So I pour another shot and I pretend that it's your lips
Chase you down another round until I taste your whiskey kiss
-Tomorrow tonight by Loote.

THE ROYAL SECRETARY nearly soiled his briefs.

In his years and years of service, he'd never seen the prince that severe. The demand he made—it shook the secretary to his core. He still remembered the prince's voice, giving him goosebumps.

In his daily attire of a white shirt and black slacks, he looked as put together as Jeongguk remembered that morning, but his face told a different story. He was detached. That light that made the Prince of Sykaria the nation's beloved, it shone brighter than it ever had, almost burning the young secretary.

His eyes had gone cold, steeled in a stern set. He'd never seen those before, so detached from emotion.

He was proud of his prince. Undoubtedly. He wanted to see his role model succeed, to take back what was so savagely snatched from him.

But he knew this was nothing short of a herculean task. It would take every little piece of Jimin's being to achieve. The two of them fighting relentlessly, a battle that would never truly end.

Still, it would be worth the struggle. He certainly deserved it.

He desperately needed to talk to someone about what he'd just witnessed. But how could he? The prince had trusted him with a secret he was sure even Jin didn't know of. And Jin knew everything.

Ambrosia walked beside him, the unlikely duo heading to the local art store to replenish the prince's recently depleted stock.

"I haven't seen the prince since last week," she began, "Any clue where he's gone and buried himself?"

"Well, Miss Kang," he lied straight through his teeth, "his schedule has been tighter than usual. You know, with the coronation being in barely four months."

"That's true," she mumbled, unsatisfied. It was still unlike him to vanish without a call or text.

Oh well, she thought to herself. She'd done the exact same thing a couple of months ago. Maybe this was his late onset payback.

It was August, and the Sykarian monsoon had reached the pinnacle of its ruthless wrath. It rained in sheets now, the ground always soaked, the air always damp. Ambrosia relished it, every moment. It was reminiscent of her childhood, the weather indistinguishable from what was once her home, all those years ago.

This had to be her favourite season of the year, the smell of wildflowers forever imprinted in her memory. Except the humidity that made her hair frizz up, she had nothing to complain about.

The prince's secretary opened the door for her, letting her into the passengers seat of her new car. Disgruntled and muttering curses at the young man, she got in. She absolutely abhorred having things done for her and they'd even had this argument before, copious amounts of abuses flying each way, but she'd finally agreed. When it came to stubbornness, Jeongguk was her only true match. He would drive, against her adamant wishes.

She would give him hell later, for she was far too concerned with Jimin's whereabouts to care.

"I was speaking to Jin the other day," the secretary began, "and he had something interesting to say about Aera."

"I can't believe this. Jeon Jeongguk has gossip," she faked a gasp, "Spill."

"Well, she's been gaining a shit tonne of followers lately."

"Okay...and?"

"With the coronation due in a few months, don't you find the timing a little convenient?"

Frowning, she connected the information to a piece of juicy celebrity news, accusing the star of purchasing followers, "No way!" She put her hands on her chest, tilting her body far back into the passengers seat.

"Yeah, exactly," Jeongguk nodded repeatedly, realising that she understood exactly what happened. He liked that about her. She was fast, and frankly, this past week had been fun. Lying to her about the whereabouts of his boss made him feel terrible, but he trusted the prince. He could see why his boss was so madly in love with her, even though he wouldn't openly admit it. The countless times he'd caught the young royal staring at pictures of her on his phone was a testament to his insanity.

"Who's doing that for her? Does Kangmin know? What about the King?"

"I have no idea. But as of right now, only you and I know. Not even Jin."

"This is exciting," she clapped her hands, the tea getting too hot to handle, "Ooh, wait! I think I saw something the other day and you simply have to hear about it."

His ears perked up, grinning as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road.

MOONLIGHT PAINTED her skin silver. As she stood in the balcony adjoining her room, so in raptures with the cool twilight, she hardly noticed when a man joined her, his cuffed sleeves resting on the metal railing. In the darkness, his silver hair shone, now long enough to get lost in his eyelashes. She recalled the last time she'd seen him with hair that long. It had to be back in Greece, where neither had a care in the world. That is, of course, except for the newfound sense of belonging they felt in each other's company.

It was easy to say that the time they spent together was but a fling, a lapse in judgement. But now, months after their sordid affair, she knew it was a lot more. From their first encounter, the vodka-laden night on the balcony, that day at the gallery. He'd been with her every step of the way, even when he barely knew her.

