Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary: Napoleon and Illya attempt to make their escape from a gold-obsessed collector who insists on keeping Illya as his collection’s centerpiece.

Notes:
This is a continuation of a drabble I wrote some time ago, but everything in that piece is summarized here.

Not cross-posting this as I’ll be expanding this in the future.

Illya desperately gripped Napoleon’s shoulders as Napoleon
stood in front of him, trying to shield him from the gold-obsessed collector
that had covered him in gold paint.  The man,
demanding to be called King Midas, had wanted to add Illya to his collection of
gold, but Napoleon had succeeded in rescuing him.

Unfortunately, their escape had been cut short due to the
discovery of the rescue (or, as Midas saw it, the “theft”).  Midas, now growing increasingly more hostile,
confronted them in the hall of the mansion as they tried to make their escape.

“I demand that you return my centerpiece to me at once, Mr.
Solo,” Midas sneered.  “He is the star of
my collection, and I demand you return him.”

“He isn’t a thing to be owned and put on display!” Napoleon
snarled.  “I wouldn’t let you do this to
anyone, but especially not to my partner!”

“I will have my centerpiece back,” Midas commanded.  “I will not allow you to hide him away from
the world just because you want him for your own selfish reasons!”

“…What!?” Napoleon demanded.

“As if a being of pure gold could ever be deserved by someone like you, Mr. Solo,” Midas sneered.  “I deserve him–to showcase his beauty to the world!”

“Don’t start with me,” Napoleon hissed.  “If you want a centerpiece so badly, then let him go and take me instead!”

“You!?  You are mere silver—second-rate!”

“Napoleon is not second-rate!” Illya fumed, his eyes
flashing with anger, prompting Napoleon and Midas to stare at him in surprise.  “Napoleon is the CEA of U.N.C.L.E.—a man who
has performed more heroics for the sake of helping others than anyone else I know.  Second-rate!?
He has always been a better man than I!”

“Illya…”

Illya now stood in front of Napoleon, trying to shield him,
knowing that Midas wouldn’t dare to shoot for fear of hitting his “centerpiece.”

“He and I are leaving this place,” Illya said, backing
away, and causing Napoleon to back away, too.
They were almost at the door.  “I do
not belong to you.”

He gripped Napoleon’s hand in his with one hand, and used
his free hand to open the door behind him.

“What do we do, Your Majesty?” Midas’s guards asked.  “Do we fire on them?”

“No!” Midas barked.  “You
will not fire upon my centerpiece!”  He
swore as Napoleon and Illya darted out of the door, fleeing.  “I will get my centerpiece back, just
wait!  And Solo will pay!”

Outside, the duo retreated to the cover of the gardens on
the grounds.

“We can try to make our way over the back wall,” Napoleon
was saying.  “That was how I got in here.”

“Good idea,” Illya said, and then he paused.  “I meant what I said, Napoleon.  I meant every word of it.”

“I know you did,” Napoleon said, managing a wan smile.  “And I just want to say that you’re not
second to me, either.  I’ve always considered us
as equals, no matter what our ranks at work may be.”

Illya had known that, but it had upset him to hear Napoleon
being insulted.  Nevertheless, he was
grateful for Napoleon’s words, as well as the rescue, as the two of them headed for the back
wall of the garden to make their escape.