As with most military officials, Hoseok’s office is next to Salle du Manège, inside a grand heritage building of weathered limestone bricks. The endless dim corridors are always filled with whispering politicians and stern soldiers dressed in full uniform.

Yoongi nods to the guards silently, and knocks on the heavy oak door before slipping in. 

The sun drenched chamber is easily double the size of all the other rooms Yoongi has seen in the building, with tall bookshelves lining both sides. At the center of the cavernous room, against the panels of long windows overlooking the street below, Hoseok is seated behind an oversized antique writing desk, gazing out with pinched brows. 

He turns around and gestures at the chair in front of the desk, “Rare of you to visit me here.”

Yoongi sits down and removes his triconed hat, “I didn’t realize you’ve moved office. Weren’t you downstairs before?”

A shrug, “Well, I asked around and the lieutenant general prefers to conduct business from his residence anyways. Seems like quite a waste, isn't it?” 

Yoongi purses his lips and swallows his words. Nothing happens out of coincidence, especially a show of power as obvious as this. Hoseok’s always been outspoken at the assembly, reveling in the spotlight as conflicts between internal fractions become more heated by the day. It’s no wonder that people begin to favor him more and more, trying to get on his good side in times of uncertainty. 

“Frankly, I think you should show up here more. Running an army isn’t all about cooping up at the barracks, you know. People need to see you, be reminded which side you’re on. I mean, I could definitely use some help reassuring everyone here, with the lieutenant general constantly at the palace himself…” Hoseok splates his hands over the desk, and comments. 

“You know this isn’t me.” Yoongi retorts, slumping his body against the chair, “I can’t sit here and fake a smile, while the troops are falling apart at the barracks. They need to be trained, equipped, and receive the right guidance they deserve, so they have a fighting chance.” 

A thoughtful grin curls up by Hoseok’s lips, “You don’t think political power is what protects the people that follow you? You think this is just all talk?” A wry chuckle, “I always figured you were better than the brute that they all took you to be, but it seems like you’ve accepted the stereotype…”

Yoongi narrows his eyes but doesn’t respond. They stay in silence for a moment, as sunlight filters into the room, and the shuffling footsteps and whispers in the hallway echo faintly in the background. How slowly the seconds tick by, as the moment suspends itself, each detail simple and ordinary, yet how Yoongi suddenly wills for it to last forever, for them to stay as friends like this, however apart. 

But eventually Hoseok looks into his eyes and breaks the silence, “Say it, Yoongi.”

Yoongi grimaces at the words and shifts in the seat.

Hoseok’s voice turns lower, unrelenting, “Say it. Ask me what you came to ask.”

Yoongi meets his gaze and rasps, “Save her.”

An iciness washes over Hoseok’s expression, “As expected, you came for them.”

Yoongi’s cheeks flush but he continues, “You control the Conciergerie prison guards, and went to school with the new chief of the city police, you’re the only one that can save her.”

“But why would I? Tell me, why would I save someone that lied to me for months, and may still drag my reputation through the mud along with her own?” There’s blazing fire in Hoseok’s eyes, as his hands push into the table. 

Yoongi responds, “Because you do care about her, no matter how hard you deny it. Let her go - sneak her out, bribe the guards, I’m sure there are ways. We’ve killed enough, you don’t need the blood of yet another on your hands.”

“I didn’t do this to her, she brought it all into herself! Imagine if they actually succeeded, by now the king would’ve made his announcement within the fortress of Normandy, backed by the emigre army of Conde. Your troops will finally get the war they’ve been dreading.”

“But they didn’t succeed. You’re still the winner here. Look, I’m not asking you to protect her. Just spare her the guillotine, get her outside of these city walls, the rest is up to fate-”

Hoseok laughs, a harsh sound pushed out of the back of his throat, “If it’s so easy, then you wouldn’t even be asking me. The whole city knows what has happened by now. The citizens feel betrayed by the royal family, and the assembly is all too eager to solidify message. This will probably be the most attended execution of the year. Serves them right, a bunch of aristo scums that schemed right under my eyes…” He in a sharp inhale, and lets the words trail off, eyes boring straight through Yoongi and beyond. 

Then slowly, Hoseok breaths out a stuttered sigh, and adds, “I knew you’d be here, even though I kept hoping I was wrong. Is this for the damn alliance, Yoon, or for something else? Are you going to try to save all of them, hmm? What about yourself? Who will save you when the assembly accuses you of being a sympathizer of the treasoners?” 

Yoongi hesitates, but fragments of the moment flashes across his mind, of tear soaked shirt and dark eyes filled with despair. He straightens his back, and pushes the words out dodgedly, “I’m asking this as a favor, and you know I’ve never asked you for anything. Please save her, and I’ll do your biddings as you wish, whatever fraction you side with.”

