The history books are always written as definitive facts, in black and white, with all the emotions filtered and removed.

 

In the history books, the fate of French revolutionary general Yoongi and Prince Jimin ends in tragedy, perhaps as expected of two souls at opposite ends, in a turbulent time where many lives were crushed by the waves of change.

 

On an unassuming night in April 1790, Yoongi and Jimin had a heated argument in the master bedroom of the Toulouse palace. The head servant Jin reported of hearing shouting and screaming, followed by gunshot. By the time he made his way to the room, fire had already broken out from a tipped coal heater, trapping the two injured victims in the room. All the servants scrambled and escaped unharmed, but the flames spread viciously, aided by strong night wind. By the time the fire has finally been put out, it has already swept through three neighbouring blocks, and decimated most of the palace, amongst many other buildings. The golden gallery, with all the priceless artifacts and paintings, the glittering chandeliers and memories of a hundreds lavish parties, is no longer.

 

In the debris, people are able to find the charred remains of the generals and the prince, two allied enemies that each other in the end. Prince Lamballe’s prized personal possession, a blue diamond encrusted ring that had never left his finger, was found as identification.

 

In the wake of his death, Jimin’s aging father, the duke of Penthièvre, was investigated by the Paris police, but eventually sent to remain at chateau Rambouillet until he died of old age six years later, with the family servant Jin by his side.

 

Captain Namjoon became the infantry general, as replacement for Yoongi. Namjoon lived a long and illustrious life, exiled after the revolutionary assembly crumbled, and returned to Paris during the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte to be promoted to the grand admiral of the French army.

 

Victoria de Bourbon drifted between multiple repositories for exiled royals, before meeting and marrying Phillippe Orleans. She gave birth to a son, Louis Philippe Orleans. The family of three returned to Paris after Napoleon’s empire ended, and Victoria’s son became the last king of France by birthright. Victoria restored the family crypt of the Bourbon and Orlean families, and moved the remains of her brother, Prince Jimin, back to the crypt. Her final resting place was right next to him.

 

That is the conclusion of this story, according to the history books - in black and white, with all the emotions filtered and removed. All the laughters and tears, the longing and heartache, forgotten and swept away by the passage of time.

 

But history books are no more than stories that were shaped and moulded by the living, so that they can make sense of the past, and be comforted by the logical progression of events. Even when the past doesn’t usually make sense, even when feelings are often messy and illogical, beyond our control.

 

Contrary to what the historians would like us to believe, emotions are what truly matters, what form the basis of our past. After all, the world is nothing but a mirage on our mind, and all the muddled sensations between the black and white are what we are made of.

 

The story of revolutionary general Yoongi and Prince Jimin may have happened very differently than what was recorded. It may have occurred somewhat like this:

 

Dark, cold and damp.

 

The street outside of the Toulouse palace is quiet, faint lamplights from the houses lining the street too feeble to reach the cobblestone pavement.

 

They slip through the palace gate together, head lowered and shrouded by worn out capes that concealed the common garbs underneath.

 

With each step, Jimin can feel the weight of the pistol in his coat pocket, and the shifting of the small dagger strapped on the side of his belt.

 

Yoongi’s silhouette is right behind him, in the corner of his eye, blurring into the night yet reassuring in its presence. They walk in sync to each other, striding down the street briskly and turning at the first corner, heading towards the wagon parked ahead of them.

 

The night sky above is filled with muddled clouds, with the stars and moon nowhere to be found. Jimin shoots a glance at the sky, thinking absently of Jin waiting back at the house, ready to tip the coal heater in an hour after they’ve hopefully made out of the city walls.

 

It was all surprisingly easy - finding two corpses that fits the heights, strategizing with Jin to plan out the safe exit of all the other servants. Even the goodbye felt like deja vu, as if they’ve known for months that the end was near.

 

“Thank you, for everything…” Words felt inadequate, how to encapsulate years of growing up together with a few sentences.

 

Jin flashed him a comforting smile, the warmth of it radiating in his heart long afterwards, “I wish you the life you’ve always wanted, my prince. And don’t worry, I’ll be honoured to stay with the duke til the very end.”

 

Why must there be tears at every goodbye? Why must he walk the path until nobody is left beside him…

 

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the rapid shuffling of boots against the gravel road. His gaze snaps up to spot four city policemen rapidly approaching, “Stop.”

 

Jimin lifts his chin and pauses, “Good evening, officers.”

 

“Where are you two off to?” One of the policeman waves the lamp in hand towards their face.

 

Yoongi pipes up from next to him, raising his hand haphazardly to shield his gaze from the sphere of amber light, “Off to the tavern for a drink, been a long day.”

