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y/n POV

You watched in horror as Yoongi pried a sword out of a dead guard's hands. You felt sick to your stomach. You had seen this guard before, back when things were normal. He would patrol the halls late at night, sometimes asking you if you were okay when you would take your midnight walks through the corridors. Always polite, never too personal. You didn't even know his name, but you knew his face. Now it was lifeless. The light from behind his eyes snuffed and hands stiff around the sword he most likely tried to fight with until the end.

All the violence, and for what? To rule the land? For the power of a king? You wished you could tell them it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. You remember words you had been told many times before.

"The crown seems heavy only to those who wear it."

It was true, though. If it were up to you and it were at all possible, you would hand over the title of princess to someone who actually wanted it (or at least thought they wanted it). But now wasn't the time to ponder on impossible dreams.

Yoongi grasped the sword, for a moment weighing it in his hand to get a feel for it, then stood and glanced at you.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he brushed a piece of hair out of your face. "You look pale."

You took a deep breath. Perhaps your nausea had made the blood drain from your face. You knew this was a bad time to feel queasy, but your reasoning didn't translate to your stomach.

"I'm fine. Let's just keep moving."

He nodded and took your hand once again. You noted the tight grip of his palm around yours. You didn't need him to hold your hand as you ran. You knew the way to the green house much better than he did, after all. But his touch still gave you comfort. You could tell he sensed that fact.

The echoing of your footsteps seemed too loud in your ears, and it caused even more anxiety to race through your veins. "Take a right here," you whispered under your breath. Yoongi nodded in acknowledgment, but his head sharply turned, and he skid to a halt. You furrowed your eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

His eyes were elsewhere, and it seemed like he was listening. Suddenly, his hand was over your mouth and he had pushed you against the wall behind you. You inhaled quickly through your nose and your heart rate skyrocketed. You were confused, but also terrified. Your wild eyes looked to his for an explanation.

He looked at you darkly, and slowly lifted his pointer finger up to his lips and hushed you. He bowed his head slightly and once again looked as if he were listening for something. Then you heard it. Faint footsteps from the hallway the two of you were about to turn into.

He looked into your eyes again for reassurance and gently removed his hand from your mouth.

The weight of his body pressed against yours reminded you of the time he had you pinned to the wall in the garden. The heat from his breath on your cheek made you stir as the footsteps got heavier and closer. Only now did you notice his hand firmly gripped on your waist, as if you could float away at any moment and he was holding you in place.

And then, all at once, a figure appeared. Yoongi pushed off of you and pointed his sword at the figure's throat, but the other man had done the same. There they stood, stiff and in a standoff. But you knew the figure. You knew him very well. His broad shoulders and full lips were familiar to your touch. His soft eyes that now drew into hostile slits lived in your mind's eye. "Jin!" you called out.

Jin's eyes glanced to you, flashed a flicker of relief, then shot back to Yoongi. Jin regripped his sword, keeping it inches from Yoongi's throat, but Yoongi did the same. "Jin, Yoongi, lower your swords!"

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