Ten rolls over on his stomach, his elbows perched up on his mahogany writing table, its edges gleaming with fresh black ink. His hands have ink blotches all over them and his white robe looks like a makeshift cow skin. The Crown Prince sticks his tongue out of the corner of his lips as he pulls his fingers up, dragging the quill to pen a long cursive line with full concentration. The parchment has his handprints all over them, what with all the ink on the sides of his palms. Ten stares at the cursive sample right beside the parchment and frowns. His handwriting doesn’t even come close to the stunning calligraphy made by his writing ajahn.

“You seem displeased.” Taeyong’s sudden appearances do not surprise Ten anymore. It’s a Friday and they have been together for almost three days now. The headmaster is dead serious about Ten’s mandatory bedrest to make sure his head injury fully heals. Mark just delivered a fresh pile of parchments and a couple of books to his doorstep the other day and Ten already feels the punishment weighing down on his shoulders with every fibre of his being.

The Crown Prince sighs with a heavy pout of his lips. “I am. I hate writing.”

Taeyong kneels beside him, fingers sliding through the sheets of parchment on the table. “These are not so bad.” There was ink all over the parchment in his hand and the words are barely readable to anyone with perfect vision. “Yup, not bad at all,” he mutters, sarcasm lacing his voice.

Ten grabs the parchment from Taeyong’s hand with a grunt. “For your information, I’m good at drawing. I just happen to be very bad at writing.”

“Understood,” Taeyong mumbles, strolling back to his post near the study room doors. Ten swears he saw the mun nai smirk before he turned his back on him.

Ten’s always been alone for most of his life. He has no siblings and barely sees his parents, both being way too busy with their royal duties. Although he’s always felt loved and well taken care of, a person’s physical presence could make all the difference in building far worthwhile memories. Ten has lots of memories of his childhood, but most of which are time spent with his friends and there are only fizzles of moments with his mother and father. His father is, after all, the King – Siam’s highest nobleman and the tip of the entire royal hierarchy. Ten’s mother, on the other hand, was far too busy hearing out citizens, spearheading charities and attending to other pressing needs of the society. She was an ideal queen and her early death had brought much regret and distraught to many. To say that Ten’s family was well loved and respected in Siam is a gross understatement, which is why the Crown Prince has always felt like he had so much weight on his shoulders, so much he needed to prove.

Ten was left to go about his daily activities on his own since he had learned to walk, and he learned to be independent by the time he knew how to read and talk. Sure, he has phrais who are tasked to tend to his needs, but what he needs is a real person to talk to. A friend or a confidante who he can confide in and say all his thoughts out loud, ranging from the most ridiculous to the most heartfelt. Thankfully, he did see these traits in his friends. He owes most of his unforgettable memories to Yuta, Hansol and Johnny.

“Your Royal Highness,” Taeyong’s words pierce through Ten’s momentary flashback. “Today is the late Queen’s second death anniversary. His Majesty had asked if you would like to join him at his visit to the temple this afternoon.”

Ten blinks, watching the blotches of ink on his robe seep into the cotton. “I… I have other plans. Please tell the King I won’t be able to join him today.” He has never visited the temple since his mother’s burial. The place is a floodgate of unwanted memories and Ten does not like dealing with those things – he hates dealing with feelings that recall his pain.

The mun nai nods gently, hands poised on his back. “I’ll have a phrai send His Majesty word of your decision.” He takes a couple of steps back before turning around, heading towards the door.

“Taeyong,” Ten calls out, his voice uncertain.

Taeyong stops in his tracks and turns to Ten’s direction. “Yes, Your Royal Highness?”

“I… Can I ask you to accompany me somewhere?”

Taeyong nods. “Of course. Anywhere.”

Ten feels a significant amount of weight lift off his shoulders. “Thank you. Give me half an hour to bathe and get dressed. I’ll see you outside my bed chamber.”

***

“So where are we headed to?”

The wind fiddles with the strands of Ten’s dark hair, laying them softly over his eyes. He is wearing one of his simpler robes, shaded a deep blue and with ebony linings at the hem. He doesn't wear the bandage around his head anymore to give his wound some room to breathe, let it heal on its own. Ten hates making a fuss with his injuries, all of which he considers minor.

They just stepped out of the west wing of the Grand Palace, right at the heart of the garden where most of the royal parties took place. The ends of Ten’s robe are sweeping against the grass as they tread towards the innermost part of the garden encased in tall green hedges and pecked with an array of flowers from all angles.

“I didn’t know the garden was this huge inside,” Taeyong comments from the side, and the Crown Prince smiles gently to himself. He watches the mun nai’s brows stitch together in thought.

Wait till you see what’s inside.

After two more minutes of walking past a dozen other hedges shadowing a labyrinth of earth’s finest flowers and shrubs, Ten stops right in front of a thicker hedge lined with thick vines and purple blooms. He reaches out and pulls on some of the twigs and vines, palming on the flatter surface behind the flowers.

“What are you searching for?” Taeyong asks, his voice growing a little impatient. “I can help you if you won’t mind sharing it with—“ his words get cut by the clicking sound of an opened door.

Ten smiles as he braces his hands on the hedge and pushes a part of it open, appearing to be a concealed oak door. Inside, a small fountain lies in a sea of flowers, painted with the hues of the sun and the depth of the blues of the skies. The grass seems so much greener with the sun pelting it with its afternoon grace, and it takes Ten’s breath away every single time.

Taeyong’s mouth hangs open as he stares at the secret space. “How did you—why did I never know this place exists?”

Ten’s laughter sounds more like a breathless squeal. “This is my mother’s secret garden. Only the two of us know about this place. Not even my father has been here.”