 

“Is that so? What do you two do for keep?”

 

“Clerks, sir. We both work at the bank five blocks down.”

 

“A bit late for bank work, isn’t it?”

 

Jimin glances at Yoongi and responds with an apologetic grin, “My fault, really. Messed up the records today, he was just helping me sort it out.”

 

The policeman hums. Jimin lowers his gaze, “Well, officers, it’s getting late-“

 

His words are cut off abruptly by a wave of the hand, “Could you both remove your hood please?” Jimin looks up and meets the stern glare of the policeman as he continues, “We have been told to patrol this area due to the recent anti-assembly activities. I’m sure you understand.”

 

Jimin’s heart sinks at the words. His gaze darts between all the policemen, hoping that he doesn’t recognize any of them.

 

“As you wish.” Yoongi pipes up lazily beside him, but Jimin turns and spots the sombreness washing over his profile, and how his eyes suddenly shine with renewed focus.

 

Jimin mirrors Yoongi’s motion, and removes the hood slowly. The lamp zooms towards his face and pauses. Jimin turns, pretending to be blinded the brightness of the light, as his hand slides slowly towards the opening of his cape.

 

The policemen whisper amongst themselves, and sparks of recognition flicker in their eyes. Yoongi grimaces and gives him a tiny nod.

 

“Perhaps it’s best that you follow us back-“

 

Jimin sees the glint of sharp blade in Yoongi’s hand, and cuts the policeman’s sentence short with a forceful kick to his abdomen. As the opponent groans and crouches down, Jimin whips out his dagger and aims for the throat, fingers whiteknucking on the handle and driving it in with absolution.

 

The dagger punctures through the flesh and draws a nasty cut, but the opponent pulls out of the attack and dodges to the left. With a growl, he straightens up, flipping the bayonet off the shoulder holster, and supports it with both hands. His left foot stomps forward, as his torso lunges towards Jimin, sharp spear aiming straight for his chest.

 

Jimin narrows his eyes and responds, fully aware of the fact that the moment of surprise attack has elapsed. This is now a fight to the death.

 

He tries to sidestep out of the way, but the spear still lands on his right arm and jolts the body awake as it slashed through his skin. Jimin stumbles and pulls his arm out of the way, feeling adrenaline coursing through his veins and numbing the onslaught of pain.

 

The bayonet’s long range prevents him from getting closer to the opponent, who is also broader and taller than him. There’s only one solution - Jimin musters all his strength, and kicks onto the opponent’s front hand holding the bayonet. As expected, the opponent responds by tightening his grip, and pulling the bayonet to the side, exposing the side of his torso. Jimin pulls up the dagger holding hand and slams it down again towards the unguarded waist.

 

This time, he gets a better angle. There’s a loud scream, as Jimin drives the blade deeper into the flesh, and shoves the opponent into the ground with the other hand. Scarlet stains blossom against the navy police uniform, as blood begins to pour out.

 

Jimin pushes through ragged breath, and lands the dagger again, and again and again. With one opponent down, he looks up and feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of Yoongi being surrounded by the other three policemen.

 

He’s wielding a small saber frantically, feet wide apart and delivering kicks with a desperate savageness. One of the opponent is wobbling with a puncture to the stomach, but the other two bear their bayonets down at Yoongi, restricting his motion and threatening his life with every powerful of the weapons.

 

Yoongi looks towards him, and with sweat and blood drenching his face, gestures towards the wagon down the street, mouthing silently, “Just leave.”

 

As the message clicks on Jimin’s mind, exasperation surges in his veins. He growls and disobeys, charging towards the one policeman that’s pulling out a whistle from his coat, and knocking him over with sheer brute force.

 

Jimin kicks and punches his way closer towards Yoongi. There are slashes across Yoongi’s torso, but his eyes are ablaze with resolve, and his lips curl up faintly as Jimin shields his back.

 

Shaking his head, Jimin dodges a spear slamming towards his face. Just as one policeman hollers out, “Help, we need reinforcement!”, Jimin swings his arm and cuts across his throat with the blade. In the corner of his eye, Yoongi kicks the already wounded policeman onto the ground, making him fumble and fall with a dull thud.

 

The last standing policeman widens his eyes and pauses, only to be met with Jimin’s swinging punch, and staggers back. Yoongi’s saber is by his neck in a flash, and the man’s lips tremble as he falls to the ground, kneeling. Words are pushed out of him, shaky and seeped in fear, “Please, I won’t say anything, please just go.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes flicker and dim, as he huffs with sweat beading down his face. Against the clamor in the distance, he rasps out a muted response, “Forgive me.” As the saber slams into the policeman’s abdomen, Jimin turns away.

