Shane's been in these Ken doll-type uniforms before, but nothing like this. or maybe it's the intense spotlight, the way everyone's eyes search him out when he usually gets away with being the quiet, detached shadow of his parents, and the way he can feel the expectations mounting with every gaze that susses him.
the future king, or whatever. it's all formal bullshit that shouldn't even matter anymore, given they're just figureheads, but people love their traditions. decades ago, his father had defied expectations and married for love and in return, the country had watched and waited to see what the outcome would be.
it's safe to say most were disappointed.
instead of a charismatic leader, they got a soft-spoken prince who was deemed just kind enough, but boring. no scandals, no drama, but no personality either, other than smiling uncomfortably whenever he was pulled into conversations. he can't even pretend! the newspapers constantly bemoan, how will he be able to influence international relations?
his future wife, on the other hand, reads like his perfect counterpart. beautiful, whip-smart, intuitive, kind, loving, tough. her entourage creates a stir when they finally appear and Shane can immediately tell whyβthey're all sort of fucking beautiful, like if this was a movie, they'd be the pack of vampires no one can take their eyes off of.
Svetlana is even lovelier than the pictures of her splashed all over the media. her hand is delicate in his as Shane goes through the formality of kissing it as his greeting, but there's nothing delicate about her gaze; he flushes under her scrutiny and looks away before catching sight of her escortβRozanov, if he remembers correctly, who just might be the hottest guy he's ever seen.
that entire experience is more than enough to have him retreating at the first available opportunity, with Svetlana engaged in a conversation with his parents and everyone else distracted by the appearance of finger food and the sound of the orchestra striking up again to encourage dancing. Shane steps out onto the closest balcony, breathing deeply to calm his raging heartbeat and letting the crisp air wash over his hot skin. his fingers tug at the high neck collar. fuck this stupid suit. ]
[Ilya resents being here, at this charade of a marriage. Svetlana deserves better than being promised to someone she doesn't know, and Ilya had been vocal about that, despite his father's anger. But she was going along with it to keep the peace, which meant that Ilya was here with her, supporting, no matter how much he wanted better for her.
He'd been by her side most of the night, a judgmental shadow for anyone trying to suck up to her. But he'd ducked out for a smoke. He hadn't expected Svetlana's future husband and the Prince to come out too.
Ilya didn't say anything at first, just studied the prince. He was handsome, but stiff. Ilya would guess that he hated events like this, just from looking at him. When he finally spoke up, it was low and accented.]
How did you manage to slip away? Everyone is watching you.
[Ilya held out the pack of cigarettes in offering.]
[ he doesn't like the smell of cigarettes, but even Shane knows it's bad form to walk out, only to immediately turn around and walk back in. it's not like this is as bad as trying to avoid the sharks inside, anyway. it's just... maybe a little less stressful. he glances around, but is saved the agony of having to start the conversation when Rozanov speaks.
his voice is deep. Shane is immediately envious of it. ]
I don't think everyone is watching me, [ he counters, only to follow it up immediately, ] I mean, they're probably all admiring Svetlana and wondering how I landed an arrangement with someone like her
[ and he means it sincerely, although he's not sure if his smile conveys that properly. he tries to cross his arms, but the suit is too tight and he awkwardly lets them hang back down by his sides again. ]
"Half of room that is not watching Svetlana is watching you," Ilya corrected him. His accent was deeper than hers, but still easy to understand.
He ashed the cigarette out and tucked it back in the pack to get rid of later. Ilya gave Shane another once-over that was a little too slow and appreciative. "You did luck out. Svetlana is great girl." And Ilya wished she could just marry who she wanted to. In a different world, Ilya might even have married her. But in this one they were just friends, and Svetlana had to do her duty.
Ilya nods. "Call me Ilya, your highness." His tone on the title was a little playful. Shane didn't strike Ilya as someone who liked to strut around with his full title everywhere. "My family and Svetlana's have been friends for a long time."
The truth makes him flinch, but he appreciates the direct delivery of it. Nothing to overthink, no flowery diplomatic language where something is said when the opposite is meant. He likes Ilya already, although the way the man is looking him over makes him feel like he's being rotated on a toaster like a rotisserie chicken.
God, he hopes he's not blushing. And if he is, he hopes Ilya can't tell because it's dark. Dark-ish.
"Ilya," he pronounces carefully, doing his best to be super cool and calm and collected after a literal muse that ancient Greeks would've worshiped has checked him out. "It's nice to meet you. Just Shane isβShane is just fine."
Against his better judgment, he takes a few steps closer to come stand next to his new friend, digesting everything else that he's said.
