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"Prince Shane, please give our guests a proper welcome."
Shane has been hiding behind his mother, but now he's forced to step forward, as etiquette demands.
He sees two men standing there, both dressed in ceremonial robes lined with fur; they are wearing crowns. Their auras are intense, even the younger one's. In fact, despite being around Shane's age, he looks much more mature, with his spine ramrod straight and a serious face. He's a spitting image of his father: blonde hair, blue eyes, the same raw power. But when he looks directly at Shane—it makes something inside Shane flutter.
It also coaxes him to fully reveal himself, to join his hands and bow properly.
"Hello," he says, willing his voice to sound strong. "My name is Prince Shane of Hollanderia. Welcome to the palace, your majesties."
The foreign King's aura intensifies, making Shane shake, but he bravely tries to keep a straight posture. That man is certainly an Alpha, and so is his son, as young as he might be.
"Prince Shane, please show Prince Ilya to the gardens. We have important matters to discuss here."
Shane knows it's serious when his mother adapts this tone. He dejectedly obeys, nodding at the foreign prince—Ilya—to follow.
The gardens are his favourite place in the whole palace. They have pretty flowers, pavilions to read and drink tea in, animals visiting, koi ponds, moss-stone bridges, and plenty of places to hide.
"I saw a black squirrel yesterday," he says enthusiastically to the foreign prince as he drags him down to the northern corner. "Do you have black squirrels in Rozanovia?"
Prince Ilya seems wildly uninterested and unimpressed by the wonders of the garden, but his eyes soften a fraction as he looks down at Shane. Even at seven, he's taller.
"I don't think so. But we have black bears!"
"Black bears?!" Shane stops abruptly. "They must be magnificent. Are they bigger than us?"
Prince Ilya is stumped only for a moment, and then he answers, "Yes, but I'll protect you from them."
"Yay!"
They spend time together in the garden, playing chase (Shane loses every time), drinking tea (Ilya dislikes it), playing with colourful stones on the edge of the small stream running through the gardens, fighting with stick swords, and looking at the illustrations of sacred animals in the book Shane got for his birthday.
Sunset starts colouring the sky in pink all too soon. Shane has been tracing the shapes of the clouds with his fingers from where he lies with his head on Ilya's lap.
"Do you have to go?"
He likes the way Ilya plays with his hair—he's much more gentle than the nanny combing his hair in the morning.
"Do you want me to stay?"
Shane sits up abruptly. "Yes! You can stay here forever! I won't be alone!"
"I can't."
With tearful eyes, Shane gets on his knees, ready to beg.
"You have to! You have to stay! You can't leave me alone!"
"It's okay, Shane." Ilya carefully puts his hands on Shane's cheeks, wiping off the tears. "I promise to come back."
Shane hiccups. "Yes?"
"Yes. Look—"
Ilya gathers a few grass sticks and weaves them together into two small rings. He puts the first one Shane's finger and tightens the loop to make sure it won't fall off. He does the same with the second grass ring that goes onto his own finger.
"See? Now we're properly tied together and we'll get married one day and we'll be together and I'll protect you."
"Forever ever?"
"Forever ever." Ilya smiles, opening his arms. "Come here."
Shane willingly goes into the embrace, wondering why Ilya's hug feels safer than the ones from his parents or nanny.
"Now you're mine."
They start seeing each other more frequently and become inseparable.
Ilya is here when Shane gets is first horse, black as the sky after midnight, and he helps him break the animal in. The horse receives a name Spark due to his fiery temperament, but he seems to stay calm with Shane, and becomes fond of Ilya, too.
Ilya is here when autumn festival comes again and they visit the family shrine in the hills to make their prayers. Ilya seems lost at first, but each year he becomes more and more comfortable.
Ilya is here when Shane celebrates his birthday, too, and they play together in the gardens. Shane even scrapes his knees after a nasty fall, and Ilya soothes him, his hands and eyes warm.
"Do you think we'll be mates?" Shane then asks with full innocence and belief and wonder—but Ilya's answer isn't warm. If anything, the other prince seems to hunch, making himself smaller.
"I don't know. My father—I don't think he'd like that. He wants me to find a pretty omega princess and marry her."
"Oh."
Shane is starting to understand the intricacies of politics and its tight binds that never allow for a change of a course set by others.
Still—this is Ilya. Ilya who promised to stay together. The possibility of not being mates with him makes something grow cold in Shane's body. He doesn't like the idea of it.
"Shh, solnyshko. I am here. I am not going anywhere."
Ilya immediately notices something is wrong and wraps Shane in a hug; his senses are already sharp, and Shane knows Ilya will become a strong Alpha one day.
But he might not be Shane's.
He might go away.
"You will find your own princess one day."
Ilya's words worsen the situation, making Shane shake. Ilya resorts to his ultimate weapon—pulling Shane onto his lap, making their bodies touch as much as possible, and he sneaks a hand into Shane's clothes to touch his bare skin and move his hand up and down Shane's back.
That, combined with soft purring and words in a language Shane can't grasp yet, make him go slack.
For now, Shane has Ilya at his beck and call.
Prince Ilya always comes accompanied by his father, but once he's away from the king's careful watch, he becomes more carefree and accompanies Shane on his adventures. When it's Shane's turn to visit, however, he remains moody and stiff, clearly tied down by the etiquette and expectations too heavy for a kid to bear.
"Is your dad okay?" Shane asks on one of such visits after a feast. Ilya's father was absent, excusing himself with a sudden illness. It's starting to become an occurrence now.
"He's fine."
Ilya tries to appear unbothered, but even at twelve, Shane can see the cracks in his armour. He puts his hand on Ilya's arm, hoping to provide some comfort.
The ghosts haunting the halls of Rozanovia make the castle almost unbearable, though the feast provides tasty food and even better music. Shane can't really enjoy any of this, not when Ilya looks like a beaten puppy. He trails behind him whenever possible—whenever etiquette allows for it and they are away from the king's eyes—and even manages to sneak into Ilya's room at night.
"What are you doing here?" Ilya hisses, opening the window for him. "Did anyone see you?"
"No. I used the balcony."
Ilya pokes his side, his caution completely disappearing and turning into something else—something that smells of anger and maybe protectiveness?
