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This is a story about two royals who were abiding their parents wishes forcing them to enter an arranged marriage.
Question is will love blossom between them or will they resent each other?
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‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
The week flies by in a blur of preparations and hectic activity. The wedding is just around the corner, and the castle is abuzz with excitement and last-minute arrangements.
Yunho is busy handling the administrative aspects of the wedding, ensuring that everything is in order and no detail is overlooked. He givess you regular updates and reminders, his updates filled with a mixture of anticipation and stress.
In the midst of the chaos, you find solace in the garden, a quiet slice of tranquility away from the frenzy of wedding preparations taking place within the castle. Sitting on a bench, a canvas propped on an easel in front of you, you surrender yourself to the act of painting, allowing the brushstrokes to soothe your nerves and the beauty of the garden to inspire your creative vision.
Immersed in your painting, you are completely unaware of Yunho's approach. As he quietly walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, you jump slightly in surprise, your brush pausing mid-stroke.
"You could've messed up my painting Yunho." You say with a stern yet playful voice.
Yunho chuckles, the sound low and warm against your ear, as he feels you jump at his sudden presence. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbles, his grip around your waist tightening just slightly in a playful squeeze. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just couldn't resist coming to see my fiancé when she's in her creative element."
"How thoughtful" You replied with a hint of sarcasm.
He rests his chin on your shoulder, his chest pressed against your back as he takes a peek at your canvas. "What are you painting?" he asks, curiosity tinged with affection in his voice.
You take a deep breath before asnwering. "My late lovers favorite flower..."
Yunho's eyes soften as you mention your late lover and the flower that holds significance. He shifts slightly, his chin moving from your shoulder to rest on the crook of your neck, his arms around you keeping a protective, comforting embrace.
"A lovely tribute," he murmurs, his voice carrying a mix of empathy and respect. "What color is it?"
"Cyan." You reply.
"Cyan," he repeats, the word almost a whisper against your skin. A silent moment passes as he stands there, holding you and admiring the canvas, the flower you're so delicately painting.
After a few more seconds, he presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, his voice low and filled with sincere admiration. "It looks beautiful."
Yunho's hold tightens around you ever so slightly as he poses his question, his voice filled with a hint of hesitation. He knows it can be a sensitive topic, but his curiosity and desire to understand you better compel him to ask.
