He was going to die, Karras thought unreproachfully.

What he had done to the princess's consort could have been seen as an act of war. It surely came across that way to the princess herself, for the moment it happened, she shot herself up from her seat and hurled herself across the table with the shriek of a battle cry. Glowing hands wrapped around Karras's throat in an instant as the voice of the Grand Ruler reverberated throughout the banquet hall. Warriors shouted and shifted around him, but all he could see was Princess Koriand'r's golden face loom over his own before the world began to disappear behind a blinding green light.

"Star..."

Nightwing's voice was strained and quiet, but it harbored some strange reign over the princess, for the flames of her powers dissipated instantly. She loosened her fingers off Karras's throat one and a time, staring at him through bloodlust eyes, until retreating altogether to tend to her battered lover. Galfore's royal guards had seized him, and Karras was dragged ceremoniously out of the hall, watching in a numb state of mind as Nightwing weakly whispered into the princess's ear.

…

…

"Why did you do it?"

Taryia—his lieutenant—loyally followed him down the hall, but Karras kept his head bent, watching idly as the floor slid beneath his heels, not finding it in himself to answer her question. Instead he stayed silent, giving in to the fierce currents of the royal guards as they tossed him around like a bag of rocks until he found himself in a dark, windowless prison cell.

…

…

By moonrise, Karras took to pacing the room for the thousandth time when the door swung open and spilled light and a mangled shadow across the cellar floor. Princess Koriand'r had returned, and Karras was going to be sentenced, almost certainly to death. With a resignation he had been building for hours, he turned to face his fate.

Instead, Standing alone in the doorway was Koriand'r's consort, his broken arm now cradled motherly in a sling and his other arm busy balancing a large amphora against his hip. He held an empty goblet in each hand.

"You Tamaraneans and your comically large jugs," Nightwing said in poor Tamaranean as he struggled holding the amphora. He made a face and quickly amended, "Not that I'm complaining." And then, "Don't tell Kory I said that."

Every laceration on his face was cleaned, sewn, and tended to with bandages. His jaw was swollen and blue, and the mark beside his mouth was unmistakable and incontrovertible, every knuckle of Karras's fists indelibly represented there. All the events of the day, which had been so nightmarish and unreal, were terribly, terribly true. Karras's throat closed up in shame.

"You could help me with this thing, Prince Karras."

Karras rushed over to pluck the amphora and goblets from the earthling and place it on the center table, where he began to pour the wine into each cup. Nightwing limped his way into the room, watching Karras carefully. "You haven't eaten yet. Do you like that… uh. That purple stuff? Or how about those green cubey things?" The consort turned his head and shouted at the door, where an attendant appeared and bowed his head.

"Green cubey things, please. From dinner."

The attendant, slightly confused, nodded and left as Nightwing picked up one of the goblets. "Take this. Sit on the bed. And drink."

Karras obeyed silently, unable to meet Nightwing's masked gaze. He sat himself on his cot and tipped the goblet into his mouth, taking careful, deliberate sips, as if measuring tiny volumes in his mouth until he found the goblet empty. Karras watched on as Nightwing moved to refill his cup before speaking. "Nightwing. I give my sincerest apologies about tonight's events."

"I'm going to kiss you."

"P-pardon?" Karras's voice cracked.

Nightwing dipped forward and pressed his lips into Karras, maneuvering in such a frighteningly passionate way Karras felt he would faint from the sheer awkwardness of it all.

Nightwing eventually pulled back and looked at Karras with an expecting stare. "English?"

Karras stammered, dumbfounded. "I-i, uh, I did not realize you were trying to exchange a language to me. It takes the knowing intention from the recipient for languages to pass."

"Oh, I see."

"And…"

Nightwing looked at him, waiting.

"And, we do not require the… tongue."

The mask rendered him unreadable, but Nightwing cocked a brow. "Sorry. A habit," was all he said before leaning in again. This next kiss was more clinical, and bearable, and mercifully lacked tongue.

"Do you understand me now?" Nightwing asked in a strange earthen language.

"Yes?"

"Then drink."

Karras drank.

"So about tonight," Nightwing started, filling Karras's goblet again before picking up a goblet for himself. "Was that some sort of Tamaranean ritual I'm not aware of? Was I supposed to defend myself?"

"No. I'm terribly sorry for it."

"You should be. You're very unoriginal, by the way. Everyone goes for breaking my arm."

Nightwing tipped the goblet into his mouth, smirking, and there was blatant humor laced into his words that perplexed Karras, for the princess's consort was not acting the way he should have been acting. Matters of politics and royal rights were on the line. With a lack of response to give the consort, Karras drank more wine.

"But I understand Kory's called off her betrothal with you."

Kory. Karras bristled. Nightwing referred to Princess Koriand'r too casually, throwing her name around like he owned it, like it was his to butcher and strip off its honorifics.