 

“Go get the wagon.”

 

Jimin nods and runs towards the dark outline in the distance. A rancid smell knocks him over as he gets near, his arm rising instinctually to cover his nose. Flies swarm above the small open wagon, with sheets of clothes covering up the carcasses in the back. The two horses seem to be in decent condition. Jimin loosens the reins tied to a tree and climbs onto the driver’s bench.

 

As he steers the wagon around, he spots Yoongi’s hunched figure on the street, moving between the policemen on the ground, the slashing of his saber casting a wave of dull glint.

 

When Yoongi finally climbs into the seat next to him, and slumps down with a heavy sigh, Jimin grumbles under his breath, “Don’t ever tell me to ditch you like that again, it’s not who am I.”

 

Yoongi hums noncommittally, hand reaching towards the wound on his abdomen. They charge full speed ahead without another word.

 

It takes them what feels like an eternity to reach the eastern gate by the city wall. They have shedded the blood splattered robes by now, and covered up their wounds with mud and grime as much as possible.

 

There are half a dozen soldiers at the gate, drudging about with grogginess written all over their faces. How differently this place will look soon, when news arrive of the four murdered policemen on the street.

 

Jimin musters a nonchalant smile, and stops the wagon in front of the guards.

 

“Papers.” A tall guard orders flatly. Jimin retracts all the prepared documents from his pocket and hands it over.

 

The guard flips through them and hands them back, twitching his nose at the stench, “You’ll have to wait til the morning, no overnight pass throughs.”

 

Jimin frowns but keeps his voice friendly, “What do you mean by that?”

 

The guard sneers, “You heard me. It’s the new decree as of two days ago, nobody crosses the gates until morning.”

 

Jimin smiles and pulls out a few coins from his pocket, “Well, perhaps the rules could be bent once? After all, I’m sure you wouldn’t want the likes of this wagon to linger near your post.” He gestures at the back of the wagon with an apologetic grin.

 

The guard shoves his hand away roughly, “It's not up to me. Go wait by the wall over there til dawn.”

 

Yoongi exhales sharply next to Jimin, and bolts up and hops off the wagon, surprising both Jimin and the guards. He strides to the back and rips one of the canvases right off, exposing the rotten carcasses of sheeps and goats, as maggots swarm in a pool of dark fluid.

 

“Look, all these animals are infected with the plague. Low lives like us may not care, but do you and all the other guards also want to take the risk? There’s a reason these wagons get clearance through the city gates, I suggest you don’t tamper with the system over some poorly planned-out new decree.”

 

The guards back away from the wagon, gasping with pinched brows, the taller one gulps and hesitates. Jimin’s heart tenses as he hears noise echoing on the distant street. But the tall guard finally relents, looking away while waving impatiently, “Scram. Get to the gate before dusk next time, or I’ll throw both of you in jail for disturbance.”

 

The wagon strolls through the gate, then Jimin steers for a long time at full speed in the dark, diverging onto a smaller offshoot road, before finally slowing down. He checks on the lamps and horse, and faces Yoongi, “Think it’s safe to toss out those carcasses now? I hope Jin wrapped up all the belonging really well.”

 

“Knowing him, I’m sure they are triple wrapped with perfect folded corners, all lined up neatly under the pile of rotten flesh.” Yoongi murmurs, pushing a chuckle out of Jimin.

 

Relief finally wells up, loosening his tense muscles, making him suddenly aware all the sharp pains shooting up from the wounds. Jimin leans in to check on the gash by Yoongi’s abdomen, only to have his hand swatted away.

 

Jimin sighs, “You just have to fight me every single time. I thought we could at least pretend to be a little more amicable with each other, since this is probably the last night we will ever see each other.”

 

Yoongi’s body stiffens.

 

Jimin wipes his face roughly, and eyes him, “Well, we will get to the closest town before dawn, and I figure by then you will deem I’m safe enough to go on?”

 

Yoongi’s looking straight ahead without a word.

 

“You are free, general. You’ve delivered your promise, and for that I’m forever grateful.” Jimin pulls up his wavy blonde locks, and pushes the words out, keeping his voice as calm as possible, “What’s your plan now? We can divvy up the money and jewelry once we unpack everything, it should be enough for you to travel for a while.”

 

Silence. The wind blows, smelling of dried grass and deep winter, the lamps shroud them in a tiny sphere stranded in an ocean of blackness,

 

When Yoongi finally speaks, his voice is quiet and hoarse, “You will go look for him?”

