Part 11

Xan. Xan Xan Xan… the name was like a melody playing over and over in Phaulkin’s mind. It was so simple, yet… There was something so lovely about it.

Phaulkin lay stretched out on a red sofa, a book in his hands. Xan lay between his legs, head resting against his stomach, completely asleep. Phaulkin absolutely loved how comfortable the boy felt around him. He tried to read his book, but he kept staring at his slave, playing with his lovely red locks.

Xan groaned in his sleep and curled his arm around Phaulkin’s waist.

There was a knock on the door and it opened.

“Phaul-”

“Ssshhh!” Phaulkin hissed and glared at his brother.

Phox sauntered in with a broad smirk, “Your lovely little slave certainly sleeps quite a bit during the day and very little at night.”

“It is currently evening at this time on Fayela. This is when he is used to sleeping. He has not yet acclimated to when our days and nights are.”

“Ah, how swiftly you defend him,” Phox chuckled and sat on a wingback chair across from the sofa, “There is to be a meeting of several Dukes from our planets tomorrow evening. Father wishes for you and I to attend so that I might meet my future subjects and you might learn some things about your possible future as a Duke.”

Phaulkin snorted, “I have no desire to be a Duke.”

“You have no desires whatsoever other than to read your books and play with your slave’s fiery hair.”

Phaulkin gave him a closed-mouthed grin, “You must admit it is such beautiful hair.”

Phox rolled his eyes, “As if I would choose you a gift that is not gorgeous. Let the pathetic nobles have the ugly ones, the best is for you.”

“Phox…” Phaulkin sighed, “You seem to have such affection for me at some times and such distaste at others. Will you never simply tell me what in the heavens it is that goes through your mind?”

“It’s quite simple, brother dear,” Phox chuckled, “I have an abundant amount of affection for you, but I refuse to express it in such mundane manners as the rest of the populace. I must be as radical and bizarre about it as I possibly can, and therefore choose to torment you like a small boy with a crush, but not in an incestuous way.”

Phaulkin laughed quietly, “Brother…. Thank you. He brings… joy to my life. Joy like nothing I have felt in the longest time.”

Phox had a gentle look on his face, “Of course you realize, when he wakes, this conversation never occurred and I simply must return to tormenting you once again.”

“You just like to rile him up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t see the amusement in such an act. He’s positively delightful to antagonize. Provoking him is one of my favorite hobbies.”

Xan mumbled something and moved to lay his head on its other side.

Sighing, Phaulkin happily muttered, “He finally told me his name today.”

Phox lifted an eyebrow, “And…?”

“And I am not telling you because he entrusted it to me, not you. His name is mine to know and mine alone.”

Phox pouted jokingly, “You spoilsport.”

“Now leave us,” Phaulkin said with a bemused smile, “You are making too much noise and are soon to wake him.”

Nodding, Phox left, loudly slamming the door behind him.

Xan jumped and looked around wildly. Phaulkin just smiled at him and pulled him down to lay his head on his chest, “Calm, little one, it was only a servant leaving the room too loudly.”

Nodding, Xan rested and inhaled deeply the rich scent of Phaulkin’s tunic, “I was lovely dream.”

“Tell me of it.”

Xan sighed and closed his eyes, “I was back at home. My sisters woke me and we went fishing. We caught tons of fish and went home. Mother prepared them with lemon and specials seasonings I’d grown in my garden. We took it to the village spring festival. You were there and we danced by the fire while my sisters played with the band. And we danced and danced all through the night, from sunset to sunrise.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Phaulkin said wistfully, “I would love for such an event to occur someday. Dancing with you on your planet…”

“If only…” Xan hesitated, but continued, “If only your father would end this war… We could go to my planet and live peacefully… together.”

“Yes, but you see my father is a prideful, self-centered moron with no thought to the well-being of anyone other than himself or the moral majority of his people. As long as most of them are wealthy and unaffected, he is considered a good king.”

“He is a horrible man. I wish his death.”

“I do as well.”