The Prince

The Prince is a slash 150-page Star Trek: TOS K/S novel by Natasha Solten. 
The cover art of the second edition is by Shelley Butler, and there are no interior illustrations. 
This zine was edited by Dovya Blacque and Wendy Rathbone.
==Summaries==
From the publisher: 
From Media Monitor: 
Summary the back of the zine, a blurb that is also used by a distributor, Agent With Style: 
Summary from Gilda F: 
==A Typo==
"I recommend the following for a cheap, quick chuckle: Mkashef Enterprise's Wendy Rathbone Fanzine Catalogue 1996 — read the flyer of Natasha Solten's The Prince (p.37) very carefully. Spot the glorious typo! Can't you just imagine the scene?" a fan in The K/S Press #8
==From the Editorial==
==Excerpt from the Publisher==
""Spock."
Suppressing a smile, he nodded. Kirk had always begun conversations like that. Stating his name. As if the five letter word were strong enough, definitive enough to warrant its own sentence.
"Spock," he said again, then quickly continued, "Can I ask you something?"
"I believe you just did." But the construction came back to his throat again, just a little. He reached for his juice.
"It's this." He pointed to the grid. Words flashed across the space there, but Spock could not quite see them due tot he rec room glare and the fact they were upside down.
Relieved for the moment that this appeared to be a professional question, Spock said, "What do you have there?"
Kirk turned the grid so it faced him. His teeth worked his lover lip. "I don't understand why you didn't tell me."
Across the grid a headline formed. GALACTIC NEWSERVICE BULLETIN. COMMANDER SPOCK OF VULCAN, DECORATED STARFLEET HERO, NEXT SUCCESSOR TO T'PAU.
Spock swallowed hard. "I was only just informed myself two days ago," he replied. But it was not the explanation Kirk wanted, or deserved. Before he could continue, Kirk said, voice hushed and deep: "You're leaving again." He stared at his cooling eggs.
[][][][][][][][]
He suddenly found his voice. "It is so hard," he said, after years of being told you have no feelings, or should not have, to ignore it all." He caught his breath. He could smell Jim, sweat and soap and salt again. He thought he could hear the man's heart thrum.
"I know," Kirk said, voice a near whisper. Still, neither of them moved. "You said as much at breakfast. How they've hurt you." A small smile touched the corners of the firm mouth. "But like you told me that night after the fight. Remember? Don't let them get the best of you."
Spock remembered. And all he wanted to do was repeat the act. "They will control my mind no longer," Spock vowed. The human's eyes glittered. Spock felt suddenly dizzy, as if he were falling. But still he stood upright, unmoving.
The desert vista of ShiKahr scuttled across his memories, joining others he wanted to pulverize into dust. Red midday sky. Taunting young, pure-bred children who never laughed, and thus could learn only to disapprove. Gol masters who referred to his human blood as "stain". The illusion of non-emotion. The secrecy behind closed doors that refuted it. The hypocrisy. The masks they wore in place of the true self.
"You are," Spock forced from out a hot throat, through burning lips. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Kirk's arms lifted gracefully, but he did not yet touch Spock's shoulder. "My friend…"
Spock moved, then, stepping forward and pulling Jim to him hard, silencing the words. Words were still so hard. Too hard to say or to listen to. This was easier, strangely. Crushing warmth and humanity to his cold. He was the tundra. He had been too long waiting for sun."
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==References==
Category:Star Trek TOS Slash Zines
Category:1988 Zines