Chapter Text
Sua is four when she is adopted into the Yoon duchy.
She’s young, terribly so, but already her adoptive mother has begun parading her around various gatherings without so much as a blink. As the newest gem acquired by House Yoon, there are burdens placed on her that she has yet to understand. These gatherings, never so kind even to a child who wiggles her toes when anxious or barely looks her peers in the eye, don’t teach her any better. She learns, over time, to make or infer meanings of her own, but only because Mother has begun placing expectations on her that she cannot simply push aside.
Hia, a woman who has spent being the apple of her new mother’s eye long before Sua came into the picture, often warned her of the scorn she has to endure now that she was caught within Nigeh’s web.
Though behind these little stories her sister has told her, there’s always been a festering resentment within Hia’s words that Sua realizes only a little too late.
North Anakt’s high society has their own rules and codes of conduct. As the new heiress of House Yoon, she has no choice but to conform.
And by the standards of these codes of conduct, Sua is the perfect doll. Her siblings, girls who are no longer worthy or capable of maintaining Nigeh’s interest, whisper about her sometimes, never kindly or positively — even though Sua is certain she’s never done them any wrong. Some sad little thing becoming the favored daughter, Nigeh Yoon’s last hurrah into long-lasting relevance within the high echelons of North Anakt’s affairs, would be an impossibility.
But that’s exactly what she becomes.
It starts with this: Nigeh Yoon, first of her name, has served as the personal jeweler to the royal family for about two decades, appointed after a meteoric crash in the jewelling industry made it so that only Nigeh was left as the sole supplier and manager of luxury accessories that outfitted most high society families within North Anakt.
Sooner enough, her mother had deemed it appropriate to expand her reputation beyond supplying the pompous with copious amounts of unneeded regalia, becoming an avid socialite amongst the North’s elite in hopes of placing one of her own into Anakt’s biggest courts.
It was an awfully easy choice to make. A legacy with her name attached would mean remaining in the spotlight forever, a goal so perfectly in line with the ever-so-vain Nigeh Yoon.
Hia was a test run of sorts, a largely successful one had it not been for her scarring. The harshness that Nigeh treats Sua after her dear older sister’s fate is different, because in Sua, her mother saw not just her one shot at redemption, but the opportunity for her dream to finally be realized.
It’s all Sua can look forward to as well, even if she cannot particularly put her heart into it, even if it is not something of her own. She’s never allowed to really consider or want for herself, to want much of anything just for her in a way that’s entirely selfish. This house, her last name, this life — none of it is meant for her, not quite. Her life is not hers, and any possession she claims for herself will be something she’s going to have to let go, as it is not truly hers to begin with.
Under House Yoon, daydreaming felt selfish, but it's all she can do. She will focus on what remains within her grasp, and how to preserve it for the future, even if it's just a few childish fantasies. It’s an immature response, really, to seek some form of promise even as she is destined to set her own wants and ambitions aside for her Mother’s, but—
It's the only way to survive.
There are codes of conduct, and two decades later, Sua has grown into them because she has no choice.
At twenty-three years old, there are no opportunities for Sua to maintain any lasting interests in the paradigm that Nigeh has settled her in, but the new addition to these so-called rules and codes of conduct that she’s lived by feels like a noose.
The lavish selection of food spread across the centerfold is already telling enough. Mother is never the type to indulge in these sorts of things out of fear of ruining Sua’s diet, or unless there was something important she had to announce. And like most important things in this house, they always involve Sua in some way, shape, or form.
Dinners like these are all for show anyway, merely a parade of vanity within the gilded confines of Nigeh’s duchy; people are allowed to look, to speak, to admire the merchandise that are part of her house’s lurid lifestyle as jewelers and tailors of the royal family, and she is often reminded that at the end of the day, she cannot desire beyond what she is given as the gleaming centerpiece in her mother’s collection of dolls she calls her daughters.
Sua is the favored child — thus she is treated differently, held to wholly individual standards compared to her less-than-desirable siblings, meaning that her mother’s ‘love’ comes in the form of a serving that is, as usual, the smallest out of seven sisters.
Mother, predictably, has her own rules and codes of conduct. She enforces most aspects of Sua’s life to preserve her in the stasis of her ideal image, both in physicality and bearing: the food and drink she consumes, the clothes she wears, the tone of which she should speak publicly and privately, the language to adopt when speaking to those of their standing, the people allowed in her space, her education and avenues of learning.
Even the most miniscule of mannerisms Sua possesses now — the downward tilt of her chin mid-speech, the folding of her hands over her stomach when idle, the inward flex of her shoulders to seem delicate and unthreatening — are products of Nigeh’s cultivation. Her existence within Mother’s rules is difficult to reconcile with, but unfortunately, there is no feasible way for Sua to escape Nigeh’s attention without inviting punishment.
There’s only been so little freedoms afforded to her these past few years, and all of them aren’t even of her own doing. A telescope that she uses to sometimes gaze at the stars, stashed in the depths of her closet, is the product of a carefully curated level of goodwill with the servants working across the pavilion, and deep within one of her cabinets are a collection of explicit books that her past maids have snuck in for her from the public library.
