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Chapter Text

Maneuvering out of the parking space, Gon pushed the button that uncovered the skylight and watched out of the corner of his eye as Tae-eul, with deft flicks of her wrist and fingertips, unsnapped and put on her sunglasses one-handed. 

“You’re so cool.”

She laughed. “You’re a dork.” 

She looked out the window and then back at him, stroked his arm once, a fond caress that made him grin. He stopped the car just before the turn toward the road, so he could look at her fully, drink in her shy smile, her hand on her lower belly. 

“I don’t want to go home yet.” 

“Where do you want to go? Noona did say more sun for vitamin D.”

“Let’s take a walk in Munsan,” Tae-eul said quietly, with a nose scrunch that looked adorable beneath her sunglasses. 

Gon took Tae-eul’s hand and squeezed it. He did feel like praying, too.

Tae-eul squeezed back. “We can have gomtang in Jinju for lunch. Jangmi would like that. Would make up for how you’ve been abusing Jangmi lately. Seriously.”

Laughing a little, he let go of Tae-eul’s hand and put both hands on the wheel. Yeong and Jangmi were following behind them in another car. 

They merged with light traffic just post-rush hour. Gon didn’t know whether it was just him but Busan looked particularly beautiful that morning. 

Maybe it was just him. And Tae-eul. And their happy little secret. 

It sounded maudlin in his own head. He didn’t care.

They’d gone to Chae Song-eun that morning. For generations, the Chaes had long been Busan’s apothecary and medical family. They eventually ran the hospital by the sanction of the king. Their family home-- half the estate was a heritage site-- still operated as a private clinic, mostly for friends and neighbors who didn’t need or want to go to the hospital. 

And the royal family happened to be friends. There was even a shared ancestor somewhere when one Chae married a royal Lee and a royal Lee married a Chae. 

Chae Song-eun could have gone to the palace, but that defeated the purpose of secrecy. Lady Noh would have escorted the doctor in, fed her, and subtly milked her for information on the way out. 

Instead, Gon booked the appointment with his noona and he and Tae-eul had sneaked out. Only Yeong, Jangmi and Team One were aware. Lady Noh was probably aware, too, but she let them have their escapes and would just cast this back to them later if warranted. 

Alone in the car, they were free to talk about their little secret before and after the visit. 

Not that they talked much. Tae-eul fell asleep on the way there and fell asleep again now, her sunglasses perched on the tip of her nose. Gon smiled and gently reached over to push it back in place. 

There were a million thoughts clamoring in his brain and blood but just at that moment, Tae-eul asleep and healthy and looking so beautiful quieted everything. Like she always did. 

They arrived at the cathedral grounds at eleven a.m. He waited with the engine and air conditioning running until Tae-eul woke up by herself. It didn’t take long.  

He was grateful it was almost September. The weather wasn’t quite the cool crispness of autumn yet, but it was no longer muggy. He saw Tae-eul appreciating that too as she stepped out of the car. She still took off her light jacket, however. He draped it over his arm. 

Hand in hand, they walked in the patched and dappled sunlight under the trees. 

It was Thursday. There were a few older women around, church ladies, but they paid Gon and Tae-eul no mind. They were dressed casually. Tae-eul now sans jacket in a short-sleeved tee and jeans. He was wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled up, jeans the same pale blue denim as Tae-eul’s. 

They probably didn’t stand out at all, though he thought Tae-eul’s neck and creamy shoulders looked too eye-catching in the wide neck of her top. 

Tae-eul said his people really recognized him by his hair engineering, as she called it. With his hair down and without guards, he was incognito. 

Yeong and Jangmi were incognito, too. They were here somewhere, eyes on Gon and Tae-eul, fully armed, but Gon couldn’t see them. 

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Running your hand through your hair like you’re a walking shampoo commercial. Look, I think that ahjumma over there choked on her barley tea.”

He laughed. 

Tae-eul pulled her hand from his and started gathering her hair. She yawned. 

“Are you still sleepy?” Gon asked. Song-eun noona had said exhaustion would be prominent around this time. Tae-eul was practically building new organs for their little bean.

It was amazing. 

She was amazing. 

Tae-eul yawned again and shook her head.  

He watched her pull her hair up into a bun and secure it in place with the same black hair tie she always had and then took her hand again. He led her to the hanok church and they both looked around. In both worlds, their wedding had been in the Gothic cathedral, so this was the first time they’d gone inside the old hanok. 

He genuflected without letting go of Tae-eul’s hand. She did the same once he had straightened. She had done that for the first and only time back at their wedding here. She said it was because she was sucking up to God. Was she sucking up again now? It made him smile fondly. 

As they sat on a pew near the back, Tae-eul took off her sunglasses and leaned on him, her eyes toward the altar. They were quiet for several minutes. 

Gon prayed, but it was more of a rote recitation of adoration, contrition, thanks and supplication he’d learned from childhood. 

He watched Tae-eul instead. Marveled at her. She was what he was so thankful for. 

When she finally raised her head, he asked, “What did you pray for? Are you sucking up? Or are you threatening God again?”

She chuckled. “Well, a bit? But mostly I thanked Him. I’m so happy.” 

“Me, too.” 

“A little blood. A little pee. And it’s confirmed I’m going to be a--” She bit her lips, looked down, and then looked at him with a straight face. “Those tests usually just meant I’m clean and can proceed to renew my neuro-psych eval.” 

She held onto her straight face for one more second before having a giggle fit. Gon couldn’t help laughing with her. 

“I can’t believe--” 

Gon waited, watched as Tae-eul blinked back tears and swallowed. 

“You can’t believe what?”

“I can’t believe how much I already love this baby.” She paused there, taking a deep breath.  “And how scared I already am that something might happen. Don’t mind me. Just my cop brain talking.”

Gon’s first instinct was to assure Tae-eul nothing would happen. That he wouldn’t let anything happen. But that wasn’t true. King and cop or not, things could and did happen to them. And he wasn’t about to tempt fate. Not about this. 

So he tucked Tae-eul against his side and kissed her temple. Took a deep breath that didn’t dislodge the lump in his throat. He did his best to talk past it. “Me, too. To all you said. And don’t mind me either. Just my mathematician’s brain talking.” 

They sat quietly and he prayed a bit more. Let them be safe. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Please keep them safe.

“Gon, did you see the… that little poster outside seonsaengnim’s office?”

“You can call her eonnie, you know. She really wants you to. She likes it that she gets to be a big sister to the king and queen. What-- what poster? I was a little preoccupied by my wife.” 

“Well, you’re really lucky you’re married to me, aren’t you? Three-sixty recon.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It’s something in October. Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance. I should call seons-- eonnie about it. Do you think it’s morbid that I want-- Lady Noh will probably forbid me to even think about it.” 

There were several little posters in the hall along Chae Song-eun’s office. He vaguely remembered one about the NIPT, and one about removing the shame and guilt on bottle-feeding. 

It was just like his Tae-eul to remember the one poster most expecting parents probably didn’t want to acknowledge. 

“I don’t think it’s morbid, no. And no one can forbid you anything. Not even me.” 

She grinned at him. “Don’t let it get to my head.” 

She was so beautiful like this, like she couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. Gon grinned back. “I wouldn’t mind. You can order me around.” He waggled his eyebrows.  

Tae-eul looked at him the way she usually did when she thought he was nuts and then her eyes widened.  

“What?”

She pointed at his head. “You’re on fire. They don’t like you disrespecting this place. Let me put it out.” 

Gon laughed and fended her off as she started beating his hair none too gently. 

An ahjumma came in and they sat on their pew demurely, not touching, until he felt Tae-eul drop her hand on his knee, palm up. He slid his fingers between hers. And just like the first time she took his hand in a house of God, she pulled their hands to her lap. 

Only this time she pressed it against her lower belly. And smiled up at him, her eyes shining with their little secret. 

Chapter Text

January was white and still in Gyeoulgungjeon. 

Tae-eul and Gon veered off the shoveled paths in the grounds and made the first tracks on the pristine landscape in front of the palace. 

Gon had resisted at first. “I don’t want you to slip and fall.” 

Tae-eul looked at him like he was silly. “You won’t let me.” 

He fought a smile for three seconds before that dimpled grin she loved broke out and she poked his side. She loved him so much, but she seemed even fonder of him lately. It was ridiculous. 

Resisting the urge to kiss him, she continued walking, their gaits matched. She was tucked against him as they trudged on the snow. She loved that he could do that again. Her collarbone was healed. No strenuous movements, of course, but Gon could hug her and wrap her in one arm or both any way he wanted. 

It always made her feel so cherished and absolutely safe when he held her like this. 

And warm. Even though the temperature was cold, freezing. The snow crunched under their valenki boots. 

The sound reminded her of her aunt’s dogs when they were eating. 

She winced a little when she felt her stomach growl. Not related at all to her brain’s random analogies at the moment, but she could always eat. 

The front doors were already about sixty paces behind them. Should she double back? There was a plate of bukkumi in the den--

“Here.” 

Instinctively, Tae-eul took what Gon waved in front of her nose. He was looking at her like he loved her so much and she amused him so much. Like he was torn between kissing her or laughing. It was one of her top favorite looks on him, his dimples peeking, his gaze simultaneously intense and so happy. 

But she kept her face impassive as she peeled off the cloth napkin to reveal two of the bukkumi from the den. As if her mouth didn’t water the moment she felt what it was through the napkin.

He put the grease-spotted cloth back in his pocket. This time, she didn’t resist the impulse. Just pulled him down to her level so she could smooch him on the lips and cheeks. 

“Sharanghae,” she said with her mouthful of dough and delicious red bean paste. She fed him the other one and he finished it in one bite. 

And then she felt it again. This time it was a little different from what she thought was a growl in her stomach. 

It was a ripple of movement. 

She barely heard Gon’s saying, “What? What is it?” as she grabbed his arm. 

It was faint and then very distinct...swishing inside her belly. 

She dropped the bukkumi on the snow. Both her hands moved, one to her front, the other to her mouth.

“Little bean is somersaulting in here.” 

Her voice was squeaky and she didn’t care. And then she smiled at the look of utter joy and amazement on Gon’s face. 

“Really?”

His voice was hushed. Tae-eul nodded. And she squeaked a little when the little bean did it again.

Sixty paces were suddenly nothing. They were back inside the palace shedding coats and boots so fast it was like they flew. 

Little bean seemed to like bukkumi, jumping around whenever Tae-eul took a bite, making her laugh and gasp a bit at the sensation. Gon couldn’t feel anything even with his hand directly on her skin but his eyes shone and she couldn’t look away while both their hands pressed gently.

Little bean quieted and they thought that was that for now. 

Just for fun, she tried other food, like the dasik always supplied fresh alongside the pots of coffee, tea and hot chocolate on the sideboard, and the soup Lady Han had waiting for them to warm them after their walk. 

No movement for any of these. Even for hot chocolate. 

But one bite of another bukkumi and little bean nudged Tae-eul again. She laughed. 

“Aigoo. Or maybe little bean hates bukkumi? Is this complaining?”

“I always ate my food. I might look a little sad afterward if I had to eat spinach and green beans but I outgrew that quickly. I eat anything--” 

Tae-eul laughed again. “Maybe this one takes after me. I was a complainer. My dad said I should always speak up because he can’t read my mind. He regretted that.”

They laughed together. She finished the bukkumi in her hand and the little bean somersaulted again. 

Their eye contact broke as she looked down. She felt silly but she talked to her belly. “Do you like it? You’re welcome.”

Tae-eul pulled her legs up and leaned against Gon on the sofa, his arm around her. Around them, the den was a cozy mix of soft browns and blues. It used to be the queen’s drawing room, meant for receiving visitors, but since they decided they certainly wouldn’t receive any when they were here, they replaced the antique furniture with fat sofas and thick rugs and plump cushions on the window seats and the floor.

In winter like now, Tae-eul could imagine just lying down in front of the fireplace cuddling a sleeping baby or two. Roasting marshmallows on the fire. Listening to Gon read a fairy tale. 

In the summer, the rugs can be replaced with serviceable ones meant to withstand tracked in dirt and grass stains from the garden. Tae-eul could imagine the French doors wide open, and small kids launching themselves into the pool outside. 

They’d have to furnish the garden with more kid-friendly furniture. 

It made her both teary and excited and happy.  

In the meantime, she marveled as she felt the little bean do another cartwheel. 

Maybe time would come when she wouldn’t be in awe of all this, but she doubted it. Even in her next pregnancy. It was absolutely amazing that little bean really was growing inside her. And was a jumping bean now. Would soon jump in a pool. Would certainly jump on appa, too, demanding piggy backs or something. It was amazing.

Gon was still grinning that huge, boyish grin, watching her face as she just concentrated on feeling their baby, awake and active. He kissed her on the forehead and stroked down her arm. 

“It’s right on time, isn’t it? What does it feel like?”

