Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The tournament was to last three days. Only the eldest child was to compete, which automatically disqualified him - not that he would’ve been allowed to participate. Sean wasn’t even supposed to attend the festival with the rest of the family, but his mother had managed to convince the king to bring him with them.

Magic was involved. He had no doubt of that.

The festival grounds were filled to the brim, the air rank with the filth of commoners. He slipped his way through the crush of bodies to the front where the seven Royal Families were presenting their firstborns.

His brother Eric stood beside them, nose high, chest puffed out, formal attire spotless, exactly like the other six competitors. Alphas, all of them. Magic had to have had a hand in that, too.

He should be among them. Eric did not deserve his spot.

But being out of the castle unattended provided an unprecedented chance - he did not have to compete in the tournament to win the prize.

And what a prize.

He stood beside two older women on a raised platform, all predator in the way he sized up the sons and daughters before him, the sleek black lines of his clothes doing nothing to hide the toned muscles of a trained warrior.

Grimms.

All three of them, come out of hiding to present their own omega firstborn. They were a scarcely-seen race, preferring to stick to the shadows, known only by the trail of bodies they left behind. An alliance with them would solidify Eric’s authority - or lead to his ruin should another succeed in his place.

Sean would be that person. His time had come - the right moment had arrived. Mating with an omega Grimm would upend any plans Eric had and secure his path to the throne.

The woman in the middle raised her hand and the din quieted. She spoke, her voice firm, holding the attention of the crowd, “The rules are simple. Prove yourself worthy, or return home alone. There will be three trials chosen by my son, Nick, one for each day.”

She turned to him, and he murmured something too soft to hear. The woman turned back to the crowd. “The first trial will test your marksmanship. We will begin when the sun has reached its peak in the sky. Use your time wisely.”

The crowd buzzed with hushed conversations as the three Grimms stepped off of the raised platform. The seven competitors lunged for Nick, blocking his path and circling him like sharks as he tried to slip away. The two women allowed it, leaving him in their clutches to greet the heads of the Families.

Sean pursed his lips. He’d never be able to get to him as long as the others were around. And if Eric saw him with Nick he’d be killed.

But Nick wormed his way out of their grasp, shaking his head and waving them off when they tried to follow him. They lingered - Sean didn’t, pushing his way through the crowd, his gaze locked on Nick’s retreating form. He led him beyond the feast tables, beyond the servants setting up the trial, out of the festival grounds and into a small, empty clearing surrounded by bushy trees with numerous targets scattered around. A bow rested against a barrel full of arrows, and Nick picked it up, nocked an arrow, and turned and aimed at the tree Sean was hiding behind.

Sean slowly stepped out, his hands raised in front of him. Nick did not lower his aim, so he asked, “Is this where you practice, too?”

“Leave,” short, clipped, forceful, the snarled word was nothing like he’d ever heard from any omega he’d ever known. It made his blood boil from the challenge in it, and he had to suck in a deep, quiet breath to keep from snarling back.

Nick wasn’t an omega. The Grimms were presenting an alpha heir.

He should have known. Omega Grimms didn’t exist.

He could still turn this in his favor. He could still secure his throne with an alpha mate - an alpha mate. He could handle that. He had to.

If he survived.

“I’ll leave,” Sean said. “If you can beat me in a contest to see who gets to practice here.”

“Or I could put an arrow through your heart.”

Sean spread his hands out. “But then you’ll never know who wins.”

Nick snorted. “I will.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then win.” Nick’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, and Sean graced him with a small smile.

Fire. He was playing with fire. An alpha Grimm was as dangerous as they came, and here he was, challenging one to a shooting contest where he was about to end up as the target-

Nick turned and released the arrow, right into the middle of one of the targets. He whipped back to face Sean, his hand cutting a vicious arc through the air at him, stance rigid and exuding aggression. “Well? You don’t have a bow.”

His breath left him in a silent rush. “No. Can I borrow yours?”

“You came to practice without a bow?”

Sean just held out his hand. Nick huffed and shoved the bow at him.

Now all he had to do was beat a Grimm at archery.

The bow was familiar, yet foreign - he should have brought his own. But he couldn’t have anticipated this.

Actually, he should have. The only thing Grimms were known for were their fighting prowess.

And their ruthlessness. He might die if he lost.

He might die if he won, too.

Breathe. The bow was the perfect weight, the perfect balance, all he had to do was trust himself. While Eric had been practicing court subterfuge he had been practicing warfare.

The feathers on the arrow tickled his fingers as he drew back the bowstring. He aimed. Breathed. Fired.

The arrow lodged dead-center.

Nick clicked his tongue and thrust his hand out, snatching the bow back. He nocked another arrow with rapid precision, releasing it without hesitation to fly straight and true into the middle of another target.

Sean held out his hand. Nick slapped the bow into it. His next arrow landed the same as the first, and the next, and the next, and he fell into it, into the feeling of the bowstring drawing taut under his fingertips, of the twang of it releasing beside his ear. He should not have second guessed himself. Doubt bred despair, planting the seeds to a leader’s downfall.

Nick stopped him before he could release his next shot and pointed at a target partially obscured by leaves, hidden deep in the boughs of a tree. “Can you hit that one?”

He could try. “Yes.”

It might’ve been the heat of the gaze on him, or the heat of the competition, or maybe the heat of the sun blazing down on them, but somehow the arrow hit its mark. Nick let out a whistle beside him. “You’re not half-bad.”

“Neither are you.” Sean offered him the bow again, and Nick took it back from him with a smile. “You don’t seem to need the practice.”

“I’m just…” He shrugged and waved at one of the targets with an arrow. “Warming up.”

“For what?”

Nick’s shoulders hiked up and his gaze darted to him, his eyes wide. “For… you know. Judging the tournament.”

“Ah,” Sean said. Liar. “Of course. In case the competitors need a demonstration.”

Nick deflated, the tension draining out of his frame. “Exactly. But what about you? You don’t seem like you need the practice either.”

“I’m helping you warm up.”

“Oh?” He huffed out a laugh. “Is that right? I thought this was a contest.”

“Is it helping?”

Nick went quiet for a moment, looking around at the range. His smile returned, shy around the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

They continued, one arrow per target, and when all of the targets were filled Nick turned to Sean and crowed, “I win.”

Sean lifted a brow. “It looks like a tie to me.”

“No, it isn’t.” And he nocked another arrow, aimed, and fired.

It split one of Sean’s arrows in two.

Nick barked out a laugh, his grin wide and sharp. “See? Show me you can do that, and then I’ll call it a tie.”

He could not do that. Sean nodded. “Of course.”

So he took the bow, and his arrow landed in the target next to one of Nick’s. He turned to Nick and presented the bow to him. “You win.” 

Nick shook his head and didn’t take it. “Nah, that was kind of unfair. Let’s just call it a tie.”

His brows rose, and he picked through his next words with care, “So you’ll let me come back?”

"Mmm…" He eyed Sean, a slow drag down the entire length of his body. “What’s your name?”

“Sean.”

“I’m Nick. You’re not one of the contestants, are you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Sean answered it anyway, “Unfortunately, no.”

“Hmm.” Nick stepped close, his hands warm where they wrapped around Sean’s over the bow, the weapon pressed between their bodies. He gazed up at him from under long lashes, head tilted just so, baring the pretty column of his throat. This close Sean could smell him, and the pounding in his ears nearly drowned out Nick’s hushed, “Unfortunately.”

And then Nick gently took the bow from him and turned away, heading back toward the festival grounds.

Sean let out a rough breath as he disappeared around the bend, the scent of omega still lingering in his nose.

Chapter Text

Sean shoved through the gathered crowd, forcing his way toward the front. He was not to be seen with the king, which meant muddling with the commoners. They stank of animals and sweat, and muttered amongst themselves in a dialect he couldn't parse, but it was a temporary discomfort because-

A hand slid into his pocket.

He snatched it, snapping the offender's wrist with a quick twist. The man behind him howled into his ear, spewing out a slew of curses befitting a Hexenbiest. He grabbed Sean’s shoulder and yanked him around to face him - a Reinigen with a spine, not the most unusual thing he'd seen that day - and spat what sounded like, "You broke my wrist!"

"I'll break more than your wrist if you touch me again." The rat bared his teeth, and Sean scoffed. The fool didn’t know a prince when he saw one. "I don't have time for thieves. Consider yourself lucky."

"I'll-"

A horn bellowed, silencing the crowd around him. Sean bit out a soft curse under his breath and whirled around, tearing his way to the front as the faint notes of a woman's voice drifted on the breeze.

He broke through the mass of bodies to press against the gate blocking off the arena. A man pressed up against his back, cursing him for his height. Women stood on either side of him, blocking him in, their arms pressed tight against his. Heat encased his form, amplified by the sun blazing above, inciting sweat to bead on his forehead and drip down his spine.

But all of it was a temporary discomfort, because he would be king.

His omega sat on the other side of the arena next to his mother and the other woman. The heads of the Families sat beside them, their thrones replaced by wooden chairs. The seven contestants lined up before them like show ponies, prim and proper with their clothes unwrinkled and not a hair out of place. Eric had changed his clothes. Of course he had. He couldn't dirty his formal wear, even with sweat.

Sean huffed out a soft puff of laughter, his hands clenched tight around the gate. Eric had never sweated a day in his life. He was going to lose in the first trial, and then the king was going to be furious, and then he'd call on Sean-

No. That would never happen.

Nick’s mother waved her hand, and the contestants dispersed, all of them trotting off to the far side of the field. Only one grabbed the bow and one of the quivers leaning against the far gate and stepped forward, however - the heir to the Plaverton kingdom, Nathaniel Drayson. The young man’s family ruled a neutral merchant kingdom with heavily guarded trade routes, specializing in ore. An alliance with the Grimms would push them out of neutrality, but it would also give them leverage to expand their trade routes.

But there were no targets to shoot. Sean’s brows furrowed as his gaze flicked about the empty arena.

The horn blew again.

Four green orbs shot into the air. They bobbed and weaved and spun about each other in a dizzying flurry - Sean’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. The orbs repeated their paths. They were tracing out patterns.

Nathaniel stood still for a long moment, long enough that the crowd behind Sean began to yell at him. He looked over at the crowd, then back to the orbs, and nocked his first arrow.

The arrow flew past one of the green orbs and thunked into a bale of hay stacked at the other end of the trial grounds.

Sean let out a rough breath. But Nathaniel nocked another arrow, took aim, and fired again.

And missed.

The crowd began to make rude noises. Sean's gaze darted to Nick - his cheek was cradled in his palm with his elbow on the chair's armrest, and he was picking at his pants.

Sean’s lips quirked up at the corners. Nick wasn't interested in this one. Good.

Nathaniel continued missing until he ran out of arrows, and he shoved the bow into a young woman's hands and stormed off to the side. The woman grabbed another quiver of arrows and stepped forward - Bethany Tuile of Mulvrie, another small merchant kingdom. They traded in cloth and animal goods using the trade routes already established by the Plaverton kingdom.

Bethany stared up at the orbs for a moment, then nodded and took her stance. 

Her first arrow skimmed one of the orbs.

Nick sat up.

The gate creaked under Sean’s hands.

The crowd roared their excitement behind him, and a huge grin stole across her face. She nocked another arrow, aimed, and fired.

She missed.

And missed.

And missed.

None of her arrows managed to skim the orbs again, and she passed the bow to the next contestant and trudged away.

The man holding the bow was thin, wiry, and short - Hadrian Klinnheim, heir to the Gadbroll kingdom. Magic ran deep in the ley lines under the land there, and the court whispered that magic ran in the Klinnheim veins, too. They did not need an army. No one could penetrate their borders. No one knew what went on inside that kingdom, except that the magical goods that came out of it were of the highest quality. His father kept in their king’s good graces almost obsessively - even at the expense of his other alliances with large armies. The Klinnheim’s did not need to form an alliance with the Grimms, but if they did they could conquer the other six kingdoms.

That is, if their heir could perform. Sean’s lip curled as Hadrian fumbled and dropped his arrow, and the crowd guffawed, the women beside him shrieking with laughter.

His ears rang.

Temporary. This was temporary.

But Hadrian managed to nock the arrow, and somehow managed to draw back the bowstring.

It was useless. He would miss.

Hadrian fired.

The arrow flew straight into one of the orbs, which exploded into a cloud of sparkles that slowly disappeared.

The arena went silent.

Sean’s gaze snapped to Nick. He was leaning forward in his chair now, hands braced on his knees.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His gaze snapped back to Hadrian as he was nocking another arrow. He did not fumble this time.

The arrow shot through another orb.

The crowd gasped around him.

The next arrow shot through an orb.

The gate splintered under his hands, and he fought back the ripple itching across his face.

The last orb shattered.

The crowd thundered out a cheer.

But Nick wasn't cheering - he had crossed his arms and looked away, and the tight band around Sean’s chest loosened just enough for him to draw breath.

Good - that was good at least. He could work with that.

Hadrian gave the bow to the next heir in line, another man- Eric.

Eric would fail.

He detested getting his hands dirty - they were uncalloused, soft things, unfit for battle. He’d never even held a bow.

Eric blew a kiss to Nick, and nocked his first arrow as the horn blew and another four orbs shot into the sky. He pulled back the bowstring, his form- his form perfect, and fired.

The arrow flew right into one of the orbs.

Magic.

It had to be magic.

The king had some of the most powerful Hexenbiests at his beck and call. It would be easy to concoct a spell for this. The Grimms had to know that. But Nick’s mother did not stop Eric from nocking his next arrow - because they could not know that he had never held a bow, that he was a fraud, that they were all being fooled.

His next arrow burst an orb.

Sean sucked in a deep, slow breath through his nose and shuddered at the scent of the unwashed alpha plastered along his back, as if he had the right to touch him, a prince, a future king-

Temporary.

Another arrow, another orb shot down.

It was all temporary.

The last orb burst into sparkles.

His omega was looking at Eric.

Eric, who couldn’t compete if he was dead.

It would be so simple. He’d smother him in his sleep. Or he’d poison his wine. Or maybe he’d hire the rat thief to slit his throat.

And then he’d take his place in the competition and win without magic, which Eric could never do, and Nick would be his mate and he’d become king and it would be so simple.

Except for the guards surrounding Eric at all times. And his food taster. And the fact that the king would never let Sean represent the throne, much less sit on it.

But the king would have no choice if Sean was the one mated to the Grimm heir.

Simple.

The horn bellowed, startling him slightly, and his eyes narrowed as a young woman stalked up with the bow in hand - Yvette Tyransky, heir to the Rotsengard kingdom, which could hardly be called a kingdom at all. It hung off the edge of the cliffs to the east, and their people spent most of their lives at sea. But they commanded the largest navy, so his father suffered their perpetual fish-stench and treated their king like a brother. An alliance with the Grimms would skew the power in that relationship in their favor, would give them power on land in addition to their strength at sea.

Yvette did not hesitate.

One after another, her arrows flew rapid-fire into the orbs, shattering them with wicked accuracy.

Nick was gripping the armrests, leaning almost completely out of his chair.

Wood crushed under Sean’s hands, and his face rippled - breathe, he needed to breathe. Nick would be his.

The horn blew as Yvette spun on her heel and shoved the bow into a burly man’s hands - Javier Rouss, heir to the Nimier kingdom, a kingdom of brutes. Even their babies were trained to hold swords. An alliance with the Grimms would make them an unstoppable force.

Javier rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck, his arms, his legs - all unnecessary, and a warm-up he should have completed before taking the bow. He shook out his arms, then grabbed an arrow and let it loose without pause.

It burst the first orb.

The crowd roared behind Sean. Javier waved at them, a huge grin on his face, and then shot his next two arrows in rapid succession, both of them hitting an orb. He pulled another arrow from the quiver on his back and pointed it at Nick, who was still leaning forward in his chair.

The arrow flew, and the last orb shattered.

Javier raised the bow into the air as the crowd cheered, holding it high and Sean dragged his hand over his face, chasing the itch away from the corner of his mouth. He'd kill him, too.

The horn blew again and the orbs reappeared. Javier trotted off to the rest of the contestants with a smile, handing the bow to the last man to face the trial - Peter Filgreth of the Gaften kingdom, which was a small agricultural-focused kingdom often trampled over during wartime. They did not have an army, and an alliance with the Grimms would secure them protection.

But Peter’s arrows would not launch, their arc landing them a few feet away from him. His form became worse as the crowd became louder, and soon the arrows simply fell off of the bow to land at his feet.

Sean’s gaze drifted back to Nick-

His seat was empty.

The crowd around him jeered, and his gaze snapped back to Peter as he scurried away to join the rest of the contestants, his head hung low. Nick’s mother shouted something, and the horn blew, and the crowd went quiet.

“Now-” She cut off as a hooded figure hopped into the arena, a bow in hand, a quiver on their back, and strode up to the spot the contestants had shot their arrows from. Nick’s mother continued, her voice a rough snarl, “Leave. You do not belong-”

The figure pulled back their hood.

Nick stood tall and proud, an alpha if he’d ever seen one, facing down his mother as he called out, “I am the firstborn child of the Kessler line. And I’ll be competing for myself!”

“Nicholas, do not loose a single arrow!” his mother bellowed.

But Nick turned away from her and pulled an arrow from his quiver, raising his bow and aiming at the orbs still floating in the sky.

“Nicholas!”

The arrow flew.

The first orb exploded in a shower of sparkles.

Warming up.

He had said he was warming up.

Another arrow flew, and another orb burst into an array of shining light.

The crowd was silent, still. The seven contestants had become statues. 

Nick’s mother was stomping across the field now, her snarl loud in the sudden vacuum of noise, “Do not shoot another arrow!”

Nick took aim. Fired.

The arrow shot through the last two targets as one passed in front of the other.

Nick’s mother reached him, grabbing his arm and whipping him around to face her. A lesser alpha would have quailed in the face of her fury. Nick stared down his nose at her, every inch of him screaming defiance.

A smile stole across Sean’s lips.

He didn’t need to compete at all. Nick was going to do it for him.

Chapter Text

A shout from one of the contestants broke the silence, “Isn’t he an omega?!”

The crowd exploded into a nonsensical howl. The seven heirs surged toward the pair still staring each other down and circled them, each shouting over the other until their voices became incomprehensible nonsense.

Nick’s mother dragged him out of the circle and waved at someone at the edge of the arena. The horn bellowed, and the cacophony ceased. She turned to the seven heirs, her free hand raised in placation, her voice slicing through the deafening silence pervading the arena, “He is not competing-”

“I am!” Nick ripped out of her grasp. “The rules state that only firstborns can compete - they don’t say anything about being an alpha!”

