It is a little overwhelming to stand outside and let the world pull you back to reality. Ten can feel it. He can feel the world wrap its fingers around him, coaxing his cheeks with the rays of the sun and blowing at his hair with its ice-cold wind. The entire tribe has risen early with most of its men seen loading stuff on crates and women and children helping warriors suit up for battle. As promised, Jaehyun sent a raven to his men on the ships to prepare fresh gears and weapons from whatever’s still left in their cargo hold. They should be ready by the time they reach the shore. It’s not much, but it will help make their defences stronger. Yuta also chipped in whatever his army can spare.

The natives have prepared a small feast prior to their army’s departure. As much as Ten wants to stuff himself with roasted chicken and baked potatoes, he feels like he’s lost his appetite just watching their men get ready for war. Every so often, he would find himself staring at the people around him, wondering just how things had come to this. Wondering how things will end. Fear is warm and seething in every vein in his body, but he makes it a point to keep a straight face on. A King can never show fear, that’s what his father used to say.

“You need to eat.”

Taeyong is sitting at his right, a spoon stabbed on his scoop of potato while he chews his food lazily. His eyes are on Ten and he looks anxious as always. They’re sitting at a long table filled with natives and random soldiers.

Ten fakes a smile although he knows Taeyong would never buy it. “I’m full. I ate a lot at the wedding feast last night.”

The dip in between Taeyong’s brows deepens and he scoops a spoonful of potato from his plate and poises it in front of Ten’s mouth. Johnny is sitting in front of them, grinning while he chomps on a chicken leg. “Eat up,” Taeyong commands, inching the spoon closer to Ten’s mouth.

Ten huffs, breath pluming out in the cold fall wind, and he can feel more men turning their heads to their direction. A flush blooms across his cheeks and ears as he finally catches the food in his mouth. Taeyong smiles wide and gives him a wink, and the King has to suppress a groan. Johnny pretend-gags on his food and Ten throws him a glare.

“Taeyong,” Johnny clears his throat in an attempt to escape Ten’s wrath, “I think you need to change your wound dressing. That’s gonna get you infected.” He points his spoon at Taeyong’s arm and Ten turns to find the bandage slightly falling off his arm. The deep cut made by Sicheng’s blade is peeking from the top and most of the bandage is already hanging loose around his bicep. From the looks of it, the wound’s still swollen and red underneath and Ten has to bite on his lip while he surveys the damage. He’s mentally blaming himself for not paying the injury any attention last night.

Taeyong is just sitting there, a spoon stuck in his mouth while he pouts at his mess of a bandage. He’s not even complaining about the obvious pain.

“I’ll help you clean it up,” Ten says, smiling while he pats a hand on Taeyong’s thigh. Johnny just grimaces at them in his seat.

While the rest of the army prepare for their departure back to the shores, Ten pulls Taeyong inside one of the empty huts to tend to his arm. He takes time cleaning the cut with a wet towel before applying some ointment given by one of the natives for Taeyong’s open wound. He wraps it with a fresh string of bandage, knotting it tight around the cuts of his bicep. Ten’s eyes are too busy admiring his own work that he doesn’t even realise how long Taeyong’s been staring at him until his eyes flick up to tell him that he’s done. He’s assaulted by the nearness of Taeyong’s face and the aroma of summer, and Ten almost falls off the small bed they’ve been sitting on. He will never get used to the way Taeyong looks at him like he’s the most precious thing in the entire world.

Taeyong’s eyes are warm, the dark brown blown out and inviting and he leans in to press a soft kiss on Ten’s mouth. Ten’s eyes are wide, taken aback by the sudden gesture, and he laughs into the kiss, hitting Taeyong’s lips with his teeth. The Prince leans in closer and Ten has to push him back lightly to keep them from going further.

The Prince pouts and Ten cups his face in his hands. “We’re leaving in a few minutes,” he reminds him.

“I know,” Taeyong says, leaning in again to plant a kiss on Ten’s neck, soft pecks climbing up to his jawline until the Prince’s mouth reaches his lips.

Ten pulls out again. “I’m serious,” he tries to say more sternly and he brushes his fingers over Taeyong’s cheeks in silent apology.

