ACT II

The wind cuts through Ten’s cheeks, the cold clawing at his skin while he runs on the thick expanse of grass. His legs are starting to feel numb from the haste, his knees buckling with every step, with every collapse of sole on land, his fingers digging into Taeyong’s palm as he holds on to his hand. The sky is dark and quiet but the pound of the drums is heavy in their ears. The beat echoed quietly at first, gradually rising in volume before crawling past their senses and making its presence known.

Ten bites on his lips, tasting a bit of Taeyong in his mouth. His heart is a thunderbolt inside his chest and it falls in frightening harmony with the taphon’s deafening beat. Taeyong gives Ten’s hand a tight squeeze, pulling him closer to him while they run north, the faint silhouette of the Grand Palace tainting the night sky before them.

By the time they arrive, the gates are ajar, the lights and the rustle and bustle of people, both nobles and phrais, ring in their ears.

The drumming of the taphon is hollow and sore, its deep sound bouncing off the walls of the palace. Ten knows the sound too well now and he’s almost sure what news it brings. He turns around to look at Taeyong and he too has that anxious look in his eyes.

“Taeyong, what if—”

The mun nai pulls him in his arms and plants his lips on his hair. Taeyong’s voice sounds hoarse and ragged, but Ten clings to his every word, “Don’t say it. We don’t know yet, Ten.”

“Your Royal Highness!” Lord Somchai is running on his heels, the lines of his robe in wrinkles and disarray when he bows in front of Ten.

“Lord Somchai,” Ten acknowledges, feeling Taeyong’s fingers slip away from his hand, replaced by the empty cold. “What’s going on? That sound…”

“Your Royal Highness.” The royal adviser’s gray hair has never looked grayer than they do now with sweat deepening the colour of his sideburns and sticking his bangs to his forehead. “We need you at the boardroom now.”

There is a hard pull in the base of Ten’s chest and he wills every nerve in his body to ignore it. He follows the old man to the direction of the boardroom, past the thread of phrais and nobles who are staring at him, looking equally petrified of what’s about to come.

Inside the boardroom, the members of the royal council are in their seats, save for Arthit who has his hands balled up on the round table while he stands.

“Your Royal Highness!” the greeting comes in low hushed noises and Ten moves his way to his father’s empty seat. Sir Gamon’s head is down, his eyebrows stitched while his fingernails busy themselves with the loose chips of wood on the armrests of his chair. From the opposite end of the round table, Counsellor Boon Nam of Siam’s High Courts is sitting with his shoulders hunched over, eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

“Lord Somchai,” Ten breathes and he can hear his own voice shaking. “Please tell me.”

The lines in the old man’s face deepen and Ten already knows what he’s about to say before he even hears it. Everyone is all ears now, waiting for the King's adviser to confirm the dreadful news.

“The King is dead, Your Royal Highness.”

The air is too thin and Ten’s lungs are refusing it, pulling out his strength to breathe. Ten’s hands find refuge in the strong edges of the round table. The silence in the room is deafening and he is using all his remaining strength to stay on his feet.

“Tell me again,” Ten’s voice is low and empty when he hears himself speak.

“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness.”

“How?” Ten asks and he hates the lilt in his own voice, giving his fears away.

Lord Somchai is looking at him, his lips pursed. The man bows his head.

“Tell me how the King died.” Ten can feel it. He can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him like each gram scaled a ton. His breathing sounds laboured, the cold air in the room feeling dry and sticky on his skin despite the way it scraped on his senses.

“The Aere Perennius sank a few thousand miles from the dock, Your Royal Highness. Its remains are floating in the gulf. There were no survivors.”

“The bodies?”

“A raven was sent here from the Riau Islands. They found dead bodies on their shore.”

Ten tightens his grip on the table. “The King?”

“His body was found along with three others. We have sent troops and three mun nais on sail to pick up His Majesty’s remains. It will be at least three days before they get back.”

Ten’s eyes flicker up and he can see Taeyong looking at him from afar, his mouth stretched in a single line. Ten can feel his own soul collapsing, he can hear his body crumbling down from the inside, but he breathes deep, ploughing for whatever else he can find in him to remain on his feet.

“Have you talked to the navy yet? The Aere Perennius passed checks before the sail,” Arthit sounds beaten down and Ten can see the tears pooling in his uncle’s eyes.

“It did, Sir. I already acquired the navy reports on Prince Ten’s way here and they were all negative of any infiltrations or faults.”

“Then how could the goddamn ship sink??” Ten loses it. He loses all his strength to feel. He is so heavy on the inside that if he did not say those words, if he did not scream it, he would have just broken down and cried.

“The gulf is known for its strong currents, Your Royal Highness,” Counsellor Kulap’s voice is soft and almost pleading when Ten hears it. “The Aere Perennius is built with strong wood and bronze, but a storm could still have taken it down.”

Ten turns his head to look at Lord Somchai. “Was there a report of a natural disaster?”

The gray strands of the adviser’s hair falter when he shakes his head. “There was none, Your Royal Highness. But judging from the description given by the Riau residents and how torn apart the ship was, only a storm could have had the strength.”

Ten finally sinks in his seat, his fingers curling against his lips when he clasps his hands in front of his face, elbows propped up on the table as nobles lie in wait.

“Ten,” Arthit’s voice is gentle, his hand warm on Ten’s shoulder.

“I need a moment.”