She stepped close to him, muttering something too soft to hear. Nick cut his hand to the sky where the orbs used to be. “But you know I can beat all of them!”

“Nicholas! Go.”

He scoffed and turned away from her, storming out of the arena. Nick’s mother shook her head and approached the heirs, her voice no longer carrying far enough for Sean to hear.

That was his cue to leave. Sean delved back into the crush of bodies, forcing his way through until he reached the other side. He took off in the direction Nick had left in, his strides hurried, scanning the faces around him as he circled the arena to the other side where Nick had sat. The knights guarding the area stopped him with their spears. 

“Halt!” the one on the right cried. “State your business!”

Sean sighed. He did not have time for this. “I’m with King Renard.”

“So is everyone else out there. Leave.”

He could not prove his heritage without risking his father’s ire - losing his head would be the least of his worries if word spread that the king had brought his bastard son to the tournament. And if Nick was still back there he’d be unreachable with the heads of the Families watching. 

But maybe Nick wasn’t back there.

He took off across the field to the forest again, back to the make-shift range with the targets still full of arrows, but only a rabbit met him there. Sean wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. There’d be more chances later. He still had the rest of the evening, along with two more days. That was plenty of time.

The trek back to the king’s tents was slow, a slog through the milling attendees, their incessant chatter chisling into his eardrums. He headed for the two largest tents - a deep crimson, grandiose in their structure, befitting a king and his heir. The guards standing watch did not acknowledge him as he slipped into the smaller one, but the man inside did.

"Good lord, brother," Eric said, wrinkling his nose and leaning away from him. "You reek worse than the dogs after a hunt. While it's appropriate and fitting for a mutt such as yourself, Father has deemed it necessary that we suffer your presence during our stay and I will not have you stink up my tent. Go. Wash up."

Sean bit his tongue and simply walked to the water basin without a word.

"Did you see him?" Eric sucked in a breath through his teeth, his gaze locked on the tent flaps as he plopped into a chair. "Fiesty little thing. Thought he could compete for himself! He'll need a firm hand to bring him in line."

Nick would need a firm hand, but it wouldn't be Eric’s.

"There's a feast tonight," Eric continued, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "You're not going."

Sean paused as he set his shirt down. "So I'm supposed to starve?"

"Oh, please brother, don’t be dramatic. I'll have one of the servants bring you a plate." Eric eyed him as he dragged the damp cloth over his arms. "You were never here, understood? Father allowed you to come because he pities you, but there is no space for you at our table. Unless, of course, you wish to dine at my feet."

"That's not necessary," he bit out through gritted teeth, and Eric chuckled and waved a hand through the air dismissively.

"You're always welcome to try. You might find you like being on your knees."

"I'd rather starve."

Eric shrugged, a loose roll of his shoulders completely unbecoming of the Crown Prince. "If you insist."

Sean roughly finished cleaning himself in silence, his jaw locked around the snarl threatening to escape. He didn’t bother drying off, just yanked on a new set of clothes and pushed back out of the tent. A breeze rushed past, cooling the damp on his skin.

Away. He needed to get away.

No. He needed to find Nick. But there would be no chance to approach him while the vultures kept watch at the feast.

Sean ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. Away. Anywhere would do.

He needed a horse.

He turned and strode toward the stables, weaving around the commoners and knights milling about, each step away from the tent seeping more and more tension from his body. The crowd thinned and dispersed around him, all of the attendees gathering at the long tables set out at the other end of the vast field, leaving him in quiet solitude.

He'd never been alone outside of the castle. A guard always followed his footsteps per the queen's orders - she did not approve of an usurper gallivanting about unsupervised - but no one had followed him since Eric had sent him away when they first arrived.

There was no clatter of metal, no thump of boots, no grunts of exertion.

Just him and the wind.

And now the horses. They nickered at him from their stalls, bobbing their heads and scraping their hooves on the ground. A small smile graced his lips as he approached an enormous black steed, its dark eyes sizing him up. He offered it his hand, and his smile widened as it mouthed at his fingers.

"You again?"

His head snapped to face the familiar voice. Nick stood inside the stall next to the black horse, his hand resting on its saddle.

Its saddle.

"Going somewhere?" Sean asked.

Nick stared him down, a small frown marring his face. "Don't try to stop me."

"I won’t. But shouldn’t you be at the feast?" 

His chin tilted up. “Shouldn’t you?”

“I’m not the guest of honor. Nobody will miss me, but everybody will notice your absence.” Nick shrank in on himself, his gaze drifting to the side, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Sean risked a step closer and murmured, "It's alright, I won’t tell anyone. I don't like them either."

His gaze snapped back to Sean, his eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't want to mate with any of them, do you?"

"That's not…"

"You don't have to." Sean brushed his hand over the horse's head, keeping his stance loose and open. Unthreatening. "You should be free to choose who you mate with."

As long as he chose Sean.

Nick ducked his head, his hand drifting up to rub at his arm.

"For what it's worth," Sean continued when he didn’t reply. "I thought you were amazing."

He peeked up at him from under his lashes, almost demure in the soft way he asked, "You saw?"

So he could act like a proper omega. He didn't need a firm hand - he needed a gentle one. "Yes. I have no doubt that you'd win the tournament, and that's the reason why they don't want you to participate. They know you'll win too."

Nick swayed closer to him, the faint hint of a smile ghosting around the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. Did you see the rest of them? Only half managed to hit the targets."

"And only because of magic."

The smile dropped. "What?"

"At least one of the contestants was using magic to enhance their skills." Hadrian might’ve used magic, too, but there was no way to know for certain - unlike with Eric, who undoubtedly used it to enhance his skills.

"But how would you know that?"

"I…" But if he told Nick about his heritage it would ruin everything.

No. He couldn't reveal that now. "Just… a hunch."

"A hunch? My mother can’t disqualify anyone on a hunch, she needs proof. Otherwise…" He shrugged.

Sean scratched behind the horse's ear when it nudged him. "It might not matter, depending on what the other two trials are. Have you decided what they'll be yet?"

"Yes…?" He sighed and shifted his weight to his other leg. "No… I thought of one for tomorrow but I don't know if it's a good idea anymore… I was going to participate in that one too, but my mother was furious that I joined in today."

“She was just surprised.”

“No. She threatened to lock me up for the rest of the tournament if I didn’t- if I didn’t behave,” he spat the word as if it were poison on his tongue. “She’ll probably be searching for me to do just that once she finds out I’m not at the feast.”

“Why aren’t you at the feast, then?”

“Are you serious? I’d be forced to play nice with a bunch of-” he cut off with a grimace, and leaned on the horse with a sigh. “So I’m leaving.”

Sean frowned. If Nick left he'd lose his only chance at the throne - and the tentative peace between the Families would snap. “You’ll start a war if you do that.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?!” Nick dragged his hand over his face. “My mother said… that whoever wins will expect certain… things from me. That they’ll expect me to act a certain way. As if I’m…”

He looked away, his lips cutting a thin line across his paled face. An omega in the court was seen, not heard, and certainly never fought. Most never left the castle walls. 

Sean continued for him when he remained silent, “A proper omega.”

Nick nodded, a slight bob of his head, and crossed his arms. “I don’t even know what that means. Proper? To who? None of the other Grimms ever cared that I’m an omega. I was just Nick, and that’s all I've ever wanted to be. You understand, don’t you?”

A perfect opportunity.

Sean smiled, and said, “I do.”

Nick returned his smile with a small one of his own, the high peaks of his shoulders smoothing down to softer slopes. “Thanks.”

"What was your idea for tomorrow’s trial?"

Nick studied him for a moment, and then shook his head slightly and said, "Dueling. I'm pretty good with a sword, too."

"But none of them would fight you. You’re an-"

"I know." He rolled his eyes with a huff. "But I'm also a Grimm, and I could beat all of them with one hand behind my back."

Sean lifted a brow, and asked carefully, "Oh? Do you think you could beat me?"

Nick barked out a laugh, slapping his hand over his mouth quickly as if it'd been startled out of him. When he calmed down he grinned at Sean and crooned, "With my eyes closed."

He forced a smile. "Care for another contest, then? I could help you warm up again."

Unlike a bow he kept a sword with him at all times, along with several daggers, a collection he curated to foil the assassination attempts. 

"But I'm not even going to compete."

"Aren't you?"

Nick went quiet again, staring at Sean as if he held the answer. And he did - Nick would mate with him instead, and as long as he produced an heir and didn't slaughter Sean’s subjects he could be as much of a Grimm as he pleased.

In fact, having a Grimm by his side was ideal. It would deter the assassins.

Eric was a fool. It would be a waste to have a Grimm at his beck and call and then lock him up.

After a moment Nick smiled, a brilliant, sweet curl of his lips that lit up his face. "Yeah, okay. But I won’t go easy on you."

“I’d be insulted if you did.”

“You might die.”

“It’ll be an honorable death.”

“It’ll be painful.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Than death?” Nick laughed and stepped closer, placing his hand on top of Sean’s where it rested on the gate. “You’ve died?”

Sean flipped his hand and brushed his thumb over Nick’s knuckles. “Once or twice. It’s the coming back that’s the hard part.”

“I’ve never known anyone who’s died before,” Nick mused quietly, gazing up at him with storm-blue eyes.

Sean hummed and picked up his hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to it, murmuring against the soft skin, “I’m alive now.”

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

Chapter Text

“Come on,” Nick said, opening the gate and tugging him into the stall. “Before someone comes looking for me. We can take my horse.”

Sean offered his hand to help him into the saddle and Nick scoffed at him before mounting the horse with ease, saying, “I was born on a horse.”

He did not doubt that.

So he climbed up behind Nick and wrapped his arms around him, bringing them flush together. Nick’s frame was solid in his arms, all hard lines, well defined muscles flexing under his hands, so unlike the court omegas he’d bedded that he could be mistaken for an alpha if he didn’t smell so sweet. 

Nick clicked his tongue and cracked the reins. The horse took off, forcing Sean to tighten his grip. They surged through the field toward the forest, the wind buffeting his face and tearing at his clothes. He ducked his head down, hiding his face from the wind, and took the chance to tuck his nose against the soft skin of his omega’s neck to scent him properly for the first time.

He didn’t just smell sweet.

He smelled ripe.

Sean shuddered and let his hand drift down to splay against Nick’s flat belly. It wouldn’t be flat for long.

The horse slowed as they entered the forest, keeping along a narrow path cut through the brush by animals, its hooves beating out a steady, muted thumping against the dirt. A canopy of leaves the size of his palms draped over the trees surrounding them, concealing fragrant fruit hanging heavy on twisting boughs and filtering the rays of warmth streaming in from above, casting the world in soothing shadow. A pair of squirrels stopped chasing each other as they passed, their beady eyes watching them from a thick trunk.

After a while the trees cleared to reveal a vast lake, and Nick called to the horse to stop. He leaned back into Sean’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder, and waved at the lake. “What do you think?”

“It’s the perfect spot.”

Nick hummed but did not move to dismount. A bird sang nearby, a bright melody that cut crisp through the air. The water glittered in the sunlight, a liquid jewel lapping gentle upon the shore. The horse nickered and shifted its weight underneath them.

“It’s nice out here, away from the festival,” Nick murmured.

“Mmm.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go back…” Nick let out a quiet sigh. “Maybe…”

Sean squeezed him gently. “Maybe?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Ready to lose?”

“Are you?”

Nick chuckled and shoved at him gently. “Off.”

His boots thudded in the dirt as he dropped off of the horse. Nick dismounted with ease and led the horse to a nearby tree, tying its reins around a low-hanging branch.

Sean called out to him, “You have a beautiful horse.”

Nick smiled at him as he brushed his hand over the horse’s nose. “Thanks! We’ve been together for forever.”

“What’s his name?”

“Monroe. I named him after someone I met who-” Nick abruptly cut off, his face pinched, and said in a rush, “I don’t know. Nevermind.”

Another possible suitor - and outside of the tournament, too. “He must have been someone important to you if you named your horse after him.”

“He wasn’t…” Nick bit his lip, his gaze flicking around the clearing before returning to Sean. “It’s just that he… saved my life?”

“Who was he?”

He was silent for a moment. Then, “Look, you can’t tell anyone. At all. Promise?”

He would kill this Monroe. “On my mother’s grave.”

Nick blew out a rough breath and tore his fingers through his hair. “Okay. It was… my first hunt, so of course I got separated from my mother by a pack of Coyotls. I managed to get away, but I got hurt. Really hurt. I thought…”

Nick shrugged, his eyes downcast. “I thought that was it. But this guy found me bleeding out, and he patched me up, and he helped me get most of the way home.”

“Most of the way?”

“He was… don’t be… you promised, okay.”

“What is so bad?”

Nick shook his head, and said, his voice small, “He was Wesen. A Blutbad.”

Sean leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “And he didn’t eat you?”

That was impossible - a Blutbad could not resist the pull of fresh blood. Nick must have been hallucinating.

“No. He said he was- that he didn’t do that. He said that he was Wieder, or something, and that he didn’t eat people.” Nick finally looked up at him, his eyes bright. “He knew I was a Grimm! And he helped me! He saved my life! And he said- he said there were more like him, too!”

Wieder. It would be easy to verify if Nick’s story was true.

“I know… that I should have killed him,” Nick continued. “That he could have been lying. But maybe… maybe not all Wesen are bad…?”

Sean swallowed hard around the lump suddenly lodged in his throat. The silence stretched between them, and Nick blurted out before he could find his voice, “I just mean!”

He stopped short, and then whispered, “I didn’t mean anything. Please forget I said that.”

“No,” Sean managed, and Nick’s head snapped up, his eyes wide in his paled face. “You’re right. Not all Wesen are bad.”

Nick stared at him.

So Sean continued, “I think Monroe is a great name.”

A beat passed. The bird sang its song, the breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees around them, Monroe nickered quietly.

A smile bloomed on Nick’s face, and he said, his voice as soft as the wind, “Really?”

“I do.”

Nick ducked his head, a faint flush of pink coloring his cheeks. “Thanks. We should… probably get started. You know. Before my mother drags me back.”

"If you'd like."

"Yeah, come on." Nick stepped away from Monroe and unsheathed his sword, twirling it once with a loose flick of his wrist. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Sean took a deep breath. An archery contest was one thing, dueling with a Grimm was another. He might actually die.

He unsheathed his sword, and took his stance.

All he had to do was survive.

Simple.

He’d been doing that his entire life.

Nick darted forward and Sean almost didn’t bring his sword up in time to block his swing. Their blades locked. A tremor ran through his arms as his sword inched closer to his face.

“Come on,” Nick murmured. “You can do better than that.”

A ripple threatened at the corner of his face and he forced it back, back, breathed deep. It could not happen with a Grimm staring him down.

But maybe it could with this Grimm.

With a grunt he shoved Nick away and swung at his unprotected stomach. Steel clashed against steel, and Nick crowed, “That’s better!”

Another swing, another clash of blades. Over and over, and they fell into a rhythm with Nick leading Sean around the shore of the lake, his grin growing wider every time Sean deflected one of his blows.

"You're pretty good," Nick said, dancing away from the tip of his blade. "Are you a knight of some sort?"

"Of some sort." Sean took the chance to dry his palm on his pants and nodded at Nick. "You're better than good. The contestants won't stand a chance."

Nick ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "You think so?"

"Them? Yes." The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Me? No."

"Oh?!" Nick laughed, bright and sharp, and took his stance again. "Okay then."

He lunged forward. They locked swords and Nick twisted his wrist, and Sean’s sword wrenched out of his hand and fell to the ground with a thud. Nick pointed his sword at him. “I win.”

Sean whipped a dagger from his hip. “Not yet.”

Nick laughed again, and Sean graced him with a small grin. “You’re going to fight off a sword with a dagger?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Is that how you died?”

“Possibly.”

Nick shook his head, still huffing out soft chuckles under his breath as he dropped his sword to the ground and pulled out a dagger of his own from his hip. He waved Sean closer with it, and they started their dance anew, lunging and swiping and dodging.

The world narrowed to the warm hilt in his hand, to the flash of metal in Nick’s, to the pounding of his heart in his ears. One wrong move. All it would take was one wrong move, and that blade would end his life.

But that blade only kissed his skin with the gentlest of touches.

“You’re holding back,” Sean panted out.

Nick paused, his dagger poised to strike. “So are you.”

“Only because you are. I thought you said you weren’t going to go easy on me?”

“You really want to die that bad?”

Sean waved him closer. “Show me what a Grimm can do.”

He shrugged. “If you insist.”

Nick darted forward and was suddenly in his space. Sean jerked back, away, raising his blade - but Nick dropped low, sweeping his leg out and knocking Sean’s out from underneath him. His back met dirt, knocking the air out of his lungs. Nick straddled him before he could recover, shoving him back down when he surged against him and pressing the edge of his blade to his throat.

Sean went still.

Nick’s grin was all teeth. “Looks like I win again.”

That blade was too close. “Looks like it.”

He hummed and pressed his free hand to Sean’s chest. “What should I do with you?”

"I’m at your mercy."

"You are. I could do anything." Nick dragged his hand down, down, down to Sean's stomach, stopping with his palm right over his navel. Sean sucked in a short breath - the scent of aroused omega filled his nose, sent a spike of heat shooting through him. He cleared his throat quietly.

"You could," he said, his voice rough, and finally allowed himself to place his hands on Nick’s hips. His omega was a heavy weight on top of him, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to attempt to flip them over and pin him down while he still had a dagger to his throat.

"You know what would make my mother really angry?" Nick murmured with a sly little smile that begged to be bitten. He traced a line down Sean’s stomach to the waistband of his pants and hooked his fingers underneath, his knuckles brushing against sensitive flesh.

Sean squeezed his hips gently. "What?"

"If I came back smelling like you."

Chapter Text

Sean did not have a death wish.

In fact, he very much enjoyed being alive. He couldn't become king if he was dead.

But he couldn't become king without Nick, either.

So when Nick tossed the dagger to the side and leaned down to slot their mouths together Sean tangled his hand in his hair and held him there, sinking his teeth into that impish little grin. The groan that slipped free from Nick’s throat made a snarl rise in his, and he bucked and twisted to flip them over - but Nick shoved him down, caught his wrists and wrenched them up to pin them next to his head.

