Is It Better To Speak Or Die?

Soobin is glad that it's him who has found you, too, but he can't really feel relieved. There is something off with the way you look at him, the way you move so slowly without any haste, even though there is no time to spare if you want to live.

....You want to live, right? You haven't given up yet, have you?

You step closer to him until there's barely any space between you, bare feet against the cold marble floor, and Soobin has to resist the urge to lift you up, to carry you so your noble feet don't have to touch the ground.

You reach up, and he almost flinches when your fingers graze his skin, knowing all too well he isn't worth your touch, and even less now when he's dirty with sweat and blood and ashes. You show no signs of hesitation though as you gently push a few strands of hair out of his forehead. You don't ask him to bow either, and he doesn’t even though he knows he should, but he can't bear to look away from you and cast his gaze to the floor.

"Soobin," you say again, your palm briefly cupping his cheek before it wanders down his arm and comes to rest on his hand, that is still holding his sword. "You will make it quick, won't you?" You let out a little sigh, "I know it's not a mercy my bloodline deserves, but maybe, if there’s at least a trace of affection left from the countless hours spent together, you could grant me this favor?"

Soobin swallows hard, his brain unwilling to catch up with what the uneasy feeling in his stomach has already understood. "What are you saying, your highness?"

"I'm no highness anymore, not after tonight."

"Still—" But you don't let him speak, your fingers tightening their grip on him. "I'd much rather die by your hand, than anyone else's. I know you'd lay me to rest much gentler than most."

"No," he hears the urgency in his own voice and feels the way tears are welling up in his eyes, and while he knows this display of distress is inadequate, he doesn't think this is the moment to hold back just for the sake of proper conduct. His free hand grabs yours, pulls it away from his sword, and holds it close to his chest, "If you die tonight, then so will I."

Your words tremble as you reply, "The crown has already fallen, Soobin. You mustn't go down with it just to fulfil your duty."

He swallows thickly, "I have no duty towards the crown, nor do I find myself intrigued to fight with the rebellion. This sword's sole purpose is to protect you, for I've sworn my loyalty to you and you alone, your highness. If you decide it's the last night, I will gladly go with you."

A chuckle slips past your lips, but it isn't humorous, just sad. "How foolish. Like a dog who follows the very master who put a leash around his neck."

"If my loyalty is truly a leash, it has never felt as such. You never yanked on it, it has not once cut into my skin."

"How foolish," you say once more, but you don't mock him again.

There's a loud noise outside, he thinks maybe the archway has collapsed under the raging fire of the rebellion.

"What do you decide, your highness?"

"What decision is there to make? I can forsake my life but not yours, never yours."

A smile spreads on his lips as his grip around your hand tightens. "Then you'll just have to live, your highness."

You give him a small nod, "My life is in your hands."

He sheathes his sword and finally does what he wanted to do the second he saw your bare feet; he lifts you off the floor, ready to carry you as far as needed to get you to safety. "I'll make sure to treasure it."