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The war of the heart can never be decidedly won.

I remember when it all started. My father was King of a land called Pekka, a place bordered on the north and west by high mountain ranges flowing with as much metal as fresh water. I was his prince, though he showed no sign of handing rule over to me - and, honestly, I didn't want it. I never did. He stood six foot six, easily, and I'd seen him pick up a man by his throat and throw him just as far. I'd always been little more than Vaska, charcoal-grey wolf prince of Pekka, and I'd always been content to stay just that.

Through all my life, we'd had troubles with the neighboring land of Ovemia, out of which came lions, jaguars, panthers, tigers. There's the story of Scheherazade, wrongly exiled lioness queen who took her land back by force, and every ruler since then has been almost as strong. Royal lineage had shifted, or changed somehow, so that now a cheetah rather than lion holds the throne... and, oh, they're a cunning sort. Either they find a way into your borders without your knowledge, or they find a way into your heart (and pants) without your knowledge. Father's main concerns were of the reports of raided merchants that seemed to happen every season, regardless of agreements arranged. Rumors were, Ovemia sought to enter war with us due to our strict limits on trade - we were one of the only lands willing, and really able, to supply such an amount of vital iron and steel to them, and as such, charged higher rates. This didn't make sense to me - why would they attack the land that gives them material to arm their soldiers? - but, then, politics rarely did.

"Bring them to me," Father said one day, after we had been brought news of another raided caravan. He was a wolf that had one hell of a temper. To him, everyone is untrustworthy until proven otherwise, time and time again. Generally, I tried to stay out of his political meetings and discussions, but a few weeks later when the Ovemian entourage arrived, he demanded I sit beside him, as King Alhaz's son the Lord Prince - 'Lord Prince?' I asked; 'Yes,' Father replied, 'because he is the eldest among a handful of spawn' - would be present, and of course, my father wouldn't have his honor shown up by 'a bunch of dirty cats'.

I was nervous. I'd never attended anything demanded of my position as heir to the throne. Father had tried a few times, but he recognized his youth as well as I did, and the futility of preparing me for responsibilities I likely wouldn't take on for several decades to come. There was always the chance, though, and I 'needed to see how politics works', so he had the servants dress me in graphite-toned finery embellished with silver thread that complemented my fur and eye color. The morning came, and brought with it a gentle fog, not uncommon around this time of year. I just wanted to get the thing over with; how long could I bear talks of methods and preventions, of taxes and tariffs, tributes and merchants and goods and payments-

We were sat at a long table in a hallway off from the grand hall, with each king, queen, and heir prince seated at opposite ends so as to be forced to look one another in the eye. I tried to offer what input I could, but I always found my statements hopelessly defended by my father and then put down by King Alhaz. About an hour into the meeting, I'd grown exhausted of the talks, as expected, and I said - a bit dismissively:

"Why don't we post guards on the roads at the border to ensure the goods are still intact when being transferred between lands? That way, provided we have honest merchants, we can pinpoint in whose realm the raids occur."

"That would only foster the negative views of the other government to the people." The Lord Prince lounged back in his seat as he spoke, and Alhaz had one ear turned to him and a smirk on his face. "Believe it or not, your land and mine both wish to avoid conflict, but anything that happens is always blamed on the other. Guards could be both beneficial or detrimental: if the merchants reach the checkpoint but are then raided by bandits, you will still blame us. Could laws bind outlaws, it wouldn't be a problem."

By the gods, his voice...! I hadn't paid the Lord Prince of Ovemia much attention before, but - he spoke with a lyrical lilt hinting at his fluency in another language, and... and the quality, the timbre of that voice, seemed to me to be infinitely smooth, more so than the surface of ice. I was captivated, from the very start.

"True, but it is a good idea, nonetheless," added Alhaz; perhaps he, too, tired of the debates. The trek from their capital city to ours is lengthy, and these talks are likely equally tiring.

"Apologies, King Alhaz-" My father suddenly rose to his feet. The other king remained seated, watching him with sharp eyes. "We must continue the talks tomorrow. Midmorning is coming 'round, and I must attend to my people. Please enjoy yourselves while you are here. I have instructed the servants to treat you with the respect you deserve, and to serve you as if you are of our own family. I wish you a good day."

He really did have things to attend to - Pekka had never been a calm land. The people of the kingdom of Sailo, far down at the southern peninsula of the continent, had learned to govern themselves after so long under a delinquent and absent royalty, and Father prided himself on not being such a failure. He'd always been a proud man.

Having not eaten before the meeting, I found myself hungry, but it was already too close to lunch that a true meal would limit me then. Pekka's climate remained very mild for three of four seasons, and as such, always provided suitable for a wide array of growing - and, oh, I loved the apples my mother the Queen grew in her private garden. Another hour or so later, I left the kitchen with three in my arms, one for now and two for later-

"Vaska."

When I turned around to face the voice, Mother came floating out of the kitchen, like a wisp of steam carried on a gentle breeze. She had always been softspoken and shy, and I often wondered how she and my father worked so well together; I would doubt her to be my true mother on the basis of the drastic difference between her powder snow fur and my dark grey, but we shared the same luminous silver eyes. "Yes, Mother?"

She smiled a sweet smile, and produced from behind her back another apple. "Take one to Blue."

"Blue?"

"Your guest the Lord Prince. That young cheetah with the marvelous eyes. After all, friendly relations provide a strong structure for friendly alliances."

I could only wish that her smooth voice and ease with words would carry over to me - so far, I had my father's heavy tone and almost brutish manner. Perhaps grace is something to be learned, but not to be taught. Her fingers grazed over mine when she handed me the fruit. "Yes, Mother."

"Down the hall, guest quarters on the left. I went in and spoke briefly with him - he is an intelligent cat, and clever, too. You'll like him."

I returned her smile, and then, she floated back off to do whatever it was she had to do. Often she spent her time weaving or fixing tapestries for the grand hall, or mending clothing - Father would tell her to leave that to the servants, but she enjoyed it - as any other mother busied herself. It's not that she tried to avoid the responsibilities of being queen, but rather, those responsibilities just coursed around her, river water around a large stone.

Balancing the four apples in my arms proved to be challenging, especially when moving; I almost dropped them twice even before I had reached the correct hallway. When I had made my way to the door, I stuck out my foot to knock-

"One moment," called that delicious voice, followed by the quiet rustling of fabric. A moment later, the door opened, and - and I looked into the purest of blue eyes I'd ever seen, the truly 'marvelous eyes' my mother had mentioned. Pools of cool, molten azurite, the deepest, deepest blue - deeper than the trenches of the oceans and all their mysteries. I'd seen eyes of jade, eyes of amber, but never eyes of such a ponderous shade...

I found that I could not speak. My mouth opened and tried to form words, but none came out - and then one of the apples wobbled, toppled, fell out of my arms. The cheetah prince - Blue, his name was? - bent over and managed to catch it just before it met the ground. When he straightened back up, his whiskers (that's another thing about cats, and otters, too, which are essentially just river kittens: their whiskers and their ability to reach out and tickle everything) brushed against my muzzle, causing me to stumble backwards and almost drop the other apples.

"...You were at the meeting, were you not?" he said, apple still in his paw. He looked it over.

"Y...yes. I was."

"Yes, you brought up the idea of the guards. I don't think I ever caught your name."

"Vaska."

"Ah. Vaska..." A glint twinkled in his eyes. "The name of the two deities of love."

"Yes." In the mythology of the land, the deity presiding over and representing love was actually two: a male and a female otter, the masculinity of the feminine, and the femininity of the masculine, for we must first learn to accept someone fully before we can love them.

"So. Vaska - Prince Vaska, yes? - would you like to come in?"

"Yes. Please."

"After you." He stepped to the side but still remained in the threshold of the door, so that I could do nothing but brush by him when I did enter. I'd never had any reason to step into the guest quarters before, as again, this was the first time that Father demanded my involvement, but I was pleasantly relieved to learn that it looked like any other room in the palace after a good cleaning. Save for the gentle aroma of sand and spice in the air, were I to have wandered in on my own, I wouldn't have thought this room belonged to anyone.

The crunch of the apple as he bit into it brought me back to the present, and I looked back at him. His tail flicked. "...You did bring this for me, right?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Oh, alright. Those... aren't all for me, are they?"

I'd almost forgotten about the little weights in my arms, for the... captivating effect the ghostly presence of his scent had. "Oh - well... if you wish..."

"I don't mean to be an intrusion."

"No, no, don't worry about it! I..." A bit awkwardly, I sat down on the edge of the bed and rested the apples, one by one, beside me. "...came by to... to get to know you. After all, ah - friendly... er, friends make alliances."

"Oh, gods, don't tell me you came to blather more about dull politics. I can watch a play for two hours and be content, but ten minutes of 'exports' this and 'taxes' that, and I'm ready to climb into bed and go back to sleep."

"Oh! That was dreadful for you, too?"

"If by 'dreadful' you mean I would rather die, then yes. However..." He sat down in a chair against the wall and folded one leg over his other. His long tail stirred behind him idly, a serpent of white gold streaked here and there with onyx. "You seem a fair enough sort, Prince Vaska. I'm glad you came by - this is delicious, by the way. Where I come from, we can only grow seventeen different kinds of grain and three tubers. All our fruits are imported."

"My mother grew them." Really, I did only come by to give him the apple, but... I don't want to leave.

"Ah! The Queen. Beautiful woman, your mother - she came by earlier, and we spoke briefly. Good to see the prince of this land takes after his mother..."

"Hm? What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." Another crunch filled the room; a moment later, his little pink tongue flitted out against his lips to catch a stray chunk. Just... the way he held himself, the way he spoke, how his ears constantly turned and changed direction, though his face - outlined and accentuated by his markings - displayed nothing but absolute calm and cool relaxation. Oh, how I wished I could be like him. I feel that if this were to be the other way around and we had travelled to Ovemia, I'd be too nervous to even show up to the meeting. "Tell me, Vaska: are you engaged?"

"I... what?"

"You do have marriage here, right? Engagement?"

There's that goddamned smirk again, the one that he inherited from his father but looked so much better on his muzzle. I swear, if it didn't ignite such a hot little flame in my chest... "Yes, we do. And no. I am not. Mother has expressed that I am to marry who I wish, but Father says that, if circumstances demand it, I will marry someone else."

"Circumstances indeed might."

"I thought you said you wished to not speak of politics."

"Politics! We are speaking of marriage! I only wish to say, you may find yourself in a few years sitting beside a cheetah, matching rings on your fingers and crowns adorning your heads." After turning the apple to an unblemished side, he leaned in to take another bite. For a quick moment, his tongue flashed pink against the red skin of the fruit. "To my current judgment, I don't suspect you'd have much of a problem with that. Would you?"

