Kittisawat Dynasty and Theerapanyakul Dynasty have been at war for almost ten years. War for power and the throne has been hanging above the two kingdoms like the most vicious storm... However, His Majesty Kimhan has a plan.
"Is Your Majesty sure th...
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Porchay has no idea how much time has passed or when the rain stopped, but the more the pain subsides the more he is aware of how close Kimhan is. How their bodies are pressed, so close that he can almost feel Kimhan's heart beating. How Kimhan's arms are holding him close and tight, so tight. How the air feels warm... and how much he hates all of it.
Porchay presses his palms to Kimhan's chest and pushes hard and without warning, making Kimhan stumble a little and a shadow of surprise appear on his face.
"Don't come near me! Don't ever come near me!" Porchay storms away, back to the chamber he left with so much hope just hours ago.
He can hear Kimhan calling after him, pleading with him to stop, wanting to talk. But Porchay doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to hear a word coming from the monster that is chasing him. He doesn't want to look at Kimhan. He wants to forget that Kimhan even exists.
He walks into his chamber angry at the world, angry at Kimhan, angry at himself for being so weak and coming back. He doesn't want to see anyone, wants to be alone, alone, alone, but he isn't...
"Your Royal Highness," the nanny bows down and she smiles, her eyes genuinely happy to see Porchay again—it takes away a small portion of anger Porchay feels inside of himself.
She is preparing Porchay's bed as if she was expecting him... She did, didn't she? She told Porchay that they'll see each other soon again. She knew all along that he would come back. Because she trusted Kimhan. She trusts Kimhan. And because Porchay didn't, he suffered so much. But he can never force himself to trust Kimhan. He'd rather suffer for the rest of his life than trust that man. Being forced to live in the country of his enemy. Being held against his will in the company of his enemy, being married to his enemy... the hell has many forms and this one is Porchay's.
"Leave," he breathes out, not looking at the nanny at all, instead his eyes are focused down at his feet and the bottom of his robe—dirty and wet.
"Your Royal Highness, you haven't eaten in a long time. I'll fetch you something—"
"I said, leave! I'm not hungry."
"But Your Royal—"
"Haven't you heard me?" Porchay finally looks up at the nanny. He feels tears prickling his eyes. He just wants to be alone! Is that too much to ask for?
The nanny drops the pillow she was holding and steps closer to Porchay, "as you wish, Your Royal Highness, but I'm worried about you... I don't want you to get sick."
"No worries," Porchay forces a smile, "even if I die, I'll be stuck here with your king as a ghost anyway. Looks like there's no way I can ever be free from him ever again."
"Don't say it like that, Your Royal Highness," the nanny says pleadingly. "You'll be happy here. I know you will."
Porchay looks right at the nanny and shakes his head, "my understanding is that you are the one who basically raised Kimhan. You will always love him. Always see the best in him. And I'm not blaming you... but no matter how much you try, you can't make me see him in the same light because unlike you, I see him the way he really is. Now, please leave me alone."
