Chapter Text
“Please give me a chance to do things right.” Phuwin whispered softly as he lay frozen on his bedroom floor, blood slowly trickling out of his mouth as he felt his breath shorten - a sign that his end was closer than he’d hoped.
Around him, his room remained untouched, still as pristine as the maids had left it that morning. Looking at it now, the grand decor was a stark contrast to the broken man clutching his blood-soaked stomach. The carpet, once smooth under his feet, was now stained red.
What a shame. His blood would ruin the carpet.
He let out a pained moan when he tried to move. Honestly, if he still had the energy he would have let out a good laugh — stabbed by the man he had chosen to trust with his life and with his kingdom. Surely, the irony was in there somewhere.
He had chosen Kluen himself. Believed he had known him as much as anyone, believed that they would rule as his parents had before them — as equals.
However, as he was finding out right before his death, he was wrong about most things. Kluen especially.
At that moment of wondering about the what ifs, his eyes caught sight of the majestic arrangement of flowers sitting prettily on his desk. The vase held an assortment of blooms, collected from different parts of the city. There was one other thing he had been wrong about.
Or rather, a person.
He fondly remembered the eyes of the man who had given them to him. Orbs that were ice cold, and yet, they somehow held the warmth he had long been yearning for. The man handed the bouquet to him, muttering something about wanting him to see the world even within the confines of the palace walls. He could tell that there was no ill-intent, unlike when he was younger when those words would have kept him up all night wondering if he was being insulted. His younger self would seethe at the thought that the man had possibly called him a sheltered prince. But he now knows better. The general speaks his mind and means exactly what his words are meant to say.
He simply wanted Phuwin to have a taste of the world he missed dearly and he said so himself.
His husband had thrown a fit about them. More so when he learned about who had given it to him. Of course he had and Phuwin was only barely able to save the precious flowers from the carnage of his jealousy. He was sure there was a seething scar on his shoulder as a reminder but he could care less. The flowers were, after all, the last rays of happiness he desperately needed and a few blemishes on his skin was a price he was more than willing to pay to keep them beautiful. But alas, he was probably a bit too optimistic.
It was over. For him now and for his people soon enough if Kluen was to rule.
He could only hope that someone would end his husband soon after he had ended him. At the very least, the people would be free from a monarch who only had his personal interest at heart.
“Your highness-” The call came from his door, quiet at first, like whoever was calling was doing it in secret. However, the call came again, louder this time, and Phuwin had wished for the strength to answer.
If he was to die today, he would have at least liked to go after seeing an old friend. Even if they didn’t begin as one . And if only to scold him about calling him that after he told him countless times that he did not have to.
“Pond-” He knew his voice was weak, softened by the blow to his stomach. But his general was a man cut above the rest. He knew that if anyone could hear him and his final plea, it would be him, the man who swore to protect him with his life.
The door slammed open with force and within seconds Phuwin felt himself wrapped in warmth, larger hands covering his own blood-soaked fingers and a familiar face finally within his sight.
Pond was known throughout the kingdom for the way he carried himself. He was born and raised to be a soldier, mask not cracking even at the toughest battles. However, Phuwin saw that mask break for the first time today. Perhaps seeing your bloodied king would do that to you.
“Your highness!” The general was frantically lifting the king up in his arms as quickly as he could, ready to bolt out of the door at any second. But Phuwin stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But-”
“I am dying. All I want is to talk to a friend.”
Pond’s face darkened. “Phu-”
“It’s alright. Even if you could get me to someone who would help, it will be too late. He’s been poisoning me for quite a while apparently.” Phuwin coughed through a wry laugh. “Ever since the wedding. It’s too late. Let me go. Please.”
The young king stared at the general before slowly closing his eyes. His life may have gone down in the worst way but at the very least he was content that his dying wish of having a friend by his side was fulfilled.
—
“Your highness?” Phuwin groaned, feeling like his head had been hit hard repeatedly by something strong. His body was fatigued, probably the remnants of the poison and his many other injuries hidden inside his clothes. That thought stopped him, why was he still feeling pain? “Your highness, are you awake?”
And who was calling him Your Highness in death. Surely, titles like that shouldn’t matter now after everything that happened.
He cracks his eyes open and his brain immediately registers that something was definitely wrong. For one, he was lying comfortably on his four poster bed, his room sprawled around him looking like it did four years ago, and Fourth was standing by his bedside watching him curiously.
Fourth? Was Fourth really right there?
In an instant, tears welled up in his eyes at the sight of his oldest and dearest friend. He had not seen him since he was dragged out of the palace after Kluen accused him of betraying the crown. Phuwin never believed a word he said but it proved difficult to find evidence of his innocence. Not when Kluen — the king consort himself — said he had seen it with his own eyes.
What happened to him after, he had no clue. He tried to search for him high and low, and had even asked Pond if he could find Fourth for him, but his friend remained a ghost. He merely consoled himself with the thought that he didn't hear of his death and that there was a chance his friend was living a better life outside the palace. He knew these were foolish thoughts for a king who did not even have the power to find his friend.
Oh no. If they were meeting here, after his death, does that mean - ?
“Your highness, are you alright?” Fourth asked, panic in his voice as the prince hurriedly got out of bed to pull him into a hug. “Phu?”
That had further broken the prince, Phuwin did not even remember the last time he heard his friend call him by that name. “You’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” Fourth asked with a light chuckle, unsure about what was going on and why his friend was behaving weirdly that morning. “Why are you crying? Are you worried about the selection? I thought you had your sights set on Kluen-”
Phuwin tensed at the mention of that name, letting his friend breathe when he finally pulled away from the hug. That name — the mere mention of it made his blood boil. So much so that hearing Fourth say it so casually confused him more than anything. “Kluen? What is Kluen doing here?”
Fourth looked at him like he had grown two heads or had done something equally as strange. “Your father called for him and for the others yesterday. Kluen arrived with your other potential matches but I hear that the general just arrived this morning. He’s probably wondering why he was called on in the first place.” The younger man’s laugh was cut short when Phuwin’s face turned soft.
“Pond is here.” Phuwin muttered to himself, eyes widening when Fourth held him by his shoulders. “What?”
“Pond?” Fourth asked, voice a tad higher. “Since when have you called the general by his name?”
“Since - wait.” Phuwin paused, his brain finally catching up with whatever was happening right at that very moment. “What day is today Fourth?”
“Phu, it’s your selection day. Surely, you haven’t already forgotten."
His selection day.
“My selection day?” Hadn’t that been almost five years ago? Had he not chosen Kluen? All these thoughts were running amok in his head. Was he in a dream or was he - ? No. Was that even possible?
“Yes, you are supposed to choose your husband in a few hours.” Fourth smiled at his friends’ reaction. Sometimes, it was too easy to forget that the Phuwin he had known since childhood was the same one who would one day rule their kingdom. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright Phu? Did you get enough rest?”
Phuwin let out a short breath, once more taking in his surroundings and the face of a friend he thought he would never see again. “Am I dreaming?”
“What-?”
“Ow!” Phuwin jerked his hand away from a giggling Fourth. “What did you do that for?”
“You did ask me if you were dreaming. I had to make sure your head was out of the clouds before I got you ready for your special day. So, what do you say?”
If he wasn’t dreaming and if this wasn’t any sort of illusion. Then, that just meant -
“I’m ready.”
He was going to change his fate.
END OF CHAPTER 1.