(Y/N) POV:
I stare at the ornate jewellery box, fingers digging into the edges, biting my lip to keep the sounds of pain at bay.
"(Y/N), won't you open it?" a voice asks, soft and gentle, looking at me with gentle brown eyes, plump lips curved up into a knowing sad smile.
His hand reaches out to lightly squeeze the one closest to him, trying to relax the stiffness in my fingers, at the death grip I grip the edges of the box with.
"I can't..." I confess, feeling the vision of the box blur, too ashamed, too weak to meet his eyes.
He lets out a deep sigh, full of empathy and understanding and yet somewhere disappointment lingers too. As if wishing that I had the strength to just open it.
After all it's only a box, how much can it hurt?
I try tear my eyes away from him, find myself prisoner to the knowledge in those brown eyes, that remain silently filled. He leans forward, chain falling out of his loose linen shirt, a flash of colour catching my eye momentarily before he tucks it in impatiently, still focused on me.
"As one of your advisors I'd tell you not to. As a friend first and foremost I'd urge you to. Don't let moments pass you by and regret remain (Y/N)." he says softly. His eyes are understanding, always have been, the silent empath in my group of advisors, one of the few who've pushed me to take decisions for me, for my heart.
The one who'd pointed out to me years ago that sometimes our head can be swayed, misled and unknowing but our hearts never led us astray. Could never feel something wrong or unjustified.
"But Jinnie...oppa I can't. What if I open it and it throws everything into a horrible mess? What if I don't have the strength to see what's inside?" I whisper, hating the weakness to my own voice, hate the way it trembles and my vision threatens to blur once more.
"Then you don't. But when we fall weak, we rise back stronger. What's the one thing we've always advised you?" another voice cuts in, the light levelness of it always the same. But never have his eyes been able to disguise his feelings, his raw emotions. Never have the dark pair of eyes deceived me and neither have I mistakenly thought for a single instance that in his sleepy, narrowed-eyed look was ignorance or boredom.
"To be me and everything else will fall into place." I reply, a part of me stirring up with joy at the pride that flickers in his eyes, raising his glass filled with amber liquid to down it, face unflinching and barely grimacing.
He'd taken one look at me at their private chambers and declared he needed the hardest liquor to get him through what he proclaimed to be the most difficult problem to date.
He hadn't been wrong.
It had been nearly two hours and my grip over the ornate box was yet to lessen, yet to ease up, the engravings imprinting into the soft skin of my palms with how hard I clutched at it.
"Hyungs...we can't force her. What if she opens it and decides she can't do what she's spent years trying to build herself upto? I can't see her shatter like that. I refuse to." The third voice of my inner circle speaks, the trio who I trusted with my life, with my secrets and with my title.
Namjoon oppa looks at me, eyes flickering with sympathy and knowledge, the absence of his dimples giving away just how seriously he was taking this, despite the fact he'd tugged on his dressing gown at one sight at me, covering from me the sight of his low-neck linen shirt, eyes blinking at me from behind his thin frames.
He's firmly against it.
And the other two for it.
And for once in my entire life, since I'd asked them to form the backbone of my counsel, of being the ones who'd be my support system, do I find myself adrift- floating on charting waters.
Where do I stand now? How do I make a decision when I am torn?
There's a jaunty knock at the door before a loud exuberant voice enters.
"You better not have started games without me Joonie and Yoongi hyung. Or I'll spill everything to---oh, Your Highness." The bright voice tails off into slight confusion, reading the situation as an emergency counsel between the four of us, his loose casual night attire marking him as one of us, in this strange night gathering and yet he pushes the professionalism to the front, shifting close, hand unconsciously drifting to where his sword would rest.
"No need for that Seokie. I'm not here as a princess, I'm here as (Y/N)." I say with a small wobbly smile, watching as the transition flickers across his face- from Jung Hoseok, Head Guard in charge of my protection, to Seokie the same man who shared gossip of the castle's happenings with me over sweet treats.
He nods, taking the seat immediately next to me- none of the hesitance and torn expressions that my advisor oppas sport.
"Drinking the strong stuff hyung? Somehow I feel I've walked into a nightmare counsel." He laughs, grimacing when he realises how quickly his words ring true.
His eyes fall to the box in my hand, to the expressions everyone sports and immediately connects the dots.