She hardly knew him either. But the draw between them, the invisible force that pushed the two together when all she wanted was her sanctity, that was insurmountable. Still, she didn't even have to look to know who it was. His presence, the aura was enough. The way the temperature dropped and all her hairs stood up whenever he came around told her more than she needed to know.

Scoffing, she reminisced the time back in school when boys were all the rage. Every conversation began with the buzzing of who-likes-who, and ended in rumours of tumultuous affairs and illicit rendezvous behind the school buses.

Although that was about the time she had to drop out, she recalled thinking that it was just so stupid. Boys, the drama, the crushing vulnerability. None of that for her.

Dreams of being a famous artist, selling her paintings in international galleries. Buying her parents a real house. That was what she wanted.

A silent chuckle escaped her lips. That girl would scoff at her now. At the way her entire life had flipped upside down. And all because of a boy.

That stupid, pretty boy.

She wanted to ask him where he'd been, what he was doing, whether he'd eaten. His absence coupled with the positive thinking she was so well known for, poked at her every insecurity.

"You look good in the moonlight," she complimented, putting her thoughts aside.

"You clearly haven't seen yourself, Ambrosia," he chortled, thrown off by the sudden compliment.

Smiling, she wove her fingers in his, resting their hands on the cool railing. A drop of rain landed on her arm, but she didn't care. It could pour, for all she cared.

Knowing that he hadn't seen any true appreciation, not from his brother, not from his joke of a father, not from the kiss-ass court officials, she'd made it a priority to let him know just how much he meant to the world.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you much this week," he began, honeyed voice carrying melodious notes of sweetness as he apologized. It was another one of his charms, one which Ambrosia had fallen for a number of times.

"That's alright. Your paints have kept me busy enough," she lied. She missed him. More than anything. Every day of the past week felt like a stab to the chest.

"Still. It's not been that long since you've started using them and considering your history, I shouldn't have left so soon. If anything —"

"Shut up, Sir-worries-a-lot. I'm an adult. I can take care of myself. Besides, Jeongguk is an excellent source of entertainment. Between him and Jin, I hardly missed you."

"That hurt, I won't lie," he stabbed an imaginary dagger into his chest, buckling under the pain of her betrayal, "But I'm glad you're doing well."

Rolling her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder, the feeling taking her right back to every night in a random hotel balcony, the stars witness to the end of yet another perfect day. She'd memorised the shape of his bicep flushed to her cheek, the way he looped his arm in hers, entwining their fingers together. He'd lean down every now and then, pressing an innocent kiss to her temple.

Words were a luxury, one they renounced the moment their souls collided that fateful night at the bar. The drop that landed on her earlier now morphed into a complete downpour. That—coupled with the humming of their heartbeats synchronising—had to be her favourite sound ever.

She couldn't get enough of this, of him. His arm around her waist, his cheek resting on her head.

Neither cared for the rain. It simply provided a soundtrack to the blissful solitude shared between them. The rhythmic pitter-patter of the now-raging downpour combined with the periodic movement of his chest as he breathed made her eyes droop. She never really let her guard down around people—not enough to fall asleep, anyways. But with him, she didn't have a second thought.

She held on to him, formidable in the belief that his warm body flushed to hers was the only true feeling in the world. The cold air, the coronation, her stringy hair—undoubtedly going to create mountains of frizz in the morning. None of it mattered. Not when they were together.

A smile bloomed on her lips, like a bunch of butterflies had just fluttered pass her lips. What she thought was yet another evening waiting for her prince to return ended in the most peaceful was possible. In his arms, in the night sky.

The rest of the night was a blur. They had started a movie at some point, the ending of which she couldn't quite remember. She didn't care to anyway, for she'd found some semblance of peace.

The last thing she remembered was Jimin's bracelet twinkling under the tv lights, his hands stroking her hair.

"You're up early," she mumbled, snuggling in closer to his chest.

"You look good in the sunlight too," he replied, a lazy smile spreading from ear to ear, "I can't help it."

"Can't help what?"

"Just looking at you. You seem happier."

She paused. Obstinate, determined, stubborn. For the past ten years, those were the only words used to describe her. Happy...well, that didn't even make the top fifty.

"Happier?" She asked, the word alien to her.