Hoseok’s gaze slides across Yoongi, the sun framing his darkened silhouette with a radiant outline. The glint in his eyes dims, as he turns away and responds, “I wish you didn’t say that. I wish you didn’t reduce our friendship to some absurd negotiation. I thought we were always on the same side, when did we grow apart... “

Yoongi frowns, the words piercing through his heart more than he’d like to admit, “I’d never turn on our friendship, that’s not what I meant-”

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure which side you’re still on?” Hoseok’s voice turns into a low hiss, “Let me guess, you grew a heart overnight and got soft, too soft for this whole mess. A general that can’t bear the thought of killing, wow, if that’s not a sure way to get yourself killed.” He inches closer and comments slowly, “Maybe all this power and prestige is getting to you after all, you think you’re one of them now, got the luxury to pick your fate. You talk of blood on our hands, let me remind you, that blood will always be on our hands, you don’t get to change your mind and wash away all the sins you’ve committed. No, remember your role and stick to it.”

Yoongi knows he should stay quiet, but stubbornly, words tumble our, before he can regret them, “But all this, all the bloodshed, all the power struggle, this is not what we signed up for.”

Hoseok growls and turns away, “Stop. I’m not having this conversation with you again. It’s all in the name of the cause, and if you cannot see that, if you no longer believe in it, then frankly, you are a threat to the revolution just like the royals you’re trying to protect.” He narrows his eyes, and utters the words slowly, “I’ll ask you one last time: ditch them and come back to me. Yoongi, come back to where you belong.”

Yoongi looks down, and thumbs at the cockade on the tricorned hat in his hand - the blue, white and red vibrant against the dark navy. Words dangle over his tongue, as they have done a hundred times before; but he finds his heart inexplicably drifting this time, away from the stuffy hallways, away from the schemes and manipulation, the orders and rigor, back to the palace that no longer belongs to any of them, to the room with the warm ember and the painting with the dark lush forest. 

He dips his head lower, and stays silent.

Hoseok sighs and murmurs, “Then I think we are done, general Yoongi. Please see yourself out.” 

As Yoongi pulls himself out of the chair slowly, and heads out of the room, Hoseok’s voice continues behind him, “You wasted our friendship on this one favor, I pray you know what you’re doing. Next time, when we face each other on opposite ends, there will be no favor left to call upon, none whatsoever.”

⚜️

The alleyway behind the Conciergerie prison is narrow and gravelled. Amongst the shadows of the walls and buildings looming on both sides, darkness descends, as another day slips by and the crowds on the street dissipate a few hours past dinner. 

Jimin’s eyes adjust and scan around, as he strides slowly towards the carriage stopped deep in the alley. He thinks absently of Yoongi’s figure behind him on the street, a silent sentinel guarding the somberness of the moment.

The carriage is small and covered in black canvas, with wooden frames and two soldiers sitting up on the chauffeur’s bench. They turn to face him wordlessly as he approaches, and scoff at the gleaming gold Louis coins in his extended hand. One of them snatches them nonetheless and taps on the back wall roughly. 

Jimin gulps and steps towards the window, fists tightening under his coat. The stained curtain opens, and the blanched face that appears clenches his heart.

Victoria’s eyes shift uncertainly between him and the soldier seated behind her in the carriage. Her lips part and tremble, and Jimin suddenly wishes to pull open the door and rip her out of there, run far far away from all this, to a place where the world is still as it was, calm and orderly and in control. 

He blinks hard and chokes back the emotions surging up, one hand reaching in absently towards the drops of mud splatters on her face, but stops mid air. 

Victoria’s eyes flicker and dim, as she averts her gaze, “I suppose I should thank you. Nobody else was pulled from the execution, everyone told me it was a miracle.” 

Jimin frowns and retorts sternly, “Good, at least you understand how difficult it was. I didn’t think he’d be able to do it. You were suppose to die this afternoon, Victoria, I hope you remember this for forever, how close you came to death because of sheer stupidity.” 

She hums, eyes fixed on the inside cabin, expressions impassive. Jimin clenches his jaws and inches towards the window, “You have put everyone in danger, the assembly will never look at the Bourbons kindly again after this. And now you are being sent to the asylum in Amiens, for mental incapacity. I - “ he in a sharp inhale and stiffens his back, “- I don’t know what lies ahead for you, whether it will be worse than death, but what I do know is that I won’t be able to protect you anymore, nobody can-“

“See, that’s been your problem all along. You and father always thought I needed to be protected - sheltered and displayed like some art piece you possess…” she huffs, and wipes the sweat soaked strands of hair away from her cheek, “But have you ever stopped to ask me, if that’s what I wanted?” She suddenly turns towards him, eyes peering into his, gaze unflinching. 

Jimin digs his heels into the gravel and looks towards soldier behind her, but just as his words are about to gush out, Victoria raises her hand and cuts him off, “Please don’t. I know what you want to say, that my plan is juvenile, that it would’ve never worked. Of course, you’ve never thought of me as a worthy ally, you’d rather place your trust in all the wrong people. “ she looks through him and towards Yoongi’s silhouette standing at the end of the alley. 

“I don’t think you are in the position to criticize those who have just saved you.” Jimin speaks through gritted teeth. 