In a quiet, sheltered corner of her heart, she wishes she can be contained in some of these hobbies forever — her own little world far beyond this house, these walls.
But at the end of the day, these little joys cannot contend with the reality that her time is running out.
“Sua,” Nigeh announces, raising a hand that has the chatter around the long table immediately silenced. “Next week, as my successor, it is high time you properly represent the family and seek out a partnership that will elevate our names into a higher standing.”
The declaration hardly surprises her, though it doesn’t stop the reflex that has her tightening her grasp onto the knife she was cutting into her salad. The writings were on the wall for a while — Nigeh had slowly but surely begun shifting her attention onto their youngest, a recent adoption, and her sisters had all but stopped ‘accidentally’ bumping into her or calling her the various names they usually did when she passed them at any point in the pavilion for the past few months.
Perhaps they’ve seen the patterns. Perhaps they’ve learned the futility of their struggle. Sua has never been given the opportunity to understand, but she can never fault them for the sin of living under Nigeh’s standards.
She only wishes that the new adoption into the family, much too young like she had once been, won’t be treated too harshly, but that is a futile hope to have.
“Next week,” she says, tone carefully neutral. “Mother, what’s the occasion?”
She knows exactly what her mother has planned, but she asks the question anyway, only because she knows Nigeh likes hearing herself talk. But mainly: Sua turns twenty-four right before the peak of the winter season.
Her birthdays, for the past two decades, have always been more about an exercise of Nigeh’s influence rather than herself, as is wont for Sua who is an extension of her mother’s ego rather than a daughter. Birthdays mean not a celebration of age, but an opportunity for Mother’s proxies to extend themselves to the world and show off House Yoon’s assortment of carefully curated poppets.
In Sua’s case, her birthdays are always celebrated in excess. Galas, pageantries, any and all possible options for Sua herself to be the spectacle. Though presently, with the newer prospect of marriage on the table now that it was blatantly her Mother’s next major agenda, it could be on a scale that even her own experience cannot navigate comfortably.
“Suitors from all over the country will be here to honor your turning-of-age,” Nigeh answers succinctly. “I will be making sure of it. Especially with the Winter Summit close by, various noble families will want to make their names known, as we are one of the only two houses closest to the royal family. You should understand what this entails.”
“Yes—”
“I'm not finished,” Nigeh adds, looking at Sua harshly before tapping her fingers on the table. “What’s very important for this occasion is that the crown princess of the East has returned from her diplomatic tenure in the South after four years, and one of her first public correspondences is representing her nation and attending all major celebrations preceding the summit to improve relations with North Anakt. As the first family to welcome her here, we must look dignified.”
Knowing better than to answer prematurely again, Sua bows her head, staring into her half-eaten dinner and pondering the information. Amongst the royalty of the four kingdoms that make up the prestigious country of Anakt, the East’s infamous crown princess is an outlier, defying most odds that have been placed against her since her coronation.
She’s picked up on the details from Nigeh’s occasional appointments with the royal family, bits and pieces forming a somewhat rudimentary picture of the reality behind the East’s crown princess and her lengthy stay in South Anakt: orchestrated famines, maritime disputes between Queen Shine and the late King Heperu, and even more recently, the East princess’ alleged involvement with rebellious elements that orchestrated the downfall of the Southern throne, all for a tenuous alliance to come out of the ruins.
Sua remembered being fascinated by the implications once news of Heperu’s death and the peace treaties reached the North — she’s not sure if she should be vaguely impressed or terrified that there wasn’t a higher body count, as the East’s princess was known for escalating things to violence at the slightest bit of provocation, and the late King’s only son wasn’t known to compromise.
The real concern her mother likely had in this situation, however, has little to do with the South’s fledgling king, but rather East Anakt’s mysterious crown princess.
Queen Shine once made an ultimatum years ago: if her daughter were to successfully defuse tensions between East and South Anakt and come back with sound mind, then discussions of stepping down from the throne to hand it to her so-precious progeny sooner or later may be introduced into court.
It had been a big deal at the time, and it certainly is now, but it only means a few things for Sua and her life as heiress to the few families in the North tied to the crown: adjustment and posturing, which are permanents fixtures within her routine anyway.
She purses her lips. Now, she comprehends the angle Mother is going for. With the scion of the East home at long last, Nigeh will be centering all of her efforts into strengthening their household’s relations to the only successor to its queendom — which means finally introducing Sua to the public as a potential bride to catch this mysterious princess’ attention. That could explain why the servants of the pavilion had been restless with both gossip and activity as of late, and why Nigeh was especially neurotic about the preparations for her turning-of-age.
Nigeh never really concerned herself with heirs, hence why adoption was such a common practice, and the prospect of any one of the Yoon daughters marrying a noble of the same gender was a non-issue. The daughters of House Yoon are expected to be two things: cohesive in image, and extensions of their mother’s influence. Any practices beyond are ones the Yoon duchy has no problem negotiating with. Sua is a little grateful she doesn’t have to concern herself with any problems arising from the latter — as early on in life, she’s learned that she has no preference for men.
The price for these small morsels of privilege, however, is her future.
