Loyalty Fears Not
by rigormorphis

Loyalty Fears Not

rigormorphis

Summary

His secrets were collateral. They were a contract, a promise that he would not go back on his word. Her flesh, his soul: when she knew things that not even the King knew, things that could ruin him, they became equal.

Notes

The working title for this fic was "Cuckoldry for King and Country", which probably gives you some idea of the vibes contained therein. Contains attitudes about sex, sexuality, and Lee Hwi's gender that do not reflect the author's own. :') Many, many thanks to bloodletter for the cheerleading and feedback.

And a note: I've stuck with how character names have been romanized in canonical AO3 tags, and for the most part I've chosen to translate titles, terms, modes of addres, etc., rather than haphazardly insert Korean words. The two exceptions to this are that I used the term "jeogori" because the English "overrobe" lacked specificity and sounded clunky to my ears, and I kept the vocative case ("-ah") in dialogue where Lee Hwi address Lee Hyun, because... well, because to me it feels important to their character dynamic, mostly. I hope this doesn't come across as jarring, and I welcome feedback on this!

Imported from Archive of Our Own. Original work id: 45920860.

Chapter One

My task is to carry secret burdens for the world. People watch curiously. Yesterday morning at sunrise for example, you could have seen me on the breakwall carrying gauze. I also carry untimely ideas and sins in general or any faulty action that has been lowered together with you into this hour. Trust me. The trotting animal can restore red hearts to red.

— SHORT TALK ON MY TASK by Anne Carson

Noh Ha Kyung, now.

At least Prince Jaeun's smile never felt condescending. Perhaps it was the boyishness of it? He was half a decade Noh Ha Kyung's senior, a grown man who had seen parts of the world she couldn't imagine, but when he smiled his dimples showed and the years between them melted away.

It was strange. A year prior Noh Ha Kyung would scarcely have been in a position to assess the quality of a man's smile, having had vanishingly few of the species in her life and no real understanding of the ways in which they could make her small. Since marrying His Majesty, of course, her life was full of men and their feelings: her father's worry, Lord Sangheon's disdain, His Majesty's—she understood now—own quiet fear. Most days it seemed that Prince Jaeun scarcely noticed her, but when he smiled at her, at least, she felt as though she had a friend.

Stood in her husband's bed chambers with a man who was not her husband, she confessed her uncertainty, and Prince Jaeun smiled at her. Some small blossom of relief unfurled behind her ribs.

Lee Hyun, then.

What drove Lee Hyun from his quarters that night was the memory of his brother saying that the relocation might proceed more smoothly than planned. The words had followed him doggedly, maddening him, even in the welcome solitude of his evening routine. It was hardly rare for Lee Hyun to miss his brother's meaning, but this wasn't a question of wordplay or allusion: the words were clear, their implications opaque. The air with which those words had been spoken, the distant smile and the distracted tone, had unsettled Lee Hyun. More unsettling still was Lee Hyun's realization that he wanted to speak to his oldest friend, so that they could once again unpack Lee Jeong's meaning together.

Ruminating alone, seeking out Jung Ji Woon: one option was ineffectual, the other impossible. Instead Lee Hyun donned his overcoat and took a walk about the palace grounds. The evening was calm and clear but the fresh air, while cool and pleasant on his skin, elucidated nothing.

Long habit brought his return trip to His Majesty's corridor. On nights when His Majesty couldn't sleep, she often welcomed Lee Hyun's presence as a distraction from the thoughts that burdened her—a service that Lee Hyun provided gladly. But while light indeed shone from beneath the chamber doors, the voice that emerged as he approached gave Lee Hyun pause.

"I won't ask you to explain anything," that voice said. Not His Majesty's, but the Queen's.

An impulse told Lee Hyun to leave, that His Majesty was occupied. He registered it in the same moment that he registered the total absence of servants in the hall. It was common enough for His Majesty to send her servants to complete small tasks while she worked late into the night, but a conversation between the King and her wife was not for others to overhear.

Had this meeting not been planned? Where was Eunuch Hong?

The Queen was still speaking. She said, "I ask only that you permit me to do my duty."

The words were more forceful than Lee Hyun had thought Her Highness capable, but he was close enough to the door by then to hear the waver beneath that resolve; she was putting on a brave face, then. Lee Hyun scanned the hall for signs that anyone might be nearby, satisfied himself that no one else was present. He wondered whether His Majesty could hear that waver too, or whether this was merely another way in which like recognized like, and Lee Hyun's bruised heart resonated with another.

Perhaps His Majesty could hear it after all, for in reply she said, "My Queen, forgive me. I have lied to you."

"I know," said the Queen. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Lee Hyun stood close, too close, to His Majesty's chamber doors. "And I don't care, or... I'll learn not to."

"I don't mean about Scribe Jung." The King's tone was gentle but grave. Not for the first time, Lee Hyun wondered if the Queen knew that once, not so very long ago, the King was famous for her temper. "There is another lie, an older one."

A chill gripped Lee Hyun's extremities. He looked again down the corridor, saw no shadowy figures or passing spies. If the Queen responded, he did not hear it, and after a long pause His Majesty said, "It will be easier to show you, I think."

Rustling cloth. A gasp. Lee Hyun's mind tried to fill in the image, to see what the Queen saw, but he grabbed its reins and disciplined it swiftly.

