There is indeed something magical about chateau de Rambouillet. The air of languid enchantment extends through the gilted hallways of glittering chantelliers, beyond the formal garden with radiating canals and avenues, all the way up to the edge of the property where the expansive stable overlooks the lush Rambouillet forest in the distance.

 

Jimin extends out his arms for a lazy stretch, and soaks in the chilly winter breeze.

 

The crisp air here is a distinct mix of earthy dried weed scent, invigorated by the vitality of the horses surrounding him. It excites and calms him simultaneously, like nothing in Paris ever could.

 

The familiar white stallion in front of him is alert, a soft glimmer in his bright brown eyes, tail swaying. Jimin pats his forehead and smiles as the horse nudges into his touch.

 

Missed me, Buc?

 

He turns to see Yoongi frowning at the mare in front of him. Much more diminutive in stature, the brown horse has softer curves and an unimpressively lazy stance.

 

Jimin chuckles, “Lia is gentle, an easy ride for beginners.”

 

Yoongi shoots a sour glance at him, and tucks in his loose shirt dismissively. Jin brought some of Jimin’s old hunting outfit for him this morning - shirt, breeches and a pair of worn out leather boots - and commented that “master Yoongi is certain to grumble at the fit”.

 

“I’m starting to think this was nothing more than an exercise in humiliation.”

 

Jimin suppresses a snicker, hands staying busy on the stallion in front of him, checking the saddles for tightness, “It was your idea, practicing riding. And I’m not doing it in your cramped little barrack in town, while we can have all this at Rambouillet.”

 

He extends his gaze out and sighs at the sight. An endless field stretches out in front of them, punctured by a shimmering ravine that ribbons through, bordered by the outline of a dense forest onto the west. The solemnness of winter cannot diminish the beauty of the land, and Jimin feels his mind relaxing at the sight of it.

 

Home, the land that nurtured him as he grew up, the place that calls to him when he’s away and reminding him quietly, of where his heart belongs.

 

He glances at Yoongi and comments, “You look fine. The clothes are a bit loose but it’s the best Jin could do given the short notice.”

 

Yoongi retorts, “Just admit it, you don’t want to be seen with someone in a National Guard uniform.”

 

“Well,” Jimin arches a brow, “we have always cared for folks in our seigneuries, especially during droughts and war. In return, they‘ve been loyal to my family for centuries. If anything, they are more concerned about the instability that the new assembly brings, I'd say it’s for your own safety to not flaunt your identity around here.”

 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and steps towards the saddle, waving off the servants hovering around. His hands grip onto the holster and give it a hard tug. The mare stomps and nickers in response, but stays put. Yoongi digs his foot into the stirrup and climbs on clumsily, pulling his other leg over.

 

Jimin steps over and scans to check out the details, hands reaching in to loosen his rein, “Looking good. Open up your chest, relax, and you might end up less sore tomorrow.”

 

“Got it. No need to rub it in.” Yoongi glares, torso shifting and leaning into the saddle.

 

Jimin’s lips quirk into a grin, “No I mean it, you look good on a horse, where a soldier belongs. Hard to believe, but I’m quite capable at compliments when they are warranted.” He glide his hand over Lia’s mane, before sauntering away.

 

Jimin swings himself over his horse swiftly and stops by Yoongi, “Stay with me.” He gazes into the cloudy horizon, “We’ll go for a short ride, the weather should be able to hold up.”

 

Yoongi nods and tightens his legs against the horse.

 

They stride off, slowly passing the stable and the groomed grounds of the chateau, until the field opens up and turns muddy with a patchy layer of dried grass.

 

A light wind blows, rustling the occasional bushes around them, jolting Jimin awake. It’s been a while since he’s visited the chateau and taken Buc on a ride, especially since even going through the city gates nowadays requires special permits, but the synergy between them has never faded. He was his first full size stallion, went on his first hunting trip with him, one of the few constances in his life over the years. And the way Buc senses and responds to Jimin’s command wordlessly brings him such comfort, like bonding with a childhood friend.

 

Next to him, Yoongi’s back is firm and straight, but the fingers gripping onto the reins curl languidly. His usually stiff features are relaxed in the gentle afternoon light, lips parted slightly. Away from the clamor of the political court and the weight of his responsibilities, Yoongi suddenly seems younger and more acquiescent than Jimin remembers.

 

Yoongi turns and meets Jimin’s gaze. There’s a light swirling in his brown orbs, soft and gleaming, making Jimin look away and comment hastily, “Keep your eyes on what’s ahead, don’t lose your focus.”