"That's dangerous."
"I'm fine."
"The hell you are. You're reckless."
"I told you I'm fine. I just wanted to see you."
"Shane."
Shane does his best impression of a pout towards Ilya, feeling the need to ease his anger, and it seems to work. Ilya rolls his eyes before bringing Shane close, to wrap him—finally—in a hug. It's fierce, protective, tight, the kind of a hug Shane has been waiting for ever since arriving in Rozanovia. His whole body relaxes.
They spend the whole night together in Ilya's bed, holding tight onto each other, and for a while Shane feels like the world is back to normal.
Shane buzzes with anticipation for his fifteenth birthday. His parents were insisting on throwing him a big party and hosting the kingdom's finest members of society—as he suspects, not just to celebrate, but also help him find a potential mate, a beautiful princess, potentially with Alpha blood.
Shane still can't wait, because his birthday means that he'll see Ilya. And something in him hopes to discover Ilya as his fated mate.
He stays awake till midnight, anticipation churning in his stomach. He's read plenty of books about his gender—he knows what to expect. Just before the clock strikes midnight, he gets up from the bed and frowns at the sheets. They seem wrong, completely wrong, so he goes to rearrange them and add a blanket he sometimes shares with Ilya. The new arrangement is much better, but he's not completely satisfied.
He turns to the wardrobe to search for things stored inside, and he fishes out a spare shirt Ilya left a few months ago. It still smells of him, so Shane takes it to the bed and tucks around the pillows.
Now the nest is complete. He crawls inside and curls in it, feeling heat spread through his body as his wolf settles. It's a painful process, with fire licking every bone and cell in his body, and once it settles, Shane is left panting. His head is clear, though, the clearest it's been in months—and he finds his wolf for the first time and changes.
It's an entirely different feeling than being a human—his sense of smell is much stronger, same with sight, but his legs feel wobbly like a newborn fawn. He doesn't feel brave enough to walk out of the bed just now, so he curls inside the protective circle of sheets and falls asleep, completely exhausted.
When he wakes up, it's in human body. He can still feel some ache in his bones, but also excitement even as the knowledge to have presented as an Omega settles in his mind.
He's always known, in a way. He's always known that he's much weaker and much more vulnerable than someone like Ilya—who'll surely become an Alpha. So, no, turning an Omega isn't a shock to his system—on the contrary, it feels like destiny finally snapping into place.
And he's excited to show his wolf to Ilya.
He dresses in a red kimono, embroidered with white cranes, the crown's emblem, and he almost doesn't recognise himself in the mirror. With a faint blush on his cheeks and shining eyes, he looks almost like an adult—like a proper prince, not some scrawny boy who could barely hold the weight of the crown.
"Happy birthday, Prince Shane!"
He enjoys the luxurious presents from people he knows and people he doesn't, he tries his birthday cake (chocolate and mint, his favourite), he smiles politely at anyone who comes to wish him a happy birthday and congratulate on presenting. He catches a few snarky comments, but nobody would dare to challenge him openly—not when he's the crown prince and has the whole crown standing behind his back.
In the evening they go to the shrine in the mountains to bow before the gods. Shane says his prayers and thanks for his new life, and he gets to make a wish as he lights the candles in front of the stone goddess. She keeps staring at him, her eyes cold and unyielding; he tries not to relent.
Please, give me Ilya, he prays quietly. That's all I want.
The candles are lit, and they return to the castle, but there's still no Ilya.
"I don't think he's coming, honey," his mum says, carding her hand through Shane's hair. He immediately pulls away, scowling. His mood gradually worsens, turning into full-blown moping when the last guests simmer out of the castle and it becomes clear that his mother is right.
Ilya isn't coming.
Darling,
I'm sorry I couldn't celebrate your birthday with you. State affairs unfortunately didn't allow me to leave the capital, and I regret being unable to accompany you on such an important day.
Darling, know that I thought of you every second of the day and wished to be with you instead of this god-forsaken office.
You're fifteen now, huh? Just a few months older than me.
And I hear you're an Omega now. I knew you would be—the prettiest Omega with the prettiest freckles and the prettiest smile. I know you're the prettiest wolf, too. Will you show me when we see each other again?
I've attached your birthday present to this letter. I know it won't make up for my absence, but I hope it suffices till our next meeting.
See you soon!
Yours,
Ilya
The birthday gift turns out to be a black bear fur that somehow still smells of Ilya—and Shane brings it to his nose, clutching tightly onto the gift and feeling hot tears rushing down his cheeks.
He misses Ilya—he misses him so much that his heart is about to break. His wolf is unhappy with every single princess and noble presented to him thus far; it seems to have set its mind on Ilya and Ilya only, but Ilya is out of reach.
It becomes painfully obvious as their contact becomes more and more sporadic. Shane still sends Ilya frequent updates about his life in the castle and his trainings and his mostly boring life, but he's lucky if he gets a letter back once a month.
He knows Ilya is busy learning how to rule. He knows Ilya's father is strict and incredibly hard and harsh on his son; he demands the highest dedication from his already dedicated son—he would take his soul, if he could.
And of course in the middle of all that Ilya presents as an Alpha, a surprise to nobody. He holds a big ball in the capital and Shane is invited, but he doesn't go, feeling petty since his last letter to Ilya went unanswered for the past six months.
Over the years, he keeps hearing all kind of gossip that makes his blood boil—Prince Ilya courting Omega girls, one after one. He never sees the same girl twice, but Shane hears the whispers and he understands that Ilya is searching for his mate, for his queen.
He shoves the letters and all Ilya-related thoughts out of sight, and tries to focus on his own kingdom. His parents go easy on him, though of course he's still forced to get proper education and learn plenty of useless things. He understands their weight and takes it seriously, though—he knows he'll rule the country one day, and he has to be ready for it. In fact, he dedicates himself to it wholeheartedly.
It will be unprecedented: an Omega king. It hasn't happened in centuries—Shane checked the registers. He's supposed to have an Alpha queen accompanying him and helping him rule in harmony, but he considers all of that a shitload of bullshit. He thinks he deserves respect based on his rules, not gender.
He allows himself to think of Ilya only on the rarest occasions when someone mentions his name. The relations between their countries remain friendly, but Shane pointedly avoids dealing with any of the common matters.
