Randomness

Part 1

Posted: July 2003
Title: Randomness
Type: RPS
Author: Estella Greenleaf
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom, Karl Urban, David Wenham
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Don't know anything. All of this is not true, a figment of my sick imagination.
Warning: AU, in a world that's a mix of space and magic.
Author's note: Okay, was reading Of Princes and Slaves by Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus last night and got ‘inspired'. I know I have tons of other stuff to write, but I felt like doing this since it makes me happy =D Sorry… This is going to be random funniness, like Never Been Kissed.

*****

Viggo had lost count of how many times he had cursed the fates since his humiliating capture three days ago. Now, chained to the ceiling by his mortal enemies, pain in his shoulders so excruciating that he felt as if his arms were slowly being torn off, he could not help doing it one more time. Even if he did not get out of this alive, which was most likely the case, he would forever haunt the idiots at Central Intelligence who sent him here to assassinate the infamous Butcher Bob. That sorry excuse of a human was not even ON the ship! Apparently, there was a last minute replacement no one bothered to inform him about.

The swooshing noise of his cell door opening behind him interrupted his musing. "So, ready to tell us who you are and who you work for yet?"

Great, it's the pervert and the brute's turn to interrogate him. He'd learn to prefer the other two sick bully's questioning instead. At least with them, his private parts didn't get any attention. Viggo gave them his usual silent treatment. When were these idiots going to learn that he was a professional and would die before being broken? As he bit his lips to stifle a cry as his tormentor's electric shocker found his nipple, he wished the fools didn't have to learn their lesson at his expense.

"Oh, come on, Bill. You've been using those toys on him all day. Let me have a go. I bet he'll be singing after a little TLC," said the pervert in his annoying oily voice. Viggo swore that he would find a way to kill himself before the sick bastard laid a finger on him. After that, he could only hope he got turned into a deadly vengeful spirit…it would be nice to wring his tormentors' necks.

"I don't know, man. Isn't that against captain's orders?" asked the stupid brute, who wasn't that much ‘better' than the pervert. He was the one deliberately targeting Viggo's ‘sensitive areas' for torture after all.

"Who's going to know if we don't tell?"

"You were saying?" commented a soft, lilting voice, accompanied by the sound of the door opening. The assassin knew at once the newcomer was no ordinary soldier; his accent was too cultured and refined….maybe he's a courtier of some sort. But why would an honorable gentleman be visiting his cell?

"My Prince," whispered the two guards as they moved behind Viggo to face the visitor. Though the assassin could not see them, he knew they were kneeling to the newcomer in fear. The dark-haired man could only hope that the royal scoundrel wasn't here because his identity had been discovered. It would be another major humiliation for Junia, having its top assassin captured only a year after its best warrior was enslaved.

"I hereby claim the prisoner as my own. Have him cleaned and brought to my room before dinner," commanded the Prince with quiet authority.

Viggo could sense the guards' doubts and discontent at having to give up their favorite punching bag. But neither was stupid enough to question the word of a Metaricanan royalty. It looked like he would now have a new opponent in his quest to keep his honor intact.

*****

Orlando paced in his private chambers of the spaceship nervously. He didn't know why he was so anxious, but he wanted his prisoner to like him. He even deliberately dressed in the finest blue velvet robes he brought on this journey, wishing to impress the man with his beauty. This stranger was the one; Orlando could feel it with every single cell of his body.

The Prince had worked extremely hard to obtain ownership of the prisoner. When the captain of the warship refused to co-operate, the young Prince took the trouble of hunting down his now-reclusive father to charm the old man into giving him a pleasure slave as an early birthday present. But to the chagrin of the second Prince of Metaricana, the official documents of possession took a full three days to arrive.

In the meantime, the captain had been torturing his poor future lover. Orlando was glad that the handsome man had remained ‘untouched' by the lustful soldiers and guards on board during his captivity. Or else, the young Prince swore that heads would roll. The violent possessiveness he had towards his new slave surprised the usually gentle Orlando; though Davie had warned him about it, such protective urges were still weird; just like the impure thoughts he had never dreamed he would have. He would bet his sudden interest in sex was the ‘strange changes' that his friend mentioned with a blush and refused to elaborate on.

The young man's musings were cut short when the door to his room opened. Four guards accompanied his prisoner, who was bound in iron shackles. Orlando would bring this up with the captain later…iron was for common thieves; courtesy to fellow warriors dictated captive soldiers be bound in energy cuffs. And the assassin was without a doubt a supreme fighter, judging from his well-toned muscular physique, put on full display in the tradition loincloth of a slave.

