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The palace, once shrouded in an eerie silence, was now drowning in the mournful wails of a broken angel. The grand chamber, built of thick stone and gilded with the echoes of history, carried the lament of Kim Jimin—his sorrow weaving through the very walls like a requiem for the lost.

Sleepless maids stirred, their hearts aching for the caged soul who wept within these confines. Even among the royals, unrest simmered. The majestic Queen Kim Seokjin turned restlessly in his bed, discomfort gnawing at him—not because his chambers were lacking in luxury, but because something in Jimin's cries unsettled him. Whether it was mere humanity or something deeper, he refused to acknowledge. He did not wish to hear Jimin's sorrow, yet it seeped through every barrier, forcing its way into his consciousness.

"So much pretense," Seokjin muttered under his breath, sitting up with a sigh. "Acting innocent, acting loyal... How pitiful."

His gaze shifted to his husband, King Kim Namjoon, who lay in undisturbed slumber—a picture of deceptive peace. How different he looked from the ruthless ruler he had become. Seokjin's lips curled slightly, reminiscing about the young prince who had once sought his hand in marriage, a man who had not yet been consumed by power.

Shaking off the memories, he rose and strode toward Jimin's chamber. With each step, the cries grew louder, rawer. His brows knitted in frustration. Was there no end to this grief?

Without a second thought, he slammed the door open.

Jimin flinched violently at the sudden intrusion, his delicate fingers hastily wiping at the tears that traced silver paths down his cheeks. The fine fabric of his attire—still the same from earlier—soaked up his sorrow, though it failed to conceal it.

"H-hyung—"

"Enough, Jimin," Seokjin's voice was cold, his sharp eyes scanning the room. "Stop crying like this."

Jimin's grip on his dress tightened. "I w-want him back so b-badly, hyung—"

His voice cracked, breaking under the weight of his grief. It was not the weeping of a fragile soul, but of a heart that had loved too deeply, a devotion so profound it defied the cruelty of fate itself.

He could still hear Taehyung's voice in his mind, teasing him with playful arrogance. "Rely on no one but me, my love. Give me your all, and I shall be the only star that lights your path. The rest are merely passing shadows, their loyalty bound to the whims of fortune."

Jimin had laughed then, calling him ridiculous, accusing him of craving attention. But now, in the suffocating darkness left behind, Jimin understood.

His world had lost its only true light.

And now, no one—not even his own brother-in-law—would listen to the truth buried within his shattered heart.

It had been a week since Jimin had been confined within the palace of Elino, a gilded cage wrapped in cold stone. The corridors whispered with hushed voices, for many within these walls secretly sympathized with the forsaken consort. The maids who tended to him did so with quiet reverence, and even the king's second consort, Kim Jeongguk, regarded him with subtle defiance against their ruler. But Kim Seokjin—he remained unmoved.

Seokjin had never believed in Jimin's love for Taehyung. To him, Jimin was nothing but a temptress draped in silken sorrow, a deceiver who had ensnared his brother for his own gain. He had called Jimin names unfit to be uttered within the halls of nobility, shaming him with accusations of lust and ambition. The mere suggestion that he desired Namjoon for power was an insult that crushed Jimin's very soul, leaving him gasping for breath in his own grief.

Had the gods been merciful, they would have let him perish alongside Taehyung. To take his last breath in the arms of the man who was his entire world—would that not have been the kinder fate?

"Oh, my, my, Jimin! It is a blessing that my brother is freed from your clutches. And because of you, freed from this wretched world as well." Seokjin's voice was sharp, his tone laced with a venom that he tried desperately to mask. But Jimin, even through his anguish, could see the cracks in his resolve.

"H-hyung, w-why are you being like this? Please... don't d-do this to me." Jimin's voice trembled as he fell to his knees, his delicate fingers grasping at the folds of Seokjin's royal robes, his face buried against the elder's legs in a final, desperate plea.

"I am not asking y-you to love me as before, b-but at least do not h-hate me so. At least try to see t-through my side." Tears clung to his lashes, glistening like shattered pearls in the dim candlelight.

Seokjin's body stiffened at the touch. He willed himself to remain composed, to resist the guilt curling in his chest.

Jimin's voice was barely above a whisper, raw and fractured. "Hyung, I d-don't want to marry your h-husband. Not even a single p-percent. I am being forced to remain here. I c-could never, never look at any other man who isn't your brother. I love Taehyung, hyung. I always will." He clutched Seokjin's hand, desperate to make him understand, to make him believe.

Seokjin's cold stare did not waver. When he finally spoke, his words were as precise and lethal as the blade of a royal dagger.