Why would he even be trying if Ilya doesn't want to see or hear from him anymore?
And then one day he's struck by the news of Ilya's father's death. Ilya is merely twenty—and he's getting crowned as the king of Rozanovia.
Ilya ascending the throne isn't Ilya Shane knows.
He looks regal sitting with a crown in his blonde hair—and at the same time so foreign, so far away as if they were separated by galaxies, not the length of the red carpet. What remains the same is his smell.
Shane hasn't seen him in years, yet the same instant he's hit with a wave of longing so strong that his legs almost give out. It might be all caused by the sight of Ilya after so many years of not seeing each other, and Ilya's smell, dangerously close to home.
Shane pointedly glares at the floor, trying to calm his racing heart. He doesn't succeed much since Ilya's smell and his presence are everything he's attuned to—and it's impossible to escape it even in the crowd of people.
As soon as the ceremony ends, he sneaks out, unable to hold himself up for much longer. He ignores his parents' worried looks and wanders off the familiar corridors. He feels like he can breathe again once he's out of the main hall—the pressure eases as his legs move further and further away.
He stops in front of an unfamiliar door, and something in him tells him to get in, to hide there, so he does precisely that, slipping into a small but very cosy room. To his surprise, it's styled according with his customs, with a small family altar and a small zen garden surrounding it, the stones perfectly white and oval.
As he comes closer to the altar, he spots traditional offerings and candles on it, with the stone statue of the wolf goddess and a painting of a woman with long blonde hair and a pretty smile. He picks it up, realising he recognises the features—he's sure she's Ilya's mother. His father's picture is missing.
Holy shit.
He didn't know this place existed, let alone that the Prince's family allowed for any customs other than Rozanovian. But—this had Ilya's signature all over, so it must have been his own idea, his own sanctuary to set up.
Shane ends up kneeling on the floor. The aura of the room is incredibly calm, putting all of his senses at peace; he finds his limbs relaxing and thoughts clearing.
He enjoys his peace for a short time only—the door creaks and Shane doesn't need to turn to know who's hunted him down. He really doesn't want to look, either, so he closes his eyes, forcing his body to remain calm and still, not reacting to the presence of the person he's been yearning for years.
Fuck the Prince and fuck his own desires. It should be illegal.
"Are you alright?" the Prince—no, he's the King now—asks, settling next to Shane, and Shane is once more enveloped in his smell and warmth, making his breath hitch as he swears wordlessly.
"Yes. Go away."
It's probably rude to tell the King to leave in his own castle, but all Shane gets is a warm chuckle. He hates it. He hates his own reaction it. He hates the King.
The King offers him space. He says nothing, just sitting next to Shane and apparently getting comfortable with the silence between them. It stretches and stings till Shane capitulates, opening his eyes to look at him and blurt out, "Why did you build this room?"
The King also turns his head to look directly into Shane's eyes; he seems at peace without the crown, and it's like he was now much more relaxed. That, in turn, makes Shane's own tension alleviate.
"I wanted to honour my mum, and building a shrine for her seemed appropriate."
Shane nods, because that answer in a way makes sense even if the clash of their cultures is wild.
"Congratulations," he says then, no sarcasm or bite in his voice. "For getting the crown."
If anything, he sounds tired, as if with these words came a realization that all of his childhood dreams were shattered for good.
"You know I never wanted it."
"But you knew it was inescapable. Like it is for me."
"Yes," the King agrees quietly. "There is one upside to it, though. One I didn't expect to find."
"What is it?"
"More freedom."
That's surprising.
"How so?"
"My father isn't there anymore to tell me what to do."
Ah. Shane understands now.
"What is your plan, then?" he dares to ask, but not to hope. He keeps his body wound tight—around the King, he has to be on guard now.
"Eh, it's extensive. I'm planning a lot of reforms, changing a lot of legalities, fixing what my father broke. It will take years."
"Wow. That's—ambitious. I mean—congratulations. I know you can do it. Who else but you?"
"Thank you," the King says softly. "It means a lot, coming from you."
All Shane can do is curtly even though he doesn't fully believe those words. His whole body locks, and he can't move or breathe another word, and his mind goes blank.
How does one survive Hurricane Ilya?
"Shane—can we talk?"
"I don't know what you want from me."
"I—" Ilya starts and then purses his lips. Shane has never seen him this unsure—not Ilya, not this confident Alpha King, protective and charismatic. "I know I have no right to ask you for anything. I also know it's been years and we haven't talked and it's my fault. I have a good excuse, but I know it doesn't make it hurt any less."
"What excuse do you have?"
"My father told me he'd kill you if we saw each other ever again." The King swallows hard. "That was around your fifteenth birthday—that's why I couldn't come though I really wanted to. I could send you a few letters and sneak them with the diplomatic corpus or the merchants, but that's all. I couldn't put you in danger."
"That doesn't make it any better." Shane closes his eyes again. "I really wanted to see you then, on my birthday. I wanted to show you my wolf."
"I know."
"You made a promise when we saw each other for the first time and I know it was just a childish thing, but I still really hoped you'd keep it."
"I know."
"I was demanding the impossible, I know. I've always known you'll become a King one day and find someone better than me. A perfect mate."
"Shane."
"Tell me I'm wrong," Shane says sharply, glaring at the King with all of his strength now. "Tell me that wasn't your plan."
"Only because of my father. And he failed anyway, because none of the girls he made me meet weren't fated to me. And now that he doesn't make the rules anymore and I do, I can finally reach for what I wanted all this time."
"What did you want?"
"You," the King says earnestly, turning towards Shane, his body open and unguarded, and Shane hates how easy he looks. "I always wanted you and only you."
Shane whispers back, "That's not fair. You can't return more than five years later and claim you always had affection for me after you ignored me."
"I know. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just—I guess I'm just hoping for you to let me back into your life and earn your forgiveness. You might not grant it regardless—that's fair. But I still want to prove myself to you, at least. I want you to know that I will stand by you, no matter what."
"You will have to try harder than that."
"I know. I will." Then Ilya pauses and very carefully asks, "Would you show me your wolf?"