"How?" The Queen, whispering now. "Or..."

"I'm sorry. For lying to you. And for betraying you."

"Why did you keep this from me?"

"Why...?" Bewilderment threaded His Majesty's voice. "My Queen, I have kept this from everyone."

"Not everyone." Another pause followed. Lee Hyun could almost see the Queen's hand over her mouth. "Your Majesty, forgive me, I did not mean—"

"You are forgiven."

"I meant only... Court Lady Kim must know, surely? And Eunuch Hong? For they were the ones who brought the extra bedding..."

"Yes, that's true. They have both known for a very long time, as has—as did Officer Yoon. They have kept my secret. Scribe Jung is also aware," she added with an air of apology, "though he learned only recently. He is a skilled physician, and I was badly injured during my exile."

"Injured?"

"It's healed now," His Majesty said gently. "As I said, Scribe Jung is skilled. Aside from them... my late mother knew, of course. And Prince Jaeun, he knows." Hearing his title shocked Lee Hyun back into awareness of himself. Here he stood, a member of the royal family, eavesdropping like a common criminal. Where was Eunuch Hong? "He guessed a long time ago, and kept that fact secret even from me."

A familiar bitterness rose in Lee Hyun's throat, self-directed and mocking. It intensified when the Queen ventured, "I can see that he cares for you very much," a fact which His Majesty acknowledged only with a quick, "Yes." She continued, "Apart from the people I have named—and yourself now, my Queen—no living person knows this secret. Can you understand now why I misled you?"

"Of course," replied the Queen. Did she? She sounded near tears. "And of course I won't breathe a word to anyone. Your Majesty, you..." Ah, not near tears: there came a watery little laugh. "I see now why I have not been permitted to bear your heir."

This, finally, brought Lee Hyun to his senses. You should not be hearing this, he told himself forcefully. He took a silent step away, then another, until the voices of his King and Queen faded to an unintelligible murmur. He would find Eunuch Hong and return him to his post.

"Your Highness," Prince Jaeun said quietly. It would, she supposed, be disastrous for him to be overheard; his voice was deeper than the King's. "May I help you undress?"

Noh Ha Kyung nodded and busied herself with her ties, and Prince Jaeun moved to stand behind her and began to unpin her hair. This surprised Noh Ha Kyung: His Majesty hadn't done that, when he helped her disrobe on their wedding night. He had left Noh Ha Kyung to do it herself.

Still, with Prince Jaeun behind her she could imagine that it was His Majesty's expert fingers in her hair. It always felt good to have someone do this for her anyway, even when it was her maid. Her scalp tingled when Prince Jaeun's fingers brushed it, then ached as her hair was released from its tight hold. His movements, while swift, did not pull her hair once.

Running a hand through her braid to release it, Noh Ha Kyung asked, "Do you have sisters, Prince Jaeun?"

"Sisters? No, Your Highness, Prince Wonsan is my only sibling." He lifted her hair gently off her shoulders, spread it out so that it fell evenly over her back.

For a brief, stupid moment Noh Ha Kyung wondered at his answer—how would a son of the royal family learn these things, if not to help an older sister?—before realization crashed over her. Her face burned.

To give herself space to recover her composure, she wordlessly held out her arms. He obligingly removed her jeogori, and once she was confident her blush wouldn't be visible in the low light, she turned to find him folding it carefully over the King's dressing screen. He gestured to her skirts, his eyebrows raised in question—May I?—and, at her nod, conscientiously helped her untie and step out of first one layer, then the next. Normally undressing was routine, unremarkable, at worst perhaps irritating if a new maid made a hash of it, but here the peeling back of layers felt strangely tense and serious. For a moment or two the solemnity of it made Noh Ha Kyung want, horribly, to laugh. Instead, when she was down to her undershirt, trousers, and bare feet, Noh Ha Kyung took a small step back and said, "You too."

It came out sounding more like a question than the regal command she'd intended. She bit her lip and looked away. Would Prince Jaeun think her so naïve as to believe that they—that he might make love to her fully clothed?

If so, at least he hid it well. He said only, "Of course," before calmly removing his own jeogori. The motion drew her attention back to him. Noh Ha Kyung might have felt self-conscious for how she stared, if not for how Prince Jaeun, noticing, gave her another small smile.

How tall he was. It was one thing to know this fact, to see how a man towered over nearly everyone when they crossed paths, but, she was learning, quite another to stand before that man—she in her underclothes, he in his, candles lit, bedding laid out—and look up at the full expanse of him. His chest, clothed in white silk. His shoulders, certainly broader than hers. Those hands. Was she afraid? Yes, she thought, yes, that was part of it. But only part.

"Your Majesty," announced Court Lady Kim, "Prince Jaeun requests an audience."

"Let him enter," came the King's reply.

The doors opened and Lee Hyun was greeted by the sight of His Majesty sat before her writing desk, carefully inscribing what may have been the last few characters in a letter. The brush that Lee Hyun had chosen for her lay comfortably between her fingers. Jung Ji Woon, of course, was positioned at his scribe's desk nearby, and he made what he must have thought was meaningfully cold eye contact before executing a cordial bow. Lee Hyun let his own eyes sweep over Jung Ji Woon and bowed to His Majesty.

