The Suitors: A BTS fanfic

33

Y/n POV

The binding around your hands was tight and uncomfortable, but you didn't notice it all that much. You were trying to keep your crying to a minimum, not wanting to look weak in the eyes of your current captors. The man that bound your wrists tugged on your arm as you walked the familiar path to the throne room. It was a route that didn't pass the ballroom, so you knew there would be little chance for aid from party guests. In addition, you didn't know how many enemy men had infiltrated the castle. The grounds could be on complete lockdown for all you knew. You had so many questions, but silence was your only option.

You knew Yoongi trailed behind you with the rest of the men but didn't give him the satisfaction of looking back at him. You thought to yourself many things as you and the group that pressed you forward approached the throne room. One being the fact that Yoongi was sent there to kill you but didn't. Was he just waiting for the right moment? Did he actually want to flee the castle with you? For all you knew, his hand could have been grasping the blade's handle a second before you were interrupted by the councilor. You simply didn't know who to believe. But Yoongi didn't seem like a very reliable source at the moment.

Another thought: when you made it to the throne room, what would be waiting there for you? The councilor mentioned your family. If this was indeed a coup, would your mother and father be there, awaiting your collective execution? What about Esther? The thought made more water fill your eyes, but you sniffed and pushed it down.

What you couldn't seem to suppress was your complete and utter terror, though. It coursed through you, mind and body. You didn't want to die, of course, but what about everyone you cared for? Would they be in danger? Noor, Isabella, the suitors? Where were they? You had a dismal feeling many of your questions were about to be answered.

The man that grasped your arm halted at the entrance to the throne room, gave you a glance that you only acknowledged from your peripherals, then pushed the heavy door open. It took you a moment to comprehend what you were seeing.

Your family, your blood relatives that is, were standing, hands bound like yours, in the middle of the room facing the thrones ahead. In the throne sat a man you assumed to be Yoongi's father, Lord Min.

The three of them turned back to look at you. You saw your father, his expression cold and unfeeling as usual, but your mothers took you by surprise. She had red eyes and a tear stained face. She looked back at you with a look of complete misery. And then, a sight that broke your heart. Your younger sister, who just hours ago you had noted was so innocent and small, standing next to your mother, captive. She didn't cry, though, but to you, it seemed worse. Absolute horror colored her face. She didn't deserve to die. And you knew she didn't want to. It almost made your entire strong and collected façade fall apart into a crumbling mess of tears and sobs, but you took a deep breath and held your composure.

Then your attention turned to the rest of the room. Enemy men wielding weapons ranging from swords and knives to bows and arrows. At your estimate, probably twenty of them. They all looked at you with hungry eyes. Stares that could kill if they were tangible. They all wanted you dead and anticipated that being the end result in minutes if not moments.

But those were the only people that occupied the room. You wondered where your friends were. Had they been hurt? Captured? Killed? Your heart spiked again at the idea, but honestly the increased pounding of your heart hadn't slowed since you had been taken.

"Thank you for joining us, princess." Lord Min stood from his lazy seated position on the throne. His voice was deep, like Yoongi's, but colder than his ever was.

The man that kept your arm in his hand finally released you with a push when you reached the line your family stood in. You exchanged brief glances with Esther. You knew in your eyes she looked for hope. She looked for reassurance and comfort, but you had none to give her. So, you shot her your best look of sympathy. You knew false expectation was much more dangerous than despair.