Shane knows he can say no, but he's also been waiting for this specific moment for five long years—even if he's still kind of angry at Ilya and unsure if they can go back on good terms.
He ends up nodding, and Ilya immediately brightens, pulling away to make more space for Shane's transformation into his wolf. Shane carefully unties the first layer of his clothes and folds it neatly, not wanting to destroy it all in the process. He pointedly avoids Ilya's gaze, though he can still feel his eyes on his skin, and focuses hard, willing for his wolf to come forward.
Then, in a split of a second, he falls onto four paws and sits down, glaring at Ilya.
All Ilya offers him is tenderness and awe, his eyes tracking every detail of Shane's fur.
"You're beautiful," he says earnestly, extending his hand but not quite touching. "Can I?"
Very carefully, Shane nears him—close enough for Ilya to touch his head and pet his fur. He's very gentle with it, putting some pressure only when Shane pushes his head further into Ilya's hand, wanting more scratches. It feels nice. Nobody has ever touched his wolf like this before.
"You like that?"
Shane absolutely blames his wolf form for crawling into Ilya's lap. He's small, he knows, smaller than most wolves in his pack, but quite average for an omega. He probably resembles a cub more than a real wolf, but in Ilya's hands it doesn't seem to matter.
It feels safe.
Just like before.
"Honey, we think it's time for you to get married."
Shane scowls at his parents from above his salmon. The dinner has been nice so far, at least till they decided to touch the subject Shane hates with burning passion.
"I haven't found my mate yet."
"That's why you should start meeting nice girls, see if you like any of them, if you could become mates with any of them—"
"I don't want to get married."
"It's time for you to, honey. You're going to become a king one day, and you need a strong leader next to you."
"Are you pushing this because I'm an omega?" he asks angrily. "If I wanted to rule alone and never get married—would you ever accept it?"
"Honey, you have royal blood in you. It would look good if you at least got engaged, if we could forge a political alliance—there are a few families who have reached out to ask—"
"So it is because I'm an omega." He angrily tosses the tissue onto the table, getting up. "You haven't even asked for what I want."
"You should at least have a look at the prospects!"
"I don't want to."
He ends up looking at the prospects, because his mother is nothing but persistent. They are girls only—all from noble families, some with royal blood watered down through generations. Some are pretty, Shane can admit as much, but they make his stomach turn sour at the thought of forging a bond with them.
So instead of meeting any of them, he packs his most essential things, announces to his parents that he's leaving for Rozanovia and will return in a few weeks, and sets off on a horse with a few guards.
He didn't announce his visit to anyone, entering the castle incognito, but the guards still recognise him and let him in, no questions asked, and it feels so surreal, making him wonder whether the King of Rozanovia himself ordered everyone to keep an eye out for him and let him in immediately.
And Ilya himself appears by the main entrance as soon as Shane jumps off the horse, dirty and tired after his journey, and he doesn't even look surprised. Shane can't help but think that maybe his own parents have tipped Ilya off.
The King looks him up and down, as if looking for any injuries, and when he finds none, he nods at Shane.
"Come. You need proper food and rest."
And hell, Shane listens, because it's an immense relief to just sink into Ilya and his castle and allow himself to be pampered. That's partially why he set off for Rozanovia, if he's honest—he just wanted to see Ilya, to soothe the bitterness in his heart.
To his surprise, Shane isn't led towards the great dining hall, but instead installed in Ilya's private chambers, by his own private dining table. He gets to eat his favourite Rozanovian dishes, and he takes full advantage of that; the trip made him really hungry.
Ilya doesn't eat. He just rests his chin on his clasped hands and watches Shane with sharpness Shane particularly dislikes.
Ilya could always read him well, even when they were children, but it seems like he's now determined to strip every layer of Shane's soul and understand his every thought.
"So. What's the reason behind your visit?" he finally asks, making Shane sputter on his chicken wing. It's been baked with plum, the skin nicely browned and spiced, just the way Shane likes. "Not that I'm unhappy with it. On the contrary."
Shane hesitates, then settles on, "My parents want me to marry," as if it was the whole explanation behind his impromptu trip to Rozanovia.
It comes out like a prayer, a plea—for what, Shane himself doesn't know, but he hopes Ilya might.
"And you don't want to get married."
"No. They are trying to matchmake me with noble girls of Alpha blood and my blood is crawling every time they introduce a new one." Shane swallows another bite, scowling at his plate. "I don't like any of them."
"Was there ever any girl you liked?"
"No."
"Not even omega? Or beta?"
"No."
Ilya hums, keeping quiet for a long while and allowing Shane to digest his food and thoughts.
The truth is, Shane has an inkling why he dislikes all these girls his parents were trying to diligently make him pick, but saying it out loud is scary.
That's the second reason he came to Rozanovia, probably—saying it to Ilya first seems much less scary than actually dealing with the problem on his own.
"I think I actually prefer boys."
"Okay."
Ilya doesn't seem surprised or disgusted, and that in turn surprises Shane.
"You—okay?"
"Yes, Shane. Okay. I really don't care whether you prefer boys or girls or both."
Shane exhales loudly as his shoulders drop. He did not need Ilya's approval, thank you very much, but—it just confirms that his instinct to come straight here was correct.
"Okay," he reaffirms, putting away the cutlery and turning fully towards Ilya. "That doesn't solve the problem, though. My parents don't know, and don't think they'd approve. It's problematic enough that I'm an omega inheriting the throne. Me liking men doesn't make the situation any less better."
"You won't need anyone's permission once you're the king."
"Everyone expects me to adhere to certain standards—"
"Fuck standards."
Shane snorts, because that's such an Alpha answer—one he could barely afford.
"Tell that to my parents."
"They are just worried about you."
Shane is back to sulking. "They wrote you, didn't they? The prodigal son escapes the castle after rejecting beautiful princesses, or so the story goes, please return him to us as soon as possible."
"No. They just asked me to take care of you and talk to you about it if I can." Ilya shrugs. "You can stay here as long as you want. You have free will, Shane."
"Can I?"
"Of course. Your room never went away. There's always a place for you here, should you want it."
"You really don't have to—"
"I want to. Eat."
Something in Shane purrs.
"You know, you don't touch me anymore."