 

Yoongi grumbles in response, “I am focused.”

 

Lia snorts and huffs, and Jimin chuckles inwardly. “Smart girl, can spot a lie even better than me. That’s the one thing I love about horses, how they can read your mind just by the way you ride.”

 

Yoongi hums in response and asks, “What do the horses’ names stand for?”

 

Jimin his head to the side. Yoongi adds, “Well, Lia and Buc are pretty casual names for such a regal household.”

 

Jimin pats his stallion thoughtfully and responds, “Buc is short for Bucephalus, father’s not-so-subtle nod to Alexander the Great. And Lia…” His voice turns fond, “My mother named her after Ophelia. Hamlet was one of her favourite plays, always a few copies of it in the house somewhere.”

 

“Pretty name.”

 

“Yes, mom always had a penchant for melancholic things.” Jimin stretches his neck and comments, “You know, when I was younger, my father said I was very much like her. A bit too sensitive for his liking, I suppose.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Does he still say the same now?”

 

Jimin sneers, “You’d have to ask him in court next time, we stopped talking about personal things a long time ago.”

 

The landscape surrounding them is vast and calm, the edge of the forest looming behind Yoongi, dwarfing his figure. He’s gotten more pale lately, the frame of his narrow shoulders disappearing under the riding coat. For a fleeting second, Jimin sees another figure on the same horse, frail and detached, looking into the distance. He blinks the image away and in a deep breath to rid of the dull ache in his heart.

 

“Let’s pick up speed, shall we?” He tightens his legs and pulls on the reins, feeling Buc responding with tensed muscles.

 

Riding has always been such a release. Jimin has learned to letting it all fall behind in the moment - the stress of the court life, father’s scrutinizing gaze, ghosts of the past that refuse to let go - all gone. He picks a goal in mind and lets his body carry out the silent communication, feeling the horse responding and their motions merging into one. At the fastest speed, riding is the closest thing to flying he’s ever experienced. As a kid, he used to glance towards the sun, pretending he’s leaping into its enveloping warmth along with Buc, wax wings melting and finally letting go.

 

Jimin pulls himself out of the reverie and turns to check on Yoongi, who is trailing behind determinedly, Lia’s pace is rhythmic and full of strength, as Yoongi’s torso hunches and leans into the horse.

 

Never the one to quit.

 

Jimin smiles at how he understand the stubborn need all too well himself.

 

Suddenly a strong gust of wind blows, making him shiver and tighten his hands on the reins. The clouds are shifting above them, and the sky darkens. Jimin frowns and thinks absently of how he should’ve urged Jin to dig up a thicker coat for Yoongi. His thoughts are cut short as Buc shifts in movement. A ravine is suddenly up ahead with tall shrubs and dark slippery gravels by the edge.

 

Confident in Buc’s familiarity of the terrain, Jimin relaxes and lets the horse build up speed during the approach, as they leap across the ravine and land on the other side with back hoofs splattering through the icy water.

 

A panicked whine from Lia behind him makes his breath hitch, as he swings around and spots Yoongi collapsed on the ground next to the mare. Jimin’s heart hammers against his chest, as he pushes the horse to cross back through the ravine.

 

“Are you alright?” The tinge of panic in his voice surprises himself, as he swings off his horse.

 

A muffled grumble. Jimin grabs onto Yoongi’s shoulders and helps him turn around, “Can you hear me?”

 

“I said I’m fine.” Yoongi’s left cheek is scraped up badly and covered in mud splatters, but he manages to murmur through gritted teeth.

 

Jimin curses inwardly - he should’ve known better, Lia is getting old and not ridden as often, he should’ve slowed down. He props Yoongi up and assesses his conditions, checking over his limps, “You’re able to sit up? You can move your arms? Legs, let’s see-“

 

The second he touches Yoongi’s left leg, a pained groan spills out of him. There’s no visible protrusion, but Yoongi’s face is pale with beads of sweat covering his forehead. Jimin knits his brows.

 

“Might be a broken leg, or it could be your knee…”

 

“Observant.” Yoongi hisses back.

 

Jimin traces his stiff jawline, and sighs, “So like you, snappy til the day you die.”

 

Slowly, Yoongi’s hardened gaze softens, and to Jimin’s surprise, a long exhales escapes him, as his shoulders droop, “We’ll see about that…” A hint of a self deprecating grin spreads by Yoongi’s lips, and Jimin feels the weight in his heart lifting in response.