Despite the numerous bruises that marred his features, the dark-haired man's rugged handsomeness was clearly visible. But it was his eyes that set him apart - though the dark-haired man was captured, his gaze was intense and fiery, stormy grey pools that Orlando would gladly drown in. All in all, the prisoner was so attractive that the Prince had to mentally slap himself to refrain from drooling over him in front of the guards. Appalled at his ‘juvenile' behavior, Orlando dismissed the soldiers and requested dinner for two be brought to his chambers immediately.

*****

"Have a seat," offered the young Prince as soon as the door closed, pointing to the comfortable couch opposite his bed.

Viggo was never good at playing submissive, but his body ached from being suspended by chains for the past three days. Accepting the Prince's offer would not hurt. Without a word, the older man strolled to the sofa with his panther-like grace and sat.

"I'm Orlando. What's your name?" smiled the dark-haired youth as he took his seat opposite his new slave on his bed.

When no answer came, Orlando added, "Well, I suppose that's a better response than ‘A worm like you isn't worthy of knowing my name!'. Karl actually said that. Drove Davie nuts. Watching those two duke it out was fun, kind of like the Clash of the Titans."

Viggo briefly wondered if the Karl the Prince referred to was Lord Urban, the Lion of the Southern Stars. The brilliant warrior was betrayed and captured about a year ago. According to Central Intelligence, the man was now imprisoned at the Hyrule Temple in the heart of Metaricana, enslaved by the magic of High Priest Wenham himself.

Forcing his mind back to the matter at hand, Viggo tried to read his enemy, but the only fact that kept iterating itself in his mind was that Orlando was exquisite. Large, expressive chocolate eyes watched him with shy interest; a mop of dark curls framed a delicately sculpted face with the prettiest smile he had ever seen. And then, there was the lithe, supple body showcased in a clingy velvet robe. If he weren't this Prince's slave, he would be trying to seduce the delectable creature right now.

"What are you thinking?" asked the Prince as he noticed the suddenly hungry look his companion cast his way. He was of a mind to free his ‘slave' from his constraints; but now, he wasn't as sure. He had enough magic to defend his own honor; but supposedly, his powers would not work against the one born to break the seal on his magic. Davie warned him about that too.

Viggo continued staring at his enemy, giving the Prince his usual silent treatment. Except of course, there was nothing usual about what he was thinking right now – it was not everyday he wondered if his captor would moan prettily when he sheathed his arousal inside his tight heat. Speaking of arousal….the loincloth he wore was not optimal to hide his reactions to Orlando's charms. The assassin began to wonder if spending time with the Prince would be worse torture than the violence in the prison compartment. At least there, he could not do anything to embarrass himself.

Orlando frowned slightly before noticing the huge bulge between his prisoner's legs. The innocent Prince immediately averted his eyes as he blushed a bright shade of red. He supposed it was nice to know that the older man at least desired him. That was pretty much what Karl and Davie started with; and now, those two were the happiest couple Orlando knew. He could make things work with Viggo. The Prince searched his brain for some ‘harmless' chatter to break the silence, but came back empty-handed. Luckily, their dinner was there to solve all of Orlando's problems.

*****

"Are you hungry?"

No answer…well, maybe food didn't solve all his problems. "Come on, try some. The S.S. Evenstar is supposed to have the best food in the entire fleet," pleaded the Prince as he held a piece of cold-cut ham to his prisoner's lips.

Viggo was starving. But he was not going to suffer the humiliation of being fed. He would continue his ‘diet' unless his captor freed his hands to eat. But then, if the stupid Prince did that, he would do much more than eat. Like pushed Orlando onto the bed and ripped his robes off and ….umm, nope, that's not what he meant. He was going to use the destroyed garment to tie the Prince up and escape… right, that's what he intended to do.

Before another word was said, the screen on the wall turned on to reveal a gorgeous, athletically built blond man wearing only a pair of tight blue leggings that matched his cerulean eyes. "Hey, Orli."

"Davie, you called back!"

"Of course, you are my special little Orli-bear," smiled the High Priest before deciding to go all out and smooch the camera.

"Hey, watch that. I might get jealous, you know," laughed a deep baritone in the background.