In truth, the course of her life being decided for her a long time ago doesn't phase her anymore, but it terrifies her all the same. Had she been different, or more like her siblings, she’d find some level of entertainment in greeting suitors and royalty from all over the country, but the only feeling she can comprehend is despair, making its way through her body, shedding layers of vein and turning them into ice.
Sua had been delaying any and all discussions regarding the inevitability of marriage for as long as she could — not that there can truly be a discussion of equal footing between Sua and her mother — but even she cannot outrun reality.
Her time was up.
She momentarily wonders if she should be angrier, before recalling the idea of desensitization; how she has made herself believe to live this lavish life of hers on terms she never set is worth her suffering, and that the notion of freedom or resistance had been something impossible. Rebellion is unlike her. Someone of her circumstances does not deserve to feel anger, especially if she is too afraid to even swallow the concept of it, for fear that it will recognize her for what she is and give her ideas that are far, far beyond what she could achieve on her own.
“I understand,” Sua says after a moment of consideration, if only because prolonging conversation with her mother is more inconvenient than simply acting as she is expected to and avoiding that scenario entirely.
“I hadn't planned on it, but with the East’s princess in our midst, I’ll have to find you something that’s as spectacular as your wedding dress,” Nigeh mutters to herself, placing her hand down. The chatter, now noticeably quieter, returns to the table, but Sua doesn’t miss the way her sisters’ eyes lingered on her longer before they began eating again. Her mother, ever unconcerned, goes on. “Tomorrow, I will personally take your measurements to see if it’s changed from the last. I’ve also tailored your menu for the next few days. You’ll be eating lighter.”
The urge to burst into tears is there — surprising, as she has trained herself out of this instinct when in Mother’s presence a long time ago — but she pulls herself together just enough to clench into the steel of the utensils in her grasp.
“Yes, mother,” she says.
The words nearly stick in her throat. She swallows, breathes deep, and turns her head back down to her dinner. The salad remains half-eaten, and the chicken breast, no longer warm, tastes like ash in her mouth.
On the afternoon of her twenty-fourth birthday, Sua is accompanied by her mother and a dozen maids to prepare her for the incoming gala in her honor. Nigeh has procured a white gown that nearly pools onto the floor in its entirety, the ends fading into a soft, shimmering light blue. The ensemble shows off her back and neck, which are parts of her body that Nigeh puts on display for the masses to admire and gawk at since she had been a child.
For this special occasion, her mother has permitted a slit on the thigh, too. As if Sua wasn’t exposing herself enough already.
The maids are there to carefully arrange the multitude of glittering pearls and intricate beads that would be decorating both the gown and the expanse of Sua’s skin for the evening. Nigeh had a certain predilection for putting her daughters in white and lace, fixated on maintaining their household’s brand of purity. But as the apple of her mother’s eye, the honors of wearing Nigeh’s personal collection of favorite jewelries are reserved to Sua, and Sua alone.
There had been another entitled to this privilege, once, but she is not here to help steer Sua through the incoming storm anymore.
“Perfect,” Nigeh murmurs, wordlessly tugging Sua’s jaw into her grasp. Sua barely reacts, her body already pliant and long accustomed to her mother’s whims. “I do remember Her Highness Shine saying her daughter was fascinated by the North’s winter season. It’s only perfect that we've adopted the aesthetic for the celebrations. Keep your chin up.”
The instruction is obeyed without question. Mother, while infatuated with her self-image and often careful about maintaining anything and everything related to it, can be rather careless with the handling of her possessions when agitated. Sua even tilts her head to the side after, predicting the routine of Nigeh’s scrutiny, if only to minimize the unwarranted chiding should she, her mother’s prized goods, be the slightest bit damaged.
Sua spends the entire session in silence, letting her mother and the maids set the pace. She’s adorned with a pair of pearl earrings that had become a staple in most of her public appearances, along with heels that gave her meager height a little extra elevation. Her short hair is styled to curl at the ends, and her makeup is flawless — Mother had basically pulled out all the stops for tonight. Which isn’t surprising with royalty in their midst, but Sua had to at least find a silver lining in her misery somewhere.
The last hour counting down to the gala once she’s set free is regretfully just as tedious. The pavilion is decorated in a multitude of freshly-cut flowers, the statues which are usually cleaned only at the beginning of the month are squeaky clean, and the smell of the catering services mother had hired for the event wafts through every nook and cranny of the ballroom — all sound normal and even pleasant without context, but to Sua, they are all reminders of the prison slowly being built around her.
A number of her sisters come across her throughout her journey within their family home, but their wishes to her are hollow and lack substance. They may be siblings in name, but they are fractured, and with Hia no longer around her to discourage their contempt, they’ve long formed into cliques that outcasted Sua when she was first declared the new heiress of House Yoon.
It’s strange, really, to know the reality of this family compared to the so-called ‘camaraderie’ Nigeh’s sycophants described her and her sisters to perpetuate in their uniformity.