"Yeah. You're smiling a lot more. Ever since I met you, you've smiled maybe a dozen times in total," he tucked a few strands of stray hair behind her ear, "Sober, that is."

"Bullshit, that's not—" she began to retort, sighing as she realised for herself, "Yeah, okay. You're right."

He buried his head in the arch of her neck, exhaling deeply. He needed this. After the week he'd had, nothing felt better than Ambrosia's embrace. Running all over, consolidating the numerous assets he had, ready to be liquefied at the blink of an eye, hiding from his father as he did so. It wasn't easy. 

But he knew he needed to do it. For his nation, for her.

She shifted in his arms. Her thoughts had started running again, the devil whispering into her ears, picking at her insecurities like a bloody scab.

"Where were—What did you do all week? You're normally never this busy," Ambrosia asked, careful not to overstep any boundaries. Unable to see his face, yet the momentary slack in his embrace told her all she needed to know. He didn't want to answer.

"Well, you know how it goes. The work comes and goes in waves. I got pulled under a bit of a tide this time, is all," he mustered up. For a person who didn't know him, this would be perfectly convincing. But Ambrosia know better. The prince, although silver-tongued, had a few damning tells.

Her eyes felt empty, heart dropping to her stomach. He was lying.

But she couldn't say anything. How could she, after all. They weren't anything. Not boyfriend and girlfriend, not friends in any normal sense of that word. Employer and employee? No, that would just make the situation worse.

She dropped it.

Like she'd been taught so stringently to do to everything she felt strongly towards, she dropped the matter.

"IT'S SO PRETTY," she mumbled, the morning sun beaming on her skin. She loved it, the sunshine warm enough to spur even her cold soul. Like a fortuitous blush, the heat spread across her face, down her bare arms. She took a sip of her tea, resting the gold rimmed cup back on the railing.

"You're glowing," the prince mumbled, casually gazing at her. He'd missed these moments of tranquility, these snippets of peace in their ever-hectic lives. It was ironic, indeed, for she was the least peaceful part of his life, and yet brought him the most.

Watching her perform the most mundane of tasks had become a hobby for him. Be it making calls and abusing people on the other line, fiercely making notes and sketches of her latest ideas, tieing her hair up, doing her makeup... or you know, simply breathing.

But she truly looked the most beautiful when she painted. She liked painting in the late afternoons, with golden sunlight encompassing the world. He could tell that she loved it, the feeling of not knowing where the medium would take her next. As did he.

Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, he painted little kisses up her neck. She inhaled sharply, struggling to maintain a grip on her cup of tea.

"We need to get on with the day, Prince," she mumbled, not wanting him to stop, but it was 11 am. The official work day had begun two hours ago, "I'm meeting your father today."

He stopped for a moment, grunting as he did so, "Why would you bring that up, Am? I thought we were having a moment."

His annoyance was exaggerated, but that didn't mean he enjoyed hearing about his estranged family. Especially after the week he'd had.

"His Highness is coming to the chapel in about—" she glanced at her watch, "—forty minutes. And I'm still in bed with his son."

"Can his son pull some strings to have you here longer?"

"Do you want me to get fired for sleeping with my boss?"

"Who's going to fire you? You're sleeping with your boss."

"You're ridiculous," she rolled her eyes, the action not matching the wide grin across her face. Looking down at her attire of Jimin's dress shirt, she pursed her lips, "I need to shower and get some decent clothes on. I'll see you later?"

"How about you see me now, in the shower?" He turned to her and grinned, the near-noon sunshine bouncing off his smooth chest.

"What part of 'I'm meeting your father in forty minutes' is so hard to understand?" She huffed, rushing into the room and grabbing her clothes off the bed, "You better be long gone by the time I'm out."

"We'll be saving time. And water. It's a win-win situation, Am. You know it."

His last ditched effort was indeed in vain, for she slammed the bathroom door shut, booming a loud "BYE!" as she did so.

After ten minutes of hacking away at her long, wet, sopping mess of hair, she gave up. A messy updo would have to do. She was already dressed, Jimin's shirt from last night being the focal point of her outfit.

Grabbing her phone off the counter, she chuckled a bit. She would go meet her boss, her boyfr—no, paramour's father wearing his shirt. It was a dangerous decision, one which may end badly, but she'd taken enough of those recently. What's one more to the list?

