Orion couldn't stop trembling.

It wasn't withdrawal - the last hit he had taken before coming to the palace had not yet worn off completely. No, it was pure terror making his body quake. He was not looking forward to having everything he had let slip from his hands be slapped in his face. If he'd had a little more self-control two years ago, he'd be at the Memoria right now, receiving guests for Mevinje's grand Christmas Ball. He would have been the one to inspect every piece of china and silverware and to tie Merovingian knots in the ties of every staff member working the event with his own two hands. He would have stood back and watched the Ball progress smoothly, and when it was done, he would have taken his staff out to celebrate and get blackout drunk.

"Orion, my boy! You came!"

Orion was nearly bowled over by a hefty five-foot-five body slamming into him after gaining momentum by flying down the grand staircase. "Oh, I was so worried you wouldn't come!" King James boomed, hammering Orion's back with his giant paw. "After all, it was awfully rude of me to send my personal invitation through a second person!"

"Good...evening," Orion gasped, trying to judge if one of his vertebrae had been driven into his lungs. "Your Majesty."

"Sir! It's sir to you!"

"Good evening, sir!"

"That's right!" The King pounded Orion's back again, and the latter was convinced he'd heard his skeleton creak. "Oh my, why are you shaking? Are you ill?"

"Just nervous," Orion replied, resisting the urge to go to the bathroom and check for bruises.

"Ah, is it the grandeur of today's affair? Don't worry, don't worry!" The King patted Orion on the back a third time, almost making him cry. "You're this old man's special guest! That makes you one of the glitterati. Can you dance? Want me to teach you a couple of moves?"

"No!" Orion's eyes widened in horror at the visual of spinning the King of Mevinje around the Memoria's ballroom, the latter's Viking beard trailing behind them in lieu of a woman's skirts. "Um. Ahem. I mean, I can dance a little."

"Then you're set! Trust me, not everyone there can dance. I've had my fair share of awkward collisions and crushed feet."

"Good evening, Your Majesty! Oh, isn't today exciting?"

The King smiled tightly as a young woman descended the stairs, dressed in an eye-catching scarlet gown and carrying herself like a noble. "That's Elisa Dursham, Duchess of...somewhere," the King told Orion. "I'd invited her to meet with Culver in the hopes that they'd hit it off and I could arrange a marriage, but she's a little hard to deal with and Culver wants nothing to do with her."

It's not because he can't take her, Orion thought. It's because she doesn't have the right equipment between her legs.

"Good evening, Miss Dursham," the King said. "I hope our little soiree tonight is to your liking."

"Oh, I am most certain that I will have the time of my life - well, hello."

"Lady Dursham, let me introduce you to Mr. Orion Blake, a close friend of the Prince."

Orion greeted her, but she didn't greet him back, too busy staring at his long braid. "Are you a hipster?" she asked, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

Never mind. It's her personality Culver can't stand.

"No," Orion responded.

"Then what are you? Who are you to His Highness? He wouldn't introduce me to any of his friends, I've been so -"

"He's a busy man, Lady Dursham." Culver's cold voice sounded from behind Orion, making the latter jump out of his skin. "We should be leaving."

"Good evening, Culv-"

"That's 'Your Highness' for you, Miss Dursham. Orion, come with me - I can't get my bowtie right."

"But it's tied perfec-"

Before he knew what was happening, Orion had been whisked out of the hall and through a side door into a broom closet. "What the hell do you think you're doing," he whisper-yelled. "Are you trying to attract atten-"

Culver clamped a hand over Orion's mouth and dropped his head onto Orion's chest. "Just...give me a second," he said, his voice shaking a little.

 "Hey, are you okay?"

"Thank you for coming today." Lifting his head off Orion's chest, he looked up at him with pain swirling in his eyes. "I know how hard today is going to be on you."

"I'll be fine," Orion lied, bringing his shaking hands up to cup Culver's face. "But why is today hard on you?"

"The guy I told you about, the one who died two years ago...today is the day I refused my help to him. And...I've not attended the Ball since my brother passed away."

"I'm sorry." Orion paused. "Is a hug appropriate in this situation?"

"I'd love one."