"Hyun-ah," said His Majesty with evident pleasure, finishing her last strokes and setting the brush aside. Her wide smile, when she looked up, met her eyes but did not disguise the weary tightness of the skin around them. "I didn't expect to see you until this evening."

"I apologize for interrupting, Your Majesty," Lee Hyun said with another little bow. The King waved this courtesy away. "There is a matter that I hoped to discuss with you privately, and I know that you will have a number of state matters to attend to later."

"Privately?" His Majesty cast a quick look at Jung Ji Woon. From the corner of his eye, Lee Hyun saw Jung Ji Woon bristle.

"I am His Majesty's personal scribe," said the scribe in question. His tone betrayed an indignation that he'd likely meant to hide; he would be embarrassed, Lee Hyun knew, reflecting later on the exchange. "What do you need to tell His Majesty that I cannot hear?"

"I'm curious as well," His Majesty said, far more warmly—though Lee Hyun was pleased to note that she flicked a quelling glance at Jung Ji Woon. "What is it?"

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. Last night I found myself unable to sleep, and I came to your quarters to see if you were similarly afflicted—for old time's sake. Eunuch Hong was absent when I arrived, and as I approached, I briefly overheard your conversation with Her Highness the Queen."

The silence that followed was brief but, for one who knew the King well, eloquent. His Majesty blinked, nodded once, and said, "I see. Thank you. Scribe Jung, you may take your leave."

At length Jung Ji Woon rose, shuffling his scrolls noisily, and departed. Lee Hyun did not watch him go. When they were alone, His Majesty gestured to Lee Hyun. "Please sit. There's no need to be so formal. What did you hear?"

"Forgive me," Lee Hyun said again, kneeling across from His Majesty. "It truly was brief. Only enough to realize that Her Highness had learned the truth."

His Majesty's smile took on a wry quality. "I'm lucky that it was you who happened across that scene, and not one of my grandfather's people. I'll have a word with Eunuch Hong. Thank you for telling me."

Lee Hyun nodded his acknowledgement. "There is another reason that I wished to speak with you."

"I thought there might be. What is it?"

"Last night, outside your chambers. I heard the Queen express her concerns about bearing your children."

Something tightened in His Majesty's face. Lee Hyun hated himself for having caused it. "Yes."

"I apologize if I'm overstepping, but there may be a solution that has not yet presented itself to you."

"You could never overstep." His Majesty's gaze on Lee Hyun's face was searching and heavy. It was arresting, always, to bear the full force of her attention. "A solution?"

Lee Hyun explained his idea. For a long, quiet moment, His Majesty digested Lee Hyun's words.

Finally she said, "I cannot ask that of you."

"Respectfully, Your Majesty, you aren't asking. I'm offering."

"And I appreciate your offer." Did she? The words sounded sincere, but her expression was troubled. "But... Hyun-ah, you're my cousin and my dearest friend. You've done so much for me. There is a limit to the hardship I can expect you to endure on my account."

"The Queen is a beautiful woman, Your Majesty. There would be no hardship."

"Do you have feelings for the Queen?"

Lee Hyun blinked. "Does that matter?"

"Yes," His Majesty said wearily. "Of course it matters."

"I do not," Lee Hyun admitted. "And I'm confident that the Queen does not have feelings for me. But hers are the feelings you should wonder about, Your Majesty, not mine. I would not have suggested this to you if I weren't certain."

"That's true enough," His Majesty conceded with a little sigh. "I'll think about it, and speak with the Queen. There is a strong possibility that she will reject the idea, but I owe it to her to be forthright about this, at least." Lee Hyun acknowledged this with a nod. "And... Hyun-ah?"

"Yes?"

"Before you go. I know it's not my place, but whatever argument is between you and Scribe Jung..." His Majesty floundered for a moment, visibly lost for what to say, and then shook her head. "Whoever's fault it is—and it was probably his, but even so. Would you consider making peace? For my sake, if nothing else?"

Oh, that hurt. And what could Lee Hyun say? Every part of him bent towards His Majesty like a flower seeking sunlight. Lee Hyun smiled. "For your sake," he agreed, "yes. I'll consider it."

"May I kiss you?" Prince Jaeun asked. Noh Ha Kyung, startled, tore her gaze away from his mouth. "I will not take offense if you decline, Your Highness. I ask only because, in my experience, things can feel easier if we kiss."

There it was again. Without thinking, she asked, "How many women have you"—bedded? fucked?—"done this with?"

Prince Jaeun looked at her, in some surprise she thought, and mortification gripped her by the throat again. She opened her mouth to apologize, perhaps dismiss her own question, but Prince Jaeun spoke first. "Four." Then a strange look crossed his face, and he amended: "Four women, and one man."

One...? Oh, her surprise showed for certain this time, she could feel it, widened eyes and warm cheeks, but Prince Jaeun only looked back at her levelly. You? she wanted to demand. He was so aristocratic, so refined. And she wanted to ask, Who?, because her mind was skittering over a series of unbidden images, possibilities offered up one after the other. How did that work, between men? Would Prince Jaeun hold a man in his arms the way he might a woman? More than anything she wanted to ask, Why? Why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid of what I could do to you? But she didn't need to ask. She knew, of course, had known from the moment he'd sat before her and confessed his burden: his secrets were collateral. They were a contract, a promise that he would not go back on his word. Her flesh, his soul: when she knew things that not even the King knew, things that could ruin him, they became equal.

