Sisters in the Royal Court
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 5: The Princesses’ Trust
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 5: The Princesses’ Trust - 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
1478 - Jiwon age 11, Hyeon age 13
The request came on an autumn afternoon, carried by one of Princess Myeonghye’s personal attendants.
“Her Highness requests Park Jiwon’s presence in her quarters. For writing assistance.”
Jiwon bowed to the senior court lady who delivered the message, then glanced toward Prince Hyeon’s study. He was deep in conversation with his Confucian tutor, unlikely to need her for the next hour.
“I will attend Her Highness immediately.”
Princess Myeonghye’s quarters were in the inner palace, elegant rooms decorated with painted screens and silk cushions. The princess herself was twenty years old, poised and intelligent, with a reputation for being one of the more formidable of King Seongjong’s daughters.
She looked up when Jiwon entered and bowed low.
“Ah, the famous calligrapher.” Myeonghye’s tone was amused but not unkind. “My brother’s Jimil who writes like a master scholar.”
“Your Highness is too generous,” Jiwon murmured.
“I’m never too generous. I’m precise.” She gestured to the writing materials laid out. “I need you to write a letter for me. To the bride of Minister Cho—you know who I mean?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good. It needs to be perfect. The minister’s family is influential, and his new daughter-in-law is reportedly very cultured. I want her to see that I am equally cultured, equally refined.” She smiled wryly. “Even if my own calligraphy is merely adequate.”
Jiwon prepared the brush and ink, her movements practiced and efficient. “What would Your Highness like to convey?”
“Congratulations on her marriage. Wishes for happiness and many sons. The usual pleasantries.” Myeonghye paused. “But make it elegant. Use classical references—nothing too obscure, but enough to show education. And the characters should be beautiful. Your very best work.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Jiwon began to write.
Her brush moved across the paper with confident precision, each stroke deliberate and graceful. She chose her words carefully—referencing a Tang dynasty poem about marital harmony, invoking the traditional blessing of “hundred years of happiness,” using formal language that was respectful without being obsequious.
The characters flowed like water, each one perfectly balanced, the spacing impeccable.
When she finished, she set down the brush and waited.
Princess Myeonghye picked up the letter, studying it with a critical eye. Her expression shifted from neutral to impressed to genuinely pleased.
“This is ... exceptional.” She looked at Jiwon with new interest. “You’re eleven years old?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Remarkable.” The princess set down the letter carefully. “Tell me, child. Who taught you to write like this?”
“My father began my instruction, Your Highness. Then the palace instructors continued my training. But mostly I practice on my own—every day, for hours.”
“It shows.” Myeonghye leaned back, studying Jiwon thoughtfully. “You know, you’re wasted as a Jimil. With skill like this, you could be a court scribe, or even a tutor to young noblewomen.”
“I serve Prince Hyeon, Your Highness. I am content in his household.”
“Content or loyal?”
The question was pointed. Jiwon chose her words carefully. “Both, Your Highness. Prince Hyeon has been kind to me. His household is well-managed and peaceful. I have no desire to seek position elsewhere.”
“Mm.” Myeonghye’s eyes glinted with something—approval, perhaps. “Loyalty is rare in the palace. And clever loyalty even rarer.” She paused. “I may have other letters for you to write in the future. Would you be willing?”
“If Prince Hyeon permits it, Your Highness, I am honored to serve you as well.”
“Good.” The princess smiled—a real smile, warm and conspiratorial. “I think we’ll work well together, you and I.”
1479 - Jiwon age 12, Hyeon age 14
The princesses’ requests became more frequent.
Princess Myeonghye called on Jiwon for important correspondence—letters to influential families, formal responses to invitations, elegantly phrased refusals. Her trust grew with each perfectly executed piece.
Princess Sukhye, eighteen and more frivolous than her older sister, wanted help with poetry she was sending to a young nobleman she admired. “Make me sound intelligent but not intimidating,” she instructed. “And perhaps a bit mysterious?”
Jiwon hid her smile. “I will do my best, Your Highness.”
Even Princess Jeongmyeong, the youngest at sixteen and notoriously shy, began requesting Jiwon’s assistance. She needed help writing to her future in-laws—her marriage had been arranged, and she was terrified of making a poor impression.
“What if they think I’m stupid?” she whispered, her hands twisting anxiously. “What if my writing is childish?”
“It won’t be,” Jiwon assured her gently. “We’ll write it together. You’ll tell me what you want to say, and I’ll help you say it beautifully.”
The princess’s relief was palpable. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“I’m very useful, Your Highness. There’s a difference.”
Jeongmyeong laughed softly. “Perhaps. But I still think you’re kind.”
With each request, with each perfectly executed letter or poem or formal document, Jiwon became more deeply embedded in the princesses’ circle.
She learned their secrets—who they admired, who they feared, what marriages they hoped for, what court politics worried them. She heard their complaints about their father the King, their frustrations with rigid protocol, their dreams of lives they could never have.
And she kept every confidence.
“You never gossip, do you?” Princess Sukhye observed one day.
“No, Your Highness.”
“Why not? The other servants trade information like currency.”
“Because trust, once broken, cannot be repaired, Your Highness. And I would rather be trusted than feared.”
Sukhye studied her with something like respect. “You’re very wise for twelve years old.”
“I’m very careful, Your Highness.”
“Also true.” The princess smiled. “My brother chose well when he kept you in his service.”
Jiwon’s calligraphy became her signature—recognizable, admired, occasionally envied. Other court ladies whispered about her, some with admiration, others with resentment.
“She’s just a Jimil,” one older servant muttered within Jiwon’s hearing. “Why do the princesses favor her so much?”
“Because she’s talented,” another replied. “And because she knows how to keep her mouth shut. Unlike some people.”
The first servant fell silent, properly chastised.
Jiwon kept her face neutral and continued her work. Let them whisper. Words couldn’t hurt her as long as she had the princesses’ protection.
1480 - Jiwon age 13, Hyeon age 15
By the time Jiwon turned thirteen, her role had expanded beyond simple service.
The princesses didn’t just request her calligraphy—they asked her opinions.
“Does this phrasing sound too eager?” Princess Sukhye would ask, showing Jiwon a draft of a letter.
“Should I accept this invitation or make an excuse?” Princess Myeonghye would wonder aloud, seeking Jiwon’s read on the political implications.
“How do I tell my future mother-in-law that I’m nervous without sounding weak?” Princess Jeongmyeong would worry.
Jiwon answered carefully, always deferentially, but honestly. The princesses seemed to value her perspective—perhaps because she was young enough to be unthreatening, but clever enough to see angles they might miss.
“You have good instincts,” Myeonghye told her after Jiwon suggested a particular diplomatic phrasing for a delicate situation. “Better than many of the so-called advisors around here.”
“Your Highness is kind—”
“I’m accurate. There’s a difference.” Myeonghye smiled. “You remind me of your master sometimes. My brother also sees things others miss.”
Jiwon felt warmth spread through her chest at the comparison. “Prince Hyeon is very perceptive, Your Highness.”
“He is. And he clearly values you.” The princess’s gaze was knowing. “He speaks of you often, you know. ‘Jiwon prepared this,’ ‘Jiwon suggested that,’ ‘Jiwon had an interesting thought.’ It’s always Jiwon this, Jiwon that.”
Heat crept up Jiwon’s neck. “I simply do my duty, Your Highness.”
“Mm. I’m sure.” But Myeonghye’s expression suggested she saw more than Jiwon was saying. “Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. My brother has been happier these past few years than I’ve ever seen him. I suspect you have something to do with that.”
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