He stared up at Nick, whose grin nearly cracked his face in two as he cooed, “What’s wrong? Not alpha enough to pin an omega like me?”

The words seared through him, boiling his blood. 

So. Nick did need a firm hand.

He bucked hard. Yanked at his wrists. Planted his feet, pushed against the ground, and tried to roll them over.

Nick did not budge. His laugh rang through the clearing, loud in Sean’s burning ears.

Pinned.

By a fucking omega.

“That’s a good look on you,” Nick murmured, rocking his hips down against him.

An impending ripple itched under his skin and he breathed, breathed, slow and deep, forcing his woge back down. 

If he woged he could flip them.

But then Nick would see, would see him, and then the Grimm would kill him.

Except he might not.

No. Flipping them wasn’t worth ruining everything.

So he breathed, and said, “...Let go.”

“Why? Can’t fuck me without your hands?”

If he gritted his teeth any harder they might crack. He managed to unlock his jaw enough to spit out, “I could fuck you with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Shit,” Nick breathed. “Yeah, okay. Should we try that? I could use your belt.”

“What? No. I will not be restrained like an animal.”

“I guess you could just keep your hands where they are.” Nick lifted one brow, eying him as if measuring his worth. “You can fuck me like that, can't you?”

It took several deep breaths for Sean to find his voice, and he had to chew through the words, “Of course I can.”

“Then prove it.” Nick released his wrists, shifting back onto Sean’s thighs. He tore at Sean’s belt, pulling it free, pulling him free. The first touch of fingers against him pulled a groan from deep in Sean’s throat, and he reached down-

Nick grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand back down to the ground. “No hands.”

Sean sagged back into the dirt with a ragged breath. “Is this really necessary? You don’t want me to touch you?”

“I do…” Nick ran his finger along the side of his dick, feather-soft, and Sean flicked his tongue out to wet his lips. “I’ve thought about your hands all day. What they’d feel like, how big they are.”

He shivered and squirmed slightly on Sean’s lap, his breath hitching and his voice dropping low, “How your fingers would fit inside me.”

Sean could not have stopped himself from reaching out for him if he’d tried. He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tugged him down to crush their mouths together, sealing Nick’s moan between them. They were both panting when they parted again, and Sean did not let Nick go far, his hand still tangled in his shirt. “Have you been slick all day for me?”

“Yes,” Nick choked out, cheeks tingeing pink.

If he were a lesser man he would’ve ravished him right then and there and found out exactly how slick he was. But Sean was a prince, a future king, so he let go of Nick’s shirt to cup his cheek instead, brushing his thumb over it. “Then let me touch you.”

“Next time. Let me have this. Please?”

Next time.

Nick still had his pants on, and he wanted a next time.

“Next time,” Sean repeated quietly. “Next time, I pin you.”

Nick nodded with a soft hiccuping whine, squirming on his lap again. “Yes. If you can.”

Sean’s lips tugged down. “Is that a challenge?”

“Think of it more like a contest.”

“...To see who can pin who?”

“Sure, yes, whatever.” Nick gently squeezed his dick, and Sean bucked up lightly into his fist. “I won this time. So no hands.”

Sean bit back his sigh and let go of Nick completely to fold his hands behind his head. The beam it earned him nearly blasted him into the ground, and soothed the last of the heat bubbling in his veins.

Nick sat up on his knees and unbuckled his own belt, pulling it free and pushing his pants down just enough to bare himself. Sean’s fingers twitched against his head as Nick slid his hand between his thighs.

What he wouldn’t do to replace it with his own hand.

Next time he would.

Next time he wouldn’t let Nick use his hands.

The thighs around him squeezed, and Nick dug his fingers into Sean’s shirt, his breath coming out in soft pants. He squirmed again and pulled his hand from between his thighs, running his wet fingers over the head of Sean’s dick.

Sean bit out a curse and almost reached down, catching himself at the last moment and lacing his fingers together behind his head to keep them from moving. Nick smiled down at him and crooned, “Good boy.”

Heat flushed through him, centered around his ears as his stomach fluttered. “Excuse me?”

“You’re doing a good job.”

Again, the flutter, accompanied by a tightness in his chest. He shifted under the heavy weight above him, under the tangible gaze bearing down on him, his skin drawn too thin over his body. “Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?”

Nick just nodded with a hum, that smile still plastered to his face. He scooted forward, lined them up, and Sean let out a harsh breath as that wet heat slowly enveloped him.

Slick, he was so slick, and all because of him.

“Oh,” Nick panted out quietly, his thighs shaking slightly against Sean’s sides as he was filled and Sean nearly reached for him, nearly grabbed his hips and rolled them over and buried himself inside just to hear him make that noise again. Instead he breathed through his nose, deep, slow breaths, full lungfuls of that heady omega scent that ratched the coil of heat in his belly ever tighter.

Fuck.

He wasn’t going to last long.

He had to. He could not come early like an adolescent alpha during his first rut.

Nick rocked his hips, an experimental little twist that ripped a groan from both of their throats.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Sean huffed out a strained laugh. “Yeah?”

Nick braced his hands on his chest and lifted up, lowering himself back down with a shaky breath. He repeated the motion, and again, starting up a steady pace that had Sean flexing his hips up to meet him as best he could - and he could. He planted his feet on the ground and snapped his hips up, meeting Nick as he slid down and wrenching a yelp from his gasping mouth. Nick raised himself up, away - and Sean followed him, lifting his hips off of the ground to keep him filled.

That was better.

The hands on his chest moved to his hips, pushing them back to the ground. Sean bucked against them, but they held firm, kept him- kept him pinned. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” he ground out.

“You are fucking me.” Nick slid down over him, down, down, down, and Sean could not press up into him, could not fill him up when he pulled away, could not use his hands to pull them flush. His fingers dug into his scalp as his heels dug into the dirt, straining against the hold on them. Nick held him still, held him down.

The strength in the hands on him made him shiver - the Grimm could kill him if he wanted to. Could probably snap his neck without a second thought.

But Nick’s cheeks were flushed bright pink, his mouth hung open around gasping pants, his voice torn from him with each roll of his hips.

His Grimm wouldn’t kill him.

His knot might.

The tug of it swelling against his rim had Sean reaching down, grasping for his hips as Nick pulled off just enough for his knot to pop out. His wrists were caught immediately and pinned once more by his head - but his hips were freed, and he pressed his knot back into that tight wet heat where it belonged.

Nick let out the sweetest little whine and clenched around him. He pulled off again, slow, and Sean followed him, kept his knot inside, but Nick let go of one of his hands to shove his hips down again.

His knot popped out, and they both groaned.

“What are you doing?!” Sean gritted out and wrapped his freed hand around his hip to tug him back down. Omegas did not pull off of their alpha’s knot. It just didn’t happen. “Don’t pull off!”

Nick bore down against him until it pressed back in. A shudder wracked through him and he clenched around him again, tight and hot and perfect and Sean was going to fill him up and keep him locked on his knot forever. 

“Shit, that’s good…” Nick mumbled, his head dropping to rest on Sean’s shoulder.

Sean wrapped his arm around him, pinning him against his chest. His knot wasn’t fully formed yet, and if Nick kept pulling off it might finish swelling before it could lock them together. “It is. So keep it inside-”

Nick pulled off again. 

Sean bucked hard, twisting and shoving at Nick to flip them over and Nick laughed in his face and shoved him right back down, pinned his hands to the ground, pressed down on his knot until it pushed in and let out that sweet little whine again as he made a mess of their shirts.

The scent of his omega filled his nose, the tremors wracking the body resting heavy on top of him exquisite, so slick and perfect around him and then Nick pushed himself up with a shaky grin and pulled off, all the way off, until he slipped out and Sean surged against the hands holding him down, gasping out, “Wait-”

But Nick let go of him, one hand wrapping tight around the swell of his knot, his other hand lazily stroking him and he was going to come, the coil of heat in his belly ready to snap and Sean tucked him close with a rough noise, burying his face in his neck, in that scent as he spilled over his fist, fucking up into it with increasingly halting rolls of his hips.

“There you go,” Nick murmured into his ear. “Just like that.”

Sean shuddered as another wave of heat flushed through him, and adjusted his grip on his omega to keep him secure in his arms. But something was- wrong. He swallowed hard, and pulled back just enough to look between them.

He wasn’t inside.

“What the fuck…” he muttered. “Why would you do that?”

Nick huffed out a soft laugh. “To do this.”

He pulled his shirt up, baring the smooth expanse of his belly, and with that same impish little grin from before curling his lips up he smeared Sean’s seed over his skin, rubbing it in-

Vicious heat ripped through him, punching the air out of his lungs.

He could not force his woge back in time.

Chapter Text

Nick went rigid on top of him, freezing in place. His voice came out small as he said, “You- you’re…”

And then he was scrambling off of him, away, yanking at his pants to pull them up and Sean lurched forward, snatching at any part of Nick he could reach to reel him back in as he bit out, “No-”

“You’re fucking Wesen! Shit- I- we just-” Nick shoved at him hard but Sean held fast - the only perk to being woged. “Let go of me!”

“I’m still me,” he kept his voice low, soothing, as much as he could with his woge making it rough, “I’m like that Blutbad Monroe.”

That got Nick to stop thrashing. He stared at Sean, eyes wide, his chest heaving with every pant. “But you…”

“I’m still me,” he repeated, and risked loosening his grip, forcing his woge back down below the surface. “See? It’s just me.”

“I don’t even know you,” Nick spat, but did not move to get up again.

He could work with that. “Alright, let’s change that. What do you want to know?”

There was a moment of silence, and Sean took the opportunity to tuck himself away - the surge of adrenaline had made his knot start to shrink early, so the task wasn’t too difficult. Nick grimaced as he did and averted his gaze. “Why would you- with a Grimm?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might like you?”

“You don’t know me, either.”

“I know enough.”

Nick snorted. “You know that I can fight, just like every other Grimm.”

“And that you have a strong will. No one else would’ve stood up to your mother in the arena like that, nevermind another omega.”

“...She’s not that bad,” Nick muttered, studying him with a faint frown on his face. “You… actually like that about me?”

Nick’s odd, borderline alpha behavior was only a small inconvenience - Sean would have mated with an actual alpha if it meant securing his throne. And when it came down to it, his attitude would actually aid Sean’s goal.

They would have to work on what was expected in bed, though. Omegas did not pin alphas, Grimm or no. And they never pulled off of their alpha’s knot, even if it was to mark themselves with their seed.

Sean forced back a shiver at the thought and offered Nick a small smile. “We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Another moment of silence.

“I should kill you,” Nick finally mumbled, his voice cracking and broken.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. Coming back is a pain.” Nick’s frown deepened. Sean continued when he didn’t respond, “Not all Wesen are bad. Remember?”

“Well, yeah but- I- I…” He hunched in on himself, suddenly looking very small, a sharp contrast from the fierce image he'd presented before. Sean could not stop himself from curling around his omega, from tucking him in close, shushing him with soft murmurs when he struggled weakly until he stopped.

Nick buried his face in his hands, muffling his words, “My mother is going to fucking kill me.”

Sean smoothed his hand over his back. “I thought you wanted her to be angry.”

“Not- not that angry!” He let out a groan. “Fuck!”

"Your mother doesn't have to know."

“How would she not know?! She’ll smell you all over me! I just-” he pushed away from Sean’s chest with a click of his tongue and yanked his shirt up again, running his hand over his stomach with a hoarse, “Fuck… I just…”

Heat seared through Sean, and he had to swallow hard, and breathe, but again he could not stop himself, this time from reaching out to brush his fingers against his stomach. His hand was immediately smacked away, and Nick shoved his shirt back down with a scowl that was all for show. Nick might not have let him touch his stomach, but he was still on his lap. And he hadn’t killed him yet, hadn’t even drawn his blade. 

Nick was still interested.

He shouldn’t be. It went against everything Sean knew about Grimms, which admittedly wasn’t much. But Nick had also named his horse after a Wesen. If any Grimm could be interested in a Wesen, it would be one that did something like that. 

So Sean reached for his thigh instead and lightly rested his hand on the side of it. Nick did not push him away this time, and Sean rubbed his thumb in a gentle circle as he murmured, “Your mother won’t know I’m Wesen unless you tell her.”

She would smell his scent, but not even the leader of the Grimms could differentiate a Wesen from a human from scent alone.

At least, she shouldn’t be able to.

The real danger was not that he was Wesen, but that he had marked her heir. It wouldn’t matter that Nick had been the one to do it - he was meant to mate with Royalty, and Sean might have Royal blood in his veins but he would never be considered a candidate.

Except that Nick had shown no interest in any of the alphas presented to him, and then had smeared Sean’s seed into his skin and left him alive after witnessing his woge.

Sean had already won the tournament.

He just had to keep his head long enough to see it through and bring his prize home. Being hunted down was a very real threat, and not just from Nick’s mother - the competing alphas would start their own hunt the moment they realized another alpha had staked a claim on Nick, and the entire tournament would likely be put on hold until they found the culprit.

He might actually die. 

He might’ve just started a war.

The peace between the seven kingdoms was strenuous at best - they had called a truce for this, and there was an agreement that there would be no bad blood as long as the heirs competed without foul play. Obviously Eric had disregarded that immediately by using magic to pass the first trial, but so far none of the other Families had called him out on it and the truce held.

It would not hold when they found out his bastard half-brother had laid hands on the reason for the truce.

Sean had to be very careful with his next steps. If he could convince Nick he was worth defending he might have a chance at survival.

Nick had been quiet, and when he finally spoke his voice startled Sean slightly, “She’ll kill you if she finds out.”

His mother would kill him regardless of his Wesen blood. Sean gently squeezed Nick’s thigh. “Would you let her?”

Nick shrank back slightly as he shook his head. “I… I couldn’t… she’s my mother…”

“You stood up to her in the arena.”

“That’s different.”

“How? You make your own decisions, don’t you?” He shouldn’t, not as an omega, but Sean needed him to for this.

The words made Nick frown. “Of course.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

Nick looked at him with wide eyes. “What… I want…?”

Sean nodded, and after a moment Nick said, hushed and aching, “I want to run away. I want to stop hunting Wesen, and explore the world outside of our borders.”

Nick could not leave the festival. So he said, “But if you run you’ll start a war between all seven kingdoms. Are you alright with that?”

Nick heaved a sigh. “No. I know it doesn’t matter what I want. I know that. You don’t have to remind me.”

“But you packed your horse’s saddlebags to do it anyway.”

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to do it,” he mumbled. “I just… I don’t know what I was doing. Does it even matter? I’m still here, and one of those awful alphas is still going to become my mate.”

Sean picked over his words carefully, “You don’t have to mate with any of them.”

“Yes, I do. You know, because of the war and everything?”

“There’s another way.”

Nick snorted, his lips twisting up in a wry grin as if holding back laughter. “What, you think you could take their place?”

Sean nodded.

Nick did laugh then, but his chuckles faded when Sean just stared at him silently. “You- you’re serious? But you’re just a knight. You can’t compete in the tournament. And even if you could, we could never be mates. You’re Wesen.”

This was it. Nick might have taken his Wesen heritage seemingly in stride, but there was no telling how he’d react to his Royal blood.

“I’m not a knight,” Sean said quietly.

Nick’s eyes narrowed, and his head tilted to the side as he examined Sean. “What? But… you said…”

“I said I’m something like a knight,” he reminded him, and took a deep breath before continuing, “I’m a prince.”

Silence.

Then, “But… you’re Wesen…”

“I’m half-Wesen on my mother’s side. My father is the king of Kronenburg.”

Nick’s face went blank.

Fuck. 

Sean kept his voice low, “You don’t have to mate with them if you mate with me.”

“You’re one of them,” Nick whispered. “You’re one of those alphas who just want me for-”

He tore away from Sean with a rough noise, scrambling out of his lap and up to his feet. Sean couldn’t catch him this time, and surged up to chase after him as he stalked to his horse.

“No, Nick-”

Nick smacked his hand away when he managed to grab his shoulder, whirling on him with a snarled, “Don’t touch me!”

“It’s not what you think-”

“No? You just want to use me!”

He could feel his life, his crown, slipping between his fingers. Sean straightened his back and stared down his nose at Nick, lowering his voice to that rough tone that always forced omegas to obey, “Stop.”

Nick’s mouth clamped shut with an audible click, his eyes wide. He looked as if he’d just been slapped.

So he could obey like a proper omega. That would make everything much easier.  

Sean let out a slow breath, relaxing his posture now that he had his attention. Using that voice was an underhanded tactic, but he needed Nick to listen to him. “I’m giving you a choice. Be happy with me, or be miserable with one of them.”

“That’s not a choice,” Nick croaked, wrapping his arms around himself.

“It’s more than anything anyone else will give you. You were right when you said that the other heirs expect you to act like a proper omega. You will not last a day in their courts. Being a Grimm will make no difference - they will break you. But I can protect you from them. You can continue to be you as you please if you mate with me.”

Nick’s frown cut deep into his face, and his voice was weak as he asked, “What do you even want from me? What do you get out of this?”

“My crown. You will make me king.”

Nick snorted. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

Sean finally risked a step closer, but stopped when Nick retreated from him. “Would it be so bad? You will get what you wanted - you can stop hunting Wesen, and explore my kingdom. Kronenburg is beautiful this time of year.”

“How do you even plan to pull this off?! You’re already dead,” Nick spat. “My mother is going to kill you.” 

But apparently Nick himself wouldn’t. “Not if you don’t let her.”

“You expect me to stop her?”

“Would you rather be forced to mate with one of the other heirs?”

Nick huffed. “So I’m either forced to mate with one of them or forced to mate with you?”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself a moment ago.” Sean tilted his head and waved at Nick’s stomach. “I didn’t force you to mark yourself with my come.”

Nick’s cheeks flushed bright pink. “That-! That was a mistake!”

“Was it though?” Sean murmured. “You could try it again just to be sure. We could do it now, if you’d like.”

“No- I…” Nick shook his head, taking a quick step toward his horse. “I have to get back to the festival.”

“Back to your mother, who will be angry at you? Or back to the other alphas, who will be angry as well and will want to replace my scent with their own as soon as they can? They won’t easily forget that you let another alpha touch you, especially if you become their mate. Whoever wins will lock you up to keep you from doing it again. You’ll never step foot outside of their castle walls. Maybe not even out of your own bedchambers.”

Royals didn’t share. Alpha Royals even less so. Eric would go on a warpath the moment he smelled Sean on Nick - and he would know it was Sean. If Sean was lucky he’d want the glory of killing him for himself. Sean could easily best Eric in combat, magic or no. But if the other Royals joined in at the same time he’d lose his head for sure.