 

“Taehyung? Yeah…” A smile spreads by the corner of Jimin’s lips, “I found out the whereabout of the viscount he tried to save, I have a hunch that if he’s still alive, he’d be there too.”

 

“That’s good.” The response is dispirited.

 

Jimin glances at him, feeling a tinge of guilt at the faraway look in Yoongi’s eyes, “I’m sorry it had to come to this, faking our deaths, forcing you to abandon your position.”

 

“It’s fine. We both agreed to minimize the amount of people involved in the plan.” Yoongi whispers.

 

To minimize the casualties, in case it didn’t work out. The reasoning was never discussed but understood by both.

 

Jimin rubs on the leather rein in his palm, “I couldn’t have done this without you, and frankly, I’m happy you’ve left Paris behind. There’s no guilt in self preservation.”

 

“I suppose not.”

 

Yoongi’s slumped figure seems to withdraw into itself, head dipped down, one hand pushing into the seat, propping himself up. There’s such weariness to his profile, as if the heavy weight on his shoulders still lingers, even outside of the city walls.

 

Jimin sighs and nudges a little closer, “It’ll be fine, I’m sure Namjoon will carry out all your plans. The political scene is changing every day, faster than any of us could comprehend. People will adjust.”

 

“Yeah.” Yoongi stares at his hands.

 

“Hey-” Gingerly, Jimin pulls him by the arm, “-hey, stop thinking about it. I don’t care what others have told you, I want you to know that you are human, just like each one of us. And you deserve some happiness too, we all do. You are free, we both are. It’ll take time to make sense of things, but go live your life in the meantime, give yourself permission to let go.”

 

Yoongi is silent still for a moment. When Jimin begins to give up and retract his hand, he hears a whisper, “You know, I thought about what you said before, how I was stubborn to cling onto ideas that were long lost as the assembly evolved. You were right, I thought I’d be fine back there, sticking it out til the bitter end…”

 

Jimin pats him on the arm, and Yoongi continues, head dipping lower, “I may never let it all go, may regret my actions for a very long time, but somehow, fate has brought me here. And you nudged all along the way…” he sighs, small puffs of breath dissipating in the darkness, “Maybe two people is better for survival after all…”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“The alliance, I mean.” Yoongi mutters, gaze averted.

 

The words catch Jimin off guard, he stares at Yoongi incredulously, “You mean…”

 

“Well… it doesn’t have to end, right? We could still help each other?”

 

Jimin could swear there’s a flush on Yoongi’s cheeks, but he can’t be sure in the dark. He stammers and comments, “Yeah, of course - wow, I -“

 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, I can figure something out-“ Yoongi cuts him off.

 

“No no, “ Jimin grabs him by the shoulder, “I’m just surprised. Yes, together, of course.” He grins ear to ear, feeling the gloom dissipating around them, “You’re ok with my plan? You are fine with travelling east across the border?”

 

A tiny nod.

 

“Oh, this is, wow. I’m glad!” Jimin chuckles out loud and gives Yoongi’s shoulders a hearty shake.

 

Yoongi looks towards him, gaze gentle, “I hope so.” The lamplight reflects off his pale profile faintly, dancing in his eyes like tiny stars hidden behind the clouds. Jimin pauses, willing to commit the way Yoongi looks to memory, before leaning in and grazing by his flushed cheek. The skin feels icy to the touch, drawing some inexplicable tenderness out of him, as he dwells in the moment, letting the relief seep into his heart.

 

By the time Jimin pulls back, he’s certain, with some smug satisfaction, that the flush has deepened and spreaded up to Yoongi’s ears.

 

Yoongi stutters out of a response, “What - what was that for?”

 

Jimin chuckles again, and moves to grab the rein, “Um, for good luck.”

 

Yoongi hums, and they are off again, heading into the darkness, a little more languidly, a little more relaxed. Jimin shifts his seat and nudges into Yoongi more, “How’s your German anyways?”

 

“Practically non-existent.”

 

A dramatically raised brow, “Well then, I suppose you will rely heavily on this alliance to survive.”

 

“Speak for yourself, when was the last time you did anything without a servant?” A scoff.

 

“Woh, that’s what you think of me? That I’m just some useless aristo? Didn’t you see how I fought back there?”

 

“Fighting is one thing, but not knowing how to cook and wash laundry is another thing. Seems like you will need to be taught many of those.”

 

“We’ll see, we’ll see. Plenty of time to figure it all out.” Jimin thumbs at his ring finger, noticing the absence of the familiar outline. No matter, he muses inwardly and steals a sideway glance at Yoongi next to him - maybe he has a new memento to remember the past by, after all.