Chapter Text
Seoul’s summer season opened with a sizzling headline: King Jaewon Abdicates Amid Misused Funds; Queen Hyerin to Assume Head of State Ceremonial Role.
The past month served a flurry of news, starting from Prime Minister Lee Sanghyun’s inquiry and a subsequent investigation led by the National Assembly’s Ethics Committee, to the findings that showed how the Kingdom of Korea’s figurehead misused some public funds allocated to the Royal Household, to his eventual abdication.
What followed was an unprecedented move in the history of their nation: a Queen assuming the lead sovereign role, as advised by the Royal Council and as approved by the National Assembly.
Traditionally, the wife of the King was relegated simply as the Consort, with no real power or influence. But, as the woman formerly known as Kim Hyerin has proven in her years beside His Majesty King Jaewon, she is a woman who knows how to navigate a crisis with a sense of duty and grace.
But while the new Queen is a picture of dignity, there is still a good chunk of the country wary about trusting the royals, and understandably so.
As one of their subjects, Park Jimin would say he sympathizes a little with the Royal Household, but honestly, the mess has been good for his business.
Because while the news eventually died down and the crowd around Gyeongbokgung thinned out in the past few days, his little flower shop along Samcheong-ro, standing between the palace and Bukchon, is still receiving more than the usual foot traffic in the neighborhood.
His flowers and his art are getting the spotlight they deserve, his bouquets finding their way to the hands and hearts of those who need a little light in their day. That’s what he wanted to do when he brought 빛꽃 to life: a humble flower shop that sells living art and healing keepsakes.
Currently, Jimin is putting together a basket arrangement that symbolizes strength and new beginnings: some early blooming purple gladiolus that goes well with the last of his special shipment of pink proteas, thrown in with some white statice as filler.
As a finishing touch, he picks an artwork he painted the previous afternoon, an attempt at sumukhwa, or inkwash painting, that features green mountains dressed in the promising glow of a new day. On the back, written in simple handwriting: you have the strength to move mountains.
That’s what makes his bouquets special: flowers, arranged as handheld or in baskets, all come with a small card of artwork and a message or a quote on the other side, bringing a tiny spark of inspiration and healing to those who receive them.
The woman pays for the bouquet, and Jimin notices her media badge attached to her shoulder bag. “Oh! Are you in the neighborhood to cover news?”
“Just exploring. That recent news cycle was tough, so I never really got around to checking out the neighborhood,” The woman gestures around. “I got lucky that I stumbled upon your beautiful shop! Do you paint these artworks too?”
“I try to paint daily so I have a stack ready whenever someone orders a bouquet,” Jimin pulls out his box of mini paintings. “I just paint whatever speaks to me, but I do have some themed artworks that correspond to a feeling or a common event. Do you have any message or mood in mind for this bouquet and this recipient?”
She looks thoughtfully at the mini artcard and the complementary quote, “I think this fits perfectly, it’s something my dear friend would appreciate. Do you also supply flowers for events? I feel like this concept would fit a wedding.”
“I’m not able to, since I run everything on my own. So unless you visit my shop or send a message to order via Instagram, there’s no other way to get my bouquets to you,” Jimin hands over a business card. “I do random flower drops each month though. I leave them in public spaces for people to find.”
“Huh, I think there’s a potential for a story here,” The woman has a faraway look in her eyes, but snaps back to reality, smiling at Jimin. “I don’t do lifestyle stories these days, but let me pitch this to my colleague.”
“Thank you! That would be wonderful, but no pressure at all,” Jimin bows respectfully. “I’d be happier if you come by and get more flowers again.”
“Oh, absolutely. I love what you’re doing here and I’m definitely getting one for myself next time,” she gestures at the door. “I have to get going, but do you know if there’s any decent coffee shop nearby?”
“The record store to my right doubles as a café. Get the einspanner and tell them Jimin sent you.”
“I’ll do that then. Thank you, Jimin-ssi, have a great day!”
♕❀♕❀♕❀
Like a cosmic twist, the floral arrangement finds its way as a centerpiece on Her Majesty’s dinner table. She sits in her former residence, Gyotaejeon, which now primarily serves as her personal area, a place where she receives visits from family and friends.