Unless Nick stopped them, too.

If he could instill enough fear into Nick he’d be more amenable to mating with him to get away from the other heirs. Nick did not have to like him for Sean to accomplish his goals - though that made everything easier, and he’d prefer that his mate didn’t hate him.

“What am I supposed to do then?” Nick finally asked after a long pause, sounding broken and lost. “I have to go back at some point. You said it yourself, I’ll start a war if I don’t.”

“Convince your mother to let me join the tournament. The other alphas won’t be happy about my admission, but it will give them a fair chance to compete against me for you and should stem any arguments for war.”

That wasn’t entirely true. They could easily refute his legitimacy for candidacy on many grounds and start a war based on that if he actually was allowed to compete, but it was the only way to potentially survive the tournament.

Nick snorted. “I’m good, but I’m not that good. My mother makes a decision and that’s the end of it.”

“I’m sure you have some sway over her.” An alpha Grimm with a soft spot for anyone was a strange thought, but if they had one it made sense that it would be for their omega offspring.

“I guess…”

“You wouldn’t have been allowed to ride out here alone after your stunt in the arena if you didn’t.”

Nick shuffled his feet and looked away. After a moment he mumbled, “I hate this.”

“I know. It’s only for a few days.”

“But then everything will change.”

“Yes. Living in the court will be an adjustment, but you can handle it, and I won’t ask much of you.”

“I can’t…” He took another step toward his horse. “I have to think.”

“Think here then, if you must. Otherwise make your decision now. The moment anyone smells you the hunt will begin. You’re either with me, or with them.”

Nick stared at him for a long moment, long enough that Sean almost spoke again. But then he released a heavy sigh and turned, digging through the saddlebags on his horse and pulling out a small pouch and something bulky wrapped in cloth. He raised them at Sean. “I suppose we should get to know each other, then. Hungry?”

Sean hadn’t eaten all day, and he likely wouldn’t get a chance anymore. He nodded slightly, and followed Nick to the shoreline of the lake. They settled side-by-side in the dirt, and Nick unwrapped the cloth to reveal a hunk of cheese and handed it to Sean, who broke off a piece for himself before handing it back.

Toads croaked and crickets chirped nearby. The arrival of dusk had mellowed the heat of the day, giving the air a crispness to it that caressed Sean’s cheeks. The water of the lake lapped at the shore by their feet, washing over smooth pebbles that glimmered in the fading light.

“So,” Nick said, breaking the silence that had descended between them. “You’re a… what, a Zauberbiest?”

Right to it, then.

Sean accepted the piece of dried meat offered to him from the pouch Nick had brought with a sigh. “Half-Zauberbiest.”

Nick hummed. “Do you have magic?”

“No. Not like my mother.” She had ensured that he knew how to brew a zaubertrank, but beyond that he was limited. But it was something Eric could never do - would never do - so the knowledge still gave him an advantage.

“Oh.” Nick chewed quietly for a moment, and then asked, “You’re from Kronenburg? Isn’t one of the alphas competing in the tournament from there, too?”

Sean gritted his teeth, and ground out, “Eric. My brother.”

“...Which one is he again…?”

Sean glanced at him, his brow raised. “He’s the one who blew a kiss to you in the archery contest.”

Nick laughed. “That one?! But you’re so… different?”

“Thank you.”

“I take it you don’t like him.”

“You won’t either, if he wins.”

Nick’s grin dropped. “But won’t I have to deal with him anyway if I’m your mate?”

“I wouldn’t let him near you,” Sean promised, his voice dropping low.

“...I don’t need you to protect me. I’m a Grimm. Fighting is what we do.”

“The court is a battleground you’ve never faced before. You won’t find victory there. But I was raised in it. I can keep them from tearing you apart.” Sean tilted his head and gestured at him with his food. “Just like you can keep them from tearing me apart during the tournament.”

“What do you expect me to do, fight them all off?”

Sean nodded. “If necessary. Show them you’re serious about your choice.”

Nick grumbled something into his next mouthful but otherwise didn’t respond. They ate in silence, and when the food was gone Nick stuffed the cloth into the pouch and picked up one of the pebbles at his feet, flinging it into the lake. Sean picked up his own pebble, but angled his wrist to skip it along the surface of the water instead.

“If I do this,” Nick finally said, “you become king, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t force me to- to be… different.”

“No.”

Nick flung another pebble into the lake. “But you’ll still want an heir.”

“Of course. A king needs an heir, and you will be my mate. I won’t take anyone else to bed to produce one.”

It wasn’t unheard of for kings to have multiple bed partners. Sean was the result of that. But his heir would come from Nick, not from an opportunistic court omega looking to raise their social status by taking Royal seed.

Nick sighed and leaned back on his hands, dropping his head back to look up at the sky. The position bared the pretty column of his throat, and Sean got the sudden urge to sink his teeth into it. “I really don’t have a choice, do I?”

Sean swallowed, his mouth dry. “Sure you do, if you feel like trying your luck with one of the other heirs. There are seven of them. But none of them will give you an offer like the one I’m presenting you with.”

Nick hummed but did not reply.

And then he abruptly whipped around to face the forest, pulling a dagger out of his boot with a hissed, “Someone’s coming.”

Sean pulled his own dagger from his boot as well as he scanned the treeline. Owls hooted, crickets chirped, toads croaked. Everything appeared the same as it had when he had last looked at it.

But then a figure cloaked in all black stepped out of the shadows of a tree. They pushed back their hood, revealing the woman that had stood beside Nick and his mother during the start of the tournament.

Nick let out a rough breath and tucked his dagger back into his boot. “Aunt Marie, I can explain.”

Chapter Text

Marie.

As in, Marie Kessler.

As in, the woman who had single-handedly butchered an entire pride of Manticores.

Marie’s face was a study in ferocity - all hard lines with a scar cut jagged across her jaw, her lips pursed tight, her gaze unforgiving.

“Nicholas,” she said, her firm voice like the crack of a whip through the silence between them. “Come.”

Nick scrambled up and shot to her side.

Sean almost went too, the order strong enough to make his muscles tense in preparation to do so. If he’d been a lesser alpha he would have bared his throat for her.

So this was an alpha Grimm.

She bent close to Nick, scented him, and turned back to Sean. Her glare could have boiled the lake behind him down to nothing with its intensity. “You.”

She unsheathed the sword at her hip.

Nick tucked in against her side before she could step forward, and she locked her arm around him without breaking eye contact with Sean as he said, “Aunt Marie, this is my mate. You can’t kill him.”

The urge to rip Nick out of the other alpha’s grasp was intense - but she wasn’t a rival, she was family, and hearing Nick call him his mate soothed Sean back down.

Fighting her would have been foolish, anyway. If he couldn’t beat Nick in combat when his omega wasn’t even trying, he wouldn’t be able to beat Marie.

The words made her look at Nick. “Mate? You’re mating with one of the Royal heirs competing in the tournament.”

“He is a Royal. He’s going to compete.”

“No. He’s going to die.”

Nick pressed their foreheads together with a soft whine. It was an appeasement tactic Sean had seen other omegas perform on alphas with varying success - apparently Nick did know how to act like one, when it suited him. 

“Don’t kill him,” Nick said. “Please? I like him.”

Marie let out a heavy sigh and dropped her arm from around him. “Nicky… stay here. This will be over soon.”

But Nick would not let her go, clutching at her and digging in his heels as she took a step toward Sean. “Don’t! I’ll run away if you kill him!”

“Then run. I will just find you again. I always do.” She shook out of his grasp, and Nick followed after her as she stalked over to Sean.

He’d faced death many times in his life. Had become good friends with it, in fact. Had even flirted with it once or twice.

This was different.

This was Marie Kessler.

She wasn’t just going to kill him.

She was going to wipe out any trace of his existence.

Her arm reared back.

All Sean had on him was his dagger - he couldn’t stop a sword with that much force behind it with such a short blade but it was better than nothing - and his muscles tensed in preparation.

The blow never came.

Nick was holding her arm in place.

“Nicholas,” she hissed. “Release me.”

He did.

Only to slit his wrists open on her blade.

Marie recoiled as blood spilled down the shining steel, dropping it to the ground as if burnt while Sean shot up from his crouch on the ground, his vision tunneling in on the scarlet dripping from the wounds on his omega’s wrists. They converged on Nick in tandem, each grabbing a wrist and snarling over it at the other.

“This is your fault,” Marie spat at Sean as she tore a strip from her shirt.

Sean did the same without comment, pressing the fabric to the wound. The bloody gash parting pale skin made his own blood boil in his veins - it shouldn’t have happened, he shouldn’t have let it happen, it would never happen again. The presence of another alpha beside him so close to his wounded omega made his hackles rise, and it was all he could do to breathe, to keep pressure on the wound, to force back the itch of his woge threatening under his skin.

He’d killed people for less.

“No,” Nick said to Marie, not even so much as wincing as his wounds were tended, “I did it to stop you.”

She clicked her tongue. “You only delayed his death.”

“Aunt Marie, please! I don’t want to mate with any of those alphas!”

A small frown replaced her scowl. “I know. But you will learn to accept it. Your mother and I will visit you often-”

“No!” Nick tore away from them, backing up as Sean and Marie both snatched at his arms. They managed to catch him before he could go far, and he struggled in their grip. “That’s not-!”

“Be still!” Marie snarled.

Nick stilled, but did not go quiet, “At least let him compete! Mother won’t let me do it, but she might let me pick someone to do it in my place. Then one of the heirs could kill him.”

“No.”

“But the heirs will be upset when they find out about what we did and will want a chance to kill him themselves. Let him fight tomorrow in the tournament. He won’t be able to beat all of them.”

Sean’s hands faltered as he wrapped Nick’s wrist with another piece of his shirt.

No, he wouldn’t.

Marie huffed. “They’re not going to find out about what you two did.”

“They will if I tell them.”

The two Grimms stared each other down for a long moment.

Marie was the first to break the stalemate with a heavy sigh and a shake of her head. “Nick…”

Nick tilted his chin up slightly. “Let him fight in my place. If I can’t compete, he will.”

“And if the heirs don’t kill him during the trial? What then?”

“Then he’s proven himself worthy of a Grimm,” Nick said simply. “I wouldn’t want to mate with anyone who couldn’t.”

Marie finished tending Nick’s wrist in silence, and when she was done she grabbed his other wrist from Sean and scrutinized it, testing the knot he’d tied with pursed lips. Sean resisted the urge to do the same with hers, standing still with his nails digging into his palms. She must have found his work at least somewhat satisfactory, because she muttered under her breath and pulled Nick into her arms, her voice firm as she said, “You will never do that again. Understood?”

“But-”

“No. Never.”

Nick nodded.

“If this… filth…” she cast a glance at Sean that could melt steel, “can last until tomorrow’s trial without being killed, I might be convinced to allow him to participate.”

“His name is Sean,” Nick said.

Marie cupped his cheek. “You’re supposed to say thank you.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

She released him to step between him and Sean, blocking him off with her smaller frame. “Get your horse. We’re leaving.”

Nick complied, collecting his sword and dagger from the ground nearby before untying his horse’s reins from the tree. He shot one last glance at Sean and then followed Marie, disappearing into the darkened forest.

Sean let out a long, heavy breath.

Fuck.

Now all he had to do was survive until the next trial.

Simple.

He couldn’t go back to the tent he’d been sharing with Eric - Eric would smell Nick on him, though his brother couldn’t have become familiar with Nick’s scent yet and might mistake it for one of the common whores working the festival. And it was late in the evening, now - most of the festival attendees would be sleeping off the wine they’d consumed during the feast or preparing for the next unannounced trial. If Nick didn’t encounter anyone other than his family for the rest of the night Sean might be able to slip undetected through the festival grounds and survive the night with his head on his shoulders. The hunt for his life wouldn’t be started yet unless Nick’s mother couldn’t be calmed like his aunt had.

But he should bathe in the lake before returning. He didn’t have soap, but there was dirt, and while the thought of covering Nick’s scent with dirt made him ache he enjoyed not having his throat slit while he slept.

If Nick bathed too Sean’s scent would lessen considerably, and could be covered completely if he used oils. That thought made a snarl tear across his face, and he forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. It would be a good thing if Nick did bathe - it would prolong Sean’s life expectancy.

It would also completely erase the need for him to compete in the tournament. If the other heirs didn’t want him dead they would have no reason to fight him. They would be confused and outraged at his admittance - seemingly out of nowhere, and for no apparent reason - and a war might break out if Nick’s family demanded that he join. Which they wouldn’t, because they wanted him dead.

Sean scrubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. He wouldn’t wash off Nick’s scent, then. It would fade by the time he joined the trial, but having the trace of it on him would ensure that the heirs knew exactly who to hunt down. 

Of course, that’s if Nick didn’t wash off his scent first. And if the heirs knew what Nick smelled like. 

They likely didn’t. None of them had been given a chance to get close to Nick like he had. And they wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let them.

This plan wasn’t coming together quite the way he had thought it would. There were too many ‘ifs’, too many holes. It certainly wasn’t one of his better plans, but he hadn’t had a lot of time to think everything through while Nick was trying to run from him.

Either way, he shouldn’t go back to the festival grounds while Nick still reeked of him. He could simply spend the night by the lake and return to the tent in the morning, though. It wasn’t terribly cold out, and the bugs weren’t eating him alive. He’d spent many nights under the stars. They were a blanket of comfort, their familiar twinkle soothing. He was far enough from the festival grounds that no one should bother him, and while Marie had been able to sneak up on them without him noticing Sean would catch anyone else.

So he gathered his sword and dagger and picked a spot that was relatively flat, removing the rocks from it before settling down on the ground. He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the constellations shining bright above, slowly letting the chirp of crickets seep the tension from his muscles.

It had been a long day.

Chapter Text

Sean woke before the sun rose, as he always did. The world was encased in a pre-dawn hush, the sky tinged gray with twilight, the animals that had sung him to sleep silent once more.

He wasn’t dead.

Nick’s mother hadn’t hunted him down during the night. Nor had anyone else. He still had all of his limbs, and his head was still attached to his body. It was nothing short of a miracle, if one believed in such things. Sean had stopped believing in the impossible when he was a very young child.

Becoming king didn’t count, despite the trials he’d have to go through to secure his crown. Sean was born to be king.

He stretched out the kinks in his shoulders and then moved through the motions of the solo exercises he knew, taking the time to work his muscles awake. He would need them today.

When a sweat had broken out over his skin he stopped. The sky was brightening, and it was time for him to return.

The path through the forest looked different on foot than it did on horseback, but Sean had always been a master at navigation and found the festival grounds before long. Attendees had already begun to emerge from their tents, slowly milling about as he crossed to the Royal Families’ camps on the far side of the field. 

Nobody stopped him. Sean held his head high, strode quickly, and did not give anyone the chance to do so.

The guards at the entrance of the tent he shared with Eric eyed him as he approached, but he passed through the flaps without incident. The inside was cloyingly warm compared to the brisk morning air, draping heavy on his flushed skin. A fire crackled in the middle of the tent, the smoke drifting out of a hole someone had formed in the top of the fabric. Eric stood beside the fire with an older woman, staring into a black cauldron that released violet smoke as she slowly added the petals of a silver flower.

He looked up the moment Sean entered, and the grin on his face twisted into a grimace. “You’re back. Have a nice night out, did we? Enjoy the stars? I tried saving a plate from the feast for you, but the dogs were hungry.”

Sean wouldn’t have eaten anything Eric gave him anyway. Being poisoned was inconvenient.

He stepped up to the cauldron and peered down at the bubbling purple liquid. It wasn’t a zaubertrank Sean was familiar with. “You’re using magic.”

“And you’re not going to tell anyone,” Eric said, and then wrinkled his nose, leaning slightly closer to Sean and scenting him. “So that’s where you were. Found a willing lay in the barn out back? Did one of the sheep spread its legs for you?”

Sean snarled at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him close. Eric just laughed in his face and said, “My, my, defensive over livestock. Don’t worry, I’m sure breeding another beast like you will cancel out the human in your children. They might even look better than you.”

He would kill him.

He would cut out his tongue, skin him alive, slice him open and fill him with hot coals until his voice gave out from screaming. And then Sean would keep going, pulling out his teeth and his nails one by one - but he’d leave his eyes, he’d leave his eyes so that the fucker could see Sean’s face as he died.

He would do none of those things, because Eric was the crown prince, and Sean could not touch him.

So Sean breathed, slow and deep, forced the itch of his woge back, and released Eric’s collar. The smug smile on Eric’s face made him grind his teeth, but he smoothed his hand over his shirt and stepped away.

Sean was a prince, a future king.

He would not lower himself to Eric’s level.

“Good boy,” Eric crooned.

Sean slammed his fist into his face.

The force of it sent Eric stumbling into the cauldron, knocking it over and spilling the contents across the ground with a solid thump. The old woman cried out, woging into a Hexenbiest and jerking her hand in a harsh wave. The liquid sucked back into the cauldron, which righted itself above the fire.

“I’ll have you flogged!” Eric spat, holding his nose as blood poured down his chin.

Which was Sean’s cue to leave. Eric could touch him, and would make good on his threat.

Sean quickly snatched the bag he’d left in the corner of the tent and made his escape just as the guards outside stepped in, hurrying down the path when Eric cried out behind him, “Get him!”

Sean broke out into a light jog, slowing down only when he was able to mingle with the growing crowd. He was taller than most of the attendees and couldn’t blend in as well as he’d prefer, but escaping from Eric’s guards was a skill he’d long-perfected and he only had to dodge around a few tents and duck under several drooping canopies to lose his pursuers.

Sean hiked his bag up higher on his shoulder as he let out a heavy sigh. 

That went well.

Neither of them had died or been seriously maimed, and Eric was still none-the-wiser of who he’d slept with. Sean still had some time before the hunt for his head began.

He found a quiet nook with relative privacy between a cluster of tents and made quick work of changing his clothes. Removing so much of Nick’s scent from him was physically painful, but tucking them in amongst his other possessions eased the ache.

He was just retying his bag when a blade pressed to his throat.

A woman spoke from behind him, “You’re coming with me.”

He slowly stood and the blade slipped away, only to poke into his back. She didn’t sound like Nick’s mother or Marie, and they would’ve killed him without hesitation. She wasn’t one of Eric’s guards, either - he didn’t employ women. One of the Families’ knights, then, perhaps from the Tyranskies.