"I-" Oh, Gods, had he noticed my roaming eyes, or admiring gaze? Was there something in my voice or body language that gave it away...?

"Mhmm. I saw the way you reacted after I spoke today. Ears perked, posture straightened, eyes focused on me. Speaking of which, that's something you should work on. My father and I both recognized how little attention you paid. And it's quite obvious when something - someone - does catch your attention..."

Finer than any flower upon which my eyes have ever fallen - "I... apologies, Blue, I must go." I stood to leave, but-

-he met me at the door, half-eaten apple in one paw. He leaned in the threshold, blocking my exit. I could do nothing but stand there. "So soon? You just got here. All I know about you is your name..." he took a step towards me and placed one clawed finger against the middle of my chest. "...where you get your facial structure from, your ears, your... steel eyes..."

"-Blue, I don't think y-" My breath caught in my throat. He'd backed me up against a wall.

"Was I taking a risk, venturing all of this?" Dark blue eyes flitted back and forth between mine. "Well. Yes. But you haven't clawed me across the face - see this, under my eye? That's from the son of a minor count back home - so, may I guess... my intuitions are correct?"

It... it was like talking with a fox, and an exceptionally intelligent one, at that. I could feel the blush burning my cheeks before the arch of Blue's brow verified it, and his proximity to me, his wonderful closeness... I could feel the heat radiating off his body, did little to banish that blush. "Lord Prince-"

That finger moved up to my lips. "My name is Blue. See these eyes?" Rich azurite- "Blue."

"Blue..."

Hot breath on my face, tickling the fur of my muzzle, along with his whiskers. By the gods - was this what raw desire felt like...? I wanted to run my paws up his sides under his shirt, wanted him to press me harder against this wall, to set those sharp little teeth of his onto my neck-

"Blue!"

"Yes, Father?" He turned one ear towards the open door, where Alhaz's voice had come from.

"Could you come here and help me with your mother?"

"I'll be right there." He lowered his voice to where it was little more than a whisper. A faint hint of fresh apple spiced his breath. "as for you, Vaska... I will see you at the meeting tomorrow. Tell the Queen thanks for the apple."

And, then, he was gone out of the room and down the hall, as silent as any other cat. The weight and warmth holding me it the wall had lifted, and in its place left a pulsing want in my chest, the kindling of a great flame that he knew just how to ignite.

I had to take a moment to catch my breath and allow my heartbeat to return to normal before stepping back into the hallway.

~ ~ ~

Whatever it was that Alhaz needed his son for, it removed him from the palace, for I could not find a trace of him anywhere. I managed to track Mother down later in the day, and passed on the cheetah's thanks; she wagged a little and mentioned under her breath that she might send a basket home with them. She asked, then, how my visit with the Lord Prince went, but... I was distracted. If things went well the following morning, they'd leave, and then - who knew how long it would be before I could see Blue again, before I could again feel his claws in my fur, his breath on my face, his body against mine? Mother might have noticed my change in disposition and soon drifted off again, saying something about how she'd help the servants cook dinner tonight, as 'cheetahs like fish, don't they...? Vaska, can you find out his favorite food?' I nodded, though knew I wouldn't be able to.

They weren't present at dinner. Father complained about it being disrespectful, among a whole slew of other distasteful words, but Mother managed to calm him down by explaining that the Queen had a caught something on the journey and felt ill. Father understood that: when he and Mother were called to the continent's capital for his coronation by the Emperor, she also fell ill. He grunted something about wishing her well (being both a wolf and a king, Father would prefer to sooner swallow poison than his pride).

After eating, I found myself oddly tired, and decided to retire to my quarters for the night. Something bumped against my foot when I stepped in, startling me - I had to put a paw out to the wall to catch myself against falling, and saw an apple roll across the floor. Two more rested beside where that one had originally been, neatly lined up against the door when it had been closed. I must have left those in Blue's this morning - ah, just like me to start doing something and then forget about it right after...

The blankets yielded little warmth to my body, and sleep seemed to put effort into evading me. Finally, though, the sweet darkness enveloped me, and brought with it dreams of a lithe feline body, moving and twisting - dancing, teasing - nude-

The scents, the tastes, the feelings all disappeared when a gentle knock awakened me the next morning.

"Vaska, dear..." Mother's voice sounded to me like the song of a bird, carried on gentle winds. "The meeting starts soon. Your father wants you there again."

Oh, and I wanted to be there. Maybe I could actually offer useful advice or input, or actually contribute to the discussion. And, besides - Blue would be there, across the table...

...but, of course, things like that are dreadfully easy to wish and dreadfully hard to execute. I could not remain involved in the discussion, no matter how much I tried; Father and Alhaz constructed a labyrinth around me with their words and talks, and after so long of searching for a way out, I simply gave up. Blue, so far away but still well aware of the gravity he held over me, flicked an ear or met my eyes for a few quick moments between the discussions, but-

"Vaska?"

My leg bumped against the table, and I cursed under my breath. "Yes, Father?"

"What do you think?"

Oh, gods. The cheetah across the table gave me another of his smirks. "Um... what?"

"Your suggestion yesterday - about posting guards at routes between lands. We've been discussing other options, and yours does have its setbacks - mentioned by Prince Blue - but it might be the best. What, exactly, were your thoughts on the matter?"

And so, I found myself drawn again into the meat of the political discussion. It was like trying to navigate an ocean with a faulty compass: there are indeed ways to do it successfully, but those ways must be learned first. My absentmindedness upset Father a bit - this I could tell in the curl of his lip, the rigidity of his posture, how he traced a claw in a rut dug into the arm of his chair after so many stressful times. In a way, I found myself caught between wanting the meeting to end, for obvious reasons, and not wanting it to end, because again, Blue would leave, and I'd lose him amid the grasses of Ovemia, as tall as a man...

Father and Alhaz eventually came to agree on a plan very similar to that idea I had thrown out the previous day, just to say something; the cheetah mentioned that he will put the measures into effect as soon as he can, and Father wished them a safe journey. I could see in his eyes that he was glad to finally be rid of these 'dirty, smelly cats'. He mentioned their departure three times within a few minutes following the meeting's closure.

I, however, tried to remember the way to the guest quarters before Alhaz took my father's thinly veiled 'I don't want you here', after Father pulled me off to the side after the meeting and lectured me on how it's vital that I pay attention to what is happening in this nation as well as the world, and how I need to observe the way that grown, educated men deal with large-scale real-world problems, and... some other things he'd said before, I don't know. Something about how, if war does break out ('gods forbid, because we all know we'd destroy those housecats in combat'), the only way to solve things will be to marry me to one of the royal family of Ovemia. As much as Father would like, we couldn't afford to crush the nation - due to its central location in Veremia, the continent, the goods we send reach essentially all populations that we otherwise wouldn't be able to, and I've heard him express quite a bit of distaste about how our people so value and desire Ovemian craftsmanship, in their clothing and jewelry...

He'd never liked those cats. Mother and I both recognized very well that war would eventually come, as he desired it, truthfully. He wanted a reason to attack Ovemia. It was just a matter of making it look like an inevitable turn of events.

The door to Blue's room opened just as I reached it. He stepped out, one bag slung over his shoulder, and turned back to close the door - but then turned huge, startled kitten eyes to me as I approached-

-and pressed him into the wall, holding his muzzle to mine, lips locking firmly with his. He made a little sound, a little grunt, or exhalation of breath, or something - I don't know - before he placed his paws, a little timidly at first, on my sides. Warm pads, soft fur... he moved them up my back, pressing in in such a way that made me arch forward and against him, and he pressed back against me...

By the gods, I wanted him. Just one night, please...

"Don't leave, Blue."

"I must." It was clear that he tried to maintain his composure, but his splayed ears and twitching tail - for it tickled against my leg - belied the similarly chaotic state of his mind.

"I don't want you to."

"Vaska - I must. My mother is ill, and it is clear your father does not value our presence. He is a terribly arrogant and overconfident man, and - really, my father wishes to depart immediately..."

"Wait. Wait-" I must give him something, something to remember me by-

"I can't. I can't Vaska. I'm sorry. They're waiting for me."

Here, now, I could see the heart of the cat. Yesterday, he showed me his confident, clever exterior, but now - now that separation threatened to burden us both so much - that exterior, that skin, shrivelled back to show me who he really was, this Lord Prince Blue. For those like us, love was hard in this time: Vaska - the deity, not I - and their teachings declared that homosexuality be on equal consideration as any other love, for love is still love, but for heirs to a throne, it's different. Oh, it's much different.

The soft taste of cheetah lingered on my tongue...

His paw took mine, squeezed, fell away. "Farewell, Prince Vaska."

I looked into the ocean trenches, and saw there indescribably beauty. "Farewell, Lord Prince Blue."

He looked back once more before turning the corner, but then continued on before I could say anything. His ears were down. I didn't know whether to feel awed or terrified that someone could have such an impact on me, my heart, my mind, after such a short time spent together.

It didn't fully set in until a few days later, the truth of our separation. At first, I thought I could get by, but night after night of only getting to sleep when the sun hovered halfway above the horizon, of fleeting dreams of a body, a face, a voice I wanted but could not have. That cheetah prince had swiped my heart from my chest and carried it away with him, and I'd been near him for a total of maybe... twelve minutes, if that?

His scent, his aroma, even to my canid nose faint to begin with, quickly faded in entirety from the room in which he had stayed. I had to busy myself with the petty concerns of the people that Father saw himself as being above, and even some of the greater matters. Really, the game of politics isn't so droll once you take the time to observe it from all angles, to learn all the rules and all the loopholes. It's time I'd rather spend doing other things, but...

The new measures appeared to be working for the most part, although reports started trickling in, sometimes from concerned citizens passing on rumors, sometimes from witnesses, sometimes from the battered merchants themselves, about traders crossing the river that served as a border just fine and then being raided very early into Ovemian territory.

"How can that be?" Father asked one group of arms peddlers who had returned mostly intact - the speaker of the group had had the lower half of his left arm chopped off, not at the elbow, but halfway along the forearm. Whoever had done it had held him down and deliberately inflicted the wound. "Are Alhaz's guards absent fools?"

"Well, my lord..." The merchant cradled his wounded arm, wrapped up in bandages. He looked back at the others for support. "It... was the guards."

Father had his forehead propped up against his fist, but opened one citrine eye when he heard this. Suddenly, I felt an extreme desire to be anywhere except in the same room as him. "...What?"

"My lord, th-"

"Speak up!"

"We were attacked by the guards. Yes - the guards that stood a few miles into the border! They asked to inspect our goods, which we agreed to, and - and then they drew their blades..."

The merchant trailed off. I looked between him and Father, who dug his claws into his palm, he squeezed his fist so tight. After a moment, he turned his burning gaze on another of the merchants. "Can you verify this?"