 

A few icy raindrops tap on his cheek and surprise him. Jimin looks up at the muddled sky and notices it darkening as more drops begin to fall.

 

Great.

 

He scans the surrounding, taking note of the ravine and the edge of the forest to the southwest, as the slope of the land turns into dark rolling hills amidst the dense cluster of trees.

 

Jimin tilts his head and eyes Lia, words barely a whisper, “Did you know that we were near? Is that why you wanted to stop, not because of the ravine?”

 

“Is she ok?” Yoongi pipes up, and groans as he pushes his hand into the damp soil.

 

“I’ll check. But you -“ Jimin loops an arm under him to prop him up, “- you need to take it easy.”

 

Yoongi flinches as the rain starts to pour harder, “Great, what’s the plan now?”

 

“I think there’s a covered area close by, we can go and wait for a bit until the rain slows down. Then I’ll figure out a way to get back safely.”

 

Jimin ties Lia behind his own horse, and carefully supports Yoongi to stand up. Yoongi’s torso hangs stiffly next to his, pushing a comment out of Jimin, “We won’t make very far if you don’t hold onto me.”

 

A grunt, and he feels Yoongi’s arms tightening around his shoulders reluctantly, fingers grasping onto his coat. They stagger along slowly, stepping into the forest eventually as chilly wind gusts sweep up the heavy downpour. The canopies of the trees form a haphazard shelter, punctured by momentary breaks in the coverage. The dampness seeps into his bones, but he keeps going, feeling the radiant heat of Yoongi’s torso, as his hand grips onto Buc’s reins, guiding the horses deeper into the forest.

 

He corrects their course a few times, assessing the changes in slopes, lips curling into a lazy grin as he recognizes the few spots of markings with small piles of stones on the ground. Yoongi grimaces beside him, “You know, if you wanted to kill me and dispose of my body, you could’ve just done it back at the ravine.”

 

His breath hits Jimin’s skin faintly, and makes him snort, “I could’ve killed you at the chateau then, plenty of places I could think of to stash a body.”

 

Just then, the view in front of them opens up into a dim clearing. There’s a small cave, pushed against the rolling slope of the hill behind it, the wide opening dark and cavernous like a hollow mouth reaching out of the ground.

 

“We’ve made it.”

 

He sets Yoongi down on a raised slab of stone inside the cave, and leashes the horses to a nearby tree.

 

Yoongi’s breath is shallow and laboured, as he speaks again, “What is this place?”

 

Jimin responds, “Victoria and I found this cave when we were kids, our secret little hiding spots away from the adults.” His hands reach in to check on Lia’s legs one by one, feeling the tension in her muscles, watching her response.

 

Yoongi nods, and points at the mound of rocks in the recess of the cave with a small stone cross placed on top, “And that?”

 

Jimin keeps his hands busy and stays quiet. From the corner of his eye, he spots Yoongi pursing his lips awkwardly, head dipping down at the silence. Jimin blinks and relents, “I - we built that when I was ten, after my mother left us…”

 

“Oh.” There’s hesitation in Yoongi’s voice, but eventually he speaks again, the tone of his voice softening, “Sorry to hear that.”

 

“It’s fine, it was so long ago.” Lia’s skin feels bristled and warm under his hand. She seems to be ok, a bit spooked but has returned to her controlled demeanor. Jimin sighs out of relief and continues, “Father told us she was sick and passed away at the clinic in Paris. I kept objects around the house that belonged to her - rings, a scarf, her favourite hair brush - and buried them in a box here, the one place that only Victoria and I knew.”

 

Yoongi is quiet for a while. Jimin pats Lia gently, earning a huff out of her, and steps back.

 

“It must’ve felt nice, having a spot to remember her by.”

 

Jimin nods, “Yeah. Victoria stopped coming here after a while, but I really liked it, a place to visit when the house became too much to bear. Well, I did until I was 16 or so, when I realized that father had lied to us all along.”

 

Yoongi looks up at him, dark eyes boring into his.

 

Jimin lowers his head and thumbs at the blue ring on his finger, “Well, mother was always melancholic, too weak to get out of her room most days. They did send her to a clinic then, not in Paris but further north. And she didn’t pass away immediately, but lived another four years at the institute, alone and never had another chance to see us.”

