Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a beloved queen. When the queen was with child, she grew very sick. Her loyal kingdom guards were tasked with finding a way to save her baby before they ran out of time.
They found a miracle. A golden flower that carried the magic of the sunlight itself with the ability to heal all illness and injury. The magic of the golden flower healed the queen and she gave birth to a healthy baby boy with beautiful golden hair. To celebrate Ilya's birth, the Queen released a floating lantern into the sky, and for one moment, everything was perfect.
However, not everyone was happy with the Queen's use of the flower. A man named Grigori had been hoarding the healing power to keep himself young and his mind sharp for hundreds of years. He grew angry that his flower was taken from him and sought to steal it back. One night, Grigori broke into the castle and stole the child. He took the prince to a hidden tower deep within the forest where he raised the child as his own, determined to keep his magic flower hidden for good this time.
The Kingdom searched and searched, but they could not find the prince. The Queen never lost hope, though.
Each year on the prince's birthday, the Queen released thousands of lanterns into the sky in the hope that one day, her lost prince would return.
“Are you stupid or insane?”
Shane jumped, whirling around to face where the voice came from. He rolled his eyes as soon as he saw the uniformed man standing there, leaning as casually as he could against a tree with arms crossed and a sour expression on his face.
“Both,” Shane answered. His chest heaved with the force of his breathing after running through the entire crown city of Soleil.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Hayden Pike said, eyes never leaving the satchel resting at Shane’s hip. “You could’ve gotten caught. You still could, they won’t stop looking for that crown.”
Shane shrugged, fingers clenching instinctively over the strap of the satchel. He’d gone through too much, risked everything all for this crown. There was no chance he’d ever let the royal guard take it back, not when so much rested on his ability to get it to the right person.
“I didn’t,” Shane said simply, like his heart didn’t give a lurch painfully in his chest at the idea of being caught by Captain Crowell’s men.
When a younger Shane Hollander dreamed of his future, he never imagined he would end up an enemy of the crown. On the contrary, he’d always pictured himself on one of the grand white horses that marched down the cobblestone streets of Soleil, guarding and defending the kingdom with his brothers in arms. He’d had that, too, once upon a time. Freshly eighteen and ready to take on the world, the first thing Shane had done was sign up for the royal guard. He’d excelled too, on a fast-track to one day take over the Captain’s position when it was time for him to retire. Everything had been perfect.
But now Shane was nothing better than a thief, apparently.
The crown weighed fair heavier than the metal should at Shane’s hip. It threatened to burn right through him the longer he carried it with him, as if it were the brand that marked Shane as a criminal.
“You know what they’d do to you if they caught you, right?” Hayden pressed, leaning up and off of the tree he was previously holding himself up with. “There wouldn’t be a trial. They’d send you straight to the gallows.”
“I know that!” Shane yelled back, his heart still racing from his escape out of the city combined with the sudden reminder of what was at stake. “I didn’t have a choice! It’s the only thing she’ll w–Are you gonna help me or not?”
Hayden sighed and looked to the sky, as though he really didn’t want to say what he already knew he had to. “Of course, man. But if they arrest you, I can’t, I can’t do it.”
“I know.” Of course, he knew. He and Hayden worked together for years, they were best friends and practically brothers by now. Shane didn’t have to be told of everything that Hayden was risking just by helping Shane out of the city, just by even standing in front of him and not immediately trying to bring him in. “Jackie and the kids come first. I wouldn’t want it any other way, either.”
“They miss their Uncle Shane, you know. It sucks trying to explain why they can’t see you. Fuck, I’m waiting for the day Ruby decides she wants to be a thief like you.”
A laugh burst out of Shane then, sounding just on the edge of unease. They were out of the city, but they still weren’t far enough for comfort. The edge of the forest was close, a mere minutes’ walk form the small alcove where they stood now. The royal guard would be catching up to him soon.
Still, he missed his friend. Shane didn’t get very many opportunities to talk to him anymore.
“I’ll tell her myself it’s not a good career goal,” Shane laughed. His fingers twitched against the strap of his satchel again, a reminder of what he had to do. “I should go. Thanks for everything, Hayden.”