"She has."

"And you love her."

"I do."

"I don't blame you, Prince Karras. Kory's a ten-admirers-to-the-average-dozen, a-suitor-on-every-corner type of girl. It can be quite overwhelming."

Karras couldn't tell if it was resentment or pride behind Nightwing's tone—perhaps it was both. "I have no qualms with who the princess has chosen as her lover."

"Then what is it, Prince Karras? Did I offend you at the dinner in some way?"

No. He hadn't. Not inherently. Nightwing had just been… laughing, with a warm, uninhibited laugh. And Karras had watched on bitterly as Nightwing's arms had swung amicably over the Grand Ruler's shoulders, jovially recounting a story about him and the princess in an earthen adventure, summoning uproarious laughter from a table of high noblemen. Nightwing was nothing but a fragile earthling, who had such little grasp on the Tamaranean language and even less so on the culture, yet he had controlled the attention of the planet's most important officials with an ease that Karras lacked even as a prince, and it made Karras envious.

Then Nightwing did an egregious thing, he had looked at Karras from across the table, and smiled. Nothing opportunistic, or reverent, or malicious. Just the cordial smile of a man who had innocently stolen his intended wife (the heir to the throne) and command of the noble court without even trying, and it all seemed to be a little unbearable right then.

Nightwing's smile connected with Karras's fist, the framework of the earthling's face easily shifting against his knuckles, and Karras was hungry for the feel of it. Karras wanted to dismantle him, pulverize him into stardust and have Nightwing start all over again, but less handsome, less brilliant, less engaging, and handle life more fairly to the other players. The next thing Karras knew, he was staring down at Princess Koriand'r's consort, hanging limply by his tunic bunched up in Karras's bloodied fists.

And Karras, in some hysterical episode, needed to confirm that a being like Nightwing was made up of the same constituents: flesh and bone and sinewy muscle. With a gentle roll of his fingers, he broke through Nightwing's arm like the stem of a flower. (Because if he and Nightwing were made up of the same building blocks, there was hope for Karras still.)

Of course, he hardly believed that explanation would hold up as a royal pardon.

Suddenly Nightwing's face lightened, "Hey, gorgeous." And Karras felt the heat of the air before actually seeing her.

Princess Koriand'r stood at the doorway, looking down on Karras like an angry goddess, passionless and calculating. Even for a Tamaranean, her blood ran hotter than the rest. Even for a Tamaranean, she was more beautiful than the rest. And Karras, transfixed, belatedly dropped to his knees. He should have bowed his head, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Only her returning stare, her eyes like green galaxies, broke his rigor, and he finally lowered his head.

"My love, I said stay in the bedroom."

Nightwing stared. "You are so beautiful when you're angry."

"Do not undermine me in front of the prisoner."

"How does pointing out your beauty undermine you?"

"I prefer my presence not be considered enjoyable in any capacity for this particular moment."

"That's an impossible thing," Nightwing murmured, and left.

…

…

Much later, Koriand'r entered her bedroom with a hot bowl of soup. Dick sat miserably on the bed with a cold pack pressed to his bruised face, but his eyes lightened at the sight of her. He placed the cold pack down and gratefully cupped the soup into his own hands. "A goddess among mortals," he said in reverence.

"Alfred made a whole batch of your favorites that was frozen for the journey."

"Who did you think I was referring to?" Dick asked as he blew at the steam, eyeing her innocently. Kory couldn't help but take in everything about her lover at that moment. He was mangled and cut up and swollen and discolored, and still he was the most handsome thing she'd ever seen. And when he winked at her through a careful sip, Kory's stomach churned the way it did the first time she met him, and she realized she kind of understood Karras's sentiment.

"This is the third time this year someone's punched you in the face for being too charming, Nightwing."

Dick Grayson made a face of mock contemplation. "Imagine what it would be like if I wasn't wearing my mask. It's game over for everyone without the mask."

Kory crawled onto the bed and snaked a finger underneath the mask. At a tug, she was met with cobalt blue eyes, glazed with humor, and love, and—because she was looking for it—a hint of lust.

"You know, Karras told me something I found fascinating, babe."

"Hm?" Kory mumbled disinterestedly.

"Apparently, Tamaraneans don't need to use tongue when doing a language exchange."

Kory cracked a grin. "Is that so?"

"I was very surprised, since you've taught me all these 'kissing techniques' that need to be done to make the transfer work."

Kory bunched up Dick's shirt in her hands and pulled him in for the first of many kisses. "Remind me again those techniques."

…

…

The next morning, Karras was pardoned from any accusations of breaking peace customs, and was offered a visit to the Titans Tower on diplomatic grounds whenever he found the time.

For RobStar Week 2019 Day 2: Stardust. Karras is Starfire's betrothed in the comics. Taryia is the girl Karras falls in love with.