Ilya snaps back his head from where it's been resting against the couch and stares at Shane, his pupils dilating with shock and just like that, he's alert, all sense of languidness leaving his body.
He's been spending all the time he could with Shane, lounging together on the couch as Shane reads his books. He doesn't even mind Shane occupying his chambers, whether he's there or not, and when he returns from the countless meetings and state affairs, he's always tired but happy to occupy the space next to Shane.
"What?"
Shane feels his cheeks burning, but he can't really go back now. That question has been bouncing around his mind for days, if not weeks, anyway; it's something he noticed in the course of the time spent with Ilya, that he's always close, but never touching, not the way he used to do when they were kid.
And Shane actually misses it.
"We used to touch all the time when we were kids," he says timidly. "We hugged. We held hands. We were always touching in some way. And now you don't touch me at all."
"Would you like me to?" Ilya asks carefully, his body tensing as he leans forward, maybe trying to stop himself from reaching out.
Shane nods, because that's all his brain allows him to do, and he sees Ilya momentarily relax. He still seems surprised, maybe full of disbelief, but there's also a smile appearing on his lips, a smile Shane has dearly missed.
Then Ilya opens his arms and says, "Come here."
Then Shane doesn't hesitate—he abandons the book and crawls right into Ilya's arms, lying his head on Ilya's chest. Something in him immediately settles, making his whole body go slack, especially when Ilya's arms wrap around him completely, settling him in a cocoon of warmth, of home he's been missing for years.
"Okay?" Ilya still asks; Shane nods, not raising his head from where it's nuzzling at Ilya's chest. He's comfortable.
"Thank you," he whispers.
After that, something changes. It's subtle at first—the distance gradually shrinking. At first it's just random brushes throughout the day that become more daring as Ilya sees no pushback on Shane's side.
Then he's graced with Ilya's touch lingering for a longer while—a hand on his arm or scratching his head or even neck (that part makes him particularly feral for more), random hugs throughout the day, Ilya sitting so close that the distance between them becomes microscopic.
And Shane enjoys every single of those interactions, going as far as carving a space for himself beneath Ilya and also returning the favour of touch. He can't stop himself now that he knows Ilya wants it, too; it's like they've been gravitating towards each other ever since reuniting and it's inescapable now.
Fuck, it's a fantastic feeling to get Ilya's hugs again. They've somehow grown even better—or maybe that's the years of the distance speaking. It's a fact, though, that Ilya still gives the best hugs and Shane just loves them. He wishes they could stay like this forever, because they make him feel protected and safe and at peace—regardless of the implications and propriety of it.
"Aren't you looking for your mate?" he can't help but ask since the seeds of doubt are far too insistent to be squashed. "I know you aren't forced to find your match anymore, but don't you want to?"
"I'm happy with where I am now."
Shane stares at him, but Ilya seems earnest, a bit tired, too, and his hands keep massaging Shane's legs in his lap. He still feels a prickle of something he doesn't want to examine more closely.
He decides to let go of this subject, especially since he doesn't want to get answers he doesn't want to hear; for now, he just tries to keep enjoying Ilya's presence, knowing he'll have to go back to his own kingdom soon. The thought alone makes him sulk.
"We'll see each other soon again," Ilya promises, trying to wipe the frown off Shane's face with his hand, and it makes Shane scowl harder till Ilya brings him close and kisses his nose and hair, his affection slightly making Shane's mood better.
"How soon?"
"I'll try to come to the Lantern Festival. Okay?"
Shane calculates—the Festival is in four weeks. That means roughly three weeks without Ilya.
If he keeps his promise, that's it.
"You promised to come for my fifteenth birthday, too."
"Fuck," Ilya groans. "That's unfair."
"It was unfair."
"Okay, how about this: if I don't come to you, you can go back here and kick my ass. How does that sound?"
Shane keeps scowling, still petulant, but he has to admit there's some appeal in kicking Ilya's ass for his wrong-doings.
"I might consider it."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
Shane settles. Only slightly.
Ilya sends him off with a hug and the promise to see him soon, repeated once and once again. Shane really wants to believe him, so he returns to his own castle feeling a bit braver. Even facing his parents isn't as bad as he imagined.
"I don't want a princess," he says. "I don't like girls."
"Okay," his mother says, only slightly surprised—probably more by his audacity to say it out right rather than the statement itself. Shane wonders if Ilya wrote letters to his parents to let them know about the situation, but then dismisses the thought—Ilya just wouldn't out him like this.
"So I won't get married to any of the prospects."
"Okay," Queen Yuna says again, gathering herself. "Then we can find you a nice man. An Alpha, if you want."
"Mum—"
"There's an old custom," his dad speaks for the first time, "that includes a proper tournament for the suitors to battle for the heir's hand. It's suitable for Alphas to show off their skills. We could organise one instead of a ball. What do you think?"
Shane blinks.
He doesn't immediately reject the idea, his omega preening at the idea of having various Alphas proving themselves to him, but—he's not keen on searching for a husband, either.
"Can I think about it?" he replies, trying not to wince too much.
"Okay."
And think hard he does—in fact, he closes off in his room, studying the idea of a tournament and wondering if it's actually worth following through.
Maybe, if all nearby Alphas attend—
No, Shane doubts Ilya would even be interested in such trivialities, so better not to hyper-fixate on it. He isn't interested in other Alphas, anyway—but maybe if there was another way of figuring it out, another way of showing that he doesn't actually need neither a husband nor a wife, and—
Oh. Maybe there is a solution—maybe he could also participate in the tournament under a disguise, show off and win the thing. His parents would have no remaining arguments then and he could remain happily single till maybe Ilya agrees to become mates, which, to be fair, might only happen in another universe.
Not a bad idea—not a bad one at all.
By the time the Lantern Festival approaches, Shane really tries to keep his expectations down. He keeps himself busy with the festival and tournament preparations, though his thoughts keep wandering off towards Ilya anyway, regardless of what he does.
Still, he can't hope for Ilya to keep his promise. The last time his absence broke something in Shane, and he doesn't want a repeat.
He gets one letter from Ilya in the meantime, and it's a bit reassuring, telling him that Ilya does remember about him and maybe slightly increasing his chances of attending the festival, at least, because the tournament is another story.