“Like… a bit like your stomach rumbling. I thought I was hungry. And then that swishing I read about. Like maybe little bean is doing a hundred meter freestyle in the amniotic fluid.” They laughed at that. “And then like little taps and nudges. That’s when I had a bite of bukkumi. Feels like jumps of approval. And then more swishing.”

“What about bubbles popping? Isn’t that what they said?”

“I suppose? Yeah, I can see why they said that.”

“I can’t wait to feel it. Though I hope it doesn’t hurt you.” Gon patted her belly. “Be gentle to omma.”

“It’s also like when your insides turn over, you know, when you’re car sick or on a roller coaster? Or on a ridiculously bad elevator.” 

“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“Very weird. I almost sat down on the snow earlier.”

They laughed again. He kissed her again. On her cheek this time. And because he looked adorable and she really was so fond of him right now, she kissed him back on his cheek and on his arm. Their hands were still on her belly. 

They didn’t move for a long time. They just sat there and pointed out spots for toys and stuff like toddler-sized rocking chairs and horses and table sets, both indoor and outdoor. And she made him take away the bukkumi because she was stuffed. 

When they went to the CNU for World Day of Social Justice, little bean threw a fit at the students’ cheers. 

Tae-eul was used to the suddenness of little bean’s acrobatics by now, so she kept a straight face through most of the program and Gon didn’t notice anything. 

But the kicks and tumbles got a little violent when the thousand-strong whooping commenced. 

Just as well she was done with her speech. And her wince could well be taken as a reaction to the noise. 

Gon ducked his head and said to her ear, “Are you okay?”

She nodded. They were both smiling. 

She grimaced and put one hand on her face and the other on her belly when they were finally in the car. The walk had lasted for what felt like ages. Little bean was still throwing a fit and now and then a hit landed on her ribs.   

“Pyeha, Mama? Are you all right?” Jangmi sounded concerned as Tae-eul reclined her seat and Gon bent over her. “Do you need the hospital?”

Tae-eul waved a hand at him. “I think this will quiet down when you drive, Jangmi. I’m fine.”

So Jangmi drove. 

Gon was half grimacing, half grinning at how the little bean nudged his hand through Tae-eul’s belly. “You really didn’t like that noise, did you? Calm down now, you’re hurting omma.” 

It was some time before the little bean settled down. 

A few days later when Tae-eul drove to the chosen school to attend and congratulate the students on their commencement, Jangmi asked if he should warn the school about not being too loud. 

“No, that’s okay, thanks, Jangmi.” She wanted to see what little bean would do. She looked down at her belly and said softly, “I can take it. Don’t be picky about noise. You’ll have to get used to it.” 

And the little bean did kick and punch and generally stomped around at all the music and applause. 

Tae-eul relished it. She and Gon counted kicks and flutters and rolls and swishes. There was delight (and soreness) in having such an active baby. It was like Tae-eul was no longer alone. Her little tenant usually slept during long walks and car rides. And then there was something like nosiness in the way the little bean woke up when it was too quiet or when people were speaking. 

In March, she could barely sit through the Zero Discrimination Day panel. She listened and she was truly interested but the little bean seemed determined to have a say, too. 

Rubbing her belly might (and always did) attract attention so Tae-eul had learned to keep her hands on her lap when she was in public, even with her palms pressed on her belly. 

Little bean wasn’t content with that simple, unmoving contact. Probably wanted to play. 

Gong Ae-ra caught her eye across the table. And maybe there was some telepathic understanding between mothers. The attorney-general quickly--if abruptly--wrapped things up and led them all into short closing remarks until everyone bowed to each other and Tae-eul could finally leave the room. 

“Bathroom,” she said to In-yeong, and they fast-walked to the nearest one, already cleared by the time Tae-eul got there. 

Her phone started ringing while she did her urgent business. It kept ringing until she answered it when she was out of the bathroom and walking to her car in a route cleared for her. 

“I saw a photo from the panel. You looked distracted. Are you all right?”

"Your child kept stomping on my bladder. And my liver. And all my organs. We're good now. Kicking my waist instead. That favorite spot below my ribs that looks like it’s beginning to bruise." 

Gon chuckled because she was chuckling. “Ouch. I’ll tell that baby that’s not nice.”

When she got out of the building, she wasn’t surprised to see Yeong falling into step with her team and ushering her to Gon’s car.

For around five minutes, they played with the little bean, poking the knees and feet and elbows that jutted out until the car’s motion turned the kicks into softer flutterings and then the little bean went to sleep. 

When the car crawled in a stretch of slow-moving traffic due to a stalled truck, the little bean woke up with a kick that made Tae-eul’s eyes water. 

“OW!” 

“What is it?” Gon looked alarmed. Yeong and Jangmi both turned around to look at her.

Tae-eul tried to rearrange her face but it really hurt like the devil. 

She rubbed her side and leaned against Gon, hoping the change in movement would make little bean move. 

“Foot on my rib.” She gritted her teeth. Gon pulled her to lie down with her head on his lap. It didn’t work. She rolled on her other side. No dice. 

God help her, it was a little like being stabbed by Luna again. 

Out of desperation, she motioned for Gon to open the cooler in the center console. Yeong beat him to it and took out what his hands could grab: a bottle of water and a bunch of grapes. She pointed to the grapes. Gon took them and passed them to her. 

They were cold. She pressed them on her side even though she knew it was a futile attempt when the pain was radiating from within her. 

To her surprise, the foot moved away. Relief was instant and she sighed. 

“Huh. You don’t like that, do you? Stop kicking me like that.” 

Then she giggled at how funny it was that her baby was just as reluctant to have cold feet. Both she and Gon hated having cold feet.  

The car moved again. She heard Yeong update the team. 

Gon stroked her forehead and wiped the tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes. “That looked like it really hurt.” 

“It did. But it’s okay now. Just a few more weeks to go.” 

They beamed at each other. She really couldn’t wait to meet her little kicker. 

Chapter Text

Almost as soon as he heard that the queen was expecting, Yeong called his father and then ignored his father when his father interrupted him to say Yeong’s mother was also expecting. From the second round of IVF. Twins. 

Yeong was Captain of the Royal Guard and he could only handle so much.

His father just laughed at his silence over the phone line. 

“All right then, Yeong-ah. With the late queen, her labs were swept on random days, just in case a mole was keeping tabs. It was challenging to do, because they were labs. She also got mad as a hornet when her things were moved as much as an inch. In her case, it wasn’t some mad genius cliche with their system of messes. She was quite tidy. She was just worried about contamination. So we just sealed and restricted access instead.

“You can do the same thing. Her Majesty works from the palace so it won’t be too complicated, will it? 

“Good luck on Queens Day. Shouldn’t be too much of a nightmare. Just scan everyone. Don’t let them bring anything in. And all the vendors and providers bring in their materials and supplies on the days before, not the day of. Absolutely no exceptions.

“Everything else depends on the queen. And the king. I think I haven’t told you anything that wasn’t already in the books. I do wish I could be more helpful. Hmm. You know the late queen was only pregnant once. I don’t really recall much. Do you have specific questions? I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’ll adapt.” 

Yeong listened to all that, nodding as if his father could see him. This was their way. One talked, the other listened. “Thank you, Appa.” 

“Tell them congratulations. And if the king is sending a congratulatory basket, I want ginseng and your mother wants Lady Noh’s donuts.” 

Yeong sighed. 

Security on the queen didn’t change much. After all, she was the queen. Her protection had always been paramount. After the debacle with the chicken place in Seoul, the blind spot outside the study’s French window was fixed. Cameras installed. Watch established. Jangmi with zero inclination to leave his post until he knew without a doubt the queen was in bed. 

The queen carrying the heir did make one big difference. But one look of utter disdain from the king and Yeong knew that unless the king and queen left at different times or from different locations, there would be no driving either of them in separate cars at all. 

So, no change. What little they had to change didn’t really involve established or new strategies. 

He wondered if he should add them to the Royal Guard’s books or if there was a reason his father hadn’t taken note of these things either. 

Team One now carried flasks of water. Double-walled, vacuum insulated stainless steel that kept water in the same cool temperature it went in the flask. 

Jangmi carried two, one on each side of his chest. He called it additional and multifunctional bullet-proofing. 

Speaking of bullet-proofing, one sleek, bulletproof black car joined the royal fleet without any fuss or fanfare, except from the members of the Guard who knew cars. 

A note from the king told them it was the queen’s car. And this and all the cars they took also had sealed water bottles in coolers with biometric locks. 

But the flasks were safer and virtually inaccessible to anyone. When the queen needed to hydrate while outside the palace, the guard had water. 

Leaving the queen wherever she slumped into sleep also quickly took its place as an unbreakable protocol. 

Jangmi once found the queen asleep in the office, had tried to place a pillow under her neck, and got a tongue-lashing so nasty the queen later apologized with so much food and skincare Jangmi was probably set for two years at least, even with In-yeong making off with a jar and tube of this and that. 

Like everyone else, the king learned from Jangmi’s mistake and didn’t touch his wife even to adjust her for her own comfort when she fell asleep anywhere. Didn’t make any noise either. All phones in Gwangyeongjeon were switched to visual alarms. 

When she wasn’t disturbed from sleep, the queen was quite sane and sweet and normal. 

Though maybe it was because they kept her fed. Another protocol. Team One also carried snacks: whole fruit, gimbap, savory canapes. Also in insulated containers. Also additional bullet-proofing for Jangmi’s sizable barrel chest. 

The Royal Guard also developed a rare talent for not seeing the king and queen while still maintaining full periphery around the king and queen. 

Yeong stopped wincing internally soon enough. All the besotted looks and kisses and hallways cleared and doors locked in his face just came with the job, and if it went on the uptick since the pregnancy, it wasn’t like they hadn’t been trained for it all those months before. 

(His father still said Yeong had been spoiled by all those years of the king touching no one. Yeong’s father had borne so much more from Lee Ho being a bit of a stud since his teens). 

The Guard simply found a way to entertain themselves with it. The idea came from PM Koo, but it worked, and timing the king and queen when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other became a thing, next to competitive sprints, their talks over the audio, and making sure Jangmi knew none of them blamed him in the slightest after the queen’s accident. 

Jangmi still wept about it on those rare occasions he got drunk and the less rare days he was crashing from his caffeinated antihistamine. 

They had a rota of whose turn it was to assure Jangmi on those occasions. They took care of their big hoobae. 

Especially when the queen’s exhaustion returned on her third trimester, and Jangmi was once again guarding her fiercely and facing her wrath whenever she was roused from sleep before she meant to wake up. 

Yeong left that to his team. 

He really had enough to handle. 

He led the very thorough background checks on the team of midwives, medical and laboratory technicians, nurses, anesthetists, and other doctors and surgeons put forth by Chae Song-eun. 

She was still the main surgeon, but everyone else was also on call and also assigned a guard of their own-- at first for surveillance, and then to keep them clean and safe once they were deemed clean and safe.

Tae-eul would probably baulk if she found out Yeong knew each member of her little army down to their smallest habits, but that was security and Lady Noh wouldn’t have accepted digging any less thoroughly. 

Or maybe Tae-eul knew, because she hadn’t named a doula. Yeong had no earthly idea what a doula was. He had to research it when he saw it on the doctor’s list along with the proposed names. The queen hadn’t chosen one. And this doula would have been the most stringently screened in the team. 

Well, one less person to think of.

While Seung-ah and her team were up to their eyeballs standardizing a protocol for the church bells, reviewing proposed light shows, stamping thank you letters for the gifts flooding in, and sending new flags across Corea-- anyone with a public establishment can ask for one-- Yeong was up to his upswept hairline in reports of telecom records and purchase histories. 

On top of all this, on random hours of the day and night, the king called him and asked if they spotted anything suspicious. Yeong invariably said no. But he’d since learned to mention details so the king would have something to grab onto and discuss. 

Like electric strikes and Wi-Fi and ultrasound and telephoto lenses and some of the gifts they’d scanned and stored. 

“Let him talk,” his father had said. “Let him quiz you about the day’s security. He’s probably a little lost about what to do. Most dads work or stay up nights trying to make good money in the stock market and cryptocurrency like I do. It’s instinct to try to do your part when your wife is pregnant. The king has nothing to do. Let him be a nuisance for a bit, Yeong-ah.” 

So Yeong listened between the lines and understood his hyung’s anxieties. 

When he wasn’t engaged in his duties, the king cooked. Yeong was convinced the king would have cleaned if he knew anything about cleaning. But his odd calls aside, the king was pretty steady. The king and queen were both steady. For which Yeong was grateful. 

One day when the king just casually pulled the queen out of a near catastrophe at the top of the staircase, the queen exploded. 