"Let me open it if you won't." he says leaning forward with a determined expression not expecting the way my hands tighten and my body curves forward.
"I'll...I'll do it." I mumble, fingers unlatching from the side and brushing tentatively over the scene engraved into it, of an intertwined knot around a heart, of the flowers that are intricately marking the edges of it and creep over like vines.
I open the box with shaking fingers and trembling breaths, and when I unwrap the silken knot of emerald fabric that sits in the centre, my hands reach out to cradle the piece of jewellery that I draw out.
I unlatch the pendant to see the small miniatures inside, find that my tears finally spill over when I see two small paintings, one of us as children on the right and us in the present on the left. I see how far we've come together, see the limits of how far we could go.
And I find my heart shattering, splintering into pieces.
Torn further than the two divisions it was already separated into, the pieces that belonged to them disintegration and dissolving, embedding sharp shards of glass into my skin, bringing with it a million new hurts and agonies.
I sob as I clutch the pendant, drawing it to my chest as if somehow it could pass through the barriers of clothes and skin and blood and merge with my heart, to keep the image of them there forever, keep the three of us, the bond we shared alive and healthy within the confined embrace of my heart that weeps blood.
I can't hear anything about the sound of grief, over the lament my soul cries as it tears itself apart, withers away and dies. Can't feel anything over the way the metal digs and cuts into my palm, the coldness never seeming to fade, a chip of ice that splinters and forces itself into my skin, bringing with it its numbing chill that carries through my veins, turns me into a lifeless statue from the inside.
I can't feel anything, can't register anything except for the sinking fact that my life is falling apart in front of my own eyes, that everything I'd known, every happiness and joy fading into the void, lost inside it.
And I feel my heart and soul splinter, a chasm opening up over which I stand, the darkness consuming and tugging me down into its depths, where I don't know how far I'll fall, where I'll land- don't know anything for the future that awaits.
"(Y/N)... (Y/N)...Your Highness get a hold of yourself!" a voice demands, hands gripping my shoulders as they pull me out of that chasm, wind themselves around me as a safety rope, firm and secure and I find myself drawn to a solid chest, muscled and firm, the sound of a thudding heart entering my ears and pushing away the coldness, the confusion slightly.
I grip tightly into the fabric of whoever holds me, try to follow the pattern of breathing that a calm patient voice guides me through. Helping me when I falter, when I find my lungs closing up and my throat sealing.
Hands catch where mine claws at my throat, trying to tear at it to get air in somehow, in any way possible, the other still tightly wrapped around the pendant.
"Breathe with me, follow the way I breathe." Drawing my fisted hand to another chest, that rises and falls with an even pattern, voice soft and gentle- broken out of its usual stoic tone to deal with this situation.
"I'm trying...I can't." I sob, breath coming out in sharp painful wheezes, head beginning to spin with how much effort it was taking to do something so simple, so mundane.
"(Y/N) we will get you through this. We are not leaving your side. But first you need to calm down dearheart." Jinnie oppa's voice soothes, a balm to the agony that comes with my whole body being raw, stripped and gaping- a wound that would never heal, never settle, never close.
I find myself blindly leaning towards his voice, towards the promise of salvation and security and of dangers passing, the promise of the tide receiving and the water leaving my lungs.
The same voice that had guided me through countless situations, had helped me pursue the rights I wanted every subject of this nation to have. The same voice that had soothed me once I'd walked away from Minnie and Tae the day after I'd woken up and the world had suddenly changed, turned on its axis.
It takes time but I get there. I learn how to breath naturally, how to draw air into my pained constricting lungs, I learn to follow the rise and fall of Yoongi oppa's chest as he breathes with me, I feel the soft caresses to my hair and feel the pain of the cut in my palm as everything recedes, bringing me back into the present.
All of a sudden my grip around the pendant loosens, the delicate chain sliding out of my grip and it falls onto my lap, muffled by the billowy fabric of my nightgown, my eyes dimly stray to the splatter of blood that taints the corner of the miniatures, tiny flecks that speckle the gown I'm pictured in. And find that my eyes cannot avert any longer, not when on either side of me I find the face of two figures who both ruin me and make me anew with just a glimpse.
I can't do it. Can't bear it.