Ten breaks into a run the second he’s out the boardroom doors. He climbs up the flights of stairs leading to his chamber, slamming his body past the oak doors before sinking into a corner near his bed. He curls up, kneecaps grazing his chin and arms folding across his stomach. The room is dark but the tunnel in his head is pitch-black, its space shrinking around Ten, trapping him, out the air and leaving him weak and hurting in all places. Yuta is not here to hold him through the attack, but he has no choice, he has to endure it and find a way to fight the looming pain.

Death paddles into him, swimming in Ten’s veins like a vapour. The ache is sharp when it courses through his body and the Crown Prince almost screams. He sinks his teeth into his lips, shuts his eyes, allowing the tears to run down his temples and hair. There is a mallet in his chest, breaking its walls with every strike, and Ten can hear his lungs crushing under the weight of each pound. The buzz of crickets outside the window rings in his ears, its volume increasing tenfold with every wallop in his chest, and that’s all it takes for him to scream.

“Ten!”

Taeyong’s voice is shaking when it clouds over the remains of Ten’s consciousness. He could barely feel anything when the mun nai scoops him up from the ground, cradling him in his arms and running his fingers through his hair, his palm warm on his cheek.

“I’m here, Ten. Listen to me. Breathe for me. Please.”

Ten inhales sharply but what he hears from his mouth is a choke, and his lungs constrict again. He is trembling all over and the darkness in the room is him in.

“Ten, please. Listen to my voice. Calm down. I’m right here.”

The walls around Ten slide out gradually, leaving him sweating and cold. His eyes flicker up and he sees Taeyong looking down at him, his eyes shiny from the crack of moonlight from the windows, and his face looks pale and utterly scared. His fingers are numb from the strength of Taeyong’s grip and he fights down the pull of unconsciousness hovering on his senses.

Ten gasps when he takes in his first breath and Taeyong holds him tighter in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the mun nai’s chest. His fingers find purchase in the front of Taeyong’s robes, and he drags a long heavy breath, the scent of summer mornings taking him back to his surroundings.

“He’s gone, Taeyong. My father is dead,” Ten chokes and his voice sounds so distant, so scarred, he barely recognizes it.

“Breathe, Ten. I need you out of that dark hole inside your head. Please breathe for me.” Taeyong takes Ten’s hand and pulls it close to his heart. The Thai Prince watches the steady rise and fall of Taeyong’s chest as he breathes and he slowly does the same.

Ten sinks his face into Taeyong’s neck, dragging himself closer to the mun nai, scared that he might lose him too.

“I’m right here, Ten. I’m not going anywhere,” Taeyong whispers like he heard Ten’s thoughts. His fingers are back on Ten’s hair, combing through its strands with a mix of gentleness and restraint.

Ten wishes that this was all just a dream, that he is still lying in the bed of gladiola by the cliff and Taeyong has yet to wake him up from his sleep. But no matter how hard he bites on his tongue or how hard he pinches his skin, his body refuses to leave the dark walls of his room. He feels weak, like a good portion of his soul has resigned and Ten doesn’t know where to start again.

“I don’t know where I am anymore.”

Taeyong’s grip tightens around his cold fingers. “You’re right here with me.”

Ten’s eyes are stinging again and he breathes slowly, the air dragging on the base of his lungs. Everything hurts.

“I was seven when my father died and I was so far away from him for most of my life, I barely even remember how he looked like. You’re lucky to have spent your entire life with your father by your side.” Taeyong's voice is calm but it swells of his own pain.

The warmth of the mun nai's skin comforts Ten’s frozen cheeks. Time is flashing by him in lightning speed, and he can’t keep up no matter how hard he clings to the fragments. He wasn’t ready to lose someone again, but then he wonders if anyone will ever be ready to lose someone they love regardless of when it happens.

“His Majesty had always been proud of you, Ten. You were his beacon of light and your smile was the sun to his mornings. You had always brightened his days.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Taeyong smiles, pulling Ten closer to him like the smallness of their proximity is never enough. “He didn’t have to. You’ve always had that effect on people. I’m sure he felt the same way.”

Ten sighs. The moon is glazing its white light in between the bedroom curtains, but everything still looks so dark. “I need to go back to the boardroom,” he says weakly a few minutes later, when the room has gone completely still. “I might have driven the council mad with the way I walked out on them like that.”

“Lord Somchai’s got everything under control for now.” Taeyong’s lips are back on the top of Ten’s hair and it helps ease the Crown Prince’s breathing. “They’re sending a raven over to the Jung Empire to get a full report of the Aere Perennius and the rest of the people on board the ship before it sailed.”

The fear that boils in the pit of Ten’s stomach is vile and sweeping, and Ten wills himself to stay still in Taeyong’s embrace. He remembers his father’s last words to him, the warm look in the King’s eyes and the way he held him tight in his arms like he knew it was going to be the last. Ten remembers the way his father told him about finding the right person to marry, the way he laughed when Ten heard about the ball, and the way his father hugged him the night the Queen was murdered. There is no one there to listen to him complain about school anymore or tolerate his need to throw those ridiculous grand parties. He will never feel that warmth again; he will never hear his father’s voice again or see the way the King’s eyes light up when he sees that his son is happy. He could never tell him now that he has finally found the one, and he can’t help but regret how he never held him in his arms much longer… even for just a second more. Ten’s tears fog his vision but he inhales deeply, fighting back the waters that threaten to flood his eyes.

Ten feels lost. He feels raw and bare.