Cut the strings and set me free

Part 4- if the strings snap will you let me float away?

I nod, shaking slightly when Jimin stands up carefully, manoeuvring her to be curled up completely in my arms before he gets the cloak, helps draw it around her sopping body, to cover her torn clothes and to protect her body, the sight of her from eyes. 

"I'll take Spirit. I'll have someone bring the other palace horse back." I say, knowing that we needed to get her back as quickly as possible and Spirit was the best horse for the task.

He nods as he mounts one of the other horses after he's helped secure (Y/N) against my chest, the sopping layers of her dress pressing into my chest, tightly tucked into me, my arms wrapped around her unconscious but now breathing figure, clutching her towards me protectively as I urged Spirit into a pace that was quick and urgent- but every moment was ensuring that she wasn't jostled, that she wouldn't slip, arms tightening automatically at the thought of her being hurt potentially.

Jimin rides by my side as we rush not back towards the palace but towards one of the estates that my parents had gifted me on turning into an adult- an estate where Jimin and I stayed rather than in our individual homes, finding comfort in turning such a place into our home.

And with every whip of wind against my face, harsh and cutting into me, I find myself desperately hoping that it doesn't make (Y/N) sick, that her already frail state doesn't worsen, ears straining to hear the light weak breaths she takes in.

And it's a blur of movement as Jimin comes to still Spirit, drawing him into the stable and drawing (Y/N) towards his chest, the cloaked secured around her body as he holds her, begins walking as I dismount- with an urgency belied by the way he exudes a natural command and authoritative aura for everyone to disperse, striding down the halls with a fixed rigid posture- eyes flashing with simmering bubbling protective rage.

He takes her into the large master bedroom that the two of us found ourselves curled up together in, where a (Y/N) shaped hole always remained as we held each other, as we whispered our deepest desires and longings to hold her in the same manner, to have her close. I hadn't been able to bring myself to share a bed with Jimin this past week, hadn't found myself worthy of seeking him out for comfort when it was clear that he too was hurting, paining on the inside- trying to hide behind the polite excitement of the princess getting married.

The moment he sets her down on the bed, it's to draw pillows under her head, to draw blankets- thick fluffy mounds of stuffed quilts over her freezing frame.

I scrabble to get close even as Jimin moves away, flitting about the room with an ease, an urgency as he moves to the door to ask for heated soaked towels and the thickest clothes that the staff can find.

The two matronly figures who enter with a steaming basin, arms piled with thick towels and the heaviest winter clothes they can find- breeches and a shirt, their eyes fall to the still figure of (Y/N) bundled up under the covers- reading the situation and interjecting themselves easily into it.

"The poor dear." One of the women murmurs, hair lined with grey and eyes more knowing, more experienced and more sympathetic than any I'd seen in the palace.

"My lords please let us tend to her. Let us bathe her and change her." she says softly but with corded steel under the soft warmth of her voice, it isn't up for negotiation and I find myself banished with Jimin to the antechambers of the bedroom- staring wide-eyed and unblinkingly at the door that has shut behind us.

And I cling onto Jimin, draw him into my arms because the glaring emptiness in them makes me nervous, unsettled and jittery.

I wind my arms around him to hold him close, to feel the steady thud of his heart and the strong puffs of breath that leave him, feel the natural healthy warmth of his body that seeps out from under his clothes. And find that I'm only grounded, only tethered and kept sane by the hand that grips my own, that clutches back just as tightly, fingers digging into mine.

He leans into me, chasing out the same warmth and our eyes remain firmly glued to the door, from which no sound seeps out. And the wait is long and torturous.

Not knowing what's happening what's inside, not knowing if she's struggling to breathe, if she's shivering with cold, if she's stirred.

It's a vice that winds itself around my heart and mercilessly clamps down on it, squeezing out every thud, every beat in a painful grip- forcing the air out of my lungs, making my breaths come out harsher.

The hand holding mine tightens, grips harder.

"Tae she'll be fine. She was breathing...she has to be fine." He whispers. And his other hand unfurls to reveal the pendant he must've picked up before we left, staring at the waterlogged delicate details of her, finger brushing carefully over it- as if somehow the caress is against her face, against her warm skin.

But I don't know that.

We can't know that.

Even as the women open the doors and leave with bundles of her white dress, torn fabric and used towels, it's with eyes steeped in concern.

But they say not a word as the two of rush in, the door slamming shut behind as we move to her side, move to flank her with our own bodies, with the heat that comes off of us.

She looks not fragile in that moment.

But broken. Shattered.

The shadows under her eyes starker against pale chilled skin, looking swallowed up in the shirt that  tries to bring her warmth.

And when I burrow under the covers with Jimin, it's to hold her close, to share our body heat with her because she's frightfully cold, numb and still.

Jimin's hand reaches out to draw mine close, to bring it to rest against her sternum, to let both of us feel the slow thud of her heart under it before he draws our laced hands down, to where one of hers lie on her stomach, the coldness of it making me shudder and burrow myself closer.

I try to ignore what her cold limp hand makes me think of, try to push away the thoughts that rise at the feel of her still chilled figure between us.

Because she's alive. She's alive.

And with each dull thud of her heart I try to reassure myself that we found her in time, that she'll be fine.

Not thinking of what I'd do if my words rang false, what I'd do if the beat of her heart deceived us and slipped away, what I'd do if the coldness to her body signified that despite being held by us, clutched tightly by us- she'd still slipped away.

Because there was still so much I had to give, so much I had to say, so much I had to show her.

And when I thought of how each day with the two of them was a memory I'd never forget, that I'd cherish forever, I never once thought that such a day would come where I wanted to forget the memory and find myself unable to. That such a memory that had the two of them could be one that haunted me instead.

(FOURTH PART!! AND MY DARLING SWEETHEART Midiiplier LET ME KNOW IF I DID JUSTICE TO THE PROMPT, IF IT WAS AS YOU EXPECTED, COS HONESTLY I DON'T KNOW- IF THE VISUAL CAME INTO YOUR HEAD AND MADE YOU SHIVER THEN I'LL CONSIDER IT A PASS! AS ALWAYS MY DEAR...INDEBTED TO YOU AND YOUR STUNNING MIND! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED IT, THAT YOU FOUND IT EMOTIONALLY STRONG TO READ AND CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS!! LET'S SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT! I HOPE YOU ALL ARE JUST AS EXCITED AS I AM FOR WHAT'S TO COME! STAY SAFE AND TAKE CARE!)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3