Versilla; a sprawling kingdom on the far west coast of Heñter, an enormously wealthy city composed of immense, looming towers built of marble and jade. It is said that from the tops of its spires, one can see all the way to The Ether’s Gate, and at the ocean’s shore the echoes of wind passing through the city creates a whistling sound, like sirens...

It is also where Cyndras was born.

Solis had been very excited when Cyndras told him this, and even more so when the boy invited him there to see his home. Solis had only ever seen human farms and small towns before, so the idea of an enormous kingdom rivaling that of the gods’ was very interesting to him. Not to mention, it would mean more time spent with his new friend.

That had been over a week ago.

Cyndras had led him inside the palace gates through the city in the dead of night that very first evening they met. Solis had been grateful that the boy was showing him the sights of the city, all lit up with the moon high overhead. It was indeed wondrous. Then, a torchlight shone down the empty street and Cyndras had yanked the bewildered god straight into an alley.

“MhMmhghh?” Solis was trying to speak but the boy had pressed his hand over his mouth to silence him.

Cyndras waited until whoever it was had gone, the light fading away, before he sighed and removed his hand, eyeing Solis disinterestedly, like he fully expected him not to address why they’d just done that.

“Why did we just do that?” The very foolish god said.

Dark eyes were even darker at night, Solis realized, staring at the young boy’s face in the moonlight. He really found Cyndras to be a new expression of Heaven, more godly than gods, each and every time he looked at him.

The boy frowned slightly, which only made his stormy gaze more alluring.

“The Prince is missing,” Cyndras said. “It will be unfortunate if the guards discover him before he is done with his errands.”

Solis nodded. He didn’t know what that had to do with them, or why it meant they had to run, but it became a sort of game between him and Cyndras, who had told him to also call him by his nickname; Cyn. They weaved in and out of alleys, dodging lamplight when they saw it, sticking to the shadows and pausing to check that they were alone. The young god was truly having such a nice evening following the boy, that by the time they’d traversed the entirety of the lower kingdom and come right up to the palace’s front gate, he had completely forgotten what his new companion had said about princes and guards. He was about to remember…

“My Lord! Where have you been?!”

“My Prince! Are you aware of the hour?”

At the gate, there was a small commotion. Solis stood there and watched in awe as the horde of men and women, all wearing either aprons or armor, wrenched open the door and began to hurry Cyndras inside. The Prince, it turned out, looked back at him and smiled. Solis felt the world around him suddenly turn vibrant, that impish grin cutting right to his core.

“This man is my guest,” Cyn said to no one in particular. “Find him a room, put it next to mine. And give him better clothes.”

Solis glanced down at what he was wearing but before he could ask what Cyndras meant, he was being shooed inside the palace of Versilla.

What followed directly after was a whirlwind, one the god does not remember very well. He was taken by two older women to a room with an indoor hot spring. After bathing rather awkwardly, they brought him up several grand flights of stairs to an ornately furnished bedroom, complete with a balcony that faced the sea. Solis stood there and looked at the view for several hours before he eventually went to sleep. He wondered if Cyndras was in a room like this, and he thought he should definitely take Versilla’s designs into consideration when he eventually built his own palace in The Heavenly Realm.

As it turned out, Cyndras really was the Prince! Not that Solis doubted it for a second, he was just surprised. Among the mortals, royalty was often treated like or above gods, so surely Solis’ first meeting with the young man was less than appropriate. He grappled with that thought for only a single morning, before Cyndras came to his room with a barrage of lady’s maids and several trays of food. They ate on the balcony and Cyndras was surprisingly quick in answering all of the god’s burning questions.

“Your father and mother are the King and Queen of Versilla?”

“Apparently so. Pass the salt.”

“Do you have brothers? Sisters?”

“Three sisters, all of them younger.”

“Oh… how old are you?”

Cyn smiled over the rim of his cup.

“Why don’t you guess?”

Solis cringed, then blurted out an age he thought seemed a few years younger than what he actually assumed Cyndras was. Just in case…

The Prince’s uproarious laughter must have meant he said the right thing.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Solis spent an entire week like that, in Cyndras’ company. Every day the Prince would come to him just after sunrise, they’d eat breakfast, and then take a stroll around the palace gardens, a place that Cyndras seemed to love wholeheartedly.

The young god felt drunk with happiness, completely greedy, and eager to feel all of Cyndras’ attention on him at all times. Even when they walked together in silence, Solis had the distinct sensation that everywhere Cyn went, good things followed.

Some afternoons were spent in the palace, but more often the Prince took him outside. Cyn loved the outdoors, growing lazy and satisfied in the sun. A week after they had met, Solis was lounging around, propped up on some pillows in a pavilion in the gardens, watching with fond but dreamy eyes as the Prince yawned again, stretched out in a patch of sunlight like a warm and happy cat.

