The night held them in a loving embraced. They were the darkness and all the life it held. Feared and forgotten warriors of old. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in the grey.
BTS X READER | based/ inspired of Ryan Kirks Nightblade trilogy. You DON'T...
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It would take several more days to reach the borders. They had left the mountains, and the rest of the journey went through flat fields. Well, that's the map in front of (y/n) suggested. It had been pinned to the wall of a red tent. It was considerably larger than the map in Doeksus's book and full of tiny flags, pined in different locations.
She traced her finger along the route she needed to take. All the while behind her, a soldier looked confused as he read through the paperwork she had given him. The boy seemed young and inexperienced and as if he was ready to pass out. (y/n) watched as his face screwed up again. She rolled her eyes, half tempted to get another person to help instead. Though, it didn't seem like she needed to as the boy apologised, running out of the tent with words about getting a supervisor.
She couldn't help but sigh as she sat at a table. The room was mostly empty, apart from a desk and the map. She assumed it was just a waiting room and not the whole site. If it was, Akira was in more trouble than she realised. It was the closest military base from the mountains, and now that they had left the rocky terrain, she needed horses. The plan was to pick up horses and some uniforms, to be in and out, but the boy could seem to believe her papers.
Not that (y/n) could blame him. The papers weren't exactly believable. Especially when they granted some girl full power and control of any military personnel.
A few minutes later, he came back red in the face and with a quiver to his lips. He had seven high-rank general uniforms and a uniform Akira had custom made tucked under his arm. Behind him was an older man looking embarrassed with her papers in hand. The boy ran out as soon as he put the clothes down. Only assume that he had received quite a telling off, she felt a little sorry for him.
"I'll have your horses ready and brought round. " The man spoke, rushing through his sentence.
"Is there anything else you need?" He asked, gaining more confidence by the end when he realised she wasn't mad, only pressed for time.
"Yes, give these to the men I came with. Tell them to get changed. If they argue, come get me."
She nodded to the folded clothes, and the man was quick to take them out, leaving her alone to change herself.
The furs and the fabrics began to fall one by one. A shiver ran down (y/n) back as she began to take the black robes off, the air cold on bare skin. Her hair tickled at her back as she began to redress. She was halfway through when (y/n) swore she heard the sound of canvas moving.
However, when (y/n) looked back, nothing was there. Probably just the wind.
Akira had her uniform especially made. After all, her role was a new one, a possession he had created just for her. It meant she could do as she pleased. She unravelled the fabrics. There was a mix of heavy cotton and light silks in petrol and steel blue, white and grey. It felt nice. The cloth greeted her skin with a gentle touch, with an aspect of shielding nurture. The style wasn't dissimilar to her usual robes, only a lot more decorative. (y/n) threw on her furs once more and headed back out into the fresh air.
The turning in her stomach started. Acid began to creep up her throat and burned her chest. She swallowed the spit that had gathered in her mouth to try and calm the heat, but it didn't work. The thirty or so minutes she had spent in the tent had made her forget about the insufferable circumstances. Now she dreaded taking the last few steps toward the seven boys.
They stood nobly, waiting. All dressed in the general uniforms.
She caught herself from crumbling and walked over into her own personal hell.
(Y/n) kept her eyes on the ground, watching one foot step in front of the other. It was easier than seeing the blank expressions they used. It was worse than a death stare because now she didn't know who felt what.
Only Jungkook had expressed some form of happiness in seeing her, but nobody else. (y/n) knew Namjoon and Jimin definitely hated her. She wasn't partially on good terms with Yoongi on the night she left, but the other three gave no indication.
It had put her in a foul position. It was safer to assume they were against her. After all, she didn't want to make any more a fool of herself than she had already done.
When she brushed past Jin, she heard him mutter under his breath.
"You still have it?"
He spoke more breath than words - as if it wasn't meant to be heard, a slip of the tongue, but (y/n) heard it. (y/n) followed his gaze to the hilt of her sword, where a red tassel hung from the handle.
The vibrant red dulled with blood and dirt turned to a dark maroon. Jin hadn't noticed against the black, though against the white fabric, it stuck out like a sore thumb. (Y/n) fingers brushed against it she had almost forgotten it existed. It was a quick decision. One that was stupid and rash, but she gripped the ornament. The string snapped with a slight twang, and it broke away in her hand.
She regretted it as soon as she did it, especially when she saw there was no malice in Jin's eyes. He looked hurt. Guilt bubbled up, yet she couldn't bring herself to try and fix what she had done, not when everyone was watching. So, she kept raising her head higher. Her chin parallelled to the ground, she pushed the string into Jin's chest. She held it there until she felt his hand come to take hold of it. As soon as he did, she stormed over to the horse.
(y/n) didn't look back. She didn't want to see the glares she could feel in the back of her head. Maybe they didn't all loathe her Jins expression was enough to make that clear, but she had jumped the gun, and now they definitely did despise her.
They mounted the four horses that had been brought over.
A heavy silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around as they tried to avoid catching other glances.
Jungkook was sat behind (y/n). His frame completely hid hers from the others as their horse took the lead. His arms were awkwardly draped around her waist so he would fall. His hot breath would occasionally hit the back of her neck, sending agonising tingles down her spine. They didn't speak. There wasn't much to say.
"You've got dried blood around your ear." When Jungkook finally spoke, his voice was quiet and a little shaky.
"I do?" Her reply felt absent like it was old news that she had spoken about it a thousand times beforehand.
"You haven't bandaged your hand either." He added, looking over her shoulder at the open wound.
He saw (y/n) subconsciously move the palm of her hand into the fur that hung over her body. "It'll be fine." She reassured him though it sounded like she was reassuring herself about something much bigger than a cut on her hand. Jungkook took the shut down of the conversation as a sign to not try anymore.
Hello, sorry it's been a while but I really struggled to write this chapter, just can't get behind it but oh well. Thank you for reading x