"Oh sweetpea. The worst thing I've had to do as your protector, is stand there and pretend that it doesn't kill me when you nod along to the others, to the ignorant close-minded people the Queen has picked. Pretend that I don't see a piece of you falling away everytime you walk out from an attendance with her." Hobi says, his face twisted with grief and sympathy, eyes shining with the onslaught of tears.
Because for as fiercely protective he was as my guard, as strong as he was as he taught his men lessons and put them in order, he was equally as tender-hearted, felt as much, and with the bond we shared- hurt as much with me.
Namjoon's face is hardened, none of the sweet, honeyed warmth that seeped out of him when we were alone, when the mask of the advisor fell away to reveal the soft, tender-hearted man who melted hearts with one sweet, dimpled smile- all clumsy and shy, at extreme ends to the ruthlessly intelligent man who cut down ridiculous, oppressive rules like wheat stalks being felled.
"Is there really no way out?" I ask, voice having lost all its strength.
Hoarse as if I'd been screaming for hours on end.
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.
A hardness that comes from wanting to see me survive.
Knowing from the sympathetic light in his eyes, soft and hurting, that he knew that I needed to hear it, that I needed to know where I stood, whether I was willing to take that plunge, or whether I'd allow my life, my significance be blown away like a stray leaf in the wind.
"I have what it takes. But do they? Could I be any more obvious than if I had walked into their chambers and stood bare as the day I was born?" I demand, my tongue looser and words unfiltered as I look at them, look into every pair of eyes, which oddly seems to grow the more I focus, a pleasant fiery feeling chipping away at the ice, melting it.
"Sometimes the eyes don't see what the heart does. Sometimes we are deceived. Sometimes we are pushed into sacrifices we were never prepared for." Yoongi oppa says, evading my question, lips twisted in a grimace- the only indication of how he disapproves of my comment, of me ever reaching such an extent, of entertaining it.
But despair drove people of all statuses high and low, of any stature and of any birth to the extremes, to stoop to levels they would've never dared entertain.
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because in a week I'll belong to Jungkook, in a week the two of us will be bound in a marriage neither of us wants. And we can spend our lives as dolls. Broken discarded dolls." I say, tears splashing onto my cheeks as I hiccup, curling into myself.
I allow myself a few long moments of silent, of grief that my buzzed, inebriated mind notes as a mourning, of the life that will cease to exist in seven days.
Seven days and it'll be over.
Seven days and I'll be shackled.
Seven days until I no longer belong to me.
I get up, staggering as the world spins, the fine ornate furniture teetering and whirling around, their faces blurring and merging and becoming duplicates.
"(Y/N) you're drunk. Ridiculously so!" Seokie grits out, standing immediately to support my swaying frame.
I turn to him.
"Are you mad too? Are you going to pretend nothing's happening?" I ask, hands clutching at him, leaning into him, the small thunk of something hitting the ground a distant sound to my ears.
His face softens.
"Of course not. But we need to get you back to your chambers, without causing an uproar in the castle." He says.
Jinnie oppa stands in front of me, holding out the delicate chain and carefully drawing it around my neck, fingers brushing against the clasp, against my heated skin with a soft brush.
"Let your heart decide. That's the biggest advice I can give." He says softly, fingers swiping at my tears in a show of tenderness that only ever truly surfaced when we were alone, when the only pair of eyes on us were each other's.
And the room continues to spin, ears filling with the hushed low hum of chatter as they decide how to get back.
My grip on Seokie gets tighter, legs stumbling as I grip at him.
"I just don't want to hurt any more. Is that too much to ask?" I whisper into his nightshirt.
"It's not. It's never too much." He whispers, the low vibration of his chest pressing against my cheek.
And it's the last thing I hear as my body falls, vision finally turning black, as I stumble headfirst into that chasm, into that endless consuming void.
I feel a pair of arms encircle my waist, feel hands draw me towards a firm chest, and feel a hand brush across my cheek.
And even as I lean into them, I yearn that they were someone else's, that they were the hands I longed to always hold me close.
And I fall away to the lull of low reverberations and steady steps that sweep me into the shadows.
----
I sob as my stomach spasms, heaving into the sink, body shuddering and painfully twitching with each hurl as my stomach upends and empties itself. Tears rolling down from under shut eyelids, head pounding and feeling utterly miserable as the pained jolts wrack my body.
There's a rap of knuckles at the door.
"Your Highness I'm coming in." a firm male voice calls just as I hear one of my ladies protest, but the door swings open bringing with the male, a gust of fresh cool air that brushes teasingly against my heated skin.