The woman guided him to the far side of the festival grounds that he had not been to before. The crowd parted as they passed, startling away from them as though they’d seen a dragon. Sean caught a glimpse of black cloth over his shoulder as they rounded a tent.

Not a knight.

A Grimm.

A forest loomed before them, and still the woman pushed him on with her blade, delving into the treeline. The trees grew thick here, their trunks the color of ash, the sunlight barely breaking through the dense canopy above. The foliage clung to his boots, wrapped around his ankles, made every step a fight. A shadow dislodged itself from the rest - a deer, with the face of a man.

This was where he died.

But the woman did not slide her blade between his ribs, did not leave him to the beasts of this stretch of the wild. She kept guiding him onward, and soon the trees parted around a clearing.

There was a tent.

Unassuming, practical, it was nothing like the opulent displays of the Families. It was made of a darker fabric, blending in seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. A small plaque hung above the flaps with a symbol carved into it that Sean was not familiar with, but was otherwise bereft of any decoration.

The woman shoved him toward the tent and said, “Get in.”

He stepped into the tent.

Inside was dim, lit by softly glowing white rocks hanging from metal cages. A small table had been set up in the middle of the space, and Nick’s mother sat on the other side of it, Marie to her right and Nick to her left. One of her hands covered the hilt of a dagger resting on the table, the other was curved around the back of Nick’s neck.

Nick was subdued, silent, his lidded gaze locked on the table. He did not look up as Sean entered. He probably couldn't when he was scruffed like that. His wrists were hidden from view, but his wounds were likely wrapped in proper bandages now.

Seeing Nick so submissive under another alpha’s hand - even family - made Sean grind his teeth with the urge to cut the offending appendage off. Nick should only submit to him.

"So," Nick’s mother said after a long moment of studying Sean, "you're the vermin who touched my son."

Sean kept silent.

"He tells me you're his mate. That he wants you to participate in the tournament." She tilted her head toward Marie. "What is your verdict, Marie?"

"Unworthy," was the immediate curt answer.

"Unworthy," she repeated softly. "You are unworthy of laying eyes on him, and yet you put your filthy hands on him. What should I do with you?"

Marie grunted and crossed her arms. "Spit roast him. Feed him to the dogs."

Nick’s mother hummed. "Nick wants to give him to the Families to tear apart."

"Nick wants a lot of things."

"Yes.” She paused, pursing her lips. Her hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger. 

Sean tensed. So this was how he died. There were worse ways than a blade to the head. He could be spit roasted.

She did not throw the blade. Instead she sighed, and said, “But he is about to make a very big sacrifice that no other Kessler has ever had to make."

They spoke as if Nick wasn't even in the room with them. He might as well not be - he hadn't made any indication he'd heard them do so.

Sean was well-versed with alphas like that - his family was full of them, too.

“Kelly…” Marie said with a frown, finally looking away from Sean. “The plan. We agreed this was for the best.”

“The plan hasn’t changed.” Kelly pointed the dagger at Sean. "You. Boy. You will put on a good show for him. You will struggle. You will fight. You will lose."

Sean had no intention of losing.

"And if I do win?" he asked.

Her gaze could wilt the entire forest surrounding them. "You won't."

Chapter Text

Sean stared down at the spot he’d left his bag.

It was gone.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the pressure building there. It was inconvenient, but he’d been in worse situations.

He still had his coin pouch, and all of his blades. He would have to secure armor - if he even could. There was a line of merchant stalls set up on one end of the festival grounds, but the likelihood of one of them being a blacksmith was low. All of the Families would have brought their own supplies and servants. There would be no coin for a blacksmith to earn here.

Still, he had enough time to check, so he set off toward the stalls with one last glance at the spot that his bag had disappeared from.

No one else had accosted him since he was brought before Nick’s family, which meant that none of the Families had smelled his scent on Nick. He hadn’t been able to get close enough to him to determine if he had washed it off, but his family had likely made sure there wasn’t a trace of it left on him.

But they were going to allow him to fight in the next trial. The Families would be furious.

Sean had to win.

The stalls were already set up and open for the day, and customers milled about in front of them perusing their wares. Several sold roasted meat - hen, quail, rabbit - and the smell made his mouth water. He might not get another chance to eat for a long time.

The man selling the meat eyed him as he approached, clasping his hands with a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Sean might be a bastard, but he was still a prince, and his clothes were finer than all of the peasants that gaped at him as he passed.

“My lord!” the merchant crowed. “This is the best game in the market, caught fresh this morning. You’ll find no better anywhere else - except, of course, in your own kitchens, I’m sure.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect any less.” Sean pointed to a hen that looked bigger than the rest. “I’ll take that one.”

The hen was in his hands in seconds, and the merchant’s grin grew even wider as Sean tossed him a coin. He held it between both hands, bowing deeply as Sean turned and strode away.

The first bite was tough, chewy. It was food, though, and unlikely to be poisoned, so Sean finished it quickly before continuing down the path. The rest of the stalls were unremarkable - some sold baubles and trinkets, others sold traveling goods, but none sold armor. The merchants were here to pander to the crowd that had gathered to catch a glimpse of the Royal Families, not to serve them themselves.

They had likely set up long before any of the Families had set foot near the festival grounds, just as the crowd had likely been gathering for days, possibly even longer. Word had spread rapidly across the kingdoms of the impending festival once the messengers had appeared to announce that the Grimm matriarch had an omega heir she wished to find a worthy mate for. Nobody had ever seen an omega Grimm before - most people thought that they either couldn’t be born omegas or that they were killed as soon as they presented.

Everything had been put on hold for the festival - all of the feuds, the bad blood, the generational grudges - and a seven-way truce had been drawn up. None of the Families wanted to miss this opportunity. They had all been vying for control of the Grimm clan since they had stepped out of the shadows long ago. The story was one mothers whispered to their children at night - a dragon was terrorizing the land, setting it ablaze wherever it went. None of the knights or Hexenbiests could kill it or drive it away. Many died. The beast continued to feast and destroy, and all hope was lost until a single person cloaked in black appeared and slayed the dragon. But just as quickly as that person appeared they vanished, only to reappear when another monster attacked the land.

It was a child’s story. A single person could not slay a dragon, Grimm or no.

But the Families coveted that strength - if a single Grimm could slay a dragon, perhaps more could tame one.

Once the truce had been formed the only thing left to do was to set up the festival grounds itself. The Grimms had designated a location at the edge of the untamed wilds that only the bravest of hunters and knights seeking glory dared breach and never returned from. There were whispers that those were the Grimms’ lands, kept wild and untamed by their swords, but those stories had yet to be proven. It was likely enough, though, given that they had never been seen living in any of the kingdoms.

And so a troop of servants from Kronenburg had been sent out a week ahead of the rest of the caravan to ensure everything was ready for their king when he arrived, and it was likely the other kingdoms had done the same. The tents and stalls and structures had been in place by the time the festival grounds had appeared on the horizon, and they’d been greeted with a hot meal that put the one he’d just consumed to shame.

Sean continued his perusal of the small market, and by the time he was done the crowd had begun to disperse and the shops had begun to close as all of the attendees started making their way to the raised platform to hear what the second trial would be. Sean followed them, using his mass to his advantage to push ahead of the crowd and gain a spot at the front. Several people behind him cursed him for his height, but he had a clear, unobstructed view of Nick from this vantage point and he wasn’t moving.

Nick was wearing proper omega formal attire now instead of the sleek black tunic he had been donning the rest of the festival. Tiny precious gemstones had been woven throughout the deep midnight blue fabric, visible in the way they caught the sunlight. They glittered like stars in the night sky, condensing toward the high collar and fading out the further south the eye traveled. The sleeves came down to a slight point over the back of his hands, as was the current fashion, and he wore his polished boots over black pants that clung to his legs.

He looked stunning.

He looked miserable.

His face was a mask of displeasure, his mouth twisted into a sharp scowl, his brows furrowed deep. He kept shifting his weight and tugging at the collar, but he wouldn't be able to loosen it like that. Those outfits were laced in the back. Only a servant or their mate could release them from it.

The design was intentional. Omegas were kept dependent in every way.

The clothes had to have been a gift from Eric - Sean hadn’t seen the gifts chosen for Nick, but the style was one found in the Kronenburg courts. All of the Families had presented Nick with gifts when they had first arrived during their introductions to him. It had been a lavish display of wealth and power, though some of the kingdoms had more to give than others.

Sean himself hadn’t been able to give Nick anything yet. He’d have to rectify that soon.

Why he was actually wearing the clothes though was a mystery - unless it was meant to appease the Families before Sean entered the tournament. The outfit would also keep Nick from attempting to join the trial again. Those clothes didn’t allow for any type of practical movement. He was meant to be seen in them, not to fight in them.

Nick glanced down and their eyes met. His scowl deepened, and he quickly looked away.

Kelly raised her hand and the din quieted. The four heirs that had passed the first trial were lined up before the raised platform, and they all stood at attention as she spoke, “Today marks the second day of the tournament. Some of you passed the first trial, and will face another - this time you will duel each other. You have shown us you can shoot. Now show us you can fight.”

“Surely you don’t intend us to kill each other,” Hadrian called out.

She cast her gaze upon him, and said simply, “Try not to die.”

A soft murmur broke out over the crowd.

Kelly wasn’t done, “There will be an added twist to this trial. An addition to the tournament. The one who kills him will be allowed an advantage in the third trial.”

The murmur turned into a roar.

Sean winced as the entire crowd behind him shouted at once. The heirs were cutting their arms through the air, but whatever they were saying was drowned out by the utter chaos that had broken out in the field.

A horn bellowed, and the outrage slowly quieted.

Kelly seemed unperturbed by the response. She stared the heirs down, and said, “There will be no discussion about this. He is a target in the trial. If he is alive at the end of it, you have all failed. You fight not only each other, but to kill him.”

“So he’s not actually joining the tournament?” Eric asked.

“No.”

“Who is it?”

“Unimportant. But if you kill him, you may also sit with my son during the feast tonight in addition to the advantage you will receive in the third trial. You have until the sun is at its peak in the sky to prepare. Use your time wisely.”

That seemed to mollify them and the crowd, and the Grimms descended from the platform. The crowd parted as they passed, and while Sean tried to catch Nick’s eye his omega wouldn’t even glance his way.

Sean frowned. Nick might have called him his mate, might have saved his life and accepted that Sean was his best option for freedom, but he didn’t seem happy about it.

That was fine. He would learn to be happy.

Sean crossed the festival grounds once more to the spot in the forest where he and Nick had practiced shooting arrows. He still had some time before the trial began, and intended to use every second of it. His sword sang as it slid from its sheath, and he fell into the motions of the solo training exercises he knew.

He stopped when he broke out into a light sweat - he didn’t want to expend too much energy, just prepare his muscles for the coming fights. He resheathed his sword and wiped at his forehead, glancing up at the sky.

It was time.

The festival grounds were buzzing with energy when he arrived at the arena. It was infectious, made him twitchy, but he breathed slowly through his nose and forced himself to relax as he approached the heirs lined up at the far end. They were all wearing armor - some metal, some leather, depending on the preferences of their kingdom. Only the winners of the previous trial were there, however, but four opponents was more than enough to kill him.

They all glanced up as he joined them, silence replacing their stilted conversation.

Sean smiled faintly at them.

“You,” Eric growled, so low in his throat it must have hurt him to do it. He could barely get his words out, “Do not. Tell me. That you’re the target we’re meant to kill.”

Sean’s smile widened.

“You know this man?” Yvette asked, her voice thickly accented as it wrapped around Riev, the language spoken in Kronenburg that had become the common tongue several generations ago when the kingdom had risen to power.

Eric looked like he was either about to strangle him or combust into flames, so Sean answered for him, “We’re brothers.”

There was a collective sharp intake of air.

“Half-brothers,” Eric spat. “Barely related.”

“He can not be allowed to join,” Javier said, his voice also accented with a lilt. “Only firstborns may compete.”

Hadrian snorted. His words were free of an accent, “If he can compete, so can my brother. Might as well let our cousins join in - let the servants in too, while we’re at it.”

Eric let out a rough noise. “He’s not joining. He is just a target in the trial. Nothing more.”

“None of you have anything to worry about,” Yvette said, propping her hand up on her hip. “I will cut him down as soon as the trial begins, and then we can focus on the real trial. I do not mind taking the seat next to Nicholas for myself, if none of you should want it.”

All of the heirs rounded on her.

Before anyone could speak, however, someone cleared their throat behind Sean.

He glanced over his shoulder.

It was his father.

There was silence.

Frederick stepped forward, flicking his fingers in Sean’s direction. The guards beside him surrounded Sean instead, and the king looked at the heirs and smiled thinly. “Excuse us for a moment.”

Sean was marched away from the arena, behind where the Royal Families sat to where there was relative privacy. He was immediately shoved against a pole with a blade against his throat, and then Eric was snarling in his face. “You filthy half-breed! Useless cur! How dare you-”

“Eric,” Frederick said. “Step away.”

Eric slowly stepped back to his father’s side. Frederick grabbed him by the face the moment he was close, his fingers digging into his cheeks. “Kings do not taint their tongues with foul language. You will be king one day. Act like it.”

He released him, and cast his gaze upon Sean. “You. Speak.”

“Nick-”

“Do not speak his name!” Eric hissed.

Frederick flicked his fingers again, and two more guards dragged Eric a short distance away. Frederick nodded at Sean. “Continue.”

“Nick approached me. I gave him what he asked for.”

“I see. But how could he have approached you, if you were meant to be keeping your distance from him?”

Sean kept silent.

Frederick regarded him. “This is one of your mother’s tricks.”

“No.”

“Then one of yours. I always knew the biest in you would surface someday.” He tilted his head, folding his hands behind his back. “What was your plan? If you wished for a public execution I could have granted you that years ago.”

“I don’t plan to lose.”

“Ah. There it is. You have always been arrogant. Maybe this will finally teach you your place.” He smiled in a razor sharp press of lips. “Do not win. You will not like the outcome if Eric loses. I have worked too hard for this - you will not be the one to tear it all down.”

Sean returned his smile with one of his own. “If I won you would still have a son mated to the Grimm heir.”

Frederick hummed. “So that is your plan.”

“Better me than an heir from another kingdom.”

“Better Eric, still.”

“Eric does not have what it takes to be king.”

Frederick’s eyes narrowed, but he did not reply.

So Sean continued, “You would still have the Grimms tied to your line, one way or another. And Nick has already accepted me as his mate.”

The words made Frederick’s lips twist down, his entire face darkening. The guards holding Sean in place shifted slightly as he said, his voice low, “Foolish child. You did not touch him.”

Sean simply smiled wider.

“I should kill you where you stand. That boy is meant for Eric. Be glad Kelly wishes you to die in the trial instead, or I would see to your death myself.” Frederick snapped his fingers, and the blade at Sean’s throat disappeared. “Even should you win, I will ensure that you do not live past the night. Enjoy your last moments of life - think about the mistakes that have brought you here. You could have had a full life in my house.”

“I will win,” Sean promised. “And Nick will not let you or anyone else kill me after.”

That made Frederick pause, his foot turned to leave. He studied Sean again, and then asked, “You said he has accepted you as his mate?”

“He has.”

Frederick shook his head. “We shall see.”

And then Sean and Eric were alone. Sean quickly brushed past him, striding back to the rest of the heirs before Eric could try anything. Eric followed close at his heels, breathing down his neck the entire way, and shoved him aside to stand where he had before. The rest of the heirs studied Sean as if really seeing him for the first time, and Sean kept his head high and turned to the arena. The three heirs that had failed the first trial were sitting in their respective kingdom’s viewing areas, all of them with dark looks on their faces.

They did not have to wait long before they were allowed into the arena, and Sean filed in with them. Kelly did not spare him a glance as she stared down at them - and neither did Nick. He was busy whispering something to Marie that made her lips quirk up.

“You have met your target,” Kelly said, her voice booming across the arena. “Good. He is not your only challenge today - you will fight amongst yourselves as well. Should you be incapacitated you will be disqualified from tomorrow’s trial. Use the means at your disposal to do so to your opponent. The first duel shall be between the Nimier kingdom and the target. The rest of you may leave the arena.”

Oh.

Right to it, then.

Chapter Text

Sean studied Javier as they faced each other, drawing his sword and taking his stance. The alpha was exactly what one would expect an alpha to be - tall, broad shoulders, domineering presence. They were about even height, but Javier had bulk on him and was wearing thick leather armor. Sean had fought Nimiere knights before. Their fighting style was different from the one taught in Kronenburg, enough that it made predicting their movements difficult. It was fluid, as if they were dancing with their opponent instead of fighting them.

Javier grinned at him as he twirled his blade and said, “No hard feelings, but you will die. Do not worry. I will make it quick.”

Sean nodded. “No hard feelings when you lose.”

“Such confidence! You carry yourself well for a dead man.”

“Dead men can’t fight. I can.”

Javier barked out a laugh. “Pity! We might’ve been friends, had the circumstances been different.”

Sean didn’t have friends. He smiled slightly and nodded again.

And then Javier was darting forward, swiping his sword at Sean’s torso. Sean grunted as he blocked it, his feet sliding in the dirt from the force of the blow. Javier held the pressure against his blade, leaning close to grin in his face.

“I hope you truly can fight,” he said. “I do not expect to have much fun with the others.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Sean gritted out and slammed their heads together. Javier dropped back, the pressure on Sean’s blade lightening just enough for him to lift his leg and snap his foot out to catch it hard against Javier’s knee where the leather was thinnest.

The blow took the alpha down. The crowd roared.

He managed to knock Sean’s sword away with a foreign curse, swinging wildly enough that it forced Sean to back away. Javier quickly recovered, favoring his leg as he staggered to his feet. Good. One advantage to being a half-breed - Sean had strength that a human didn’t. He would be stronger if he woged, much stronger, but he wasn’t about to reveal his Wesen blood.

Javier pointed his sword at him and grunted out, “You have a steel foot.”

Sean nodded. “Lost it in the war.”

The words earned him a strained grin. “I would give you my condolences, but it seems you have an advantage.”

Sean spread out his hands. “I use only what I have.”

“Let me join you, then.”

Sean barely dodged the dagger thrown at him. It sliced through his tunic, cutting a hole in the side. Javier did not give him time to react beyond that - he threw another one, this one at his head, and Sean ducked under it before it could lodge in his eye. And then Javier himself was there, in front of him with his blade aimed for his heart. Sean twisted out of the way, the edge of that blade glancing across his chest as he snatched his own dagger from his hip and stabbed it into Javier’s side between the panels of his armor.