“Just go clear your fuckin’ name and come home, alright, buddy?”
There was an ache in his chest as Shane turned and walked away from his friend and former brother-in-arms. All he wanted to do was walk back with him to the city. He wanted to be brought to the Pike home, where he could hug Jackie and catch up on everything he’d missed for the last few years. He wanted to spend time with the kids. He’d never even met their youngest and their only son, Arthur. Shane knew that the family often spoke about their Uncle Shane, but would the kid eventually grow up having never met him, having only heard stories of old and that now Shane was nothing more than a thief?
Shane missed his family. He couldn’t write to his parents. He couldn’t risk exposing where he was with every letter, nor could he drag them into his problems. As far as Yuna and David knew, according to Hayden, he’d died while defending the Queen, he’d died a hero.
The wanted poster was like a beacon. It dragged Shane in, pulling him off of his path so he could stand in front of the tree it was posted onto.
WANTED
DEAD OR ALIVE
Shane Hollander
Thief
Reward from the Crown
The picture was hand-drawn. They’d gotten his image well, the details correct straight down to the freckles dotted along his cheeks. The furious and dangerous expression felt a little exaggerated, though Shane supposed it was there way of making the public realize that he was a dangerous criminal.
It was never supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be him on that poster. If everything had gone right, if Captain Crowell wouldn’t have been part of the entire scheme, then maybe he could still be home. He’d have woken up in a warm bed in the middle of Soleil rather than out here in the woods, up in a tree so he wasn’t accidentally found overnight. If only he’d gone to the right person with what he’d found, and then maybe instead of him it would be K–
“There he is!”
Fuck.
Shane took off into a sprint, chest heaving with both the exertion of running through the woods and the fear of being caught. Why were the Royal Guard this far out into the woods? They normally didn’t stray too far away from Soleil, not even for him.
Crowell must be getting desperate to catch him.
No matter how far Shane ran, the Guard continued to give chase. They had their horses but even still Shane could stay just far enough ahead. He knew these woods nearly in his sleep.
“Hollander! Give it up!”
Dallas Kent.
The rage that warmed Shane’s body allowed him to press harder, faster, anything to get away from that man. He’d never allow Dallas Kent to be the one to bring him to the noose. He’d rather it be anyone else.
But his horse was gaining. Shane could hear the galloping grow louder behind him, could hear the shouts from the man more clearly with every second. There was a steep drop-off not far ahead.
Turn and he’d break his momentum. Kent would surely catch up to him then.
Continue and he’ll run himself straight off of a cliff. Kent wouldn’t catch him, but then he’d die a criminal.
Shane was stuck.
There was no way out, nothing he could do to get himself out of this. Kent would catch him with a lost prince’s crown in his bag, and that would be the final evidence needed to send him directly to the gallows.
He’d never get to prove that he hadn’t done what the entire kingdom thought he was capable of.
Shane turned sharply to the left, not caring where he was going as long as it was far from the man who was giving chase.
“Kent! Captain’s called us back!”
Hayden.
Shane didn’t have time to wonder if Hayden was telling the truth or not, couldn’t turn around and thank him for risking his life to save his. All he could do was continue to run, even long after the sound of a horse sprinting through the brush disappeared behind him.
Shane was safe.
Still he ran.
He ran and ran until his cheeks were bright red and his chest heaved painfully. Each breath was sharp and burned, every muscle in his legs protesting as he continued to push them farther than they’d ever gone before.
Shane ran until he reached a clearing.
It was beautiful, with rock walls spread out in a near perfect circle around it except for the narrow opening of trees he’d run through. On the opposite rock wall, a small waterfall made its way down over the ledge into a modest lake. The trees gave way to other foliage—bushes and flowers and other plants that Shane never knew the name of. He couldn’t see any animals but several birdsongs lifted across the alcove to his ears.
At the center of it all was a tower.
Just one, completely out of place here in the middle of the forest. It looked made of white stone, and though there was no obvious way up Shane could see one long rope tumbling out from the window at the top of it.
With no other sign of life except for him, Shane approached the tower.