 

It’s been so long since he’s talked about this, and Jimin can’t explain the sudden breach of words. Maybe it’s the strange sequence of events that have led them to this place, maybe some thoughts need to be aired out finally after staying private for so long, maybe…

 

“Is that why you were so determined to get lieutenant Namjoon out of Belhomme that night?”

 

Jimin frowns, and steps forwards the stone mound. He bends down and reaches for the carved cross, feeling the weathered surface under his pads.

 

“It’s not right to prey on the weak who are trapped in their own mind, or those rendered powerless by circumstance. We may all be doomed in this world, but I can’t just stand back and watch someone suffer like she might’ve all those years ago…” he stops himself abruptly, and turns to face Yoongi, “Forget it, I’m rambling. I - just forget what I said...”

 

Yoongi’s eyes glimmer in the dark, “You’re lucky to have a place to remember your mother by, not everyone has that.”

 

Yes, a place that’s yet to be tampered and destroyed by “progress”, Jimin thinks bitterly to himself but swallows the words.

 

He hesitates, the dry grass and fallen leaves rustling under his boots, but eventually, Jimin makes up his mind and sits down next to Yoongi. “Everyone deserves to have a spot to themselves, some are willing to die for it.”

 

A muted sneer. Yoongi is next to him, the sleeves of their coats almost touching, the despondency in his voice palpable, “You see, that’s the problem, most of us never had anything at birth. No rights, no dreams to lean onto, lucky just to survive.”

 

“Is that why you fight?”

 

Yoongi pipes up quietly besides him, “That’s what I used to think. It was all so nice and simple. Help the weak, fight for a new world, all that good stuff.”

 

“But now?”

 

Yoongi bends down to inspect his ankle, hand lingering on it absently, voice drifting, “Now I deal with the aftermath - the mess and the repercussions that nobody fully planned for. You are right, we destroyed lives as we forced our way through.”

 

Jimin gulps, suddenly at a loss for words.

 

What do you say, when your enemy suddenly confesses to their transgression, after obliterating your world and shattering it to pieces?

 

Yoongi murmurs, “There, what you always wanted. You are right, I’m the wrong fit for the task - uneducated, inexperienced, barely holding everything together…” his eyes are dimmed in the shadows, but his words are clear and absolute, gushing out breathlessly.

 

Jimin grimaces as his heart resonates to the words. He clenches his jaw and responds, “Stop being so foolish. Don’t even say these words again and jeopardize your safety-“

 

Yoongi shakes his head, “Just - just let me have this moment, please. I’m a nobody and you know it, you’ve seen through me since the first day we met. I was just a kid on the street two years ago... People rely on me, and I’ve failed them…”

 

Jimin feels exasperation simmering within, as words gush out, “And you think I’m any different? You think I know how to handle court politics and disputes on our land?” He listens to the pitter patter of the rain above them through the woven branches, and continues, “I’m better at pretending now, pretending I know what I’m doing, and that what others think of me don’t matter. But honestly, I just live day by day, and try not to let the craziness get to me. This world...all the deaths and pain… no, I can only protect a few, only the ones I love, for as long as I survive myself. But maybe that’s enough, I’ll leaving the world to heroes like you.”

 

He grins mockingly, but there’s no bite to it, the words feel hollow, devoid of strength. Yoongi’s head sinks lower, and Jimin feels a stir in the pit of his stomach as he adds, “I’ve read most of the enlightenment works over the years. It’s inevitable, progress, painful but sooner or later, it’s bound to happen. There’s no such thing as perpetual power, we are not gods after all, far from it.” He purses his lips before continuing, “I just wish it wasn’t right now, wasn’t so… sudden. I lost people that were very dear to me, when I didn’t have many to begin with…”

 

Blurry imagines of Taehyung lounging and giggling with feet dangling over the chaise flash across his mind. His heart aches as he shakes away the fleeting thoughts.

 

“Killing - was not the intent. Not my intent anyways…”

 

Jimin curbs the exasperation within, “It’s what it is. I hate to admit it, but I’m sure there were just as many casualties on your side. History is written by the winners, and we lost. I accept it, I accept the fate of losing it all and fading away, I just want to protect my sister and father, for as long as they wish to cling on.”

 

“Where will you go then after all this? If you do survive, and no longer needs to live for them, what would you do?” The voice beside him feels like an echo on his mind.

 

Jimin pauses before finally responding, “A fresh start maybe? Do people like me get a fresh start? Is it even possible? I’m not sure. But a small life, something simple in a place outside of all this. Who am I outside of my lineage? What’s meaningful when I am free to choose for myself?”

