Chapter Text
The moon shone bright in the cloudless sky, lighting up the desert sands as far as the eye could see.
A lone horseman rode his way across the dunes to the fortified city gates. He was dressed in sandy white, his nose and mouth wrapped in cloth.
He handed a scroll to the guard at the gates, who read it with sharp eyes. The guard immediately stood at attention and saluted the rider.
"Let him in", shouted the guard. Heavy gears moved, and a small section of the gate swung inwards. The guard bowed to the horseman, who simply nodded and led his steed within.
"Welcome home, Captain Teepakorn", whispered the guard, with tears in his eyes.
*
Tine paused before knocking on the door. It was the dead of the night, and he did not want to startle the occupants of the house.
Just as he raised his knuckles, the door opened and two strong arms pulled him into a bear hug.
"It's good to have you back, Captain", said the man.
"It's good to be back, Major", said Tine, smiling at his brother's rare display of emotion.
Type stepped back to look at his brother properly.
"You don't look too shabby, all things considered" he chuckled.
Tine laughed and divested himself of his travelling robes. He removed his shirt and revealed a lean body decorated with scars.
He headed to the covered tank at a corner of the open courtyard and splashed water on his face. He wetted a clean cloth and slowly wiped the dust, grime and dried blood from his body.
Type's lips tightened when he saw the dark, serrated welts that defaced his brother's back. Whip lashes with hooks on the end. And the way Tine held his hands, one could see that his fingers had been broken and hadn't quite healed completely.
There were multiple cuts and small round burns across his face, chest, arms and legs. A long, thin scar ran across his stomach.
Tine had been subjected to brutal torture at the hands of the enemy.
Type was a battle hardened soldier. In their lifetime, the brothers had seen too many good men killed for the petty political ambitions of royal fools. They had no more tears left to shed.
But to know exactly how many slow-drawn, endless nights of pain that his brother had had to endure, broke his heart.
Tine had been captured nearly two years ago. He bore the marks of wounds healed and reopened again and again.
Type hoped the new king was worth his brother's sacrifice.
*
"Are you ready, Captain?" said the young Lieutenant, who was escorting him to the General's office.
Tine nodded. It felt strange to be dressed in his military uniform again.
The Lieutenant paused before opening the door for him. He bowed to Tine with his right fist placed over his heart, "It's an honor to have met you, Captain".
Tine bowed back and entered the General's office.
"Captain Teepakorn reporting for duty, sir" he said, looking straight ahead and standing at attention.
The General looked at the young man who stood before him. The man who'd been captured as a prisoner of war two years ago.
A war he wouldn't have won without the sacrifice of this man and more like him.
"At ease, Captain. I trust you've already debriefed Major Teepakorn?"
"Sir, yes sir"
"I will have to ask you to give a complete written statement of your capture and imprisonment to the Central Bureau. You will be required to share every single detail, no matter how hard or harrowing those recollections might be. Is that understood, Captain?"
"Sir, yes sir"
"Captain Thitipong will reach out to you tomorrow. I expect your full cooperation."
"Sir, yes sir"
"You're dismissed for the rest of the day, Captain. Go meet your family and friends. That's an order."
The General's eyes softened as he lowered his reserve and let himself feel like a tired, old man. He patted Tine on the shoulder.
"We missed you, son" he said in a sad, low voice.
"I missed you too, father" replied Tine with a small smile.
*
Tine entered the barracks. He could hear the shouts and clangs of swords in the practice arena at the back.
He made his way to where a crowd of soldiers had gathered around to watch the fight.
Two warriors were sparring in the centre. One twirled two gleaming scimitars in his hands and the other fought with a sword and a knife.
They were both naked to the waist and bore the scars of battle. War veterans.
"Give up already, Fong. You seem to be compensating for the small sword in your pants with the larger one in your hand" chuckled the soldier twirling the scimitars.
"If only your sickles were as sharp as your tongue, Ohm. You barely tickled me with that last parry", said Fong, a small cut on his arm oozing blood.
Tine shook his head and smiled. These idiots would never change.
"Am I going to see any real fighting or do I have to be content with just the sparring with words?" he called out.
Fong and Ohm froze at his voice and turned immediately to look where it came from. They threw their weapons and ran to hug Tine.
The new recruits were stunned to see their two most dreaded and dangerous Captains weeping openly.
They were even more stunned when every soldier in the barracks came out to the arena and bowed low, their right fists on their hearts.
It was the highest mark of respect in the army.
"Welcome home, Captain" they chanted in unison.
*
Fong, Ohm and Tine sat at a bar favoured by the soldiers for its cheap but potent ale.
They drank and chitchatted lightly, not wanting to speak of the horrors they'd all endured during and since the war.
"Has anyone managed to make an honest man out of either of you jokers?" asked Tine.
"One would have to be deaf and blind to like any of us, and ours is a blessed nation with none who fits the bill" snorted Fong.
"Phuak's become a writer" said Ohm.