"Firstly, I believe my husband. He would never be swayed if you had not tried to beguile him. Secondly," he exhaled sharply, as if weary of even entertaining such pleas, "I never liked you, not from the moment my brother first introduced you to me. I warned him against you, Park Jimin. I told him to rid himself of the venomous trap that you are. But, of course, he did not listen."

Jimin froze. The words struck deep, slicing through the remnants of his already broken heart. He had always battled insecurities, wondering if he was truly deserving of Taehyung's love. Was he enough? Could he ever be? Taehyung had always reassured him, drowning him in warmth and whispered promises that he was not only enough but the very best.

But now... there was no one left to assure him. No voice to chase away the shadows. Seokjin knew this. He knew that stripping Jimin of his worth would destroy him far more effectively than any chains could. If he could make Jimin feel unworthy, he would waste away, skipping meals, fading into nothingness like a forgotten relic.

And that was precisely what Seokjin wanted.

"Y-you never liked me right? You pretended to like m-me in front of your brother b-but  in actual , I l-lost in winning your trust. I know you will never trust me hyung, never.  B-but ,  you'll regret it one day and when you'll want to repent f-for your mistakes m-maybe I won't be there t-to listen to you. But one thing I want t-to say, I love Taehyung and w-would always do-" Jimin cried out painfully as he got up from Seokjin's feet.

Seokjin stood frozen, his mind clouded with questions he dared not voice. He despised Jimin, did he not? He placed his unwavering trust in Namjoon—then why did his heart constrict at the mere thought of Jimin ceasing to exist? Should he grant the younger a moment to speak? But how could he defy Namjoon for the sake of Jimin? Namjoon was his husband. Jimin was merely his brother's widow.

Yes—his brother's widow.

Perhaps that was why his heart wavered. If Taehyung's spirit watched over them from the heavens, he must be mourning the torment Jimin endured. Seokjin had accepted Jimin into their family only to honor his brother's wish. He had sworn to protect Jimin, to ensure his well-being. And he could not break the promise he had made to his beloved brother, the one who now resided among the stars. He refused to disappoint him.

FLASHBACK

The grand hall of the Silian palace was bathed in golden candlelight, casting long shadows upon the ornate marble floors. Seated upon an intricately carved throne, the Queen of Silia regarded her youngest son with a gaze of quiet disapproval. Seokjin stood beside her, arms crossed over his embroidered silk robes, nodding in solemn agreement with her words.

"Taehyung, he is but the son of a mere minister. He holds no royal blood, no title befitting a future consort of Silia," the Queen spoke with firm finality. "It is best that you forget this folly before it is too late."

Seokjin sighed and turned toward his younger brother. "Mother is right. You must consider the consequences, Taehyung. A person of his standing—"

Taehyung grasped Seokjin's hand, his grip resolute yet imploring. "Jimin is not a fleeting infatuation I can simply forget. Hyung, you know better than anyone how deeply I love him." His voice trembled with conviction. "Did you not marry Namjoon out of love? Why is my love any less worthy?"

The Queen's expression remained unmoved. "Namjoon is a royal. Jimin is not." She exhaled, her patience waning. "You are blinded by affection, my son. People like Jimin seek wealth and power. If not you, he will find another—"

A sharp crash interrupted her words. A vase, once perched upon the polished table, lay shattered at Seokjin's feet, shards glistening like tiny daggers. Taehyung's chest heaved, his knuckles white from the force of his throw.

"I will not tolerate a single word against Jimin," Taehyung's voice was laced with fury. His dark eyes burned like a raging storm, his jaw clenched, veins taut against his skin. "If anyone dares to question his intentions, I will not hesitate to draw my sword—even if it be against my own kin."

Seokjin's hands curled into fists at his sides, stunned by his brother's outburst. The Queen, however, remained composed. She cast a glance at Seokjin, signaling him to let the matter rest.

"See?" she murmured. "He has already become that man's puppet. If Jimin is so pure-hearted, tell me, can he bear the weight of a queen's crown? Can he rule by your side without succumbing to greed?"

Taehyung inhaled deeply, reigning in his fury before speaking. "Mother, Jimin is selfless. His family has served our kingdom for generations, laying down their lives for Silia. He himself is a warrior—he protects the weak, aids the poor, and seeks nothing but love in return. Money, status—these mean nothing to him." His voice softened as he turned back to Seokjin. "Hyung, I do not ask for your love, only your respect. Do not let him feel like a stranger in our family. Accept him—for my happiness, if nothing else."

