If Time Can Dare [BL]

3

Later that evening, in the parents' private quarter, the father rubs the mother's feet. She leans down and kisses him. She signs with gentle eyes, 'Thank you, honey. I love you.'

'I love you too,' he smiles and cover his wife's legs under the thick comforter. 'Sleep well. I'm here if you have another bad dream.'

He blows out the candle and lies beside his wife. He hugs her and recalls the early memories of their marriage. He believes that his life would've gone nowhere if she hadn't marry him since he is deaf. He loves her most sincerely.

In the room next door, Gwen is sleeping soundly. And in the other room next to hers, Gin has his window open, and he looks up at the stars above during this lightly overcast and moonless night.

The stars are brighter without a moon overwhelming the night sky. Gin sighs, and then sighs again. He has no idea how to confront his bottomless yet surging emotion toward a married man. Initially, he thought he'll never love so he never made a plan to consider it in his life except to ignore it.

Sleepless, Gin remakes his bed and goes out his room for a walk. It's not quite spring yet so the air is still cold but humid because of the recent rains. Without a coat he's shivering, but with a coat he's sweating.

While deep in thoughts since he can't seem to not think, he notices a large figure down the stairs that separates the house from the shop. With each step closer, the light from his candle clarifies the shape of the figure waiting for him at the bottom.

"Why are you here?"

The burly man chuckles, "I would like to ask you the same."

"I asked first." Gin knots his brows with a frown, trying to seem uninterested and annoyed.

"To see you. I'm leaving."

"Now?"

The man nods. "Then I shall be on my way."

Gin doesn't bother to say anything more because at last he is free of the weird feelings he has if the man isn't here. And as for the burly man, he is only curious to know that a man has thoughts to pursue a romantic relationship with him.

However curious he may be, it ought to stay as curiosity. He is a powerful king. His soldiers are waiting for his return to lead them. A person like Gin is more or less the last thing he could care for.

Under the moonless sky, the man walks in the shadows until he is greeted by the light steps of his guards. He is escorted back to the battlefield; and the river of blood begins to flow again.

"Going toward these swaps may prove to be rather difficult. May this official suggests first march south to capture the major city before going more west for the capital?"

"There's no point in capturing this major city," the king rubs his chin. "I know a path through the swamps. There is a town on the other side that will help us with supplies."

"Then let's proceed as Your Majesty has said."

Later that evening, a bodyguard of the king is called into his tent. He watches the king deep in thoughts, dipping his pen into ink without writing a word.

"Do you receive any letters from home?"

The bodyguard hesitates, but answers, "Yes."

"Are any of them sensual?"

The king's face is of absolute seriousness, causing the bodyguard to pause. He swallows a thought or two and ends up replying, "I'll call for a maid to warm your—"

"Forget it." The king pulls out a sealed letter, "Deliver this to the carpentry shop in the small town west of the swamp where I was found."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The king feels the golden ring on his finger as he sits loosely on his seat. He recalls his late wife, her beauty and elegance. She was different from Gin, a quiet and sturdy man. As he thinks of her, the urge to escape the night and meet Gin evaporates.

On the twenty-eighth of March when the swamp is shrouded in a thick fog, the king lead his army through a path he once took to Gin's town. Soon they reached the edge of town, the king reminds his men to not attack the building with a red scarf tied at the door.

Hastily, the townspeople could see a blue line in the distant. They wonder why the watchtowers have not warn them of the incoming enemy. When the sounds of soldiers are within their sight, they bear in arms to protect their livelihoods.

"We want supplies and pass through peacefully!" The king announces at the edge of town, ready for a battle if necessary.

The townspeople speak among themselves:

"It's not even the planting season yet. If we give them our food, what will we eat?"

"How are we supposed to fight them? They're trained soldiers. We're average people!"

"Then where are the guards and knights? They've been taxing us as if we're in a state of war for years! Now that a battle is at our doorsteps where are all the people in charge?"

"I work as the lord's gardener. They left in a hurry this morning, saying they're going to visit the in-laws."

The townspeople are furious and frustrated. They can't give up nor fight for their supplies.

Gin is among them, and he walks forward. He steals a glance at the king and then turns to his townspeople, "I'll show them where the lord stores his food. And after, we'll split what's leftover. You all needn't worry about contributing. Now, please make way for them."

They stay silent for a moment until someone says, "That's true now, but when the lord returns we'll suffer—"

"Have we not suffer enough from the hands of the nobles? Our hands are soiled in sweat and blood everyday. Our stomachs are empty after every meal. The nobles? They've white fatty hands and their stomachs are never empty! Let's pray that the lord never returns. Let this nation crumble and we will build a new one."

The townspeople sure have never hear Gin say these many words before nor this powerful. They each look at their hands and feel their stomach.