Inwardly, the Russian smiled.  Of the few true pleasures he treasured in his short, extremely eventful life, moments like this: the sight of his usually self-controlled partner, utter amazement etched on the classically handsome features, was a favorite.  He found every rare opportunity to indulge himself.

The Russian nodded approvingly.  "Yes.  We're not looking at ancestors, nor past lives; those are our faces."

"But how?"

"The text goes on to say that 800 years ago a vision came to the first Kuryakin Prince...."  Here Illya paused waiting for that one word to sink in; he didn't wait long.

A pair of chocolate brown eyes stared at him as if he were an unknown species.

"Prince?"

"Minor nobility, Napoleon", Illya corrected.  "If you think that is a shock", he continued, "look at this."

Napoleon's obeyed, his gaze resting where the blond's finger lay on the text. There, written in the ancient text, were their names, but in modern spelling.  This newest shock caused the room to suddenly spin.

Illya reached out to steady his friend.  "Easy, Napasha, ", he cautioned, concern in his voice.  It would not do, especially as the time was near, for the American to have a relapse.

Solo slowly regained control.  "I'm okay", he assured the blond.  "Illya, exactly what part do I play in this?"

The Russian features grew serious.  Pulling Solo into a loose embrace, he blue eyes bore into the dark ones.  "How I love you, Napasha", he declared. "Listen carefully to what I'm about to say", he continued, "and give your response due consideration.  Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"We are to make love." What happened next was not the reaction he'd expected.

Solo tightening the embrace.  "The time has come!", he announced, his voice echoing in the empty room.

On cue the room was fully illuminated, revealing four opened doors, long built into the wall.  Ten men entered from each door and silently surrendered the lovers.  "We have arrived!", they chorused.

"Welcome", Napoleon responded, then stomped his left foot twice on the floor.   In response to the signal, a loud metallic sound filled the room. A section of the floor parted and a huge platform ascended.  On the platform was a magnificent canopied bed; its curtains and linen done in rich satins of red and white.

"There is my answer, Illyushka."

"Napoleon......", Illya began.

Solo put a finger to the Russian's lips.  "This is something I've dreamed, yes, even fantasied about for what seems like day one."   He sighed, suddenly compelled to continue.  "God!  I'm so tired of everyone expecting me to make the first move, to be the great seducer.  I want to surrender myself, completely, to someone I love above all else.  Will you do this for me?"

Illya smiled.  A true smile of happiness and content for the first time in days.  "So be it?"