She only nodded. "Took everything. Our goods, our money, our food-"

"Get out of here."

They glanced up, startled, and then started to shuffle out. "Father," I said, a bit quietly, "don't you think you should offer them-"

"I'll offer Alhaz my fist. Or a goddamn blade... this is unacceptable."

"Father - my lord-" I'd learned that, at times like this, he needed to be reminded of his title and position. His outbursts still frightened me to no end, but I'd learned to handle them a little better. "I could arrange for an emissary to-"

"No. No - we will go ourselves."

"I... excuse me?"

"Those damn cats - Vaska, find - I don't know, five, six guards. The best we have."

"Sir, when Alhaz visited, they... had no guards. You said it was an expression of honor and trust - that they would enter our land with no defenses. Why should we-"

"Because I neither trust them nor believe them deserving of honor. Not after they've gone back on their word so many times."

"Father..." I knew to try to argue with him was pointless. Complaints from the people would sometimes come to me as 'he's looking to start a fight with them' - but, never to his face, of course. Hell, I'm his son, slightly less important to the land than him, and the worst I'd do is mildly disagree.

He stood from the throne, not even bothering to straighten or brush off his clothing. I stepped to the side as he passed by. "Tell your mother we're leaving before nightfall."

"She's not coming?"

"No. She's the queen of this land, which I love as much as I love her. I can't leave either on their own."

Mother certainly could exert her will as queen over her people. It wasn't something she particularly enjoyed doing, as being so forceful went against her nature, but she could. The White She-Wolf of Pekka.

"Go, Vaska. If possible, I'd like to see that goddamn housecat before another merchant is maimed by his delinquent guards."

~ ~ ~

The trip to Howell, Ovemia's capital, would take a little over a full day, though I could very well tell that Father wished to be there right then. He didn't understand my excitement to visit such an important cultural hub: the blade with which I learned to fight came from the craftsmen of Ovemia, and apparently the same man who forged the legendary Queen Scheherazade's battleaxe, "as wide across as the front of her chest", and there were a few things in which she did not lack: strength, determination, libido, and womanhood. I adored the style of the goods that came from those open grasslands; like the people, everything had a certain... flavor, a certain spice. I wore Ovemian clothing when I could - I wonder if Blue noticed...

Oh, gods. Blue. It'd been, what, two, three weeks since that last morning I saw him? Mother recognized what was going on during the days after he had left... every morning for a week, I woke up to find another fresh apple on the pillow beside me. She'd spoken to me in the past about love, something that Father avoided. Love is indeed a roaring flame, bringing light and great warmth in its existence, but leaving behind barren destruction after its death... however, ash is the best of fertilizers, and the soil is enriched to better maintain even more wonderful life.

What happens to a flame when time does not seem to pass, when the days stretch into weeks, and the weeks feel as months?

Father and I rode inside a carriage with six hand-picked guards around, and one driver leading us. The guards wore steel plate forged by the palace's best smiths and carried arms of their own choosing: one maceman, three with polearms, two swordsmen. I wore a steel mail shirt until my royal finery and kept my sword across my lap, a nice thing of an alloy blade and a gem-studded hilt. Father, however, carried no weapon except for a small knife in his boot; he enjoyed telling stories about how he gained prominence when he served in our army by using the enemy as his weapon. He was an armsmaster, in that I'd actually seen him beat one criminal with another, swinging him around by one arm.

If things went well, we'd arrive in Howell early the next morning. The trip did little to calm my father: whenever we passed by travelers of any feline variety, his hackles would rise and a low growl would rumble in his throat, a terrifying thing, really. I wished I'd brought along a book to read or something, for watching the grasses pass by and grow gradually taller was a surprisingly drab way to pass the time. I tried to busy myself with thoughts, with memories and scenarios - very few of the former, and an overabundance of the latter - but, I could only allow my mind to wander so far, before I had to restrain myself. The lure of warm fur, warm breath, warm words - oh, the thought of his arms around me, his body against mine - how it would feel to trace my fingers up his slender sides, to feel the curvature of his hips and waist, his belly and chest-

Suddenly, a loud thok reverberated throughout the carriage, followed by silence. Several hours had passed since we'd set out, and a little earlier, we'd passed the checkpoint and crossed the border into Ovemia just fine - our guards let us through without trouble when they saw their king and prince. Father informed me then that the Ovemian checkpoint lay a few miles into the territory...

Outside, a clamor of weapons being drawn and shouts filled the air.

"What the-" Father kicked open the door of the carriage, stepped out, and then just barely dodged an arrow that whizzed by his head. A second later, he took off in a sprint towards the direction it had come from. Gods - I'd seen battle before, but never participated in a fight outside of sparring; being a prince, it's vastly important that I be as well trained or even better than some of the palace's finest guards, so that I could defend myself should the need arise.

Father's shouts and various curses gave me confidence to step out into the mild air, sword drawn and held at an angle. Apparently, the noise we had heard was the bite of an arrow slamming into the chest of our driver and pinning him to the back of his seat; the projectile had flown above the line of sight of the beasts pulling us, but now, the combat distressed them. A glint of a raised blade to my side caught my eye, and I lifted my own to catch his. He was a fox in leather armor, omitting a helm, with the crest of the Ovemian royal guard embroidered into the chestpiece.

Right as I prepared to swing my own blade around and cut into that armor - it would take effort, but I knew I could do it - Father called my name, and I dodged out of the way. With one paw on the fox's chest before he could react, Father swiped his feet out from under him and then kicked the blade from his paw. The fox looked up at him, terrified. He didn't even try to move when Father set a booted foot against his sternum, holding him down to the dirt-and-gravel road.

We had lost none of our guards. Just as quickly as the combat started, it had ended. I looked around: four, five other bodies lay around a bit of a distance away, one bending a bit of the tall grass. One thing I'd give Father and his not-so-quiet racism: felines are indeed better suited to stealth than open combat...

...but, that guard he held down was a fox.

My ears flicked back to pick up Father's low growl: "What made you think you could attack any travelers going between lands?"

The fox spat up at him. A swift kick later, at least half of his teeth sprayed out in the shape of a broken cone along the ground from his mouth. He spat a glob of blood out to the side. "We - only raid the merchants and the wealthy."

"And that makes it better? Did Alhaz not assign you here because of the agreements? Did he even tell you about the agreements?"

"We're-" His lack of teeth greatly impeded his speech. "-not guards-"

I considered moving around behind the carriage, for the grating "What?" of a snarl Father gave him told me that he was ready to crush the poor fox's head.

The fox put his arms up to defend against any attack; however, none came, and he looked through tear-lined eyes at my father. "There... there were guards here, but we - we killed them. Damn easily. Their armor was better - warmer, stronger - than ours. Means to an end, y'know? You know how badly the king maintains territory outside of Howell. Everybody knows. He only cares about the capital city because that's the only place anyone ever travels to, the only place anyone ever sees. The guards that were here - we spoke to them - they were beggars, pulled off the streets. No way in hell that Alhaz would've dispatched the quality of guard he has in the palace way out here. Decided to... to go for a two-in-one, satisfy your... agreements... and clean up the streets of the city."

Father's ears flattened, came back up, flattened again. He tilted his head. "So you're bandits."

"I - yes." The fox swallowed, then spat more blood out onto his chest. "Yes, sir."

"...Vaska!"

"Yes, Father?" The gravity of his voice pulled me closer. I watched him remove his foot from the fox's chest, but the bandit did not try to get up, as if he knew he would end up in the same position in a few moments.

"Kill this man. I don't have the patience."

"Yes, Father."

He crunched off back towards the carriage and called some things out to the guards, leaving me alone with this one life. I put the point of my sword to his cream-furred throat, matted by coughed-up blood.

"Wait," he sputtered, "wait."

"I have no time. My father is an impatient man."

"I just - would like to know the name of the man who kills me." He swallowed. The metal of my blade glinted in the sun. "It would honor me."

"You heard the King."

His eyes flicked over to where Father had disappeared. "King..."

"I am Vaska, Prince of Pekka."

He closed his eyes - his tired, tired eyes. "Vaska."

I had to shift my grip on my sword. I only knew how to kill swiftly and without thought; time brought in fierce emotion that provided a near-impassable inhibition. It was a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. In my heart, I knew there stood no proper moral justification for taking a life... but, in this world, what matters is that problems are solved. Bandits, outlaws, marauders... all problems. I was only the heir prince of Pekka because my elder brother had been killed by bandits a handful of years ago, in travelling to visit an important lord in the northern parts of the country. "And you?"

He smiled sadly, eyes still closed. "I am just a bandit."

"No man is just a bandit."

"Vaska, I have no patience." Father's voice carried even in the windy air.

The fox once more opened his eyes. "My name is Prosper. My mother wished fortune upon me, and all I could give her was disappointment. I never was a good son."

"Perhaps you could have been a good father."

"My children died of sickness."

"Have you anything left to live for?"

"Why do you think I became a bandit?"

A little pang resounded through my chest. "...I'm sorry, Prosper."

"I am too, Prince Vaska. Thank you for showing me humanity."

The flesh of his throat offered little resistance to the point of my sword, though I had to squeeze my eyes shut and look away against his choking, coughing, sputtering-

I felt sick. Once the only noise in my ears was again the wind through the grass, I tugged the blade free, sheathed it without cleaning it, and started back for the carriage. "I told you to kill the man, not hold a conversation with him," Father growled when I slid in beside him. While I had been speaking with the fox - with Prosper - one of our guards took our driver's body to the back, so that he could give him a proper burial upon our return home, and then took up the reins.

"A man is still a man, Father."

"In the grand scheme of things, a bandit is little more than a nuisance."

Ah. In the grand scheme of things. Most kings turn out to be little more than two, three paragraphs of muddled text in a history book. Very few carve their influence into the world, literally or otherwise. As far as I could tell, all my father had done in his rule was tighten trade restrictions.

The good kings have biographies and histories written about them, while the bad ones only find their names immortalized in fiction.

~ ~ ~

Howell - the jewel of Ovemia. A large walled city rising above the seas of yellow grass, endless in all directions. I'd read about it in books but never seen it for myself, and might I say, it's one thing the texts didn't lie about. Glittering walls of pinkish-grey granite from some unknown quarry, stacked up, mortared together. From here we could not see past those towering walls, but outside were clustered expanses of smaller buildings, houses, and hovels of mud and wood.

"Damned putrid city," Father snarled. He seemed to willingly ignore the tall spires of the city chapel and palace over the walls, the towers of which both were adorned with intricate colored glasswork and engravings. "When a man is sick, does he let his vomit and waste gather around him for all to see? No; like anyone with self-respect, he cleans it up..."

