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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In the darkness, the whole world could have blown away in a freak storm and (y/n) wouldn't know.
She couldn't smell the earth, almost like it was wiped clean. As if all the plants and life had gone. Her feet were bare and sunk into the dry mud; that's the only reason she knew the ground existed. Everything else has dissolved away as the universe had neven begun.
In the darkness, she could no longer get a sense of what was important. She wanted the dawn to come and kiss the land back to daytime and light. (y/n) wanted to be reminded that she wasn't the only soul in the vast expanses of the world. But now, all she had was the starless sky, where even the moon didn't shine. Perhaps it was lying frightened, shivering, behind the unseen cloud.
If so, she envied the moon. She wanted to evaporate from her place just like that, never to exist and start a new life far away. But, she couldn't, not yet she had a thing to do and responsibly to keep. However, the idea kept brewing and growing in her mind, she could simply walk away and disappear. Nobody would question it, nobody would worry, not anymore.
She screamed out a silent scream of frustration. No matter how much she opened her mouth, no voice would come out, or so she thought. In truth, there was simply no one there to hear, rather no one with the capacity to respond.
A mouse living in the tree roots wasn't going to come and comfort her anytime soon.
(Y/n) lowered her body down to the foot of the tombstone. She sat with all the grace of a sack of wet sand. Her body seemed to fit the shape of the uneven ground, even her face seemed to slacken and sink as if pulled by invisible strings downward. All the day's stress slowly drained from her bones into the soil.
It had been the worse day for a long time.
Now she was weary and ready for everything to stop, and all there was no one to comfort her was the never-ending darkness. It was the anniversary of her mother's passing, and it hurt. It hurt like hell. It felt like someone was rubbing salt in a wound that refused to heal. Not because she missed her mother; she had already gone ten cycles without her.
(y/n) had now had been alive longer without than with. It hurt because she had so few memories that she could still recall. She no longer knew the sound of her voice or the way she would talk. All she had were bedtime stories told while she was half asleep and a conversation about going to the mountains for an unknown man.
It stung because she had no one to talk to. She was all alone. (y/n) understood that she was lucky to grow up in a place as she did - however, loneliness is an unseen killer.
She could pin the loneliness down to three separate events, number one was her mother dying. It was one less person in her life. She didn't have any friends her age; after all, it's hard to make friends when you never leave the compounds of your home. It wasn't by choice; she simply just wasn't allowed to do much.
You see, her father was chief of Myrrka, which was one below royalty in the Third kingdom. This meant (y/n)s childhood was spent in confined luxury. Her father thought it was too risky for his only daughter to leave the grounds after his wife died. She had private tutors and would train in basis sword practices with a teacher for exercise. When she reached fourteen, the rules relaxed a bit after she complained one too many times.
She was aloud out along as she was accompanied by a member of staff. Despite this, the number of friends never grew; the other children would always be too intimated to approach her.
The second event happened when she was eleven. Five Cycles ago, a large group of bandits had come down from the mountains into Myrrka. They carried out the worse raid in twenty cycles. Nineteen shops and homes were set ablaze. Around thirty people died in the fire, leaving one boy in particular parentless.
The Chief took pity on him, and the said boy moved into her home. He was thirteen cycles old, and even to (y/n) young eyes, he held a certain charm around him. His name was Hoseok. The two children quickly became friends and would play for hours in her big home. They were stuck at the hip, but only for a time.
The new arrival in her home acted as some sort of trigger for the third event. Well, it was more of a passing of time and happened over a few years.
You see, the Chief was a practical man. He enjoyed physical activities, like hunting and sport. Now he had a young man to share his interests, teach to ride horses, and fight. Little by little, his free time went to Hoseok until there was nothing left for (y/n).
And little by little, (y/n) hated them for it. Every day she was alone and felt worse. She had lost her father to her only friend. It wasn't fair. Sometimes she would catch the look of fondness in her father's eye for him, he was the son he never had.
It broke her heart every time he chose him over her. It hurt so much, but it was easier to hate and act bitter towards them than attempt to rekindle any relationship.
(y/n) let out a deep sigh from the pit of her stomach as she rolled onto her back. With a lazy arm, she reached above her head and brushed the stones of the grave. Slow desolate tears ran from her eyes and dripped steadily into the dirt below. This wasn't her home, and it would never feel like it.
