s a t a n i c s.

   but that’s not what worries him. what’s worrying is the dull thud behind him,    a sound he has heard before in an entirely different context.

   quickly he’s pushing himself back up to his feet, and all his fears confirm    through the sudden panic in the audience and a handful of guards rushing    towards them. he turns to catch satan’s gaze as the angel looks at him,    sees the wound bleeding gold from his chest, the stained arrow at his feet,    and realizes that he should be dead right now. it was a shot aimed right    at the heart.

   then satan is hurrying towards him, not apparently phased by taking such    a hit. pallis’ hands fly to satan, touching, affirming, diagnosing. satan is    much more concerned over his well-being, though, and this causes pallis    to glance about the buildings crouching around the square. in which of    these did the would-be assassin lie? were they lining up another shot as    the two stood out in the open, sitting ducks for them? or perhaps they    were making a panicked escape at their failure. that would make them    sloppy, easy to catch.

   pallis shoves a guard away, barks an authoritative ‘hey!’ at the lot. ) 

            ❝ The assassin is still out there. go catch him while             he’s distracted, and calm this panic! ❞

   ( they seem to have qualms about leaving pallis with just satan as pro-    tection, but pallis knows they’ll be fine. there are more important things    right now, as much as pallis would hate for satan to be wounded for his    sake. the guards scamper off to inform superiors, search buildings, to    work. pallis keeps satan close, begins walking him off the stage, with    one eye constantly on the roofs. )

        ` i've suffered far worse in my lifetime, i'll live. ` at the next         question, he shakes his head. ` i only saw it just in time to         save you. `

        it's hard to fight the tears that threaten to fill his eyes. if he         hadn't looked up, if he hadn't moved in time, pallis would be         dying right before his very eyes and there would be nothing         he could do to stop it. swallowing, he tastes blood in his mouth.

        satan touches the deep wound through his robe. it hurts still.         the angel feels woozy. normally, a wound like this wouldn't phase         him so much, but considering it was right through the heart...

        he needs to sit down.

   it’s more than just a folk festival for pallis, however. this is always an    important time for the royal family, as a display of power, an appeal to    the masses through festivities and entertainment and feasting. it lasts    several days, and begins with the commencement speech given afore    the gates of the palace by the king.

   he’s sick in bed, so the responsibility falls to pallis this year.

   pallis has never had much trouble with stage fright, but there is some    strange quality to the air this year. he waits to the side of a great wood    platform for the first speaker to introduce him. it is a famous musician    in the dark, one who is to give a concert later on in the night.

   satan is with him, a constant type of shadow in negative at these sorts    of things ever since the announcement of their courtship. now, tucked    out of sight for the time being, their hands are clasped, they murmur    soft, warm words before each other’s faces with demure smiles. when    the cue is given, reluctantly, pallis tugs satan gently out onto the stage    with him, a serious but happy expression settling into his face. it is, of    course, important that satan be shown to the public, should he become    their monarch by virtue of matrimony. it’s quite the serious action, for    him to accompany pallis on stage as he gives his speech.

   needless to say, satan need not speak. pallis has memorized what he    will say, spent countless hours agonizing over what to include and so    on. and he begins, projecting well as he has practiced, continuing with    all the ease of someone accustomed to publicity. the crowd seems to    be pleased with it, from the reverent silence they give him and the few    faces he can see from behind staged lighting.

        he and pallis bump foreheads, rub their noses together and whisper         softly among the loud chatter of the audience. satan is sure to give         his love a kiss of good luck before they move up on stage, the angel         keeping behind the prince with his hands clasped in front of him. even         though pallis is the one demanding respect in his current position,         satan still radiates a certain amount of power that the crowd can feel.         his chin is lifted, eyes hooded and almost daring as they cast over         the audience.

        by chance does he turn his eyes from the onlookers to the buildings         around them, to the sky. a serene smile nearly makes its way onto his         lips, just nearly, before he sees the blur moving through the air over         the heads of the audience. they seem oblivious to it. it moves too fast         for them, too fast for any human to avoid.

        luckily, satan isn't human; luckily, satan is faster.

        slamming into pallis' side, he sends the prince stumbling. the arrow         embeds itself into satan's flesh. it quivers from the force of impact. it         hurts, it hurts terribly, but it's nothing that can kill the angel. wound         him? yes. kill? never. he's stronger than that. but he does cringe, grind         his teeth, grab the arrow and rip it out and hold it in the air. golden         blood gleams on the silver edge.

        the audience is sitting there in stunned silence. satan drops the arrow.         it clatters to the wooden stage. his eyes still search windows, rooftops.         then he turns his eyes to pallis, and his cold, calculating demeanor         fades. everything happens at once. guards rush him to aid, he rushes         to pallis, the audience is sent swarming.