A couple of weeks ago, it was where she rested and relaxed. A place for her to be herself, where she read books, ate chocolate, and yes, watched her guilty pleasure dramas. She’d come out to have tea at the garden between her residence and her husband’s, where they often talked, not as King and his Consort, but as husband and wife.
She still has no idea where it went wrong — and perhaps, that’s where the issue lies.
In the past few weeks, she hasn’t found the time to fully grasp what was happening: the Royal Council and the National Assembly pushing for the King to abdicate, then in the same motion, pushing for Hyerin to replace him. She became a Queen overnight, moving across the garden from Gyotaejeon to Gangnyeongjeon, “promoted” to a role that has never seen a woman before.
She also lost her husband to Suwon, where he’s laying low and quiet, repenting his mistakes. She hasn’t reached out, and does not want to, at least until she has processed her emotions.
Hyerin supposes now is the time to lean in to family, for support. As a mother though, she cannot fathom showing her weak side to her sons, even if they’re both adults now.
Seokjin, her eldest and heir apparent, has his own family, living with his wife Eunha and their daughter Nari up in nearby Changdeokgung. Eunha is carrying another child, further securing their future and their lineage. Seokjin, mild mannered and responsible, is the picture of a perfect heir, but has been understandably focused on his growing, young family. In recent years, Hyerin has suspected Seokjin, if given the choice, will choose his family over the Crown.
Which brings her to: Taehyung, her second born, living alone in Changgyeonggung. Thirty and unmarried, her youngest keeping his soft heart behind a steady, stoic facade. Taehyung has been dependable too, remaining free of scandals, with the exception of that ex-lover everyone warned them about. Hyerin knows at the end of this dinner, Taehyung will walk away with another duty on his shoulders — one that he will bear silently, but also proudly. He is his mother’s child, after all.
Taehyung steps in the dining hall, bowing lightly for Her Majesty.
“Mother,” hw hesitates, but eventually leans in to kiss his mother on the cheek. Polite, but somewhat perfunctory.
“Come and sit beside me, Taehyung,” Hyerin gestures the chair next to her. Like clockwork, the staff move around them in an almost choreographed fashion: the chair is pulled for Taehyung to sit on, glasses are filled with water and with wine, tableware covers are lifted to reveal their meal.
“Hmm, this looks good,” Taehyung says appreciatively, and Hyerin could almost see the playful, young boy that he was, when he had his bread cheeks and ears that seemed too big for his face. The Taehyung of today now looks regal, sometimes somewhat untouchable, having grown into his features and carrying it with poise.
“Had a long day?” Hyerin begins, feeling for a way in to drop the news. To request something from her son.
“The usual. The Royal Council meeting dragged on and on, lamenting how the public is disappointed in the Crown. That we need to take action and restore the people’s faith in us, before it fully slips away and we become irrelevant,” Taehyung slices his food with precision, then looks up to his mother. “I’m assuming this is why I was summoned for dinner on a random Tuesday, and not the usual Fridays for family dinner.”
Hyerin treads with care. “You’re right. I would have had Seokjin here too, as this is a family matter, but Nari has been fussy lately and Eunha is adjusting with her pregnancy. And your father… well, we would not be here if it wasn’t for what he did and for what happened.”
“It’s been a long few weeks,” Taehyung says dryly, mouth quirking up in a rueful smile. Takes a deep breath, steeling himself. And then: “What do we need to do, Mother?”
“I met with the Council over the weekend. They believe there’s nothing more I can do beyond giving my blessing and arranging this,” Hyerin sighs.
“This meaning?”
Hyerin glances at the bouquet, at the card painted with mountains facing a sunrise and the message, you have the strength to move mountains.
“The Council asked me to arrange a marriage for you. Not just any marriage, but a marriage between you and a commoner,” Hyerin says gently. “They believe this will soften our image, a way to build a bridge between the monarchy and the people.”
She gives in to sentimentality, reaching for her son’s hand. “The people love you and have always been fond of you. You’ve grown into someone trustworthy, someone safe and reliable for them. As your mother, you know I would never impose and force you to do what the Council asks. But as your Queen, I know you understand duty as much as I do.”
