Cut the strings and set me free

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

And I thought I'd die from the feeling, from the way it rushed in like crashing waves of a raging storm, worse than any torrent sea that Tae and I had voyaged on, worse than any battalion and line of fire we'd stood on.

And with each moment passing, her voice continued to drift into my mind, ears full of her hauntingly pained defeated voice, of the way I could envision the sweetness in it not fading until the last word, her words only conveying and spreading hope and faith and good will for Jungkook- someone who Tae and I had spent resenting only to learn that in the short time he and (Y/N) had known each other, had spent together was to lessen each other's burdens.

And as we rushed out of Tae's chambers it had been first to rush to hers, alerted by the panicked shrieks and cries for 'Her Highness' that she wasn't there, that she'd truly gone, left- the realisation hitting me with a blow, a blow that knocked the air out of my lungs and forced my heart to remember how to beat.

Still remembering that before we'd rushed out Tae's chambers, I'd been stilled an iron grip around my wrist, a narrowed sharp set of eyes, always observing, always calculating, now soft and heavy with pain and concern.

"Bring her back. Bring her back safe. But not here. Do not bring her here." He'd uttered, voice filled with trembling heavy command, not releasing me until I'd nodded, Yoongi stepping away to grip tightly at Her Royal Guard who'd look both shaken and nauseous- eyes wide and unseeing.

It had been the final glimpses I'd gotten as my feet had pushed me out.

But the images still lingered in my mind.

Seokjin, her composed intimidating advisor, shaken and sobbing as he folded Jungkook into his arms and looked devastated- so utterly guilty and fearful and wrecked in his worry and concern for (Y/N).

Namjoon, the wise intelligent eloquent advisor, now staring blankly, silent tears trickling and shoulders shaking but hands firm and steady as he tried to hold the fragments, the torn shreds of her counsel, her closest circle together.

And I saw that (Y/N) hadn't left just the two of us behind.

She'd left behind the people she called family; she called her own. She left behind a circle of people who wouldn't hesitate to put their lives on the line for her.

And I saw the cracks in the glass grow, saw the tendrils of pain and grief and shock spread wider, shattering the perfect mask, the delicate glass structure of (Y/N) and her counsel- saw the fragility when the force tying them all together was removed, removed herself from the balance, leaving every one of us teetering with instability.

"Goddamit (Y/N)" Tae sobs, voice a harsh pant of breath carried over with the wind from the slight distance between us, as we urged our horses faster, his voice had become a deep rough gruff- giving away just how much he was falling apart inside even as we rode on.

His voice was filled with the beginnings of hysteria and panic- because we'd spurred ourselves towards the sea, her words haunting us, plaguing us with horrific images of her sinking into the waters, of leaning forward to let her body hit the sea and be carried away. Because the letter was steeped in an almost grotesque humour- outlining where she was going.

Because she truly didn't believe anyone would come. She didn't know that we would.

Because somewhere along the lines she'd decided not to tell us just how much she was dying bit by bit and she hadn't intended for us to learn until it was too late.

Even until the final moments, her final intention had been to shelter us, to protect us from the truth, from the knowledge of where she'd vanished. Even in her final words, she'd left nothing but kindness behind. A veil to hide the horror of what lay beneath. A fluttery gauzy sheer piece that lay in her chambers, without the person to adorn itself on, a mere scrap without the glorious beauty of the owner.