The first of the guests arrive around dusk, just as the fires throughout the pavilion are lit, before turning into a steady stream of various people once the night settles. She recognizes a few faces in the mix of all these foreign dignitaries, but only out of obligation. The majority of North Anakt’s high society are obnoxious, slow, and painfully entitled, and Sua has no desire to accost any of them. An environment where arrogance runs unchecked tends to produce many of the same breed.
Luckily, she wouldn’t have to engage in conversation with any of them for too long. Her attention is redirected constantly due to the sheer magnitude of guests present, and her mother, who has introduced herself to the gala in the midst of Sua’s distractions, seemed intent on taking space instead of letting Sua stand out.
Which is good.
She’d also been described to have the sort of face that made it difficult for anyone to approach her — those ‘ice princess’ rumors had really done quite a lot of work in the formation of her image — and while Sua was initially reprimanded for it a long time ago, Nigeh had soon decided that the mystique surrounding her was a benefit.
A benefit it had been, indeed, just not in the way Mother believes. The less she was approached on this occasion, the better.
She politely excuses herself from her recent conversation, along with declining an invitation for a drink from a few curious guests, before Nigeh, who had been at the center of the ballroom and talking about Sua like a prize to be attained, beckons at her to come over.
Sua freezes for only a moment, before obeying.
“The East’s crown princess has yet to show herself,” Nigeh starts when Sua approaches. “Many suitors from large families are interested in you, and they show promise, but I’d rather we hear what East Anakt’s future queen has to say about her nuptial prospects now that she will have to be more open to the idea. Keep an eye out for her, and do all you can to catch her eye when you do see her.”
“Yes, mother.”
She hardly has the desire to add anything else, not wanting to invite more into discussion. Mother, satisfied with her compliance, redirects her attention back to the crowd of nobles that had been at her heels since she introduced herself in the gala. Their eyes, however, linger on Sua for a little longer, expressions settling into various emotions – fascination, awe, desire — all within expectation and all equally unpleasant.
Sua stays within her mother’s vicinity for a while. The discussions Nigeh surrounds herself with are hard to listen to, but they are monotonous in the way that Sua has grown used to her mother’s particular level of callousness in treating her little possessions.
Though with the added weight of arranged marriages and something of the like, these conversations have become rather… suffocating.
It really isn’t the sort of conversation Sua likes to be present for even when she’s used to it, and she recognizes immediately that she ought to make herself scarce the moment Nigeh motions the crowd of nobles into a hush. As much as she would not like to move from where she is lest she invite more attention than she already was garnering, Sua cannot stomach to be here, let alone when her mother was now discussing the numerous advantages the gaggle of potential suitors in the room would get upon being wed to her and how she was the most desirable noblewoman in the region for the last few years.
Unfortunately, she would still have to listen, as her mother would ask questions.
So when Sua quietly slips out of the ballroom and to the less-crowded veranda that would take her to the gardens, she does so with the impression of a busy woman (a half smile decorating her lips, a brief nod offered to any noble who would look her way, folded hands over her stomach) to ward off any potential detours. Her objective was to simply escape a majority of the gala for some peace and quiet, but the gardens next to the ballroom were the perfect vantage point to pick up on various conversations for her to use should her absence be questioned.
Tiptoeing between a bed of anemones, she leans along the wall near to where Nigeh had been speaking, and angles an ear to the window overlooking the ballroom.
Or, well, she would have, had there not been someone already there, very clearly prying in the same way Sua had been planning on doing. The woman’s chartreuse eyes are wide, her lips parted, and there’s a longsword sheathed into a leather scabbard at her hip that commands just as much attention as the disorderly nest of pink hair on her head. But not so much that Sua doesn’t realize, almost immediately, that this woman is quite striking.
There’s something almost unsettling about this stranger — the sharp slopes of her jaw, the cat-like curve of her eyes, the short curls of her hair — as though she’s composed of paints and oils on a canvas rather than an element of reality.
For a long moment, Sua only stares.
Behind the wall, Nigeh’s prattling echoes — a conversation about Sua’s marriage prospects that, apparently, this woman had clearly been interested in learning more about — but if there are words that will easily transition the both of them back to their completely separate quests of snooping, Sua finds herself with none.
Instead, this stranger finds it for the both of them.
“Uh, hey,” the woman says, sliding a hand through her hair, and the other laying awkwardly onto her hip. The girl’s pants are a rich black, finely tailored and tucked neatly into knee-high boots, which while not pristine, are clearly well-maintained. Her navy-blue collar is popped open, but what actually makes Sua’s eyebrows raise high is the folded tailcoat slung over the woman’s left shoulder; the wave crests and patterns a dead giveaway of the East’s ocean-inspired seamwork. “I—uh, I’m a guest, I swear! I… just didn’t realize there was anyone going to be slinking around here too.”
Sua can only muster a blink in her bewilderment. Her mouth opens, and after a moment, closes shut.
The woman grins, awkward and crooked, dropping her hand from her hair and offers it to Sua as if she wasn’t a suspicious figure lurking in someone’s backyard. “The name’s Mizi! Not anyone really special, just here to enjoy the food and mingle a little. I was uh… getting some fresh air…”
It occurs to her belatedly that this woman, who bears insignias that are markedly from East Anakt and is the only guest so far in this gala who has clear evidence of the former observation, might likely be the mysterious crown princess that Nigeh had been desperately sniffing out the entire night, and this realization makes this unusual bout of speechlessness from Sua all the worse.