Taehyung takes a sip of his wine, shoulders tensed and forehead creased with tension. He remains quiet, like he’s coming to terms with what he has to do.
"Who?" An important question, the only one he can think of after the unusual request.
“The Council handpicked some candidates. I didn’t have a candidate in mind until yesterday, when I received these flowers from a friend,” Hyerin’s eyes flickered back to the floral arrangement at the center of the table. “Park Jimin. He’s a florist who owns a flower shop across the palace.”
Taehyung turns to the flowers, surprised. “He made these?”
“Yes. My aide says Jimin handles the floral arrangements himself, from selecting the flowers to painting the artwork and picking the words to go with them.” Hyerin slips the artwork to Taehyung. “Beyond someone representing the people, or being suitable for the role of a Consort… I think he would be a good match for you, darling. He seems kind, gentle. A different kind of good, perhaps one that we need in the Palace.”
Taehyung touches the painting, brushing the strokes of vivid greens, golden yellows, and bold oranges on cardstock. He glances back up at the bouquet, its purple and pink hues standing out in his mother’s dining hall.
He doesn’t know anything about flowers other than they look pretty. He’s sure he has encountered hundreds of them in his lifetime: on tables at state dinners, in the vase placed strategically at his office, the shrubs outside his residence. He hasn’t given them any thought, any second glance, nothing more than a mere decor fading in the background.
But maybe it is time for him to pay attention. For him to experience something different and colorful, maybe something beautiful. Even if it will be within the boundaries of his duty as the Crown Prince. Even if he did not ask for it.
“I’ll meet him,” he finally says.
Hyerin smiles softly, recognizing the resolve in her son’s voice. “Good. I’ll set it up this week, after I speak with him myself.”
For a moment, The Queen and the Crown Prince fall into a quiet understanding, letting Taehyung’s agreement settle over them. Taehyung looks outside the windows, noticing for the first time the delicate flowers growing in his mother’s garden and the way the setting sun spills across them.
♕❀♕❀♕❀
Jimin’s life changes on Wednesday morning, precisely an hour after he flipped the open signage on the front door of 빛꽃. He was tending to the red and magenta zinnias on the front window’s shelf, when a sleek black car bearing the national flag and the royal banner parked in front of the shop.
A tall man stepped out, entered 빛꽃 with a polite, dimpled smile, and introduced himself as Kim Namjoon, royal advisor.
He didn’t need to say anything else as he handed over an envelope embossed with a Rose of Sharon pattern, the flap sealed with Her Majesty’s personal insignia, wax stamped in its distinct deep red hue. He left just as quickly as he arrived, bowing politely before he exited the front door.
Jimin felt anxious to open it alone, so in the meantime, he slid the envelope into the drawer behind the counter. He waited and hoped one of his hyungdeul would come by to talk him through it, if it was anything major.
Hoseok, who owns the bookstore beside 빛꽃, arrives a little past one, with a plastic bag of tteokbokki and gimbap from their favorite daytime pojangmacha.
“Jiminie, what’s the emergency?” he calls out from the small break room at the back of the store, where he sets up their lunch.
“This correspondence from Gyeongbokgung arrived a couple of hours ago,” Jimin stands in the doorway, carefully holding the envelope between two pollen-stained fingers.
“Ohhh, our Jimin is getting his big moment! Are they requesting flowers for an event? They do that big royal garden gala annually.”
Jimin sits down, slowly lifting the wax seal and pulling a folded but crisp ivory correspondence from inside the flap. He reads out aloud:
Her Majesty cordially invites you to Gyeongbokgung on July 9, Thursday. Please arrive at Sinmumun Gate at 3:30pm. Formal attire expected.
Office of Her Majesty the Queen Hyerin
Hoseok drops the gimbap on its way to his mouth, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Time to bust out that vintage suit from your graduation ceremony.”
♕❀♕❀♕❀
Jimin arrives at Gyeongbokgung’s Sinmumun Gate, where a palace aide meets him and brings him to a two-story pavilion on top of a pond, where it feels like time has stopped amidst the usual hustle of life.