“Why are you so calm? I like that you’re calm but aren’t you scared at all? It’s making me feel ridiculous. I’m about to give birth and I keep reading about the ring of fire and I’m freaking out about that and I almost fell down this staircase and why can’t I walk properly--”

Two members of the staff who happened to be in the vicinity melted away at Yeong’s nodding signal that they weren’t needed. 

Then he turned to the king and queen, his hyung and his noona, ready to offer help. 

But he also wasn’t needed. 

Gon pulled Tae-eul away from the stairs and sat her on the wide sill of the two story window that faced the staircase, on one side of a wooden sculpture that Yeong moved several inches out of the way so Tae-eul wouldn’t feel cramped. 

As he resumed his duty stance, Yeong saw Gon take Tae-eul’s hand and place it over his chest. Yeong angled his head until they were out of his periphery. 

“You can’t walk properly because you’re thirty five weeks pregnant and your center of balance is, well, off-center. I’m far from calm. Can you feel that? My heart’s beating out of my chest. Tae-eul, that was terrifying. Please don’t let go of me when we’re walking. And I’ve read about the ring of fire. I wish I haven’t read about the ring of fire but our books are so graphic and realistic I think Song-eun noona just wants to torture me--”

Yeong heard Tae-eul sniff and laugh.  

There were rustles of movement and Yeong turned to attention. Gon had helped Tae-eul to her feet and they started going down the staircase again. 

With Tae-eul’s arm and hand in his, Gon continued talking. “I feel like I have no right to be scared. I’m not the one about to give birth. But I’m right here with you in every terrifying thought you have, times ten, because I have an excellent memory. All the videos we watched are here inside my cranium. Did you see the...” 

Yeong shuddered. 

He heard Ho-pil in his ear. “Seonsaengnim, please turn off your mic.” 

Yeong turned it up instead. 

Another little protocol. If he suffered, everyone suffered. 

He didn’t quite mean that, of course. But fate picked that from his brain and chose to be funny. With its ridiculous sense of humor. 

There were no cliche omens or signs that the day was going to unfold like it did. He woke up at five, sent a message to Seung-ah that he was awake, and then drank down the hot lemon water on his nightstand. 

He asked for the queen’s status as soon as he was done. 

Jangmi said the queen was in her room, having her first breakfast like usual. 

At eight, Jangmi reported the queen was back asleep, like usual. 

At ten, Jangmi said the queen was in the stables with him. 

What the fuck.

Jangmi wasn’t fazed by Yeong’s reaction and continued before Yeong could apologize. “Everything’s fine, seonsaengnim. Lady Maximus is in her stall. Her Majesty is just talking to her. And the Hanoverian.”  

“I’ll be right there.” 

The king’s stable smelled of herbs and horse and… he suddenly didn’t know why he’d been so worried. Actually, he did. What if Tae-eul got kicked? But as Jangmi had said, Maximus was in her stall and Tae-eul was safely outside said stall, completely outside the danger of hooves. 

The stable just looked bright, warm, and peaceful like always, meant to keep horses calm and happy. 

He felt that calm seep into him, too. 

Tae-eul was in comfortable boots and a blue coat dress, finishing brush in hand, talking to Maximus as she brushed. Jangmi had his eyes on her while brushing Tae-eul’s still unnamed blood bay on the opposite stall. 

Jangmi nodded to him in an on-duty salute and then reported in a low voice, “Her Majesty had breakfast and then told me she wanted a long walk. We ended up here. She made me brush this one so she wouldn’t feel neglected. In-yeong is on standby with the golf cart.” 

Yeong approached Tae-eul just as Maximus laid her nose on Tae-eul’s shoulder and gave a loud chuff. Gentle, but still audible. 

“Really?” said Tae-eul. “That’s unacceptable. I’ll let the stablemaster know you’re not getting enough oats.” 

Maximus made a pleased sound and Tae-eul chuckled. 

“Oh, annyeong, Yeong-ah. Did you sleep well?” 

He was just about to return her question when he saw Maximus turn her head to him. He had one second to notice that glint of mischief before Maximus tossed her head and then snorted snot down Yeong’s front. 

Yeong looked at the veritable sheet and globs of snot on his suit. 

Jang-mi did that honk when he burst out laughing but tried to take it back. Tae-eul was apologetic and sympathetic at first, but that honk made her laugh instead. 

And then she suddenly stopped laughing. 

Yeong and Jangmi and the two horses froze. 

“I-- I need to go back to my room.”

Something in the slight tremor in her voice set alarm bells twanging in Yeong’s head. 

Jangmi was whispering rapid-fire to In-yeong in his earpiece. No trace of laughter in his face. 

Yeong supported Tae-eul’s elbow. The finishing brush was forgotten on the floor. Both her hands were cupped under her belly. “Mama-- noona, what is it?”

Tae-eul just shook her head. “Nothing. I just need to lie down, Yeong-ah.”

Through the open stable doors, he saw the golf cart cruise to a stop. 

Everything was in sharp detail. Maximus’s soft whicker of goodbye as they left her stall. The black and cream paint of the golf cart. In-yeong’s creased expression. The sky a brilliant blue. Cherry trees in bloom across the grounds. 

And Tae-eul’s barely-there wince when she sat down. 

Yeong didn’t even feel the snot his hand passed to get to his inside jacket pocket and his phone. He speed-dialed Chae Song-eun. 

“Seongsaengnim, please stand by. Don’t leave the hospital.” What he didn’t say: Don’t come here for your appointment. We might come to you. 

The doctor knew protocol, knew Yeong’s tendency to speak on a need-to-know precision, and only huffed, yes of course, she’d wait. 

Tae-eul heard him clearly but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t seem to speak. Yeong watched her but if he hadn’t been with her for the past few minutes, he wouldn’t have guessed something was wrong. Her gaze was on the palace grounds, the trees. Her breathing even. Even her hands were only touching her belly. Nothing tense about her. 

He blinked at his phone. He had speed-dialed the king. The call was not connecting. 

Fucking hell. Was it protocol that he and the Royal Guard would end up hating it when either of these two went to London? 

Chapter Text

Tae-eul had her snippy moments. Poor Jangmi was often the recipient. But for the most part, she stayed magnificent. Gon was fascinated and a little terrified and enamored. 

When they were considering names, he and Tae-eul agreed easily, almost too fast. “So we’re set on the names then,” she said. “I don’t know what the fuss is about.”

When they were talking about their birth plan, she listened to Song-eun noona’s advice and signed off on decisions without fuss. “The birth plan is, we’re ready, and I’m just going with whatever happens. Here or in the hospital. I feel like I will go to the hospital for this. I always go to the hospital.” 

“You won’t be able to sneak out this time.”

She rolled her eyes and continued, “But at the same time, I want to keep the little bean to ourselves, you know? I hope we don’t ever need the cord blood. And are you sure you can hold the little bean?” 

“You know, I could probably ask noona if I could practice. I’m sure some mother will be glad to have the king catch her baby.”

He was horrified to see her half disgusted and half seriously considering it. “I was joking, Tae-eul.” 

She laughed. She was so easy to rile but much easier to amuse. Lady Noh said the baby would be such a happy baby. 

Gon stared at Tae-eul now. She was putting her hair up into a bun. 

She had done this countless times in front of him but he still hadn’t tired of it. This whole bun thing was fascinating. Quite unlike tying her hair in her signature ponytail, though still the same casual elegance. 

Tae-eul’s hands expertly spun her hair into a twist, and then she’d turn that twist into a bun she fastened into place with a hair tie. 

When she let it go, the bun would loosen. It looked floppy sitting on top of her head like it could go undone any second, but didn’t, just teasing him with the possibility of his wife’s fragrant hair unwinding and falling down her shoulders. 

He blinked and looked down at the counter. Chopping board. Vegetables. Right. 

They were in the kitchen, cooking. Most Corean dishes only kept for four to five days at most, so Gon was making Western dishes that stayed good in the freezer for reheating, just in case he became too busy with the baby or simply too reluctant to leave Tae-eul’s side to cook.

Beef stew, lasagna, beef bolognese sauce, potato soup. 

Lady Noh shook her head and rolled her eyes, but it gave him and Tae-eul something to do. Something to keep Tae-eul from trying to do laundry or clean the bathroom. And biting Jangmi’s head off for breathing wrong.  

Gave them an excuse to hole up in their kitchen even if they just ended up cuddling. Or more than cuddling.

Tae-eul was quiet at the moment, leafing through an English cookbook. She was so beautiful. Her hair both lighter and darker somehow, thick and shiny. Her eyes so bright. And she was so content and happy, smiling quietly while her hands were busy, and if they weren’t, her hands were patting or stroking her belly. 

She was all those things before she was pregnant-- beautiful, content, and with an unshakeable inner confidence-- but it was different now. Magnified. She was more breathtaking, more beautiful, and he couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off her. 

And how could he anyway, when she was also so affectionate? Sometimes he’d be working in his office and she’d saunter in-- well, waddle as her pregnancy progressed-- with that look in her eye. 

She’d go straight to him, perch on his desk, and say something like, “Why are you so handsome? I just want to rip your pants off.”

And then she’d giggle at the ridiculousness of the statement, tell him between giggles that she’d read it on a comment online, go away to pee, and then return and perch on his desk again and just look at him until he got up and kissed her. 

These days, he couldn’t not kiss her. 

She was growing their child in her womb. He found it utterly amazing, and she was utterly gorgeous. 

Compounded with how she initiated sex in her simple and innocent ways like she’d rarely done before, and it enflamed Gon so badly he could think of nothing else for hours and even days afterward. 

“Did you hear me?” Tae-eul asked. 

Gon nodded. He always heard her. Whatever it was she’d said. 

Then he put down whatever it was he’d been fiddling with on the counter and gave in to the temptation of pulling that precarious, wobbly bun free. 

He buried his face in her hair and nuzzled her neck.  

Tae-eul hummed and leaned against his embrace. “Do you really have to leave?”

That was like a blast of cold air between them and Gon hugged Tae-eul tighter because of it. He led her to the breakfast nook they’d recently installed in the kitchen, sat down, and gently pulled her to his lap. 

She burrowed her face in his neck, her long inhale raising goosebumps on his arms. 

He pressed his lips to her hairline. She smelled so good. “If I go now, I won’t have to go anywhere when the little bean is born. My only plan is to be with you then. Both of you. The crowned heads of Asia and Europe can get married and buried and I won’t go anywhere.” 

She sighed and nodded.

“He was polite and nice. Really tried to talk to me through the interpreter and even said a couple of words in Corean. And they seemed so sweet together, too. I know they went through a lot and it wasn’t always smooth waters but never mind. I want the seventy years part. We’ll grow old together. But I get to die first.” 

Gon bit her softly on the shell of her ear for saying such a thing. “God forbid.”
 
This bite led to a kiss which led to Gon glancing at the door to check the panel indicating the lock was engaged. 

Making love to Tae-eul was natural, sweet, necessary. She told him she loved the feeling of closeness, the absolute intimacy. The assurance that he was there, safe with her. He felt the same. An urge to cleave to her, and never let go. A hundred times over. Had always done since the first time he saw her. And always, even beyond those seventy years she wished for. 

She kissed him and smiled at him afterward, shivering a little, biting her lower lip as it trembled. He could see her eyes misting over. And then her brow was furrowing like it usually did when she felt like she was being overdramatic, scowling at herself and swiping at her brimming eyes. 

She looked adorable but he didn’t dare smile. “I don’t have to go, you know.” 

She shook her head, her scowl disappeared, and she smiled and kissed him again. Then she said impishly, “And you know bad things happen when we go to London.” She wrinkled her nose. 

Gon grimaced. “I can’t joke about that yet.”

“Joking about it is good for you.” 

“Maybe in a few years.” He kissed her as he resettled her in his lap, pulling her dress and everything back in place. 

She sighed. “The poor queen.” 

“She’s strong. She’s probably been preparing for this--”

“I meant me.” 

This time, he did laugh. “I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll be as quick as I can.” 

He shouldn’t have gone. What was he doing anyway, flexing his patience? It wasn’t like he hadn’t done that since he could remember. All his life was patience and decorum and diplomacy. It was good training for all he had to grit his teeth and endure when he finally met Tae-eul and she thought he was a creative idiot, and after, when they had to fix things, and after that, when he had to look for her again.

And now when they were married and about to have the sweetest thing in the universe, every hour he was away from her, away from them, was just an exercise of frustration and displacement. 

He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. 

He had flown the king and queen of Bhutan in his jet, and they were hosting him in their townhouse in London. 

One look at him as they sat down to dinner and both of them told him to go back. Something they’d already said before the jet even started taxiing on the tarmac in Corea. 

They didn’t even have to convince him. He was mad to have gone. Why did he leave? 

So he wrote a letter for the queen of England, left it with the queen of Bhutan, and then told Sub-captain Seok he was going back home. What little had been unpacked was packed. 