The guards at the front gate stopped us, and I heard our driver explain that 'the king of Pekka demanded an audience with King Alhaz', to which the gatekeeper gave a halfhearted objection, but - he came over, looked in, saw Father's recognizable face and scowl as well as the crown in his lap, and paled slightly before waving us in. Father had that effect on people when he something angered him; it almost pulsed and bubbled around him in a little dark miasma, one that I guess I'd built a resistance against after being so close to it so often. Really, he was little more than an overgrown child, except he had the power and ability to isolate us from the rest of the world or send us all into a war - and again, I've seen him pick up a man by his throat and throw him, like a wet cloth...

Admittedly, even the outskirts of the city's walled section were a bit... well, something. Our city was no better, though - however, I couldn't much speak, as Father prohibited me from stepping into those parts of Serit, our capital. Of course, I often still did what he prohibited (and what I think he'd prohibit, such as kiss a male, who was also one of those damned cats, as well as the heir prince of the land Father hated), but... I don't know. Walking among the poor and/or disease-ridden had just never been high on my list of daily activities. There were more than just felines in the streets, too - but I don't know why I expected otherwise. Yes, plenty of tigers, jaguars, lions leaned against walls or spoke with other citizens, but there were also otters, dogs, foxes, a few dragons, even a number of other wolves.

Of course my father already knew that. He just avoided looking outside because of the somewhat-better-than deplorable conditions of this outer city.

I could daresay that Howell covered a wider expanse of land than our Serit. This city saw more travellers, more merchants than we did, and thus had far more reason and ability to expand and flourish. We profited on exports of metals and weapons; Ovemia profited on the imports of everyone around them. They were naturally in a position to become much more powerful than any other nation.

And, yet, they surely didn't show it. Father was right, but only to a certain degree. If the rulers of Ovemia were truly as powerful and prosperous as the histories said, why would Alhaz let his city show its rust? Or had that part just been omitted from the books?

"When we get to the palace, I swear - I'll strangle him..."

"Father..."

"No, Vaska. You've told me and shown me plenty of times before that you don't care for our 'confusing politics'. I don't expect you to understand my anger."

The carriage went over a little bump. Outside, the looming palace slowly drew closer. "Why did you bring me along, then?"

"Like it or not, you are still prince. You are still a part of this. I won't perform such a crime against my - our - people to give them, when I die, a halfwit king who doesn't understand how the world works."

I settled back into my seat and kept my eyes focused on the scenery outside, trying so hard not to let my ears fall. There's plenty of time, I wanted to tell him, and laid out before me were things of far more importance, one in particular. I didn't have to stay prince. My brother had shrugged off the position, though in a style a bit... undesirable to me.

What held my wants and desires was a cheetah with deep blue eyes. The prospect of living alone with him somewhere far from pressures and responsibilities appealed to me much more than the idea of becoming my father. I wonder: was he once an energetic, lovestruck young wolf, like me?

If it really was the strains of being king that turned him into this sour, aloof, 'dreadfully arrogant' man, then that's a burden I would rather avoid shouldering.

~ ~ ~

He did not speak another word to me even after arriving at the palace. Its beauty and sheer enormity certainly struck me - I wanted to stay behind and look over the engravings on the walls, see the pictures telling of legends and histories, and perhaps have Blue read the glyphs to me - but Father, I guess, was above speaking to his halfwit failure prince son, and instead only issued a growl punctuated by a short bark to tell me to hurry up.

"Alhaz!"

His voice resonated in the expansive grand hallway. Calm water bordered either side of the main walkway, drawn from some hidden spring; the glass windows kept the humidity in the air and thus allowed the existence of vast plant life here that couldn't thrive outside. Ivy and other vines crawled their way up the support columns, both obscuring and at the same time highlighting the carvings; leafy bushes surrounded entryways and doors but were kept suitably trimmed; flowers and low-lying fruits sprang up near the end of the hall, where the aqueducts in the floor came into a circle around the throne, which itself looked to be carved out of the base of a large tree reaching up into the air, to the point where it appeared the grand hall had been constructed around the tree's greater presence. Whereas my father ignored the overwhelming presence of natural beauty, I was breathtaken. The outside and outskirts were only tarnish upon the surface of the wonderful gold of the palace.

A young panther steward came rushing forward, visibly panicked by the forcefulness of my father's voice. "My lord, the king is preoccupied w-"

"Tell him that Lethro is here, and I've got a hell of a quarrel with him."

The panther looked between me and my father, realizing who we were. I gave him a little nod in greeting, out of respect. "I - I'm sorry, King Lethro, I'll - let him know as soon as-"

"No. Let him know now. I demand an audience. I don't know why you let yourself be commanded by such a low-down, lying bottomfeeder as him, or why the..."

By then, I simply stopped listening - for, something else caught my attention, the curvature of a feline back beneath well-fitted silks, the sway and shadow of a long tail. Father didn't even notice when I slipped away, and though the steward flicked bright yellow eyes to me, he quickly returned his gaze to my father's face as he continued unloading his relentless barrage. If Father so desired to keep me out of these problems that were clearly tearing him apart, so be it. I couldn't say that I wanted stress of that tier weighing me down.

That tail flicked again out of sight just as I entered the hallway, so I picked up my feet and went after it, though trying to remain at least somewhat quiet. The other stewards and servants passed by without a second glance, or simply stepped out of my way. Perhaps they figured if I were a thief or assassin or something, I wouldn't get around by the main hallways, and in the middle of the day, too. This, or maybe they just simply didn't care.

Blue's voice as he spoke quietly to someone hovered to me over the pleasantly warm air. The words couldn't be made out, and as I listened, I doubted more that they were in a language I could speak and understand. A glance around the corner showed me his back and rear as he leaned against the threshold of a room; after another moment, he continued down the hall and disappeared into another room, so I followed. He didn't hear the door close behind me, as his ears didn't flick back as I had expected them to. He was moving things of clothing around in a large chest of drawers when I almost wrapped my arms around him, but realized the danger of doing that to an unsuspecting lord prince... so, instead, I licked my lips, ran my eyes over the form of his back one more time, and said:

"Blue."

This time, his ears perked, flicked back to me, wavered uncertainly in differentiating my breathing from the quiet murmur of daily activity outside. His head turned, and then his body, and the widest of smiles blossomed on his muzzle. His stance and posture both straightened, the pools of his eyes suddenly glowed with all the light of the sun, and his mouth started to move to say something, to form the 'V' of my name-

But, I wouldn't let him. The chest of drawers clattered back onto two feet under our combined weight leaning against it when I pressed myself to him in a kiss; I could feel his tail wrap around one of my legs for balance and one of his paws drop to my waist, while the other kept him up against the tilted piece of furniture. Such wonderful desire, fulfilled - oh, how I had missed his warmth, his scent, his presence. I had one arm around his body to hold his lower chest against mine, and his position of leaning back allowed him to brace one of his legs against mine for balance - such sweet, sweet heat accompanied by a tempting pressure against my hip-

"Oh, gods," he breathed afterwards. He moved both arms to around my back and kept his nose close to mine. In his eyes I could see tiny rivulets of a lighter, more sapphire blue, as well as flecks of warm green among the soulful darker azure... "Vaska - how I've missed you! I almost felt close to death, like - like you'd capture my will to live, so that I can only feel happiness when you are nearby..."

"I know. Oh, I know." I remembered the long nights, the slow, quiet mornings spent in thought and memory. Never before in my life had I met someone who had such a deep impact on me - no, Blue was not my first... interest. A year or so after my brother's death, there was this stunning vixen, but... oh, her beauty could not hope to compare to that of this cheetah. I could not get close to her. She did not hesitate to walk the city with me, but when it came to spend time alone, she had a thousand other things that she needed doing. The vixen came, stayed briefly, and went, leaving but a small scuff on the surface of my heart that was easily eradicated. Were Blue to end up phasing out of my life as well, I knew he would leave a deep, deep fissure that could never be healed.

"You..." He pressed his muzzle into my neck and nuzzled up under my chin. "Gods, Vaska... what are you doing here? When did you arrive?"

"Just today. We..." Oh, his scent muddled my thoughts and senses. Not at all overbearing, no: he had a quiet aroma, a gentle dry spice that tickled my nose, my mind, my heart. I almost wished that it were a little stronger. "...my father - there were merchants from the border, some... break of agreement, some-"

"Of course. My father says that men who understand one another need no words." He rolled his eyes. "I say that a man is only eligible to be a king if his ability to understand is greatly impeded. Does this mean you will only stay for a few days?"

"If that." Another short kiss calmed the nervous beating of my heart that this realization brought, for I hadn't thought about that. Father would likely wish to spend as little time here as possible. The mere prospect of being again in this cheetah's arms had erased all worries from my mind, though. "I assume I shall only be here for as long as it takes my father to exhaust himself from yelling, and for yours to appease his desires."

"That can't be more than one day! We always seek to avoid conflict - that would 'upset the balance of imports and exports that is so vital to our economy', and we can do it because 'our market is the world's market'... bah." He traced little patterns in the fluff of my chest revealed by the shirt's low collar. A shiver rippled through my body. "We have little time, and - I don't know about you - but our first meeting - alone - left me... ah, what's the word? 'Unsatisfied' isn't quite right..."

"Nor is 'unhappy'."

There was that smile again. With a bit of effort, he straightened up; his ears flicked at the soft bump of the dresser settling back down. Still, though, he kept his body so deliciously close to mine so that we each shared in the other's heat...

He shrugged. "Desire is a potent drug, Vaska, and might I say... our first kiss did not dull it but rather sharpened it, and it had been concentrating further the longer I spent away from you. Were it to become any stronger..." He peered around me, back towards the closed door. "...I feel I would... explode."

"Oh... you too?" I brought my paws up his back under his shirt, making him arch forward against me. In the meantime, he started fiddling with the buttons of my shirt. "I think... we have time."

A flash of blue eyes. One of my buttons popped free. "We also have a bed."

...oh, the torrent of want that sent through me, the wave of shivering desire! He took me by the paw, taking care not to prick my skin with his claws, and led me into a room adjacent to this one. There was, indeed, a bed there, and a damn nice one at that. I wondered how it would feel to be on my back on that with Blue's weight above me, holding me down...

...and then, suddenly, it occurred to me that I might soon find out. The cheetah lay back on the bed when we reached it, and then tugged me down to him; I found myself between his legs with my muzzle above his chest and paws on either side of him. He brought one leg around and tugged me closer - closer - so that my groin pressed against the edge of the mattress, and his against my belly-

"C'mon, Vaska, dear," he purred softly. One arm rested underneath his head while the other lay on his belly. Its movements drew my eyes, which I think was his intention: now, he worked at unfastening his belt... "Don't keep me waiting."