Who had lived here? Why had Shane never found this clearing before today?
At least he would have somewhere safe and warm to rest from today’s adventure. Then he could find Elena, could bring her the crown and set to motion everything he’d been planning for months.
Just one night of rest first.
Shane’s muscles burned as he grabbed onto the rope to climb. It was painful on his arms and legs that had already been pushed far beyond the limit, but with no other choice but to endure Shane continued to pull himself up. By the time he reached the top of the tower, Shane thought his body might actually give out from exhaustion.
Inside, the tower was relatively small but heavily packed with items. Almost every single inch of the walls, floors, and ceilings were painted. Everything from birds to stars drifting out over the night sky all delicately painted on the surfaces. There was no clear delineation between bedrooms or kitchen or living space, only a small half-set of stairs that led to a landing where two beds rested.
Shane took only one step further into the tower before a sharp pain cracked across his head and everything went black.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The world came back to Shane slowly, though not slowly enough to avoid the dull throb behind his eyes as he cracked them open. His vision blurred painfully, the harsh light of the day making the pounding in his head worse. Shane struggled to remember what got him here, only that his head hurt now. His body felt stiff, like he hadn’t moved it in hours.
The last Shane remembered was talking to Hayden, who was warning him about continuing to sneak into the city like he was. Shane had the crown, he’d actually somehow gotten it despite the amount of security that the Royal Guard places around it even after all of these years. The guilt hit him first, remembering how the crown felt in his hands, the heavy weight of it at his hip as he ran through the woods. This was the crown that the lost prince was supposed to have worn when he’d grown up, the crown that only sat in the throne room now to be mourned over.
And Shane had stolen it.
All for a good cause. The Queen will understand, when Shane has the chance to explain.
He’d been running. Through the woods, Shane thought, which was strange until he remembered that he was wanted. For what happened before, but also for the crown that he’d shoved into his bag and disappeared with. Hayden saved his life, Shane’s pretty sure, which was a stupid move of the man who had a family to protect but brave all the same. Shane would owe him for the rest of his life.
There was a tower. It was in a clearing Shane had never seen before, and he’d climbed the rope that was hung down from the only opening in the tower he could see. It was only then that he was attacked, not by the Royal Guard but by someone else, someone he hadn’t seen before he’d passed out.
He was still in the tower.
A man stood in front of him, with golden curls on top of his head and a sharp look in his light eyes. The man was objectively gorgeous, in that sharp way that made Shane’s breath hitch in his chest and his stomach buzz pleasantly. If it weren’t for the situation Shane was escaping from or the mystery of the tower itself, Shane might’ve tried to speak to the man. He held onto a frying pan, keeping it pointed at Shane as though it were a weapon. And that–
“Did you hit me with a frying pan?”
“Shut up. Answer my questions,” the man snapped, shaking the pan in his hand a little as if in threat. “Why are you here? What do you want with my hair?”
“Your hair? What the fuck would I want with your hair?” Shane groaned. Maybe this was why he’d never found this tower before, it was inhabited by someone who was out of his mind. Why did this man think Shane wanted anything to do with his hair? The curls were admittedly pretty, but they were just that: curls of hair. This man was clearly unpredictable, someone that Shane couldn’t trust not to hurt him if he truly thought there was a threat.
He had to get out of here. Shane attempted to stand but found he couldn’t move his limbs at all. Looking down, Shane saw he was tied with rope to a chair, each of his limbs lashed down either an arm or leg of the chair. He was stuck, completely at the mercy of this gorgeous man with a frying pan which was, surprisingly, a very effective weapon when used alongside the element of surprise.
“Look, I don’t know who you are. I don’t want your hair, or anything to do with you. I just wanted a place to sleep,” Shane explained, and though his wrists were tied firmly down to the chair he lifted his palms up as much as he could as if to prove he was no threat to the man. “Untie me, and I’ll leave. I won’t ever come back, I promise.”
“How did you find me?”
“Untie me and I’ll tell you,” Shane pushed, groaning when the man lifted the frying pan back up. Please don’t hit me again! “Would you quit it with the frying pan?”
“It worked on you, didn’t it? Now who are you?”