He makes a noise low in his throat, a sympathetic sound, as he walks over, scooping my hair back and rubbing my back as I continue to be sick, the dizziness heavy and strong as the world spins, my hands keeping me up as I grip the edge of the sink.
"This is why you don't down hard liquor. No matter how bad you're feeling." Seokie grits out, voice tight and barely restrained with protective anger.
But he continues to support me through it, even as I hear him mutter how this above his payroll, how the head guard needs a protection detail from this.
But despite all his grumbling he doesn't leave and once I feel like my stomach is empty, body drained and unable to drag myself upright, his hands tighten around my waist and he slowly draws me out, taking me not towards the space where I can flop onto a long chaise and receive attendance of whoever had been on the other side of the doors but instead draws me back to bed, lips tight as he draws the blankets over me, helping me recline against the pillows in a seated position.
"Princess you cannot even move unaided." He grits out, frowning when he notes how heavy my breathing is, taking in the sight of my clammy skin, sweat beading at my temples.
"Not now Seokie...I must go out to receive my visitors." I say, trying to tug myself out of my blankets and clutching my head when the movement sends pain jolting through my head, skull splintering.
"Not now (Y/N)." He echoes, sighing when he stands up straight, drawing a handkerchief from his lapel pocket, fully dressed and body stiff- slipping into the role of my protector, my guard- slight tenderness seeping out as he dabs at my face.
"Stay here, I shall see if their presences are mandatory." He says walking out.
I groan as I sink into the pillows, reaching out for my hand mirror, frowning at the pale clamminess to my skin, to the dark circles that are unhidden- blatant to see and my hair braided back by Seokie, a purple ribbon keeping it away.
And Hoseok frowns when he returns, jaw tight as he steps aside for Jimin and Tae to rush in, eyes wide as they take in my state and move close.
"Gods above (Y/N), what happened?" Tae exclaims without any preamble, voice low and thick with shock, clothes looking as if he's tugged them on in a haste, buttons mismatched and linen shirt billowing around him rather than its usual snug fit, tucked into his breeches.
I feel my heart shatter at the sight of them, at the concern in their gazes and words, even as I crave it, long for it.
Even as I wish that I could hold onto that comfort, that worry for my entire life.
"Nothing, I'm just feeling under the weather." I reply, trying to dismiss it, startling when Jimin frowns as his hand draws my chin towards him, to face him- from my peripheral I see Seokie step forward, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. But he doesn't intervene.
Carefully monitors the situation, body tightly coiled- a spring ready to be unleashed.
"Don't lie. You have terrible shadows under your eyes, you haven't been sleeping well." He accuses, thumb brushing under the delicate skin, a brief caress that threatens to push the cry out of my mouth, biting down on my tongue to stop the pained sound from slipping.
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.
Nothing more than a nuisance.
Nothing more than something that lingers in the corner before impatient hands get rid of it.
And as I leave the two behind I feel that the shattered fragments of my heart leave my body too, silently resting within them.
That even if they never realise, it always was theirs. It always remained there.
And whatever decision I took, it had no intention of leaving the sanctuary, the confines of their sweet gentle souls.
That my heart remained and the person who walked out was a shell, a husk of the girl I wanted to be, of the woman I was yet to grow into.
JIMIN POV:
A day passes. And then two. And with each day I feel despair sink into me, feel sorrow and grief sit heavily in my stomach, feel that the numbness that came with seeing (Y/N) was because I saw how torn she was, saw how much she struggled and how much she pushed herself away.
Saw her teetering on the edge of a cliff, eyes wide with the optimistic hope that someone would pull her away and then saw the growing agony when no hand reached towards her and she fell, silently into the void.
Every glimpse of her was bittersweet agony. Was temptation and resistance tied together.
Because she reminded me of what I wanted, of what we craved, of what we'd long desired and yet she was unreachable, untouchable, she was a figment of a sweet midsummer dream that when I awoke it was to the lingering scent of her in the air and the ghost of her slipping away from touch, from sight.