When the second speaker came onscreen, Viggo was stunned to note that it was Lord Urban, dressed in a rich brown velvet robe, perfectly gloomed as befitting a noble of his status. The stern warrior proceeded to shock the assassin some more by wrapping his arms around the handsome blond's waist possessively and nuzzling his neck.

"Cut the PDA, will you? So how did it go?" asked the Prince excitedly, hoping that his prayers were answered. He could not bear to see any more blood shed in his brother's quest for power. Raphael was so cruel and bloodthirsty that the young man was ashamed to call him kin.

"The usual. With Bob and Raphael joining forces, and you away on a mission, no one dared to speak out. If the King of Saina doesn't come up with the annual dues to our Emperor by the end of this month, Metaricana will treat it as an act of insolence and crush the planet," sighed the blond sadly. This was one of the instances when he hated his status as the impartial High Priest of Hyrule. All he could do was stew in silent anger as the two warmongers plotted the death of thousands of innocent people to satisfy their twisted sense of glory.

"Oh god, that's horrible! Everyone knows there is a draught in Saina for the past two years. The planet can't even afford to feed its own people! I can't believe no one spoke for them."

"Don't worry your pretty head, little Orli-bear. I've already made arrangements to transfer some funds from Hyrule to Sania. It's not much, but their King should be able to acquire the necessary gifts for your father," reassured the High Priest with a small smile.
He knew how much the young Prince cared for those less fortunate than himself. If Orlando were the heir to the throne, the universe would be a much better place.

"Davie…"

"Don't worry about it. Everyone at the Temple is either a priest or a scribe; we have no use for the ridiculous amount of wealth all the rich planets pile on us to gain our favor. We may not be the official Guardians of Peace any more; but we are not going to sit by and watch innocent blood spilled," said Dave with a quiet intensity that left Viggo wondering how a soft, cultured voice could convey so much emotion. The assassin could see why anyone remotely interested in a male lover would be captivated by the exquisite
blond's passion.

On screen, Karl tightened his embrace around David and kissed the top of the smaller man's head. One would have to be blind to not notice the chesthut-haired warrior was in love. It would seem that Central Intelligence was wrong once again. Lord Urban was not enslaved; the warrior had deflected.

"Enough about these unhappy things. Who's your new friend?" asked Karl, wanting to lighten the mood.

The warrior knew Dave loathed not being able to do more for the people. Things were not always like this. Metaricana used to be the Land of the Brave, a respected leading nation in the Alliance, the sacred home of the Hyrule Temple. But after the murder of
Orlando's mother twenty years ago, the old Emperor retired and handed the rule of the kingdom to his eldest son, Raphael. That was the beginning of everyone's nightmare.

"He won't tell me. Maybe he'll tell you," replied Orli with a pout.

"Sorry, Orli. I'm sure by now, he's convinced I've been thoroughly corrupted and think I am not worthy of knowing his name," smiled the chestnut haired man as he winked at the camera.

"Hey, you're the one who corrupted me! I've never been with anyone before you!" protested Dave with mock indignation as he half-heartedly tried to twist out of the larger man's embrace.

"That's nice to know. Save me the trouble of having to hunt down your previous lovers. Only I am allowed to know your touch," said Karl smugly as he pulled his lover closer such that Dave's tight buttocks were flushed against his arousal.

"Guys, you have an audience here. Save all the sweet talk for the bedroom, okay?" said the dark-haired youth, sensing his companion's discomfort at the open display of affections between the two men.

"Right," smiled Dave before turning to his lover. "Come on, Karl. Give the little one a hand here. I thought you know everyone in the Junia."

"Who says anything about him being from Junia?" asked Orli, curious. His country had so many enemies these days; the Prince would not be surprised if the number of people who wanted him dead exceeded the total number of citizens in Metaricana.

"The advantages of having a broken seal, little one," explained David with a smile.

Like himself, Orli was a Chosen One, a rare individual born with magic, destined to be a Guardian of Peace. But the youth's powers were still sealed away until his other half set it free through the union of body and spirit. As the High Priest found his Karl a year ago, he was powerful enough to sense the assassin's origins without difficulty. If David wanted, he could probe the dark-haired man's mind for information; but he had a feeling that would put a damper on the chances of developing a friendship with Orli's other half. It seemed that he would have to rely on Karl.

"Well, I don't think I've ever seen him, Dave. I'd remember someone that good-looking," replied the chestnut haired warrior, feeling the weight of the expectant stares from the two magic users.