So Noh Ha Kyung did not ask questions. She gathered courage to match his, pushed up on her toes, and kissed him.

She had read a great deal about kissing, of course—everything she could get her hands on, especially once she moved into the palace—but reading, it transpired, could only teach a person so much. Noh Ha Kyung kissed clumsily, felt utterly stupid. She did not know where to put her hands. Prince Jaeun was patient, though. He put one warm hand on her jaw and guided her, slowed her down. He showed her how it was done.

With Prince Jaeun leading it was easier to let go, and before long she found herself in his lap, holding his shoulders, accepting kiss after kiss. This, she thought, this is what the stories spoke of: the pleasant slide of their mouths, the ache between her thighs, the comforting weight of his hand on her hip. She tried to imagine His Majesty kissing her this way, but it was difficult. Prince Jaeun was so tall, the angle was wrong—and His Majesty's face wouldn't scrape against hers like this, would it? He wouldn't have that hint of stubble that scratched against her palm when she stroked his cheek. Noh Ha Kyung tried not to feel guilty for how much she liked it anyway, this sensation that she would never have with her husband.

As they kissed Prince Jaeun unbuttoned her undershirt. When the buttons were free he leaned away from her a little, and tugged the fabric aside to expose her breasts. She shivered under his regard. Her breasts weren't something she'd given serious thought to before, not beyond occasionally wondering whether His Majesty might admire them, but Prince Jaeun's gaze was frankly appreciative and it only intensified that warm ache inside of her. She could feel wetness gathering between her thighs. She tilted her face up so that Prince Jaeun could capture her in another bold kiss, and when the silk of his undershirt slid against her bare skin she thought that they could spend the night like this, just like this, and she would be content.

The Queen was a sweet, kind-hearted young woman, but her deportment was almost cold as she invited Lee Hyun in and urged him to sit. Sternness did not sit comfortably on her. She was, Lee Hyun realized with an unexpected pang of sympathy, trying to be brave.

Pleasantries were made, refreshments served, and servants, ultimately, dismissed—though one maid made a strong attempt at protest, acquiescing only when Her Highness reminded her that Prince Jaeun was family, that His Majesty had requested their meeting; that yes, it was all very proper, and they had state matters to discuss. Lee Hyun attended politely to his food as this negotiation took place, pretending not to notice the faint flush staining Her Highness's cheeks.

At last they were alone. "Thank you for meeting with me," said the Queen. The words were only slightly rushed, already a measurable improvement from the eager and flustered girl who had quizzed Lee Hyun as to His Majesty's preferences. "I understand that you are aware of the purpose for which I summoned you here today?"

Lee Hyun nodded acknowledgement. "His Majesty relayed to you the plan I proposed."

"Your plan, yes," murmured Her Highness. She busied herself with a bite of cake before returning her attention to their conversation. "I have not agreed yet, as I believe His Majesty made plain to you? Good. Well, I hoped that today we could discuss the... the parameters of the plan, so that I may consider it fully."

The words sounded awkward in her mouth, unpracticed or perhaps uncertain. Her free hand twisted in the folds of her skirt. But in the silence that followed she maintained steady eye contact with Lee Hyun.

Realizing that she sought some response from him, he said, "Of course, Your Highness." She nodded sharply.

"You understand, of course, that were I to consent to this plan..." A pause; here she glanced about the room, as though someone might emerge from behind a bookshelf. "The baby—the child—it would be His Majesty's heir. It would be His Majesty's child. You would have no claim to it."

"Yes."

"The child... from the moment of its inception, it would not be yours. There would be no going back on this."

She seemed to find this point very important. "I understand, Your Highness."

"Why did you suggest this plan?"

Why? The question took Lee Hyun aback: surely His Majesty had explained this, or else why would they be discussing the matter? "You know His Majesty's secret," he said slowly and quietly. "And you know more than anyone, I think, that with the rumours circulating the palace it is imperative for His Majesty to produce an heir. While that is impossible for His Majesty, it is possible for me"—a flare of embarrassment; why was he embarrassed of this? This, of all things? He pushed it away—"and I, at least, can be useful in maintaining the royal bloodline."

This appeared to frustrate her. "Don't speak of yourself as though you were some—some prized stallion. Please."

He smiled, entirely in spite of himself. "Prized stallion does seem a bit egotistical of me. A stock horse, perhaps?"

"No!" Her Highness, Lee Hyun was learning, was pretty when she was frustrated. "You're not a horse at all, you're a person. A person who is very dear to His Majesty." A wave of chagrin overtook Lee Hyun's amusement, sobering him as effectively as a cold bath. "I know the logical argument. And I know that you kept His Majesty's secret. At great personal cost, His Majesty told me. But this..."

Realization dawned. "You don't trust me."

The Queen's flush deepened; her brow furrowed over bright eyes. At last she looked away. "His Majesty trusts you. I know that he would never suggest this otherwise. But loyalty is one thing, and to conceive a child and then give it up... why would you offer that? I can't understand it."

Did His Majesty understand the sacrifices made for him? Pressed against Prince Jaeun, accepting kiss after kiss, Noh Ha Kyung found herself wondering this. The King was surrounded by enemies, it was true, but so too did he have devoted subjects, and none more devoted than his wife and his cousin; was he sensible of this? That the two of them were here, in His Majesty's own chambers, was testament to that. What they did together—Noh Ha Kyung shivered thinking this, clutched a fistful of Prince Jaeun's shirt—was treason. And they did it, both of them, for him.