And every glimpse of her, dress fine and standing tall reminds me of what role she has to play, what shoes she has to fill, but the sight of the ornate heart pendant resting on her skin, warmed by it, the sight of the delicate chain around her throat becomes a stabbing pain of longing, intensifying with each glimpse of it. The chain never leaves her throat, not during the day as she meets assemblies of courtiers, as she sits through meetings, fingers playing with the pendant, nor does it leave during the night where selfishly Tae and I creep into her bed and hold her close, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps deeply, the pendant sitting in the hollow of her throat, warm to the touch, but despite how soundly she sleeps- the dark shadows never leave. As if even in deepest sleep, she is plagued, as if when we slip away she wakes up with nightmares. Or maybe it's because sleep provides her a temporary respite from the nightmare we're all living, and the days consume her, eat at her from the inside.
But I stand there and watch, watch from the shadows that begin to seep into my eyes, into my soul, and slowly breaks away any happiness I once had. I watch as she withers away under my sight, growing restless and pale as the days to her marriage count down, the palace alive with celebration and late-night festivities that never end.
The Queen smiles more in this week than I have ever seen her smile in the past decade. She smiles as if she is absolved of all of her sorrows and griefs and laments, and as her daughter begins to wilt, she blooms- thriving on the joy and uproar the nation has for the sole heir's marriage, for the alliance and strength it will bring to both lands.
And I watch as Prince Jungkook never crosses that boundary of politeness, by her side without fail, never shutting her out, never ignoring her. But in his kindness he becomes a problem that Tae and I cannot overcome. He becomes a barrier between us and (Y/N), there in the early morning to break the day's fast with her, there as she sweeps from her chambers dressed for the day and there to bid her goodnight, with a gentle kiss brushed across her knuckles, his eyes lingering on the band that encircles her finger.
And the thought that he is able to see her first thing, when she's all sleepy and pliant and dazed with remnants of sleep, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness, drifting in and out as she moves around makes my heart ache. That he gets to see her softest side, that he gets to see her at her most vulnerable.
The knowledge that it is his lips that are the final thing to touch her before she retires for the night, that the weight of their relationship exists as a tangible physical reminder on her finger begins to outweigh the proof of our love, of our unexpressed feelings that lie resting on the intimate, delicate skin of her throat, there for the world to see and yet all eyes are drawn to the much smaller jewellery that rests on her hand.
The passing of the days and nights are like blinks of an eye, time slipping through my fingers and as desperately as I flail and try to clutch at it, it evades me- the mocking ticking of the clocks reminding me that this link, this connection is beginning to breathe its last.
And as the eve of her wedding approaches, I find myself drifting to the orchard, drawn to the place where it all began, unsurprised to find Tae seated under the large tree, peering up with wistfulness.
He just sighs and leans to rest his head against me once I take a seat beside him, fingers inching out to rest on my knee, warmth seeping out from under his touch.
"How many seasons have passed with us returning here?" he asks.
"Years. I've seen the world outside the palace walls change, but this place, the orchard remains the same. Stuck in time. Perhaps just like us- unwilling and unable to move on from that moment." I say, voice heavy with despair.
"Does such a world not exist where we could hold her and take her away from all this? Where the three of us can live forever happy? Can this orchard not exist beyond time and keep us safe within it?" Tae muses, fingers drawing letters into my clothed thigh, absentmindedly I realise writing her name over and over onto my body.
I lean my head to rest atop his, feeling bitterly nostalgic as the scent of him carries to me, the scent that young (Y/N) had no qualms about marvelling over, rubbing figures onto his skin to see if it would carry. There was a spicy sweet scent to him, like crackling embers over soft mallows, the spicy tone to fruit tarts and the heat of something intrinsically him.
"I wish for it so much Tae. I wish for it so much I could die from longing." I murmur, gently allowing my hand to rest atop his, to turn to press a whisper of a kiss to his head.
"Then why do we hesitate? Why do we care for the titles, for the laws, for the vows we made that were bound with blood, bound with our seals?" he muses aloud, to himself than to me.
I am a mere spectator to this existential question.
Why can't we break free?
Why are we like the curling stray vines of plants, the wild berries that grow without being planted, the exotic birds trapped by an ornate, lavish cage? Why do we not fit? Why do we not get the chance to grow and live as we will it?
And yet the question is swallowed up the slightly chilly breeze, consumed and taken away without a response.