A heavy silence stretched between them. Finally, the Queen sighed, rising from her seat. "Very well." She placed a gentle hand on Taehyung's cheek. "I shall speak to your father. He will personally visit the minister's household to request Jimin's hand in marriage."

Seokjin exhaled, glancing at his brother's hopeful face before giving a small, reluctant smile. "I agree—only for you, Taehyung. But heed my words," he warned, his tone low and foreboding. "If he dares bring you even a moment of sorrow, I will ensure he regrets ever setting foot in this palace."

Taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. "He won't. He loves me."

Seokjin merely hummed in response, watching as his brother walked away, carrying the weight of a love that defied the world.

"I am agreeing only for your happiness, Taehyung," Seokjin finally relented, his voice carrying the weight of both duty and affection. His fingers, adorned with the rings of his royal lineage, traced over Taehyung's cheek in a rare display of tenderness. "But mark my words—if he ever dares to bring you even a moment of sorrow, if he so much as makes your heart ache, I will ensure he regrets it for the rest of his days."

Taehyung let out a breathy chuckle, but his usually mischievous eyes held an intensity that Seokjin could not ignore. "That day will never come, hyung," he reassured, though his tone carried a gravity unusual for him. "But... if ever a misunderstanding arises between me and Jimin, promise me you will stand by his side. He has no one else in this world who could truly protect him. He needs a brotherly figure, someone who will shield him, someone who will listen to him when I am not there." Taehyung's voice softened, but the plea within it was unmistakable. "I ask this of you because I trust you, hyung. No one else."

Seokjin exhaled sharply, his fingers curling for a moment before relaxing. There was no mistaking the devotion in Taehyung's voice, the way his very soul seemed bound to this one person. It was rare—such love, such blind, unshaken loyalty. Seokjin had always thought love should be measured, calculated, something to be earned through trials and worth. But Taehyung gave it freely, with a heart as vast as the seas.

With a sigh, Seokjin nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fine. I promise, Taehyung. No matter what happens, I will take care of Jimin."

The tension in Taehyung's shoulders visibly melted, replaced by an ease that spoke volumes of his trust in Seokjin. A bright, boyish smile bloomed across his face, reminiscent of the younger brother Seokjin had once held in his arms when he was just a child. "Good. Now go—your beloved husband must be waiting for you," he teased, his playful nature slipping back into place like a comfortable cloak.

Seokjin scoffed, rolling his eyes, though his lips twitched in amusement. "You are utterly insufferable," he muttered, though there was not a trace of true irritation in his tone.

"And yet, you love me," Taehyung shot back without missing a beat.

Seokjin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as if exhausted by his brother's antics. But when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, sincere. "That, I do."

A moment passed, warm and familiar, before Taehyung leaned in, wrapping his arms around Seokjin in a tight embrace. For a man destined to be king, there was still something heartbreakingly childlike in the way he clung to his brother.

As Seokjin pulled away, Taehyung whispered, "Protect him."

Seokjin held his gaze, unwavering. "I will."

And that, he would never break.

flashback ended

'

Seokjin exhaled slowly, his every step echoing through the grand chamber, measured and deliberate. The polished marble beneath his feet bore the weight of countless kings before him, yet tonight, it felt heavier than ever. The flickering golden light from the chandeliers above cast wavering shadows upon the high-vaulted ceiling, their silent dance reflecting the turmoil within his heart.

Draped in robes of deep crimson and embroidered gold, Seokjin carried himself with the poised regality of a prince, yet his hesitant approach betrayed an emotion he seldom allowed himself to display—uncertainty. Duty and loyalty warred within him, each demanding their due, but neither easing the burden that pressed upon his chest.

"J-Jimin—" Seokjin's voice, usually composed and commanding, wavered ever so slightly—a rare and telling falter.

Jimin did not acknowledge him, nor did he turn. His delicate frame remained still, poised at the edge of the grand balcony where a sheer curtain billowed gently against the night breeze. The silver glow of the moon bathed him in an ethereal light, illuminating the silent tears that traced sorrowful paths down his porcelain cheeks. He looked less like the noble consort he once was and more like a specter—bound by grief, lingering in a world that had long since turned its back on him.

Seokjin swallowed, his throat dry despite the chilled air. He tried again, his voice softer this time, as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness between them.

"Jimin, are you... are you well?" The words felt insufficient, feeble against the weight of the sorrow that clung to the very air. He was never one for empty comforts, never one to mend what had already shattered. "I mean... are you—are you fine here? Do you require anything?"