Victoria’s eyes slide across his profile, and the iciness in her glance pierces straight through, making his heart unbearably heavy. She speaks again after a pause, “You know, in a way, we were never taught to agree on most things in life. You were always mother’s favourite, the flawless little prince chosen by divinity, and I was always meant to live in your shadow.”

Jimin shakes his head but Victoria continues, “No, it’s ok, it’s all in the past - our titles, our predestined fate. The future may be worse than death, but I’ll be alone now, depending on nobody else but myself.” A soft smile curls up by the corner of her lips, “There's a rumour that some of the Orleans will be gathering up in the north. If I survive this - if I survive, well - “ her eyes meet his, and there are small flickering flames in those dark blue orbs, “- I’ll make sure our family name lives on for eternity, long after the revolution has come and go.”

Jimin sighs, “Just focus on survival. The name is nothing but a relic now, like the rest of us. Victoria, all I wish for - all I want now is for you and father to be safe, even as our paths become apart…” he finally chokes up on the words and stutters, blinking away the mist rising in his eyes. 

A delicate hand extends out from the carriage window, and grazes by his hair with featherlight touch before retracting. It stirs up hazy memories of the past, of another demure figure bidding farewell, or did he dream it up, Jimin is unsure. Victoria’s heavy sigh lingers in the air like tendrils of smoke that refuse to dissipate into the night, “They all thought you were the strong one, and you sure put up a good front for it your whole life. But you’ve always been more like mother, weakened by all the emotions, never meant for greatness.” 

Jimin purses his lips, “I’ve never cared for greatness.” 

She chuckles, “Of course. Well, I know you are smart enough to get out of this hellhole alive, so, whatever it is you are looking for in life, brother, I hope you find it eventually. This is farewell then.” Her voice is nonchalant, but her lips tremble slightly, gaze averted. 

Suddenly, the soldier behind Victoria murmurs and taps on the compartment wall, and the horses neigh and stomp their feet. The chauffeurs holler, but the words slip by Jimin unregistered. His mind is stuck on the petite figure inside, ripping away from his vision as the carriage starts to move down the alley. Something is stolen from him again, something precious and encapsulating all of his life, before he’s ever ready. 

He curbs the urge to chase after the carriage, and trails it with his gaze. Victoria’s face appears out of the window, lips pursed into a tiny smile, eyes searching for him. The carriage turns at the end of the alley and disappears.

Jimin stands immobiled, for what feels like forever, letting the silence of the world envelope himself, willing for time to stop so he can have a moment to calm his ragged breath. 

A sudden weariness washes over him, making his legs weak and heart heavy. He stumbles and feels a warm hand supporting him by his arm, gently but unmistakably there. 

He rubs on his eyes, trying to rid of the tears, as the voice next to him pipes up, “We should head back, it’s best nobody spots you here.”

Exasperation fumes within him, pushing bitter words out of him, “What does it matter, how much more could they possibly hurt me.” 

Yoongi’s profile is hidden under an unassuming grey cape, but his voice is authoritative as always, “It’s not over yet, you still have hope, you will get out of this.” 

Jimin snaps around to face him, “Will I? And what would I do when I escape all this? Everything I’ve ever known is gone, destroyed, ripped away from me. How would you of all people know there’s hope out there?”

“Taehyung may still be alive somewhere. I know you’d want to find him. And I know you will survive-“ Yoongi stares into his eyes, the hand by his arm unfaltered, “- because I made a promise to protect you, and I intend on fulfilling my promise.” 

“And what about yourself, hmm?” Jimin comments, “Are you as hopeful of your own future? Will you give yourself the same chance for survival?” 

Yoongi looks away. The silence irritates Jimin, making him continue, “No, you’d rather stay and die by the hand of your comrades, just to ease your conscience.” He grabs onto the hand by his arm, “And where would that take you? How long do you think you will survive?”

The hand slips away, “That’s not your concern.”

“Of course not. You are free to sacrifice yourself to a cause you no longer believe in, i can’t stop you.”

Yoongi furrows his brows, but Jimin continues, all the words finally gushing out, as if afraid this is the last time they will be heard, “Yes, I’ve said it because you’ve always been too afraid to admit it. You’ve never been the one to kill in the name of the cause, just like how I’ve never been happy living under the control of others. We were both stuck in our fate, because of all the people that depended on us. Well, this is the end, and I’m sick of giving into my fate.” He turns Yoongi by the shoulder, “I demand you keep your promise, and see to it personally that I’m safe. You can’t leave so easily, not like everyone else, not without my permission.” 

Yoongi sighs, small white puffs of air escaping his parted lips and dissipating in the space between them, like all the unspoken thoughts they keep secret from each other. He brushes Jimin’s hands away and turns to leave, “Strong words, prince, for someone whose life is hanging by a thread.” 

Yoongi’s silhouette blends into the endless fragments of broken shadows in the alleyway, receding with each step. There’s something inexplicably lonely in the air, swallowing up Jimin’s exasperation whole, turning it into powerlessness that tendrils up his limbs like an invisible web, immobilizing him. Yoongi’s voice, hoarse and muted, echoes on Jimin’s mind, “Soon, we will find out what each our fate is, defiant or not.”