Lost in thought and sensation as she was, she didn't track Prince Jaeun's hand as it traveled from hip to leg and then slowly up her thigh—not until he cupped her through the silk of her trousers and made her gasp. She broke away and hid her face behind her hands—the fabric between her legs must be positively damp, she was mortified—but Prince Jaeun did not heed her embarrassment, and instead pressed the heel of his palm against her mound. Noh Ha Kyung cried out, her hands falling away to clutch at Prince Jaeun's shoulders. With a hand on her neck Prince Jaeun guided her back in for another open-mouthed kiss, even as he ground his other hand steadily against her.

She was overwhelmed. Embarrassing sounds kept escaping her, only partially muffled by the press of Prince Jaeun's mouth against hers, and the pressure against her kept building and building. At some point Prince Jaeun's hand move from her neck to her hair and he held her in place, helpless to do anything but receive his ministrations. Her own hands worked incompetently at the buttons of his undershirt—all she could think was that she wanted skin, she wanted his chest against hers—but she was moving a little too, mindlessly shifting her hips against him. When her thigh brushed the hardness under his trousers, he made an involuntary, stuttering little noise into her mouth.

A yawning tenderness opened inside her. It twined itself around her arousal, deepening to a sort of aching protectiveness. Noh Ha Kyung moved against it again experimentally, and Prince Jaeun hissed, "Your Highness." It might have been an admonishment, were it not for the way his voice caught. Perhaps to distract her, he tugged lightly at her waistband.

In fairness, it did distract her. "Oh," she whispered. "Please—"

Together they made quick work of it, and Noh Ha Kyung found herself half-sitting, half-lying on the bedding before Prince Jaeun, propped up on her elbows and clothed only in the undershirt that hung open on her shoulders. (She'd been rather more focused on divesting Prince Jaeun of his shirt, which now lay discarded.) There was scarcely time to feel embarrassed about her near-total nakedness before Prince Jaeun's hands were on her, gathering wetness from between her legs and then pressing two fingers against her. She cried out a little—the sensation felt so sudden, somehow, even though they'd been building to it—but when she covered her mouth Prince Jaeun gently uncovered it again with the hand that was not working between her legs.

"It may be good if you're overheard," he whispered into her ear, all calm and rational, as though he were not slipping a calloused finger back and forth over the most sensitive part of her. His breath against her skin made her shiver. "It may help with the rumours."

Noh Ha Kyung's mind reeled at that, offering up images and possibilities. Servants overhearing, gossiping about how His Majesty was finally putting his wife to use. Or Scribe Jung, perhaps, put at last in his place. Or—what if His Majesty heard them? What if he was nearby, listening for any sign that he might need to intervene? Hearing instead the ecstatic cries as his old friend attended to his own wife...?

"Kiss me," Noh Ha Kyung demanded, and she was obeyed.

Silence stretched out between them as Lee Hyun considered his options. The easiest response would be to tell Her Highness that he harboured secret feelings for her. Lying was easy, and he was certain he could make it convincing. It risked, of course, her distrusting his promise to relinquish any claim as the child's father, but he thought even that unlikely. The Queen was clearly a romantic, perhaps even more so than her husband, and he could easily see her being swept away by it: she the Queen, he the stoic protector ready to serve his beloved in any way he could, selflessly and endlessly loyal. It was almost true, framed in those terms.

The Queen was nibbling on her food again, still looking away from Lee Hyun. Her shoulders slumped and she seemed almost to be dwarfed by her surroundings: the tall screens, the bookshelves, even Lee Hyun himself. The lie, he thought, would be the easiest and perhaps the kindest way forward. It wasn't any guilt about lying that stopped him in the end—he was well past that—but the memory of her voice when she'd demanded to know why her husband hadn't trusted her. The waver that spoke of a deeper fear, one whose music Lee Hyun also knew by heart: Why not me? Was I not good enough?

Lee Hyun looked down at the table between them and said, "His Majesty told you that I learned her secret a long time ago. That is true. I met her for the first time when I was fourteen years old, and I stumbled upon the truth not long after. For a decade I've kept a secret that not even she knew I carried for her. What she does not know is that, for a decade, I have also been in love with her."

"Oh," breathed the Queen. It hurt. Only once before had he admitted this secret, and then it had been in anger: righteousness had been his shield then, the assured knowledge that he was putting Jung Ji Woon in his place. Now, here, he was stripped bare, and before a woman he barely knew. "I understand."

Only thanks to long practice at holding his tongue did Lee Hyun strangle the bitter laugh in his throat. He said, "Your Highness, please, I beg you not to tell her. I know that I have no right to ask this of you, but I ask you all the same."

"Of course! Of course I won't tell." She made an abortive motion in his direction, her hands fluttering. "Prince Jaeun, I'm honoured that you trusted me with this. I won't breathe a word of it."

"Thank you, Your Highness." He bowed, and only when he came out of the bow did he meet the Queen's eyes again. He was astonished to find them bright with tears. "So you see, there is nothing that I would not do to protect His Majesty."

A few tears escaped the Queen's eyes, but she brushed them away impatiently. "Yes. I see now. And I think that... tonight, when I dine with His Majesty, I think that I will say that I consent to this plan." Her pained smile seemed to pluck at something within Lee Hyun: like recognized like. "At least now I know that we have something in common."