“Uh… anyways. Have you seen Lady Yoon anywhere?” Mizi asks; she looks chagrinned, but her eyes linger on the rest of Sua’s body before shooting back up to make eye contact. Sua draws back slowly, shifting her arms over each other before resting them over her stomach again, as though pebbling at the invisible touch. “The one with the birthday, I mean! Not the mom. I don’t have anything to talk about with her, but I haven’t seen whoever’s been throwing this party which is weird so…”
Sua thinks she should interject here, but thinks better of it, staying quiet.
“It’s been great so far, even if I’ve just been around for only like an hour and so, but it was getting a little stuffy in there so I had to leave, but I did want to look for the girl who was throwing this party and — oh god, you’re really giving me nothing to work with here, huh?”
After everything — after this ‘Mizi’ and her disjointed introduction — calling the guards on this could-be-dangerous-trespasser is what Sua should be doing, but she can’t help but nurse a certain level of curiosity at the absurdity of this situation.
She remembers what Hia told her before her exile years ago, about how nobility is never your friend, no matter how wide they smile or how harmless they looked (and that maybe Sua ought to tone down her strange fascination for things that could hurt her). Surely these principles apply to this bumbling idiot as well?
She starts with, “You should not be here.”
Mizi chuckles nervously, tugging on her collar. “Is that right?” she asks, eyes shifting. “But I’ve heard guests were welcome to explore the Yoon pavilion. I thought the gardens were free to look at. This family sure has some really pretty flowers!”
Sua stares, bewildered. While true, as far as she knows, her mother had told the guards to discourage any of the antsier guests from exploring or leaving the ballroom. Sua knew these guards, and was thus granted some leeway in the form of their pity, but this woman had none. How did Mizi skirt pass them? Or cause no commotion by doing so? “Is that so.”
“So-so!” Mizi’s grin grows, before hastening to add, “I swear on my family heirlooms that I’m a guest. The heralds know. Just ask for my name from the list.”
Sua barely resists the impulse to interject over this stranger again, opting to stay silent in her disbelief.
Predictably, Mizi deflates, cowed by her lack of amusement. “Okay, yeah, I shouldn’t be here,” she huffs, raising her arms in surrender. “That… probably wasn’t the best way to introduce myself. But I wasn’t really expecting to bump into anyone also snooping back here.”
How charming, she can’t help but think, and immediately frowns at herself for even having the thought. Because, for one, this woman might be insane.
Torn, she settles for a more neutral, safer expression, still wary for this could-be-stranger lurking in her backyard.
“Well, for starters, I’m not ‘snooping’ like you,” Sua says, quickly composing herself. “And to answer your question, this entire occasion is organized solely by Duchess Yoon. Her daughter has no involvement with the preparations whatsoever.”
“Huh, why wouldn’t the birthday girl throw her own party? That’s weird,” Mizi scrunches her nose, and waves a hand through the air in front of her, gesturing at Sua. “And you’re totally snooping! There’s no reason for anyone to be here when the party’s just right there.”
“People can have motives that don’t ascribe to what is typically ‘rational’ or reasonable,” she counters, regaining a bit more of her footing, and it seeps into her voice, returning to its usual stolidness. “But I do in fact live here, so it doesn’t completely count.”
“Wait, really?” Mizi blinks, then laughs. The rules and codes of conduct had dictated that nobility had a tendency to hide their emotions behind the still, lifeless masks that they call their faces, but this woman is so vastly different from the rules she has known her entire life that it is jarring. Does Sua know anyone in this life who would express themselves so similarly to a commoner instead of as one of their own? How peculiar. “Why would you be sneaking around your own house?”
Sua averts her eyes, agitated by the pointed question, looking towards the window between them by way of reply. The gala is in full swing, multitudes of guests mulling about and accosting the various avenues laid out across the ballroom.
Mother, as expected, is hardly concerned over what, where, or who her most prized jewel is spending her time with, distracted by her own agendas now that all eyes in the room were solely on her. A comforting certainty that Nigeh provides, for all her oppressive standards, is her consistency — as long as Sua causes no incident that will reflect on her name and image, then she is free to explore the graces within her gilded cage as much as she likes.
“Oh, I see now,” she nearly jumps when Mizi steps right into her space, following her gaze and tilting her head. The princess seems to recognize her discomfort and steps back a fraction, giving Sua a glance that is both apologetic and questioning. “Not a fan of the suitors and the whole ‘impress to get the girl’ thing they got going in there? I totally get it.”
It elicits a stronger response in her than expected. “That’s not—” Sua finds herself saying, balling her fists and curling them into her chest. She clears her throat, blinking away her anxiety. “How could you know that? The Duchess hasn’t made any big announcements regarding her daughter. Or anything about suitors.”
“A bit obvious if you listen to the way Duchess Yoon is talking about her daughter right now,” Mizi offers noncommittally, picking out a piece of lint from her sleeve. She’s still smiling, and it almost seems to be her face’s natural state of being, but there’s a twist in her eyebrows that give away her bemusement. “Not in good taste if you ask me. But maybe her daughter actually thinks it’s a great idea. Who knows.”