 

“That does sound nice.”

 

“What about you? Defend your dream ‘til the day you die?”

 

A sigh, “My fate is not up to me. The assembly is becoming murkier by the day, people forming fractions, pitting against each other... I’ve been skipping most of the discussions lately, people seem different nowadays, the mood in the room has changed - tense, and distrustful….”

 

“Of course, what else did you expect?” Jimin meets Yoongi’s gaze and scoffs, “Politics as usual. It always turns into a power play eventually, nothing I haven’t seen all my life. Fight for dominance under one name or another. You’ll get used to it, if you survive.”

 

The light in Yoongi’s eyes flicker and swirl. Jimin takes in his pale features, how his lips jute out a little definitely, the feline-like gaze, and the words blurt out before he can regret it, “Or maybe you were never cut out for this, not cut out to kill your comrades in the name of ideology, to climb over the people you’ve sworn to protect and fend for yourself. Maybe like you said, you’re at the wrong time and place, not having the heart to finish what you’ve started.”

 

Yoongi freezes at the words, but slowly, he narrows his eyes and hisses out a response, “How would you know? What do you know about me anyways?”

 

Jimin turns away. The sharpness of the response was well deserved, but stubbornly, he clings onto his thoughts. He wants to add that there’s no shame in not having the stomach to be cruel, that he didn’t mean to pierce through Yoongi’s thinly veiled composure and aim for what hurts the most, that he’s not even sure why they always end up hurting each other…

 

But maybe it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s alone in a war, winning or losing, everyone sheds their dignity and is reduced to moments of desperation. He in a breath of chilling winter air, and is once again made aware that they are together, however different, however hateful of each other, just the two of them in the desolate landscape filled with broken memories, depending on each other for survival.

 

Jimin eyes Yoongi’s ankle and pipes up, “How’s your leg?”

 

“I’ll live.” Yoongi scrowls. “The rain might not stop though, I hope you weren’t planning on staying here forever.”

 

“It’ll slow down soon.” Jimin peeks through the gaps between the branches absently, taking note of the lightening of the sky above.

 

His gaze zooms back onto Yoongi, the layer of sweat on his forehead making him frown. There are probably bruises under his shirt also, Jimin thinks and reaches out absently. His hand pauses on the soaked jacket, anticipating Yoongi to swat him away or curse, but nothing comes.

 

Yoongi is staring at the ground instead, head lowered and shoulders slouched. There’s a weariness to his posture, a final resignation. It feels almost too personal, making Jimin avert his gaze.

 

After a moment of hesitation, his hand lands on his shoulder. All the unspoken words rush up - the frustration, the loneliness, the fear and reminisce - they all bubble up yet cannot be uttered, channeling into the touch instead, turning into gentle circles on Yoongi’s back.

 

They sit together, sharing the moment of respite, in the dark forest dampened by raindrops and gloom.

 

——

 

It takes them another four hours to finally make it back slowly. Jin is waiting at the chateau when they arrive, letting out a relieved sigh and rushing in with warm tea and dry clothes.

 

Yoongi rests in bed, clearly in pain but not letting out a sound, back turned and face hidden away as a fever builds up. The servant is out to the nearby village to fetch for the doctor, but the wait exasperates Jimin, making his hands fidget and feet shuffle

around restlessly. Finally, he bolts up and strides down the dark hallway, ending up outside of Victoria’s room, who has accompanied them on the visit to Rambouillet.

 

The petite face that greets him at the door is serene as always. Her delicate hand pauses on the door as she pushes it shut behind them, “I heard the general had quite a fall.”

 

“Lia hasn’t been brought out as much as I expected, spooked easily.” He responds, scanning the room.

 

Wallpaper in muted sienna, simple tapestries by the window, her room hasn’t changed in years.

 

“She’s never been as tame as she appeared, you just have this blind faith in her.” She finds her way back to the chair by the table with the flickering lamplight and an open book, voice casual.

 

“Perhaps.” Jimin stands and pauses, chewing over the words carefully on his mind.

 

Victoria gestures for the other chair facing her, “You always get sentimental for things around you, no matter how hard you deny it.” She stares into his eyes, a thoughtful grin playing by her lips, “Took you long enough to talk to me.”

 

Jimin stiffens at the comment, but pushes out the words determinedly, “I didn’t want to talk at the palace, or even at Toulouse, somewhere a bit more private...”

