A fist clenched around his heart, driving all the air from Narsus' lungs. His evening reverie had been broken by the sound of horses. A sound that drove him to the closest window to investigate, since all he'd been expecting to hear were Elam's footsteps on the stair as his charge returned from his patrol.

Oh, Ashe, it can't be him. Narsus slowly turned from the window and sagged back against the wall next to it, closing his eyes. One glance was all he needed to confirm the identity of at least one of his visitors, a glance was all that had ever been needed to identify a face as familiar to him as his own. There was no mistaking the black armor or the proud, erect stance, no mistaking the night dark hair or the sharp blue eyes. There was no way he could ever fail to know the powerful beauty of the man he'd once longed for, still longed for. Darun. His image still blazed behind Narsus' closed eyelids, haunting him, taunting him. Even after all these years... The pain of that man's rejection still hurt, was as fresh as if it had happened only hours before. Time had never dulled it.

Narsus suppressed a moan. Why was he here?

Slowly, breathing deeply, Narsus regained control. He had a very good idea why Darun was here, and with who he increasingly suspected was his Prince, given the golden helmet the youth wore. The Palsian army had just been massacred, and apparently, Darun had escaped with Prince Arislan.

Their country had been thrown into a state of upheaval and confusion, and was in very grave danger. Yet, Narsus found it difficult to care. Andragoras had sealed his own fate long ago, and was now finally suffering the consequences of his foolishness. Narsus had left all that behind more than three years ago when he'd chosen to leave. Palse was no longer his problem.

Narsus straightened, then pushed away from the wall and made his way towards the table where he and Elam took their meals. He could deal with seeing Darun again. He would put his visitors up for the night, then see them on their way the next day. Darun would exit his life again as quickly as he'd re-entered it, and he would survive as he always did.

Narsus hesitated at the table before moving to the door. He contemplated the wine glass he carried for a moment, considered putting it down, but then refilled it instead. The wine had been his refuge for so long, had helped to make his pain bearable, and Ashe help him, he'd need such a crutch if he was going to get through this night. Another deep breath, then wine glass in hand, Narsus continued on to the door.

Settling a calm, uncaring mask in place, the mask he'd worn for the benefit of the Palsian court for many years, Narsus waited for the sound of Elam's voice, then opened the door when he heard footsteps coming to a halt just outside. "Welcome Darun, it's been a long time." Narsus was pleased that no tremor could be heard in his voice.

There he stood, so close, yet too distant to touch. Darun drank in the sight. Calf high dark boots. Soft, comfortable cream colored trousers hugging long, slender legs. Tunic of the same color though edged with red on the well muscled torso and belted at the slender waist with long white cloths. Long hair tied in a tail and hanging over his left shoulder. Angular face, high cheekbones, emerald eyes and elegant brows. He's beautiful. Darun didn't know if a man could be considered beautiful, but suddenly didn't care. By Ashe, Narsus was beautiful, as beautiful as he'd been three years ago.

Dry mouthed, Darun murmured, "You haven't changed." Then abruptly came back to himself as he remembered that Arislan was patiently awaiting an introduction. Now was not the time to lose himself in the attraction and pleasure he was suddenly feeling as he gazed on his one-time friend. He gathered his scattered wits, stepped aside and waved Arislan forward. "Narsus, please let me introduce..." He stopped when Arislan stepped forward and took up his own introduction.

"Prince Arislan of Palse, son of Andragoras." Arislan's youthful voice was confident and proud, but also warm and friendly. He smiled as he continued, "I'm so pleased to meet you Lord Narsus, I've heard so much about you from Darun."

Oh, sure. "I'm willing to bet that it wasn't all good." Narsus controlled a grimace and instead let a slight return smile form on his lips. "Still, that's all in the past, and I try to live in the present. Please, do come in." He stepped away from the door, motioning them inside. That wasn't quite fair. Narsus knew Darun well, and knew that the other man was much too honorable to slander him to their Prince no matter the terms under which they'd parted company.

Darun bit back the pain and guilt he felt as he watched Narsus gracefully turn and move further into his house. He'd been right. This was going to be hard, and the other man was not going to make it any easier. Not that he deserved to have things made easier for him. Narsus had been so cold and distant from the day after that kiss up 'til the day he'd left. And he was every bit as cold and distant now as he was then. With a sigh, Darun trailed his Prince into his former friend's home.

