Cut the strings and set me free

Part 3- a puppet tied to countless strings

And maybe I had been.

Maybe the screams and pleas and begging that my heart, mind and soul seemed to be doing constantly had made itself known, was demanding to be heard.

That even a smidgen of my sorrow, of my agony be heard before I was swallowed up in the void, before I became a voiceless, faceless figure to fade into the backgrounds and melt into the shadows. A candle extinguished in a lone corridor with no-one to see the curl of smoke as it gave its final farewell.

"You know there's a way. But you refuse to use it." Yoongi oppa's voice cuts across, a mixture of hardness and empathy and pain- eyes swallowing me whole, pinning me and looking at me with a gaze that makes me feel stripped and bare.

Silently pushing, silently knowing, silently seeing.

But I can't do that.

Can't ask them to do that either.

Can't bring myself to share in the shame and burden and disgrace that would befall me.

"What if I let someone else?" I say, looking at him through wet cheeks and aching eyes.

His face hardens, expression shuttering.

"You cannot. I forbid it. Forbid you from ruining your life beyond salvation, beyond hope. Do you hear me Your Highness, you must never ever entertain that notion in your wildest dreams." He grits out, his hand tipping back an amber shot before he looks at me, glaring and angry and raging.

Furious that I'd considered it, that I was considering it.

But if I did go through with it, I'd be damned on both ends.

I wouldn't have anyone to turn to.

And as selfish as I was, I didn't want that.

I wouldn't be able to bear the solitude, the eternal ache of emptiness that followed.

"I won't." I agree, face falling and I reach forward for the decanter, ignoring the shocked murmurs and the alarmed cries as they try to stop me, I pull forward his empty glass, filling it past the normal amount, filling it until it reaches the top.

And begin to down the vile burning liquor, throat burning and eyes streaming, fighting the urge to gag as the liquid poison flows down my throat and begins its arduous journey through my body.

"What on earth are you thinking? Hyung's tolerance is through years. You however have never strayed further than the odd sip of fruity champagne." Hoseok hisses, eyes burning with rage and incredulity, gripping at the crystal glass, looking close to shattering it.

I hiccup. Brain swimming and mind buzzing as the burn seeps through my body, the heat of the drink trying to thaw my frozen insides, to chip away at the ice that encompasses me.

I laugh, an empty pitiful sound.

Full of derision, mirth and hate. All directed towards myself, towards my situation.

"What's the point if even the hardest liquor can't stop me from thinking? I could drink to my death and duty would stop them from mourning me in the way that I wanted." I say, dejected and morose, utterly defeated.

"So if you cannot live a fulfilled life, you will live one full of grief and self-inflicted pain? (Y/N)...this is not what your father wanted. I remember him still and I know the last he would've expected is for his daughter to be so...destructive." Jin oppa says, voice filled with pain and a seriousness as he looks at me.

"If you want something, you go for it with your entire life. You put absolutely every bit of you into that fight. But don't blame duty if you yourself are unaware if you hold that strength. Look inside you and see if you have what it takes." He says, looking on with disappointment and concern and a hardness.