            ❝ I should hope not. Even here             we have laws against that. ❞

     he’s had the entire odyssey home to grieve, and he feels he couldn’t      cry any more if he wanted to. pallis just wants to feel grateful for that      which he still has. ) 

            ❝ Were you trying to replace me with a cat? ❞

        ` a cat can't love me like you do. `

      they lay together in silence, absorbing the soothing warmth of       the bath as pallis strokes his back absently. it chills eventually       and drives them to stand, satan first. pallis follows by the hand.

      they return to their bedroom and pallis has never felt more re-       lieved to sink into the satin sheets and down pillows. he curls,       on his side, waits for satan to sink into the space next to him       so familiarly. ) 

        very slowly, he sinks down on the bed beside pallis, tucks himself         against the other's lithe frame and nestles against his chest. slender         arms lace about pallis' waist, and satan kisses him on the collarbone.

      pallis kisses his forehead through the soft bangs before pulling       satan back down in the bed, scooching and maneuvering until       they are lying as they had been post-coitus. ) 

        turning his head to look up at pallis, he smiles big, leans in         to kiss him, uses a hand to rumple his hair.

      after so long of wandering, like a vagrant, a peasant, it       is both strange and comforting to be back amongst the       pleasures of royalty, to be back in the arms, the care,       of his love. satan dunks his head gently to rinse sweet       shampoo from his locks, and when he resurfaces, he       leans up to kiss the angel. )

        he agrees.

        pallis should have let adakias live the life he wanted. should         have left him be. if the younger brother ever wanted to return         to the dark, he would have in time.

        silently, he returns the kiss. then he combs his slender fingers         through dark locks, settles himself comfortably into pallis' lap         and nuzzles his cheek. it's unshaven and tickles his golden         skin. like this, pallis doesn't really look like himself.

      he curls up on the bed and trembles for want of his warmth,       is relieved when he returns to him and envelopes him with       feather and flesh. he is ever grateful that such a holy being       would deign to gather him up in his brokenness, even now.

      and now he’s being stood, slipping into satin, shuffled into       the hall and towards the bathroom by satan. the servants       stand by, but do not interfere.

      they enter the bathroom, the pleasant aromas rising from       the steaming bath already calming pallis’ agitated spirits.       it’s an ample basin, big enough to fit two comfortably, and       pallis does not seem be releasing his hold on the angel       anytime soon.

      he does, of his own volition, untie the robe with trembling       fingers, slips out of it as satan steers him toward the bath.       the angel scoops him up as though he were paper, allows       him to gently slide into the scented water, but pallis does       not let go, looks up at him with reddened eyes. ) 

        ` i missed you, ` he states in return.

        turning around to face him, he finds a washcloth and very         gently begins to run it across pallis' pale skin, slick with         sweat. he pays special attention to pallis' hands, which         are stained with dry blood, scrubbing them until they're         red and picking the blood out from beneath his nails.

            ❝ And I’m in love with an angel. ❞

   ( he smiles into flaxen hair, bittersweet and breathes in the       smell he associates with his lover. ) 

        satan should really keep him close. soon, he needs to sort his         feelings out. soon, he needs to tell pallis how he really feels.

      his story might have worsened matters at one point, but now       it is a comfort to pallis. satan understands this. understands       having your skin soaked in blood you loved so much. ) 

            ❝ We were in the Dark when it happened.             He had found this girl, the Princess of the             Light, and they meant to elope, but illness             overcame her. It was Adakias’ presence,             our blood is so tainted that it affected her.

            They came to this mad doctor who lives in             the foothills and he had cured her disease             when I found them. I was so spiteful, full of             malice, and I… I tried to convince him, that             he should return. He’s never stood up to me             like he did then, but I only grew angrier.

            I thought it was the only way to get him to             come back with me, so I tried to… to kill her.             The princess. I tried to stab her and Adakias,             he, he just had to play the hero, jumped in             front of me and I couldn’t, there was nothing,             I stabbed him my own brother my own flesh             and blood and he had the audacity to say I             had tried to protect him. Who am I kidding?             It was never about keeping him safe. I was             selfish, I was cruel and selfish and now he’s             dead because of my stubbornness. ❞

        ` you did try to protect him, ` he assures softly, ` you did... `

        the angel sits up, pallis in his lap, and he begins to undress         the prince from his bloody, filthy clothing until he's bare and         shivering against golden skin. pallis continues to latch onto         him, making it hard to move the other onto the other side         of the bed so he can tell the chamberlains lingering outside         to prepare a bath.

        and he returns as quickly as he can, sharing his warmth         with pallis and curling both arms around him protectively.         his wings appear along his back, enveloping the man in         his arms in feathery softness until the chamberlains return         to tell them the bath is ready.

      but he turns his attentions back to satan, glances down while       the other tucks his head atop pallis’ shoulder. he relaxes into       this, shoulders slumping slightly, and brings an arm to wrap       about satan’s waist, pull him close. ) 

        ` you had every right to be angry. i... `

        golden hair tickles a swollen jaw. satan shakes his head.