A quick final assessment of her appearance solidified her decision. Jimin and her were almost of the same height, and he wore fitted shirts. She looked perfectly fine with it half tucked into a pair of shiny leather trousers.

She headed to the chapel and settled herself into the makeshift desk she and Yoongi had fashioned in the corner of the hall. It was functional, and that's all that matters.

Her assistant entered the room, carrying some paperwork. It wasn't what he was carrying or the fact that he had worn a dress shirt for probably the third time in his life that made Ambrosia frown. It was the immediate side eye he gave her the second he saw her.

"What?" She scouled.

"That's not your shirt."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because I've known you forever. And I've had to shuffle through your suitcases hundreds of time to look for documents and shit," he scoffed, "And has it ever occured to you that I care? And that I notice?"

A sneer was all he recieved, "Cover those carpet samples with a sheet or something. It looks shabby," she snapped her fingers. It was back to the no-nonsense attitude for the both of them.

They were strikingly like siblings. One moment jesting and poking fun at each other, and the next going about their business like the other never existed. That's one reason Ambrosia really liked Yoongi. She remembered when her mentor, Iseul had asked her if she needed a new secretary the first time Yoongi had fucked up. He'd accidentally placed a quadruple order of some white lillies the first time she gave him some responsibility. It was common for a wedding planner to flip out and fire everyone in her sight for an error like that. But she didn't do that.

She'd fucked up monumentally too. So, so many times. Iseul had the chance to fire her at any given point. If she had, Ambrosia would still be living in a slum, her mother selling her body for cash and her father selling his soul.

It was the way he handled that massive fuck up that really impressed her. He redirected the order to a bunch of other weddings held by their agency, designing a special "White Lily wedding package". It was expensive, and got them their money back. Of course, the Mumbai upper class went crazy for it.

With the duo hard at work, neither noticed when the monarch entered, a mini entourage announcing his arrival.

"Miss Kang, how's the preparation coming along?"

"It's going well, Your Highness. At this rate, everything will be done by October," she smiled. Gesturing to her secratary with widened eyes and gritted teeth, she reminded him to hand the royal guards a file, the latest progress report. Yoongi handed it to Hoseok who then presented it to the king.

He flipped through it, albeit unamused. He knew his son was handling the matter well enough, but he still had to check once in a while. It was simply a formality.

"That's good to hear," boomed the monarch, handing the file to a quivering Yoongi. He'd barely read it, but that didn't matter to Ambrosia. What he said next did.

"Miss Kang, my sons and I take a small vacation every year, barely a week every October. We weren't planning to go through with it this year, but since you're practically done with the planning, I think we can go," he shrugged, looking more and more like a squishmallow every time he did so, "I've noticed that my sons are fond of your company, so I'd like to invite you to come. And your secretary."

Am couldn't believe her ears. A vacation. With the King. Of a whole fucking nation.

And another vacation with him.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, "I mean, sure, Your Highness. I would be more than honoured."

"That's it, then. I'll have my guards give you the details when the time is appropriate," he nodded sharply at her, "I'll take your leave, Miss Kang."

Ambrosia smiled and bowed long enough that when she straightened her spine again, it was like no one had just been in the room.

"Yoongi!" She squealed, eyes wide and a massive grin spread on her face. The short assistant matched her energy, squealing and jumping.

"This is the first time I've seen you excited for a vacation. Should I know something?" He asked once the excitement died down.

"Come on. This is a vacation, but it's still work. We're travelling with a king. A fucking king. He's got rich contacts. We can meet clients and expand into bigger events—"

"Are you sure it's just the king's contacts you're excited about?"

"What are you implying?" She raised an eyebrow, daring him to come out and say it. He better not.

"This is going to be fucking hilarious," he grinned, knowing exactly what would ensue.

Authors note.

It's been a fucking while, hasn't it?

It's been absolutely insane. If you're someone's who's been reading since the beginning or started reading anytime last year, I truly appreciate you being here. You're a real one. If you're new, I appreciate you too.

This chapter has been kept prepared for a while but I am writing this authors note on bare minimum sleep having travelled for half of today.

I want to bring back the "guess what happens next" thing I did in the initial chapters, I hope you participate. Let's go.

What exactly is Jimin's plan?

Who is Jeongguk killing?

(This one is to see if you remember what's going on)
Where is Taehyung?

What's going to happen with Am?

That's it! Leave your requests here and have a good, safe day.