"All right, then who is your country's head assassin?" pressed Orli, knowing his slave was someone important; it was written in the older man's poise and commanding presence.

"You know I can't tell you that!" protested Karl, unhappy that his lover too had joined in on forcing him to talk. Dave had actually left his warm embrace to glare at him!

"It's not like we're going to tell anyone. Please," pleaded Orli with huge puppy dog eyes that no one could resist. On cue, Dave too pouted, looking so absolutely kissable that Karl had a difficult time maintaining the blood supply to his brain as most of the precious fluid decided to rush to his loins instead.

"I think your new friend's name is Viggo, but you didn't hear it from me," sighed the warrior in defeat as he shook his head. He was certain there was no harm in telling Orli; after all, the dark-haired prisoner was destined to be the Prince's other half. But he decided he would still sulk. It had been a while since Dave put on a full show to seduce him. He kind of missed being pampered and spoiled.

"Thanks Karl. Love you!" laughed the Prince as he blew his two friends a kiss.

Davie smiled back as his slim fingers stroke his lover's arm while Karl continued looking glum, having been ‘forced' to reveal ‘classified information' to his ‘enemies'. "Goodnight, Orli," said the High Priest before ending the transmission. It would be an interesting evening; he rather looked forward to coaxing his ‘unwilling slave' into bed.

*****

"Viggo is a really nice name," smiled the young Prince as he looked at his companion who now glared at him icily. Orli decided he preferred the heated lustful gaze instead. Compared to his other half wanting him dead, being ravished was not such a horrible thought, especially if the older man was gentle. Both Karl and Davie seemed to like it enough to be doing it every night….

"If I remove your cuffs, will you promise not to hurt me or try to escape?"

Still silence, but Orli decided he would take his chances. Karl never once harmed Davie, despite the hatred the warrior had for all Metaricanans when he was first captured. He could only pray Viggo would be the same.

Viggo was surprised at how stupid the Prince was. Watching Orlando leaned towards him to touch his manacles, he could not believe there exist an idiot who would free a skilled assassin without first obtaining an oath of honor to guarantee safety. As the youth had no key in hand, perhaps it was all a hoax. But then it happened, the locks of his cuffs sprung free as if controlled by magic. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "How?"

"I am born with magic. My mom died when I was just a babe, so I grew up at the Temple with Davie and the priests. I'm still living there now, actually," explained Orli, extremely happy that his companion decided to talk to him. It wasn't much of a question, but it was a start.

"Please eat something, even if you don't like it. If you tell me what you want to eat, I'll ask them to make it for you tomorrow," added the Prince as he pushed the tray of sweet meats, cheese, breads and fruits towards the older man.

The assassin decided not to break Orlando's neck though it was what he should be doing. It was quite easy to convince himself that such actions would be too risky given that the Prince had magic. Since he couldn't kill his enemy, he might as well talk to the youth. The naïve Prince might give him some useful insider's information in Junia's fight against Metaricana. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because you're my other half," the Prince blurted out, with downcast eyes and a blush. Where was his eloquence when he needed it? He could charm a bird from a tree, but he couldn't think of a better explanation than the blunt truth.

"Your other half?"

"Yes, every Chosen One has an ‘other half'. Only you can break the seal on my magic," replied Orli, fidgeting with a piece of bread, tearing it into small pieces and compressing it into balls. God, he was nervous. Gathering his courage, he stole a glance at his companion who seemed to be deliberating his words. That was not a good thing. The attraction between two halves was supposed to be instantaneously.

"And if I don't co-operate?" asked the assassin in his most professional voice. Truth was he felt anything but calm right now, having learnt that Orlando wanted him to be his lover. But thanks to his training and experience on the field, he was an expert on projecting the illusion of composure. While the youth was sweet and extremely desirable, he was Metaricanan royalty, and that fact alone merited death. Sadly, there could be no future for them together.

"It's not about co-operating, Viggo. It's about love," answered Orli with youthful passion that threatened to scorch the older man's soul despite his resistance.

"You are my captor and master. How can you expect me to love you?" asked the assassin, eyes darkened with what he hoped resembled rage. It was difficult enough to keep his body under control with the tempting youth so close; to put acting on top of it was plain impossible for a prolonged period.

"You're only my slave in name. That doesn't define who we are," pleaded the Prince, holding Viggo captive with his sincere chocolate eyes.