The arena went silent.

Javier stumbled away, his hand reaching up to grasp the hilt of the blade sticking out of his chest. His wounded knee gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, digging his sword into the dirt to keep himself upright. His eyes had gone wide, and a cough painted his lips bright red. The dagger Sean had stabbed him with was long, and wickedly curved - it had done damage.

But he wouldn’t die if he stopped fighting.

Sean strode forward and raised his sword to Javier’s neck. “Concede defeat. I don’t want to kill you.”

Javier chuckled, and it was a wet, wheezing sound. “Friends, indeed. I concede.”

Sean lowered his sword with a rough breath, and took several steps away from the other alpha before turning to face his audience. Nick had stopped fussing with his clothes, was all wide eyes and focused attention directed at Sean and only Sean. As it should be.

Sean smiled slightly, and lifted his sword into the air.

Kelly surged to her feet beside Nick, as did several members of the Royal Families. A howl broke out among the crowd behind Sean, echoed by shouts from the Families before him. A team of people in white garb rushed into the arena and surrounded Javier.

Kelly lifted her hand and the horn bellowed. The raucous ceased. Only the murmurs of the people tending to Javier and the alpha’s hisses filled the ensuing silence until Kelly spoke, “The next match will be between Gadbroll and the target.”

No time for rest then. That was fine - his chest stung slightly when he moved his arms, and his head ached where it had made contact with Javier’s, but otherwise he’d come out of the fight unscathed.

Hadrian strode into the arena as Javier was escorted off, and Sean frowned after him. He didn’t get his dagger back. But he had a new threat to face now, so he turned to assess the alpha before him as he readied his blade again.

Hadrian was nothing like Javier. He was short, shorter than Nick, his muscles hugging his bones as if he didn’t eat enough, his frame almost delicate in its composition. Frankly, he looked like he should have been an omega and that his family had decided otherwise for him. He didn’t look like he had ever been in a battle, much less knew how to hold a sword. If it weren’t for the magic that was said to flow through Klinnheim veins, Sean would consider this fight an easy win.

He was wearing fine, light leather armor that barely covered his body, and holding a sword that suited him well with its slight blade. The stance he took was not one Sean was familiar with - he had never fought anyone from Gadbroll before.

It didn't matter. Hadrian would fall, just as Javier had.

Hadrian did not speak, simply stalked forward with his blade at the ready. Sean easily dodged his first swipe, and his second, and met him on the third-

The blow ripped his sword from his grasp, and it skidded away across the arena.

His arms sang from the vibration of it, and he backed away toward his blade as he flexed his hands. That was no ordinary sword.

“That’s a nice sword you’ve got there,” Sean said, loud enough to be heard over the cheering crowd. “What’s the spell on it?”

The words did not have the desired effect. Instead of halting the match and disqualifying Hadrian, Kelly remained silent. Sean was left scrambling out of reach from another swing, the attack driving him away from his sword. Hadrian stepped between him and his blade, and Sean pulled a dagger from his boot to replace it.

The alpha came at him again, did not let him gain any distance as he darted forward, his sword singing through the air. Sean sidestepped it and tucked in close to Hadrian as his momentum carried him forward, grabbing his wrist and cracking it with a sharp twist.

Hadrian cried out. The blade dropped from his hand.

Sean kicked it away and kept Hadrian close, his dagger pressed firm to his throat.

The crowd went silent once more.

“Yield," Sean said, "and I won’t slit your throat.”

Hadrian spat in his face.

Sean grimaced, but did not release him to wipe his face clean. “Is that how Gadbroll’s future king handles defeat? Such disgrace.”

Hadrian’s lips thinned, and he snarled, “Release me.”

“I will, once you yield.” There was movement at the corner of his eye - Hadrian’s other hand, and Sean said, “Move and you die.”

“You wouldn’t kill me. You would never make it out of here alive.”

“Try me.” Sean pressed his blade harder against the vulnerable stretch of flesh before him. A trickle of red dripped down Hadrian’s throat. “I might die either way, but you don’t have to come with me.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Hadrian muttered, “I yield.”

Sean shoved him away, and stooped down to pick up Hadrian’s sword, stashing his dagger back into his boot as he did so. The sword hummed in his hand, warmed his skin - it felt right, like it belonged there. He did not give it back, and instead wiped his face clean before turning back to his waiting audience. Nick was perched on the edge of his seat now, his hands crimping the hem of his tunic.

Sean raised the stolen blade above his head.

There was another howl of outrage from all in attendance, ringing loud in his ears and making the throb in his head grow steadily worse, but he could barely hear it over the pounding of his heart beating in his ears as the faintest smile ghosted about Nick’s lips. It was all he could do not to leap over the gate between them to sink his teeth into it.

Kelly stood, the movement dragging his gaze away from his omega. Her face was darkly thunderous, and she raised her hand once more. The horn bellowed, the cacophony quieted, and she growled out, “I am disappointed. I thought the alphas presented to my heir were more than capable of taking down one man. Obviously this nobody is made of stronger stock than the land’s future kings.”

The words made a murmur break out amongst the Families sitting in attendance. One of the leaders - the merchant queen of Plaverton, Cyrene Drayson - called out, “The heirs are meant to test their strengths against one another, not this… nobody, as you said. You say that he is not part of the trial, and yet at this rate he will be the only one passing on to the third day. Should we not let the others have a chance?”

It did not make sense for Queen Cyrene to speak up - her son had failed the first trial. Unless she intended to attempt to influence the outcome of the tournament in her favor by supporting one of the heirs still competing. A bold move, for a kingdom that had built its prosperity in neutrality. She could, of course, simply be intending to cause as much havoc as she could by fostering animosity between future kings born out of a lost fight in the trial. Wars between the kingdoms made Plaverton rich as kings sought to stock their armies with the ore flowing from their mines.

Nimier had tried to conquer them and take the mines for their own, before Sean’s father had become king. The rest of the kingdoms had stepped in to help fight them off, unwilling to let their already substantial army swell with the newfound resources. The war had been long, bloody, and devastating to all involved, and a peace treaty had been written such that so long as Plaverton did not form any alliances they would own their land in peace.

Kelly opened her mouth, but before she could speak a man - the warrior king of Nimier, Sylvain Rouss - called out, “The fights against the target should not determine our heir’s eligibility to proceed! Javier can still fight. My healers will have him fixed up and ready before the end of the trial. He should be able to face a proper opponent.”

Kelly dragged her hand over her face. “Then who will kill him?! Is it your wish that he participates in the third trial?”

There was another murmur as the Families spoke amongst themselves.

It was Sean’s own father that spoke up next, “He has already defeated two opponents. Let him advance - he can die in the next trial.”

Sean’s eyes widened.

His father was supporting him.

No. He just didn’t want Eric to be killed by his bastard half-brother - which Sean would do - and likely didn’t believe Yvette could kill Sean herself. He was protecting Eric.

That’s all it was.

Still, Sean could use that. If he didn’t have to fight two more opponents he would be better prepared to fight off whatever tried to kill him during the night, as well as better prepared for the next day’s trial.

The arena had been silent, but then Hadrian shook off the nurses tending him and strode forward, saying, “He can’t compete! He’s Eric Renard’s brother! That skews the competition in Kronenburg’s favor!”

Shit.

Kelly’s gaze snapped to Sean, her eyes narrowed. The crowd behind him was howling, the Families were shouting, and they did not heed the bellow of the horn this time. The other heirs were climbing into the arena now, heading for Sean, drawing their swords, and Sean let out a rough breath and raised his blade, dropping into his stance.

So this was it.

Hadrian was closest to him, and was approaching him with a dagger in his uninjured hand. Sean waited until he was close-

And then Nick stalked past him and slammed his fist into Hadrian’s face.

Hadrian collapsed onto the ground and did not move.

There was complete, utter silence.

It was broken by Kelly snarling, “Nicholas.”

Nick turned to face her. There was a tear in the shoulder of his right sleeve - the seam must have ripped open when he punched Hadrian. He didn’t seem to notice it, staring down his mother with his fists clenched tight and his own snarl.

“Sean is going to compete in tomorrow’s trial,” he declared, his voice echoing over the arena. “Anyone who has a problem with that can fight me themselves.”

A slow smile spread across Sean’s lips.

Nick was going to make him king.

Chapter Text

“Sean?” Yvette asked Nick from where she stood in the arena nearby, glancing between him and Sean. “You know this man?”

Nick shrugged. “Not really.”

“Then why defend him?” She took a step closer and Nick bristled, pulling his sword from its sheath and dropping into a fighting stance. She backed off and held up her hands, saying, “I will not fight you.”

Eric scoffed from his place next to Yvette. “He’s not worth your time, Nicholas. You deserve a king. He will never sit on the throne.”

Nick snorted. “Neither will you.”

“Excuse me?”

“What is the meaning of this?!” King Sylvain shouted. “Why were two of King Frederick’s sons allowed to compete?!”

“He is not competing!” Kelly replied. “He was a target who your son failed to kill!”

“I demand a rematch! He must have cheated!”

“You accuse my son of cheating?!” Frederick snarled. “He was fighting for his life! Your son was not. If you want a rematch between our sons Javier will have to earn it by moving on to the next trial with Sean.”

“He is not moving on to the next trial!” Kelly cried.

“Then do you intend to drag this trial out incessantly? Sean has nary a scratch, and left his opponents unable to fight without magical healing. If Javier receives his rematch in this trial then I should call that cheating.”

King Sylvain scoffed. “That is what you call cheating?! You have two sons in the tournament!”

“No, I have one son competing and one son being used as cattle for the slaughter. I did not bring Sean here to die, and yet the Grimms used him as a target for their bloodsport,” Frederick said, as if he actually cared for Sean’s life. “All I ask is that in return for this transgression against my family, Sean moves on to the next trial. He earned it.”

“Transgression?! You did not attempt to stop the trial. Were you truly concerned for your son’s life you would have spoken up. Perhaps this was your plan all along-”

“Careful where you throw stones, Sylvain,” Frederick said. “You might hit yourself. I have no doubt if it were your son- oh, forgive me, you do not have another alpha heir, do you? You should thank Sean, then, for not killing Javier when he had the chance.”

The two kings stared each other down with matching snarls. Sean adjusted his grip on his sword, his palm slick with sweat. 

His father was arguing in his favor.

His father wanted him to compete.

Perhaps Nick’s display had managed to convince him that Sean was his mate, and his father had decided to support him instead of Eric.

No, that wasn’t what he was doing. Frederick was attempting to save face. King Sylvain’s accusations could incite a war, and as much as Frederick might want Eric to win, he wanted a war even less.

Even if that meant defending Sean, and vying for him to compete in the next trial.

The silence stretched until Queen Cyrene stepped forward, declaring, “Well? Let us untangle this mess then. King Frederick, as it is your son we are discussing, you will understand that we ask you not to join in.”

“Of course. I am sure you will reach an agreeable decision.”

The six leaders congregated in a small semi-circle around Kelly and Marie, their hushed whispers the only noise in the silence hanging heavy over the arena. There was a pause in the whispers, and then Kelly nodded, and the leaders returned to their seats. Kelly turned to the heirs again, her face drawn taut as she said, “We have reached an agreement. Sean shall proceed to the next trial.”

Sean’s eyes narrowed as the heirs around him protested. They had agreed to that too quickly, too easily - they were planning something.

“For now, though,” Kelly continued, heedless of the protests, “you still have a fight to win. Rotsengard and Kronenburg will face each other next.”

“Which brother from Kronenburg?” Yvette asked dryly.

“The crown prince,” she bit out.

Sean stopped to collect his sword as he left the field, making his way back to the side of the arena where he had waited at the start of the trial. Hadrian was carried off by fussing nurses, and Nick went back to his seat again. Yvette and Eric faced each other, and Sean took the opportunity to quickly study his new sword.

There were foreign symbols etched into the steel - if it was steel. The blade wasn’t like any steel he had ever seen. It shone ever-so-slightly as if lit from the inside, with a gold tint to its edge. The blade was thinner than the ones generally forged in Kronenburg, but it had proven itself stronger, and the edge was wickedly sharp.

There was a cheer from the crowd. He glanced up. One of Eric’s shoulder pauldrons had been cut free.

Sean turned his attention back to the sword in his grasp. He needed a place to strap it. With a few quick adjustments he had it secured to his belt, which wasn’t ideal but would work for the time being. It would just have to hang bare until he could acquire a sheath for it. With that taken care of he flicked his gaze back up to the fight, just as the crowd roared.

Eric had Yvette on her knees with his blade to her throat.

Sean frowned. That shouldn’t have happened, even with magic. Eric was not a fighter, had never practiced his bladework. Yvette should have subdued him with ease.

And yet she hadn’t, and that meant that Eric would move on to the next trial with him.

Someone approached him from behind, their gait uneven. “Your brother didn’t look like he could fight, but I suppose we all have it hidden in us somewhere, eh?”

Sean spared Javier a quick glance. “I suppose. How’s your side?”

He grinned, and patted Sean on the shoulder roughly. “Good enough to fight! That blade of yours is a pretty thing. Thought I’d give it back, if you still lived.”

His dagger was held out to him. Sean took it and slid it back into place, murmuring his thanks.

“I see you’ve found yourself a new sword! That’s also a mighty pretty blade. See the way it glows! It’s magic, no? Where did you get such a thing?”

“Hadrian.”

Javier’s face went dark. “I suspected the Klinnheims would pull such a stunt. More respect to you that you survived it.”

“He didn’t know how to use it. In your hands I might’ve actually died.”

Javier laughed, loud and rough and right in Sean’s ear. He slapped Sean on the back and cried, “Good man! Let us drink together after this. We have brought our own wine from Nimier - it goes down much smoother than anything you’ve ever had before. I will have you drunk and spilling your secrets before you know what hit you.”

Forging an alliance with the heir to the Nimier kingdom would be incredibly beneficial to his future reign. His father had never managed to forge an alliance with them and doing so would further persuade him that Sean should be the one to ascend the throne.

Sean smiled slightly. “I can hold my drink like I can hold my sword. It’ll be you that spills your secrets.”

Javier’s grin grew wider. “I will hold you to that.”

Hadrian joined them then, his wrist bare of bandages. It must have been broken - but magic must have knitted it back together. His throat was uncut as well and clean of blood. His nose was slightly crooked, however, when it hadn’t been before. He scowled at Sean and gestured at his sword, spitting out, “Give me my sword.”

Javier leaned over Sean to say, his voice full of venom, “He has graciously offered to hold onto it during your fight, knowing you would be disqualified for using magic. You should thank him.”

Hadrian gaped at him slightly, but Javier waved his hand between him and Sean and said, “Well? Thank him!”

“...Thank… you?” Hadrian whispered.

Sean almost snorted. “Of course. My pleasure.”

Javier patted Sean on the shoulder again as Eric and Yvette rejoined them.

“You two are up,” Yvette muttered, slamming her shoulder into Sean’s as she passed. Javier frowned at her but left with Hadrian, who grabbed a sword from a knight standing guard nearby before entering the arena. And then Sean was alone with the fuming princess and Eric, who was somewhere between gloat mode and his own brand of fury.

“Don’t think you’ve accomplished anything,” Eric spat at Sean. “You will die in the next trial. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You have to be able to hold a sword to do that,” Sean said.

“Did you not watch the fight? I could have taken down Javier and Hadrian myself, you just proved their weakness. I could have taken down all six of the other heirs at once - something you could never do. Don’t-” He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, and then uttered, very quietly, “Wait. Nicholas knows you.”

“Yes?”

“That scent. This morning. The sheep. You did not. You did not lay with him.”

Sean’s lips twitched up.

“What?” Yvette hissed, stomping close to snarl in his face just as Eric did the same. “You’ve bedded Nicholas?”

Eric grabbed the front of his shirt, raising his fist to strike. “You are dead-”

There was a commotion in the arena, loud enough that it managed to stop Eric and make him turn to look.

It was Nick. He was trying to climb over the gate again, his gaze locked on Sean where he was being accosted. Both Kelly and Marie were bodily dragging him back, but couldn’t manage to get him to stay in his seat. Javier and Hadrian had stopped fighting, and all of the attendees watching them had turned to look at the trio at the edge of the arena.

Eric released Sean, and stepped away from him with Yvette. Nick sat back in his chair, subdued but still watching them, and Kelly jerked her hand in a wave at Javier and Hadrian who quickly resumed their fight.

Eric let out a rough noise. “What have you done?! You’ve ruined everything, like you always do!”

That was a bit unfair. Sean had never gotten a chance to ruin Eric’s plans on this scale before. Everything he’d done up until now had been pointless in comparison. “All I did was treat him kindly.”

Eric’s hands rose as if to strangle Sean. “You weren’t supposed to get close enough to him to do that! You weren’t supposed to be here in the first place!”

“I do not understand,” Yvette snarled, her own hand resting on the pommel of her sword. “If you knew he would do something like this then why was he allowed to come?”

“I didn’t bring him! My father did!” Eric cried. “I never would have let him leave the castle walls!”

“And yet, here we are,” Sean said softly. “Kill me, and Nick will hunt you down. You have no choice but to accept that I am participating in tomorrow’s trial.”

“I hope it kills you,” Yvette spat. “I hope whatever it is turns your insides out.”

Eric huffed. “You and me both.”

They settled into a tense silence, turning back to the fight just as Javier raised his sword in the air with Hadrian slowly standing up from the ground beside him. The crowd cheered and Kelly waved Sean and the rest of the heirs back over into the arena.

“The winners are clear,” she said when they stood before her. “Javier, Eric, and…”

“Sean,” Sean said.

Her lip curled. “Right.”

“What?!” Hadrian cried. “Sean can’t compete!”

Kelly scowled at him. “The kingdoms’ leaders and I have agreed that he will be allowed into the next trial.”

“But… but then there will be two heirs competing from the Kronenburg kingdom! If Javier doesn’t win then it won’t matter who does, because the winner will still be from Kronenburg!”

“If you had killed him, this wouldn’t have happened,” she bit out, but sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again and glaring down at them. “Fine. There will be one more fight. Rotsengard and Gadbroll. The winner will proceed to the next trial.”

And so once more Sean left the arena, but this time Javier was standing between him and Eric, blocking him from doing anything.