Oh, gods. A grin spread across my lips, and soon, my paws batted away his to take over the task. I could feel the heat, the desire pulsing off of him through the fabric of his pants. "Here? Now?"

"'We have time'." He lifted up to allow me to tug his belt free. All that remained was the fastenings of his pants, a few little buttons...

"Blue, I'm nervous-"

"Don't be. Oh, Vaska, don't be..."

While I moved my focus to his pants (because desire triumphed over nervousness, and I knew always would with him), he undid his shirt - which opened to show me black markings in gold fur fading to a uniform cream chest, a belly rippling vaguely with sleek muscles. Oh - to feel that belly writhing against mine, to press the side of my muzzle and feel his warmth on me - against me - around me-

His pants opened at the last button, and against the back of my paw throbbed an eager, tantalizing heat... I wanted to relieve the pressure against the front of my own pants, too - and he knew this: while I was unbuttoning him, he had started on me. Breaths hot and short with anticipation, I pressed forward against his waiting paw - ah, soft pads - and turned my own to feel him. The contours of the flesh, the little pulses and throbs that came with each of his heartbeats - he brought one of his own paws down and closed mine around his length, tightened my grip for me; a little huff of breath escaped from his half-open mouth, reminding me of our first kiss-

And then, a series of knocks on the door caught both of our attentions. We shared a startled glance.

"Blue?"

I'd think that the expression he gave me right then was cute, if my own heart didn't thrum in my ears with the ferocity of a timpani. With fast paws, he started buttoning up his pants and shirt, and I did the same.

"Yes, Mother? One moment..." And then, under his breath: "...damn... where'd I throw my - belt..."

His mother the Queen hadn't spoken when they visited us, so I'd never heard her voice before. It became clear to me that she had primarily, or only, spoken another language for the greater part of her life as she said more: "Your father... ah, he wishes to speak with you. He asks your counsel."

"Mine?" He looked again to me; I only shrugged.

"Aye. Also - Lethro is here. Have you seen his son?"

I nodded, the both of us having finished dressing. We would be fine, so long as the Queen didn't embrace either of us. Our heartbeats - mine for certain, at least - would tell far too much about our... activities, as I'm sure our scents would, too...

"Yes, actually-" Blue took my paw and led me back into the other room. "He is here, with me."

"Ah! May I come in? I trust you two weren't-"

I glanced at him, ears rigid.

"-conspiring something evil, or whatever it is you princes do?"

Blue breathed out a tense sigh. "No! No. We were just - ah-"

"Discussing the... repercussions of - of penetrating into an ally's territory without proper... preparation." I looked to him for verification, and he just rolled his eyes at me. Right as I finished speaking, the Queen stepped into the room; she wore a crimson dress that glittered quite nicely in the light against her golden fur and sapphire eyes - much brighter in her prince's, almost opal in appearance. She was indeed beautiful, much more so than I remembered from those few weeks ago; again, though, likely due to her illness then, as well as the general malaise that often resulted from a long journey to an unfamiliar place.

Her face lit up when her eyes fell upon me. I tried to return her smile, though the still-present shadow of tense nervousness dulled it somewhat. "It is good to meet you, Queen. Only a palace such as this can suit beauty such as yours."

"Oh - stop that. I will not have you humbling yourself for my sake. We could flatter one another for the rest of the sun's life, but... Prince Vaska, your father was looking for you earlier. Best not keep him waiting, I should like to say; he is a man with an overabundance of self-importance and a dire shortness of temper."

"Oh, I know - I know. Thank you, Queen." I bowed to her on my way out, and gave Blue a look that I'm certain he understood just fine. In response, his lips curved into a soft smile that melted my heart and made me wish to ignore my father and stay here with him and his mother, quite a pleasant woman, for a queen. However, I knew what result that would bring, and so made my way back to the grand hall, where I found him leaning against one of the pillars. By the look on his face, it wouldn't surprise me if he started trying to topple the damn thing.

"Where did you go?" he growled. My ears automatically lowered upon hearing his tone of voice. "I didn't bring you along so you could run off to - who knows where-"

"Apologies, my lord, but Prince Blue saw me, and called me away to greet me. We got... lost in conversation." Lost in something, at least.

Father's ears, however, flattened to his head. Over time, stress and his near-constant state of being angry at something-or-other had turned his once obsidian-black fur (as Mother says he used to have) into a more graphite shade, streaked with silver and flat stormcloud grey. "Vaska... we are here to maintain peace - some semblance of that, at least, or perhaps obedience. Not make friends. You should know by now that thoughts of friendship can do nothing but cloud judgment."

"But - my lord, Mother said-"

"Your mother is not here. I am at the end of my nerves; perhaps I should not have brought you along, either." He shook his head. "You are so... damned resistant. Someday you will take my place on the throne, and then, Vaska, you will be clueless. That is all on your shoulders."

Again with the insults, with the guilt... I wondered how my brother ever managed to handle the burden of being our father's son. Perhaps he was of a different mind, though, and better suited to rule over a land than I - while I took after Mother and her interests in literature, in music, in theatre, in art-

-in men-

-but what else could I do than be my own man, my own person? I am not my brother, nor have I ever been. Was that what Father wanted? Did he want me to be the son he had lost, the firstborn, the true heir? I sighed. "...Father, I will try t-"

"You will try to do nothing. I am forbidding you from attending the meeting today."

"What? Today? When today?"

"After lunch. You will eat, and then wait for me. Don't go out into the city. Don't leave the palace. As soon as the thing is over with and I have settled matters with Alhaz, we will depart for home."

Inadvertently, I stiffened. "I see."

"I expected better from you, Vaska."

"Father - I told you I'd try-"

"It is far, far easier to say something than it is to do it. Words are worth nothing if you don't follow them up. That's one thing that I can't stand." Father clenched his fist, turning from me back to face the empty live wood throne. "You and Alhaz are on completely different levels, but you have your similarities."

When I saw that he had no more to say to me, I looked down, breathed a soft apology, and then went off. I passed by Blue's quarters, but the door stood open and he wasn't inside. Later, even at lunch, Father wouldn't say anything more than two or three words to me, though we sat beside one another. Perhaps he'd finally had enough. I had grown somewhat used to all the words he wielded as weapons to alleviate his anger, but even though I turned my back, the blades and barbs still cut, still hurt.

At least the lunch could be enjoyed. I won't go into details, but it was certainly uncommon fare for someone of my palate, and a welcome difference. Myriads of spice and flavors; the meat served left an odd desire for more after being consumed, though it burned the mouth a bit. Maybe that's something that the people of Ovemia have in common with their food: a tantalizing spiciness and an aftertaste of... of expectation, though without being unsatisfactory...

Blue kept his eyes on me throughout the meal, and at one point, his expression told me that he'd picked up on my mood. I wished I could tell him, wished that I could bring him aside just to pull him into a hug - but I couldn't. When it comes to political relations, there are two kinds of people: those like my mother and those like my father. Perhaps communal tables, such as the one here in the dining room and the one in the meeting hall, had been designed by people of the latter type. Distance at gatherings inhibits conversations, and thus, formations of friendships...

...which, after all, can do nothing but cloud judgment.

Afterwards, I made my way back to Blue's quarters - gods forbid that I wouldn't be able to see him again before our departure. My emotions from this trip had knotted into a tight ball of yarn, and... well, that's exactly what cats like, isn't it? I felt confident Blue could help. Hell - even his simple presence was therapeutic, for it banished the thick fog that separation from him had conjured around my heart, among a number of other smaller difficulties. And - gods, earlier today, before his mother arrived...

So I waited. I did not go through his room and his things, as I was sure Father would expect a sneaky cat like him to do if left alone. Anything that I wanted to learn about him I could learn from him; there's a damn lot you can discover about a person from what of themselves they choose to share with you and what they keep hidden.

~ ~ ~

It was a dull wait, but one well worth it. when the noise of the door opening reached me, I had pressed my nose into the sheets of his bed to taste of his scent - and the richer remnants of before added more spice, the sharp tang of adoration, and want, and pleasure, and desire - always absolute desire-

His face again broke into a smile when he saw me, but then became clouded by faint confusion. "Vaska, why... why are you here? Why weren't you at the meeting? I almost asked Father if I could leave..."

Imagine that. It would be king against king, where neither would have to monitor his words or manners for the sake of his prince and the guise of 'peaceful negotiations'. Had Alhaz granted Blue's request, I fear that Ovemia would have a different king when Father and I left than when we arrived.

I sat up on the edge of the bed and watched him approach. "While you were wanting to ask your father to leave, mine simply told me not to come. He prohibited me from it."

"What? Why?"

"A number of reasons, I'm sure - but mainly because I was 'making friends' with who he certainly views as the enemy."

The mattress sank under our combined weight when he sat beside me; I put my arm around and leaned against him. There again was that sweet warmth, that wonderful peace that originated from him just being there... gods, I was in deep. "Well..." he mused, "if we had the chance, I'm sure we'd make more than just friends... but, that doesn't surprise me about his stance. Lethro sure treats us like enemies."

"What did he say?"

"He demanded payment for all the goods as well as lives lost in transit between your land and ours due to bandits and... how did he put it... 'the sheer incompetence and negligence of the Ovemian guard'. He said something about you encountering marauders on your way here?"

"That is true." Suddenly I remembered Prosper, who had vanished from my thoughts since then. Oh, our conversation - 'have you anything left to live for?'; 'why do you think I became a bandit?'... "Highwaymen, wearing your guards' armor because it was better than whatever they had before. I know not to trust the word of a bandit, but - they said Alhaz hired beggars off the streets as these new guards?..."

"Oh - dear - I'm so sorry..." He brought his nose up under the side of my chin in a nuzzle, forcing my head to angle upwards. I couldn't help but smile. "Are you hurt? Why didn't you tell me? I could-"

"No, no, I'm fine - the bodyguards we brought along handled most of-"

Before I finished speaking, he pushed me down by the shoulders and got over me, paws already working at opening my shirt. "I need to check you for wounds. Remember the children's tale of Lord Henrik, and how an arrow pierced his rump?"

I grinned underneath him and his searching fingers. Mother told me and my brother that when we were pups. "He didn't notice because he hadn't felt it, and then, the infection killed him."

"It's a tale of obliviousness and the importance of being aware of your surroundings. Tell me, prince..." He opened my shirt and then ran his claws through my fur. Were there any wounds, he could close them with the soothing salve of his voice, with the cooling shiver that his touch brought... "...are you oblivious?"

"My father would tell you that."

"I'm not seeking your father's words. I-"

The mattress squeaked again when I flipped him over so that it was again him with his back against the blankets and myself over him. My shirt hung open in the warm air between us; after settling into his new position, he resumed tracing lines along my belly. "I can tell you that I'm aware enough to know when a kitten wants something."