It was an absurdly nice day in Versilla, but at noon it was verging on too warm. Solis slipped into a half-awake lucid dream while Cyn continued napping, the Prince arranging his pillow until it suited him again and then laying on his stomach, baring his naked back to the sky.

Hours drifted by like that, birds and insects turning the garden into a living being of movement and sound. When Solis eventually woke, it was too warm, honeyed eyes on him, looking without being seen.

Solis took a deep breath, and Cyndras’ eyes shifted up.

The young god often watched various emotions cross the Prince’s face, but almost never in his eyes. They always seemed slightly glazed, or preoccupied, as if the boy was watching something play out inside his mind at all times. That was why, when the god saw the flare of panic on the boy’s face, he didn’t expect it to reach his eyes. Except, strangely, this time it did…

Cyndras shifted distractedly, then collected himself with a single sigh and moved to sit up. Solis watched him go through a series of stretches; arms, neck, and back, each one punctuated with an absurdly noisy moan.

The Prince was quite fond of making the god blush.

With a satisfied smile, Cyn leaned back on his hands and stared at him with a demure tilt of his head.

“I had a nice dream,” he said.

Solis, ever eager to hear what went on inside his mind, replied with an excited blink; “What was it about?”

Cyndras closed his eyes, leaning his head back with a long sigh and fully allowing the god an opportunity to stare at the shape of his collarbones and throat.

Solis swallowed. His throat was dry…

“Mmh, how unfortunate.” The Prince lamented, his voice a lazy drawl. “I’ve forgotten almost the entire thing. There is one scene I do recall, however. Do you want to know what it is?”

Solis nodded, for some reason he was unable to speak, although the Prince did tend to have that effect on people…

“A throne, somewhere far away. I am sitting in it, and there is one of my subjects at my feet. He is holding my ankle tenderly, and then bends and kisses my foot. I don’t remember what happened after that, isn’t it disappointing?”

Solis hums, imagining. A dream that seemed very vivid, almost prophetic. Solis knew that as the only son and eldest child, Cyndras was very likely to be the King of Versilla one day. It was a thought he’d never had before that moment, but one that he decided the Prince must have on occasion, maybe even in his dreams.

“Perhaps, someday you will be the King and your dream will come true.”

Solis smiled at his friend, hoping to see the boy’s playful lovely grin reflected back at him. Except, Cyndras didn’t smile. He didn’t do anything for a long time and for many minutes they both sat there, Cyn staring silently at the ground and Solis wondering what he could be thinking.

They sit for so long that eventually, a heavy cloud passes overhead the garden. It takes away most of the sunlight, the warmth, and the birds… then, as the rain begins to fall, the clouds darken, mirroring the expression on Cyndras’ face.

“I will never be King.”

Solis listens to the sound of his voice amid the splattering of thick raindrops on the pavilion’s roof. He shivers. Cyndras finally looks up.

“You may as well know, since we see each other so often.” The Prince scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I am never going to lead this city, I can’t. My parents, my father… to them, there is only ever perfection and failure, and I was never perfect. My sisters, if they were older, if they were born as my brothers, then perhaps there would be a future for this kingdom. As it stands today, I am a placeholder for someone else. My father will not hesitate to use me as a token of peace; better than a war prize, he always says. Ah, I can’t stand it! You’ll never know how lucky you are, Solis, to just be. I’ve had to be something all my life, but what I am is never enough!”

Solis had never heard Cyndras talk that much before. He wished he could breathe all his words in and hold them in his lungs. He wanted to memorize each one.

The Prince was staring at the rain now, a distant but decidedly frustrated expression on his face. Solis crawled over to him and sat by his side. He often wished to be closer to Cyn, to know the heat radiating off his skin, the softness of his hair, the way his hands might feel if he held them. Solis had never wanted to know those things more than right now.

Because he wasn’t sure how to ask, the clueless god settled for gently patting the Prince’s back. He watched parents do this for young children when they were inconsolable, and something about the way Cyn’s shoulders hunched and he held his breath told the god he was probably pretty close.

“It’s okay,” Solis repeated what he’d heard, but then he added-

“You can cry.”

Cyn jerked back as if he’d been hit. When his eyes landed on Solis again, that fear was back within them and Solis was devastated that he’d caused him to be afraid.

The Prince breathed harshly for a moment, sputtering-

“Y-You…”

Then Solis watched his lips purse, the Prince hissing;

“No matter what, they must never see me cry!”

Cyndras turned away from him after that but didn’t leave, nor tell him to. Solis watched him catch his breath, wondering if holding back his tears for so long was actually damaging the Prince’s heart in ways he couldn’t see.

It’s okay, Solis thought. I have time to make him realize that I am not one of them. That he is perfect to me. One day, it will be safe for him to cry.

And I will love this little human all the more for it.