And then he was driving through London at a quarter past nine, to Farnborough which was thankfully on standby for 24 hours because of all the VVIPs who had descended into the UK in their jets.

He and Secretary Mo continued to arrange things during the hour’s drive. Guilt-driven, last minute letters, calls, and gifts for those he was supposed to meet. 

By the time they were done, they were climbing into the jet. He debated on telling Tae-eul that he was on his way home. But it was around eight in the morning in Corea. She would already be back asleep after the little bean waking her up at four a.m like clockwork. 

His impatience to get back to his own kingdom ended up deciding things for him. His pilots and the tower made quick work of take-off and he lost reception. It would have to be a surprise then. 

“How long will the flight take, all speed?”

“About eight hours, Pyeha.”

He smiled. “All right, let’s just sleep then.” 

Secretary Mo and Sub-captain Seok nodded and retreated. 

Someone dimmed the lights and Gon slept, the entire day’s anxiety soothed by the knowledge he’d be back home with Tae-eul in the time it took to have a good chunk of sleep. 

He woke up when the jet quieted after landing. Perfect timing. 

He reached for his phone to call Tae-eul, but paused when one and three knocks sounded on the door of his sleeper cabin, the cadence that meant urgent. “Enter.” 

Secretary Mo said, “Pyeha, Her Majesty the queen is in labor.”

Chapter Text

Tae-eul was restless. She’d been restless since March. It was nerves, excitement, the little bean kicking her awake all the time, and impatience to give birth so she could feel comfortable again in her own body. 

And drink. She missed beer and soju. She missed somaek. She even missed the prissy, expensive, European wines they served when they hosted foreigners. 

She also missed spicy food. She had to stop when she got heartburn and she discovered why it was called that. She thought she was having a heart attack. But no it was only a combination of spicy food and her little bean pushing her stomach acid up to her esophagus. 

Feeling that once was enough for a lifetime. So she just abstained. She had enough nerves without courting additional palpitations from acid irritating her chest. 

The nerves were for the statistics on preterm deliveries so her impatience was just a matter of course, not an actual wish to deliver before she was due. 

But even though she was terrified because she still knew nothing about all this despite all the books and online articles and guides and videos she took in, she was really excited to meet the little bean. 

Excited to see Gon as a father. 

It made tears sting her eyes every time she thought about it. It was ridiculous. So she didn’t think about it. Whenever she had good days of high energy, she drove around Busan and neighboring cities and meddled with the flower festival preparations. 

Lady Noh and the Guard had no protests. They probably thought it was better than Tae-eul trying to install shelves or looking for tongs or egg slicers in the kitchen. Sometimes she had random urges to check for random essential things like that. 

And Jangmi omma apparently advised Jangmi to let Tae-eul out as much as possible because she would soon be confined at home with the baby. 

Gon had no opinion. As long as she was happy and safe, he was fine. He even came with her sometimes but usually stayed in the car. 

And then Lady Noh pleaded with them not to tempt fate too much especially now when Tae-eul was so big and the birth was imminent. She gave them talismans for their pockets and asked Gon to go in a separate car. 

They went on one trip like that, in separate cars, and felt silly about it. Part of the fun of going out was the car ride, playing with the little bean if the little bean decided to be a jumping bean, or just talking, their arms intertwined.  

So after trying going out in separate cars, they just decided to stay in and roam the grounds. Like they often did, only this time they stayed out of certain gates. 

But sad circumstances decided things for them, and Gon had to leave for London, and Tae-eul’s roaming snapped back to nesting, with Tae-eul in the nursery folding and refolding baby clothes lovingly made by the Royal Wardrobe. 

Four a.m that Sunday morning, the little bean woke her up with a round of hiccups. 

She got up to pee, groaned at the soreness of her back, brushed her teeth, drank a glass of water, and then undid the good she just did for her teeth by popping a lemon-ginger drop. It soon soothed the hiccups and the little bean started to squirm. 

She reached for her jar of cocoa butter and stroked her belly with the cream. “I miss your appa. He’ll be back tomorrow.” She chuckled when an elbow or heel stuck out. “You miss your appa, too? He’s usually the one to do this, isn’t he? Can you feel the difference?”  

Within an hour, she counted three kicks, five wriggling, six attempts to twist. 

Lady Noh and Chung-cha came with her breakfast and ate with her for companionship. Lady Noh only conceded to drink tea, not quite as modern as Chung-cha in being able to eat with the royalty she served. 

The little bean fell asleep with soft little dreaming movements, burrowing like a little puppy. Tae-eul stroked her belly. “Do you think babies get meat coma while in here, too?” 

Her breakfast was usually galbi, fish or eggs, and her daily fistful of walnuts. That day, it was galbi, rolled omelet, spinach namul and bugeoguk. She ate everything. Maybe the little bean felt as full as she did. 

Chung-cha grinned. “Well, you do fall asleep again, too, Mama.” 

Lady Noh had frowned at first, not understanding meat coma, but she soon understood and just went back to her serene expression. She looked quite happy and content these days, especially since Tae-eul always ate what was given to her.   

“The seonsaengnim will come today for my checkup,” Tae-eul suddenly remembered, and then felt silly at her outburst, as if these two women didn’t already know her schedule. 

Chung-cha only said, “I’ve laid out your things, Mama.” Tae-eul wore wrap dresses when she had her checkups, as opposed to her usual leggings and jeans.  

Lady Noh said, “You’ll have lunch with her as usual?” 

Tae-eul nodded. And yawned. It was only six but she was ready to go back to sleep. She could have done some work until eight. But yeah, she had to get horizontal or she would fall asleep on her breakfast table.  

The two women helped her back into bed, an arrangement of blankets and pillows to accommodate Tae-eul’s persistent backache. 

Tae-eul soon smelled lavender and eucalyptus in the room. It helped with all the discomforts she had, and even the little bean approved with a little wriggle-stretch that made Tae-eul gasp and hiss. She chuckled breathlessly as it ended, waving a hand at the ladies that she was fine.  

She dreamed of that first evening she met Gon. Of popping on her bubble light, chasing him down Gwanghwamun in the middle of rush hour traffic, and then the way her heart stuttered in her chest when he turned to look at her and stared at her with that discombobulating recognition and awe. 

Her heart was still thudding as she woke up. She blinked several times and had to reconcile her reality with her dream. Gon was now her husband, not some handsome, costumed lunatic.

And his child was in her belly and said child was quiet but everything else was hurting a little, from her chest down to her thighs. 

After several seconds and a few shifts on her nest of pillows and blankets, she was fine again. But that took half a minute of gentle flailing in bed like an upset turtle. 

She reached for her phone and dictated her notes so she could tell everything to Song-eun eonnie later. These had started shortly after her last checkup last week. She wasn’t complaining if it meant her body was just preparing to deliver the little bean.  

In the meantime, she had to get out of that room and get some fresh air (After going to the bathroom anyway). She had an urge to visit Maximus and her horse. She didn’t even know when Gon had last gone to the stables. He was always by her side, and now he had flown out of the country. Poor horses. 

Dressing was a little complicated that morning. It seemed like ages before she was wearing the simple pink wrap dress. Her back and pelvis were killing her so she had to sit down, stand up, and ended up on her feet, leaning against the door jamb of her closet until Chung-cha had tied her belly sling and she experienced some relief from the pressure. 

Chung-cha wiped Tae-eul’s forehead and cheeks. She had actually sweated while dressing even though she hadn’t done much. 

“Are you sure you should walk, Mama? Maybe you should wait for the seonsaengnim in bed?” 

“Ugh no, I need to walk. Don’t look like that. I have Jangmi. And you know In-yeong always trails us with a golf cart.” When Chung-cha still looked pinched, Tae-eul added jokingly, “And the chopper is kept ready for takeoff.” 

An hour later, she was on that chopper on the way to the hospital. It was surreal. 

“I’m going to lie down. I’m fine. I’ll ring if I need you. Don’t worry, Lady Noh. Yeong already called the seonsaengnim.” 

Then she had sent everyone out of the room, changed into dry underwear, lay down in bed, checked the time, and waited. 

Yeong had said he couldn’t get in touch with Gon. Tae-eul tried, even though it was two in the morning in London. She couldn’t connect either. 

The little bean was quiet. She waited but nothing happened. It was so easy for her to fall asleep, so she did. When she woke up, forty minutes had passed and she could immediately tell that no, she hadn’t just leaked in the stables. Not her bladder, anyway. 

She went to the bathroom. Her underwear and pantiliner were soaked. Clear fluid tinged with pink. Smelled faintly like bleach. 

Her water had broken. And there went her mucus plug, too. 

She changed into clean underwear again. She went to her dressing table and tied her hair. The soft boots she’d kicked off when she went to bed were nowhere so she just went into her closet and slid into the other pair Chung-cha had set out. Pink, low wedges. They were padded and comfortable. She sighed. She put her coat back on. 

Lady Noh, Chung-cha, Yeong, Jangmi, In-yeong all rose when she waddled into the sitting room. 

“I’m going to the hospital, Lady Noh.”

She’d spoken only those words in that space of time. Everything was done with smooth efficiency, she was ushered to the helicopter, and they were in the air. . 

No one spoke. No one asked questions. She liked that they trusted her decision. Or maybe there was something in her face that told them she didn’t want to talk. No one gave her any looks that would drive her to the edge either. 

The fact was Tae-eul was afraid that if someone spoke to her, the first sound that might come out of her was a whimper or sob. 

Her heart felt like it might fly out of her ribs and either she was sick to her stomach or she was having heartburn again or both.  

She was terrified. Gon was supposed to be here. Her appa was supposed to be here.  

Now her water had broken, she was on her way to the hospital, and neither of them where there. 

She wanted Gon. She wanted her dad. She wished for her omma. 

And most of all, she was worried out of her mind. She wasn’t quite thirty seven weeks yet. Her little bean was early, not by a lot, but still early, and being early came with a host of risks she didn’t want for her baby. 
 
She reviewed her notes on her phone. Four a.m, six a.m and nine a.m today when she’d had what she thought were stronger and longer than usual Braxton Hicks. And her backache, only soreness and discomfort before, had become an outright nagging pain since yesterday. 

Had she been in labor all this time? 

Song-eun eonnie met her at the helipad doors, not even blinking at the sanggung, three court maids in black uniforms, Chung-cha, and the six members of Team One in their black suits and dark sunglasses that surrounded her and Tae-eul. She just smiled at them all and ushered them all inside the elevator. Tae-eul loved her at that moment. 

“You’ll be fine, Mama. We’ll get you checked. I might just send you back home, you know. But then your suite is ready and it’s phenomenal. We might as well use it. You can stay with me for weeks until you give birth.” 

Tae-eul opened her mouth to say her water had already broken but her reply ended up as a hiss and a groan as her belly clenched. 

And stayed clenched. It was agony.  

Song-eun watched her and held her hand through it as the lift glided down. “Okay. Okay. Good. Keep breathing. Good. Ahhh. Thirty-six seconds. And we’re here.” 

“Crimson Phoenix.”  Their express lift smoothly glided to a stop and Song-eun quickly pressed her badge to the access panel at the same time it scanned her fingerprint on the button. 

The disembodied voice of the lift said welcome and things were very quickly done again. 

Tae-eul was situated with her scans and monitors and the suite emptied within fifteen minutes. 

Only Lady Noh stayed, though perhaps because Tae-eul held her hand as Song-eun examined her. But Tae-eul knew Lady Noh would never leave her. Not without Gon here. 

“Mama. Tae-eulie. That was definitely your amniotic fluid. And you’re about sixty percent effaced. Three centimeters dilated. It’s all right. You’ll stay here with me and let’s see how things go. Little bean seems fine. Heart rate’s good. Yours too. You’re both fine and healthy. I was worried about the positioning when you told me about your backache but the little bean is quite nicely situated.” 

Tae-eul bit her lips to stop them trembling. She took a deep breath. “But… but it’s still so early, isn’t it?”

“Not too much. Maybe the little bean is simply ready. Firstborns can be unpredictable like that. They come early or late. 

“Up to you what you want to do. Eat, sleep, walk. You can even go back to the palace and we have the equipment there, too, but it seems silly now you’re here. We can simply monitor the little bean. That IV is in your birth plan. It’s hydration and vitamins and I gave you something to take some of the edge off your back, hips and pelvis. Are you okay?” 

Tae-eul let Song-eun’s cheerful voice calm her. She sighed. She nodded. “We can’t reach Gon or Secretary Mo or any of the guards.”  

Tae-eul told herself she didn’t whine that to Song-eun. Her voice was just a little whiney. 

“Omo. I was about to ask if he knows. Why did he have to leave anyway? That idiot. Sorry, Lady Noh. Maybe they’re flying back home. Only reason I could think of.”

“But the whole point of him going there was to attend the funeral. That won’t be until midnight here--” Tae-eul groaned. She breathed, slow and deep, and thought of a lake in Joseon Corea, a green and pink mirror with the reflection of trees in spring, kites flying above it all. 

