Prologue:

           " What am I going to do with you, Prince Issai?" Tugging on his thick beard, King Shion paced in a slow circle around the young prince. " I can't bear the thought of squandering my resources on the son of my enemy. To have you eating my food, wearing my clothes, sleeping under my roof!"

            The prince stood calmly, his exotic gray-green eyes staring straight ahead through delicate, black-framed glasses, his slender hands clasped loosely behind his back. Silent.

           The king stopped at the prince's side, his breath brushing past his long, dark mustache to tickle the boy's smooth, bronze skin. " I could just throw you into the dungeon and leave you there...forgotten... " he sneered.

            Prince Issai lifted his chin defiantly, his gaze unwavering.

            "... But that would be too easy," the king continued, running a thick finger along his prisoner's softly angled jaw line. " And you would bear it with too much dignity, I think. "

            He slid his pale jade eyes to glance the king's broad, dusky face. " There is no such thing as 'too much dignity', Your Majesty, especially not for an honorable man in adverse circumstances."

            "Predictable!" The king stepped in front of the prince, grabbing his throat. "But you have yet to experience adverse circumstances, boy! "

            Gasping for air, Issai clutched at the hand around his neck. The king's other hand roughly stroked his cheek then crushed the prince's full, rosy lips under his thumb. " I'll have to see how much adversity you can handle, Prince. I'm curious." Shion's dark eyes narrowed with malice. He shoved the prince back several feet until the boy's knees smacked into the antique sofa behind him and he fell. The king leaned over him, his hand still on Issai's slender throat, crushing him into the cushions. The prince struggled, his blue-black hair slipping free of the clasp that had held his usually neat long tail down his back. Silky midnight strands splayed in a frenzy as the young prince thrashed, trying to break free of the husky and much stronger king.

            "I'm no use to you dead." Issai gasped, still prying at the hand around his throat.

            "Oh, I have no intentions of killing you, my dear prince," Shion sneered. He pressed his other hand to the squirming boy's slim stomach, attempting to hold him still. " No, I want to break you, not kill you."

            Issai's eyes widened in true fear. " W...what are you meaning?!" he choked.

            The king gave him a sly smile. " Afraid, boy?" He laughed while releasing his hold and standing. " Perhaps fortunate for you, my tastes don't include boys. "

            Shion took a few steps away from the couch, folding his arms across his broad chest. The prince clutched his throat, his eyes wide and wary, panting and fighting to regain even a semblance of normal breathing." Though I wouldn't degrade myself with such as you, if it did. "

            Issai glared at his dark captor, his chest rising and falling in rapid heaves.

            "No. I'll think of something more suitable," again the grin that by now was making the young prince physically sick.

            A soft tap at the door distracted Issai from the bile and disgust rising from his gut. He turned, peering through the black fall of his loose hair to the large mahogany door, his slight body hunched over and trembling.

            " Enter, " King Shion said as he too turned to face the doorway.

            The door opened and a tall figure, much taller than either the stocky king or slender Prince Issai, stepped elegantly into the room. He clicked together the heels of high, black-leather boots and flowed his slender body into a graceful bow.

            "Your Majesty." His voice was smooth and low, a slight resonance added by the shining silver helm that hid all of his face except for a blanched chin, and flushed pale and serious lips. Wavy black hair curled from underneath the helm, teasing over slender but strong shoulders. He straightened, smoothing his maroon and gold uniform jacket with a white gloved hand. The helm turned to face the raven-haired prince on the sofa, the visored eye slits shadowing the man's eyes, leaving a shortened breath as the only visible reaction.

            "I apologize, your Majesty," he said quietly, yet not diverting his hidden gaze from the prince. "I did not know you had company."

            Shion noticed with interest the slight trembling of the gloved hand and the stilted breathing as the young man stared at the royal hostage behind him. An amused smile quirked his lips. Ah, yes. Perfect.

            " No need to worry about it, dear boy. " His grin widened. He had just found his answer. " We have concluded our business anyway."

Part 1:

            Sasha stared at the ornate key in his gloved hand. At the head, a figure of a bull was wrought in the polished iron, an emerald-green tassel hanging from the joining of it's metal horns. He still wasn't sure if he could go through with this.

But he was so very, very lonely. And the king had insisted he accept this gift, that it would be good for him. Good for him to just this once indulge himself to relieve, even for just a short time, the loneliness that shrouded every moment of every day of his life. He sighed and brushed away a tear that started to roll down his cheek, smudging the dirt of road dust onto a dulled white glove.

            Why did he have to be this desperate? To seek physical affection... no... any affection... from one who had no choice but to give it? Why did he have to be born as he was? A freak. So repulsive to everyone that even hiding all of himself barely allowed him friendships. He could never hope for more than that. He was pathetic and he knew it. But he was lonely, and he knew that more.

            He curled his hand tightly around the key, his shoulders heaving in a deep sigh. Jerking his heels into his gray stallion's sides, he spurred Kaze into a gallop. The sooner he got to this 'Palace', the less time he'd have to change his mind.

