Synopsis: in which Highess Min Yoongi suddenly confesses to his Second In Command, Kim Yuna.
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I pull back just in time to avoid Min Yoongi's sword that slices through thin air. It's made out of carved wood and wouldn't have done any damage apart from causing a few bruises, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting like a bitch.
He skids over to the other side and re-aligns himself in that perfect, combat stance he's so used to. I stand there leisurely on the opposite side, one hand resting at my hip and my own wooden sword cradled at my side.
"I don't understand," I murmur, the words carried over to him as the wind blows through my hair in a gentle caress.
His scowl, presently etched onto his face, deepens even more if that's possible, "there's nothing to understand," he spits back with such vigour that I would've flinched if I was anyone else, "I don't want her."
But I stand up straighter, "you need her to keep your peace," I hiss.
"Not like this," he charges at me again, swinging his sword over in a swift movement. But I block it in time and our weapons clatter against each other with such force that I feel its vibrations shoot up my arms. Yoongi's eyes are dark, narrowed with ferocity as he breathes out, "I swore to myself that I wouldn't marry out of honour, or pity, or convenience. I can sacrifice many things, Yuna. But not this, not my happiness."
"There's another word for that, back where I come from," I reply with sarcasm dripping from my tone as I narrowly avoid his kick, blocking it halfway to my abdomen. I grip his leg and swiftly throw him off, causing the said raven-haired man to tumble to the ground.
I stand over him, grinning, "it's called 'coward'."
Yoongi's scowl turn into a full out glare, and before I know it, he has jumped to his feet and is jabbing at me once more, his body as light as a feather as we dance around each other in a series of fists and flying limbs. He's faster than I am, with more power driven through his movements. But I know him, anticipate him and can read him like any other. So I dodge and duck and just make a fool out of him as he keeps trying to catch me off-guard.
"So what?" I ask, blocking his punch and swinging an uppercut to his stomach. He grunts in pain and I jump back when his other arm jabs at my face, "are you going to sacrifice your soldiers, go in a full-out war just because you don't want to marry her?"
"Last I heard, I don't think you had a say in what I can or can't do."
I punch, he jumps back and throws a roundhouse kick. I duck and scamper over the floor before jumping onto his back, causing him to yelp in surprise, "and last I heard, all these decisions weren't about you, but about what's best for your people—"
Yoongi throws us both to the ground and I roll, but not quickly enough, for he makes a grab for my arms and pin them above my head, legs straddling my thighs and leaning over to press his entire weight on my body so that there was no attempt of escape. Though I try to throw him off, his grip is tight and hard, unrelenting. My eyes wander up to catch the intense emotion swirling through his dark orbs and something inside me coils in a tight, anxious knot.
As Yoongi's first in command, I had always been by his side, good or bad, thick or thin, happy or sad. It didn't matter, I saw it all, I saw what he could do and how much he could take. My father, who had been a chief commander of the Royal Highness back before Yoongi's dad had retired, had been killed during the last war with the Kangs Dynasty and thus, his Royal Highness had placed Yoongi into my care, for while I was a girl, I had inherited my father's superb fighting skills, skills that couldn't go unnoticed.
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