Final Part lll :— Crowned in flower and fire"
Just as King Minjung and Queen Kim Maeve stood at the precipice of their long-awaited confession—when truth finally threatened to break the chains of pride and silence—the past arrived dressed in blood and madness.
From a far and shadowed corner of the royal family came two uninvited guests again: Prince Nashimoto Morimasa and Miyabi Morimasa , Queen Kim Maeve's cousins—the children of her estranged aunt who ruled a cold and distant province of Dai Nippon Teikoku kingdom . Once banished from court politics, they now returned under the guise of reconciliation.
But their hearts carried poison.
Miyabi, beautiful and venomous also known as elegant princess, saw in King Minjung not a monarch—but a conquest. She played coy at first, trailing behind him like a perfume, smiling sweetly as she slowly tried to worm her way into his favor. Every touch, every whispered compliment was a calculated seduction.
Nashimoto, on the other hand, was nothing short of unhinged. He had always held a twisted obsession for Kim Maeve, masking it as devotion. But upon seeing her again—radiant and powerful beside her king—his obsession turned to envy, then to rage.
One moonlit night, as the Queen walked the gardens alone, Nashimoto struck. Masked, silent, and unrelenting. He tried to kidnap her, dragging her toward a waiting carriage beyond the estate walls.
But Lady Hannah—who had been watching from the shadows, ever Kim Maeve's silent protector—intervened. She fought him off with nothing but a jeweled dagger and fire in her veins. Wounded but undeterred, she got the Queen to safety.
At the same moment, Nashimoto launched a second, more insidious plan: an assassin's blade meant for King Minjung. But Lee Saejong, Kim Maeve's childhood best friend, uncovered the plot just in time. He intercepted the attacker, saving Minjung's life and earning the king's first true look of gratitude.
The next morning, Kim Maeve stood tall in the court chamber—no longer hesitant, no longer hiding her strength. She ordered the immediate exile of both Miyabi and Nashimoto, denouncing their blood ties and branding them traitors to the crown.
And that very night, in the silence of the royal library, King Minjung finally took her hand.
"I was a fool," he whispered. "A king without a heart is only a crown of thorns. But with you... I am more."
Queen Kim Maeve, cold to the world but soft in his presence, simply leaned her head to his chest. "Then let us rule—together. Not with fear, but with fire."
From that day, the kingdom saw a transformation.
King Yeon Minjung—still cold and commanding in court—became soft, almost childish in private. He would sulk if she ignored him, cling to her hand in secret hallways, and whisper his love like a boy who'd never known affection. Kim Maeve, once ice incarnate, became playful around him—jealous, obsessive, yet endearing. The fierce queen now made breakfast with her crown askew and war plans sketched between kisses.
As their marriage was announced, celebrations erupted, but so did new challenges—rival kingdoms plotting sabotage, old enemies resurfacing, and growing pressure to produce an heir. Yet the king and queen stood stronger than ever.
And while the crown shone over one love—another quietly bloomed in its shadow.
Lee Saejong and Lady Hannah, once orbiting Kim Maeve like loyal moons, found each other in the chaos. He, the noble-born protector, and she, the silent storm. Their first bond was shared loyalty. Their second—shared scars. And before long, shared stolen glances and gentle touches in passing.
Their love was quieter, tender. Born not of jealousy or obsession—but of kindred spirits who had watched others burn and still chose to bloom.
[Upcoming volume hints]:
Peace settled over the kingdom like a lullaby.
The royal wedding had Soon passed in grandeur, the King and Queen now also beloved symbols of unity, strength—and a love story that defied fate will be coming. But Their rule ushered in reforms, healing, and power.
But beneath velvet curtains and golden halls, an older shadow stirred.
In the deepest wing of the palace—the one the servants avoided, the one that smelled faintly of incense and blood—Queen Dowager Isolde stood before an ancient mirror, fingers wrapped around a black opal ring worn only in times of war.
Her lips curled into a smile that never reached her eyes.
"Let them have their fairy tale," she whispered to the reflection, "for even roses rot when the roots are cursed."
Behind her, a sealed letter rested on a silver tray—addressed to a forgotten ally from the far eastern isles. A man who owed her blood.
And in a locked drawer beneath her floorboards, hidden beneath silks, rested an old decree—signed long ago—declaring Seraphina unfit to bear the crown.
The kingdom cheered above.
But the true war was only just beginning.
And this time, it would not be fought with swords—
But with secrets.