Cut the strings and set me free

Part 3- a puppet tied to countless strings

Because these touches were always on borrowed time, their touches were always limited. And slowly as the clock ticks away, so does this bond, so does this tether.

I lean into the touch instinctively, even as my mind screams that I'm making it harder for myself to part later, that every weakness, every acceptance of their warmth and their love would make it near impossible to sever the link, the tie that laced around my heart.

"I have...it's just I've been busy with duties." I murmur, yanking back the crashing waves of agony that try to break past.

They won't see weakness from me, I can't let them see how much it affects me, how much the sight of them tears me apart- soul gaping and weeping, and yet the promise of safety and security and love healing me, knitting that wound back up. Stitches done carefully, tenderly- and yet they cannot erase that sliver of a scar it leaves behind, nothing can erase that.

"You need to take more care. You'll run yourself into the ground and what if...what if Jungkook doesn't see that, if His Grace doesn't see the stupid stubbornness you run on?" Tae asks, a trembling aching sorrowful smile gracing the bare curve of his lips.

Eyes always so wide and expressive and consuming, and as I look into the pools of soft brown, I find myself tugged there, lost in the endless compassion and sweetness and worry.

But the ring on my finger is the weight that reels me back, that permanent weight of the thin band that encircles my finger reminds me that it is not possible for me to remain lost and treasured and safe within these pair of eyes, nor the ones that had been peering into the very depths of me.

I don't have that freedom.

I tear my eyes away, a fixed expression gracing my face.

"I am sure Jungkook will be occupied just as much. That as a married couple, we will be two souls united in our struggles and duties just as much as we are by the holiest union." I say, feeling the mask slip into place as I gently grasp Jiminie's fingers and draw them away from me, let myself greedily soak up the warmth of his touch before my hand falls away from him, resting limply against my blankets.

My eyes drift to meet Hoseok's, see that as my guard he remains alert- ready to intervene.

"Sir Jung is there anyone else who needs to see me?" I ask, fiddling with the coverlets, feeling despair sink like a weight, bringing down my soul to a plummeting low.

"Your betrothed wishes to meet you, he has been in attendance with the royal court for finalising your marriage and expressed his desire to visit you before he retired to his wing." He says.

He glances at the back of Jiminie and Tae's heads, their backs stiffening and postures becoming rigid, see the softness become deep pools of moroseness and grief.

I nod.

"Please send him in. Jimin, Taehyung please excuse me." I say, sliding out of the covers, body teetering as I grip to the bedpost for stability, ignoring the sight of two pair of arms reaching out for me, a cry of concern slipping past their lips.

I take Hoseok's proffered hand, a firm stable support as I walk out, drawing myself up to my full height, forcing the stiff structure to my backbone.

A princess must stand tall and firm.

A princess is not bothered with the ailments of a commoner.

A princess never forgets that her life is not her own.

The Queen's words ring in my ear, a knell that with each foreboding chime brings me closer and closer to that point, to the moment where my identity will be erased and formed from another. When I shall cease to exist as (Y/N) and solely live as the wife of Prince Jungkook, as the voiceless princess who's life like cobwebs was brushed away in a haste.