him, drag him back to your mouth. You want more of him even as he is pressed flush to you, the spark of arousal turning every rational thought in your mind to instinct.

His broad hands are as swift and clumsy as your own as you divest fabric every way possible, forming embroidered puddles on the floor. Somehow it still doesn't feel like enough when his bare skin slides against yours, when he sucks marks onto the tender skin in the crook of your neck. This surging hunger, this raw need in your stomach always startles you with its strength, but you don't have to hide it anymore. You raise your bare leg against his hip, hoping the silent nudge is enough.

"God," he groans, "I have to be inside you." He nudges the firm head of his cock between your thighs so you feel the effect you have on him. How you make him so damn desperate. "I want to taste you later. But for now..."

You clutch him at the first thrust. Hug him against you when he gasps, the sound dragged out of him by the pleasure of feeling you, of being yours. The second push has you falling back against the bed, overwhelmed with how he fills you, his thick cock relentlessly claiming you with every inch it stretches. But what you are truly addicted to is that ultimate push—that ravenous pump of his hips as he buries himself against the deepest, most intimate part of you. "Please, jeonha—"

"Fuck." He stops moving. Sweat dots his brow, matting locks of hair as they hang down, brush against your collarbone. His eyes have gone hazy with affection, even at a time like this. "You're so beautiful." He brushes some of your hair away from your cheek so he can kiss.

But right now, even his kisses are a small act of torture when you so badly crave the friction of his cock being soaked by your lust with rough thrusts. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his body, being completely obvious in a way that makes him grin so widely he shows teeth.

"Can't wait for even a minute?" He asks, chuckling even more when you shake your head. "Alright. Only for you."

Anticipation blooms in your chest as you feel him press his palms into the sheets, the weight around you shifting as he pulls back. Adjusts his knees. Thrusts.

You're moaning before you can even seek air, the pleasure of having him overwhelming all else. No matter how many times you come together, the way you can feel him move inside of you, hear him groan because of you, is always breathtaking. You cling, fingerprints reddening his skin. Every exhale aligns with another feverish kiss he presses to your body. But still—

While he might be properly moving now, he's pacing himself so damn slowly that every stroke is an elongated, delicious tease. How does he have such control over himself when you are a mess of bliss and heat and yearning? Rapture swells when he grinds his hips against your body, but the unfettered ache for something rougher lingers. Especially when you know so well what he is capable of, when he is at his most raw.

"H-Harder, jeonha," you shudder, arching your back into him, "I am— not some brittle thing—" Your voice breaks off into a moan when he brushes against your clit, purposefully repeating the action several times in succession before returning to his slow, drawn out rhythm.

"What's this? Are you issuing me a demand?" Amusement is thick in his tone and all he does is give you another achingly languid thrust, but you see it in his eyes. Hear the shift. Your words activate that harder edge to him; give him the permission he needs. "Have you forgotten that I'm your king?"

"Don't pretend as if—As if you're satisfied with this—Ah...!" You are cut off completely when he lifts your left leg, hooking it over his shoulder as he drives himself in so deeply that fresh tears wet the corner of your eyes. He seems to hesitate at the sight of them but you shake your head, needing exactly this. Needing him.

If only you could capture his expression right now. The drawn eyebrows, the kiss-bitten lips parted in a delirious half-smile that lets rumbling groan after groan escape. His wide hand spreads across your thigh, holding you still as he ruts, pounding pleasure into your cunt. You meet him with your own thrusts, letting him in even more as your hearts beat to the same erratic rhythm.

"So good. So tight for me, fuck." He lets his fingers drop, needing only the two to cover your clit and then, all of a sudden, you're close. Brought closer with every precise, urgent push because he knows you. Knows where every sweet spot lies, the perfect angle to use to have you shivering in climax's grasp in seconds. He pushes, pressures just a little bit harder and when your bliss crests sharp, palpable, and sweet, he murmurs, "let go for me, janae."

And so you do, thinking you will never forget this night. How your name shapes his breathless moans. How he stays pressed inside you when he tips over pleasure's edge and then a new heat floods you full. What you have always hoped for, all these years. Yours.

Janae.

Panting, your king drops his forehead to press against yours.

Neither of you can speak, still riding out the last thrumming aftershocks as you grin like fools at each other. The fingers of his free hand are still tangled with yours. You hadn't even noticed it happen. Just more proof of how tangible love is in this warm, intimate space.

Eventually, he eases back. Reluctantly leaves your warmth for only a moment before he lands beside you on the bed, stretching out like one of the fuzzy stray cats you've seen in town. You giggle as you curl up into the sheets, thoroughly boneless and happy. You want to hold him again, as if you weren't doing that just moments ago.

But when you turn to him, you find only his bare back, the smooth skin scored with the light pink of your nail marks. "Jeonha?"