He assumes the meeting will be about a commissioned arrangement, maybe for an upcoming royal event like what Hoseok has mentioned.
He’s not aware which of his bouquets made it within the royal family’s radar, so he thought of his elevator pitch and brought along a folder with photos of his best work. He also sketched a few ideas he thought could work for different events like a charity ball or a dinner for a foreign dignitary, just to impress the Queen with his creativity and planning.
As he steps into the pavilion, his eyes instantly land on a woman wearing a pale lavender hanbok embroidered with tiny flowers.
“Park Jimin,” Queen Hyerin says with a smile. “Thank you for taking the time to meet me today.”
Jimin bows, “Your Majesty, it’s an honor.”
“Come, sit. I’ve requested maesilcha, I hope you don’t mind,” The Queen gestures to the seat across her.
Jimin notices the palace staff gave them the space to be alone, with them standing almost outside the pavilion. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest and straight into the pond, but tries his best to look calm and collected.
The Queen plays the perfect host: pouring him the chilled plum tea from a clear teapot and into white porcelain teacups bearing a delicate plum blossom design. She places some of the tea snacks on matching small plates, handing it to Jimin.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Jimin accepts, still in awe. He looks at the plate and notices the tea cookies are shaped into flowers, while the hwajeon contain edible petals.
After a couple of sips from her own cup of tea, the Queen gets to business, “You might be wondering why I summoned you to the palace.”
“I assumed it was for my floral arrangements, Your Majesty. I own a flower shop across the street near Bukchon,” Jimin says.
“A good friend of mine gave me one of your basket arrangements. I’m not knowledgeable with flowers, but the bold purple and pink hues definitely made an impression on me.”
Jimin’s memory flashes back to the purple gladiolus and pink protea arrangement that he did at the start of the week, the one he gave with the sumukhwa inspired painting.
“It arrived at a time I needed a reminder of what is outside our palace walls. The beauty that can be found in unexpected places,” she says. “I looked into your flowers and see that you take great care in sending a message. Not just through the flowers, but also through your art and the words that come with them.”
“I’m glad you liked them, Your Majesty,” Jimin reaches out to his satchel, to take out his folder with photos and sketches. “I’m assuming you’re interested in arrangements for an event?”
The Queen sips her tea calmly, but Jimin senses something big is coming. He waits with bated breath.
“I asked you to come to the palace because I have an for offer you,” she begins. “Something signifcant and extraordinary.”
“Oh.”
“You’re most likely aware of the recent scandal with the former King. And I’m sure you’ve heard how the public feels about the monarchy right now — maybe a part of you feels the same. We understand the people need something to believe in again, to gain back their trust. We hope you can help us bring that to life.”
“Me, Your Majesty?”
“The Council has asked me to consider an arranged marriage match for my second son, Prince Taehyung. Preferably one who can represent the people and bring us closer to them, by bridging the gap left by the scandal and the growing mistrust,” the Queen continues.
“I… I don’t understand how I will come in,” Jimin says.
“I believe you’re a good match for my son. You seem to carry this gentle grace and warm sincerity, the kind of reassuring presence that complements Taehyung’s steadfast sense of duty. It’s something we need in the Palace, and perhaps something the people need at this moment as well.”
“I’m just a florist, Your Majesty,” Jimin pauses, struggling with words. He did not expect this request at all. “Surely there are others who can step into this role better than I would be able to.”
“Perhaps there are better candidates, that is true. Maybe someone noble from birth, or someone from a similar social standing,” she muses. “But I can tell you have the ability to see the world differently, and that you can bring clarity and comfort where there’s chaos and doubt. It’s there in your flowers, in your art, and the words you choose to go with them.”
“Your Majesty, I truly am honored you think of me this way. And I hope it won’t be disrespectful of me to say this, but I do not want to be just a band aid solution or symbol to be used for whatever purpose the Crown sees me for.”
“We’re not asking for a symbol. We’re hoping for someone’s reassuring, relatable, and real presence — whether you want that to be for the people, or for Taehyung and the Crown, we would be thankful to have you with us,” the Queen lets her maternal instincts kick in.
