The end-of-monsoon-season sun bathed the tiny world in a myriad of soft, red hues. It was warm and the trees that bore red fruit were in full bloom. The warmth filled the silence of the field northwest of the tree line, teasing until it was swollen with the soft buzz of insects. Bare feet sank into soft, enticing earth. The high grass that filled the field brushed gently at the thighs of the one who walked there.
He was beautiful, the would be emperor of this lonely planet. He wore a light, colorful robe, belted loosely at the hip. With each step, the sides parted revealing an incredibly long, slender leg. In a crowd, he would probably stand a head or two taller than the average human. His skin was pale but somehow luminous. His dark hair was long, cascading down his back and below the waist. His small, lush mouth was shiny with the juice of a fruit from the orchard nearby. The fickle insects flirted with the sticky wet that still dripped from his fingers before soaring up and away.
Beyond the slope dead ahead, was the opulent palace that had been built to his specifications a lifetime ago. On the island on the opposite hemisphere was a rural colony or humans who knew well enough to leave this place alone. How long had the man slept undisturbed in this place? How long had it been since he found himself unable submit to oblivion? Hadn’t he once longed for that more than anything else? How long had it been since his rest had first been disturbed by the fall of the Prideful Hooligan and her taciturn pilot? He bit his lower lip thoughtfully. The years passed quickly in a star system as compact as this. By galactic standard reckoning though, it would have been only five years since Nikol had crash landed.
Pras awakened from centuries of slumber, had risen from his underground chamber. For reasons he could not even begin to fathom, he had treated the human’s injuries and welcomed him into his home. The free spirited pilot had somehow become Pras’ periodic companion. He’d been surprised the first time Nikol returned to him from whatever strange compulsion kept him wandering among the stars. He returned again and again and Pras, weary of his self imposed isolation, would look forward to these reunions. Time and time again, he’d found himself yearning for those moments spent with the curious man who’d unknowingly made a safe haven of an immortal's lair. He'd found that he wouldn't--couldn't bring himself to reveal the truth of who and what he was to Nikol. Even today, he had no intention of doing so.
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Dark, dreamy eyes searched the sky with longing. “He’s late,” he murmured, breath catching on a faintly plaintive note. “He should be here by now. Shouldn’t he?”
A slight tremor ran through the ground. Pras shielded his eyes against the rays of the red dwarf and scanned the stratosphere. He heard the mechanical hum of the Prideful Hooligan before her shadow broke through the clouds. A smile split across his face. He waited until the squat vessel set down in the shadow of the slope before he approached. He was halfway there when his smile fled and worry and outrage clutched at him. He hastened his steps, both desperate to get there faster, yet careful not to move in a way in which Nikol was not accustomed.
He'd been injured. Badly. The bandage that hid his dark hair also covered up one gray eye. One arm hung awkwardly at his side. There were other injuries too, that Pras couldn’t see. They were only days old. The blood smell that seeped out of Nikol was maddening. The pain he was experiencing had to be incredible, yet he was smiling, damn him!
“You know,” Pras murmured as they slowly made their way to his home. “There are many worlds between Avanu and this one, some with advanced medicine.”
Nikol grinned. “It would have added too many days to my trip. I could really use some sleep now though, Pras. And some of that awful tea you always make me drink...” His voice trailed away.
“Nikol!” Pras surged forward as he swayed swayed dizzily.
“What happened?” Pras demanded softly, when he couldn’t stand wondering anymore. “What happened to you?”
He scowled when Nikol only shrugged, wincing as pain flashed through his body. “Ran into a little trouble at Mikonos.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“The worst sort. The kind that lets me know I’m lucky to be alive.” He sobered. “The known worlds are at war, Pras - with an enemy we can’t even begin to understand. We’re losing. You wouldn’t believe how many worlds are already dead.” For a moment, his features contorted into a mask of rage and grief but he shook it away and managed a ghost of a smile. “I wanted to see you, even if only for one last time.”
Stunned, Pras led Nikol to his above-ground bedchamber. He helped him to lie down and out of his tunic. With a heavy heart, he brought soft coverings to keep him warm. He sat beside him, unable to speak, unable to dislodge the frozen lump that made his throat hurt. One last time, he’d said. One last time...
“Listen Pras,” Nikol was murmuring. I brought you a long range communicator. I want you to take it from my ship. After I’m gone, I want you to listen. Listen for the warning because even this place won’t be spared. Even here. They're going to...”
He came to warn me. Why does a human think he can protect me?
Pras wondered, briefly forgetting that Nikol didn’t know. He couldn’t bear it anymore. His eyes bored into Nikol’s.
“Sleep.” He commanded imperiously.
Nikol blinked in surprise, instinctively fighting off the compulsion to obey. His fight was brief. Pras sighed, immensely relieved when his eyes finally closed.
He wept even as he proceeded to heal Nikol’s wounds. “Now I remember,” his muttered antagonistically, “why I hate humans. You’re all so frail and stupid!” He railed at the sleeping man. “If there’s only madness waiting out there for you, why return to it?”
He wanted to do more than just heal him. He was besieged by the urge to tie Nikol to him. Make him live forever, to stop this mad dash toward his own doom. Fangs erupted in his mouth. The temptation, the urge to act on it gripped him with a fearsome measure of intensity. The strain on his heart was terrible. It made his eyes burn. His head dipped low. His teeth grazed the soft skin at the pilot’s neck.
“Pras?”
Nikol’s sleepy whisper paralyzed him. He remained where he was, the sound of the younger man’s heartbeat thundering in his ears. He remained where he was, eyes shifted sideways. He watched the sudden rapid rise and fall of Nikol’s chest. He felt it! Even in such a deep, forced sleep. Had he been awakened by it, the violence that was about to be inflicted on him?
Pras’ heart quailed. He swallowed hard, reining in the beast within. He jerked away, strangely horrified by what he’d been about to do. Mortified. He snarled even as he withdrew into the darkest corner of the room. Why was he ashamed--the one who'd once killed thousands without a second thought? The one who, many times over had been god and demon alike to so many worlds, in so may life-times. Why was he ashamed of this small thing?
The damnable words fell from his lips before he could stop them.
“Forgive me, Nikol.”