"Ah, but you are wrong, Princeling. Our titles are part of us, whether we like it or not. We'll be enemies for as long as we live," replied Viggo, hardening his heart against the agony that emanated from the dark-haired beauty's exquisite coco orbs.

When a tearful Orlando left the bed and walked to the window to gaze out at the stars, Viggo knew he had never felt like such a horrible bastard in his entire life. True he was a bringer of death, but he only harmed those who deserved such punishment; and he knew the gentle little Prince did not deserve to have his heart torn out so callously. But before the assassin could determine whether he should comfort his new ‘master', another caller came onto the screen.

*****

This time the caller was a middle-aged, dark-haired man with stern angular features, dressed in burgundy and black velvets. Viggo recalled seeing his face on the Central Intelligence's most hated list - on-screen was the Prince Regent of Metaricana, the Tyrant
Raphael. "Hello, little brother."

"Hail, Raphael," replied the younger man as he dried his tears and faced the screen. The siblings had been at odds for the past three years, since Orlando was old enough to participate in politics. To show Raphael he was vulnerable would be suicide.

"Is it true? My human rights' activist brother has claimed a slave?" asked the older Prince in a dramatic voice. That was a huge mistake on his younger sibling's part. Many of Orlando's staunch supporters were shaken by the rumors, believing that the idealistic youth had finally given in to the lure of wealth and power. If the news were indeed true, a celebration would be in order as Orlando's political career was as good as dead.

"Yes, but it's not what you think. He will be to me as Karl is to David," replied Orlando with more conviction than he truly felt. He could only hope Viggo would not speak up to dispute his words.

"God, Orli, not you too! It's bad enough that David has some Junian scum as a lover!" exclaimed Raphael indignantly, knowing that the union would further promote popular support for a permanent truce with the rogue kingdom. This was something the Prince Regent could not permit. He needed to conquer Junia in order to fulfill his dreams of being the master of the universe.

"Karl is NOT scum! He bested every warrior in Metaricana, remember?" replied Orlando emphatically, wanting to remind his brother that humiliation awaited those who tried to interfere with the destiny of a Chosen One and his other half.

"Yes, but this is different. You are a Prince, and your slave is a nameless assassin. If you wish for a male protector as lover, you should consider Bob's offer. He is very sincere," said Raphael, knowing any further discussion on Karl or David would be detrimental to his cause. Besides, he wanted to give his mentor a hand in his suit. It would be beneficial to their plans if his little brother were under Bob's control.

"He's more than twice my age!" protested Orlando, not wanting to point out that Bob was also big, ugly and mean.

"So is your slave, judging by the looks of him," replied Raphael, eyeing the dark-haired prisoner with interest. He could tell why his brother liked the slave; the man had chiseled features and a great body, along with a thoughtful air that balanced his intensity and compounded his appeal. It would be fun to get a taste of the slave once Orli was no longer a threat.

"It doesn't matter. He is the one for me. I will have no other," said the young man resolutely, daring his brother to argue. Raphael might be Prince Regent, but he had no power over Orlando's private life. As things were, their father had ascertained that the older Prince barely had any control over the younger one's actions. A gift from the gods, his father called him, conceived when the King and late Queen had given up all hopes of ever having another child; and it was nice to be daddy's baby boy.

"You're making a mistake, little brother," warned Raphael one last time. If friendly attempts to win Orlando over to their side failed, more drastic measures must be taken. All opposition to his scheme must be removed, even if the said person were his own kin. He learnt that lesson from his mentor Bob twenty years ago.

"Perhaps, but it's mine to make," replied Orlando before ending the transmission. He knew Raphael was giving him an ultimatum. He could only hope he would be able to handle whatever his older brother had in store for him on his return.

*****

Viggo was impressed at the dark-haired beauty's composure when speaking to the Prince Regent. He'd never seen anyone stood up to Tyrant Raphael before. He wished the Central Intelligence had more information on the internal affairs of Metaricana. But none of the spies sent there ever returned; it was believed that most were killed while some deflected. But anyway, this exchange told him that Orlando was more than the innocent, sweet youth he appeared to be.

"Sorry you had to hear that," said Orlando as he gave his prisoner a small smile. When Viggo merely frowned at him, the young Prince explained, "I didn't mean to talk about you like you're just some inanimate object. Ultimately, it's your choice whether to have me or not. But I can't let Raphael know that; please forgive me."