"We care because without them we are nothing. We care because we have no choice but to. We care because we never find the key to unlock the cage and set us free." A delicate soft voice calls, brushing over us like the wind, invisible and soft and yet slowly comes into appearance as the skirt of a soft pink gown comes into sight, the shade of blooming roses in the midst of spring, the colour of the sweet blush that decorates her skin prettily. A gentle shade of pink and as our eyes trail up, they come face to face with (Y/N), not the princess. But (Y/N).
Looking devastatingly her with her hair unbound, free from the ornate knots and braids and twists that pin them back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, tumbling down her back, lifted up slightly as the wind ruffles through them, kisses them. Face bare, dressed simply with no cloak to shield her from the chill. Unbothered by it even as I see her skin pebble, see the small puff of air as she breathes.
Her eyes are full of grief though. Devastation in them.
As she looks at us with raw feeling eyes, I feel myself stripped away of everything except the bare essence of me, vulnerable and at her feet as I peer at her. See her eyes sweep over me, both unseeing and seeing, see how they sparkle and shine with glassiness.
Hovering over a fine delicate line from being turned into hardened marble and yet teeters dangerously into the tender-hearted, emotive person she is.
She kneels down in front of us, uncaring as her skirt folds under her and leans forward.
Her hand is soft and chilled as it sweeps over my brow, brushes tenderly through my hair and drifts to trace my face, to do the same to Tae- unable to fight the urge and melt into her touch, that ignites a thousand fires, a thousand desires- all of them roaring and demanding to pull her close, duties be damned and just keep her there.
Hold her before she shatters and breaks and nothing can put her together anymore.
"Know that in another world, another life I'd find you. That what I couldn't have here, I'd have fought for in another existence. That in that world, I would've asked for the real beating versions of what you leave me behind with." She says, fingers sliding to fiddle to the pendant almost unconsciously, clenching at it tightly for a few moments before her hand relaxes, the slither of a red cut visible before her hand falls.
And it feels like a farewell when she doesn't hesitate to lean forward, brushing her lips across our foreheads, a whisper of love that had the strength to voice itself whilst the rest is swallowed up.
And when the tears slip down her cheeks, she looks at us through glassy eyes, lips trembling as she smiles.
"Thank you for every moment. Thank you for giving me the biggest gift of all. Thank you for breathing life into me." she says, standing up and backing away quickly, feet treading into the grass as her figure retreats, painfully beautiful as she leaves, the glimpse and tantalising taste of what summer beauty was given to us in the midst of winter. And she fades from sight, hurrying away from us, the curve of her back as she turns away the most heart wrenching sight, the biggest wound to be inflicted on us.
Tae scrabbles up, fumbling and he falls forward onto his knees, clutching at the ground as he weeps, head bowed and defeated, whispering her name over and over in pained cries, tears soaking the earth, watering the roots of the very tree that became so special to us decades ago.
He gasps and shudders, crying without restraint. The figure of a defeated crushed soul with no hope left.
And I can't bring myself to hold him, to soothe him, because when she'd left she'd turned some part of me into stone, numb and frozen- unable to break away from the drawn-up posture, eyes focused on the point where she'd vanished from sight.
And the tears that silently trickle down my cheeks are cold too.
As if with her leaving, the warmth was sapped out of me.
And nothing but a permanent frost remains.
The rare bloom of winter vanishing from sight, leaving only emptiness in her wake.
TAE POV:
The doors are shut and yet are unable to bar the sounds of rambunctious laughter, of rowdiness as the courtiers gather and begin filling the palace halls, of the life and merriment seeping into every corner of the palace and every living being coming together to celebrate the historical, monumental union.
The doors are shut and yet the floodgates of my weeping heart are open, each droplet of blood fused with tears, with grief so profound that I find myself listless, feel an ache deep inside me that gnaws away, chipping away large chunks of me. And soon enough nothing will remain.
The clock ticks closer and closer to the wedding ceremony, to the cursed fated hour where three lives will be torn apart, where everything I'd ever wanted would shatter into a million pieces, where all my dreams and hopes would like smoke go curling into the air, vanishing from sight.
It felt like the end was near. That each burst of laughter, each bubble of voice was bringing me closer and closer to the edge, bringing me to that state of no return.
And each sleepless night, each tear wrung out of my exhausted body and soul was consumed by the night's darkness, hidden away under the cover it provided. And in the day I tried to be the best version of me, trying to keep the me that begged and pounded on the barriers I held up, to let them fall, to let me rush to her, to fall to her knees and beg, beg for a chance, for anything but this.