"I'm no kitten!"

"Look at you." I nipped at one of his ears - oh, already, the stress of the day melted away... "letting yourself be held down by a scruffy dog."

"I'm - not-" He wiggled in trying to flip me back over, but only succeeded in rubbing against me. I held him firmly down by the shoulders and with one leg on his. "Vaska!..."

"See? Kittens like you should stick to stealth." Yes, I was aware of how little time we had, remembering Father's statement that we'd leave as soon as the meeting had concluded. Oh well; I had more urgent things to take care of, things I wouldn't be able to attend again for likely a long time. "After all, you, my Lord Prince, have snuck into my heart and stolen it from me..."

"That's racist! Y-"

I silenced him with a kiss, pressing my body down against his. Amid the embrace, he moved one paw between us to begin undoing his shirt, and worked at slipping mine off with his other. We broke apart in a little puff of breath; I let him lift up to remove his shirt. "Are you saying you don't enjoy the current situation?"

"Well..." His paws found their way to the front of my pants and instantly set to undoing the fastenings. I straightened up and moved my legs between his to allow him the freedom to do this... "I'm not exactly complaining, but at this position, things might be a little... difficult."

"How's that?"

"I know I'm able to groom myself, so I should be able to... do the same for a 'scruffy dog' holding me down, but... it's not exactly comfortable."

"Show me what you would like, then."

He wiggled out from under me and then shifted off the bed to stand up. I turned to get a better look at him, then, as he undid his own pants - slowly, just to tease me, I'm sure - and slid them down his legs. Oh, the grace with which he stepped out of them, and stood there for my sake... I could not draw my eyes away from his form, his body, the sleek curve inwards at his slim back, then back out to trace the line of his rump, and then once more in and down along the back of his legs... I could remember dreaming about this nude body, and now, it was all mine for the taking. His obsidian markings faded to threads of silver and then creamy white to match the tone of his lower chest and belly - and there, amid the field of snow-fluff stood his length of pink flesh, the central point of his fine body that attracted and held my gaze.

"C'mere," he said. "Sit on the edge of the bed."

I obeyed.

Blue knelt down in front of me ,close enough so that I could feel the heat from his body on my legs. After a moment longer, he'd finished unbuttoning my pants, and then slid those down my legs and tugged them off. My heart beat loudly in my chest and ears - but, what if he doesn't like-

"First time?" He ran his nose up along the side of my length, hard like his, just as expectant and eager. The gentle noise of him inhaling my scent - ah, how I blushed when I heard him breathe out a soft moan - reached my ears, and he nuzzled again, this time putting his lips to the flesh.

I shivered, having to lean back on my paws, else I knew I would topple over onto my back. "I... yeah."

Hot breath on hot flesh. Blue eyes flitted up to me past my red shaft; with one paw, he slid the skin of my sheath past my knot. "You're in for a treat."

"You're not nervous?"

"I never said that. I just..." With one paw, he angled my length towards his muzzle, but didn't take his eyes from mine. "...well... you could say I'm aware enough to know when a scruffy dog wants something."

"I want you."

"And this kitten wants you."

He dragged his tongue up along the underside of my length, then, following the lines and contours of flesh present in the shape of a canid's member. I almost couldn't believe it was his first time, given the skill with which he worked his tongue, and then a moment later, his lips too - although, I knew quite well that all cats are dexterous, and there's no reason that should be limited only to deftness of the fingers - which I had dreamed about, too...

He didn't stay down on me long. After a short time of slowly bobbing down, he lifted his head, wiped his mouth across the back of his paw, and gave me this... this look that I really should have grown accustomed to. He stood up, leaned over close to my face, and breathed a few soft words:

"If you want me to stop, just let me know, okay?"

I only nodded and watched his face as he gently pushed me down to the bed so he could get over me. There was just something in the tone of his voice and the words he said that removed all nervous doubt from my head. The rest of the world, along with my concerns of Father and having no time and being caught, had been fading, as Blue drew me deeper and deeper into the lure of himself and my want of him, but now - that was all totally gone. All that remained, all that mattered, was him, and myself, and this bed beneath us.

My shoulders hit the soft velvet covers, and he climbed up over me. Ah - his body was everything I had dreamed of, and more! He first sat down on my legs so that my saliva-slickened length pulsed close to his, and then, against his when he leaned over to place a soft kiss on my cheek. He lifted himself up, keeping one golden paw on my chest, and positioned himself above me; the tempting, tantalizing heat of his tailhole taunted me, as he moved his other paw to angle my length up against him. Only his breathing belied his nervousness, or perhaps anticipation similar to mine. He kept that paw on my cock, looked up at me, gave another soft smile.

"Are you ready?"

Desire pulsed through me with each beat of my heart, and I almost trembled - I think he mistook this for worry, as he pressed his paw against my chest a little more firmly. To respond to his question, I licked my lips, swallowed, nodded somewhat weakly at first and then stronger, showing more properly how much I wanted it, how much I wanted him-

And then, he began to lower himself onto me, to sink back onto my shaft, and it was all I could do not to thrust up into him. Above me, he had stopped breathing steadily and instead let out hot bursts of breath whenever he paused in his descent, or came back up a little just so he could push further down. I moved my paw up to cover his on my chest and squeezed; he dug his claws into my skin just slightly as he moved down. The feeling had caused me to close my eyes and breathe deep, slow breaths through an open mouth; I half-opened my eyes and saw that he leaned forward over me, his eyes shut, and he bit his lower lip while he worked himself closer and closer to my knot, and almost all the tension went out of my body.

"Is... everything okay, Blue?..."

His ears flicked at my voice. He moved his paw from my chest. "Yeah."

"You've-" Gods, I could hardly think straight... "-done this before?"

To this, he shook his head. "Not this. Only... had someone in my muzzle a few times. Never mattered enough to me to do this with them." He looked up at me for a moment.. I had to look away, though, because he moved his rump on me in such a way that sent a wave of shivering pleasure through my body and made me stretch my head back. "I'm... a little nervous because of that..."

"You - told me you weren't..." I placed a paw on one of his thighs and gently lifted up into him; he sucked in a tight breath and lifted up as well, keeping me at the same depth in him.

"...shh," he managed, after taking a moment to catch his breath. "I just want it to feel okay. For you."

I think he knew quite well how it felt for me based on my face, my breathing, my attempts at speech... he bent over me, keeping both paws against my chest, and slowly, slowly started pulling himself up. Once more I closed my eyes, allowing all the mingling scents of him and myself and want and sex to overwhelm my thoughts, alongside the sheer sensation, the raw pleasure of him pulling up only to sink back down, and then come up further... it was clear that he felt the pleasure of the sex, too. The muscles in his leg tensed and relaxed under my paw; he leaned over closer to me so he could move his hips more easily, and the hot breath from his half-open mouth washed over my whiskers and muzzle; he dug his claws into my chest and then seemed to realize it a moment later, lightening his grip but still pulling but a few strands of loose fur.

I lost myself in it. He did too: it was a slow start, and often I flicked my ears over to the door on the trigger of hearing the ghost of footsteps outside, but once Blue got into it... he removed his paws from my chest and straightened up, bracing his legs and feet against the bed to govern his movements. I had lifted one of my legs up, and he even leaned back and placed one paw against it to hold himself up while he bobbed up and down along my length, gradually increasing in speed.

It felt right to close one paw around his cock and stroke while he - while he fucked himself on me, head back and mouth open. When I did this he started humping forward into my paw and then pulling back out, adding another sweet layer to the pleasure of the movement of his hips. Soon, my breathing matched his in rhythm, in shortness, in urgency - though gentle moans punctuated his movements and came freely from his mouth, while I tried to keep mine in my throat...

"Ah- Vaska..."

I half-opened my eyes and made to respond, but he had leaned again over me and pressed his lips to mine in a deep kiss. He still moved his hips on me and thrust into my paw squeezed between us, and after a short while, he broke off the kiss and breathed: "Harder..."

I didn't know which he wanted to be harder, so I just did both. I moved a paw again to his thigh so I could thrust in and pull out with more force and ferocity, and squeezed my other more tightly around him. Eventually I tired myself out and lay back against the bed, but - but Blue continued bouncing on me and thrusting into my paw, bringing us both closer and closer to orgasm - he clenched around me, he panted as he bobbed - he moved his hips not only up and down, but also forward and back - he dug his claws into my fur, he let out heavy breaths underlined by urgent moans, increasing in pitch and volume-

-and just as I slammed into him, he pressed down as hard as he could onto me, spewing out a few ropes of his cum over my chestfur while I did the same deep into him, shuddering and panting. He rested back against my knot, which had remained out of him during those last few lustful moments; had I tied him, we both would be extremely nervous for the duration...

He slumped over me, breathing hotly into my neck, and then lifted up a second later so I slid out of him; this forced another tense moan from my throat.

"Gods, Vaska..." He nuzzled into my neck and draped an arm across my chest.

I would've responded if I could. However, the feeling of everything had overwhelmed me. I could only press my lips between his ears in a kiss. Had the door in the other room been open, I feared that anyone walking through that hall would have heard Blue's last loud moan...

We remained there for a while longer to catch our breath and let the lingering flames of pleasure die down. After a while - I don't know how long; I might have dozed off briefly - he nosed up under my chin again, then pulled himself up into a sitting position beside me. "Don't you have to be going soon?" he said. "With... what your father said to you, I don't really want to keep you from him..."

"Oh, don't worry about it..." Unsteady legs supported me when I stood up from the bed to get dressed. Still I could feel the resounding tingle all throughout my body... "Any time spent with you is easily worth the punishment from him. You know I would love to stay here with you if I could."

"Well..." He placed a paw on my arm as I tugged my pants up my legs. Sexual desire extinguished (for now), I could look upon his still-nude body for its true grace and beauty, without the taint of more base thoughts. Gods, was I lucky to be the one who had caught his interest. "...why can't you?"

I paused in buttoning up my shirt. Such an absurd question - wasn't the answer, or rather multiple reasons why not, obvious? And yet, I could hardly think of an acceptable one... "Because - Blue, that's... I'm the only prince to Pekka. I have no more siblings."

"So?" He continued buttoning my shirt for me. "Your father can't be more than forty. He had you, he can have another - an heir and a spare, right? Just in case."

"You're... really oversimplifying it-"

"I know, I know. I wasn't being serious, dear. It was just... wishful thinking. Imagine it: in a few decades, there could be a King Blue of Ovemia, ruling alongside the wolf King Vaska, his mate, his husband..."

"I... Blue, that - I don't think that would..." To him, it must have seemed like the blush burning on my cheeks also interfered with my mind and my ability to form coherent sentences.

"I know. Get out of here, you." He spun me around and lightly pushed me into the other room. "You have places to be."