“…she doesn’t,” she replies impulsively, irritated over the accusation, before quickly adding, “Dropping the idea of marriage onto a woman who is rumored to be preoccupied with other things would be quite an adjustment for anybody.”
Mizi turns her head at that, her eyebrows lifting briefly, almost imperceptibly. “Huh.”
She’s not sure if it was the right thing for her to say, or if she should’ve been more personal, more amicable, more truthful, and Sua is instantly left feeling a bit foolish.
This is not a conversation she’s ever had with anyone before, as shameful as it is to realize, in retrospect — but somehow, she feels more rounded at the edges than she was, pointed and blood-catching corners ground down into smooth stone. Like Mizi has managed to pick through a small piece of her defenses.
Only then does the thought occur to her that maybe she ought to be a little more suspicious of the East’s crown princess eavesdropping on a conversation both her mother and herself are involved in. Even if East Anakt’s only heir to the throne, rumored to be unpredictable and dangerous, had a really nice face to look at. And was now tilting her head and observing Sua in this curious sort of way that made the back of Sua’s neck flare with heat, a reaction she is wholly unprepared for.
“You might be right,” Mizi finally says, turning her head back towards the window. The warm lights from the gala illuminate her strangely thoughtful expression. “You know, without all the people in there hankering for a taste of the birthday lady, I’d say it was a pretty decent party. There’s only so much dudes talking about ‘Duchess Yoon’s beautiful, very single daughter!’s you can take before it starts feeling gross though. I don’t think it was even flattering the first time, either.”
Sua stomps down the urge to worry her lip or shift on her feet at the subject matter, opting for a more detached response. As used to the comments as she is, they never stopped making her uncomfortable. “Is that why you’re here, eavesdropping to get information on Duchess Yoon’s daughter?”
“Sort of? I am here because I did actually want to look at the flowers, but you can’t fault me for being a little curious!” Mizi folds her arms, looking up in thought with a pout on her lips, and then down at Sua with a perplexed grin. For royalty, Sua thinks, East Anakt’s future queen is incredibly expressive. “If you ask me,” she carelessly leans back into Sua’s space, whispering as if telling a secret, “From the way these people talk about her, Lady Yoon is probably better off hiding in her room.”
Sua takes a step back, slightly distressed at the casual and repeated intrusions into her personal bubble, but she’s unable to stop the humored puff of air coming out through her nose at the comment.
There’s another stretch of calm as they both stare across the window, taking in various happenings of the gala. Inside, the conversation has shifted from Sua and her marital status, with Nigeh now talking about trade routes and presenting discounts of a future jewelry line. Mizi, seemingly losing interest now that Sua isn’t the topic, shifts her stare onto her instead, the indifference in her eyes turning into something that Sua thinks might be appraisal.
Against her nature, Sua accepts the pointed scrutiny, raising an eyebrow.
“Well then!” Mizi starts blithely, hands on her hips. “Who are you anyways? You live here, you know both the Duchess and the birthday girl, and, uh,” she looks her up and down, stare lingering strangely before shaking her head and looking Sua in the eye. “And you look important. Since you’ve somehow put up with me this entire time, is there a chance I can get a name?”
“Not until you give me yours in its entirety,” Sua says evenly, holding Mizi’s gaze with a tilt of her head. “It’s only proper courtesy that Her Highness of East Anakt introduces herself first before anyone of lower rank.”
Her words predictably smack the crown princess out of her trance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mizi says loudly, and immediately flushes at her own volume. She quiets down immediately after, grimacing. “I’m just a guest like the others.”
Sua purses her lips to stop the faint start of a humored smile, watching the way Mizi retreats, graceless and frantic. This is far from the most normal sight Sua was expecting to see with her own eyes, especially with such a prominent figure. She hadn’t expected for the crown princess to be like… this, or to find someone like Mizi in general — but it’s a little comforting to know that she wasn’t the only one who was out of her depth tonight. “Really.”
“Really! I’m just, uh,” Mizi backtracks, blinking and tapping her foot for a few seconds, before she seems to give up entirely and raises a hand to her face. “Okay,” she says lamely, sighing as she drags her palm down. “How did you figure that out? I’m pretty sure no one up here knows what I look like. I asked not to be announced, and I haven’t attended any summits in four years.”
“Formal clothes from East Anakt draw inspiration from the sea for their unique patterns, and they’re especially prominent when it’s meant for royalty,” Sua explains, her voice droll. “My mother has been expecting you for a while, so I did some research. I’m Sua Yoon.”
“Oh, you’re the birthday girl,” Mizi gasps, before she winces and covers her mouth with her hand. “Shit. I’ve totally messed up my introductions, haven’t I?”
“Not completely,” Sua corrects, unfolding her arms. “The concern is of my mother’s. However you present to me is immaterial.”