Song-eun said, “Twenty minutes since the last one. Thirty-six seconds again. Let’s see if this progresses. Your scans say everything’s okay. So you’re fine, Tae-eul. Little bean is fine.” 

“But why early? Did I do anything wrong? I was so careful--” 

“Yes, you were, Mama,” said Lady Noh. “You have done so well. You heard the seonsaengnim. Just let things unfold as they would. And you’re in the best hospital in Corea. You have the best team of doctors. We will look after you. You and the baby will get what you both need.” 

Lady Noh squeezed her hand. “And His Majesty is probably on his way. I agree with the seonsaengnim. It’s the only reason none of them could be reached. They’re probably flying.” 

“So he’s not attending the funeral? He just wasted all that jet fuel.” 

Lady Noh had nothing to say to that and just nodded at her soothingly. Song-eun was nodding with a wry twist on her lips. 

Song-eun stayed with her until another contraction arrived, again at the twenty-minute mark. “Okay, Mama. We’ll definitely meet the little bean soon. Our team will check on you regularly. You know them. I’ll be back and I’ll give you betamethasone for the little bean’s lungs, okay?” 

Song-eun left. Tae-eul sighed and lay down in bed on her side. They did a runthrough of this and she remembered all the treatment names and what they did for her and the baby. So much information whirling in her head and the loudest of them all was that Gon and her father weren’t here. 

The bed linens were from the palace. Same silk, same perfume. The bed was also laid with that temperature-adjustable duvet that kept her cool without freezing Gon’s butt numb, already set by one of the maids to Tae-eul’s preferred temperature. 

The whole suit was furnished in creams and blues, the walls papered in a soft dove gray, the paneling in white wood. The floor to ceiling French windows to the balcony let in so much light and, at one nod from Lady Noh, one of the maids closed the lace drapes to filter the brightness. 

Tae-eul could smell peppery cloves and ginger in the air. It was a bracing scent, prescribed for labor. She felt like she could sleep but also like she could run around this hospital for days. 

All of this, she took in, to give herself firm ground. Just like she’d always been taught. Focus can smother fear. 

Lady Noh sat down. Bless her, she didn’t hover. When Tae-eul caught her eye, Lady Noh smiled and said, “If you want to take a walk, Mama, I’ll just stay here.” 

The calmness and confidence from the old sanggung finally broke through Tae-eul’s terror. 

She was really going to give birth. But she was also going to be fine. And Gon was on his way. If there was another unfathomable reason why they couldn’t reach him, she’d just have to buck up and do this anyway. She had no other choice. She had the little bean to think of.   

Despite all her mindfulness exercises, her idiotic mind galloped off on that horse imagining doing this without Gon while tying and retying her hair. Another contraction rolled through.

Tae-eul almost welcomed it, let it rein in her mind, and breathed. 

Lady Noh had her eyes on the ornate clock on one of the side tables. “Still twenty minutes, but now forty seconds, Mama,” she said serenely. 

Lady Noh nodded at the nurse in the room, and the nurse nodded back as she continued fiddling with some of the monitors and readouts. 

Tae-eul lay down on her side. “That was a little bit more intense, too, I think. I’ll just go to sleep for a bit.” 

Lady Noh nodded, smiling. “When you wake up, I’ll have lunch for you, Mama.” 

Tae-eul’s last thought before falling asleep was wondering if she could eat. She felt a little sick to her stomach. 

Her vivid dream from that morning continued, like Tae-eul just hit play again after a long pause. 

Gon was confidently telling her he didn’t exist in this world, and that she didn’t exist in his either except for a photograph. He sounded completely deranged, completely convinced of what he was saying. Her cop brain said caution even though her instincts said he was harmless. 

Harmless except to her sanity and her stomach, which felt a little shaky from the intense gaze in those eyes. It wasn’t because he was handsome and smelled good and was both violent and gentle when he hugged her. Well, maybe a little. It was mainly how he looked at her. 

And he had said she looked better in real life. And then threatened her with a beheading, of course. It was infuriating. How could someone be so handsome and so demented? 

Her irritation and frustration in her dream bled into reality. Maybe it was because of her contractions. And her bladder was full and she found she had to change her underwear and liner again. 

It was a quarter past one. The first thing she did was check her phone. Nothing from Gon. 

She swallowed the light snack Lady Noh had prepared for her, plain and nourishing-- chicken breast, fruits-- and then went out for a walk on the balcony. Jangmi was there, and offered her his arm. The nurse followed them out and walked beside them, chattering a little. 

The balcony garden took twenty paces back and forth. The plants were wonderful, but they weren’t enough to hold her attention. 

At twenty minutes, another contraction. Forty-eight seconds this time. The nurse took note. She also checked the baby’s heart rate again, and once she was done, her face and nod said everything was still all right. 

“Can I visit the maternity ward now?” Tae-eul asked. 

The nurse smiled. “I’m sure the ommadeul will love that, Mama. The entire staff there, too. Let me just report and confirm with the seonsaengnim.” 

In-yeong was already speaking to her earpiece, and as the door opened to let the nurse out, Tae-eul saw Yeong speaking to his own earpiece. Probably to confirm the wards were clear. 

When the nurse returned a few minutes later, she was smiling and nodding. 

“We can go, Mama. But please wait, I have your betametha--” 

Lady Noh was suddenly between Tae-eul and the nurse. And Tae-eul stared in amazement. The old sanggung was so fast. And where did that six-inch dagger come from? 

“Drop that needle and step away from the queen or you will feel this blade.”

From the side, In-yeong exchanged a completely stunned look with Tae-eul at Lady Noh’s firm and lethal whisper. To her earpiece, In-yeong said, “Seonsaengnim--” 

Yeong was already stepping inside from the hall and gently pulling the nurse back. The syringe was already on the floor. Jangmi came in from the balcony and looked just as bewildered. 

Lady Noh was still holding the dagger. Her stance was perfect. One smooth backhand would have slashed through the nurse’s jugular if the nurse had been a real threat. 

Poor Nurse Song who was omma to four-year-old Da-hae. 

Jangmi or one of the others must have called Song-eun. She arrived at the scene. Still unflappable, she took in everything in the room and picked up the syringe on the floor. 

“I’m so sorry, Lady Noh. I should have explained. Please put the knife down. I’ll explain this injection. I’ll administer it myself, Mama. This is Nurse Song, you know her--” 

“I do not,” said Lady Noh, finally putting down her knife arm. The dagger she casually slid back into her sleeve. Tae-eul’s brain was doing a litany of awed swearing. Who knew? 

“I know you, Seonsaengnim, and I know your bath soap and your daughter’s friends in early childhood school, Nurse Song, but I don’t know you. Don’t take it personally. This is the queen and the heir and you just approached with that needle.” 

Nurse Song bowed and nodded, her face the same color as the room’s paneling. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, Lady Noh. I should have realized.” 

Everything and everyone settled down. Lady Noh back to her chair, Yeong and Jangmi back at their respective doors, In-yeong back at Tae-eul’s bedside. Song-eun pulled another vial from her coat pocket and opened a fresh syringe. 

She spoke as she pulled from the vial. “This is betamethasone, Lady Noh. Mama already knows about it. It would help the baby’s lungs. If by this time tomorrow we still haven’t met the little bean, Her Majesty gets another shot.”

Lady Noh nodded. She looked on as Tae-eul received the injection in her arm. 

Song-eun checked on Tae-eul, checked the monitors. “No changes in your effacement and your dilation, Mama. Little bean still good.” They waited for another contraction. Still at twenty minutes. And an even fifty seconds this time. Song-eun watched her. “You still okay?” 

Tae-eul nodded. “Trust me, you and several people will know when I’m no longer okay.” 

Song-eun grinned and they went out of the room arm in arm. 

Yeong fell into step beside Tae-eul and joined them down the hallway, his arm crooked for her to take. She swapped her tumbler of iced cocoa for his arm. It just felt much more comfortable to walk--waddle-- with support, and he could take her weight so much better than Song-eun. Yeong held her tumbler with his other hand. 

“Pyeha is definitely in transit, Mama. GPS pinged him over Ukraine and then Kazakhstan. We’ll just have to wait a bit more.” 

Tae-eul sighed in relief and nodded. 

Song-eun said, “When I examined your cervix, I had to fight to not look over at Lady Noh to check if she’s got that dagger out again.”

This surprised a laugh out of Tae-eul. Yeong’s lip turned up on the right side. 

CorGen’s maternity ward had private and semi-private labor rooms. The staff were informed about the queen’s visit, and were instructed not to congregate. Tae-eul nodded and smiled at them as she passed and hoped they made it inside a labor room before her next contraction came. 

This was her labor project. Song-eun said she should prepare one, something to distract and engage her during labor to help her ignore the contractions. 

At the palace, she would have baked and cooked with Gon. If that didn’t work (and she had a feeling it might not), competitive shooting at the sim gun range. Or maybe watching In-yeong and Ho-pil spar. In-yeong fought dirty in underhanded ways you didn’t immediately notice. It was awesome. 

At the hospital, it was this. Talking to other mothers in the maternity and the NICU floors, and hopefully she’d be as much a distraction to them. If the laboring moms consented to the queen dropping by, the door would have a blue ribbon. 

All the doors had one. 

She had a contraction in two rooms. She noticed it was a little more intense this time, but still bearable, and she couldn’t complain in front of Wong Soo-min, who was red in the face and shaking and asking for her epidural. 

They left as the anesthetist came in and Soo-min sobbed in thanks. 

“That’s why ommadeul want me as their doctor, you know,” said Song-eun as they walked to the next room. “Not my skills. My connections with the anesthesiology department. I can hook you up. Just say the word.” 

Tae-eul smiled. “I’m not some martyr for pain, eonnie. You’ll know, trust me.” 

They dropped in on another room, two moms sharing a semi-private room, one giving birth for the first time, the other for the third time. An accident baby, she said happily.  

The first-time mom was all about natural childbirth and getting strength from Hana-nim, talking to Tae-eul while on all fours on the floor, her elbows resting on a huge yoga ball. 

The more experienced mom was just nodding from her bed, DVD on her laptop on pause in deference to Tae-eul. She was watching a drama, saying she could catch up on all her dramas now she was about to stay in bed and nurse. 

Both moms were having contractions three minutes apart.

Tae-eul refused to be roped into the argument, especially since the first-time mom looked a little deflated and disappointed and dubious (in addition to a little unhinged from the pain) when Tae-eul said she was definitely getting an epidural.

They walked again. A longer walk this time. Tae-eul was just about to ask if they were on their way to NICU instead of another labor room when she saw Il-nam in front of another door with a blue ribbon, bowed to her, nodded at Yeong, and opened the door off the hallway. 

It was a private room, bigger than the others they’ve been in. Inside were two women. One was sitting primly, the other was pacing by the windows. Hair upswept in perfect chignons that probably took hairstylists a half hour, unlike Tae-eul’s haphazard bun. 

The woman pacing had several locks of hair out of place, and even that looked like they were intended that way. 

They were both on their phones--the woman on the chair had her back to the doorway-- and neither looked up as Tae-eul, Song-eun and Yeong came in. 

Yeong swept the room with his eyes and retreated back out. 

“Did you bring my fruit? And I mean fruit I want to slice myself, because I don’t--” 

The woman pacing looked up, trailed off, and said, “Mama, omona, forgive me. I thought you were-- Are you doing well? You look so pretty. I love your coat. Very Jackie O. Is it vintage? I don’t recognize it from any of the recent seasons. This is my aunt Byeon Hye-rin. She raised me. I’m an orphan. I’m Byeon Ji-min. Oh you probably know that from the tag on the door.” 

Byeon Ji-min talked right through Tae-eul’s next contraction. Song-eun couldn’t even get a word in. 

And then it was Ji-min’s turn, and Tae-eul stared as the woman made a long, low scream in her throat. It lasted more than a minute and she bore down on the other chair’s back as it went. 

She sobbed as it ended. When she said “Don’t touch me!” to her aunt who was approaching, her voice was both hoarse and weak.  

“It’s coming closer, seonsaengnim,” said the aunt. “Four minutes since her last.”

Song-eun opened her mouth but a male doctor in a white suit and with white hair came in. He looked around Jeong Do-in’s age, taller and more gangly. 

And with none of Do-in’s friendly air. He started a little at seeing them there, but he bowed perfunctorily, glared at Song-eun, and then marched straight to Ji-min.

“Please lie down, Byeon Ji-min-ssi.” 

- TRIGGER WARNING SCENE -

Ji-min lay down peaceably enough. She was trembling. From her contraction or from something else, Tae-eul didn’t know. But something in her eyes made Tae-eul want to haul the doctor for questioning. She exchanged a look with Song-eun, before Song-eun caught the doctor’s eye and gestured to Tae-eul that they should leave.  