Awkward angles, warm skin against skin. Prince Jaeun accepting her guidance, when she moved his fingers how she liked them. He wasn't quite as expert as Noh Ha Kyung herself—unsurprising given his four times with a woman compared to her numerous opportunities for self-exploration—but he was good, attentive, relentless in the way he rubbed against her. When he slipped two fingers inside her and she demanded a third, he conceded with a smile and another kiss.

"It's so," she babbled stupidly. Her heels slid against the silk bedding, desperate for purchase. With every sound that escaped her she wondered who might overhear, never guessing that it was not her husband who gratified her. "Please. Please."

Prince Jaeun knelt between her legs, touching her heedless of the obscene wet noises their bodies made together, and she couldn't stop staring at him. He was flushed to his chest, his hair escaping from its knot to stick damply at his skin, and a bulge strained the fabric of his trousers. His own attention remained on his hand working inside her, which for some reason made her want to laugh: it was like a skill he was mastering, one he hadn't yet learned by feel. He was handsome and he was focused so narrowly on her, on making her feel good, even though she wasn't the one he wanted. She felt such tenderness for him.

She was close, though. She knew she was close. Every time his fingers dragged against the tender spot inside her, every time the heel of his palm pressed against her firmly, her body approached its precipice. "Keep going," she urged Prince Jaeun, who had shown no signs of stopping, but he glanced up at her and seemed to understand something anyway. He bent at the waist to press one more firm kiss to her mouth, then shifted so that his weight was supported fully by his knees, not by his hand on the floor. He slipped that free hand between them and worked his thumb over her, continuing to rub relentlessly inside her in what she found to be a frankly impressive show of coordination, and her body, at its precipice, found no way to step back.

She tumbled into her climax gasping and shuddering, and Prince Jaeun stroked her through it. Only when she collapsed and shoved weakly at him did he relent, sliding his fingers slickly out of her and leaving her empty and throbbing.

A breathless laugh escaped her. It was loud enough that, if His Majesty were nearby, he would undoubtedly overhear. Noh Ha Kyung pushed herself back up into a sitting position and found Prince Jaeun before her, his eyes dark, the heel of one hand pressed against the fabric over his crotch. Should anyone else have seen him that way, looking at her that way, he would have been beheaded. Noh Ha Kyung planned to relish their shared transgression.

"Your Highness," he whispered, no doubt as cognizant as she of the danger. She reached for the ties of his trousers.

All that remained was for an auspicious date to be chosen for the King and Queen's next night together. The exercise did not take long. Lord Sangheon, doubtless, was eager to put the palace's rumour mill to rest, and certainly no longer did His Majesty's allies pay visits to the Royal Astronomer. The date was set for a fortnight hence.

In the interim, Jung Ji Woon and the King were rarely seen together. A new scribe, a mouse of a man, took over Jung Ji Woon's post. The business of the nation churned on, meetings were held and deals made, and servants, time and again, broke off whispered conversations as they saw Lee Hyun approach.

Only once in that time did Lee Hyun's path and the Queen's cross. He emerged from a meeting with Officer Yoon's replacement to find the Queen and her retinue crossing the courtyard. She stopped when she saw him, acknowledged his bow, and approached to make pleasantries about the fine weather.

It was all perfectly proper, and perfectly in keeping with the the Queen's character. She spoke of the blue sky and the new blossoms on the flowers she had requested for His Majesty's garden. To have ignored him outright would have spoken volumes; Lee Hyun admired her conscientiousness. Only once as they spoke did he catch the Queen losing focus, her gaze drifting downward, fixing on his mouth.

The first press of him past her entrance made her gasp. It hurt a little, as she'd known it would—his fingers were thicker than hers, but even three of them together were not quite so thick as this—but she breathed through the pain, as her aunt had once advised her. As he entered her the pain was quickly superseded by something deeper: a better, duller ache. As if from a distance she heard herself make a sound, some sort of surprised, wordless exclamation. She heard also the deliberate way Prince Jaeun breathed as he paused, partway inside her, to let her become accustomed to the intrusion.

He was being kind to her, she realized. Even in this he held himself back, though his face was flushed and his eyes were closed and his arms trembled, just slightly, under his weight. The thought made her want to cry, but of course he'd take that entirely the wrong way.

Besides—His Majesty wouldn't cry in such a situation, would he? Of course not. Prince Jaeun was so kind to her, even when he didn't need to be. He'd given her what she wanted. Perhaps she could give him some semblance of his own heart's desire in return.

With gentle fingers, pinned under Prince Jaeun's weight, she reached to stroke his face, imagining that it was how His Majesty would caress something that belonged to him. "It's okay," she whispered, and when she felt Prince Jaeun twitch inside her—a curious sensation—she marveled at how easy it was, really, to make a person happy. He pushed further inside her and she made encouraging sounds, her body opening to him. The thought occurred to her that, of the two of them, perhaps it was he who stood the most to lose.

Prince Jaeun fucked her slowly. It wasn't unpleasant, not the way she'd sometimes feared. That initial pain subsided until it was nothing but an afterthought—a short edge punctuating the slow, deep drag—and she soon found herself almost soothed by the gentle rhythm of in and out.

