The darkness that scarfs up the remains of daylight is deep and foreboding, and it leaves a hollow feeling in Ten’s chest. It’s weird how humans instinctively yearn for things that they neglect only when they’ve been taken away from them. The faint silhouette of the Aere Perennius is what Ten wakes up to every morning, its form proud and stalking outside the silk curtains of his chamber when the sun hits the surface of the sea. The vessel’s outline pencils across the face of the waters, shadow tips hitting the dock by the pier as it moves along to tail the sun.

“More lasting than bronze,” the King said when Ten was still eight and had little to no grasp of Latin. He wanted to know what the name of the ship meant.

“You mean a lifetime?” Ten imposed.

“Thousands.”

It’s funny how now that the King had taken leave to help alleviate the situations at the Jung Empire, the sea looks barren without their kingdom’s most reliable and regal ship. Or perhaps it’s not the ship that has dragged away some of Siam’s light. Maybe the King has always held a great portion of Siam’s radiance in him and he has always served as their perpetual guide. Without him to walk them past the Grand Palace walls, the city now looks darker and more vulnerable in the night.

“How long will you be gone, My King?” Ten asked, the sea breeze tickling his ears at 4 past noon that day.

“I’ll be back as soon I can.” The weight of the King’s hands on Ten’s shoulders felt overbearing, a combination of trust and dependence surging out of the older man’s body and finding refuge on Ten’s  limbs.

Ten nodded softly, bowing before the King.

“About your fiance—”

“I haven’t found one yet, My King,” Ten knew it was rude to intercept, but he wanted his father to know. “But you gave me a month. I intend to keep my word. I will find someone to marry within that timeframe.”

The King’s smile looked both hopeful and tired, his fingers digging into the softness of Ten’s skin. “Marry the person that your heart wants, Ten. I know you care about Siam, but the city loves you just as much as you do them. It is important that you heed what your heart desires. It’s the only thing that will make you whole, the only truth that will guide you to become a better King.”

Ten’s heart seemed to roll along with the waves overlapping the shore. “We need to build a steady alliance with other noble networks.”

“I know what I said, and I still stand by that.” The King’s eyes are determined, deepened by the wrinkles at the tips. “But I want you to know that whoever you choose, I trust that you will find a way to make it all work.”

Ten nodded, wrapping his arms around his father’s bigger form. “Stay safe, My King.”

“Your Uncle Arthit and Lord Somchai will help you while I’m away. Lord Punyaa will sail with me to the southern lands. Be strong, Ten. Siam needs a King while I’m away.”

“I will, My King. I promise.”

The King’s fingers graced the tip of Ten’s jaw as he looked at him one last time before walking towards the plank. Ten stood there, watching men tighten the shrouds and unravel the sails while the keel drowned in the waters. The Aere Perennius was like a glorious ship from afar, its bronze finish sparkling under the glaze of the setting sun, but why did Ten feel like half of him sailed away with it?

“Ten.”

It only takes a single syllable from Taeyong’s mouth to bring Ten back to the present. He’s still looking outside his window, the wrinkles of the curtains twirled around his fingers. He turns around slowly, a tired smile resting on his lips. “Hey.”

“Dinner’s ready.”

Ten winces, rubbing a palm on his elbow. “I’m not really that hungry.”

“If I have to feed you with my own hands, Ten, I will.” It sounds like an empty threat.

The laugh that comes out of Ten’s mouth sounds resigned. “I’m tired, Taeyong. I promise I’ll eat more in the morning.”

“You have a meeting with the council at 8 in the morning. I doubt you’ll have any appetite by then too.”

Ten knows that Taeyong’s right. The mun nai knows Ten too well now that it makes him feel both comfortable and uncomfortable just being near him.

“Fine,” Ten says a few minutes later. “But can I at least eat in my room instead of dining at that 26-seater table alone upstairs? It feels weird to eat there on my own.”

“I can ask a couple of phrais to bring your food here. Not unless…” Taeyong stops, eyes skimming through the curvy patterns in the bedroom ceiling.

“What?”

“Not unless you want to eat somewhere else.”

It is well past 10 in the evening and Ten’s already late for dinner as it is. Everything’s dead in the city at this hour, except for some places near the outskirts by the seashore or the heart of the main villages, both of which the Prince – more so the King – is not advised to roam around in at such an ungodly hour.

“Well?” Taeyong’s still standing there, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet.

“Your proposal sounds interesting. Tell me more.” Ten’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the tip of Taeyong’s mouth quirk up to brandish that signature smirk.

“Follow me,” Taeyong whispers, and Ten doesn’t really have to say yes. Taeyong’s hand has already found his in the faint candlelight glossing over the quaint carpet of his chamber, and before he knows it, he’s already being pulled outside his bedroom doors.

***

The sweet smell of sugared beef, sesame oil and garlic wafts in the air when a plateful of food clunks on the marble counter in front of Ten.

“What is this??” Ten’s fingers are already inching towards the fork next to the plate, drool pooling inside the base of his mouth. He’s a er for sweet things, and just a whiff of the foreign dish makes his stomach growl.