“No, please stay, Mama, please.”

Tae-eul stayed. They moved to stand on either side of Ji-min’s bed. Tae-eul winced as the male doctor examined Ji-min, knowing how uncomfortable and outright painful it felt. Ji-min was crying silently now.

And then the doctor placed one hand on Ji-min’s belly, and whatever he did with his other hand made Ji-min cry out and scream.

“What are you doing?” Tae-eul asked. Yeong rushed in at the scream and rushed back out when he saw Tae-eul was fine. Song-eun had already marched over to the doctor, who warded her off until he was finished. His glove on his right hand was blood speckled when it came out from under the sheet. 

“The baby is OP. I turned it. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mama, I’ll continue doing my job with my other patients. Good day to you.” 

- TRIGGER WARNING SCENE END - 

Song-eun was gently lowering Ji-min’s legs back to the bed. Ji-min was crying and taking deep breaths. “I’m sorry, but it hurt so much,” she said. Her aunt nodded and wiped her cheeks. 

“Why are you sorry?” Tae-eul said. “What that doctor did was assault. I can’t believe him!” 

Tae-eul was furious. In her mind, she was replaying every single thing she had done or was done to her so far. Song-eun and her team explained every single thing and offered choices if they could. 

In contrast, Ji-min was just asked to lie down and-- what the hell. 

“That’s how it is, Ji-minah,” said Ji-min’s aunt. Hye-rin. She looked angry but resigned. Stiff upper lip. “You’re a good patient. This will be over soon. And some women might have it worse, hmm?” 

Tae-eul stared at Ji-min, who was having a contraction again just then. 

Tae-eul thought it best to leave. She bowed to the bed, which made Hye-rin bow lower, and then marched out, still vibrating with fury. 

Yeong’s eyes widened a little when he saw her face in the hallway. “Mama, what happened?”

“Who was that asshole?” 

Song-eun caught up with her, saying, “Calm down, Tae-eulie. Deep breaths. Good. That was Pang Baek-hun. I think he’s related to the Byeon family so he assumed he’d take care of Byeon Ji-min and he just did. She wanted me but didn’t want to offend the asshole, as you called him. Poor girl. He’s very well-connected like that. Usually takes over society women. You know the Pangs. As in Si-lin ‘Celine’ Pang. That’s his mother. The one who has an annual Lunar New Year Benefit Gala.” 

Yeong said, “She donated all the money from this year’s gala to the Eomoni Foundation. Sent a note that she hoped you’ll attend next year, Mama.” 

“That’s her,” said Song-eun. “She’s actually genuinely nice. But she does think the sun rises and sets in the posterior of her only son and Ji-min is about to become a single mother. She can’t afford to snob him.” 

“Where is he going next?”

Song-eun shook her head. “Mama--” 

Yeong answered her. “He’s in the shared ward, Mama.” 

“Are there society moms in the shared ward? I’ll see if I can stop him from assaulting another pregnant woman this time.” 

“Mama, what assault?” Yeong wanted to know. Tae-eul explained it to him. Yeong’s horrified wince and clenched jaw were gratifying. 

“Mama, you’re in labor, in case you need reminding,” Song-eun said as they turned the corner. Tae-eul paused, faced the window, bent over a little, and clenched the window sill. 

Fifty seconds. When it was over and Tae-eul had nodded to Song-eun and Yeong that she was still fine, Song-eun chuckled. “I’m so proud of the little bean’s timing.” 

CorGen had three shared maternity wards, each with six beds nicely spaced apart with thick privacy curtains. The first two were both at capacity and all the women were happy to see the queen, congratulated her, and wished her well. 

They found Pang Baek-hun in the third ward, examining another woman. This ward only had one other patient, and both women and their companions in their recognizable wealth looked like they were only waiting for their private labor rooms. 

And both women looked pinched. 

Tae-eul was aware of Yeong whispering into his earpiece as she kept her eyes on the doctor. Do-hyun was outside and Tae-eul knew more of the Royal Guard were strategically placed. For several seconds, she had fun imagining having them squish this arrogant doctor like a teok. 

When he finished his examination, he dipped his chin and left without a word to the mother or the nurse. Unbelievable. 

The man saw her, bowed to her, and continued on.  

“Can you walk with me, seonsaengnim?”

He couldn’t very well ignore that, especially not with Yeong and Do-hyun looking at him. 

“I’m busy, Mama. If you’ll graciously excuse me?”

Tae-eul caught up with him in the hallway. She smiled politely. “I’m curious, doctor. Are you always so quiet?” 

He scoffed. “I don’t need chatter to do my work. I only say something when I need to.” 

“You didn’t think you needed to say anything to Kim Sun-mi-ssi just now? As a patient myself right now I know I’d want my doctor to let me know--”

“You don’t need to know anything, Mama.” In her periphery, Tae-eul saw their audience’s aghast reaction to the doctor cutting her off. Yeong and Do-hyun showed no reaction, but they were looking at the doctor with more interest now. The doctor bristled at it, but continued looking down his nose at Tae-eul. “If it had been my great honor and you were my patient, you would simply trust that everything I do is for your benefit. Are you board-certified in obstetrics in six countries? I am. I’m confident in my expertise and ability. My patients also take comfort from that confidence.”

“That’s my point. None of them looked comfortable, seonsaengnim.”

“They are in labor. Why would they be comfortable?” He laughed humorlessly. 

“Are you saying you don’t care at all if your patients are in unnecessary pain or discomfort?”

“What I care about is to deliver as efficiently as possible, both mother and baby healthy. Pain and discomfort are part of labor and birth. You, of course, would not know and experience this, as I’m sure you will be given the utmost care and coddling-- if you’ll pardon me-- so if you’ll excuse me--” 

That laugh earlier already made Tae-eul want to punch him. And then every word he said next just poked at her buttons even more. 

The last quip about her not going through pain and discomfort when every contraction she’d had since this morning was like someone repeatedly gliding several welding torches down her insides tipped her over the edge. 

So she raised her hand and casually grabbed his lapel. It was a move that subtly but effectively dug her knuckles into his sternum. He winced.

“If you assault another woman in your care again, I will know and I’ll be displeased. I hate to pull rank but my displeasure does mean something. You are violating these women, not asking for consent every time you exercise your expertise as a doctor. Talk. Tell them what’s happening and what you need to do. You’re not some god and women are not cows when they’re giving birth.” 

Tae-eul jumped a little as applause and cheers exploded. The hall and the doorways were lined with staff and patients, some of them crying. 

“Mama, if you would please let go of me?”

Tae-eul let go. 

Pang Baek-hyun adjusted his coat, bowed exaggeratedly low, turned his back on her, and bumped into Gon’s chest. 

It was Gon. How long had he been there? 

Tae-eul had been looking at the women crying so she didn’t see him arrive but Gon was there. And suddenly all the women and staff and this infuriating doctor faded away. 

Gon was here. 

Tae-eul bit her lip to keep from smiling too widely and maybe even laughing at Pang Baek-hyun finally losing his infuriating superiority at the withering glares from the king and both Unbreakable Swords. 

-------------------------------------

Secretary Mo gave him an earpiece and Gon listened to Team Two’s report as he was ushered from the plane to the car. 

The protocol was to never distract Team One from the queen. Team Two handled everything else. All the information he got from Team Two was from Team One anyway. Labor underway probably since yesterday? No wonder he was so anxious to get home. 

When the report finished, he sighed. And then blinked. “Why are we driving? It’s over an hour away! Get me in the air.” 

He wasn’t about to prolong his absence from Tae-eul’s side as she labored for their first child if he could help it. 

He didn’t even remember whose helicopter he ended up commandeering. Why didn’t he have one waiting for him at the airport? Probably Lady Noh trying to be a quiet mouse so as not to anger the fates. 

Not counting the pre-flight checks, it took him a little over seven minutes before he finally descended the elevator to VIP 7. His fingerprint didn’t need an access card. 

Arriving in a peaceful suite was a bit of an anticlimax. As Lady Noh had said when she answered Tae-eul’s phone, Tae-eul wasn’t in her room. 

Yeong was in his ear and gave him directions to the ward. 

Gon had to go to the bathroom first, cursing about it. He took the chance to wash his hands thoroughly. Then he half-ran, half-walked, people pressing themselves against the walls to keep out of his way. 

He heard her voice before he saw her. 

“That’s my point. None of them looked comfortable, seonsaengnim.”

Tae-eul wasn’t yelling. He only heard her because everyone had stilled, the usual hubbub absent as everyone seemed to have turned off TVs and radios and were listening. 

He rounded the corner and saw Tae-eul. Hair in a bun, blue coat, pink dress, pink shoes, pink cheeks. Pink from anger but she looked adorable. And then she was grabbing the doctor by the lapel and delivering a threat in a low, firm voice that gave him flashbacks to the night he met her. 

He had been expecting-- he didn’t know what he was expecting, but certainly not this. His wife was in labor and walking around and threatening a doctor. 

He grinned amidst the applause. 

His grin disappeared when he saw how belligerent that doctor was. To his wife. 

Tae-eul’s eyes, which had looked at the other pregnant women in the ward doorways, grew wide and happy as she saw him there. 

But first, this worm. “Did you just turn your back on your queen?”

The man sputtered and bowed to him, bowed to Tae-eul, and remained bent at the waist between them. Gon let him squirm there for five seconds before nodding at Yeong, who pulled the man away and Gon could finally step forward and take Tae-eul in his arms, only the little bean between them.  

He heard the shuffle of shoes as the worm was dealt with. 

He laid a kiss on Tae-eul’s hair. They both sighed. She stroked his back before her hands settled to rest over his belt, under his jacket.  

Around them, people were clapping again. He chuckled as Tae-eul burrowed her face into his chest. Her cheeks turned even pinker. 

“You’ve been flying back since this morning?” 

He nodded. “In this timezone. I started out around midnight in London, just a few hours after we landed there. The little bean wanted me here with you. What did that man do? Are you all right?” 

She nodded back. “I’ll tell you in a bit.” 

And then her hands clenched on his hips and she cursed and moaned long and low, inhaling and exhaling and groaning. 

He looked at Song-eun noona, but her eyes were on her watch. Gon remembered and counted, holding Tae-eul’s elbows cupped in his hands. 

“Mama, that was only twelve minutes since your last. And it’s a full minute now. Let’s get you back to your room.”  

“Eonnie, that was worse. It hurt. Jangmi, I’ll walk-- my room is only up an elevator and around the corner. Get that out of my way or I’ll put one of the wheels through your neck.” 

Gon exchanged a look with poor Jangmi and the man shrank back several paces. 

Just before they turned the corner, Tae-eul said, “Where is my Unbreakable Sword with that wheelchair I’ll break over his big head if he doesn’t make it useful. Everything hurts from my chest down and you expect me to walk?”

Jangmi rolled the chair over in seconds, his chin quivering a little. Tae-eul took Jangmi’s hand--along with Gon’s-- to lower herself in the chair. 

Gon sighed when she was seated. And sighed again when she seemed to melt in the chair. 

“Jangmi, I’m sorry. You know I don’t mean it.”

“Of course, Mama.”

Gon avoided Song-eun’s and Yeong’s eyes. If they made eye contact, they were going to burst out laughing. Especially since Tae-eul didn’t let go of Jangmi’s hand and Jangmi’s chin was still quivering. It always took him a few minutes to recover from Tae-eul’s tongue lashing. 

Tae-eul curled and groaned through another contraction at the foyer of the suite. 

“Five minutes,” said Song-eun. And it lasted a minute again. When it passed, Tae-eul leaned back in the chair and wiped her face with both hands. 

He wheeled her to bed and helped her into it. Song-eun had already put on fresh gloves. 

Tae-eul was taking slow, deep breaths. One of the maids handed him the cool washcloth he asked for and he pressed it against Tae-eul’s red cheek. He took her hand. She held onto his fingers and he felt a slight tremble in her grip.

“Completely effaced now, Mama, and four centimeters. Not long now, but still long. I’m calling my cousin?”

Tae-eul nodded. 

Song-eun made calls. There was a wait and there was cursing. 

“I’m so sorry, Mama, it seems both my idiot cousins forgot they’re on your team and are both in surgeries right now. I’ve already made calls to pull them out. They’ll get here as soon as they can. While you wait, why don’t you relax in your tub? This one can join you.”

‘This one’ was him. 

“You can do the massage Ji Eun-hee told you about, Pyeha.” 

As if they’d summoned her, Ji Eun-hee-ssi came into the room. She looked like she could be Tae-eul’s mother in age and character, which was why they liked her. 

“Shall I show you again, Pyeha? And Mama, this should take the edge off your last contraction.” 

Eun-hee had taught him to start at the shoulders, following the curve of Tae-eul’s neck, but this time Eun-hee went for Tae-eul’s sacrum instead, making circular motions with the heel of her fist. Tae-eul groaned in relief. 