"Wait! When will I see you again?"

"Probably tonight, when you dream."

I glared at him. In response, he grinned.

"Really, though, Vaska, I don't know. The prospect of not seeing you again frightens me like nothing else, so I... I try not to think about it. Perhaps I - perhaps I can arrange something, or have Father... I don't know. I will see you again, though, alright?"

"Well... okay." At the door, I turned around to face him. Azurite eyes glimmering with the bittersweet burden of farewell looked back at me. "...Blue?"

"Yes, Vaska?"

I leaned forward, placed my arms around his waist, pressed my nose to his. "May I have a kiss?..."

~ ~ ~

And so purgatory began again, where I felt the same going to bed as I did upon awakening in the morning. Father had a few choice words in reprimand for my lateness following my... time... with Blue, but little more than that. Maybe he had just tired of yelling at me - when an artist tries to improve on a failed painting time and time again, the only result is something that looks even worse. Blue's words stayed with me - 'why can't you?' - though I knew staying with him was out of the question.

It took a while, but eventually, the malaise of separation from someone dear set in. Gods, if only I'd had one night to lay beside him, one morning to awaken next to him! His scent had worn out of my clothing by the second night; I threw a shirt to the corner and pulled the covers up over me in frustration after searching for his scent on it. I had rich, fresh memories to warm me the first few nights, but soon, those grew stale and created a want for that cheetah even more powerful than before.

I saw him in the blue sky of early evening and the cool water of streams and ponds; I saw him in the gently swaying fields of golden grass, in the resplendent light of the sun. I heard him in the song of the court musicians and felt him in the rhythm of poetry, of a sonnet heard recited to a lover on a walk through the gardens.

Perhaps Father eventually forgave me. He started to treat me with more respect and formality, as if I hadn't done so much to disappoint him. About a week and a half after arriving back home, I asked Mother the reason for his change in temperament. She told me it was because he could see what effect his words had had on my mood after the meeting in Ovemia.

Ah, if only he knew. After I asked, Mother gave me another of her apples.

I tried to take to reading to pass the time from morning to evening, but... the words read like little more than just that: words. When I tried romances, I almost thought: have the authors ever actually been in love? The sentences, the words, the prose is all so flowery and embellished when... when it just doesn't have to be. Turquoise is beautiful in its natural state, is it not? So why polish a sulfur crystal and try to pass it off as more valuable? Same idea, the gems, but of a different heart. Besides, the poems were written to people, usually women, I didn't know and never would meet, and the tales had been penned between fictitious hearts. Perhaps those characters had been based off people known by the author, or the author himself; in that case, true hearts encased in fictitious characters. It all just fell flat. Maybe someday, I'd write my own story of interest and love... ah, desire makes for a hell of a muse.

Needless to say, Father would not necessarily approve of his only remaining son committing so much of his time to a 'useless pursuit'. Father himself appreciated the books and tales already written, but would never spend time out of his own life doing the same thing. He always had so many things better to do, he told us, and yet he never seemed to do anything when he retired from the grand hall and shrugged the burdens of the people onto me.

That's another thing that had changed by the second week as well: he had me sit on the throne in his place and take the complaints and messages of the populace, as any good king should do. It all proved to be less of a burdening responsibility than I before thought - although, while I knew that the things I did and told the people in answer directly affected our nation, I didn't feel any worry at all for doing something wrong. Perhaps that's why kings are so headstrong: they simply don't know when they've made a mistake.

I think three weeks had passed following our return home when there was a night I could not sleep. Something just felt... wrong that night. Yes, every day since the last one I'd seen Blue had some measure of bitterness based in his absence from my side, but this was... oh, this was intense, raw want. Hell, it was need. I clutched my pillow between my arms and pressed my nose into it, imagining his scent graced the fabric and was interwoven as tightly as any of the threads. Hours passed; I turned over again and again and again, wanting and imagining my arms around him, his arms around me, his muzzle in my neck, mine on his shoulder... at one point, I got up and leafed through some of the books of romance I'd picked up, trying to imagine us in the characters' places. However, it just wasn't there. I could not release myself back into the arms of sleep again that night.

After another week, the loneliness, the pain had cooled to a dull ache, not unlike the ringing in your ears following a loud sound - not necessarily obtrusive, but still undeniably present. But, what could be done about it? Nothing had yet come up, and I could not just walk back to Ovemia...

...so, instead, Ovemia came to us. One morning, a cheetah entered the grand hall; my excitement quickly died upon seeing the color of his eyes, a greyish-silver like my own. He knelt down before me on the throne.

"Prince Vaska."

Smooth voice, like Blue's but certainly different, and younger too. This one lacked the... something that made the Lord Prince's so enticing, so energizing. "Yes?"

"I have a message for your father the King from mine."

"Yes..." Father was still the head of the land and all matters, despite however much he might try to hand the responsibilities over to me. I was glad for that, at least. "Father!" I called over my shoulder, and then turned back to this cheetah. A brother of Blue's, most likely. "So. Who are you, then?"

"Prince Taris of Ovemia. It is an honor to meet you, Vaska; my brother speaks of you sometimes."

"Ah, yes? He does?" Back behind me, the sound of footsteps rang in the hall. "Blue, I take it?"

"Yes, my lord."

"How is he doing, by the way? I-"

But then, Father suddenly stood beside me, arms crossed in front of him and ears rigid. "Who is this, Vaska? Why did you call me out here?"

"Father, this - this is Prince Taris. He has a message for you from King Alhaz."

"An emissary, then? And a Prince. So - Taris - which in the line are you?"

"Fourth, sir. I have one younger brother and a sister, too."

"Interesting. What message do you carry?"

"My lord, my father sends an invitation to war."

"War?"

The way it worked here in Veremia was that one nation would send an invitation of war to another; if the other accepted, the messenger would bring word back and it would progress as any other. However, a denied invitation would mean negotiations would be arranged. Once in the past, the island nation Shadorra ignored this custom and besieged Fuzim, the isolated land of the dragons, without notice or apparent reason. The Shadorran navy, or at least most of it, now lay at the bottom of the sea off the Fuzim coast.

"On what grounds?"

Taris lowered his eyes, then looked back up at him. "Sir... on the grounds of the assassination attempt on my father."

Oh, gods. Father looked to me, and on his face was an expression of outright confusion mixed with a bit of anger. Of course, the latter emotion rarely didn't taint his visage.

"What? What 'assassination attempt'?"

"I was sent right after it happened, my lord. I was there. A foxwolf fired an arrow at my father's head from the entrance of the grand hall, but only missed because a servant bumped into him. He drew a dagger, cut the servant down, and started for my father, but the guards caught him first. He shouted that he worked for the good of the Pekkan people and wouldn't allow Ovemia to subjugate his land. We... assumed..." He trailed off.

Father remained silent. On a whim, I stood from the throne and stepped to the side; he settled back into it and ran a paw across his muzzle. "And you said you were there, Prince Taris?"

"Yes, my lord. Purely by chance, though. I was walking through the hall to eat when it happened."

"Gods - damn it! Vaska!"

My ears perked. Me? "Yes, Father?"

"Did you know about this?"

"No." Had I sent an assassin, I'd choose one that would actually get the job done. "But - what is your response to the invitation?"

Taris looked between us. "Shall I give Your Grace time to arrange and attend a council?"

Father was silent for a moment in thought. "No. No, that won't be necessary. Tell your king I accept his invitation."

"Father!-"

"We will fight on my side of the border. The blood of our soldiers deserves to return to the same earth that gave it life, and the blood of yours will nourish the soil.

The cheetah bowed. He looked again to me, sharing my surprise. "Yes, my lord."

"You may go, Prince Taris."

He straightened up and left without another word. I turned to Father, mouth agape in shock. "What-?"

"Oh, come on, Vaska. Don't tell me you didn't know I have been looking for an excuse to open war."

"Well - I did, but - why? There's no reason!"

"We can easily demolish them in combat. I've been tightening restrictions on the metals, weapons, armor we send them for a while now. They can get these from other sources, but ours is the most abundant and highest quality. What equipment they do have will be old, rusted, not worth dirt of the same weight."

"Father, military might isn't everything. We'll have to deal with the other nations as well. They won't stand by and let their largest hub of commerce be attacked..."

"Ah, they won't notice. Provided that bastard Alhaz hasn't arranged any extra alliances, we'll start this battle, win, move in, overtake Howell, and claim Ovemia as ours. I will continue to hold this throne, and you will sit on that of Howell. I saw you admiring it when we visited. Give it... oh, another month, and it will be yours."

So he was serious. He had been planning this for... probably years now. "But, why?"

"For the good of Veremia as a whole!" He held his arms out in an all-encompassing gesture. "Alhaz has been a blight on the Empire since he took the throne. bandits and marauders make up half his country's population, and he can't run a city - much less an entire nation - worth anything. If there's a problem, he eliminates the result instead of curing the cause. Remember? He hired beggars for his guards, who got picked off by lowly bandits..."

Prosper. Happiness had turned its back on him at every opportunity, and the only relief I gave him was a blade in his throat. I hadn't drawn my sword since then, I realized.

Father went on, neglecting to notice the tightening of my jaw. "You weren't old enough to remember when it happened, but King Romulus Calador of Sailo was the same way - only concerned about himself, really more of a child who had stumbled into ownership of the throne, one who treated the task of running his nation as a game. And, now, nobody holds the throne of Sailo. Nobody dares to. His own people rebelled, burned down the palace and capital, drove him into exile. Were that to happen to Ovemia, the economy of Veremia would crumble."

"If Alhaz is the problem, why wage war against the entire country? Why amputate the arm when one finger bears infection?"

His ears splayed to the side, and his face clouded briefly in thought. "Vaska - I can not send an assassin. That is providing a strong opiate to numb the pain: the small infection is taken care of, but the body is tainted with a larger problem. All of Alhaz's line would have to be eliminated, and then who's to say someone else won't claim the throne and drive the country deeper into the ground? I can only be sure of stability when it's you who will hold Ovemia. You are sensible, and I know you will act in the best interests of ourselves and the rest of Veremia. Now, please leave me be. I will arrange a meeting with the military leaders tomorrow; I expect you will attend?"

All of Alhaz's line... what would happen to them if they survive the war? Would Father allow them to live? Or would he end their bloodline to ensure the 'infection' would not return...? Where loneliness had lazed before in my heart now churned vile angst and worry. "Yes, Father. If I must."

~ ~ ~

Within as short a time as a week, that word rippled throughout the civilians: 'war'. The musicians' songs shifted focus from love and nature to glory and prowess on the battlefield. I grew ever more nervous and slept less and less; every day, couriers and soldiers brought news and reports from small skirmishes and battles already being fought. Our border guards had been ordered to prevent any traffic between nations, and to kill anyone who resisted. Blood had been shed before the passage of one goddamned week.