"If I may speak as a mother though, I want someone real for my son. Someone who will choose to be beside Taehyung, amidst the weight of expectations he carries.”
“You want me to marry Prince Taehyung?” Jimin truly cannot believe how this afternoon has turned out.
“I want you to meet my son, Taehyung,” she gently corrects. “And if you’ll consider and you’re willing, then yes, I hope you would like to be with him as his partner and husband.”
“And if I say no?” Jimin asks with bated breath.
“Then we’ll simply part ways,” the Queen says.
Jimin traces the plum blossoms painted on his teacup, thinking how apt that the flowers made their way to his tea. The flowers signify perseverance and resilience, and it’s also a symbol of hope and new beginnings.
He can't fathom how his humble life can go from arranging flowers and living in a one bedroom apartment to stepping into the role of a royal consort and becoming a part of the royal family. He has no idea what it’s like: the palace life, the responsibilities, the expectations. It seems unreal and daunting to him.
But as he looks up to meet the Queen’s eyes, something inside him stirs. She barely knows him and yet she saw something in him that she believes is worth planting in the palace. She’s asking him to provide something he knows he can do: to be himself. To be a real, steady presence, whether it’s for the people or the prince.
He wonders if it’s the kind of life he wants to live. A part of him sees it as an opportunity to do something more, to be someone more.
It’s not that he thinks his current life of arranging flowers is small — it’s the thing that got him here in the first place, and he plans to never leave that part of himself behind — but maybe, just like the flowers he loves so much, he can grow too. He can also bring a tiny spark of comfort and joy in a place that needs it.
“Your Majesty,” he starts, soft but steady. “I honestly do not feel ready for what you’re asking from me. But there’s also a part of me that understands this… vision, or this hope that you have. I’m greatly honored that you see something in me, something that you believe is worth bringing into the monarchy. And so, even if I’m hesitant and cannot commit myself and my life to the Crown yet, I'm willing to try and at least meet the prince.”
A quiet sense of ease seems to wash over the Queen. “I perfectly understand, Jimin. You don’t have to decide on anything today. I’m thankful you’re open to meeting with Taehyung.”
“When you do, you can see for yourself who he is. You can both take the time to see if there’s something worth nurturing, and then take the next steps together from there,” she gives Jimin a kind smile.
Jimin nods, the decision and the possibility feeling heavy on his shoulders. He sees the way the Queen frames it though: he would not be entirely alone in this. They can go through it together.
“Alright,” He steels himself and tries to release the tension in his body with a calming inhale and a slow exhale. “I’ll meet the prince.”
“Thank you, Jimin. I truly appreciate your openness to giving this a chance. I will arrange for you to meet Taehyung this weekend,” The Queen stands, getting ready to leave. “I know it’s not easy and it will not be easy, but I believe in what you can bring to Taehyung, this family, and the Palace.”
Jimin stands up to bow, then meets her warm but unwavering gaze, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will try my best.”
He doesn’t have the answers yet, and he still feels uncertain about the future. But the promise of something different and real thrums in the air, so he holds on to the hopeful anticipation of possibilities and new beginnings.
♕❀♕❀♕❀
On late Sunday, the sky treats Seoul to a stunning sunset with streaks of lavender, pink, and orange. Jimin enjoys a moment to himself at Changgyeonggung, looking up at the sunset as he sits under a zelkova tree, its leaves softly rustling in the mild afternoon breeze.
At first glance, he looks calm, at peace with what may come from this conversation with Prince Taehyung.
His hands tell another story though, as his fingers nervously trace the ribbon tying the bouquet he brought for Taehyung. He was told it would be a simple meeting and that he didn’t need to bring anything but himself.
He also knew though that the Prince could have anything and anyone he wanted. But aside from bringing his presence and his willingness to possibly see this through to a marriage, there was also one true, honest thing he could offer for this moment: flowers that come from his heart.
Elegant white irises for hope and trust. Blushing pink camellias for respect and tranquil bluebells for gratitude. Delicate, cascading lily of the valley for sincerity and happiness. Forget me nots and freesias for devotion and fidelity.