Next, the long strokes up and down Tae-eul’s back, along her spine and buttocks. When a contraction came, Eun-hee countered it with a massage on Tae-eul’s sacrum and Tae-eul breathlessly said thanks as she breathed and groaned through the pain. 

“Let’s get you to the tub, Mama. We’ve had it waiting and the water’s perfect.”

Gon preceded them there. The water was indeed perfectly warm.  

He had a hand in the tub’s design. Sunken into the floor and eight feet in diameter, it was lined with solid cedarwood, with a digital thermostat to maintain and control temperature. Handrails and a curving ramp along the perimeter made it easy and safe for Tae-eul to get in and out even without help. 

The ramp smoothly and gently dipped into the rest of the tub, functioning as different levels of inclinations and depth. Tae-eul could sit upright, recline at a hundred and thirty-five degree angle, or completely lie down.

Eun-hee passed Tae-eul’s hand to his and quietly closed the door as she went out, bowing. Tae-eul just leaned on him for a minute and he rubbed her back in soothing circles, with pressure on her sacrum. 

“I had them remove the clocks in the room but I still know I started this around nine today. It’s not even sunset yet. And first babies usually take a long time.”

“I’m sorry. You’re amazing. I thought I would find you here in bed or lashing out at Jangmi but you were duking it out with that doctor.” 

“He’s awful. Let’s not talk about him. Makes my blood pressure rise.”

“And the little bean might surprise us again and be a quick firstborn.” 

“We really didn’t take long, did we.”

They paused, looked at each other, and laughed as they understood what the other meant. Then Tae-eul sighed. “My abeoji isn’t here.”

“I can’t leave you to get him, Tae-eul.”

“I know.” 

She pulled on the ribbon of her wrap dress and he helped her undress. Then she walked into the tub. He walked with her around the ledge holding her hand until she was situated. The thermostat readout was at 95 degrees. 

“Is it warm enough?” he asked. “We can’t have it hotter.”

She nodded. “It’s good. Can you-- can you send flowers and good food to all the women in labor today? And Byeon Ji-min gets a box of Lady Noh’s donuts.”

Gon nodded. “How do you feel? Do you hurt anywhere else?” 

She snorted and he huffed at his ridiculous question. 

“You know what I mean. Your feet? Your head?” 

“I haven’t told eonnie but those cervical exams really hurt.” 

He winced. 

“Maybe I won’t feel them once I’m drugged.” 

“I hope so.”  

“The contractions are like-- like someone’s dragging dull and burning knives everywhere from my chest down to my thighs.” 

Gon grimaced, clutching his jaw with his free hand. “Let’s get you that epidural.”

Tae-eul laughed. “Yes, please.” 

“No more of this experience. I’m not kidding, Tae-eul.”

“Neither am I. You heard eonnie. Her idiot cousins are in surgeries. I want my drugs. This--” Tae-eul gestured at the water. “This is comfortable. I want to be comfortable. I don’t want the stabbing.”

Gon saw it on her face when the stabbing came again. He timed it. It pushed a little past a minute. 

And the intensity made Tae-eul throw up in her lovely bathwater. 

Tae-eul weakly pushed the sick away from her, rinsed her mouth and her tears, and said, “Please get me out of here and get me that epidural.” 

He pushed the button to drain the water and helped Tae-eul out, dried her and wrapped her in the hospital robe Chung-cha made for her, with simple overlapping lapels on the back and double breasted in the front, like a real robe. No gaping hospital gowns for Tae-eul, not under Chung-cha’s watch. 

Gon thanked God in a litany when he saw the anesthesiologist was already in the room. He was the only man in Song-eun’s team. And despite being a Chae, his selection wasn’t from nepotism. The man had lived and studied abroad since he was fifteen so Gon didn’t know him, but Gon could see him becoming a friend. 

Gon would be eternally grateful for how Chae Jin-woo skillfully and painlessly administered Tae-eul’s combined spinal-epidural. Tae-eul’s face relaxed soon enough, and she seemed to breathe easier, possibly better than she had done since the little bean started kicking and leaning on her lungs.

“You’re so good. You did that even while I was having a contraction?” 

“It’s nothing, Mama. It’s a myth that we can’t work if you’re having a contraction. After all, that’s exactly when you scream and curse at us to administer the epidural, so that should exactly be when we should be most skilled at inserting them, don’t you think?” 

Tae-eul laughed and Gon nodded wordlessly in a fervent agreement. 

Chae Jin-woo-hyung clapped him on the back as they shook hands. Gon walked him to the door, still thanking him. He was going to look in on his surgery but would remain on-call for Tae-eul. 

By the time Gon returned to Tae-eul, she was lying on her side on the bed, already half-asleep. They’d clipped a pulse oximeter on her right middle finger, and the technicians had fastened attachments to other monitors. The two women tucked the covers back over Tae-eul as they finished, and bowed and retreated. 

He sat down on the chair by her bed and stroked her hair. She looked a little worse for wear, the difference between this Tae-eul and the one who had grabbed that doctor not even an hour ago was stark. Gon dearly hoped her progress would stay fast like this and her labor wouldn’t take too long. “You’re not hungry?” 

“Maybe I’ll eat after I nap.” 

She went right to sleep. 

He kissed her forehead and went to shower. He pushed the self-clean button in the tub and watched hypnotized as it filled and the jets churned and sprayed the water. He smelled the apple cider vinegar and tea tree oil as they were released in a sheet of spray across the sides of the tub. And then a rinse cycle before the tub quietly and quickly drained.

In his mind was this realization and prayerful wish: God willing, he would soon watch Tae-eul use the exact same tub in the palace while he held their newborn.

Their newborn. It made him a little shaky. He was excited and impatient and prayed the birth would be easy for Tae-eul and their child was healthy. 

He just kept on praying as he showered. 

Chung-cha-ssi had clothes in the closet for both of them. He wore the soft and functional pajama-like coordinates that matched Tae-eul’s hospital robes. 

It opened and closed with ties. He could hold his baby skin to skin if he wanted, without worrying about buttons or velcro that could hurt precious, new skin. 

When he came back out, Tae-eul was deeply asleep amid all the visual numbers and representations of the little bean’s heartbeat, Tae-eul’s vitals, and the waves and mountains of her contractions. 

She was having one right now. 

But she slept through it, and her face was serene, one arm curled with her hand near her face, the other arm draped over her waist, her hand on her belly. 

He had watched her sleep like this countless times, always this position, like she still wanted to watch over the little bean even in her sleep. 

He couldn’t wait to see her holding their baby. She was going to be such a fiercely wonderful mother. But before that, he prayed that her labor wouldn’t drag on.  

---------------------------------------------------

In her dream, Tae-eul watched Gon slash and cut through Lee Lim’s men with his sword. 

Their eyes met and she no longer saw the guards or the men turned into so much litter on the highway. 

There was only Gon walking toward her and her unassailable clarity and conviction that he would always come to her, hack through men if he had to, and just did, but he’d always come. 

As that Gon from a hopefully already undone future had told her, he wouldn’t disappear. He would only be on his way. 

He ran and lifted her into his arms and she was home. 

Tae-eul felt tears falling from her eyes as she blinked into the dim room. For a moment, she thought she saw the Four Tiger Sword gleaming by Gon’s leg. It was only the silver piping in his black pants reflecting the light.. 

He turned up the lamp. His eyes roamed her face with the same fierce intensity he had on that night she had just relived in her dream. 

“I was about to wake you up. Your contractions are scary on the readouts. Are you in pain?”  

She shook her head as he scooped her up and sat beside her. What she felt wasn’t exactly pain. “What time is it?” 

“Around four.” 

In the span of time since Gon answered that and settled beside and behind her, things and people moved very quickly. It was the same fast-forward efficiency that happened twice this morning when she’d left the palace and arrived at the hospital.  

Tae-eul was wide awake. And when they saw she was, the suite was suddenly brightly lit. Seung-ah appeared in the doorway to the living room, saw her, grinned, and pumped her fist close to her chest before leaving again. 

The room was full of people, most of them in the matching blue and gray scrubs and gowns that identified them as part of the queen’s team. She recognized Ahn Jeong-won, the pediatric surgeon, who bowed and waved to her cheerfully from the corner with his own little team.  

Her suite was no longer an off-site and smaller version of a palatial bedroom. VIP 7 transformed into what it truly was, the queen’s delivery room, fully equipped with everything she and the baby might need.  

Pressure bordering on pain rolled and radiated down her back and lower belly into the apex between her legs. Tae-eul kept breathing, kept taking stock of the room, and kept her slight panic in check, firmly grounding herself in the present.  

Song-eun was already seated in front of her, between her legs, capped, masked and gowned. A mirror was perfectly placed beside her so Tae-eul could see what was happening, which was nothing yet. 

The room was warm. Ready for the baby. Tae-eul felt sweat drip down from her temple and Gon’s hand was there, wiping it off with the back of one finger, and then with a cool cloth someone handed him. 

She felt him shift and cool air touched her back as he opened her gown at the back. “Are you okay with me here? You’re not too hot?”

One of his hands was near hers on her knee. In answer, she transferred her grip on his arm. 

The scent of peppery cloves and ginger was strong in the air. She sneezed. 

She gasped at the sensation of a twist and slide.

“You okay, Tae-eulie?” Song-eun eonnie asked. “How much can you feel?”   

“Did the little bean move when I sneezed? Was that bad?” 

That came out of her in a garbled mess of pants and moans but Song-eun understood. 

“No, the little bean is on the way. The sneeze was nothing.” Song-eun’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Relax and continue breathing. You’re doing good. Your uterus is doing all the work. I’ll tell you when to help. Are you okay with this position or do you want to lie down on your side and hold your knees?” 

“I’m good. I-- ugh--” Tae-eul groaned long and low and uttered a profanity her father had still yelled at even though she was pushing thirty the last time she’d said it in his hearing.   

“Yes, crowning, Mama. How bad is the fire?”

Bad. Tae-eul gritted her teeth. “Pressure and stretch aaaaagh-- eonnieIneedtopush--” 

“Go ahead, Tae-eulie,” said Song-eun. “Push.”

“Like we practiced, Mama,” said Eun-hee. “Chin down. Eyes on your navel. Deep breath.” 

Tae-eul pulled air in and pushed, bearing down as they coached her through it. 

The pressure and stretch intensified and it felt like someone was using a blow torch on her down there and she groaned and sobbed and panted at the sting and relief of pushing. The stinging continued and didn’t let up. 

“Tae-eulie, I have the little bean right here. Look.” Tae-eul looked. Behind her and beside her, Gon muttered something that didn’t register. “Okay. Shoulders next and you get to hold your baby. Deep breath and one more push.” 

Tae-eul bore down. She heard herself as if she wasn’t the one making the primal, drawn out taekwondo kihap. She felt it when the little bean’s shoulders pushed past and finally came out. She was done. She felt both exhausted and like she could chase someone. 

Utter relief and the ring of fire was gone. Forgotten.

Just a breathless wait now for the little bean to cry. 

And then there it was, hiccuping soft cries and a short wail, soothed immediately against her skin. 

“Annyeong omma,” said Song-eun softly, “here’s your son.”

Tae-eul stared, gasping, and stroked and kissed him. He was so small and red and beautiful and warm and Tae-eul felt her heart break into a thousand pieces and coalesce again with his face and softness etched in every single vein and piece of her. 

“Saranghae. Neomu neomu saranghae,” she whispered to him, and it felt both true and inadequate as she felt his heartbeat against hers. 

Gon was kissing her temple, his hand overlapping with hers on their son. 

They gently wiped him together and chuckled at his thick fluff of black hair. Someone applied ointment to his eyes. His round, beautiful eyes. Tiny, tiny fingers still a little blue. Sweet, perfect ears. And he had Gon’s nose. 

She felt so happy she could burst. She loved him so much. He was delicious and wonderful. Her baby. Her little bean. 

At that moment, all her world narrowed down to him. Gon was in that circle, too, and she smiled at him but couldn’t really tear her eyes away from her baby too long. 

She didn’t even pay any notice as she delivered the placenta. How could she when she was holding her baby and his sweet fingers were curling around her skin in return? 

The sweet contact was too short and Tae-eul almost cried out at the loss when he was taken away. 

She watched as Ahn Jeong-won examined him and then Ahn Jeong-won began to push his glass bassinet with long strides to the adjoining room. 

“Gon, what-- is something--”

Gon had already gently laid her down on a stack of pillows someone prepared and was now following their son being wheeled away. 

Tae-eul felt her stomach turn. Her heart was thumping loudly in her ears. The relief and cocoon of love she felt was quickly getting choked with dread. 

She wanted to get up and march to where they’d taken her baby but she couldn’t feel her legs and Lady Noh had a tight grip on her hand and shoulder. 