Culver sighed in satisfaction as Orion wrapped his arms around him. It was during times like these that he was thankful for his small height - hugs given by much larger men like Orion felt heavenly. For a few seconds, he relished the comfortable warmth of the embrace, but then he began to get drowsy and he pulled away. "Thank you," he smiled. "You give amazing hugs."

"And you give terrible ones," Orion joked. "If I have to do this long term, I'm going to develop a hunch."

That earned him a slap and a chase all the way to the main hall. Lady Dursham, irritated by Culver's obvious preference for Orion's company, insisted on sharing a car with him, leaving Orion to ride with the King. He felt extremely out of place and more than a little awkward: how was he to act once the car stopped? Was he supposed to open the door for the King? What would he say when the staff at the Memoria recon

"Today's a big day," said King James, pulling Orion out of his panicked spiral.

"I see," Orion responded for lack of anything else to say.

"Neither I nor Culver have attended this ball since Caolan's death. It just didn't feel right to celebrate while my innocent son paid the price for my ignorance. But then Culver had that dreadful fall, and I realized I couldn't make my only remaining child's life bleak while punishing myself. He deserved a change of pace, something to cheer him up."

Why are you telling me all this? Orion thought, very uncomfortable. I don't deserve it. I'm not as upstanding as you think.

"I noticed his interest in the Ball," the King continued, "but he was too scared to go on his own after being so reclusive all these years. I saw him practicing how to ask you to accompany him. But he was too much of a chicken to ask you, so I asked you instead!"

King James grinned proudly, patting himself on the back for the favor he'd done his son. But like every kid on the receiving end of such well-intentioned interference by a parent, Culver would probably be embarrassed by it if he knew, much like a boy would if his mother asked his crush to go out with him.

So it was Culver who had wanted him to come. He felt mighty pleased about it, as if he had won some small victory by having the Prince desire his company. That was the only good thing happening to him currently anyway.

As the car neared the Memoria and the surroundings became more and more familiar, Orion began to get more and more upset. He was sweating in his tuxedo, his shivering worsened, his thoughts scattered in wake of his wild panic and tears began to pool in his eyes. Then the car turned onto the lavish boulevard which housed the Memoria, and he almost threw up.

"Paparazzi," he rasped, his throat dry and a painful lump swelling in it.

"Well, it's to be expec - hey, what's wrong, son?"

He couldn't do it. It was impossible. Barron had told him not to come back. He'd notice that the drug use hadn't stopped. The staff would see. The whole country would see. How was he to move around freely then? He couldn't function without drugs anymore, but everyone would recognize him. He was going to be publicly disgraced. Then he'd never be able to see his family.

But...If he didn't go, Culver would be sad. The King would be sad.

"Please," he gasped. "Let me go to the parking lot with the chauffeur."

"Why? Oh God, there's no bag in here, don't throw up." The King wrung his hands before knocking on the partition. "Liam! Got a bag up there?"

"Sir?" came a polished voice, very confused.

"I'll enter through a less crowded entrance," Orion said, by now bent double. "Please...sir. The cameras...I can't."

"How will you even get in? They're not just going to let you -"

"I know someone on the inside."

"...argh, fine." King James glanced out the window - it was almost his turn to disembark. "If you get stuck, call me. Here, have my personal number."

Orion was much too distressed to feel honored about having the King's cellphone number. The car stopped just as the King was returning his phone to his pocket. The chauffeur got out and opened the door for him; instantly, the roar of hundreds of adulating, excited throats flooded in. Camera flash bulbs worked in overtime as the King waved and smiled on his way to the entrance.

"Thank God," Orion sighed, unsticking his torso from the seat's back. "Though I wonder what people will think of the random pair of legs sticking out from the backseat of the King's car."

*

Coming here was starting to seem increasingly like a bad idea. 

Culver scowled deeply. People kept expressing unnecessary sympathy to him about Caolan, he'd been introduced to at least twenty unmarried women, he was hungry and Orion had vanished into thin air. "How do you lose a guy that large?" he muttered to himself. "It's not like he's an unobtrusive fellow."

So busy was he in looking for Orion that he forgot to watch his feet and ended up stumbling straight into Ankush, Dr. Deo's son, spilling the latter's drink.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry," Culver said, holding out his handkerchief. "Did it get on your clothes?"