“Bulgogi. It’s marinated beef.” Taeyong is wiping his hands on the white apron tied around his waist. Ten finds the mun nai quite charming when he’s acting all domesticated, but he keeps the compliment to himself.

The main kitchen of the Grand Palace is situated at the backmost part of the ground floor, a little further down its main hallway. While the Royal Dining Room has its own small kitchen upstairs, most of the food stocks are kept in a small storage space at the main kitchen along with a huge cooking area complete with all the needed utilities. The way Taeyong moves around the kitchen clearly indicates that it’s not his first time here. The mun nai is quiet when he cooks and with a keen attention to detail, taking time to chop the spices finely and using his bare hands to mix the meat before tossing them in a pan.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Ten mumbles as he takes a bite of beef from the plate, the flavours instantly bursting in his mouth. It tastes as good as it smells and he can’t help but smile when he sees how Taeyong looks pleased with himself.

“You don’t know a lot about me, Your Royal Highness.”

Ten concedes quietly, ignoring the obvious tease. Taeyong takes his own fork from a nearby drawer and stabs it on a slice of beef from Ten’s plate.

“Hey!” Ten swats Taeyong’s hand away with a firm palm.

“What??” Taeyong looks stunned and Ten fights the urge to laugh at his adorable reaction.

“This is my food. You can’t pick on someone else’s food. Especially if it was made for the Crown Prince.”

Taeyong’s mouth hangs open in shock, his jaw clenching and unclenching before he stares back at the full plate. “I cooked this for the both of us. This entire plate could feed four people.”

“I know that,” Ten is still trying to keep a straight face on. “But I want the whole plate to myself now.”

Taeyong closes his mouth, his eyes darkening. “Brat.”

“I hurfd tht,” Ten mumbles through a mouthful of beef.

Taeyong huffs, blowing the stray strands of silver hair away from his eyes. He pulls a wooden stool behind the counter so he can sit face to face with the royal.

Ten is still chewing his food noisily, the thick brown sauce from the beef clinging to his fingers and palms.

“Do princes really eat like that?” Taeyong looks disgusted and Ten just gives him a casual stare.

The beef makes a juicy sound when Ten stabs it with his fork before bringing the slice up to Taeyong’s mouth. “Here. I wouldn’t want you to go around telling people I haven’t been feeding you anything. Eat up.”

Taeyong glowers. “I’m full. Thanks.”

Ten brings the fork closer to Taeyong’s mouth, and he fights off the pull to stare at the mun nai’s lips, willing his eyes to look at the fork instead. “Eat,” he orders more sternly.

Taeyong rolls his eyes and puts his fingers around Ten’s hand, steadying the fork in front of his mouth. His lips are red and slick when they wipe along the tines before pulling the meat from the tip, and Ten in a sharp breath, a strange prickly albeit heated sensation crawling beneath his skin. It takes him a few more seconds to realize that his hand is still outstretched, an empty fork poised in front of Taeyong’s mouth while the mun nai’s fingers lay wrapped around his fist.

Ten pulls his hand instantly and drops his eyes on the plate, stuffing in as much meat as he can in his mouth to keep him from talking. He curses in his head when he hears that familiar drumming sound echoing in his chest. Not again.

“Slow down, you’re going to choke.” Taeyong’s laugh is low and attractive when it comes out of his mouth, and it makes Ten feel a little weak. Taeyong’s laugh has never sounded like this to him before, and he doubts the mun nai has changed the way he laughs. Can people even do that? Do people’s laughter change overnight? Does the sound actually change? Or maybe it’s Ten that changed. He doesn’t know. Why is he even making a dissertation about the sound of Taeyong’s laugh in his head anyway?

Ten chokes eventually and as predicted, gets meat stuck in his throat. Taeyong immediately stands up from his seat, walks towards the other side of the counter and grabs a glass of water. He holds the glass towards Ten and the latter grabs it, fingers curling around the glass and Taeyong’s warm skin as he chugs the water down to relax his throat. The cold water sends a chill down the gullet and Ten coughs, clutching a hand to his chest.

Taeyong chuckles again and Ten wonders if he could ever get used to the effects of Taeyong’s new laugh. “Told you to slow down,” the mun nai says a little later, his eyes shining with happy tears.

Ten rolls his eyes at him but finds it hard to fight down the smile that’s starting to sneak its way to his own lips. It suddenly feels incredibly hot inside the kitchen despite the desertion of summer; a drop of sweat hangs on Ten’s sideburn while he shakes his head. His heart almost stops when he feels Taeyong’s hand on his cheek, a thumb swiping across his bottom lip before retreating just as instantly. Taeyong takes his thumb into his own mouth before pulling it out with a slick-sounding pop, wiping it clean with the sauce from Ten’s mouth.

 Ten can hear a part of him screaming bloody danger, but he wears the calm mask tighter on his face.

“Your face is red,” Taeyong’s thumb is still resting languidly on his bottom lip when he says it, and Ten can feel his entire face flushing even more.

The Crown Prince takes his palms to his face, rubbing it harshly. “Is there chilli in this? I’m not that used to eating spicy food. It makes my skin fee