And yet I knew I couldn't do that.
Knew I couldn't ask her to throw away everything her life was built towards, everything the nation relied on solely because all I had to offer was my heart, weakly beating and struggling to continue thudding without her. Without Jimin.
It didn't matter how much efforts I put in to make the day the absolute best I could. It didn't matter that I'd sat through hours in the steam-filled kitchens to list all of her favourite foods, the tastes I knew could appease to her even if she wasn't in the mood. It didn't matter that the Masters of the Wardrobe were instructed by me to make the clothes for her of the utmost comfort, ordering soft linings for her shoes because I knew just how much she had trouble sleeping if her legs throbbed with pain. It didn't matter about any of the details because the main picture that was assembled didn't include me, didn't include Jiminie, didn't have the three of us together.
The harsh inconsumable reality was that it was all for a future that I had no part of.
And yet the longer I stared at myself, the longer I tried to peer into my depths I found that the image of me faded away, melted away without her. Coming to the conclusion that with the future the nations had charted out, I simply didn't exist. I faded away.
And everytime I closed my eyes I was plagued with the sight of her in tears, her final farewell slipping off her lips, finally daring herself to take in that moment of just the three of us.
How bitterly fitting that our first meeting and final meeting under the tree was filled with tears. That the same girl who'd once wiped away my tears as I'd fallen from the tree, cradling my broken leg on her lap as she wiped away my stream of tears with small chubby fingers was the same woman who pressed a kiss to my skin and cried as she tore herself away from us.
"Your Highness, Prince Jimin is demanding your presence in your attending chamber. He says it's most urgent." The male attender announces, head bowed as he opens the door, not seeing that I stand there shattered and torn.
I nod.
"Please leave the chambers. I do not require further assistance." I say, finding that my voice wobbles and cracks.
There's another stiff bow and the sharp clacking of polished shoes as the man leaves.
I look at myself and glower, hating the weak man that greets me. Hate that I'm crying over my own actions, over my own inability to yell at her that duties be damned, that I'd spend every day working to keep a roof over our heads if our titles were stripped- if only she came with us.
And when I walk into the adjacent connecting chamber, dabbing at my wet face with the edge of my ruffled sleeves I stop short.
Because Jimin is standing there, finely dressed, every bit a mighty prince had it not been for the confused, worried expression on his face, plump lip dragged between teeth.
"What's wrong Jiminie?" I say rushing forward, finding my heart too weak to bear anymore grief and yet unable to hold back from moving to him.
But then he steps aside to reveal a dishevelled, tear-stained Jungkook hunched low on the armchair, hand fisted tight, clenching something but then he looks at me, eyes wide and glassy and bolts to his feet.
"Your Grace what..." I begin uncertainly, unsure as to what I've walked in, and trying to ignore the way my heartstrings tug at the sight of him looking so vulnerable, so raw.
So far from the polite composed prince I'd silently resented in my mind.
And I feel guilt snake into my chest when he looks at the two of us with imploring wide doe-eyes, tears clinging to his lashes.
"She...she knows!" he gasps out, hand trembling as he clutches at his fitted doublet and shirt, over his heart as if trying to claw it out.
"Knows what? Who knows what?" Jimin urges, voice carefully neutral but I detect the note of urgency.
His hand fisting around something, which I realise is a piece of paper trembles violently.
"(Y/N) knows. She knows about me and Jin hyung and she...she's gone. Gone to deal with it herself." He sobs out, body curving, looking utterly devastated and panicked.
Any politeness, restraint and manners fly out of my head as I grip his shoulders, clenching tightly onto him. Barely registering that Jin reminds me of her advisor, of the broad-shouldered handsome man who leads the cabinet of her counsel.
"Gone where? Jungkook where has she gone?" I demand, panic lacing my words, fear making it shake.
Jimin tugs the letter out his hand, a grounding hand on Jungkook's shoulder who looks as if his world is tearing apart.
"She, she said she absolves me of any responsibility and tie to her. And that hyung...hyung will free me. But where has she gone?" he demands, sounding hysterical as he sobs, genuinely concerned for her, her disappearance the priority.
I see as Jimin smoothens out the paper and I lean over his shoulder to read it, finding myself stumbling as the words sink in.
As her final words sink in.
No.
Not like this.
(Y/N) you reckless stupid girl.
Never like this.