“You have a lot of questions.”
“Maybe you should try answering them,” the man said back. “Start with your name.”
He wasn’t going to get out of this, was he? The man had no intentions of freeing Shane. He didn’t make any of his intentions clear, actually, which was terrifying in a way that Shane had never before experienced. Would this man try to keep him there forever? Would he kill him once he’d gotten all of the questions out of Shane that he needed to hear? Was there something altogether more sinister that Shane couldn’t even come up with?
Shane sighed, leveling the man with a long stare before admitting, “Shane Hollander.”
A long pause passed between them, where the man simply stared at him instead of giving any of the numerous responses Shane had never quite grown used to receiving in the years since the incident. No scared looks, no screaming, no pleas for mercy, nothing. There was simply this man, staring at him like he couldn’t care that one of the most wanted criminals in all of Soleil was sitting in his tower.
This man only continued to get more interesting.
Either he somehow hadn’t heard of Shane — which seemed highly unlikely given the highly publicized nature of the incident as well as the severe propaganda and witch-hunt that the Royal Guard had put together in the years since — or the man simply didn’t care that he was in the room with the most wanted man in all of Soleil.
“Do I get your name now?” Shane asked, even though he knew to expect the sharp shake of the man’s head that he got in return. “Look, blondie, I’m not here to hurt you. I was running through the woods and came across your tower. I climbed up to have a place to sleep for the night. That’s it. I don’t want you, or your hair, or whatever else you think I’m here for.”
“Really? You’re not here for me, Shane Hollander?”
“No. Now could you let me go?” Shane asked, looking down to test the restraints wrapped firmly around his waist. Still no budge. There was no space between his back and the chair, his hips pressed uncomfortably to the wooden seat. He must have been tied here soon after being hit, because his body was sore from the lack of movement and from being forced to hold this position for so long.
It was only then that Shane realized.
The satchel at his waist was gone.
The crown, missing for real.
Everything he needed to clear his name, the only thing that Elena wanted in return for her work, all of it gone in however long he’d been out for.
His heart raced in his chest, panic beginning to making the muscle work overtime and his lungs collapse and expand far too quickly to be effective. Shane looked up at the man again, who stood looking as unaffected as before. The man stood with his arms crossed, the frying pan tucked up under and held in one of his hands. He didn’t seem to care about Shane’s panic, nor about the fact that he continued to try to fight against his ties. The man seemed to know he was at the advantage, and that Shane wouldn’t be able to get out of the binds he’d put him in.
Who was this man?
“Where’s my bag?”
“I hid it,” the man answered nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just completely ruined the rest of Shane’s life.
“Look, blondie–”
“It’s Ilya.”
“Right. Sure. Ilya, I need that bag,” Shane explained, struggling enough against the ropes tied around him that he could feel the irritation cropping up along his skin under the material. He knew he should relax, or at least stop fighting, but the panic clawing up his throat and out of his sternum wouldn’t let him. “Give it back.”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s mine!”
“Is it? You don’t look like someone who would own a crown.”
This man was the most irritating man that he’d ever met. Shane needed that bag. He couldn’t leave this tower without it, not when it was so vital to the plan. Leaving without the crown meant he was going to spend the rest of his days like this—a criminal, wanted by the Crown and hunted constantly by the men he used to call his brothers. He’d always be looking over his shoulders, constantly living with the fear of the noose if he made one bad decision, one mistake. Shane would make himself go crazy with that fear if he wasn’t able to fix all of this with that crown. That wasn’t an option, not when Shane had so much left to look forward to, if only he could return safely to Soleil.
No, this strange man had to give him the crown back.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Shane Hollander,” Ilya said, smirking at the loud groan Shane let out at that.
“A deal? How about you give me back the bag and I’ll never come back.”
“That is no fun, is it?”
“You’re an asshole, you know that, Ilya?” Shane pushed back, rolling his eyes at the unbothered shrug the man gave him. “Fine. What are your conditions?”
“Do you know what these are?” Ilya asked, walking over to a large expanse of wall and pointing at the painting there.