            He turned the key slowly in the lock, still uncertain. However, he was road-weary. It had taken him four days to finally get to the Palace, stopping from time to time on the side of the road to rest, avoiding the several inns that dotted his route. A willowy ghost in a stout darkness, he hated the stares and strange looks he got wherever he went, even with his careful efforts at covering himself. Besides, he liked the outdoors, the one place he felt free and accepted.

            He opened the door, shoulders sagging in tiredness. What his masked eyes met was more incredible than he ever expected.

            A sense of softness and comfort and a faint melody pervaded the room. Cream-colored walls surrounded him. Silk scrolls hung precisely spaced, each beautifully painted in a light, emotive watercolored style of delicate flowers, majestic mountains towering above glistening lakes, cool, rushing waterfalls. Several included flowing calligraphy of some foreign script he couldn't understand. Ceiling-high bookshelves, stacked tightly with an endless variety of books, covered one corner. He noted that he would have to peruse the selections later, perhaps finding some works of interest, such as military histories, texts on swordsmanship and tactics, or even horse-breeding or horticulture.

            He stepped forward, his leather riding boots echoing softly on the smooth, polished wooden floor, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. Sasha set his traveling pack on the floor beside him and continued further into the room.

            Low and encircled by plump cushions of vibrant blue, purple, and gold silk, a black lacquered table marked the center of the room. Artfully painted screens partitioned one corner, blocking the view of what existed behind them. A trail of lavender silk drifted from a screen near the wall to fall among multi-colored silks and satins spilling over a large futon set against another corner, piled with soft pillows and bolsters, also silk and satin. It had a comfortable 'slept-in' look that brought a nervous twinge to his stomach.

            He turned back to the low table and the shoji screens of rich, polished wood and oiled rice paper lining the back wall. He strode forward, past the black piano set in the remaining corner. The quiet song lulling the room grew stronger. Sasha soundlessly slid aside the nearest screen and gasped at the lush garden beyond.

            Verdant bushes rolled like thick green waves along the lengths of the high garden wall, clustering at the far end amongst full, fruit trees, ripe in reds, oranges and yellows. In the furthest corner, a small waterfall gurgled and rushed from dark, moss-covered rock into a glittering pool. Vivid red, violet, blue, and yellow, delicate flowers, at the edge of the crystal blue water, swayed heavy with dew from the falling mist, as though dancing to the song stirring in the breeze. Beautiful.

            But, most breathtaking was a lone figure sitting by the small pool. He gently strummed the haunting melody on a guitar nestled in his lap, softly singing, his melodic baritone so beautiful and deep birds would have envied it. His long black hair shimmered sapphire in the sunlight as it fell down his back clasped in a neat tail.

            Sasha bit his lip, clutching his hands together to stop them from shaking. How ... why... could he be here? It had been over two months since he had last seen him, the first time only a few days before that. Why him? Why? He definitely couldn't stay now. Not with him. He wouldn't be able to bear it. A stranger maybe... not that he wasn't a stranger... but he was... different... special. He wasn't the same as a stranger, even though all he knew was only his name and who he was, and none of that information from the prince himself. No.. he had to leave. Perhaps this was a sign from the gods that he was meant to be alone. That he wasn't meant to be held, or caressed or...

            He wiped away a tear as he turned to leave. He took a step; the weariness in his muscles and bones reminded him how tired he was. He would leave in the morning, after he rested. That would be best.

            That decided, there was no harm in listening a little longer to the lovely song. And no harm in quietly watching the beautiful prince, the most majestic creature Sasha had ever seen: hair as darkest midnight, when the moon is gently snuggled behind wispy violet clouds; skin a creamy bronze, so smooth and perfect; and those eyes, though he was too far to see them now, they had forever been burned into his memory from that first fateful meeting. He could... would... never forget them, shining like smoky, marbled jade, pale and exotic and perfect. His breath had been stolen that first moment, that first glimpse into the beauty, nobility, strength, gentleness of those pale green eyes, and the second, and the third...

            Sasha didn't realize how weak his legs had become until the soft green grass cushioned his trembling fingers. He found himself kneeling, almost as in reverence to the elegant music and the prince that created it. The captivating voice drew him to calm and he stretched out onto his back, long slender legs relaxing, crossing at the ankles, and slid his arms under his helmeted head. His face turned so his hidden eyes remained on the dark prince by the pool, he drowned his fatigued body in the soothing softness of the garden. The gentle melody floating from the pool eased his tired muscles and wrapped his soul and mind in sweet caresses he knew his hideous skin would never feel. For now all that mattered was the haunting song and the haunting prince who summoned it. Every ache drifted away, taken by the melody: the aches of his travels; aches of his wrists, as the metal shrouding his face pressed them towards tingling pain; aches of his heart, that same metal mask constantly reminding him of the barrier between himself and everyone, a barrier no one dared or desired to cross.

            As a soft breeze flowed over him, brushing his ink black waves of fine hair across his pale chin and the little that was exposed of his slender neck, it carried teases of lavender, honeysuckle, and rose, and fresh, cleansing water, and other scents he couldn't identify and was too at peace to truly care. He drifted with the song, and his helm-shadowed eyes slowly slipped closed as sleep claimed him.