It wasn't supposed to be soothing, or at least she didn't think so, but that was better than painful, wasn't it? It was better, surely, for it to be mild and pleasant rather than unpleasant. Prince Jaeun kept his eyes mostly closed and his weight suspended above her, though she found herself wishing that he wouldn't be quite so polite: she wanted to feel his weight on her, to be covered and pinned down, even just to see what it was like, but she didn't know how to ask.

She didn't know, either, how to participate in the proceedings beyond lying there. Would he be offended if she slid a hand between them to touch herself? She'd heard jokes among men who'd thought themselves out of earshot or else did not care if any young ladies overheard, stories about women who simply lay like dead fish, but how did one avoid becoming fishlike? Should she touch him, speak to him? If it was His Majesty he saw behind his eyelids, would he resent her voice, so much more feminine, for intruding on that inner world?

So Noh Ha Kyung kept her words to herself. She placed what she hoped was an encouraging hand on Prince Jaeun's shoulder, then on the bare expanse of his back. Prince Jaeun moved in her steadily, the sensations kept her at a comfortable thrum, and she told herself to enjoy it and let her thoughts wander.

Eventually, and perhaps unsurprisingly, they lit upon her husband. If His Majesty were, after all, nearby, he wouldn't hear much at this point; perhaps the slick sounds of their bodies, were he close enough, or the occasional rustle of sheet. Noh Ha Kyung indulged herself in an image of him silent at the threshold, straining to hear anything—anything at all—that might illuminate how his friend attended to his wife. She was surprised at the pang of arousal that resonated through her in response. Perhaps he would tug a curtain aside, not enough to be seen, just that smallest amount, and see them there: Noh Ha Kyung's knees bracketing Prince Jaeun's hips, Prince Jaeun's buttocks flexing as he used her. Perhaps—and here Noh Ha Kyung groaned a little, quite unintentionally, and hooked one leg around Prince Jaeun's hip—perhaps he would have trouble seeing her, as small as she was, as much as she vanished beneath Prince Jaeun, and he would twitch the curtain aside further. Perhaps he would risk betraying his hiding place, just for a chance to see her urging hand on Prince Jaeun's back, the line of her throat below his carefully elevated shoulder.

The pleasure was building again, if not to a climax then at least to a lovely plateau. She imagined His Majesty's reaction when she said, experimentally, imperiously, "Faster." Prince Jaeun blinked down at her, a bead of sweat from his hairline narrowly missing one open eye, but he did as she asked, taking his weight off of one hand in order to hitch her leg higher up around his waist. It still wasn't quite enough, but it felt good to be handled so, and she wondered how His Majesty would feel upon witnessing the exchange. Would he be pleased to see his wife obeyed, to see her taken care of? Or would he be angry? But this was, after all, what she had asked from him so many times: the intimacy of this, the pleasure, the chance to be together as husband and wife.

She wondered—gasping again, now clutching Prince Jaeun's waist—if His Highness would resent his inability to give her this, this most base of pleasures. Whether he would ache to watch them together, the way that they, despite everything, fit.

Noh Ha Kyung caught herself just before crying out Prince Jaeun's name, cried instead, "Your Majesty," and gasped Prince Jaeun's rhythm failed and stuttered, driving in and bearing her down. But he must have understood the game she played for passing servants because he buried his face in her neck and said, "My Queen," holding her in place for those last few animal thrusts, apparently beyond all aristocratic restraint. He cried into her flesh again, "My Queen," thrust once more, and then stopped, and shook, and was still.

He waited, on the chosen night, until he was certain that His Majesty would not be present in her chambers. Lee Hyun was accustomed to difficult conversations, but exchanging greetings with his King while he was on his way to bed the Queen sounded too discomfiting even for him. Making his way to the servants' entrance, Lee Hyun felt oddly grim; the atmosphere of the whole endeavour brought to mind nothing so much as the first time he left for diplomacy work in Ming.

He entered to a familiar scene made unfamiliar: His Majesty's personal chambers lit softly with candlelight, all evidence of the day's work stored away, bedding laid invitingly on the floor. (Cotton bedding, he noted: one of His Majesty's eccentricities. She preferred cotton, even in winter.) Stood in the centre of the room, facing away from him, was the Queen. She too was made strange by her surroundings. Her easy femininity was at odds with His Majesty's masculine belongings, the books stacked neatly on his shelves.

"Your Highness," murmured Lee Hyun, and her skirts flared as she whirled to face him.

"Prince Jaeun." She acknowledged his bow with a nod, her hands folded primly beneath her jeogori. "Or... is it strange to call you...?"

Lee Hyun smiled. He didn't think he imagined the way that Her Highness's shoulders relaxed fractionally in response. "I think you can call me whatever you like, under the circumstances. Prince Jaeun is fine. My personal name is Lee Hyun, if you would prefer."

Another nod. "Prince Jaeun, then." She took two quick steps closer to him before halting abruptly. Looking up to meet his eyes—she was such a small woman, the Queen, it seemed she had to look very far up—she admitted, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

For long moments everything else was still, too. Only their slowing breaths broke the silence. She could feel Prince Jaeun softening inside her, though he kept his face tucked against her neck, hidden from her view. She was possessed of a strange urge to pet his hair, to soothe him, though it seemed, thankfully, that she retained at least enough of her senses to refrain from doing so.