 

A muted huff, “privacy… something we can no longer afford anywhere. You forget that even this chateau may become national property soon.”

 

“Yoongi assured me that father can keep the chateau.”

 

“How kind of him, we are much indebted.” The words are diplomatic as always, yet the glint of coldness in her gaze flickers.

 

Jimin thumbs at the ring on his finger, “it’s what we’ve always wanted - our assets safe, our position at the palace secured, a formidable ally within the assembly.”

 

Victoria turns quiet, and flips through the pages of the open book beside her, fingers casting shifting shadows on the pages.

 

“Or has that changed, sister? Do you have a different goal in mind?”

 

Victoria’s profile is serene as usual against the lamplight, hair pinned back, with loose blond curls fallen by her cheekbones. She responds lightly, “My goal has always been the same, to protect the family name. And what does it matter anyways, what my goal is, I’m just another unassuming girl trapped in the palace.”

 

Jimin arches his brow, “Unassuming? You have the ears of the Queen, and apparently also the frequent audience of general Hoseok. So please, Victoria, if you’re doing something that can jeopardize all of us, I hope we can talk through it, before it airs out publicly again in confiscated letters.”

 

Her head is turned towards the open book as she pauses and switches the subject, “You know, a week ago, I saw the Duke of Chartres at the garden of Palais Royal.”

 

“Philippe…” Memories flash across Jimin’s mind, of the young duke of the Orléans family speaking passionately of the revolution at the opera house.

 

“Yes, the same person that rejected father’s subtle hint of my marriage proposal last year. He approached me at the garden and praised me for supporting the spirit of the revolution, said he was ‘impressed that the daughter of a legitimized line could be so wisely progressive’.”

 

Jimin scowls, “It was ridiculous for father to approach him last year. Ignore Philippe, he’s a clown that irritates the traditionalists, nothing good will come out of his carelessness.”

 

“Well, as you know, father had his reasons. The Orléans and the Bourbon are two of the most powerful lineages in France, a union would strength both families.” Her jaw stiffens, And utters her words resolutely, “This whole thing, this war against all of the royals, will blow over one day, and I want our family name to be restored, all our assets returned to us. I want - I need to protect what’s rightfully ours, even if means warming up to people that I despise.”

 

Jimin’s head spins, and he retorts, “You’ve never - I don’t know where all these ideas came from - Victoria, you’re not making any sense. Which side are you on? And what is your plan, why are you plotting behind father and I? Stay out of all the politics, I’m keeping the three of us safe for now, that’s all we can hope for. We are lucky to be alive, to keep our homes-“

 

She cuts him off abruptly with a flutter of her hand, “I have no problem with what you’re doing. I have to admit, I’m a little shocked at how - yielding - you are to him, a commoner with blood of the royals on his hands, but maybe you are even better at this game than I anticipated. But I’m done gravelling at their feet, as they leer at me like I’m no more than a servant girl. They will crumble and fall, one way or another-“

 

Jimin grasps her arm tightly and turns her around, “No, you’re insane, this is absurd. The old regime is over, we’ve - we’ve lost -“ his brows are knitted, each word tinged with pain, “ - I can’t save anyone else, but I can try to protect you and father for the moment. Please, what you just said is ludicrous. Stop trying to play both sides, stop with whatever you’re planning with the royalists. Just stay in the palace and keep a low profile, leave the rest to me.”

 

The light in her eyes swirls, as her gaze glides over Jimin impassively. Finally, she lets out a long exhale, and comments, voice dangerously calm, “You and father, always treating me like a little girl, never taking me seriously.”

 

“Victoria.” Jimin’s voice begins to rise, hand gripping tighter on her arm, “I’m telling you to stop, this is not a game. Glory to the family name won’t save you when your neck is on the guillotine.”

 

Slowly, she peels his hand off her arm, and turns away. The words come out as a murmur, the lamplight flickering against her dark silhouette, “As you wish, Prince.”

 

He bites his lips, exasperated at the sudden distance between them. Here, in the heart of the faded mansion filled with childhood memories, Victoria still looks like the demure younger sister on his mind, yet for the first time, he notices the weariness in her stance and the faint creases on her forehead. As Jimin stumbles for a response, her voice pipes up again, like a ghostly echoing on his mind, “By the way, have you asked him about Taehyung?”

 

Jimin feels a shiver climbing up his skin, as the coldness in her voice seeps onto his mind and lingers.

 

“He was there that day, you know. The day Taehyung was dragged out and executed.”