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"How would you like to join the Queen Claiming, Ruby?"

The metal bars were cold against your hand. You willed yourself away. Away from everything. What was this craziness? Why did it have to happen to you? And that too, so close to your college application results . If you couldn't see your results from Harvard, you would practically die inside. But now, on top of that, some psychopathic 'king' asked you to join a Queen claiming. Was this really just some twisted way of killing you?

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Trapped. Rats squeaking. That handsome, chiselled, crazy face with the dimpl-

"NO!" You screamed, sweat dripping down your forehead. You opened your eyes hesitantly. A green blob on a block stared back at you. You sighed, relieved. Still alive. For now. You blinked a few more times to clear the blurriness in your eyes. Now, in the place of the blob on the block, a massive jade lion stared back at you from a gold plated table. The soft silk sheets covering you were suffocating.You shoved them off, and then jumped down from the queen sized bed. The pillow covers and sheets were pure white, without a speck of dust. The jade coloured blanket had golden lions embroidered on it. The golden thread almost glittered in the first rays of sunlight, coming from the huge Palladian windows to the right side of your room. The gigantic crystal chandelier hanging down from the high ceiling of the room also glimmered, casting faint shadows on the wall. The two tall, wide, gold flecked marble pillars framing the windows were also carved with lions, who looked down at you menacingly. Geez. Chill. it's not like I want to be here anyways. You said to the carvings.

Lions...what an odd choice for room decor. You traced the intricately sewn patterns on the blanket with your finger. When you picked it up, the blanket pooled in your hand and flowed, almost like quicksilver. It was definitely the most exquisite material you had felt in your life. You looked down, staring at your matching silk lion pajama pants. The pajamas were ridiculous, and looked utterly out of place on you. Way too fancy.

You groaned, clutching your head in frustration and jumped back onto the bed, burying your head into the impossibly soft pillow. "First a freaking jail, and now the grandest, most grandiose palace room in history? What have I gotten myself into..." You muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. You thought about the events that had happened to you the previous day. That asshole, General Kim had somehow drugged you, and locked you in a jail. At least you had thrown a few punches at him. Then, a murderer that everyone called King- no wait, 'Crown- Prince' Namjoon, threatened to hang you if you didn't join some weird claiming thing. Of course you agreed. Korea, more specifically Seoul, was where your grandmother was from. And here you were, even if it was under a different name-Hanyang. Still, you wanted to feel close to her. You missed her.

As soon as the Prince, his 20 guards, and General Kim had left the dungeon, a prisoner guard had hauled you up from the cold dungeon floor. His face was covered by a large, black, straw hat? Bamboo hat? He had looked like the creepiest farmer ever. But you couldn't laugh. He had been dressed in a long, silky looking blood red hanbok, and looked even scarier than General Kim. Even his beard looked terrifying. He had forced you to stand, threatening you with some Korean words you were unfamiliar with. Probably some olden day swear words. You got the message, and stood up without a fight. He then bound your wrists together with surprisingly sturdy rope that chaffed your skin. And then he proceeded to blindfold you. You had almost screamed and thrashed, but at the last minute you held yourself back. You weren't risking going into the dungeon again.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You shuddered thinking about that moment with the guard now. You had walked for what seemed like hours, the corridors of the palace twisting and turning. It was like walking through a gigantic snake. Finally, a door was opened, and you were shoved inside a room. The guard took off your blindfold. "Don't even try to bolt. There are 10 guards outside on stand-by." He said, glaring at you with what could only be pure hatred. He untied your hands, and immediately shut the door and locked it from the outside. You sighed. You had given up on the idea of escaping ages ago.

You were in jail less than 24 hours ago. No, jail was an understatement. It was a whole dungeon. An actual dungeon. You had been squatting on the revolting floor in your torn sweatpants and hoodie. Your safety net, the bucket hat, had been thrown off by General Kim and was probably lying on the floor of that dirty village, next to the wheelbarrow full of straw. You were freezing your butt off, the smell of what you imagined was rotting corpses leaked into your cell. The place seemed devoid of life. It was completely grey. Until an insane, infuriatingly handsome, almost-king guy had said you could get out of that hellhole on one condition. The Queen Claiming.

The name was rather vague, but you did remember reading about this ritual in several of those fantasy books you binge-read in the library. A bunch of rich people's daughters, usually snobby and pretentious, gathered together to complete tasks to win the king's love and become his queen. You thought it was utter nonsense. Just a hoard of preening peacocks with ridiculous gowns weighing them down, batting their eyelashes for a wimpy king. But you were completely sure you would not be competing. You were not rich, actually the complete opposite, and you were an accused spy. You were probably going to work as a maid for one of the competitors or something. But then why would they give you this enormous room? Must be a customary greeting. You shoved the thought out of your mind. It wasn't important. You had to devise a plan to live. You looked down at your arms, the thin, red lines fading into purple. You remembered the strawberry red pen knife your father had given you, engraved with your initials, stained with your blood. You had put it on her chipped dresser table, pushing away the empty wine bottles to make space for it. It was in hopes that she would notice and ask if you were okay. She didn't.

In your world, you couldn't think of a reason to live. Nobody loved you, or cared for you. You were alone. But somehow, in this world, you held onto your life. You didn't want to die like this, especially not here. Seoul was your grandmother's birth place. She was also buried here, but your mother had forbidden you from visiting her grave. Visiting her country all together. Now that you were here, even though it may be centuries before your grandma was born, you felt connected to her. You could almost hear her laugh in joy, her eyes crinkling, and clapping her small, wrinkly hands, because you were finally reunited. You could remember her love for collecting old, and usually chipped, Korean artefacts. The ruby necklace she had given you was one of them. You could remember your grandma laying in her bed, breaths quivering, gripping onto your hand. "My Lubi. Lubi Ledeu." Her accent made the R's sound like L's. You loved her accent. It was smooth and rounded, like a piece of polished glass.

Which is why, in this world, you had decided to go by a different name. Ruby Red. To honour your grandma.

Knock Knock Knock. You heard three sharp, curt knocks outside your door. You yelped, and then almost fell off your bed. Your hands started shaking. You tiptoed to the door as quietly as you could, which was easy, with the luxurious wool carpeted floor under your feet. Your legs quivered, and felt like jelly. There was no gap under the door. You couldn't tell who was outside. For all you knew, it could be Prince Namjoon, getting ready to escort you to your hanging. But then again, who were you kidding? You weren't that important, Prince Namjoon only escorted royalty. The last thing you would see before you were hanged would probably be the face of the terrifying guard from yesterday.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, yes! Please come in, stranger who might kill me! I mean, it's totally not like someone locked the door from the outside.

Do you address them formally? Or informally? I mean, it wasn't hard with General Kim and his crony, General Park. They didn't deserve respect. And neither did their snooty prince. You knew it probably went against all rules of respecting authority and whatnot your grandma had told you was very important while speaking Korean. But at this point, you really didn't care.

Knock Knock Knock. You jumped, heart pounding. I should hide. You eyed the enormous windows to your right. They had a platform. Perfect. You ran, climbing on the raised ledge under the window. You caught hold of the heavy green fabric of the curtains, embroidered with lions, just like your pyjamas, and covered yourself with it. You pulled them in front of you, closing them completely.

You heard the door open with a creak. You heard someone enter the room, and close the door behind them. "H-He-Hello? P-Princess?" A sweet, honey-like voice said, stuttering. Your eyes widened in surprise. 

Princess? What Princess?

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