Pairing: Fuma (Crown Prince) × K (the rival noble with a grudge—and a history)
Tropes: Rivals-to-lovers | Forbidden feelings | Tension under silk and steel |
"You were never just competition to me."
👑 PREQUEL FLASHBACK

Scene: Age 15. The First Duel.

The training yard was crowded, nobles and soldiers lining the stone circle.

Fuma stood in the center, calm and unreadable.

K stepped forward—shorter then, sharper, all fire and nothing to lose. His father's voice echoed in his ear:

"Beat the prince. Prove why your bloodline was robbed."

They bowed.

The match began.

Sparks flew. Blades sang. K fought like he had something to prove. Fuma fought like he already knew who would win.

And yet—he faltered. Just once.

K's blade touched his shoulder.

Gasps.

Fuma looked up—not angry. Intrigued.

"You hesitated," K muttered.
"I calculated," Fuma answered.
"You underestimated me."
"I wanted to see what you'd do when you thought you could win."

K's breath caught.

That was the first spark.
Not in the fight—but in the stare that lingered just a moment too long.

Premise (current):

Fuma is the Crown Prince—poised, calculating, always in control.
K is the son of a powerful noble house once passed over for succession—and he's never quite forgiven Fuma for it.

They were raised to outwit each other.
They trained with the same swords, shared the same halls, exchanged the same bruises in the name of "diplomacy."

Now, a royal delegation threatens war if the two don't present a united court.

Which means: public appearances. Political dinners. Dancing.

⚔️ TENSION HIGHLIGHTS 🏹 Sparring Scene — Present Day

The courtyard is empty except for them.

They haven't fought in years. But tonight, the political pressure is too tight, the rumors too loud, and their patience too thin.

Steel clashes.

K sweeps Fuma's feet—Fuma counters. The tension breaks only when K pins him, blade at his collar.

K (smiling, breathless): "I could have it all now, you know."

Fuma (smirking despite himself): "Then why don't you take it?"

K: "Because every time I try... I realize I don't want the throne."

Beat.

"I just want to see if you'd ever let yourself fall."

Fuma doesn't answer.

But his sword drops first.

💃 Gala Dance — Public Tension in Silk

The music swells.

The nobles murmur as Fuma takes K's hand.

It's just a dance, they say. A diplomatic performance.

But their grip is tight. Their footwork near-perfect. And the silence between them is louder than the music.

"We're being watched," Fuma says, tone clipped.

"So what?" K whispers. "Let them see what power looks like when it wants to kiss you."

Fuma breathes in sharply.

The dance ends.

But neither lets go.

🗡️ THE TWIST — Extended

It's a quiet night—too quiet.

Fuma moves through his chambers, robe half-loose, crown on the table. Alone.

Until—

The shadow lunges.

A blade meant for his throat.

And K is faster.

He takes the strike instead.

Chaos follows—guards flood the room, the attacker vanishes, but Fuma—

Fuma is on the floor, holding K's bloodied shoulder, shouting for someone, anyone.

"Why—why would you do that?!"

K (faintly, eyes fluttering): "It wasn't for the crown."
"Then for what?"
"...It's always been for you."

Fuma doesn't cry.

Until he knows K will live.

Then he lets the crown fall and grips his hand instead.

💔Rumors & Ruin

The court whispers now.

"The prince is too close to him."
"The son of the rival house? It's a scandal waiting to erupt."
"He'll lose alliances. Favor. Control."

Fuma hears it all.

And K—he starts pulling away. Quietly. Out of duty. Out of fear of ruining Fuma's legacy.

But Fuma isn't having it.

"If I lose everything but keep you, it's still more than I had before I ever let myself want you."

K stares.

"You'd give up the throne for me?"

"No," Fuma says calmly. "I'd fight harder to deserve it. With you at my side."

💋 Scene: The Forbidden Kiss

Setting: The Coronation Gala. Velvet, gold, judgment. Eyes everywhere.

The music plays. Fuma stands center-stage, crown still warm against his brow, his face carved from calm.

K is stationed near the edge, dressed in black ceremonial guard armor. Official. Distant. Cold.

They haven't spoken all night.

Not since the rumors spread too far.

Not since Fuma was told—again—that his crown could only hold one loyalty.

But as the final fanfare echoes through the marble hall, Fuma doesn't go to the nobles waiting for him.

He walks toward the columns.

Past the velvet curtain.

Into the quiet shadows where only one person waits.

K turns as he approaches, expression unreadable.

"You shouldn't be here," he says.
"Neither should you," Fuma replies.

And then—

Fuma kisses him.

No warning. No hesitation.
Just one gloved hand at the back of K's neck, pulling him in like he's already made his choice.

K breathes against his mouth, stunned.

"They'll see," he whispers.

"Let them," Fuma murmurs. "Let them remember who I kissed the night I became king."

👑 Future Epilogue: Armor and Answered Questions

Years later, the kingdom thrives.

Reform is slow. But it is real.

K stands beside the throne—not behind it. He wears armor still, ceremonial now, silver and marked with the royal crest.

They call him "The Shield." Some call him more.

One foreign diplomat asks the question everyone thinks:

"Who truly commands the kingdom?"

Fuma answers without pause.

"The one who holds the crown," he says.
Then turns to K.
"And the one who keeps my heart steady enough to wear it."

💬 Final Line:

Two names on every edict.
Two voices behind every decree.

And in every tale told after:

The king who ruled with a sword beside him—
and a love that never bowed.