“You heard him, Mama,” said Eun-hee. “Nothing wrong with his lungs. But he is a tad early. Seonsaengnim will make sure he’s okay.” 

Song-eun came around the bed to talk to Tae-eul face to face, gloves and gown off. “Congratulations, Mama. You did so well, Tae-eulie. Just one stitch. Do you want to see it? Anything else you want to ask me?” 

Tae-eul shook her head and tried to smile and thank Song-eun but she really didn’t care about anything at the moment but her son. She could have had a hundred stitches for all the notice she’d have given. She could barely breathe past the lump in her throat, much less talk and ask inane questions she already knew the answer to, even their planned skit about what Song-eun would say if Tae-eul asked if she’d pooped while giving birth. 

She heard beeps just as Gon and Jeong-won came in. 

“Tae-eul, he’s fine,” Gon said, sitting beside her again. “He’s fine. Please calm down.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Mama,” Ahn Jeong-won said. “His Apgar score isn’t as good as we’d like to see so we’re monitoring him. He’s doing good though. Heart is strong. Lungs are good. I just want to make sure he’s getting enough oxygen. He’s also very sleepy-- all this tired him out-- so we’ll see about his reflexes when I take him back to you to eat, and then I’ll monitor his blood sugar and his bilirubin levels and my team will watch the good stuff like poop and pee.” 

“Are you too good for baby poop and pee now, seonsaengnim?” Eun-hee said. 

“No, noooo, how could you say that? I just have other babies, too, you know.” 

The beeping in the background stopped. Tae-eul sighed.

If they could joke and if they could mention other babies, hers was okay. 

Jeong-won bowed and went back out. Gon nodded to her assuringly. But she loved that he shared her worry. His eyes were heavy-lidded. He took her hand and squeezed it. 

In between letting her rest, they distracted her further with talk of the cord blood and other analyses that just went through and out her ears. She heard them, responded, but all her attention was in the next room. 

VIP 7 was currently a delivery room--a complete suite of rooms, a glorified delivery and recovery room-- flanked by a NICU on one side and an OR on the other. If she could just see through that wall-- 

Something warm was pressed against her hand and the scent of salt and beef and garlic and wafted to her nostrils. She looked down. It was a bowl of miyeok-guk. 

“I made this in the kitchen while you were asleep,” said Gon. 

Lady Noh was nodding and smiling. “Please take it, Mama. You need it for strength and your milk.” 

“It’s tradition, omma,” Gon said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  

Tae-eul blinked at him and at the bowl and realized she had no idea how much time had passed. They had dimmed the lights again, the bustle of people cleaning the room or attending to her tapering down to zero. Song-eun had left, called away to another delivery, but had talked to her, given her medicine for her after pains, and said she was fine, she could even shower if she wanted.  

Oh Tae-eul wanted, but she discovered she was exhausted. So exhausted the bed seemed to have a good grip on her. Song-eun said that was fine. Tae-eul needed to rest and heal. No need to get up and chase anybody. 

So Chung-cha took over, freshening her up with a bed bath and a fresh robe. Eun-hee was also there, gently reminding Chung-cha and Tae-eul about everything essential for pain relief and healing. 

Tae-eul let herself be babied (if babies ever had to put on iced nappies, that was, but Chung-cha and Eun-hee were so good to her). She was still a little above it all, floating outside herself, but not far enough to see into the other room, which she desperately wanted. It was all a muddle, like she could focus only on one thing, and that was her son. 

When she was done, Chung-cha bowed and then broke protocol and pressed a kiss to Tae-eul’s forehead and left. Eun-hee just smiled, saying she was only a button away.  

So it was only Gon and Lady Noh and her maids in the room now, doing final touches in setting the room to rights. 

Her entire beddings had been replaced while she was being dressed. There was soon no detectible trace that Tae-eul had given birth in that room. Even the scent of cloves and ginger (and blood and other fun things she didn’t want to think of now that there was food in the vicinity) was replaced with eucalyptus, bergamot, and lavender.

Familiar scents that reminded her of the palace. Of home. 

She grounded herself on that scent and on Gon. His hair was down. He was wearing a fresh shirt, still with the soft ties rather than buttons. 

Her lamp was still at its maximum setting, and as Gon raised the bowl to her lips, the light showed her the marks on Gon’s arm, deep half-moon gauges, and some of them had the skin broken. 

She pushed the bowl back down, taking his arm instead. “Did I do that? My nails?” 

In her periphery, Lady Noh gave a nod. And shortly after Gon lifted and twisted his arm to look, Lady Noh gave them ointment and band-aids. 

“Well, you’re the only one who could get close enough to do this and they don’t look like your teeth. Too far apart. It’s your nails.” 

Tae-eul made a half-amused, half-unamused face. He offered her the bowl again. She nodded. 

He pushed the button to raise her bed to recline. They had to stop not even halfway through, Tae-eul panting and wincing. Another nod from Lady Noh and they had what they needed, and Gon was gingerly lifting Tae-eul to place a donut pillow under her. 

“I’m so sorry, Tae-eul, I forgot.” 

“I forgot, too. Maybe because I feel half numb and fully padded.” She laughed weakly at her own joke. 

They tried again, raising the bed to a recline in increments. Tae-eul braced herself for the pain but none came. The donut pillow was magical. At one look from her, Gon nodded. “Yeah, good idea, let’s give all the mothers donut pillows.”  

“I’m sure they already have several, too,” said Lady Noh. “Think of yourself and have your soup, Mama.” 

Tae-eul took her first sip of Gon’s seaweed soup. 

It was good. She realized she was famished and parched. She finished the soup within minutes. Gon looked pleased and proud, and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. 

“Want another bowl?”

“What else do we have?”

Galbi-tang swimming with more greens, pajeon, sigeumchi namul, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, sweet potatoes, boiled eggs, little canapés of kidney and liver pate with caramelized orange slices. 

Tae-eul ate them all, Gon feeding her, a bite here and there, finishing two pajeon and two eggs, washing down the mush of sweet potatoes with soup, alternating beef with the sweet and refreshing bursts of juice from the berries. 

Gon ate with her and then cut big apple slices to freshen her mouth. Lady Noh retreated after watching Tae-eul finish the canapes and that first egg. 

She and Gon didn’t talk much as they ate. Only shared smiles and small comments. (“So you cooked all this instead of sleeping?” “How could I possibly sleep with your contractions spiking?”) Both of them with lumps in their throats. They just had a baby, and it was so huge and too amazing for words. 

She was so full of love for her baby, and the way Gon looked at her and took such gentle care of her made her shy, made her want to say she didn’t do anything much at all. But she loved Gon for it anyway, loved that he loved and adored her. 

Maybe later, they’d have more wit and feel less wonder and talk about the mundane again. But right now, there was only taking care of each other--she placed adhesive bandages on his arm and ran her hand through his hair, he pulled her hair out of the braid Chung-cha made and massaged her scalp-- and thinking of their son. 

Tae-eul thought she could hear beeps from the adjoining room. 

“Do you want anything else?” Gon asked, taking back the big glass she had drained of water twice. 

She looked at him and was suddenly blinking back tears. “I want our baby.” 

He nodded and kissed her forehead as he got up. “Let me see if I can get him.” 

The clocks hadn’t been returned to the room yet, so even without zoning out, Tae-eul couldn’t tell if Gon was really taking so long or if it was just her perception. She had tied and re-tied her hair several times. 

Beeps sounded again and one of her nurses came in to check on her, and assured her the prince was still okay and His Majesty was coming with him. 

Tae-eul wanted to snap at her to stop calling him ‘wonjanim’ like he was some random royalty. He was her baby--her baby-- and she hadn’t even held him properly yet. 

But then Gon came in holding a bundle of soft blankets and Tae-eul forgot everything else.

She opened her arms, tucking her sweet baby inside her robe with help from Gon. 

“He woke up for me but then fell back asleep,” said Gon. “They weighed him so we’ll know how much he eats. If he doesn’t wake up long enough or doesn’t eat enough, they might try gavage feeding, Tae-eul.” 

She frowned at that but all her attention went to their son, already stirring against her, turning his head side to side. “You don’t need a tube, do you? Get your food right here with omma.” 

He moved in stops and starts, and at one point it seemed like he went back to sleep, but he woke up at their voice. When Tae-eul sang, he woke up and stayed awake, seemingly listening, and then he was at her breast, and she drew a breath when she felt him latch. 

In her worry about him, she hadn’t even paid any notice to the pressure on her breasts until she felt the sting and the faint relief that followed after her baby latched and started to suck. 

She watched him carefully, checking his latch, checking everything, glad he was getting colostrum, anxious he was getting enough, listening to him suck and swallow and breathe, trying to steady her own breaths and heartbeat. 

He did look so small. His little precious back fit between the width of her hand. But if he ate like this, he would soon be a fat little cutie, wouldn’t he. 

He seemed to rest in between several sucks, and woke up again and continued when she stroked his cheek. She felt tears pool and spill from her eyes. “Good boy. My sweet, sweet baby. I love you so much.”

The sun rose outside. The angle of the window and drapes beamed the soft golden light on him, and it was magical. He looked like a precious little gift from heaven as he sleepily nursed. 

And he was. He really was. 

She couldn’t believe she was a mother, and here was her baby. 

She exchanged a smile with Gon as he wiped her cheeks with his finger.

“Look at him,” she whispered. “Isn’t he perfect?” 

“You both are. I love you both so much.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Gon watched Tae-eul hold and nurse their son, saw his son had latched on properly like they’d seen from their lactation class, and felt his chest decompress. 

It felt like his first real breath since that day he left for London. 

Their son was here, and he was eating. His fingers and toes were pink. His reflexes had improved. He was going to be fine. 

So was Tae-eul. All the monitors told him she was stable, and she had eaten with her usual appetite. Her lips were still too pale for his liking but she’d bounce back. She had just given birth.

It still took his breath away. He could still see everything in his mind’s eye. Tae-eul was magnificent. Giving birth, and then glaring and looking ready to tear down the walls to get to their son. 

Now she was at her softest and most beautiful yet. 

She was singing an English lullaby she liked. 

Sunbeams fall from up above
Chasing clouds away with love
Sunbeams touch your heart and mine
Someday, baby you will shine

His son seemed to like it, too. 

The light of the sunrise came in from the French windows and Gon stared mesmerized, and then scrambled for his phone and took a perfect picture: his son’s tiny fist resting on Tae-eul’s breast, Tae-eul looking down with so much love at him, a smile on her lips, tendrils of her hair hanging down and curling as if also reaching for their son. 

He took a deep breath and exhaled a prayer of thanks. 

They had their private bubble for another minute before Ahn Jung-won peeked in, saw Yeon eating, and gave Gon a nod and a thumbs up. 

Eun-hee came in, took one look at Tae-eul, and made a minor adjustment that made Tae-eul sigh in relief and thanks. The midwife should be knighted. 

Lady Noh glided forward after the others had gone. Gon looked at her fondly, happy that the only mother and grandmother he’d ever known looked so happy and satisfied. 

“Well, what’s his name, Pyeha, Mama?” she asked softly. 

“Tae-eul says we should honor Yeong. So his title is Prince Yeong-hwan.” 

“Pyeha, I’m old, you know. What’s his name?”

“You’re not old. You’ll see my grandchildren born. His name was the personal name of Jangsu.” 

Lady Noh pursed her lips. “Mama, perhaps you will give me the answer straight?” 

Without looking up from her baby, Tae-eul said, “Lady Noh, his name is Yeon.”

Lady Noh nodded, smiling, and left them alone again. 

Gon sat there beside his new family, just basking, soaking it in. There was something inherently good in hearing his wife, the mother of his child, say that.

It felt like something fell into place. Something just perfectly right. Like the feeling of a good canter and he was one with Maximus and the wind. Like pulling Tae-eul into his arms and his chin resting on her hair, her softness and sweetness surrounding him. 

And now he also knew the feeling of holding his son against his chest, his warmth, his weight, his realness. 

He was alone before. And then he found Tae-eul. And now they had Yeon. 

It made his eyes sting. He got up, drew the drapes to filter the morning sun, and fetched everything Tae-eul might need: burp cloth, tissues, breast pads, those gel pads Eun-hee had talked to them about, a pitcher of water so he can pour her glass upon glass as she wanted, more of the canapes, her next dose of ibuprofen. 

When he couldn’t think of anything more and the side table had everything he thought they might need, he sat back down beside them. 

Gon watched as Tae-eul, with deft flicks of her wrist and fingertips, maneuvered her robe and blanket so that it was tucked better over and around herself and Yeon, without disturbing him nestled against her. 

“You’re so cool,” he said.  

She looked up at him ruefully, and then he saw the moment she remembered that day when they first found out about the little bean. She grinned, and that beam of sunrise was nothing compared to Tae-eul’s smile. 

“You’re a dork.”