"Slaves are supposed to please their master. If you want me to bed you, bed you I will," replied the assassin nonchalantly, though his blood was starting to boil at the prospect of claiming the delectable youth. There was no harm in taking a little pleasure as long as he remembered where his loyalties lied. He would be the Prince's slave and spy for Junia until he formed a failsafe escape plan.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you are NOT my slave?" asked the Prince, hurt by the mock submissiveness in Viggo's voice.

"My Prince, until you free me, I am your slave," pointed out Viggo reasonably, more of a reminder for himself than for Orlando. Seeing the pain in the dark-haired beauty's eyes was making him feel extremely guilty about his ulterior motives. He could not lose his heart to his enemy.

"You know I can't do that; the moment I grant you freedom, they will execute you as an assassin," replied Orlando with a sigh, wondering how long he could endure his companion's cold treatment without losing hope.

"Then I'll never come to you of my own free will," said the assassin as he gave the youth an icy stare. His answer was one of a warrior, loyal to his kingdom; yet, it felt so completely wrong to say those hurtful words.

"Never say never, Viggo. Perhaps time will change your mind. These are your quarters for the reminder of the trip. Please, make yourself at home. If you want anything, use the intercom and tell Alfred," sighed Orlando as he gracefully strolled to the door.

The Prince knew there was no point in pushing this fruitless conversation any further tonight. Not to mention he could no longer stand watching Viggo regard him with cold, mistrustful eyes. Though he wanted some rest, he would go to the library and prepare for his appearance in the Commonwealth Senate upon arrival. He had a thing or two to say about the excessive brutality Bob's men used against the prisoners of war who surrendered peacefully in the battle for Haroun.

*****

Viggo would never admit it, but he missed Orlando's warm presence. It had been four days since the Prince became his master; and after the first evening they spent together, the dark-haired beauty had completely avoided him. Upon their arrival on Metaricana, the assassin was taken to his master's rooms in the Hyrule Temple while Orlando himself went to the Commonwealth Senate.

In the past few days, the assassin had done some research on the political situation Metaricana using the ship's information system. He was shocked to find out that Orlando was the champion of the oppressed – the only one in the Senate who dared defy Raphael and Butcher Bob; in fact, on more than one occasion, the youth Prince and his mentor, the High Priest of Hyrule, had acted covertly to prevent the outbreak of war.

Given this latest information, Viggo wished he had not been so harsh the first night he was brought to the Prince. Orlando was compassionate, courageous and beautiful, just about as perfect a lover as any person could ask for. His love fell into the category of precious gifts from the fates that should not be squander lightly. If only there was a way to accept that treasure without betraying his honor…

It really was becoming an annoying trend, having his musing cut short. "Hi. You must be Viggo."

The speaker was the handsome blond Orlando addressed as Davie. This time the man was dressed in the ceremonial robes of Hyrule Temple, emerald green velvet over beige silk. Then, it dawned on the assassin that this stranger was none other than the elusive High Priest Wenham. Conscious of the audience, Viggo bowed his head in respect and answered, "Yes, your Excellency."

"Call me Dave," smiled the handsome blond man before giving Viggo a quick glance-over. Seeming unconcerned by the censorious gazes from the guards, he added, "Why are you still in slave garb?"

"I did not see fit to ask for a change of clothes. After all, I am a slave," replied the assassin quietly with a bowed head.

The blond man did not answer, merely motioning Viggo to follow. Once inside the Temple, Dave commented with a slight frown, "Strange, I thought giving you more appropriate clothing would be the first thing Orli did. That's the first thing I did when I found Karl tied face down to my bed."

Things must have gone quite badly if Orli forgot something that important. The Priest hoped whatever cruel thing Viggo said had not hurt the little one too badly. Dave could not imagine anyone behaving worse than Karl when the warrior was first captured; but the young Prince was a lot sweeter and more sensitive than he was.

Suddenly, the shadow moved; quicker than the blink of an eye, a man garbed in a grey cloak leapt from his hiding place behind a pillar and seized the High Priest. "Hey! Didn't anyone teach you it's not nice to talk about people behind their backs?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking out loud, Karl," smiled Dave sheepishly, though the merriment in his cobalt eyes told the warrior he was not a bit repentant.

"You don't sound sorry. I think I'll punish you later," whispered the warrior into the smaller man's ears before letting him go to greet the newcomer. "Hi, I'm Karl," grinned the chestnut-haired man, offering his hand to Viggo.