Javier leaned over to Sean, too close to be comfortable as he muttered into his ear, “It seems we will be competing against each other once more. I look forward to our rematch.”

Sean just hummed and shifted away a step. 

There was no competition between the two in the arena. Yvette had Hadrian on the ground again within moments - but Hadrian had already taken a beating before fighting her. There was no telling who would have won had he been fresh and wielding his magical sword.

No, there was. Yvette still would’ve won. Hadrian was no fighter.

With that defeat Sean and the heirs were gathered together again, and Kelly stared them down one-by-one. Hearing no further complaints, she nodded and said, her voice curt, “The festivities continue this evening. There will be another feast, and the winners will have the opportunity to dance with my son. Since none of you managed to kill the target, however, none of you have earned the right to sit with him.”

Sean cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I could sit with him.”

If looks could kill, the one Kelly was giving him now would be the one to do it. But he didn’t die, so he continued to stare up at her while the heirs protested around him.

“Why,” she snarled, “would that even be a consideration?”

“I didn’t die.”

“So I’m supposed to reward you?”

“I think I’ve proven myself worthy of it.”

She snorted. “You have earned a place in the next trial, and another day of life. Be happy with what you’ve been given.”

“I want him to sit with me,” Nick said from his spot behind her. Sean’s gaze darted to him, but he was looking at his mother. Still, he had just reinforced his preference for Sean in front of the rival alphas, and it loosened the knot of tension wound tight in his stomach.

Kelly let out a heavy sigh. “Nicholas.”

Nick huffed. “I’m just going to go sit next to him if he doesn’t-”

“Silence!”

Marie stood up and stepped close to Kelly’s side, and they murmured together for a long moment. Sean kept his gaze on them as the other heirs glared at him, keeping his stance relaxed and loose under the weight of their ire.

Finally, Kelly turned back to him and said, “Fine. You will sit with him.”

The heirs cried out in protest again, but she raised her hand and continued, “You had your chance and you failed. Let this be motivation for a better performance tomorrow.”

With that she turned to leave, and the rest of the crowd took that as their cue to disperse. Javier grumbled under his breath beside Sean but patted him on the shoulder, leaving his hand there as he offered him a strained grin. “It seems we will have to postpone our drinks.”

“So it seems.”

“Do not think you can escape me, though. We will have our night, and you will spill your secrets.” He squeezed Sean’s shoulder and then let him go, retreating to his family’s side.

Sean sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. This plan wasn’t working out quite how he’d imagined it, and yet, it was working. Nick had fallen into place beautifully. The crown would be his - if he could win the third trial. There was no telling what it would be.

“My sword,” someone spat from behind him.

He turned. Hadrian was standing with one hand out, as if he actually expected Sean to give him his sword back. Sean raised a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m only carrying my swords.”

Hadrian’s scowl deepened. “You can’t have it-”

“Hadrian!” a woman bellowed from the edge of the field. It was the queen of Gadbroll, and she beckoned Hadrian to her with a curt two-fingered wave. 

Hadrian let out a strangled noise and glanced between his mother and Sean, before saying, “This isn’t over.”

And then he, too, was gone.

Before Sean could go far, however, he was stopped by armed guards. Frederick followed, tailed by Eric, and he eyed Sean with pursed lips.

“You can’t represent the Kronenburg kingdom tonight looking like that,” he said after a long moment, and turned in the direction of their tents. “Come.”

Sean was escorted across the festival grounds and into the largest tent in the field. Eric did not join them, slipping away to disappear into his own tent when Frederick admonished him to get ready for the feast as well.

The inside of his father’s tent was overly opulent, as if Frederick had brought one of the rooms of the castle with him. A chandelier hung from one of the support beams, the light from the lit candles adorning it casting dancing shadows on the crimson fabric draped over them. Polished wood shone under the light, the large table dominating the center of the tent with chairs fit for the Royal feasting hall tucked against it. The table must have taken a wagon of its own to bring to the festival grounds - it was a display of wealth where few would see it.

“You spared no expense,” Sean said.

Frederick shot him a tight smile. “All of the kingdoms’ leaders are here. I must be prepared to entertain. King Arseni has already come to visit.”

Arseni was the king of Rotsengard. He must have come when Sean was at the lake - he was not known for his subtlety, and Sean would have heard of his arrival much sooner had he lingered in the camp.

A small, mousy woman slipped into the tent, and bowed low. Frederick flicked his hand at Sean, saying, “Get on with it.”

She popped back up and approached Sean with a long string in hand, and proceeded to measure his arms, torso, and legs. Another woman stepped in while she was doing so, and she brought with her several outfits - all Eric’s, which would be too small on him without alterations. The outfits were pressed against his front, and Frederick rejected all but one of them, finally nodding and saying, “That one. Have it ready before the feast.”

The two women nodded and scurried away.

A man had been filling the large basin at the side of the tent with steaming water as the women had worked, and Frederick waved Sean to it now. “Bathe.”

So Sean slipped behind the screen set up to section off the bathing portion of the tent, pulling it slightly to the side to further block the view of the basin before disrobing. He folded his torn and muddied clothes and set them in a pile just beside the screen where a servant could retrieve them. His weapons were placed on the ground close enough to grab if he needed them, and then he turned his attention to the basin. The water was still steaming, and he ran his hand through it first. Hot, but bearable. 

Sinking into it was bliss, and he could not stop the soft sigh from escaping his lips. He hadn’t properly bathed in too long - he hadn’t been able to do much during the trip to the festival grounds besides rinse off in the creeks and rivers they had passed. The quick scrub he had given himself the day before in the shallow water basin in Eric’s tent was nothing like sinking into a full-sized one filled with hot water. It made the cut on his chest sting, but it also made every single muscle in his body melt, and he took a moment to just sit there and soak.

He did not rest for long, aware of his father moving about the tent talking in low voices with someone and the way the water had begun to lose some of its heat. There was a rag folded on the stool beside the basin, next to a small bar of soap and a bottle full of an ochre liquid. Sean grabbed the rag and soap and gave himself a good once-over, scrubbing away the dirt and grime and sweat before reaching for the bottle. The liquid was slightly opaque, clinging to the sides of the glass when he tilted it, and when he pulled the cork out it released no scent.

An oil meant to enhance an alpha’s natural musk, then. They were not uncommon in Kronenburg, though the ones used most widely in the court were refined and actually worked. The one in his hand was likely the best coin could buy.

Sean had never had any issues attracting omegas - they all complimented his scent without the use of such supplements. But it was being offered, and he was among rivals of high standing who would be using their own tricks to catch Nick’s attention, so he poured some into his hand and spread it over his neck and wrists where his scent glands were before putting it back.

So much for bathing in a lake using mud to cover his scent. The night before felt like an eternity ago, like it had happened to someone else. But he still had the rest of the night and one more day to go before he could return with his prize and claim his rightful place on the throne.

With a soft sigh he heaved himself back out of the basin. A rag had been draped over the screen along with a pair of pants, and he dried himself quickly and donned the new clothes. He could not equip all of his weapons in his current state of undress, so he settled for strapping his sword to his hips and leaving the rest where they lay. Pulling back the screen revealed his father speaking with an aging woman at the table, who both turned to him as he approached. Frederick waved him closer, closer, close enough to scent, and hummed after he did and waved him away with a curt, “Good. You used the oil. Priscilla will tend to your wound.”

Priscilla made him sit in one of the chairs at the table while she examined the cut on his chest. She tutted softly under her breath and pulled a jar out of the bag she had set on the table, but before she could open it Frederick spoke up, “Will that make him stink?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

The jar was opened, and she scooped a thin green paste out of it with her fingers. The paste was smeared gently into his wound, and Sean bit his tongue and clenched his hands into his pants to keep from flinching. The sting quickly disappeared, however, and was replaced by an icy numbness that chased away the warmth the water had infused into his skin. Priscilla let the paste sit for a few long, cold moments, and then wiped it off with a balled up rag.

Sean glanced down at his chest. There wasn’t even a mark.

Priscilla left and Sean waved toward his weapons still lying by the bath, saying, “I have a new sword. I will need a sheath for it.”

“Show me,” Frederick said, and Sean brought him the sword. Frederick studied the entirety of it from hilt to tip with an appraising eye, and then slowly handed it back. “That blade is from Gadbroll. It is the one you took from Hadrian.”

“Yes.”

Frederick pursed his lips. “He brought a magic sword.”

“And now it’s mine.”

“So it is. You will get your sheath.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Tonight, during the feast. You will be sitting next to Nicholas.”

Sean nodded. “Yes.”

“You did not die during the second trial, and managed to worm your way into the third. And now you are to sit beside the prize omega himself.” Frederick grimaced. “You are impertinent.”

“I am your son.”

“So you are,” he murmured. “But still, you will not win the third trial. You are to help Eric succeed.”

Sean’s lip curled. So that was why Frederick had defended him. “I will not.”

“Do not overestimate your worth, boy. You are not my heir. Make no mistake - even should you win the trial, you cannot win the tournament. But Eric can, and will, and you will help him do so.”

“Eric will never be Nick’s mate. He’s already chosen me.”

Frederick regarded Sean for a long moment. “He does seem rather fond of you. Still, that is easy to fix. You cannot be his mate if you are dead.”

“He will kill anyone who harms me.” 

“Perhaps. But if you die in the trial like the Grimm matriarchs no doubt intend for you to do, then he will have no choice but to mate with another.”

“If I die.” Sean’s lips quirked up at the corners. “They couldn’t kill me in the second trial.”

He sighed and stroked his short beard. “Yes. You are akin to a cockroach.”

“I see myself as more of a revenant.”

Frederick hummed, returning Sean’s smile with a slight one of his own. “I suppose that is more appropriate for a biest such as yourself. Nevertheless, even revenants can be defeated.”

“Not by Eric.”

“Eric? No. But by an alpha Grimm? Most certainly.” The two women from before filed back in with the outfit Frederick had chosen for Sean, and he asked, “It is already done?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

So Sean allowed himself to be dressed, removing his sword and pants again to replace them with the ones the servants had brought him, letting them fit the clothes over his body and tie the laces and restrap his sword to his waist. Sean had never worn anything quite so fine - all of his clothes were befitting a prince, of course, but they were nothing compared to the fabrics and styles reserved for Eric. 

And then a circlet of wrought gold was presented to him. 

Sean slowly bent down to allow his father to place it onto his head. He had never been allowed to wear one before. The bastard son was not worthy of wearing anything that tied him to the throne. But now the circlet slid into place, the slight piece of metal heavier than he’d expected.

It fit perfectly.

He stepped in front of the mirror set up by the water basin, smoothing his hand over his chest as his gaze trailed over himself. The outfit hugged his frame, the cloth soft against his skin, the shirt dyed the rich crimson of Kronenburg’s flame. The gold on his head glinted in the firelight, shining bright and brilliant, catching his eye and drawing it back every time it strayed.

He felt regal.

He felt like a king.

Chapter Text

The feasting tables were laden with a spread of seasonal vegetables and roasted wild game, perfuming the air with their fragrance. Sean made his way directly to the table where Nick sat with his family, ignoring the way everyone in attendance seemed to be staring him down. There was a spot open to Nick’s right, reserved for him, and he wasn’t about to let anything stop him from sitting in it.

Nick did not spare him a glance as he sat down next to him. He was silently picking at his plate, moving his food from one side to the other without lifting any of it to his mouth. He was still wearing the same outfit he had been wearing before, though the rip in the shoulder had been mended.

“Don’t like the food?” Sean asked.

Nick grunted.

Sean hummed and nodded. “It is a bit hot out for such a heavy meal.”

Nick stabbed his knife into the haunch on his plate.

“You look lovely,” Sean offered. “I didn’t expect to see you in an outfit like this outside of the court.”

The words made Nick snap to face him, his eyes wide. “I’m going to have to wear this shit again?!”

“I won’t make you wear anything you don’t want to,” Sean said softly.

Nick deflated and turned back to his meal with a heavy sigh. “Right.”

Sean leaned closer, murmuring, “You look just as lovely in your other clothes. You can wear them around the castle instead if you’d like.”

“You can stop with the act,” Nick bit out. “I know you don’t actually like me.”

Sean frowned. “I do like you.”

“No, you like what I can do for you. That’s different.”

“That’s not true. I like plenty of things about you.”

“Like what?”

Sean was silent for a moment. Then, “I like how you handled your sword.”

Nick snorted. “Yeah, because I can fight off anyone who tries to kill you. You don’t know anything about me. So just stop.”

He let out a soft sigh. “Would you prefer that I were rude instead, then?”

“I would prefer that you were honest.”

Sean had never been honest a day in his life. It kept him alive, kept him ahead of those who would see him fall. “I am being honest.”

Nick looked him straight in the eye and said, “I don’t believe you. You might be my best chance at some semblance of freedom, but you will never be my mate.”

Sean stared at him, his chest strangely hollowed out.

“That’s fair,” he managed to force out after a few moments. “But you will still be required to bear my heir.”

Nick tilted his chin up, staring down his nose at him despite the height difference. “The price of freedom.”

With that he turned back to his plate and shoved a chunk of meat into his mouth. Sean let out a rough breath and straightened up, grabbing the goblet beside his plate and sniffing the contents. The wine did not smell tainted. He took the smallest sip, just enough for it to touch his tongue. It did not taste tainted, either. He took a larger sip, then another. He was able to identify a range of poisons local to Kronenburg by smell and taste alone - another perk of being a hybrid, specifically a Zauberbiest - and had conditioned his body to withstand a good portion of them with only mild discomfort. But all of the kingdoms were present at the feast, and a foreign poison could easily slip past his defenses if he wasn’t careful.

Everyone present had plenty of reasons to poison him.

Eric was glaring at him from the table set up for the Kronenburg kingdom. He had turned a vivid shade of red when Sean had stepped out of Frederick’s tent, and had demanded that the circlet be removed and his clothes burned with him in them. And then Frederick had reminded Eric that it was Sean who would be sitting at the Grimms’ table during the feast, not him, and that his failure to secure the seat and Nick’s favor had not gone unnoticed.

Eric hadn’t spoken to Sean since then.

Sean busied himself with his own meal for a while, occasionally attempting to strike up conversation with Nick only to be immediately shot down. Sean sighed, waving over a servant to refill his wine. He could be drinking with Javier and forging a new alliance instead of sitting in silence with all of the heirs watching his every move. After another failed attempt he asked, “Why did you tell your mother you wanted me to sit with you if you don’t actually want me to sit with you?”

“To piss off the other heirs,” Nick said bluntly.

“Well, you did a fantastic job. But now you have to dance with them, and they’re going to be more obnoxious than they would’ve been if you hadn’t.”

Nick shifted in his seat, his lips curving down. His voice was small when he said, “I don’t know how to dance.”

Sean slowly lowered his goblet from his mouth. “You’ve never danced?”

“I have! Just… around a bonfire, not in a court. I’m guessing it’s different from what I’m used to, since there’s no way I could dance in these clothes.”

“Oh.” Sean had never seen that kind of dancing before. “I could teach you how.”

Nick cast him a glance from under his lashes. They framed the pretty storm blue of his eyes, made them stand out like enchanted crystals. “You would do that?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think they’ll let you.”

“I won’t let them stop me.”

Nick huffed out a quiet laugh, ducking his head and tugging at the high collar of his tunic with a small smile. After a moment he said, “You fought well today.”

Sean leaned back in his seat with a hum. He had. “Thank you. Did you like what you saw?”

Nick bit his lip. A moment passed, and then he nodded.

Sean barely refrained from preening, which was a vain act that a future king shouldn’t do. But of course Nick had enjoyed the show. He had proven he was a worthy mate - and despite Nick’s assertion to the contrary, they would be mates. He would not allow Nick to seek another. Sean would be the only one to provide what he needed.

Nick turned back to his plate, actually eating now instead of mutilating his food. But Sean wasn’t interested in eating anymore, not with the light dusting of pink highlighting Nick’s cheekbones. He leaned closer again, close enough to scent him - and he was right, Nick had bathed. He no longer smelled like Sean, but his own scent was bright and sharp and perfect and it was all Sean could do not to bury his face in his neck to breathe it in properly.

“You know,” he rumbled, “when this is over we could train together. I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two.”

Nick huffed. “You’re just hoping for a repeat of last time.”

“Aren’t you?”

Nick’s hand faltered where he was bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and he cast a wide-eyed glance at Sean and stuttered out, “No- I- no.”

“No?” Sean slid his hand over the small of Nick’s back, careful to be as inconspicuous as possible with his family sitting on the other side of him and the gazes of the other heirs weighing heavy on his skin. He was playing with fire touching Nick in public like this, but he’d always enjoyed the heat of the flames. “You seemed to enjoy my knot quite a bit. You’re welcome to it again, whenever you’d like it. It’s yours.”

Nick let out a soft whine, the flush in his cheeks darkening to a lovely red. His voice was weak when he mumbled, “I don’t want it.”

“Hmm?” Sean smoothed his hand in slow circles low on his back, making Nick shift slightly in his seat. His scent had become perfumed with a faint tinge of arousal, and Sean’s pants were becoming tighter with an answering need. But Sean wouldn’t be able to whisk Nick away to take care of him any time soon, not with his family and the rest of the festival watching their every move like hawks. Still, he continued to murmur, “You don’t sound too certain about that. We could try again, just so you’re sure.”

Nick shook his head, silent.

Kelly looked over then, and Sean quickly retreated out of Nick’s space. She snarled softly at him but didn’t make any move to kill him, so Sean just raised his goblet at her and offered up a small smile. She trapped Nick in a conversation, and Sean sighed and let his gaze drift across the feast tables.

The sun had begun to set, but large bonfires had been set ablaze between the massive tables that provided plenty of light to illuminate the festivities. The heat from the flames chased any chill out of the air, kept the night warm where it might’ve cooled off. A troupe of musicians played upbeat tunes Sean had never heard on instruments he’d only seen once or twice in passing, but the melodies were lively and many of the attendees joined in to sing along, their tankards held aloft and sloshing wine out with their movements. Most of the food on the tables had been consumed, and by now they were beginning to clear as people made their way over to the adjacent open field where a few more bonfires burned bright. Several early pairs had already started dancing, their footwork unfamiliar but nonetheless impressive.

Javier had stood, was stretching, a large, easy grin on his face. He sauntered across the feasting grounds right up to the Grimms’ table to stand in front of Nick, and held his hand out to him and asked, “May I have this dance?”

Nick stared at him.

Sean spoke for him, “I’m going first, Javier.”