Just as he’s overthinking his choice of flowers, he hears soft footsteps approaching. Jimin looks up, chest tightening, as he sees Taehyung walking towards him. Even from a distance, Jimin can feel the prince’s quiet but undeniable presence. One that carries a promise of something more, commanding attention or surrender. He doesn’t know yet which option he prefers.
Taehyung stops in front of the bench where Jimin is and Jimin finds himself rising to stand, like flowers moving and facing the sun.
Up close, Jimin notices the prince’s beautiful lashes framing his dark eyes and the moles dotting his face like constellations.
“Your Highness,” Jimin bows.
“Jimin,” Taehyung acknowledges him. His eyes linger on the bouquet, then flicks back up to Jimin’s face. “Are those for me?”
“They are,” Jimin offers the bouquet. Their fingers brush in a fleeting contact, leaving behind some warmth.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful. I saw the flowers that Mother received, and I can tell you truly have the talent and the eye in creating a living art,” Taehyung brings up the bouquet to smell the flowers, eyes softly closing. Jimin’s heart skips a beat.
Taehyung gestures for them to sit on the bench. They both sit in the silence for a moment, letting the tension of what is to come sit between them.
“I know why we’re here, a prince and a florist,” Taehyung breaks the stillness. Jimin nods, feeling comforted that he’s taking the lead, in a situation he has no idea how to navigate.
“The Council thinks I need to marry someone who represents the people, to unite the Crown and the citizens and to bring back trust. My mother thinks you could be good for the Palace and for me.”
Jimin curls his hands on his lap. “And what do you think?”
“I rarely stray away from what is expected of me by the Crown. Whether that’s public appearances, diplomatic matters, and now, my personal life,” Taehyung turns to him and looks at him openly. “I do what is expected.”
Jimin’s chest aches a bit. He knows romance might not be a possibility, but hearing it laid out like that is bringing up some vulnerable truths for both of them.
“I’m a man shaped by duty and obligation. But maybe I can be more than that, with you beside me,” Taehyung says, reaching for his pocket. “Maybe we can be something else, together.”
He takes out a small velvet box and places it between them, opening it to face Jimin and revealing a ring inside.
“This ring is a family heirloom, passed down through a line of sons, for when the time comes to ask an important question,” Taehyung explains in a hushed, reverent tone.
They both look down at the ring, as it twinkles in the dusk: a brilliant diamond strikingly flanked by two gemstone bees, set in a platinum and gold band. “In some cultures, bees are a symbol of royalty. More than that though, they also symbolize partnership and loyalty, anchored in commitment and love.”
The moment presses between them, and Jimin feels a wave of awe and anxiety. He knew this was coming, and he knows what’s coming, but it all seems surreal to him as it’s unfolding.
“I know there’s a typical expectation to kneel, but I want us to enter this marriage equally,” Taehyung holds Jimin’s gaze. “And I also know I am asking something big, perhaps something bigger than we can imagine right now.”
Jimin feels a cocktail of emotions wrestling in his chest as he looks back at Taehyung, watching him earnestly put himself on the line.
“But I promise to stand beside you, as we face the future together. I promise to be truthful to you, and be devoted to this marriage. Even when things get tough. Especially when things get tough.”
And then:
“Will you marry me?”
The question lingers in the air, carried by the rustling of the zelkova tree above them.
Jimin still has no idea how he will carry this legacy. But he sees Taehyung’s sincerity in his eyes and hears the promise in his words. Perhaps they can share the weight of this commitment, and navigate the uncertain future together.
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
Something like a mix of surprise and relief crosses Taehyung’s features. He lets out an exhale and a small smile curves at his lips, a glimmer of tentative hope in his eyes.
“May I?” he asks softly, reaching for Jimin's hand. Jimin nods quietly, watching.
With a steady resolve, Taehyung slides the heirloom ring onto Jimin’s hand. He holds it for a moment, and like a silent thank you, he caresses Jimin’s hand, his thumb moving tenderly over the skin.
This is how their garden begins: a seed planted with trust, waiting to take root and to grow. Hoping for the right conditions to bloom into something beautiful.