glimpse of us . chan/minho

1.5K 24 14
                                    

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genre: royalty, fantasy au
word count: 7.4K
curated playlist: 
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5WEcyD2quG5dcYBWv7zJfz?si=4674f7a34600433d 
!! story requested by @mythicalCB , thank you !!
a/n:
I would say that after months of leaving this story on hold, I got back to it and have poured a lot of my heart into the plot (AHHHH) of course, while all the history and political systems mentioned in this story are fictional, I had a lot of fun exploring the different layers of tension and emotions involved in this fic - something more serious and new, but I HOPE that you guys still enjoy is nonetheless :) thank you once again for all your support (42.7K I AM CRYING) <3 
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Of all the things this king is capable of, he cannot fall asleep. His brain is far too active, somewhere distant and probably too far from his kingdom, his bedroom, his lover.

The king attempts, for the millionth time, to close his eyes, stop staring at that one spot on the royal bed's canopy and get some sleep. He nuzzles his face into his lover's hair - feeling her relax on his chest ever so slightly more. He takes in her honey-coloured skin, beautiful and tan, her soft features, her good girl faith. She's everything he's ever wanted. She's everything to him. But the king feels selfish, all the more. Because while his hands are round her waist, his mind is on the imminent war, and his heart is with the queen who once captured it and threw away the very key to its cell.

The king feels troubled. Guilt-stricken, for he knows deep down he's only in love with the feeling - a glimpse of what he could have had before misunderstandings turned into war and hard feelings turned into hatred.

Y/n doesn't deserve me.

The thought haunts him, as the nightmares pull him under.

~

"Sel?" Chan's mumbles gradually become pained cries, and it causes me to stir. I had been dreaming - well, reminiscing - of an ancient memory buried somewhere beneath years of royal academia and trained decorum - I recall the first time I met Chan, his highness (not yet 'majesty'), in his very own royal library. I remember being so terrified of the royal family, though our families were affiliated through some century-old treaty made by our ancestors. All the girls in my village always joke about marrying into royalty, and obviously me being the hopeless (and awkward) romantic I was, I had this huge crush on none other than Prince Christopher, the handsome, chivalrous son of the King and Queen of Haven. I saw him in person for the first time while wandering through the palace halls and ending up in the library. He was dashing, to put it simply, and I was head over heels for him. How we established a friendship and eventually ended up being engaged... that's a story for another time.

But being his fiancee - showed me a very, very different part of his life. Sel - Selena - was the Queen of Avalon - and very coincidentally his ex-lover. Also, did I mention she was half-psychotic and threatened to wage war on Haven for reasons I would not like to know? Okay, yes, I do not like her in the least. But Chan did, and he still does. He tries so hard to hide it in his daily interactions with people, in work, even when he's with me. But he can only suppress his emotions that much - his nights are plagued with thoughts, memories of her. And I bear the brunt of it. Is it worth it? Yes, because I've been in love with Chan for that long. Is it painful? Obviously.

I untuck my hands from under the duvet and place them gently on Chan's shoulders, running them down his chest, wrapping them around his neck. I feel him lean into my touch, the crease between his eyebrows fading just a little. I slowly press my lips to his jaw, whispering, "I'm here," and his breathing relaxes. Subconsciously, he pulls me in closer and I end up fitting my head in the crook of his neck as he begins to snore lightly, an indicator that his nightmare has passed. I let out a breath against his warm skin, as a fresh wave of jealousy, hurt and inadequacy rushes over me.

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