"He's started what he calls "a plog" where he records unusual stories, anecdotes, experiences, even inedible recipes on endless scrolls of parchment" chuckled Fong.
Tine laughed."I'll meet him tomorrow"
They drank in silence again.
Fong hesitated slightly, then asked in a low voice, "Have you seen him yet? Our new king?"
Tine paused and shook his head.
The king he had spent two years being tortured for.
"If it's any comfort to you, he's been a good king so far. He's strict but fair, knows when to say yes and more importantly when to say no. He's done more for the country in two years than others have done in twenty", said Ohm, downing his drink.
Tine smiled "It is of great comfort indeed, knowing that" he said and patted Ohm's back.
Fong and Ohm knew him better than anyone else. They were his brothers on the field and off it. Their unbreakable bond was forged in the fires of war.
Tine wondered if the king knew or cared that he was back.
*
Tine's reunion with his mother had been heart-rending and joyous at the same time.
Diane Opas-Teepakorn was a renowned diplomat and master negotiator. She was respected and feared in equal measure. Her network of spies was far-spread and untraceable, their information detailed and accurate. She held the stability and futures of several neighbouring nations in her hands.
She had worked tirelessly since the day Tine was captured, to secure his return. Despite her best efforts, it took her more than a year and a half to find him. And several more months to negotiate his return.
She broke down when she finally saw him.
She held him close, not wanting to let go. Her heaving sobs parched her throat, and her tears flowed freely.
She ran her hands repeatedly over his face, tracing the scars, not wanting to imagine the hell he'd been through.
Tine hugged her tightly and whispered "Thank you for bringing me back, ma".
In his darkest hours, his only comfort had been the unwavering belief that his mother would find him, one way or the other. Alive or dead, she would bring him home. She wouldn't let him stay lost or buried in an unmarked grave in a foreign land.
"Come, I've made you all your favourite dishes. I'm going to fatten you up, you're all skin and bones", she said briskly, wiping away her tears.
Behind her, his father waited to welcome him properly like a parent, and not as General Teepakorn, Chief of the Army.
Tine smiled. He had extraordinary parents.
*
Late that night, Tine walked alone along the banks of the canal. He needed space away from other people, as loving and well-meaning as they were.
He didn't want them to hear the screams that threatened to spill out of his mouth, or see him scratching his skin till it bled to stop the crawling feeling from within, or see the haunted, vacant, dead look in his eyes that he had kept masked since his return.
The long, endless hours of torture had left their indelible mark on his mind as much as his body.
It was only his own immense willpower and the strength inherited from his parents that kept him from becoming a hollow shell of a man.
But he needed time alone to meditate, to allow himself to recover and readjust to life outside the torture chamber.
He counted the embankment pillars as he walked, and at the twenty third pillar he stopped. His fingers felt for a slight recess in the stones that made up the pillar, only someone who knew what they were looking for could find it.
He found the slight, shallow depression and pressed hard with his thumb. The stone popped out. He pushed it to the left and back in.
A small space appeared in the embankment wall, wide enough for only one person. Tine slipped in and sealed the opening behind him.
He lit the small torch he'd brought with him and made his way down the narrow sloping corridor. It led deep under the canal.
A few minutes later, Tine emerged into an underground cave, formed millennia ago when the desert was not a desert yet.
It was a secret known only to a handful of military elite corp members. It was where the royal family was to be hidden if the city fell. There was a passage that led out of this cave to the other side of the canal.
Tine fixed the torch in a bracket. The bare stone walls, the dank air and the hard rock beneath his feet reminded him of his prison cell.
He felt more at home here than at home.
He sat down and settled himself in the lotus position. His long hours of meditation had kept him sane through the dark days that he lay broken and beaten in his tiny cell.
He closed his eyes and emptied his mind, pushing out the darkness and the pain. He immersed himself in his favourite memory, the scene playing itself out as though he were actually in it.
An oasis, with a deep blue, shimmering lake. A grove of olive trees, the silvery green branches laden with fruit. The smell of citrus in the air. And a warm laughing voice calling his name.
"Come join me in the water, Tine. We don't know when we will ever get a chance like this again"
A lithe, lean body, water droplets glittering on tanned skin. Dark hair, dark eyes, red lips, a wide, smiling mouth. Perfect features, as though chiselled from marble.
"Tine, don't just stand there"
A handful of water playfully splashed on his face, the coolness of it driving his exhaustion away.
A hand held out, "Come in, Tine. We may never do this again".
A smile lighting up that beautiful face that he loved so dearly as he stepped into the water.
"Tine"
He heard the voice clearer than he ever had in a very long time.
He slowly opened his eyes, half waking from the bubble he had created to shield his mind.
Reality and memory bled into each other. He could see the face that he loved before him.
Except that it looked different now.
It was hardened, scarred and unsmiling.
Tine realized with a jolt that he was not alone anymore.
The man he loved was in the cave with him.
Tine stood up and bowed deeply, "Your Majesty".
King Sarawat, the First of his name, Emperor of Aria, stood before him.