Late Summer Love

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The sky was a robin's egg blue; clouds drifted lazily by. The king and his brothers strolled across the palace green, accompanied by a select few members of their retinues. The world seemed to radiate summertime cheer.

"Romeo," said Feliciano, "have you ever been in love?"

The prince laughed. "Of course," he said, "all the time."

King Feliciano smiled. "Anyone really special?"

"Well," he said, averting his eyes and grinning widely, "I suppose that little Gaulish princess was a touch prettier than the rest. And how strong-willed, too. Flat-out refused the first time I asked her on a date; the second time she challenged me to a game of poker and said I could take her out rowing on the lagoon if I won. Of course she destroyed me at cards. We never play much here, anyway."

"What about you, Lovi? Do you like anyone?"

"No," deadpanned the older prince, "can we go back inside? I'm getting tired." His scowling face was rather pale.

"What about the mail carrier?" Romeo teased, "You seemed pretty damn happy when he gave you a kiss."

Lovino's cheeks regained some more of their color. "No," he snapped, "stop making me uncomfortable. Royalty such as I would never fall in love with a peasant."

"Your flawed logic won't work here, Lovi," chattered Romeo, "we can see right through you." Lovino crossed his arms. "And what about you, Feli? Why'd you ask, anyway? Who have you got your eye on?"

"Nobody," he said offhandedly, "not at the moment."

"Uh-huh," drawled Romeo, "a likely story. Still with that pretty girl from the midsummer festival?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. You were quite drunk, anyway. What about-"

"I'm getting tired," whined Lovino again, "can we go back inside?"

Feliciano smiled. "Sure, it's almost siesta time anyway."

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