"It's an honor to meet you, Lord Urban," replied the assassin with a bow. Viggo was born a commoner and Karl a nobleman; even if the warrior was now the High Priest's consort, the gesture was still necessary.

"Call me Karl. There is no need for formalities; as you can see, I'm not leading armies or fleets anymore," smiled the warrior. He wished he were still in a position to help his people, but he would not give up his beloved Dave for the world; he learnt that some time ago.

"So, what do you think of our Orli?" continued the chestnut-haired warrior as he wound his arm around the High Priest's waist and joined the two in their journey to the Prince's rooms.

"Please tell me you did what any good spy would do and hack into the ship's mainframe. That'll save us so much trouble," added Dave, casting a glance at the assassin.

"What do you mean?" inquired Viggo politely, perplexed by the High Priest's cryptic words. The blond man seemed to have discovered his treachery; but from his tone, Dave was not in the least condemning.

"If you read the confidential reports on the Alliance's internal politics, we won't need to convince you that Orli is not as bad as you think he is. It'll save us, your self-appointed matchmakers, a lot of work," replied the blond man with a shrug.

When the assassin frowned at the couple, Karl elaborated, "You see, we won't be together without Orli's help. Now is the time to return the favor."

"I know the Prince is a noble person. But it does not change the fact that we fight on different sides in this ongoing war. I will not betray my country," replied Viggo quietly, wondering why he was telling the couple such things. It would be more beneficial for them to think he was a submissive slave; yet, he could not bring himself to lie about his loyalties or his ‘non-existent' feelings for Orlando.

"No one expects you to be anyone other than who you are," smiled the High Priest, realizing that the assassin's attitude towards the Prince was softening. It would not be long before Viggo fell in love, if those two spent enough time together. He knew Orli was irresistible; even Karl in his Metaricanans-hating days was charmed by the sweet, idealistic youth.

"I don't think an assassin from Junia will fit in here," pointed out the dark-haired man dourly, as he studied his surroundings. The inner sanctuary was elegantly decorated, with majestic arches, dome ceilings and ample open spaces. As an assassin, Viggo was accustomed to live in the shadows. The Temple was simply too bright and solemn for him to ever feel at home in.

"An assassin's strongest suit is to adapt and survive. I am sure you'll be doing better than me in no time. I mean it only took you five days to realize Orli is a jewel. It took me close a month to actually stop hating Dave," replied Karl as he placed his hand on a fingerprint recognition device. The wall shimmered and a portal opened to reveal the private quarters shared by David and Orlando.

"Not everyone is as pigheaded as you, Karl," said the High Priest as he quickly dashed through the portal to avoid being tackled by his lover.

"Okay, I am definitely going to punish you tonight," vowed Karl with a sigh before turning to their new friend. "Orli won't be home until seven; and Dave needs to read over some important documents before dinner. Let me help you settle in."

*****

Orlando's speech at the Senate was a huge success. Now, every ship on the Commonwealth's fleet was required to have an independent observer to ensure that the soldiers abided by the Alliance's humanitarian laws. It was not much of a step towards peace in the galaxy, but at least, Bob's brutes could no longer terrorize their captives to satisfy their sick ego.

After a brief meeting with his fellow advocates of peace to explain his decision to claim Viggo, the young Prince left the Senate building and headed back to the Temple. He was not particularly looking forward to reaching his destination. He knew running away was not the answer, but the young Prince did not think he could stand being with ‘mean Viggo' who made a sport of carving his heart into little pieces. Perhaps, he'd go to the Royal Palace and say thank you to his father in person for giving him a new pleasure slave.

In a moment of indecision, the Prince programmed the transport to slow. Then it happened - the monorail in front of his vehicle exploded in a blinding flash of light and a deafening boom. The force of the blast propelled the pod upwards, flipping it over several times before it landed on top of another car. If Orlando had not decelerated, the explosion would have obliterated his vehicle. By a stroke of good luck, despite the extensive damages to the transport's outer frame, none inside were severely wounded.

After scanning the area for potential threats, the Prince's personal guards helped him out of the wreckage. The men proceeded to form a protective circle around the young man– they knew the blast was not an accident; it was an attempted assassination. Quickly, they reported to Security Headquarters and requested a safe transport to bring the Prince back to Hyrule Temple immediately. All the commotion, however, were lost on Orlando, who could only think of one thing – Raphael wanted to kill him; and knowing his brother, the Prince Regent would not stop until he was dead.

*****

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