Her words, haunting and starkly clear on the paper says it all.
I've learnt that duty is the death of love, but I won't let your love die. Break free and live life, don't be a doll, a puppet as I have been. Be brave and bold and know that the person you've given your heart to is someone I had entrusted my life to. Know that you were born to be a bird whose cage I opened. Fly from this Jungkookie. Fly from duty and live with happiness. And know I wish only good for you; in the short time I knew you- I find solace and comfort in the fact we were on the same boat.
Truth is my boat is far too rocky and unstable that should I dive off to survive, it would be to be tugged into merciless waters. My doom is confirmed. Your boat can be smooth-sailing, so take Jinnie and live life on unrippled waters. I'm destined for rockiness, for grief whatever path I choose.
But you, you brought me a glimpse of how life could be. And I cannot hold you from that, from this moment you are freed of every duty, every responsibility that binds us together. And I too have gone to free myself, to be unchained in the only way I know now, the only path I can take now.
Know that the brief time I knew you, I knew only kindness and support and maybe one day we could meet in a different life as friends. Friends because my heart has never been mine, had never belonged to me- and that as I leave I leave it in the possession of the two dearest to me.
I pray with every last remaining bit of me for your happiness to sail, that like swans the two of you remain joined for life.
May the winds be by your side and the earth welcoming wherever you tread. I free you so I alone can drown in my despair and free myself in the only way left.
Don't waste a single moment in grief, don't mourn for a life that never lived. And should the two captives of my heart ever wonder where I went, tell them that I went in search for that world where the three of us could exist together.
The paper flutters to the ground, stained with inkblots, letters blurring.
The letter sinks to the ground and rests there, sinking to the bottom and unable to go any further.
And with one piece of paper my life slips away, the noose around my throat gets tighter, and my lungs collapse. Suddenly failing to breathe, heart failing to beat.
And despite all the strength leaving my body, I remain standing- a statue.
The sobs that fill the silent air are full of grief and mourning and desperation. The door slams open and the sound of rushed footsteps fill it, cries for a figure who's not here.
Loud panicked, disbelieving yells for (Y/N).
And those yells drive me past the figures, a hand snagging mine as I rush out, unable to think past the roaring in my ears, past the unearthly scream as my soul begs for it to be false, heart thudding loudly.
I don't know where I'm going.
Don't know where to begin searching for her.
But knowing in that instant.
Knowing that life without her was worse than existing as a husk, an empty shell, and knowing that if I didn't life battling every obstacle, didn't fight my damned hardest to get to her- then I was the coward, then I was the one who let her go.
And there was no way I was willing to take that sacrifice. To let her go without letting her know.
And if she was leaving like this, thinking she could vanish without saying it to me directly, by leaving me behind with the words she'd poured her life into without she heard mine, then she was cruel.
"(Y/N)...you stupid fool. You can't leave me like this. Don't leave..." I sob as I rush to the stables, fingers tearing at the leather harness of the bridle, tugging it free.
The hand holding mine tightens in a bruising grip.
"She can't leave. I refuse to let that happen." Jimin echoes, voice shaking with anger and hurt and tears.
And in that second our minds connect, our souls merge with the common burning insistent desire.
That there was no cage in the world that we would allow her to remain trapped in. That to our final breath we'd fight for her, fight for each other. And fight for ourselves.
Because it wasn't a matter about duty anymore.
It was a matter of happiness, of love, of hope.
And nothing was getting in the way of that.
Not even her own ridiculous stubbornness.
(THERE WE GO! PART 3! AND OOPS- IT SOMEHOW GOT WRITTEN AS SUPER LONG BUT I WANT THE FEELS TO MAKE IT ACROSS. MY DARLING Midiiplier , IF YOU DIDN'T TEAR UP- I DIDN'T DO A GOOD JOB. FACTS. AND AHHH! WE HAVE REACHED THE CLIMAX!! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND REACTIONS! AND I HOPE THE ENDING WASN'T WEIRD- WRITTEN WISE...HMMM. I HAVE A FEW DOUBTS! BUT HERE YOU GO! ENJOY, TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE! AND MY DARLING...YOU BEAUTIFUL QUEEN FOR BRINGING THIS IDEA TO ME, I FOREVER REMAIN IN YOUR DEBT! LOVE YOU!)
Borahae! 💜💜💜
PurpleQueenie <3