As You Wish

October

They had been planning it for weeks - their escape - yet when it happened, it arrived utterly unexpectedly for them both.

The day was misty. A dramatic edge of lurking mystery to it even before the attack.

Gulf had wai-ed his usual daily thanks to Aunty Hansa as the older woman turned to climb the staircase, the two men left alone as usual.

But as they eased into their familiar, intimate manner of conversing - the prince with his back to the other as he dipped a toe into the bathtub to test the water's temperature in advance of commencing undressing the clothes he wore against the cooler weather - he heard a sudden thud and groan from Mew.

Pivoting around, Gulf had no time to react as a sharp, glinting object whistled through the air, millimetres from his ear. Then there were heavy blows being exchanged between the uniformed Mew and an unidentified imposter, as Gulf cried out "No!", upon registering the dagger lodged in his lover's side.

Blood was seeping through his clothes - only the wetness visible upon the dark fabric - and Gulf could hear Mew's stilted breaths and pained grunts as he fought on to defend his prince, every ounce of his martial arts expertise weighing in to keep him in the fight.

Then suddenly his opponent was staggering giddily - Gulf revealed behind him, wide-eyed and brandishing a bloodied, carved wooden duck in his raised fists.

And before the anonymous would-be-assassin could recover from the most peculiar blow, he was being dragged back against the wounded body of the bathtime guard, spun outwards to face the prince he came to kill, and his throat fatally slit in one deft movement.

A lifeless body slumped to the flagstoned floor beside the bathtub. A red pool of blood collecting amidst the swirling mist. Two heavy-breathing young men that fell into one another's arms - raining kisses and 'I love yous'. Both were crying - one because he hated to take a life, but would do so unhesitatingly for the man he loved, and the other because he was trembling with shock, and close to despair at the knife embedded in the flesh of his world.

"Shhh Gulf, it's ok. I'm ok, look...", Mew kissed the prince's tearful eyes and then reached to pull the weapon from his own body, with an unintentional whimper and a gritting of the teeth.

"It's just a flesh wound tua-aeng. Another scar for my collection"

And Gulf embraced him then - his world - as if he was the whole world. Because that's what he was to him.

"You were a mightily impressive warrior yourself back there, my prince", Mew breathed lovingly, shakily, against his shoulder, before: "Who knew a wooden duck would save my life one day...?"

They chuckled together, as they pulled apart to sit, rocking in unison on the floor. Because what else was there to do, given the circumstances?

And it wasn't until many moments afterwards that the prince's voice spoke out again - steadier then, and purposeful suddenly - saying:

"Doesn't this look familiar?"

"Hmmm...You mean the story. The folk story about Prince Thong Kon?"

The deserted water of the bathtub. The puddle of red on the floor beside it.

A thoughtful nod - both surveying the scene then - gear cogs whirring until all clicked together at the same time and the two men rushed out in exhilarated unison:

"Let's go!..."

So that was how it happened.

Working swiftly and silently: Mew positioned his own bloodstained dagger on the flagstones beside the fallen man. Gulf trailed his white towelled gown through the pool of blood, using the assassin's thrown knife to tear gashes in the material. They combined their strength to overturn the bath tub onto its side - a metallic clang resounding as still-warm bubbly water riveted across the ground and flowed with unstoppable gravity to cascade in trickles down towards the stream below.

Then - satisfied that the scene was sufficiently convincing that onrushers in the moments to come would believe that they had both been kidnapped, gravely injured and were quite possibly dead - Mew reached for Gulf's hand to pull him urgently in the direction of their escape route.

But the prince shook his head decisively, saying, "One last thing..."

...As he released his hand from his guard's grasp and reached to methodically remove each of the six rings from the other's fingers, raising them one by one to his lips to kiss them before casting them forever away into the stream. Then - Mew looking on, dark eyes shining with unspoken emotion, hand trembling indiscernibly - Gulf pulled to untie the woven band that held his own wavy locks. And he was entwining it around Mew's finger, brushing his thumb across the elder man's cheek as he said:

"You only need one ring now thirak. It's not much. But it will do for present..."

"It's everything", Mew returned passionately, wholly, and they kissed - tongues thrusting against one another, open mouthed and messy, adrenaline surging with the thrill of the moment.

Then they were crossing the stream and disappearing into the bluebell woods - the prince turning one last time to look back at the palace, and seeing Aunty Hansa, a lone, smiling figure on the ridge above. He blew her a joyful kiss - she mimed zipping lips closed - and after one final, shared, loving smile, the elder woman turned back towards the palace, and Gulf towards Mew.

Mew, his future, and his freedom.