“No, no, you deserve something proper, even if I’m not that big on formalities,” Mizi raises her hands, laughing. She clears her throat and gives Sua a wink. “You’ve met Mizi, random creep who was snooping in your garden,” she says, before spinning in place and facing Sua again, a sly curve on her lips. “Now I’m Mizi Han, totally not the crown princess of East Anakt.” A pause. “Who is still snooping in your garden.”
The laughter that comes out of her mouth is unexpected. Sua catches herself and flushes, raising a hand to muffle the noise, but Mizi’s already looking at her with a knowing expression that renders any explanation she’d offer for that small lapse in judgement afterwards to be completely pointless.
(There’s something filling up a space in her chest. She’s not quite sure what it is, doesn’t want to examine its origin. But it’s something that she’s never felt before, and as it settles, the tingle that slides throughout Sua’s body feels both pleasurable and terrifying.)
“So the birthday lady does actually register my jokes,” Mizi smooths over, the half-grin she’d adorned earlier returning on her face. She looks proud of herself as she studies Sua, leaning against the wall and folding her arms. “How long have you known I was the princess?”
“Since I saw you,” Sua deadpans, not a beat missed.
Mizi bellows out a laugh, a delicate flush of embarrassment creeping up her face. “So I was basically making myself look like an idiot the entire time we were talking to each other? Is that it?”
Sua stifles a smile again. “To put it lightly.”
The princess laughs it off again, as if she’s getting a kick out of making a fool of herself. “There are worst things for me to be doing,” she relents, simple and easy, her gaze turning to the bed of flowers in front of them. “Come to think of it, I never actually got an answer for why you’re here. Is it for the flowers too?”
“I see these flowers every single day.”
Mizi giggles dumbly at her own mistake. “Then you get to see them again,” she argues. “Or is it to actually avoid all that back in there? I wouldn’t blame you.”
Sua doesn’t manage to suppress her reaction to the question in time, shoulders tensing. But she is the Yoon heiress and she is in control of the few variables within her grasp, including her emotions and her body, so she lets the unease run through her, emptying herself out until she is cool and composed again. Then all she says is, “I suppose.”
“Hm,” Mizi hesitates. Her smile is sharp now. “What’s the deal with that anyway?”
Sua cocks her head, suspicious over the line of questioning. “With what?”
“Do you want to get married?” Mizi is looking at her now, her gaze focused. “Or was that your mom’s idea?”
Sua startles somewhat, straightening. “It’s… necessary,” she intones carefully, lips dry, before halting. There is no reason for her to be honest, not with anyone, but especially not with the progeny of the East’s most powerful family. “Mother always has the best interests of the house in mind, and that includes me,” she turns her head away, curtailing her tone and expression with effort, until they’re both flat and inoffensive. “It’s all part of elevating the house standing. Your Highness should be familiar with these sorts of things.”
That focused stare wavers slightly. “I guess you’re right,” Mizi’s smile is sheepish again, and she ducks her head as she shrugs. Odd, Sua thinks, how even her courtesy has a strange swagger in the shifting of her shoulders. Is this the effect of a distinctly royal upbringing, or something Mizi exhumes on her own? “It’s not like I haven’t dealt with stuff like that before… but you don’t look like you like it.”
There is a terribly unpleasant feeling building up in her chest at the observation. She dislikes it. Greatly.
“Whatever do you mean?” Sua is crossing her arms in front of her chest, and only belatedly realizes how defensive her posture must look. She returns to her usual stance, hands over each other, folded demurely over her stomach. It feels almost more uncomfortable, and she cannot understand why.
“It means nothing,” Mizi says amicably, her face betraying no obvious motive other than plain curiosity. “I just think it’s really interesting how the birthday lady finds it hard to admit she doesn’t like her gifts.”
“…pardon?”
“I mean that I can keep a secret or two,” the princess elaborates casually, pushing herself off the wall. Her chartreuse eyes give Sua another onceover that feels weirdly invasive. “You can admit you don’t like it that your mom is marrying you off.”
“There is no secret,” Sua says with no small amount of ice, turning her eyes away from Mizi’s to focus on the flowerbeds. She isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince more in this conversation: Mizi or herself. “Perhaps you should respect that not speaking about things is as close as you can get to the truth, Your Highness.”
Mizi doesn’t speak for a moment, making an audible hum. “Okay, but not speaking about things isn’t the same as admitting to a lie.”
“It can be,” Sua says dismissively. “What nonsense.”
Somehow, she can hear the grin in Mizi’s voice without seeing it, as if she’s trying to stop herself from laughing. “It’s like, heavily implied.”
“Have you been told how irritating it is to talk to you?”
She must be making a face without realizing, or maybe there was something about the way she said it, because she hears Mizi sigh, and despite knowing better, Sua tears her gaze away from the bed of anemones and back to the woman who’s been giving her trouble since the beginning of the night. “Perhaps I’ve overstepped,” Mizi says, softer than she had been for the entire time Sua’s known her, like it’s simple. “Maybe you’re right. This isn’t my business.”
Sua blinks, incredulous.
She’s in the middle of opening her mouth and making a reply that should finally wrap up this strange conversation — with a certainty that she should never talk to this confusing woman with her just as confusing questions ever again — when one of her maids emerge from the garden gates, restless and frantic. Both her and Mizi are startled, but only Sua jolts at the sudden sound. Loud bursts of noise aren’t something she receives well, especially from within the pavilion.
