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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The moonlight is illuminating half of the chamber. From outside, the soothing sound of the carillon spreads around through the light night breeze. The chamber is filled with the scent of cherry blossoms and louts. The floor is hard and cold, and His Majesty Kimhan can't sleep.
"Little flower?"
Silence.
"Little flower?"
Silence.
"Your Royal Highness Porchay Theerapanyakul..."
Kimhan finally hears the rustling of the sheets, and moments later, his husband's pretty face is smiling down at him, "yes, my king?"
Well, Kimhan is going to focus on Porchay calling him 'my king' later, but now... "is this really necessary, Porchay? Just let me sleep with you!"
Porchay grins at his husband and shakes his head, "I said that we will be sleeping in the same chamber, but I didn't say that we will be sleeping in the same bed."
"But I thought..." Kimhan sighs.
"Kimhan, I love you... but you deserve to go through a little bit of suffering before I'll let you in my bed. Besides, why are you whining so much, hmm? You are a king in the time of war—I'm sure that you have spent plenty of your night sleeping on the battlefield. This can't be worse than that."
"Actually, it can," Kimhan sits up and grabs Porchay's hand so quickly as if Porchay is about to run away from him. "Before we weren't married. I didn't love you. And you weren't this close... This is practically a torture. You are torturing your king!"
"Good," Porchay smirks. "Eye for an eye, Kimhan."
Kimhan frowns and slowly lets go of Porchay's hand, "you really aren't going to let me sleep in your bed, are you?"
"No, I won't. Not tonight," Porchay leans down from his bed, pressing a quick kiss to Kimhan's lips, "you can handle this for a night for me, can't you?"
"Of course," Kimhan nods. "Everything for my little flower."
"Good night then, my king," Porchay lies back into his bed, closing his eyes once again, but just seconds later, Kimhan calls upon his name again.
"Porchay?"
"Hmm?"
"Can we at least hold hands?"
Porchay giggles quietly and drops his hand over the edge of the bed, meeting Kimhan's cold hand almost immediately.
"So cold..." Porchay notes. And just like that, Kimhan's hand gets warmer, and Kimhan's touch, gentler.
"I'm sorry," Kimhan whispers, "I usually let the snow flow through my veins whenever we aren't touching."
"Umm... yes, something has to keep your frozen heart alive," Porchay teases.