At length Prince Jaeun stirred and pulled out of her. Noh Ha Kyung caught herself wincing at the odd sensation of his seed leaking out.

"Does it hurt?" Prince Jaeun asked, mistaking her expression. She shook her head.

"No, it just feels strange." She felt guilty for saying so when he made an apologetic little gesture, but if there was a way to articulate the precise quality of the strangeness—new, but not wholly unpleasant—then Noh Ha Kyung was unaware of it.

Besides, Prince Jaeun was already dressing, looking off into some unknown distance. When Noh Ha Kyung sat up her forgotten undershirt slid down her shoulders. She pulled it back up and fastened a few of the buttons. Her sweat was drying on her skin, she felt strangely cold without Prince Jaeun next to her, and besides, she didn't want to be the only nude person in the room.

Not that Prince Jaeun was looking at her. He appeared utterly focused on donning his jeogori. Noh Ha Kyung wanted to offer to help him tie it, but standing up would only highlight that she was naked from the waist down.

It was all so silly. Mere minutes ago he had been inside of her, closer to her than any other person had ever been. He'd held her future in his hand and she his, with any luck she would carry his child, and now she was afraid to be seen by him, or to say—what? That she'd enjoyed herself more than she'd expected? That she would be willing to try it again with him, if this first effort didn't take?

"Prince Jaeun," she said. He glanced down at her, his hands securing his ties with the same expert movements that had unfastened her hair, and he looked distracted somehow. Distant.

The words she'd meant to say dissolved on her tongue. She wondered wildly how he might take it if she asked whether he was all right.

"Your Highness?" he prompted after a moment. He smiled then, and it didn't seem quite the smile she had become accustomed to, though she couldn't say how. Probably His Majesty would have known at a single look, but for all that Noh Ha Kyung had learned, men sometimes still bewildered her.

Still, he was waiting for an answer. "Thank you," she tried.

His smile did seem to become warmer then, and he gave her a little bow. Clothing straightened and hat in hand, he made his farewells and left her alone in her husband's bed.

The room felt strange with only Noh Ha Kyung in it. But who knew how long it would be before His Majesty returned? She stood long enough to extinguish the lanterns, then slipped into the bedding, avoiding the damp spot on the outer layer.

His Majesty, she thought, could cope with that when he returned to their bed. It was the least that he could do.

The halls of the palace were quiet when he left the King's chambers, the air oddly cool. He suppressed a shiver. Court Lady Kim and Eunuch Hong were, of course, very good at what they did, and no one observed Lee Hyun slinking from a servant's entrance at such an indecent hour. He was alone as he rounded a corner at the end of the hall, alone as he paused in a shadowed alcove to check that his hair was tucked under his hat. He carried on, glad for that solitude.

Stupid to be feeling this way. He, the originator of this plan, a natural-born member of the royal family. For what reason did he skulk away from a liaison like a kicked dog? He had asked for this. He had offered this, and in the moment he'd enjoyed it well enough, had he not? The Queen—it was true—was a beautiful woman. He'd enjoyed undressing her, kissing her. To say he'd liked bringing her to climax was an understatement, and his enjoyment when she'd imagined him as His Majesty had certainly been evident enough.

But that was the trouble, wasn't it? The evidence. Not even after his fumbling first time with the quartermaster's daughter had he felt so acutely exposed. The Queen was, after all, not so very similar to her spouse. He had held her, pleased her, wondered as always what might please his King should it be her before him; then the Queen, gripped by passion, had called him by that same King's title. The King she imagined quickly displaced the one in Lee Hyun's mind, and in the end his body betrayed his feelings to himself and the Queen both.

It was his fault, of course. His own incaution. And—

—too late, up ahead, he registered the approach of a wavering shadow in candlelight. Lee Hyun halted, but there was no convenient place to slip away before Jung Ji Woon rounded the corner and spotted him.

Jung Ji Woon was alone. Lee Hyun noticed that first. He wore his overcoat and had been walking slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. His Majesty was not with him, likely had not been all evening.

The second thing he noticed was that Jung Ji Woon was surprised to see him. The years they'd spent apart had not impressed upon the man the utility of guarding one's expression, and Lee Hyun had long despaired of ever imparting that wisdom himself. Jung Ji Woon's eyes widened when he saw Lee Hyun, and he scanned the hallway with evident confusion; more damning still, he offered no comment, snide or otherwise, as to Lee Hyun's activities. Jung Ji Woon had never been able to keep his nose out of Lee Hyun's business.

So Jung Ji Woon didn't know. His Majesty hadn't confided in him, certainly hadn't whisked him away to some private corner for the duration. And while that could change, while His Majesty might mere hours from now tell Jung Ji Woon exactly what Lee Hyun had done for him, the fact remained that in this moment Jung Ji Woon, the man who knew every piece of him, who had inserted himself into every corner of Lee Hyun's life—in this moment he didn't know.

Lee Hyun felt that private world, the space he'd shared with the queen, crystallize inside him. Here, then, was a piece of him that Jung Ji Woon could not access. The thought gave rise to an unaccountable sense of satisfaction. With his eyes still locked with Jung Ji Woon's searching gaze, Lee Hyun found that it was easy, at last, to nod in greeting.

Jung Ji Woon blinked once, and nodded back. Someone who didn't know him might not even have noticed the softening at the corners of his mouth.