Well, so far so good. Narsus had asked Elam to re-heat the remains of the meal they'd shared earlier while his Prince and Darun changed and cleaned up. He joined his unwanted guests while they ate, making small talk and playing the perfect host. It was nice to know he hadn't lost his touch. His mask was complete. It was as if someone else inhabited his body while he stood somewhere outside, watching and bleeding while that other person smiled in all the right places and said all the right things. It frightened him, how easy it was to don the mask again after all these years.

Narsus very carefully did not stare at the man he'd once called his best friend, the man he'd lost in more ways than one that day his control and resolve had deserted him. He didn't openly stare, yet every time his eyes swept the room, he managed to let them rest on Darun for just a moment. He really couldn't help himself. These images of sable hair, blue eyes, and lean muscled body would be hoarded away in order to fuel his dreams for many years to come.

Darun was as quiet as he ever was, Narsus noticed, allowing Prince Arislan to carry their end of the conversation. He actually seemed more subdued than Narsus remembered. Well, at least if Darun continued to study his plate so intently, he'd not have to worry about making eye contact as he gathered his memories. Perhaps Darun was as uncomfortable as he? Narsus supposed that could be the reason for the other man's silence, though if that was the case, Narsus was sure that Darun's discomfort stemmed from a different source than his own. What comfort they had been able to take in each other's presence had died three years ago.

The ache that had settled in his chest since his first sight of Darun intensified so suddenly Narsus had to stifle a gasp. Damn you, Darun! You heard all the rumors about me, yet you chose to ignore them and become my friend anyway. My position and the fact that I never had eyes for anyone else after I met you protected me, so for many years, those rumors had no basis in fact. But when I did finally prove the rumors true, you rejected all that I was, and all that I offered with that kiss. I wish you had just listened to all that they said about me. If you had, it's likely we'd never have become friends. I never would have loved you, and my soul would still be intact.

The ache strained the limits of Narsus' control enough that he suddenly found himself speaking to the Prince without thinking, something he tried to avoid. Expressing his opinions openly, especially in front of Arislan, could very well get him into trouble. No matter how unlike Andragoras the youth seemed, Arislan was still the King's son and had grown up in the King's shadow.

But then, what was the sense of being careful any longer?

Something in Narsus died a little all over again as he realized that he had nothing left that could be taken from him... except Elam, of course. There was always Elam, the boy he loved as a son and couldn't risk. Narsus swerved away from the dangerous ground he was treading with a smile and wave of his glass. "Now, that's talking of the past again. Forgive me, I don't always make sense when I'm drinking." He swallowed a grimace, wondering if that sentence had come out sounding as bitter and cynical as he thought it had. Narsus knew he had to escape soon, before he shattered beyond repair. He was too far out of practice to play the roles this unexpected visit had forced him back into after all.

Talking about the past... There it was again, the bleak, bitter, sadness in his voice. Sadness he'd put there. Darun cringed inwardly. Narsus had been unfailingly polite since they'd arrived, yet he seemed so far away. Humor and friendliness animated his voice at times, but never reached his eyes. The emerald fire he remembered so well was banked and subdued. The only time Narsus seemed to spark to life was when Arislan was able to draw him out enough so that he was speaking openly of the reasons for the Palsian army's recent defeat. Then, he was far closer to the Narsus that Darun remembered. The eyes lit up and his voice contained the passion of his convictions. It was unfortunate that it didn't last. Too soon, the bitterness was back, and it almost seemed as if Narsus was mocking Arislan.

Darun frowned worriedly. He didn't know if the bitterness, the anger, or the wine made Narsus speak as he did, but Arislan didn't deserve it. It had to be the wine, he'd never seen his former friend drink so heavily or so steadily. Words left his mouth before he even knew it. "Narsus, that's enough. This isn't you, it's the wine..."

"What would you know about it, Darun? I may be an incurable drunk, but I, for one, don't give a damn!" Oh hell, his control was crumbling. Taking a deep breath, Narsus picked up his empty wine bottle and turned away from two pairs of startled blue eyes. "Elam, bring me some more," he called. The problem was, he wasn't anything that even approached drunk, though he sincerely wished it were otherwise. Drunk, this would all be so much easier, it might even be laughable.

"Narsus, I have a favor to ask of you. I desperately need your help."

The earnest voice of his young Prince drew Narsus' attention again. Here it comes. He'd been expecting this since the two had arrived on his doorstep.

"Your wisdom, Narsus, your gift for strategy. He's heard of all you've accomplished, and he's come to ask for your guidance," Darun softly added. He was unprepared to see Narsus turn away.