He's asked to stay in charge of arranging tournament tasks, and his parents happily agreed, probably expecting him to stay compliant to the idea. He doesn't, not really.
He feels a bit mischievous about it, but there's also an undercurrent of satisfaction—because none of the Alphas will be able to win the tournament even without Shane's participation. What he plans to do, however, is not just snag the first place for himself, but also to sabotage other participants a bit—this way, the tournament is going to happen exactly the way he wants it to. He most certainly doesn't want to marry any of the Alphas who have already confirmed attendance in the tournament.
And then the first day of the Lantern Festival, Ilya arrives.
He enters the city through he main gate, surrounded by the Rozanovian delegation, soldiers in polished armours and heads held high. They are welcomed with curiosity and some cheering, and Shane can't look away from the whole parade till it stops in front of the steps to the castle. Then, Ilya jumps off his horse and steps forwards, up to the place where Shane's parents are already waiting to give him welcome.
He looks really good in his royal regalia, Shane thinks, clocking in the crown on Ilya's head, the rich fur falling down his arms, and the decorative armour he chose to wear today. His Alpha aura is noticeable, though held on a tight leash—enough not to suffocate but also clearly marked.
"Welcome back," Shane's father says as he and Ilya exchange arm squeezes.
The queen echoes the sentiment, but she even dares to pull Ilya into a hug, which surprises everyone around—it's a clear breach of etiquette, but fuck, who can break it if not the queen herself? And honestly, Shane feels fondness grow in himself at the scene, because his parents have always accepted Ilya as a part of the palace, a part of their family, especially when he and Shane became joined at the hip. He also knows that Ilya is still keeping in touch with them quite often, and no wonder since they have the ruling experience he's lacking.
And Shane can't help but admire him, too. He really looks royal, more than Shane himself, and he seems to fit right in.
But then Ilya spots him—he couldn't hide even in the shadows of the soldiers surrounding the entrance—and his eyes soften as he takes Shane in. Then he doesn't hesitate to climb the stairs even further and stand in front of Shane who exhales deeply the familiar smell of home.
"Welcome to Hollanderia, King Ilya," Shane says cheekily, not without a huge smile appearing on his face. He's sticking to the protocol, but he knows the rules will be thrown out the window the second Ilya touches him.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Shane," Ilya replies, mirth dancing in his eyes as he stands impossibly close.
Then he does something Shane hasn't expected—he cradles Shane's face and nuzzles their noses together, the way mates would do, and it makes Shane's brain go completely blank. He enjoys the display, of course, he takes in all signs of affection Ilya gives him, but this—this is a declaration, a claiming, maybe also a question as Ilya leans away, a bit hesitant.
"Okay?" he asks, his eyes searching, and Shane is finally kicked into action as he launches himself at Ilya to hug him, very much ignoring the royal protocol and the audience they still have. He really doesn't care, and neither does Ilya, since his arms wrap around Shane, pulling their bodies close, and Shane feels his whole body relax.
"I missed you."
"I missed you too." Ilya allows him to stay close, though Shane is growing uncomfortable due to the armour Ilya is wearing—it's cold, and he needs more skin on skin contact rather than this. "We should go inside. Are you hungry?"
Even as they end up in the private dining hall, Ilya and Shane stay close, hands lingering and then touching more and more boldly. Ilya practically salivates at the sight of rice rolls and his favourite soup, and he manoeuvres the chopsticks with such precision that he looks like he was born to do it.
The conversation also flows easily, though Shane is mostly quiet, trying to be discreet about the way he's inching closer towards Ilya and listening to Ilya and his parents discussing the recent trade problems. It's not that he's uninterested in that—they are important kingdom affairs—but it's Ilya, Ilya is finally here, Ilya kept his promise, and Shane wants to be wrapped in his arms again, thank you very much.
He's still forced to get some food, though, and Ilya himself is persistent to put more and more on Shane's plate. Shane pretends to hate it.
Then Ilya decides to retire and Shane follows him like a lost puppy—he's not in the wrong since Ilya immediately searches for his hand and pulls him forward, to stay by his side. Ilya does know the castle well, having stayed there multiple times in the past. Still, he had a different wing than Shane even if they oftentimes ended in the same bed, and they had to cover some distance every night.
But now—
"Your wing?" the King asks, assessing.
"I thought you wanted to get some rest?"
"Your bed is comfortable and we need to talk."
Shane doesn't like the idea of talking, but the bed does sound good, so they end up in Shane's chambers. They are wildly different from Ilya's, much more airy and with multiple bonsai trees—Shane really likes the bonsai—and the bed is big enough for them both, so they settle in it, with Shane resting against Ilya's chest and fully wrapped in the embrace.
He can feel Ilya's heartbeat under his cheek and the sensation alone is enough to lull him into sleep, especially when it's combined with the hand moving against his nape.
Still, Ilya wants to talk.
"I wanted to ask you something."
"What?"
"Look at me." Ilya tugs till Shane manages to raise his head, meeting Ilya's eyes. What he finds on Ilya's face is surprising—the King of the whole Rozanovia looks uncharacteristically nervous. "If I participated in the tournament—would you consider me as the potential Alpha partner?"
"You want to be mates?"
It escapes Shane before his rational brain catches up—in all honesty, it's making his brain go blank again.
"Yes. I want to pursue you. Is that—" Ilya licks his lips. "Is that okay? Can I…? Will you…?"
"Yes." Shane watches, transfixed, as the King's face comes alight with a smile. "But only if you win the tournament."
The smile doesn't disappear—it only turns into a grin, something feral.
Typical, Shane thinks, Alphas like challenges, and Ilya isn't any different.
The magnitude of the whole situation doesn't fully register till a few heartbeats later—and Shane's own heart stutters. He leans away from Ilya, half-sitting on top of him.
"Wait. You're serious? You really want to—be mates? And the tournament—? Ilya, are you—you're serious?"
"Yes. As long as you'd have me."
Ilya runs his hands up and down Shane's arms; it feels grounding, but Shane still searches Ilya's arms for any signs of lies. He finds none, of course—Ilya really is serious about this.
"You don't have to make a decision right now," he adds, probably seeing Shane's scattered brain and the beginnings of panic. "I want to win the tournament fair and square. To court you. The decision still will be yours after that. I'm just glad to know that you'd give me a chance."
