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This is my entry to 2013 Valentine's Day Contest. Please read and vote! I debated whether or not to categorize this in Sci-Fi, but I think the romantic element is stronger than the Sci-F/Fantasy. This is a stand-alone story, but in writing it, I think some other characters may pop up later with stories of their own.
Comments are appreciated
And please vote! Vote! VOTE!
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The Prince of Valentinium
Exodus.
In an effort to save what remained of their drastically reduced population, the people of Valentinium decided, in the year 5571 B.C.E., to undertake the perilous task of evacuation. Though their home planet remained lush and nutrient-rich, the once immortal race had begun dying off in numbers never before seen. At first petty conflicts led to full-blown wars that ravaged entire countries and continents, turning their utopian planet some 25 light-years from Earth into a place notorious for its bloodshed.
Weakened by the near-constant fighting, the longevity that had for eons been a gift enjoyed by all the denizens of Valentinium was suddenly relegated only its rulers and those wealthy enough to stay off of the battlefields. Their women were the first to die, and of the small number who managed to survive even fewer could bear children and any born to them were entirely male. The Valentinian race was in dire straits indeed.
The planet's namesake, Valentinus, a son of Venus, had instilled in his people the same reverence for love that his mother had passed into him.
Love Above All Things
. That had been his creed and through the generations it had stuck. But in these times of war, the Valentinians forgot their veneration of the amorous. Instead, they gave more regard to the tangible things in life -- money, land, and the like -- and thus fell prey to their own greed.
Only a few among them believed that the old ways didn't have to be lost to the oblivion of ignorance and war. They understood that Love alone could save them. And so they fled their war-torn planet, seeking other hospitable planets and moons that might suit them.
Among the refugees were 4 children whose parents had been killed in the last attack on the high city of Amarael. At 12 years of age, Rhys Erastus was the oldest and took it upon himself to look after his younger siblings. The 5 year-old twins, Philon and Pothos, he knew would grow to be strong and capable males. It was his infant sister, Kahlia, for whom he worried most.
As the last female of their kind she might be the only hope for the survival of their race. With her eyes of amethyst and gold-kissed skin he knew she would grow to be a beautiful woman...Rhys just had to make sure she
did
get to grow up. He also knew that a fight for her hand could either result in another war or place her in the possession of a male who was not destined to be her mate. Rhys could never allow such a fate befall her. Her very existence had to be kept secret. He swore that he would protect her life with his own...until she found a mate to take over that precious role.
{Earth -- 2169 A.D.}
"I could show you things you've never seen. Take you places you've never been. Just give me one chance, baby. I promise you won't regret it."
Kahlia rolled her eyes. Was this guy serious? She'd scented him as soon as he walked into The Stratosphere, a swanky restaurant that occupied the top floor and roof of the tallest building in Atlanta. Had he
bathed
in his cheap cologne? His hair was styled into what should have been an attractive coif, but he'd gelled it to helmet hardness. She couldn't even begin to process the sheer wrongness of his dye-job.
At length, she shook her head. "Unfortunately," she said in the saddest tone she could muster, "I'm meeting someone."
It wasn't a lie. She
was
meeting someone. Well, three someones.
The man, undaunted, slanted what she guessed was a sexy smirk her way, "Ditch him."
"Can't," she smiled, standing from her seat at the bar and waving to the tall, dark-haired male who'd just walked in. "He's here now." She knew her wave might have been a little frantic, because the newcomer raised his eyebrows and chuckled.
She didn't waste a second in distancing herself from the man who seemed to be marinating in the sickeningly sweet scent of heavy cologne.
"Took you long enough," she snapped when she reached the front of the restaurant to stand next to her eldest brother.
Rhys laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm 5 minutes early!" He knew full well that she'd been eager to ditch the creep at the bar.
As they followed the hostess to a rounded a booth near the windowed wall on the far side of the expansive place and took their seats, his storm grey eyes twinkled with laughter. He pulled her into a one-armed hug as soon as her butt hit the rich leather. After a kiss to her cheek, he said, "Phil and Pothos are running late, but they should be here soon."
"Those two? Running late?" She feigned shock. "Excuse me while I find my 'surprised' face."
Rhys grinned. "I know, I know. Punctuality was never one of their strong suits."
"We'd be late for our own funerals and some such other nonsense, right?" an amused voice called from a few feet away. It was Philon.
Pothos gave a sheepish shrug from directly behind him. "I couldn't get away from...work. Yeah, that's it! I was working!"
Rhys frowned. "You're making women
pay
you to fuck them these days? That's beneath even you, brother."