╰┈➤ "𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" The king's words were like a dagger piercing through my heart. In the brief moment where his gaze met mine, I felt an overwhelming sense of fear rise into my belly. The question, though simple in its wording, was weighted...
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(This chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence, including beheading and detailed depictions of blood. Reader discretion is advised. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to intense or explicit content.)
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The cobblestone streets of the capital were unusually empty. Usually, the early morning buzzed with the chatter of merchants setting up their stalls and the distant clang of blacksmiths at work. But today, the air had silence, a stark contrast to the vibrant market days that filled the city with life. Only the occasional echo of footsteps broke the stillness, as townsfolk hurried to their homes, eager to avoid the heavy presence that loomed over the castle walls.
Guards, dressed in their gleaming armor, lined the path to the execution square. Their eyes scanned the horizon, vigilant for any sign of disturbance. The crowd grew denser as people from all walks of life gathered, whispering in hushed tones about the fate of the three men. The murmurs grew louder as the procession approached, the thud of booted feet and the clank of chains a grim reminder of the day's purpose.
The condemned men were brought forth, their heads hanging low. Their faces were pale and sweaty, their eyes darting around the crowd in desperation. They knew that their end was near, and there would be no reprieve. Y/N, dressed in the colors of mourning, stood alongside the king, Jungkook. His eyes were fixed on the prisoners, his jaw tight, and his posture rigid. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, and she found it difficult to breathe.
The executioner, a tall, stoic man with a stern countenance, stepped forward. His movements were deliberate and precise, a dance of death he had performed countless times before. He took his place in front of the first prisoner, raising the sword high above his head. The blade caught the dim light, casting a cold, sharp reflection on the prisoner's face. The man's eyes grew wide with terror, and he began to shake uncontrollably.
"Do you have any last words?" Jungkook's voice cut through the silence, firm and unyielding.
The first prisoner's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before a strangled plea for mercy escaped his lips. "Spare me, my lord," he rasped, "I have a wife and children!" His desperate words hung in the air, unanswered by the stoic faces of the crowd and the unflinching gaze of the king. Jungkook's expression remained unchanged, his eyes as cold as the steel blade gleaming in the executioner's hand.
The second man, slightly younger than the first, had a wild look in his eyes. Defiance flashed across his features as he spat out his words. "I wish for nothing but to take my vengeance with me!" he shouted, straining against his bonds. "You may end my life, but you will never conquer my spirit!" His voice was filled with a fiery passion that seemed to burn through the fog of dread that enveloped the square.
