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 Like a totally outdated practice."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.
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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."
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[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."
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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.