Wait For It (M)
Anonymous Requested: Jungkook Royal AU
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Royalty AU
Word Count: 11,013
Author’s Note: I pretty much took a whole day off from life to work on this, since I start school on Monday and wanted to try and get through as much writing as I can before hell starts.
Summary: As royalty, you were forced to be sent off and married to a prince of the neighboring kingdom to strengthen your country. But when you are betrothed earlier than you expected, you seek comfort in a random stranger until you realize that perhaps fate plays a bigger hand in things than you ever thought possible.
For the record, you never asked to be a princess. Not that you think you would ever have had an upper hand in a situation like that in the first place, or that you expected things to be different if you could go back in time to watch your family history unfold. It’s just something that’s short, and simple, and a fleeting thought you ponder about on more than one occasion, which is certainly a lot more times than someone who was actually happy with their lives would think.
Now, it’s not that you’re ungrateful with the life you’ve been gifted with, you’re well aware of the luck you’ve received, because at the end of the day, it’s the kind of lifestyle that guarantees food upon the table. It promises a roof over your house during the night, during the rain or snow, (more than) comfortable clothing to keep you warm throughout the bitter winter. The gold and motivation and rule your family has over the kingdom is nothing to shy away from.
It just, it provokes a lot of… pressure in your system, in your heart and in your mind.
Most of these things sprout from your father, who is probably just as ruthless as he is caring and hard-working and passionate about the land he is expected to rule over with grace and respect and an equal amount of force to make sure the people of the kingdom didn’t take advantage of him. He’s always been a loving father, albeit expecting the most out of you between your two other siblings. As caring or thoughtful or empathetic has he could be, there were often moments in your life when your best was never good enough for him.
You’ve been taught since birth to follow the orders and rules set up by your father because, as so graciously pointed out by the servants the dusk and clean and care for you on more than one occasion, your father always did what he believed would be best for you. So every piano or violin or guitar lesson he ever made you take, those foreign language lessons, classes on discipline and how to look, think, behave like a princess—those were always for your own future benefit.
“Keep your back straight, shoulders back, smile pretty.”
“Always cut small pieces of your meal. Take small sips of your drinks. Always remember to wipe your mouth with a napkin.”
“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
It’s not that you hate being a princess. You just hate having things being done for you, you hate how decisions and that free-will of choice and responsibility has been ever-so-graciously lifted off your shoulders as if these were things you would never have to burden yourself with. You hate not having a voice, your words drowned by the ones of your father or mother. Your existence has constantly been overshadowed by those greater than you could ever hope to be. You hate the role you have to play into society, how you had to spend your days dealing with other people’s problems. Shouldering a kingdom is no laughing matter, there are rules and regulations and decisions that constantly need to be made to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone who live within the borders. Your mere existence is to live for other people.
But in spite of your feelings, you know that changing fate is practically impossible. So you roll with your father’s wishes, because you understand that this is duty you owe to your kingdom. Perhaps at the end of the day, it will truly never really matter what you desire. From the moment you were birth, your entire life story has already been written by you, the quill of ink belonging to your father and mother and every other person who thought they could know you better than you could ever know yourself.
You let yourself take everything in. You visit the nearby villages and listen to everyone’s problems, their hopes and wishes and promise to become stronger and stronger to help them. You take the lessons set up by your father. You keep your back straight, your eyes forward, your mouth shut. You accept the fancy parties and the wine, the dancing and the violins echoing through your ear, speaking only when you are spoken to. It’s torture, but you have to remind yourself that is it your duty, your obligation and your responsibility.
You even let your father tell you that there will come a day when you will be sent off to a predetermined prince in a neighboring kingdom, be married off into a family you don’t know and perhaps will never truly belong to—all for the benefit of your kingdom. You let him tell you this, and you accept it. You give yourself a few years to mentally prepare yourself, expecting your father at the very least to grant you this one wish.
A raised eyebrow. “But the prince could be ready to meet you any day now.”