"My wisdom." Narsus turned back to stare directly into Darun's deep blue eyes. "My wisdom deserted me a long time ago." He couldn't hold that clear gaze, couldn't continue to face all he'd lost through his moment of foolishness. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I have nothing left to offer."

"Narsus!" The man's words contained a hopeless sorrow so sharp Darun could taste it, and they hit him with all the force of a kick to his midsection. Narsus' emerald eyes before they were shuttered were neither distant and expressionless as they'd been for most of this night, nor were they vibrant and alive as they'd been in the past. They were as dulled and broken as battle-scarred chain mail. Those words had been directed to him. Goddess, he'd always suspected, but had never known for sure how much he'd hurt his friend. While he was still at court, Narsus had always been in control, and then he'd left. This was the first glimpse of how deep the damage ran, and the task of repairing it suddenly seemed insurmountable.

Ah hell, he really, really hadn't meant to reveal even that much of his pain. Furiously backpedaling, trying to desperately replace the mask that was slipping away from him, Narsus turned from his guests, ignoring Prince Arislan's puzzlement, as well as Darun's surprise, and called again, "Elam, where's the wine?" Maybe, just maybe, with enough, this would all go away. It couldn't be soon enough for him. Deep within though, he knew Darun wouldn't let his words pass without comment.

"Narsus, I-," Darun backed off, trying to desperately control the urge to just throw himself at the other man's feet and beg for forgiveness. A deep breath later, Darun tried again, addressing the meaning of Narsus' words that his Prince would understand. The rest would have to come later when he could speak with Narsus privately. "Narsus, that isn't true. You have much to offer our Prince. It's just that you're wasting yourself out here in the middle of nowhere, wasting your time playing with your paintings and drinking yourself to death!" Darun couldn't seem to prevent his voice from rising, couldn't prevent his words from sounding so much sharper than he'd intended. He watched Narsus' back stiffen, watched the other man gracefully surge to his feet. He cursed his inability to express himself properly, cursed the fact that his concern had emerged as belligerence. All he'd managed to do was anger Narsus.

Damn him! He's almost completely silent all night, no words of greeting really, no inquiring after our health, and when he finally opens his mouth, he attacks. Narsus knew that was Darun's nature, he was a soldier at heart and always met problems head on, but, damn him, Darun had forfeited any right he'd ever had to influence his life or comment about his choices years ago. It was the breaking point, and Narsus knew the time had come for him to leave. He doubted his ability to remain in the same room as Darun. "What do you know about what I do here, Darun? And what do you care? If I drink, then that is my choice, and as for art? You know *nothing* of the subject, you ignorant pig." He whirled, carefully controlling himself and stalked towards the door. The earnest voice of his Prince brought him up short before he'd taken more than a few steps.

"Narsus, I beg you, please help me. Darun is right, you have much to offer our cause. We need you desperately." Narsus felt the rage in him die, felt the old familiar numbness settle in his chest in its place. He was impressed by this youth that was his Prince, was impressed with his maturity and intelligence. Arislan had such potential, could perhaps be the one who could rule their country from a position of wisdom instead of brute strength. He was already so much more than his Father ever was, or ever would be. A part of him ached to guide this youngster and be on hand when his dreams of a just, peaceful kingdom were realized. Yet, another, larger part cringed from the price he'd have to pay to stand at his Prince's side. He didn't know if he was strong enough to pay that price.

Darun watched Narsus pause as Arislan spoke, still cursing himself inwardly, still wincing at the sharp words that Narsus had flung back at him. Please, Arislan, salvage this situation since I am incapable. He nearly sagged as Narsus partially turned back towards them, but though he was relieved that the anger was gone from Narsus' voice when he spoke, he was dismayed by the note of... defeat that had replaced it.

"I hear you, my Prince, and your plea has touched me. I promise you, I will consider your request, but I pray you'll forgive me if I do not give you an answer this night. My head is heavy, and my bed is calling. I bid you good night." Narsus was already out the door as he spoke his last words. He trusted Elam to show his guests to the quarters that had been prepared for them. He couldn't do it, couldn't trust himself not to completely fall apart if he had to gaze on Darun for a second longer. Goddess, he was so tired, and so unprepared for the confrontation this unexpected visit had turned into. He would consider his Prince's words, he owed Arislan that much, but tomorrow would be soon enough for that. His head was heavy, he was tired, and the ache in his heart needed to ease before he could rationally consider anything.