"I'm shocked you're considering me."
"Why?"
Ilya's eyes are searching, as if he genuinely had no idea why Shane is having any doubts.
"I'm an omega. A gay omega. I'm not a beautiful blonde princess you are looking for. I'm not even your type." He pauses. "We have been friends for years, I know, well, not counting in those five years after my birthday—but we never—I mean—"
"Remember the rings we made as kids when we saw each other for the first time?"
Shane nods, not trusting his words.
"I haven't changed my mind since then."
Then he goes for the final blow.
"Let me prove myself to you."
Fuck, how can Shane say no?
"Okay."
Shane has always enjoyed the Lantern Festival, but there's something special in participating in it together with Ilya. Even though he's not used to it, he looks absolutely flawless in a deep green yukata and participates in the celebrations as if he's been born here.
Shane enjoys watching him—always has, but this time it's much more intense, run with a thrill when he knows that they have a real chance at becoming something more. It means that he needn't hide his crush, needn't hide from the little touches as they light up the lanterns to set them on the water, needn't hide from affection.
They end the day with a visit in the shrine of the wolf goddess, just to say thanks, and it feels natural. Just for a moment, Shane is transported back to the same moment on his fifteenth birthday, when he did all of this alone—and now he has Ilya with him, just the way he asked for all these years ago.
"Thank you," he says to Ilya, not specifying what he means, but Ilya seems to understand and he just smiles warmly.
Shane has to reconsider the idea of his own participation in the tournament.
It's supposed to start in four days, with the Alphas scheduled to arrive the day before, but he still hesitates. The thing is that he knows that Ilya would win the tournament, even with the tasks bordering on impossibility, but he still wants to prove himself, too. He wants to show that he's not a frail omega in a need of a rescue, of an Alpha.
He's only reconsidering it because now there's actually someone he'd like to win his heart, for once.
In his indecision, he still gathers his gear—light, impersonal clothes, a mask that will hide his face, a scent-masking potion.
Then he concludes that regardless of what decision he makes, the tournament should turn out well for him.
His decision is made the second he sees the Alphas arriving to the palace. They come from noble families—not just from Hollanderia, but nearby countries, too, and their energy combines makes Shane feel suffocated instead of safe. They are all vying for his attention, of course, which makes their auras the stronger, the more they puff their chests.
Shane finds none of this appealing, and instead it quickly becomes overstimulating.
So, instead of attending dinner with all of them and listening to them peacocking, he sneaks out of the castle and turns into his wolf.
It feels great to stretch all four of his legs and feel the grass under his paws. The air in the forest is much cleaner, too, filling his lungs with freshness instead of the oppressive smell of too many hormones.
Before long, he notices he's not alone—but it's not alarming. Even though he doesn't recognise the wolf, the smell is very much familiar, and the fur is just the right shade of Ilya's hair.
He yips, happily brushing his snout against Ilya's. His wolf is much smaller than the Alpha, which is typical; he knows Ilya could easily pin him down if he wanted, but he still goes to bait him and starts running away with a happy snarl. He knows Ilya would follow and he isn't even trying hard to outchase him—he just trots close behind, giving him enough space but staying nearby.
They make it to Shane's favourite place in the whole forest—a small lake with crystal-clear waters where the moon sparkles like diamonds on the surface. He comes here often, having discovered the place a few years ago.
They both rest there in their wolf forms, enjoying the sounds of the forest and the night and the quiet company.
Ilya is unlike all other Alphas who are currently flooding the castle; he's the only person Shane feels at ease with, even though he's an Alpha.
"They are not going to win," Ilya promises as they return to the castle a few hours later and sneak in through the side entrance, the guards averting their gazes as Ilya just glares at them. "The Alphas."
"I know."
Shane really has no doubts; he just wants the tournament to be over and the Alphas to leave the castle as soon as possible. He won't feel comfortable otherwise.
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" he ends up asking.
"Of course."
Yes. That's exactly where he wants to be, he thinks as he falls asleep sprawled over Ilya's body.
"The first category is shooting," Shane announces to the row of Alphas gathered in the main square by the palace. "Your goal are the moving boards. The more of them you hit and the closer to their center, the more points you get. The one with the most points wins the category."
He spies Ilya standing a bit to the side, arms crossed and a small smile appearing on his lips as he glances right back at Shane. Shane realises he'll need to avoid him at all costs during the tournament to avoid detection. Hopefully nobody will pay any attention to him if he makes himself small and untraceable—Alphas tend to skip people who aren't threatening.
He lasts three series out of five and sneaks out just when the fourth one starts since he's assigned himself to the last one, hoping that nobody will be paying too much attention at that point. He only watched Ilya shooting—he was unsure how the King will handle the bow since he's always been a better sword master than a shooter, but Ilya does really well—smashing four boards in the center and the fifth one just two inches out.
Shane, however, fixes Ilya's score—he gets all of the boards right in the center, getting maximum points, and vanishes away from the plaza as soon as his turn is over. He returns to the balcony only for his mother to inform him,
"One of the contestants scored twenty five points! You just missed it!"
Shane nods noncommittally, though he really wants to smirk. His satisfaction dies a little, though, when he notices Ilya starting right at him—he's assessing, calculating, and Shane dislikes the glint in Ilya's eyes.
He's right to be vary, because during the second category, which is finding pieces of fabric scattered around his beloved forest, Ilya sticks close. Shane sweats even in his masking gear, but Ilya doesn't interrogate him—he just stays quietly nearby.
Shane focuses on finding the pieces of fabric—it's no big deal, really, since he knows the forest like the back of his hand. It's unfair to other Alphas, but he doesn't care, either. He wasn't going to allow them to win anyway.
By the fourth piece, Shane hears some growling in the distance. He assesses the Alphas might be fighting for one of the targets he's placed nearby—it's one of the most noticeable ones, so he's not surprised that someone stumbled upon it.
Whoever wins, starts heading in Shane's direction next, and Shane decides to move north to the next point on the map. Dirty work isn't forbidden from the tournament, so there's a slim possibility someone might try to take his spoils—that's precisely what he has the bow for, and he isn't afraid to shoot anyone who comes too close.