“Is that — uh,” Mizi says, hand slowly shifting away from the hilt of her sword, unwinding at the lack of threat. “Is that one of yours?”
“My lady,” the maid only spares Mizi a brief glance as she approaches, before her eyes lock onto Sua’s face. “I am terribly sorry for interrupting, but—”
Sua is alert in an instant. “Yes? Is something the matter?”
“Your mother.”
She frowns. “How upset is she?”
“Quite a bit,” the maid elaborates readily in a whisper. “The others have covered for you, but we can't stall any longer.”
The Yoon heiress isn't known to be vulnerable around her rank and file, but she cannot stop the pained grimace from unfurling over her features. “I see,” she murmurs back, nodding. “Thank you, Miwa. I’ll be going back inside in a moment. You are dismissed.”
It’s only once she composes herself again, her hands clenching and unclenching, that Sua remembers where she is.
“...I apologize, if you had to see that,” she says, shuffling on her feet before sighing. The tension between them, Sua feels, isn’t unspooling, only tightening. “My mother’s moods can be… turbulent, if I don't meet certain expectations.”
Mizi’s gaze darts quickly from Sua’s eyes, to the direction where Miwa had vanished to, then back to her. She smiles. It looks only a little unsettling for the occasion. “There’s no need for such things,” she says. Her eyes are oddly distant, almost oppressive in its scrutiny. “Is it true that Duchess Yoon likes talking over you when she has a score to settle? I’ve heard she’s got quite the temperament when she’s envious of her own daughter.”
“...didn’t you say you’ve pushed enough?”
“Humor me,” Mizi prompts further, expression solemn for once that Sua is forced to take pause. “Just pretend I’m a wall with no ears and no way to understand whatever you’re saying.”
Sua eyes her warily. “I’m not confirming or denying it,” she offers, her words tinged with caution and a huff of faint exasperation. “Rumors often have a piece of the truth in them, but they’re just as easy to exaggerate. I don’t see how this is necessary to whatever you want from me.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Mizi says airily, her eyes landing back on hers, friendly and open again. Somehow, Sua is not the slightest bit persuaded of it. “She's looking for suitors to set you up with, right? Are there any she’s got in mind?”
Sua raises an eyebrow, one of her hands darting down to fiddle with her dress. What was this freak of a woman getting at? “I wouldn’t know that.”
“Something tells me you do,” Mizi cuts in, eyes knowing. “I told you. I can keep a secret.”
She purses her lips, slightly intimidated by the calculating stare the taller woman is shooting down at her, before relenting with an exasperated sigh. “She’s been specifically looking for you. Your thoughts on marriage, I mean.”
The crown princess hums, before shrugging carelessly. “I figured,” she says matter-of-factly, ruffling her hair. She throws Sua a knowing half-smile. “Besides Ivan’s—I mean Prince Choi’s envoys, I'm basically the only big shot to show up. Of course she’d be looking for me.”
Sua shoots her an intrigued look. “You know of Prince Choi?” she blinks, before backtracking and clearing her throat. “That wasn’t quite the right question. You’ve met Prince Choi?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Mizi says. “You?”
A brief pang of irritation swells within her. “I can’t say,” she settles with. “My opinions on Prince Choi are… not the sort you’d like to hear in polite society.”
Mizi huffs out an honest laugh. “Yeah, no. I get why Ivan would get on your nerves. I think he's a cool guy though.”
She tilts her head at the princess, frowning. “Really?” she blinks, the curl on her lips deepening even further. “Well, I don’t. I can’t quite understand why he is rather preoccupied with pushing me around.”
The princess gives her an amused grin, shrugging. “Who knows with Ivan,” she says easily. “You know, if your mom ever considered him as one of your suitors out of all the people here — if he ever attended that is — I think he’d be the only decent one.”
Her face wrinkles at the implication. “How… unfortunate.”
“Aw, he’s not that bad,” Mizi commiserates playfully, before she looks into Sua’s eyes again, and pauses. She looks eerily calm now. “Never mind that. So it looks like I'm the ideal fiancée, huh? What does good ol’ Duchess Yoon want? Power? Money? Attention?”
“All of them,” Sua answers instantly, but not before adding, “But mostly the last one.”
Mizi stares, before she throws her head back and laughs again. “Okay then,” she chuckles out. “If that’s the case, I have a really insane idea that I need your permission to pull off. I swear it'll be worth your while, but you have to give me your blessing.”
Sua looks her up and down, suddenly feeling wary. “...And that is?”
In a blink, Mizi seems to transform, an invisible cloak settling on her shoulders, changing her entire countenance and adding years that don’t belong to her; her spine straightens, her chin lifts, and she takes a careful and pointed step back, placing a distance between them that feels formal and so distinctly unlike her in a way that the rest of their interactions earlier had not.
“I’ll come back to the gala with you,” she says with a cunning look in her eyes. “And when you bring me to your mom, I will tell her that I want you, Sua Yoon, to be my wife.”