It was obviously of Soleil. Shane could see the familiar castle rising up above the large city jam-packed with buildings. He could see the large lake around it, keeping the city separated from the forest around it on all sides. It was night in this painting, the only light coming from the hundreds of small balls of light floating out from Soleil.
“You mean the lanterns?” Shane asked, tilting his head to the side as he regarded the painting again. “The ceremony they do every year for the lost prince?”
“Lanterns,” Ilya breathed, looking up at the painting with wide eyes as if he’d never once considered that an option. “They’re lanterns. Of course they are.”
“Okay. Why are you asking me about the lanterns?”
“You are going to take me to them.”
Shane laughed. The noise clearly startled Ilya, making him jump and begin to raise the pan in his hand before he realized there was no threat. He couldn’t stop laughing though, not until tears began to slip down his cheeks and his stomach hurt from the effort.
Of all the things for this man to ask, it had to be one of the few that Shane couldn’t do. The man might as well have asked Shane to walk into the headquarters of the Royal Guards and drop to his knees for all that would do for him.
“Can’t do that, Ilya. Soleil and me, we don’t exactly get along right now.”
“That’s too bad, pretty boy. I guess you will have to leave here empty-handed then.”
“What?” Shane gasped, fighting once more against the rope ties even when that hadn’t worked in his past attempts. There was no way he could leave without that satchel, but what Ilya was asking him for was too much. “No, you have to give me that bag. It’s mine!”
“Then take me to see the floating lanterns. Is simple, Hollander.”
“No, it’s not.” Shane stopped struggling when a drop of blood slid down his wrist. “You don’t understand. If I go back to Soleil, they’ll kill me. Do you want me to die?”
“I want to see the floating lanterns.”
“You asshole,” Shane hissed, looking up to the ceiling to gather his thoughts before looking back at Ilya, who seemed unmoved from before. “Fine. If I take you to see the lanterns, you’ll give me my satchel back?”
“When you return me safely home.”
This was a bad idea. It was maybe the worst idea that Shane had in a long time. Already he could hear Hayden yelling at him. But the man had a frying pan that was far too good as a weapon, and he had Shane tied up completely helplessly. There was no other way to get this satchel back, nothing that Shane could come up with to get himself out of this situation.
He wished he’d never climbed this damn tower.
“Why do you want to see them so badly anyway?”
“That is none of your business, Hollander.”
“I think it should be, if I’m risking my life for it,” Shane said back. “Don’t you get a better view of them from here, anyway?”
Ilya sighed, finally tearing his eyes away from the painting of the lanterns to look back at Shane. “All I have wanted is to see those lanterns in-person. My father does not believe I can handle the trip. I want to prove to him that I can.”
“Your father? Won’t he know you’re gone?”
“No. I asked him for new paints for my birthday. He won’t be back for days,” Ilya explained, stepping closer to Shane. “So. Do we have a deal, Shane Hollander?”
“Give me my satchel now and we do.”
“Not a chance,” Ilya said back, smirking all the while. “I do not trust you.”
“That’s probably a wise decision.”
“The question is, do you trust me?”
“Not a chance,” Shane echoed, feeling his own smirk lift his lips as Ilya laughed at his words. “Against my better judgment, I’ll help you anyway.”
“You’ll take me to see the lanterns?”
“We’re going to do this my way. You have to listen to me, got it? If you’re with me, Soleil won’t like you either.”
“Understood. We will go to Soleil to see these lanterns, and you will bring me back here immediately after. Only then will you get your satchel,” Ilya explained.
It was objectively a bad deal for Shane. Too much could go wrong, there were too many ways that this man could screw him over and leave him for dead.
Shane would do anything for that satchel and the crown, though.
Maybe this was karma. Maybe this was the world punishing him for stealing from the lost prince. He’d taken the crown that poor boy was destined to wear someday, and in return Shane had to risk his life to see the lanterns that were lit in the honor of that same boy.
He just had to hope that it was all worth it at the end of this.
Take this strange beautiful man to see the lanterns. Get the crown back. Clear his name.
Shane could finally go home again.
“You have yourself a deal, Ilya,” Shane agreed. “Let’s go see those lanterns.”