“Wow,” Taeyong gapes, visibly admiring the lush colours in front of his eyes and the crystal-like water flowing from the fountain. “This is definitely something.”

“Something?” Ten implores teasingly. “Here, come with me.”

Taeyong follows Ten quietly as the latter leads them towards the back of the garden where a huge line of pink and purple flowers stand beautifully at the centre. The petals are loud and tilting stunningly from its tall green stems, its longer leaves sprouting from the earth in its breathtaking glory. The small space could almost be akin to paradise with its wild colours blistering in a flattering blush, highlighting its unique shade.

“These are gladiola blooms. They’re my mother’s favourite flowers. I guess you could say they’re mine too.” Ten’s eyes are on the pretty blooms before him, a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s a miracle all these flowers have lived healthily without that much attention. Unless—“ Taeyong’s voice trails off.

“I come here often to care for them. When I have nothing to do in the palace,” Ten continues for the mun nai, “I just come here to just stare at all these colours. It makes me feel happy and content.”

“Gladiola… the gladiolus,” Taeyong’s voice is soft, his eyes trained at the plethora of colours before them. “It means—“

“Honour. It means strength of character and conviction,” Ten supplies. “It’s what my mother believes are the makings of a great and respectable king.”

“Are those the same for you?”

The question throws Ten off-guard, but he masks the unease with a wider smile. “Well, that and one more thing.”

Sometimes, Taeyong’s silence can be a little worrying.

“A King needs to have fervour too. It’s far more than what passion and love can give. Something that will keep you going in spite of anything and anyone. No matter what anyone says or thinks about you, you need to have that fire burning constantly inside of you.”

“Seems quite a chore,” Taeyong comments with a click of his tongue.

Taeyong laughs half-heartedly. “It is, yes.”

“I’m sure you could work your way around it.”

Ten smiles at those words. He’ll take any compliment he can get from the mun nai. “I like going here when I miss my mother. This place is her in many ways. When I’m here, it’s like a part of her never died… it’s like a part of her remains with me.”

Ten kneels in front of the gladiola, the ends of his robe wrinkling under his knees. Inside his robe pocket are a candle and a matchbox that he prepared before leaving. He takes these out and lights the candle, placing it right next to his mother’s favourite blooms. The Crown Prince closes his eyes in silent prayer, allowing his steady breathing to calm his senses. It has been a couple of years, yet he still hasn’t found his mother’s murderer. He is starting to doubt he ever will now that his father has specifically asked him for far bigger things. It’s like his hand is still holding on to the thought with a vice grip and he doesn’t know if he will ever truly let go.

“What’s that?” Taeyong says, pointing to a small wooden box nestled inconspicuously underneath the line of gladiola.

“Oh,” Ten mumbles, picking up the box from the damp soil and placing it on his palm. “It’s my secret box.”

“A secret box in a secret garden. Huh, I’m unravelling quite a lot of secrets today,” the mun nai chuckles, brushing his hair off his face with his fingers. Ten thinks he looks stunning this way. When the wind is all caught up in his hair and the strands fall on Taeyong’s face, it strikes something inside of Ten.

“The content of this box will remain a secret, though. I’m not sharing it with you.” Ten clutches the box to his chest and starts walking away towards the door.

“Please tell me it’s not a love letter to someone, because that’s just cheesy.”

Ten frowns. He did keep one of his love letters to Jaehyun inside his secret box before, but he’s long since burned it. It was nothing but a petty word vomit of all his teenage feels. He’s grown past that now. At least the petty feeling, though. His love for Jaehyun is still there.

“Of course not!” Ten finally says. “I kept my dream note here.”

“Your what?”

“A dream note,” Ten repeats more sternly, his lips pouting in determination. “It’s like a note to your future self. Of what I want to be when I grow up, and all that superstitious stuff and… well… WHY am I even sharing this to you in the first place??” Ten can hear Taeyong laughing huskily while he storms out of the garden, his secret box tucked in one arm.

“Hey, wait up!” Taeyong calls as Ten proceeds to walking further away from the mun nai, his robe swaying in between his legs as the summer wind breezed past him. “I’m curious to know what your dream is.”

“It’s called a secret box for a reason,” Ten says pointedly, closing the door of the garden behind them, the vines falling automatically over it and hiding it from view.

Taeyong stares at the Crown Prince intently, arms crossed on his chest. “You know you could use an extra hand in making that dream come true. I can help you.”

“I doubt you can. It’s a little too complicated,” Ten mutters, feet intent on walking back towards the palace.

“There’s no such thing as complicated. Here, just let me read it.” Taeyong reaches out for the box tucked in between Ten’s arm and waist. Ten moves to the side swiftly, missing Taeyong’s reach by just a fracture of a second.

“Nope. I’m not letting you read it over my dead body.”

Taeyong just laughs as he reaches for the box again, prompting Ten to take another step back. Ten miscalculates, however, throwing himself off balance and falling on his back with Taeyong attempting to grab him by the shoulder and getting pulled by the force of Ten’s fall. Needless to say, Ten finds himself sprawled on the floor with his mun nai lying on top of him barely a second after.

“I’m—“ Ten can feel his chest rising and falling in lightning speed against Taeyong’s own chest. The mun nai’s eyes are wide and staring at him, and for the first time, Ten notices that they are not entirely brown but bistre in colour. His eyelashes fall perfectly against his cheeks and his lips have the right amount of red to highlight its thin, flawless form. Ten can feel Taeyong’s quick breaths fanning against his face, and its warmth inevitably spreads across his enti