Where was Blue? Was he okay? I'd never participated in a war before; do the king and prince lead their troops into battle, or do they command from the rear? Despite all the talk and commotion in the streets about impending attacks, things here in the palace remained calm. Word of these battles came in like a fragmented history text: matter-of-fact, impersonal, distant. Some fort had been taken, some village razed, some other battle won or some thing done. I awoke each morning fearing the couriers would tell us 'Lord Prince Blue has been slain' or something of the sort...

...and then, one morning, a cold blade shimmering close to me face awoke me. I didn't think - I only acted; soon, that blade lay buried in the chest of its wielder: a cheetah with silver eyes.

I shook my head. "Prince Taris."

"Vaska... I'm sorry." He clutched at the blade, winced, let his paws fall away. Bright silver faded to dull grey.

One of the servants ran in asking if everything was okay, saw me crouching over the cheetah, ran back off to tell my parents. A while later, Mother came in, gasped, put a paw over her mouth; Father cursed, pulled me away from Taris, kicked the body a few times and drove the dagger deeper in at an odd angle. He didn't even ask if I was unhurt.

This 'war' seemed like little more than unconnected battles, even a month into it. And Father had been right about the power of our military against theirs: one of our soldiers perished for every five, six, seven of theirs. I wondered how many of those Ovemians were either beggars of Prospers, neither of whom have anything to live for. I was actually surprised that no other nation had become involved yet.

"This promises to be a very short war," Father told me over lunch one day. "Didn't I say, Vaska, one month and Ovemia will be yours? Alhaz requests an end to hostilities."

I tilted my head. "A peace treaty?"

Father laughed. "Far from it. One final battle. King and heir prince of either side with five hundred soldiers each. I accepted, to humor his little hope at winning. I'm not entirely a bad sport, I'll have you know."

I couldn't eat any more at the meal, and stood to leave. The battle loomed a week away, and that week passed with the sluggish speed of a dream: it seemed long in passing, though only afterwards did I realize how quickly it truly went.

I wondered if Blue felt the same as I did.

~ ~ ~

We stood atop a grassy hill overlooking the site where the battle would take place, myself beside my father, and a field of soldiers as numerous as the blades of grass around us. The metal of our armor glinted in the sun; some distance away, the Ovemian soldiers waited, their leathers instead soaking up the light. I could not see Blue amid the autumn palette of fur tones.

Were this a fantasy story, Father would shout a valiant speech and send us into battle yelling and roaring; however, to him, that must have seemed like rubbing dirt in the wounds of our enemy, he was so determined and sure of victory. He said but one thing to me:

"Bring me the Lord Prince's pretty goddamned eyeballs."

We marched into the battle silent except for the clatter of steel plates. I had trouble drawing my sword; the end bore brownish-black flakes of dried blood, though the blade itself had resisted corrosion.

Blue - where was Blue? Since the start of it all, I had felt like an outside spectator of this war, someone who had no links to it, no ties. My blade clashed with those of the Ovemian soldiers, and the jarring along my arm was little more than an annoyance; what did manage to find revealed flesh between pieces of armor bit and then faded. However, I quickly grew distracted and panicked, and worked at isolating myself-

A big lion slammed into me, knocking me over, and held what would be a two-handed battleaxe in one. This was no beggar soldier; the crest on his chestpiece told me he was a royal bodyguard. I scrambled backwards, having dropped my weapon in the collision.

"Ooh," he purred, "you're Prince Vaska, aren't you? Ah, the price I could get for your head..." He lifted the battleaxe into the air, and I raised my arm in front of my face, knowing very well it would do nothing.

Right before he brought his weapon down, a voice rang out amid the cacophony of battle: "Falla!"

The lion looked over, said something in a different tongue, lowered his ears when the voice responded in the same language - I could not make it out above the chaos of everything else. He looked down at me, snarled, and went off, and then in his place stood a cheetah in leather armor dyed obsidian-black. I grabbed my sword and almost swept his legs out from under him when he offered a paw to me.

A warm paw that gripped with strength. I stood, and looked into eyes of molten azurite.

"Blue..."

"Shh." Still gripping my paw, he dragged me off and weaved through the combat. It wasn't long before we had escaped the writhing throng entirely, each soldier too involved in his own conflict to care about the two that ran by. "Vaska - I was so worried-"

"I know. I was too." We stopped in the shade of a wide tree in a little dip in the earth. "Gods - it is good to see you... though I would prefer it under different circumstances..."

He silenced me with a kiss. Ah - for how long I had yearned for the feel of his lips again! My heart fluttered in my chest, and he drew me into an ineffective hug, what with our armor... "This is madness, Vaska! War?"

"I know - your brother said an assassin attacked?"

"Yes. My father just - couldn't-"

"I know. Blue..." The noise of the nearby battle did nothing at all to calm my heart. Shakily, I started removing my gauntlets. "...what are we going to do? My father, damn him, is determined to win. He seeks to place me on the throne of Ovemia."

"What? What will happen to mine? What will happen to me, and all my brothers?" He took my paws as soon as the gauntlets clattered to the earth. "Vaska, if you take the throne, Fuzim will destroy you."

"...What? What does Fuzim have to do with this?"

Blue unhooked his blade - not a sword but more of a long dagger, about the length of my forearm - from his hip and rested it beside mine. "Did you think this was only between your nation and mine? There is one pass through the mountains separating Fuzim from Ovemia and most of the rest of the continent. They have paid close attention to our relations with other nations, as we are their only link to open trade - they offered us military support in all circumstances requiring it. Oh, they greatly dislike your father. A thousand soldiers wait behind the ridge past my army for Father's signal. Fuzim has been waiting for a reason to see Lethro removed from the throne."

My blood went cold in my veins. "An ambush."

"Vaska..."

"My father only brought five hundred, as agreed to. All you see out there is all we have."

Blue gave me a sad smile. "He is a dreadfully arrogant man."

I didn't know what to say. I tried to speak, tried to respond, but couldn't.

"Vaska... one of us will die today."

"I fear I know who it is." Our eyes met. His paws tightened on mine, and it looked as if he only now realized what that meant. "Blue... there are no greater warriors in the world than the dragons of Fuzim. No matter how this battle turns out, no matter what is negotiated with blades or words, they will cut my father down and slay me with him."

"I can't live without you! The days are painful enough when you are distant and I have hope of seeing you again. Were you to go where I cannot follow, and have that hope erased... I would not be able to bear it. I will not."

Either way, this... this force holding us together was doomed. If Father somehow defeated Alhaz and the dragons, which he wouldn't, he would ensure all of the King's 'spawn' lie dead with him. If I survived this, I would find myself hailed as King, a title I had never desired.

I swallowed. "Blue..."

He looked at me, tears at the edges of his eyes. "What?"

"Have I told you that you are everything to me?"

"No."

"Since the day I first laid eyes upon you, I knew that you had stolen my heart. I knew, and I let you keep it .You controlled my thoughts, my dreams, my desires and my idle moments. There had been something missing from my life, and I realized it was you. Gods - I can't... I can't put into words how much I wanted you, how much I needed you since that first day, and how much I still do. A world without you is a world without the sun, without light and warmth and beauty-"

He put a paw to his mouth to stifle a sob. In the distance, the call of a war horn rang out. "Vaska-"

Paws shaking, I grabbed his blade and pressed it into his paws. "I ask that you be the one to escort me to the gates of Shali." The goddess of death would welcome me.

Blue wipes his eyes, but instead of answering, gave me my own weapon as well and angled it under his chestpiece. If I thrusted, it would pierce up under his ribcage and sternum... "A sun with no earth to warm and illuminate is the blackest of lonely existences."

I moved the point of his blade between the overlapping plates of my own chestpiece. "Blue..."

"I love you, Vaska. I love you so much."

I blinked the tears from my eyes - I would not let my last sight of him be obscured. "I know. I love you too."

We leaned in to share one more kiss - and to share blades. I had to force myself to continue against resisting flesh and the pain of my own chest. With my other arm, I clutched him tight - I cried into his neck, against his fleeting pulse

and shuddering breaths

which then abruptly

ceased.

I could not straighten up amid the pain. Blood oozed out of my chest down along his blade, long enough to wound but not to kill... and I knew if I looked, I would not see the same beautiful gems that had captivated me. I remembered Prosper's eyes, I remembered Taris's.

I wanted to die remembering my Blue, my Lord Prince, retaining the beauty that I knew to be his.

I wanted to die...

~ ~ ~

We lost the war. Father found himself victorious for only a handful of minutes after he killed Alhaz shortly following the war horn; then, some eight hundred-odd dragons surrounded him. I was told that he asked for mercy, then begged, then screamed, and then went silent.

Ovemia was not the only nation he had wronged. Apparently he had done enough to demand intervention from the Emperor himself; had Lethro returned from the battle, he would have found a Queen Regent on his throne. It would have been the first official and royally-mandated exilation in history.

I awoke a week or so later in a bed at the Howell palace. The Queen herself had waited every day for my awakening; the first thing she said to me was "Good morning, King Vaska." She had spoken to my mother about Father's arrangements, and accepted that Alhaz had been slain by his hand. An odd languidness weighed down her words, but she maintained an uneven smile for my sake.

"I understand that you may deny the title or will be unable to carry the responsibility," she told me later that day when she brought me lunch, the same meat I'd had and enjoyed so much during the diplomatic meeting. The knife she provided was far too sharp to be sensible for use in a meal. "In that case, the Emperor will appoint a new king, and you will be free to grace the halls of both here and your home as nobility and royalty." Her words were unspirited, weak. I asked about her children; she told me my father had diverted a squad of soldiers - infiltrators - here before the last battle to eliminate each one of them. The Queen only survived because she was at the market.

She told me she buried them herself near the apple orchard in the garden. There were four graves for six children: my father had ordered Taris's corpse dumped into the nearest lake, and Blue's body lay at the bottom of a mass grave near the border, dug for all the soldiers who had perished in the battle. A single prayer was said over the vast mound, and that was deemed enough.

The Queen left me to eat in peace. I did not. Thick blankets covered me and some heavy painkiller buzzed through my veins, but I felt cold. She had left the window open to the garden, but the harsh sunlight and putrid odor of all the flowers sickened me.

The knife fit perfectly in my paw. I tested its balance, felt its weight. It was an assassin's stiletto.

I tilted my head back and swallowed. The knife's cool kiss against my throat calmed me; its bite was sharp but not unpleasant...

Slick warmth seeped out over my neck and the blankets, slick crimson warmth. Sharp pain and a jolt of muscle jarred my focus for a moment, but I carried on through it.

It was a welcoming darkness that greeted me.

~