But then he hears another bout of growling and then the Alpha with an unfamiliar smells leaves. What stays, however, is Ilya's smell, lingering close but not close enough to make Shane uncomfortable.
It looks like Ilya is… protecting him?
Fuck.
That means that Ilya probably knows his real identity.
Fuck.
With Ilya intercepting all Alphas who might come his way, Shane gathers fifteen out of twenty-five trophies. There are ten left, and he suspects Ilya has gathered at least a few of the remaining ones, taking them over from other Alphas and he finds at least one on his own since a yellow flare goes off in his location.
He's right—Ilya lounges in the second place on the scoreboard, with six pieces of fabric, and the rest has been collected by three different Alphas.
At this point, Ilya isn't even trying to hide that he knows—he stays close to Shane as they head into the final category. This one is very special, and Shane really has a feeling that most of the contestants will be wiped out before they even manage to near half of the task.
And that task is riding Shane's horse.
It sounds easy in reality, and the Alphas are smirking upon hearing what the task entails, but what they don't know is how extremely picky Spark is when it comes to his riders and how much time it took him to trust Shane.
There's only one person in the whole world besides Shane whom Spark trusts.
Ilya is the first one to enter the ring. His clearly softens his Alpha aura to keep the horse calm, and he approaches it with steady confidence and softness, the same one he imparts on Shane. It puts Spark under his spell—Shane has to admit that he would also fall victim to Ilya's tactics—and the horse allows Ilya to pet him and then sit on his back without much protest.
That gives confidence to other Alphas. Too much confidence. Shane ends up laughing when the second contender lands on his ass before even touching the horse—Spark got irritated at the Alpha trying to approach him and kicked high.
The same fate awaits the strain of twenty contenders. Nobody succeeds to ride Spark the way Ilya did, and Shane notes how their confidence wanes and the Alphas' aura becomes damper and damper by the second. It's just Ilya who gloats.
By the time Shane enters the ring, Sparks is irritated, not to say angry. Shane talks to him evenly before he pets his head, bringing their foreheads together. The proximity allows for his real smell to reach the horse, and Sparks immediately calms down for good. Then sitting on his back is a piece of cake—it feels natural.
He hears some polite clapping as his feat is done. He dismounts, taking off his gloves and breathing out with relief. He won.
"And the winner is—noble Jannon. Congratulations, young man. Can you take off the mask?"
Shane hasn't thought that part through, but he has nothing to lose at this point. He slowly reaches to pull off the mask and lowers the collar of his robes, and the crowd explodes in gasps as people clearly recognise him. He doesn't care—he stands upright, head high, and stares down his father.
"That's cheating!"
"Unfair!"
"He didn't win fair and square—"
The protests of other Alphas are quickly smothered down as soon as Ilya releases his aura. He doesn't even need to speak up to defend Shane; as King, he just has much more power than all the Alpha combined, and it's enough to make them quit complaining. Shane basks in that protectiveness.
"Prince Shane. Please join us."
Shane can't ignore his father, so he drags his feet back to the stairs and then he's cut off from the crowd's emotions. The sudden crash of adrenaline makes him stagger; but there are hands supporting him and helping him stand upright.
"Careful," he hears and glances right back at Ilya.
"You knew it was me," he says accusingly, not surprised that Ilya followed him as he goes to his own beheading.
Ilya's eyes and words are only fond. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognise you?"
"I masked my scent—"
"Shane, I've known you since we were seven. I know how you move, how you shoot and how you mount your own horse. It really wasn't hard to guess."
Fuck—that brings heat to Shane's cheeks. Now that Ilya reasons aloud, it all makes sense. It was probably dumb to try to hide from him, Shane assumes.
"Why haven't you outed me, then?"
"I understand why you wanted to win the tournament."
"You're not mad? You wanted to win, too."
Ilya shrugs. "I came in second. First after you. That's good enough."
Shane bites his lip before staring up at Ilya. He feels solemn—but really, his decision has been made since the very beginning, since the day they met for the first time.
"I would have accepted you even without that stupid tournament."
"I know. I told you, I—I wanted to prove myself to you. You outshone me, but I really don't mind. I just wanted to protect you and—and I only hoped you'd still want us to be together."
"Will you mate me?" Shane asks. "Please?"
"Yes."
There's no hesitation as Ilya pulls him back close and Shane allows himself to drown in the sweet comfort. "But I guess first we should confront your parents."
Shane groans, but he allows Ilya to pull him towards the meeting room where Shane's parents are already waiting, agitated. They don't seem angry, but rather—concerned, perhaps? Shane struggles to understand their emotions, but it's not like he needs to manage them.
"I want to mate and marry Ilya," he announces before they even say anything. Ilya squeezes his hand. "He's it for me."
"I thought you didn't want to marry?"
"I didn't want to marry any of the girls," Shane clarifies. "And none of the men you gathered for the tournament, either. I want Ilya."
Shane's parents look from Shane towards Ilya, standing next to Shane, a bit protectively.
"How do you feel about this, Ilya? You're a king—is that something you want too?"
"Mum!"
"What?! I need to ask these questions before you make it irreversible!"
"Yuna," Ilya cuts in smoothly. "I proposed to Shane when we were children. I made us grass rings. I still have mine. I promise you my feelings about your son haven't changed. The only thing that's changed are the circumstances—with my father alive, I couldn't openly court Shane. But now I can. And I want to bond and marry him, too. I hope you'll give us your blessings."
"Oh, my darlings—you always had it."
Shane's mum goes to hug them both, his father soon joining, and Shane has never felt this loved.
Their real wedding rings are based on the prototypes made of grass. Ilya conferred with the royal goldsmith for countless hours before approving the design—and Shane falls in love with them at the first sight.
What he loves even more is Ilya putting the ring on his hand and them sealing the marriage with a sweet kiss, appropriate for the two kingdoms to see. They celebrate with a grand fest and food from both countries mixed up on the tables and a big white wedding cake, then they go for a run in their wolves forms as a married couple for the first time.
Shane enjoys the thrill of running with Ilya and doesn't even scowl when Ilya catches up with him and trips him up. They turn into their human forms, laughing and naked, and that same night they mark each other and they make love.
Shane then knows he's found real peace.