"You probably don't support this then, huh? I mean, it's kind of weird. Like a totally outdated practice."
Ilya sees the flinch and softens his tone a little. "Yes, Ilya. You have it." He half smiles. "It is common name, back home. But is good to meet you, Shane. You'll see me much, I rented an apartment near here, to be here for Svetlana at first."
[He wanted to make sure she was safe and as happy as she could be. But he'd lie if he said he wasn't also looking forward to looking at her husband to be.
Which was why Ilya was hitting on him. There were few people he and Svetlana had taken to bed who hadn't also slept with the other one.
When Shane moves in, Ilya can feel the heat of his body and blows out a breath. It's not THAT cold out, but enough that the heat is welcome. So is the closeness.]
There is not anyone good enough for Svetlana, but she wants to make her father happy, and I want her to be happy. What about you? This is what you want, or it is family obligation?
The first thought that goes through Shane's head is, wow, his smile is nice. The second thought is, why isn't Ilya with Svetlana? Merits of marrying a prince aside, Ilya and Svetlana would actually look like the royal couple everyone wants to see.
"I probably shouldn't say this, but being a prince means giving up a lot of things you want."
It's not a direct answer, but he thinks Ilya will understand. On the other hand,
"But you don'tβ? You and Svetlana aren'tβ?" Together?
Svetlana and Ilya's relationship had gone beyond romance. They were best friends. Sometimes they slept together, but it was always a friendly thing - when one of them didn't feel like sleeping alone, or wasn't seeing anyone. They might have made one another happy enough, but they were more content as they were. If it could have kept her from needing to marry who she was told, he might have run away with her - but she'd wanted to do her duty by her father, so he would support her in that and do his best to make sure she was happy.
"What did you have to give up?" Ilya asked, aware it was probably a touch too personal but asking anyway.
He shook his head and took a drag from the cigarette in his hand. "We are friends," he said. "We've slept together, but is not anything but casual. And not since the marriage was announced."
He hesitates, trying to figure out what the best way to answer is; he can hear a number of people's voices in his headβincluding his mother'sβadvising him against being too open or honest, but he can't imagine Ilya being the type of person to run to the tabloids. Then again, maybe he's just being biased.
"I wanted to be an athlete, when I was younger."
It's a little known fact. Shane thinks he may have said it once when he was a child, but everyone had simply laughed and cooed over his endearingly naive ambitions. They didn't understand that even then, the crown prince had meant what he said: he belonged on a stage of ice, not here. Not somewhere where he couldn't let his mind go so his body could take care of the rest and do the talking instead.
Still, there's some relief in knowing that Svetlana isn't giving up a one true love or something equally tragic because of this arrangement. Shane nods, thoughtful and uncertain.
"I see. You do seem like the type of guy who would be more openly pissed if you were about to lose your partner. No matter what the consequences were."
Ilya tips his head and smiles. "So did I. I was nearly hockey player." He'd been very, very good to. Instead he got talked into following his father into the military, as if it were his duty. He was honorably discharged now and had little to do with his time.
He laughs. "We all do our duty, don't we?" It felt sometimes as if they were living centuries before modern times, when arranged marriages were still common. Now it stood out and seemed like some backwards tradition dreamed up by those in power to ensure power stayed with them and theirs.
But here he was, talking to the future bride groom. Who Ilya couldn't help admiring the subtle freckles on his face or the way his trousers hugged his ass.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
βfiftygoals
Shane's been in these Ken doll-type uniforms before, but nothing like this. or maybe it's the intense spotlight, the way everyone's eyes search him out when he usually gets away with being the quiet, detached shadow of his parents, and the way he can feel the expectations mounting with every gaze that susses him.
the future king, or whatever. it's all formal bullshit that shouldn't even matter anymore, given they're just figureheads, but people love their traditions. decades ago, his father had defied expectations and married for love and in return, the country had watched and waited to see what the outcome would be.
it's safe to say most were disappointed.
instead of a charismatic leader, they got a soft-spoken prince who was deemed just kind enough, but boring. no scandals, no drama, but no personality either, other than smiling uncomfortably whenever he was pulled into conversations. he can't even pretend! the newspapers constantly bemoan, how will he be able to influence international relations?
his future wife, on the other hand, reads like his perfect counterpart. beautiful, whip-smart, intuitive, kind, loving, tough. her entourage creates a stir when they finally appear and Shane can immediately tell whyβthey're all sort of fucking beautiful, like if this was a movie, they'd be the pack of vampires no one can take their eyes off of.