He's bent over the side of the bed. There is a fumbling noise, fabric being picked up and mussed. "Hold out your palm," he says, his voice sleepy and soft when he pulls back, hiding something from your eyes.

Curiosity roused, you sit up and obey. A second later, something heavy and smooth drops into your hands. You look down, not expecting anything at all but it still catches you off guard to see... a stone.

"This is..."

He smiles. "Your birthday present. Forgive me for sharing the location of our secret pond with Eunuch Kim, but I couldn't go myself."

Emotion steals every last word in your mind as you stare down at the rock, at the slightly wavy lines that seem to fan out like the glimmering scales of a fish. To know that precious night occupies his thoughts as much as it does yours...

Yoongi reaches for your bare wrist. "I wanted to get you another bracelet, but that might have to wait until Chuseok. Since I want to pick it out myself." He eases your arm up, dropping a kiss to the inside of your palm. "Do you remember that night?"

"Of course. So well."

"For a long time, that night felt like the only time in my life I was allowed to be happy."

"Mine too." A habitual ache pricks your chest when you think of mother, and of how damn hard that first year had been without her. But Yoongi and Eunuch Kim had ensured you were not completely alone; their kindness truly saved you then. "Not anymore though." You share a small, warm smile.

"But back at that pond..." Yoongi presses a hand over the nape of his neck. "When we were throwing these stones. You told me that sometimes it's up to luck, whether or not we get what we want. That some things in this world are impossible for us to control."

You nod. You remember how you nervously stumbled through that conversation, your entire body trembling as you feared he was going to understand what you were really implying. But you'd been unable to stop the thoughts, the truth, from spilling out.

"Were you thinking of me when you said those things?"

You nod again. "It has only been you, jeonha. Always."

Still smiling, he lets your arm fall gently back to the bed before reaching for your other hand, which clutches the stone. One by one, he curls your fingers in until they're securely wrapped around cool, solid rock. "Well, I say to hell with that theory."

You suck in a quick, surprised breath at the sudden switch in his tone.

He squeezes his hand around yours. "I'm not some rock to be thrown. All that's between us... I won't leave it to chance. Or fate. Or whatever the hell the world might throw our way.

"There will be more battles ahead. Our people have barely made it through another winter, and I intend to ensure they will do so for the rest of their lives. There remains unrest among Joseon's outer borders. And there is still the matter of those within these palace walls who cannot see how much good you have done, since they're too concerned with the rank of your family. But..." He refocuses his intense gaze on you. Makes you understand just how utterly serious he is when he says, "with this stone, I promise to always fight for you. I won't allow luck to decide if we can or cannot be together. The same way you did with daebi-mama."

At the mention of that fateful day, you feel in hindsight somewhat embarrassed at the way you yelled at the queen, but you could never regret it. You clench down on the rock, knowing Yoongi can feel the tensing.

"In that case... I agree. To hell with my theory," you say as he grins at your rare curse. You press the stone down into the bed as you lean over, tucking your nose against his neck. Like this, his familiar scent envelops you as closely, as securely as his arms do. "From now on," you murmur, "let's make our own fate. Our own happiness."

Tonight, on this moonlit night, you are both distracted by each other's touch for several hours more before you finally turn your attention to the bowls of janchi guksu. Though they have long since cooled, you slurp the noodles down anyway, every bite still warming you from the inside out. "Truthfully, jeonha, I lied that night. When I said I wished for more jeon on the paper lantern. I couldn't be honest then." You think back to the girl you once were. How brave she had been despite all her fears. How hopeful despite the pain the world had already wrought. You're so proud of her. "What I really wrote was... Well, I wished to always be together."

At your quiet admission, Yoongi's eyes wane like crescents. His fond smile is a promise, the soft hand laid across yours a home as he whispers, "And so we shall."

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: the original run of this story on tumblr took me a year and a half to write, spanning nearly 70k words. this is the longest continuous project i've ever attempted and the learning curve was as steep as it was rewarding! it was a pleasure to explore this historical world and bring a story to life that is fundamentally about hope, about believing and trusting in yourself, and about acknowledging that we are all deserving of love--no matter what. thank you so much for following this story until the end. it truly means the entire world to know that i've (hopefully) been able to provide some enjoyment and happiness for you all, especially during these difficult times.

looking forward, i do have some ideas for some follow up drabbles and i'll be eventually posting some of my favorite questions from the game of Ask My Muse i played on tumblr. i don't know when i'll be able to dive back into this world, but i hope it'll be soon 💓 for now, this story will be marked as completed. thank you again for being here!

(p.s. - there were quite a few different terms for couples to call each other during this time. "janae" was meant to represent *wife* and is kind of their equivalent to our "honey." it was mostly used among the commoners/non-yangban classes to convey affection and closeness.)