Sisters in the Royal Court
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 18: The Fever
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 18: The Fever - A story of two sisters who both became consorts to the same Joseon prince, both elevated beyond their station, both genuinely loved by a man who chose them for who they were. One brilliant and brief. One quiet and enduring. Both essential to the tapestry of a family built from loss.
Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Oriental Male Oriental Female
PART THREE: LOSS
Early 1490 - Jiwon age 22, Hyeon age 24
Jiwon woke with a headache.
It was nothing alarming at first—just a dull ache behind her eyes, the kind that sometimes came from stress or poor sleep. She ignored it, rising to begin her day as usual.
It had been over a year since Soyeon’s death. A year of slowly, painfully rebuilding herself. The grief hadn’t disappeared—it never would—but she had learned to carry it, to function despite it, to find small moments of joy again.
She and Hyeon had grown even closer through the shared tragedy, their bond deepened by surviving the worst loss either of them had experienced. They hadn’t tried for another child. The wound was still too fresh, the fear still too great.
But they were healing. Together, as always.
So a simple headache seemed like nothing worth mentioning.
The First Day
By midday, the headache had intensified.
Jiwon found herself squinting against light, pressing her fingers to her temples, struggling to focus on the correspondence she was reviewing for Princess Myeonghye.
“Are you well?” the princess asked, noting her discomfort.
“Just a headache, Your Highness. It will pass.”
“Perhaps you should rest.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
But she wasn’t fine. By evening, the headache had become excruciating, and a fever had begun to climb. Her skin felt hot to the touch, her body aching in ways that suggested this was more than simple exhaustion.
“You’re burning up,” Hyeon said, his hand on her forehead radiating concern. “We need to call the physician.”
“It’s probably nothing. Just a chill from the weather—”
“Jiwon, you’re not fine. Don’t pretend you are.”
The palace physician came, examined her, prescribed herbal remedies to reduce fever and ease pain. “Rest, ma’am. Your body needs time to fight whatever illness this is. It’s likely just a passing sickness—there’s been illness going around the palace. But you need to rest.”
“I will,” she promised, though part of her already felt uneasy.
Something about this felt wrong. Different from normal illness. But she tried to push the worry away and focus on resting, on letting her body heal.
The Second Day
The fever didn’t break overnight.
Instead, it climbed higher. Jiwon woke drenched in sweat, her head pounding, her body wracked with chills despite the heat radiating from her skin.
“Hyeon,” she whispered, her voice rough.
He was at her side immediately, having barely left her all night. “I’m here. What do you need?”
“Water. I’m so thirsty.”
He helped her drink, supporting her head, his face creased with worry. “The fever is worse. I’m calling the physician back.”
The physician returned, his expression growing more concerned as he examined her. The fever was high—dangerously high. Her pulse was rapid and weak. She was becoming delirious, muttering things that made no sense.
“We need to bring the fever down,” he said urgently. “Cold compresses, more herbs. Your Highness, I won’t lie to you—this is serious.”
“How serious?”
“If we can’t break the fever in the next day or two...” He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear.
Hyeon’s face went white. “Do whatever you need to do. I don’t care about the cost or the effort. Just save her.”
Court ladies brought cold water, cloth after cloth soaked and placed on Jiwon’s burning skin. More herbal remedies were prepared, coaxed down her throat. Prayers were offered to any deity who might listen.
But the fever climbed higher still.
The Third Day
Jiwon existed in a haze of pain and confusion.
She couldn’t remember where she was, couldn’t focus on anything except the fire consuming her from within. Faces swam in and out of her vision—Hyeon, the princesses, physicians, servants, her sister.
“Jisoo?” she whispered at one point, reaching out.
“I’m here, unnie.” Jisoo’s face appeared above her, wet with tears. “I’m right here.”
“Take care of him,” Jiwon said, though she wasn’t sure what she meant. The words came from somewhere deep, somewhere that understood what was happening even if her conscious mind didn’t.
“Don’t talk like that, unnie. You’re going to be fine.”
But she wasn’t going to be fine. Some part of her knew that.
The fever had settled into her body like an invader that wouldn’t be driven out. Every breath was effort. Every moment of consciousness was pain. Her body was losing the fight.
“Don’t leave me,” Hyeon begged, holding her hand, his face ravaged with fear and grief. “Please don’t leave me, Jiwon. I can’t do this without you.”
She wanted to reassure him, to tell him he was strong enough to survive anything. But the words wouldn’t come. Everything was slipping away, dissolving into heat and confusion and pain.
The Delirium
Time lost meaning.
Sometimes Jiwon thought she was a child again, entering the palace for the first time, small and frightened.
Sometimes she was fourteen, watching Hyeon with new awareness, feeling the first stirrings of love.
Sometimes she was holding Soyeon, their daughter’s tiny face scrunched with effort as she fought for every breath.
“I failed you,” she whispered to her daughter’s memory. “I couldn’t save you.”
“You didn’t fail anyone,” Hyeon’s voice came from somewhere distant. “You’ve never failed anyone, my love.”
But she had. She’d failed to keep their daughter alive. And now she was failing to keep herself alive, failing to stay with him when he needed her most.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Don’t you dare apologize.” His voice broke completely. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”
She felt his tears on her burning skin, felt him holding her hand as if he could anchor her to life through sheer force of will.
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