Svetlana is even lovelier than the pictures of her splashed all over the media. her hand is delicate in his as Shane goes through the formality of kissing it as his greeting, but there's nothing delicate about her gaze; he flushes under her scrutiny and looks away before catching sight of her escortβRozanov, if he remembers correctly, who just might be the hottest guy he's ever seen.
that entire experience is more than enough to have him retreating at the first available opportunity, with Svetlana engaged in a conversation with his parents and everyone else distracted by the appearance of finger food and the sound of the orchestra striking up again to encourage dancing. Shane steps out onto the closest balcony, breathing deeply to calm his raging heartbeat and letting the crisp air wash over his hot skin. his fingers tug at the high neck collar. fuck this stupid suit. ]
no subject
He'd been by her side most of the night, a judgmental shadow for anyone trying to suck up to her. But he'd ducked out for a smoke. He hadn't expected Svetlana's future husband and the Prince to come out too.
Ilya didn't say anything at first, just studied the prince. He was handsome, but stiff. Ilya would guess that he hated events like this, just from looking at him. When he finally spoke up, it was low and accented.]
How did you manage to slip away? Everyone is watching you.
[Ilya held out the pack of cigarettes in offering.]
no subject
his voice is deep. Shane is immediately envious of it. ]
I don't think everyone is watching me, [ he counters, only to follow it up immediately, ] I mean, they're probably all admiring Svetlana and wondering how I landed an arrangement with someone like her
[ and he means it sincerely, although he's not sure if his smile conveys that properly. he tries to cross his arms, but the suit is too tight and he awkwardly lets them hang back down by his sides again. ]
You'reβRozanov, right? Close family friend?
no subject
He ashed the cigarette out and tucked it back in the pack to get rid of later. Ilya gave Shane another once-over that was a little too slow and appreciative. "You did luck out. Svetlana is great girl." And Ilya wished she could just marry who she wanted to. In a different world, Ilya might even have married her. But in this one they were just friends, and Svetlana had to do her duty.
Ilya nods. "Call me Ilya, your highness." His tone on the title was a little playful. Shane didn't strike Ilya as someone who liked to strut around with his full title everywhere. "My family and Svetlana's have been friends for a long time."
no subject
God, he hopes he's not blushing. And if he is, he hopes Ilya can't tell because it's dark. Dark-ish.
"Ilya," he pronounces carefully, doing his best to be super cool and calm and collected after a literal muse that ancient Greeks would've worshiped has checked him out. "It's nice to meet you. Just Shane isβShane is just fine."
Against his better judgment, he takes a few steps closer to come stand next to his new friend, digesting everything else that he's said.
"You probably don't support this then, huh? I mean, it's kind of weird. Like a totally outdated practice."
no subject
[He wanted to make sure she was safe and as happy as she could be. But he'd lie if he said he wasn't also looking forward to looking at her husband to be.
Which was why Ilya was hitting on him. There were few people he and Svetlana had taken to bed who hadn't also slept with the other one.
When Shane moves in, Ilya can feel the heat of his body and blows out a breath. It's not THAT cold out, but enough that the heat is welcome. So is the closeness.]
There is not anyone good enough for Svetlana, but she wants to make her father happy, and I want her to be happy. What about you? This is what you want, or it is family obligation?
sorry for the delay!! this month has been π€―
"I probably shouldn't say this, but being a prince means giving up a lot of things you want."
It's not a direct answer, but he thinks Ilya will understand. On the other hand,
"But you don'tβ? You and Svetlana aren'tβ?" Together?
no worries! Never a rush.
"What did you have to give up?" Ilya asked, aware it was probably a touch too personal but asking anyway.
He shook his head and took a drag from the cigarette in his hand. "We are friends," he said. "We've slept together, but is not anything but casual. And not since the marriage was announced."
thank you!!
"I wanted to be an athlete, when I was younger."
It's a little known fact. Shane thinks he may have said it once when he was a child, but everyone had simply laughed and cooed over his endearingly naive ambitions. They didn't understand that even then, the crown prince had meant what he said: he belonged on a stage of ice, not here. Not somewhere where he couldn't let his mind go so his body could take care of the rest and do the talking instead.
Still, there's some relief in knowing that Svetlana isn't giving up a one true love or something equally tragic because of this arrangement. Shane nods, thoughtful and uncertain.
"I see. You do seem like the type of guy who would be more openly pissed if you were about to lose your partner. No matter what the consequences were."
no subject
He laughs. "We all do our duty, don't we?" It felt sometimes as if they were living centuries before modern times, when arranged marriages were still common. Now it stood out and seemed like some backwards tradition dreamed up by those in power to ensure power stayed with them and theirs.
But here he was, talking to the future bride groom. Who Ilya couldn't help admiring the subtle freckles on his face or the way his trousers hugged his ass.