At last, Jimin moved, but it was not in acknowledgment. His slender fingers tightened ever so slightly against the polished stone railing, his knuckles turning pale from the pressure. When he finally spoke, his voice was fragile yet unwavering, carrying the soft tremor of someone who had long since abandoned hope of being heard.

"I need you to believe me," Jimin murmured, his breath escaping in a whisper that the night itself seemed to cradle. He turned then, his gaze meeting Seokjin's with quiet desperation. The moonlight cast shadows beneath his tired eyes, hollowed from sleepless nights. "To trust that I am as much against this wedding as you are. Will you, hyung?"

Seokjin stilled, his breath catching as he truly looked at Jimin—for the first time in a month, he saw him.

This was not the same Jimin who once floated through the palace halls, draped in silks as vibrant as the sunrise, his laughter ringing like a melody that softened even the sternest of hearts. This was not the same Jimin whose mere presence could breathe life into the coldest of chambers, whose touch had been the only warmth Taehyung had ever sought.

Now, he was a shadow of that man, wrapped in muted hues of grief, his once-vivid world drained to nothing but a bleak palette of sorrow. The delicate embroidery on his robes—once a symbol of his royal stature—now looked almost burdensome, as if the weight of expectation threatened to suffocate him. Even the jewelry that once adorned him with effortless grace seemed out of place, dulled by the lifelessness in his eyes. He was a prince in title but a broken man in truth, a soul stripped of its luster.

Seokjin inhaled deeply, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. He did not wish to feel pity—it was not his place to grieve for what had been lost. And yet...

"We will speak tomorrow," he finally said, his voice quieter than intended but firm nonetheless. "I will grant you the opportunity to tell your side."

For a fleeting second, a faint glimmer of something—hope, perhaps—flashed in Jimin's dull gaze. But before it could settle, Seokjin turned away, his silk robes trailing behind him, his heavy boots pressing into the thickly woven carpet with resolute finality.

Yet as he reached the threshold, something urged him to stop. Some unspoken force pulled him back, demanding one last glance.

He turned, and what he saw made something in his chest twist painfully.

Jimin's frail body had crumpled onto the bed, the silken sheets pooling around him as though they sought to cradle what little remained of him. His form, once elegant even in its stillness, now looked fragile beyond measure. He was not resting—he was collapsing, as though even the burden of sitting upright had become too much to bear.

"Jimin."

The quiet utterance of his name stirred the younger, who turned his head just enough to meet Seokjin's gaze. Even in the dim candlelight, he looked drained—so exhausted that standing seemed beyond him. It was as if the very air had turned against him, pressing upon his weary bones, forcing him downward.

"D-do not neglect your meals," Seokjin finally said, though the words felt utterly inadequate in the face of Jimin's suffering. "And do not cry so much." He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully, then exhaled. "I know what you will say—that you miss my brother. But tell me, Jimin... do you think your tears will bring him peace?"

Jimin's lips parted, but no sound followed.

"Taehyung would be devastated to see you like this," Seokjin continued, his tone carrying the weight of something unspoken. "Do not let your grief chain you to the past. Be strong for him, Jimin." A pause. "If you seek my support, you will not find it—I cannot betray my husband, no matter what truths may exist." His fingers curled at his sides, his jaw tightening. "But if you are certain of your love for Taehyung, then do not wallow in sorrow. Stand firm. Endure. Prove it."

With that, Seokjin turned sharply, his regal posture unyielding as he strode away, his parting words settling like a heavy decree between them. The lingering scent of myrrh and aged parchment from his robes was the only trace he left behind.

Jimin remained unmoving for a long while, his fingers instinctively reaching for the delicate chain around his neck. His wedding ring, gleaming softly in the flickering light, felt cool against his trembling fingertips. He brought it to his lips, his breath warming the metal, but no warmth could reach the aching void within him.

His home was gone. His sanctuary no longer existed.

If he wished to survive, he would have to carve his own path through the storm.

And he would.

"I will fight until my last breath for our love," Jimin whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, yet carrying the weight of an unshakable vow. Slowly, he unclasped the chain, the small ring slipping free. With quiet reverence, he slid it onto his finger, where it had once rested with Taehyung's promise wrapped around it.

His grip tightened over the ring, anchoring himself to the past even as he steeled himself for the future.

The fire within him had dimmed, but it had not died. And no matter how much the world conspired against him, he would not let it.

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That's it for today's update.

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(Date of finishing- 12'th October)
Date of posting- 4'th November

Words count - 2248

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~ 𝕾 𝖍 𝖗 𝖊 𝖞 𝖆