The sigh that escapes Taeyong’s chest is deep and heavy. They’re quiet for a few seconds, with Taeyong just staring into Ten’s eyes while he holds his face in his hands.

“What are you thinking?” Ten whispers. There’s barely enough light inside the hut with the door just slightly open to let in a bit of the morning light. Taeyong’s eyelashes are still shining though, and Ten has to in a breath to remember that he’s not dreaming. It’s really Taeyong’s warmth that’s splayed all over his palms.

Taeyong’s careful when he wraps his fingers around Ten’s hands, pulling them down to rest on his thigh. “Remember the first time I invited you to spar with me?” Taeyong asks quietly. Ten just stares at him, feeling like he’s in a trance. “That day you brought me to your spar class. On our way home, you brought me to your favourite spot by the river and I asked you to spar with me.”

The words finally sink in Ten’s head and he nods, remembering that night. The night he granted Taeyong permission to call him by his first name. “I remember you won,” he says and Taeyong laughs.

“Yes, I did.” The way he says it isn’t cocky at all. If anything, Ten finds it attractive. “And we also made a bet,” Taeyong reminds him.

Ten purses his lips in thought. That part he doesn’t remember.

Taeyong’s smile widens. “I told you if I won, I can ask you anything I want. I want to use that favour now.”

Ten just blinks at him and his breath stops momentarily when he feels Taeyong’s hands tighten around his palms. He looks up to see Taeyong’s smile melting off his face, replaced with a thin lonely line that tugs on the ends of his lips. “What do you want?” Ten asks gently.

Taeyong’s gaze drops to their hands as he slips his fingers in between Ten’s, clasping their hands together. “When we go out there and fight… If I tell you to run, I want you to run, Ten,” he tells him.

Ten’s eyebrows furrow at his request. If Taeyong’s asking him to leave him if something happens, Ten can’t just—

“Stop thinking about it,” Taeyong tells him, bringing a palm up to rest on Ten’s cold cheek. “Nothing bad has happened yet. And nothing bad will ever happen to you, I swear. I will make sure of it.”

That’s not the point, Ten wants to say. “If you’re asking me to leave you when something bad happens, I—”

“This is not just about what I promised your father, Ten,” Taeyong cuts in, leaning in closer until he can feel Taeyong’s warm breath coaxing his cheeks. There’s a slight tremble in the way he stares into his eyes and Ten has to hold his breath again. “I can’t help worrying about you. And if I have to keep on looking out for the both of us when things get very difficult, I don’t know what will happen.”

“I can take care of myself,” Ten says stubbornly and Taeyong laughs faintly, touching their foreheads together.

“I know you can,” he says quietly. “You can think of it as your way of protecting me. If you’re not there, I have better chances at fighting off all the bad guys.”

Ten punches his chest lightly at the jest and Taeyong catches his fist in his hand, keeping it there. Ten can feel Taeyong’s heart racing under his palm and his eyes flick up to find a smile crawling back to the Prince’s lips.

“Promise me,” he says.

Ten sighs deeply, feeling completely defeated. “I promise.”

***

By the time Ten gets out of the hut, most of the natives and army men are all set to go. Hansol’s doing last-minute roll calls and military briefing, dividing the men in groups depending on the ships that they will be boarding. Taeyong gives Ten’s hand a soft squeeze before running off to join Hansol talk to the troops and Ten finds himself walking toward the hem of the woods, staring at the towering heights of the thick pine trees.

Ten finds Yuta not too far away from the trail of trees. He’s crouched down on the ground while he looks up at Chenle and Renjun, his smile wide and his eyes reduced to small slits. The King walks toward them and almost misses the way Chenle rolls a fist over Yuta’s palm, holding out something that the Crown Prince quickly clasps in his hand.

“Thank you,” Yuta says, ruffling his free hand on Chenle’s hair. The boy throws his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Chenle’s eyelashes are all wet when he pulls back and Renjun comforts him by rubbing small circles on his back. The smaller kid tiptoes to whisper something in Renjun’s ear and Yuta a curious eyebrow at them.

“Chenle said he wishes the best for you and Hansol,” Renjun says, head bending sideways when Chenle pulls him down to whisper in his ear again. “And he said you can’t die in the war or Hansol will be sad.”

Yuta laughs quietly, pinching C