"Oh, no, it didn't." Ankush smiled genially and waved the handkerchief away. "It's been a while, Your Highness."

"It has. Say, have you seen a tall man with long brown hair down to his waist?"

Ankush's face suddenly twisted with displeasure. "You mean Orion Blake," he said. "How does Your Highness know him?"

"We met downtown and became friends. How about you?"

"We...were in college together. Also, he stayed with us for two weeks. If I may be so direct, Your Highness, he's not the best company to keep. He...he has an unfortunate drug problem."

Culver felt extremely irritated by Ankush's words, and he couldn't explain why. "I know about his addiction," Culver said testily. "Dr. Deo and I are working together to help him. Now, do tell me if you saw him."

Ankush went pale with shock at Culver's indignation. "He stumbled in through the staff entrance a few minutes ago," he said. "He seemed beside himself with panic. He looked around, turned and fled through that last door. I think I saw him go up the grand staircase."

Culver turned and almost ran out of the room, ignoring anyone who called out to him. The few hotel employees in the lobby gasped in shock as Culver whizzed by, flying up the stairs and nearly bowling over a bellboy. "Did you see a man with long hair pass by?" he demanded, giving the man a thorough shake.

The bellboy couldn't decide whether to answer Culver's question or melt into a puddle of blubbering admiration. It was hard to think when his brain was being shaken in his skull like a baby rattle. "Your - yes - Blake - Highness - I'm - so - 247B," he spluttered.

"Thank you!"

"Ngeh-ngah-mmm-bleumble."

247B was a large room under renovation, steeped in darkness save for the moonlight filtering through two glass doors leading to the balcony. Seated on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest and his head in his hands was Orion, the top of his head silhouetted against the light and surrounded by swirling dust motes.

Please don't be high, Culver prayed as he cautiously stepped into the room. I need you too much right now.

"Orion?" he called, gently.

"Culver." Orion's voice, hoarse from using, was heavy with despair. "I'm sorry. I got scared."

Culver knelt before him and examined his eyes in the dim light. They were dilated, but not unnaturally. "I didn't take a hit," Orion said. "I just...I couldn't take it."

"Did someone say something to you?"

"No...it was just too much. All of this...the band, the table arrangements, the food, the decoration...it should've been me. I should have been the one to arrange it." Much to Culver's astonishment, a couple of tears ran down Orion's cheeks. "What have I done, Culver? My life is ruined. It hurts...it hurts so much to see what I gave up for the sake for that shitty powder. I traded everyone who loved me, everyone who looked up to me for...for this?!"

Culver cupped Orion's face tenderly, just like Orion had done for him before. "You can fix it," he told him, wiping away Orion's tears with his thumb. "You can have all of this back."

"I can't!" came Orion's heartbroken wail. "I'm not capable of it anymore! The old Orion Blake is dead!"

"Oh, Orion...come here." Culver tried to pull Orion into a hug, but the latter resisted. "I'm not worthy," the tall man sobbed. "I'm not worthy of your help...your belief in me...I'm scum. I'm not a good guy, Culver, I'm a lost cause."

"Don't say that, Orion. I know there's good in you. I've seen it."

"I...am not capable of good. If I were, everyone I loved wouldn't have left me." Orion slumped against Culver, a broken man. "I'm worthless."

From downstairs floated the first few notes of a sonata, their cheery melody contrasting sharply with the sorrow in the dusty room. Culver held Orion tightly, offering silent support, racking his brain for something to help alleviate his companion's depression. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

He stood up, dusted plaster and dust off his knees and held out a hand to Orion. "Get up," he said.

Orion looked up. "What?" he asked, sniffing wetly.

"Wipe your eyes and nose. Here." Culver gave Orion his handkerchief. "Good. Now - get up." In the background, the music swelled and its pace picked up, as if encouraging Orion too.

"Um. Alright..." Very confused, Orion got to his feet, and got even more bewildered as Culver stretched his arm out towards him, palm up. "Eh?"

Culver smiled warmly, a little shyly, tucking his other arm behind his back and bowing a little.

"Orion Blake," he said. "May I have the first dance?"