Javier’s gaze snapped to him, his grin dropping. “Pardon?”

“Yes, pardon?” Kelly asked, leaning over the table to glare at Sean past Nick.

“Nick asked me to be the first to dance with him,” he said simply. “You may go after me, if you’d like. I’ll keep Eric away from him for you.”

A muscle in Javier’s jaw twitched. He turned to Kelly. “This was not part of it, no?”

“No,” she agreed. “It was not.”

“So he is not dancing.”

“No, he is not.”

Javier’s smile came back, and he held his hand out to Nick once more. “Then come!”

Nick shook his head. “I’m going to dance with Sean first.”

Kelly sighed. “You’re not going to dance with him at all.”

“Then I won’t dance.”

Kelly muttered something that sounded like, ‘why are you being so difficult?’ and dragged her hand over her face. “Fine. You can dance with him after you dance with the others.”

“Mother…” Nick leaned close to her to whisper in her ear. 

There was a moment of silence, and then she let out a rough breath and said, “My apologies, Javier. Sean will go first.”

Javier’s smile thinned. “May I ask what changed your mind?”

“No.”

Javier nodded curtly and said to Nick, “Very well. I shall be eagerly waiting for you to finish.”

He turned and left, and Nick deflated with a sigh. Sean refrained from sighing himself. He might’ve just ruined his chances at forging an alliance with Nimier, but solidifying his place as Nick’s mate was more important. 

Nick muttered softly, “I hate this…”

Sean frowned. He leaned close again to murmur to him, “This will be over soon enough. You only have to deal with the rest of them for a little while longer, and then you’ll be free to do as you please.”

Nick side-eyed him. “Free.”

“Yes.”

“You mean that.”

“I do.”

“You’re not going to lock me up in your castle walls?”

“No. I’ll even give you a horse to explore the kingdom with.”

Nick snorted. “I already have a horse.”

“I’ll give you another one.”

Nick sighed heavily again, but the hint of a smile curled tentative around the corners of his mouth. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

Chapter Text

Nick stared up at him, his face a mask of desperation.

“You promised,” he whispered.

Sean didn’t promise him anything.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, adjusting his grip on Nick. Their bodies weren’t touching - that would be inappropriate - but having Nick so close again was doing nothing good for his control. And Nick kept stumbling into him, kept bringing them flush as Sean had to catch him and steady him. It was torture. “You’re doing fine. Just relax and follow me.”

Nick’s grip was bruisingly tight on his shoulder. His bones felt like they were creaking under the force of it. “I’m making a fool of myself. You said you could teach me.”

“You need to relax. Pretend that it’s just you and me.”

“How can I do that when everyone is staring at us?!”

“Shhh, you’re fine.” If Nick couldn’t handle this he would perish in the court. It made sense, though, that a Grimm would be uncomfortable as the center of attention. They were a race that spent their life in the shadows. Stepping into the light must burn. “It’s just you and me here. Just you and me. Focus on us. Focus on me. Don’t look anywhere else, don’t look down at your feet. Take a deep breath, relax, and let me guide your steps. Think of it like a training exercise - this is a battle, and you will win it.”

Nick sucked in a shaky breath, held it, and then slowly released it. He nodded, and said softly, “Yeah, okay.”

“Ready?”

Nick bit his lip and nodded again, so Sean slowly guided him through the first step, sweeping his foot against Nick’s to push it into the proper place. He’d never had to teach anyone to dance before, had always had partners who had been raised to perform the intricate dances in the court their entire lives. But Sean had always strived to excel at everything he did, and he could not fail at this. Not when Nick needed him.

Nick stumbled slightly again, and let out a soft huff. “I can’t-”

“You can. Again.”

Sean took another step, and another, and with each one he took Nick stumbled less. And then he relaxed in Sean’s arms, and began to anticipate his movements - which wasn’t difficult, they were the same four steps repeated in sequence. He had chosen this dance specifically for its simplicity. Nick fell into it beautifully once he relaxed, allowing Sean to guide him around the field without further trouble or complaint. He actually made a decent enough dance partner - he did not attempt to lead, did not fight Sean for control.

As they weaved between the other dancing pairs Nick would occasionally lean forward, bringing his nose close to Sean’s throat, so obviously scenting him that it made Sean almost drag him off of the field to find somewhere private where Nick could get as much of a noseful as he wanted.

“Smell something interesting?” Sean finally asked after the third time.

Nick’s shoulders hunched slightly. He cleared his throat, and said, “Sorry. You just- are you wearing something?”

Sean shook his head and swept them out of the way of another dancing pair. “I don’t use oils. Why? Do I smell bad?”

Nick caught his lip between his teeth. “No- uh, no. You smell fine.”

A sharp smile twisted Sean’s lips up. “Oh? Is that why you keep scenting me?”

Nick scowled at him, the effect completely ruined by the faint flush coloring his cheeks. He stepped on Sean’s foot, hard, which must’ve been completely intentional given he hadn’t done so in a while. “We’re supposed to be dancing, remember?”

“We are dancing,” Sean said easily, not allowing himself to wince. “You are dancing.”

Nick looked up at him, looked down at himself, looked around at the people dancing beside them and the people watching them, and then graced Sean with a sweet smile. “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

He returned his smile with a small one of his own. “My pleasure.”

The song ended, and Sean finally released Nick to bow slightly as was customary to do, even for a future king. Nick stared at him and did not bow, and Sean raised a brow and waved at him. “After you finish a dance you bow to thank your partner.”

“Why?”

Sean’s brows furrowed. It was simply common etiquette. Everyone knew to bow. “It’s polite.”

Nick wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never bowed after a dance before.”

“Dancing around a bonfire isn’t real dancing.”

“But we’re dancing around a bonfire right now. It’s the same thing.”

“No it isn’t. These are proper dances, from the courts.”

Nick’s face went blank, his voice flat, “Right. So I guess the way I fight isn’t real fighting either, because it’s not the way you do it?”

Fuck.

“That’s not what I said.”

“I suppose you don’t need me to protect you with my fake fighting then, because of course it wouldn’t do anything against a real opponent.”

“Nick-”

“I have other alphas to dance with,” he spat, and stalked away to Javier, who welcomed him with a wide grin. Sean blew out a rough breath and scrubbed his hand over his mouth, slowly making his way off of the field.

He’d have to watch his words more carefully in the future - Nick would be sensitive while he adjusted to court life, though they’d have to work on controlling outbursts like this. It was not acceptable for Nick to seek out attention from other alphas for any reason.

Sean found a spot at the edge of the cleared space to watch his omega be twirled around by Javier, his teeth gritted tight enough to hurt and his nails digging cuts into his palms. Javier was large compared to Sean’s already decent mass, and Nick looked deceivingly slight against his burly frame. The alpha held him at the proper distance, his hand no lower than appropriate on his back, but Sean still ached to rip his arms off for touching Nick. Nick stumbled over the first few steps - the dance was different than the one Sean had taught him, one found in the high courts of Nimier instead of Kronenburg, and Javier stopped and said something to him that he nodded to. They went slow after that, and Nick did not stumble again.

Sean snarled quietly as Nick laughed at something Javier had said. His posture had relaxed, and a grin had lit up his face, wide and toothy. Javier ducked down to whisper something in his ear - a risky move, with everyone watching - but it panned out as Nick laughed again and pushed lightly at his shoulder.

Sean was going to kill Javier. There would never be an alliance between Kronenburg and Nimier.

But then the dance was over, and Sean took a step forward before he could stop himself. He slowly pulled his foot back as Yvette quickly took Javier’s place, and crossed his arms tight over his chest to lock his fists under them. Yvette’s dancing was nothing like Sean or Javier’s, her steps short and sharp and sudden where theirs had both been a smooth sway. Nick struggled to keep up with her, his brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight frown as he stumbled over her feet. She did not slow down for him, just dragged him along with her, and when they parted Nick glanced around, sought out Sean’s gaze, and aimed his frown at him.

Sean nodded, frowning back. He likely wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her either.

And then Eric swept up to Nick, offering him his hand, and Nick accepted it, letting him pull him in close. Sean expected Eric to choose a different dance than he had - because he wouldn’t want to debase himself by performing the same dance as his bastard brother - and his brows shot up when he took the leading step of the same dance. Nick immediately relaxed into it, visibly relieved, and a small smile curled his lips up as he spoke with Eric while being guided around the other dancing pairs.

Sean’s gaze darted to his father. The man was watching the two dance with rapt attention, following their path across the field. He would be the only reason Eric would have conceded to doing the same dance as Sean. His will was law, and if he had noticed that Nick was struggling and determined that using the same dance would put him at ease he might have ordered Eric to do so to secure an advantage.

It seemed to be working. Nick was laughing softly now, his smile wider than it had been before. Sean ground his teeth together. Eric was slimy and useless, but he could be a charming piece of shit when he wanted to be.

It wasn’t over soon enough. Eric released his omega, only to catch his hand and press his lips to the back of it as he bowed. Sean surged forward a few steps, barely keeping his woge from tearing across his face. But Nick had jerked his hand away, was shaking his head, his smile soured into a frown, and Sean sucked in a ragged breath through his clenched teeth, and another, until the itch under his skin settled.

The other heirs had stepped forward as well, their faces all twisted into snarls. Eric backed away quickly, bowing slightly again, and retreated to Frederick’s side. Nick rubbed the back of his hand on his pants and made his way out of the clearing as well, returning to his mother’s side. Sean released a slow breath when he was safe once more with his family, out of the grasp of rival alphas, but quickly tensed up again as his gaze drifted away from Nick.

Marie was staring at him, her lips pressed into a tight line, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

No.

She couldn’t have seen.

She could not have seen his woge threaten to rip across his face.

Chapter Text

Marie leaned over to whisper in Kelly’s ear, and then they were both staring at him.

He hadn't woged. He knew he hadn't woged. There was no way Marie could have seen the ripples of his woge starting, Grimm or not.

Except that they were drawing their swords now, and stalking over to him, and paying no heed to Nick as he tried to block their path.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Mother, wait!” Nick cried. He was shoved out of the way, and they continued forward with him on their heels.

Sean drew his own sword - but it was useless, he would never be able to fight off two alpha Grimms - and backed away with one hand raised in placation as he asked, “What are you-?”

“You’re Wesen,” Kelly spat.

Fuck.

“No,” Sean said. “I’m not.”

Everyone was probably staring now, their murmurs drifting to his ears, but he could not tear his gaze away from his impending death to check. Marie pointed her sword at him. “I saw it. You are.”

“I didn’t woge-”

“You didn’t have to. I am a Grimm. I saw you holding it back.”

“Aunt Marie,” Nick stepped in front of her blade, “You said you wouldn’t kill him!”

“And I didn’t. Now I will. Move.”

Kelly moved forward, and Nick’s arm shot out as he grabbed her blade. A thin stream of red dripped down the steel, making Sean twitch, but she didn’t drop it like Marie had before. Instead she hissed, “Nicholas. Grimms do not defend Wesen. We kill them.”

“Not this one.”

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Marie barked.

“You wanted me to mate with one of the Royal heirs. I chose him.”

“He’s Wesen!” they cried.

Nick nodded. “Let him compete in the trial tomorrow. He will either prove his worth, or die.”

“You knew,” Kelly snarled. “You knew and you didn’t kill him.”

“I’ve made my choice. Let him die in the trial.”

“Grimms do not mate with Wesen!”

Marie scoffed. “This is foolish. He dies now.”

“The trial will kill him,” Nick assured them. “Give me this, and I will go peacefully with whoever wins.”

“You do not have to go peacefully. You have no choice.”

“Then I’ll… I’ll kill myself, and you will never get what you wanted.”

Kelly snorted. “You won’t.”

“I will.”

“We won’t let you.”

“You won’t be there to stop me. I’ll be far far away, in a castle in one of the kingdoms, remember?”

Kelly’s face pinched. A long moment passed, and then she gritted out, “Why can’t you just do as you’re told for once?!”

Nick flinched, the movement so slight Sean would have missed it if he hadn’t been hyper aware of the three Grimms in front of him. “You were the one who raised me to be like this. I’m just doing what you always taught me to do.”

Kelly looked like she’d been slapped. She went silent, and it was Marie who spoke next, her voice softer than before, “Why are you protecting him? A Wesen? Nicky…”

“I have my reasons, and you have yours. He competes in the trial tomorrow, or I die.”

“How are you so sure the trial will kill him? He didn’t die today.”

“Because the trial will be a quest,” Nick’s voice rang out over the murmurs of the crowd as he declared, “The contestants must bring me the heart of a gorgon.”

The field went silent. Only the crackle of the bonfires could be heard.

Kelly was the first to break the silence, “You won’t just kill him. You’ll kill them all.”

“Then they aren’t mates worthy of a Grimm,” Nick said simply.

“Nick-” she cut off with a harsh breath.

Marie spoke for her, “That’s an impossible task for a human. They will all be turned to stone.”

Nick shrugged. “They will make fine statues.”

“What do you intend to do if they all perish?” Kelly asked curtly.

“The ones who failed the first and second trials may attempt it in their place.”

“And if they fail, too?”

Sean couldn’t see his face, but his smile was clear in his voice, “Then I suppose I won’t be mating with anyone.”

The scheming devil. So Nick had been concocting his own plan this entire time. He did not intend to become anyone’s mate.

Except that he kept saving Sean’s life, and persuading his family to allow him to compete.

Maybe a part of Nick wanted him to win.

Kelly sighed. “You have to mate with one of them, Nicholas.”

“Not if they’re all dead.”

“You cannot kill off all of the kingdoms’ heirs.”

“I’m not doing anything. They’ll live if they’re good enough. And they don’t have to compete.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed down to slits. Marie stepped close to her and murmured something into her ear, and she murmured something back, and then finally said, “The tournament will have to be extended - they cannot retrieve such a thing for you in one day.”

Nick nodded and released her sword. “That’s fair.”

“You were thinking of the gorgon in the cave to the east, correct? The one that has been preying on travelers recently?”

“Yes.”

She pursed her lips. “I suppose this would save us the task of killing her ourselves.”

A man called out, “You can’t seriously be considering sending our heirs after such a monster?!”

Kelly’s gaze snapped to someone behind Sean, and she said, her voice icy, “It is a fair task. One Grimm alone is more than enough to slay a gorgon - my heir deserves a mate who can do the same.”

The words inspired a new hum of murmurs to ripple through the crowd, but Kelly turned her focus back to Sean. “The gorgon will turn you to stone, and I will find your statue and crush it to dust beneath my boot.”

Sean kept silent.

Kelly and Marie led Nick away, and Sean resheathed his sword, his muscles aching from the tension winding through them. He had escaped death yet again, but his next task would land him right back into its hands.

“You fool,” his father said behind him, and Sean turned to face him. Frederick had the most displeased look on his face that Sean had ever seen on him. “Now every kingdom knows I have a half-breed son. You are lucky Nicholas wants you alive, or I would save the gorgon the trouble and kill you myself.”

Sean kept silent again.

“Come. You still represent Kronenburg, unfortunately, and though you will lose to Eric you will not disgrace us further with a poor performance during the third trial.”

Sean was led back across the field to the tents, but Frederick stopped him when he took a step toward the one he shared with Eric, saying, “No. Your brother might decide to be as foolish as you and kill you in your sleep, and then Nicholas will never accept him as his mate. You will spend the night in my tent.”

Sean’s brows shot up, but he followed his father inside without comment. Frederick instructed a few servants to create a small cushioned area in a corner for him, and then Sean was stripped, the circlet taken from him, and provided with new clothing that befitted his station. His father disappeared behind the veil separating the back of the tent from the rest, and Sean settled down into the provided cushions. Exhaustion swept over him the moment his head touched the pillow, but sleep did not come as quickly as it had the night before.

A gorgon. It was said that their visage alone was able to turn men to stone with one glance, and he was meant to cut out its heart. Sean had fought a magical creature before. A wyvern had attacked the castle, and he’d been the one to slay it. But he’d had a squad of knights supporting him then. This time Sean would not only be alone but also competing against the other alphas attempting to kill the beast.

The quest would take them away from the festival grounds. Nobody would be monitoring the heirs ensuring that there was no foul play, which meant that there would be, and he was fighting not one opponent but four. They would likely try to take Sean out first - Nick favored him, and they would want to squash any chance of him succeeding as quickly as possible. Unless they decided to wait for him to fight the gorgon, to wait and see if he defeated it and then attempt to take the heart from him when he was weakened from the fight.

Either way, Sean had to be careful. His father was protecting him through the night, but he would give all of the tricks and tools at his disposal to Eric, not Sean, to give him the advantage. He still wanted Eric to win.

Sean sighed and rubbed his eyes. It didn’t matter. He would do as Nick wished, and would return home to claim his throne.

He had to.

Chapter Text

Sean woke to a hand covering his mouth.

It startled him into full awareness immediately - he hadn’t been snuck up on like this since he was a child. He'd made the mistake of letting down his guard, thinking that being in the king's tent, surrounded by armed knights would dissuade anyone from slipping in to kill him.

He had been wrong.

But no blade had sunk between his ribs, or slit open his throat. In fact, there was no threat of steel present at all.

The tent was dark, dimly lit only by one remaining candle left to light the king’s way should he wake in the night. It illuminated only the faintest outline of the figure crouched above Sean, leaving them in deep shadow.

But they were close enough to catch a faint scent.

Nick did not remove his hand, instead placing his other one on Sean’s arm and tugging gently, whispering, "Come with me."

Sean pressed a kiss to the palm against his lips. It retreated quickly, and Sean huffed out a laugh and caught Nick’s wrist, pulling him closer with his own whispered, "No. You come here instead."

"Sean-"

"Shhh, you don't want my father to find you in here, do you?" 

Nick went rigid in his grasp. "I could be gone before he wakes."

"But you snuck all the way over here and found me for a reason, didn't you? How many tents did you have to check? I’m sure it wasn’t an easy task. And I'm sure your mother won't be pleased to find you missing. Or was that your plan again?" Nick was silent. Sean scooted back on the cushions, making space for him, and pulled on his wrist again. "Just come lay with me quietly and my father will never know."

There was another moment of silence, and then Nick let out a shaky breath and settled onto the cushions beside him. He was facing Sean, though, and not drawing close enough to touch him. Sean pushed gently at his shoulder, and Nick hissed quietly, "What?!"

"Turn around."

"I'm not-"

"Shhh, see? You have to raise your voice when you're over there. Turn around so I can come closer." 

He could hear Nick just fine. And even if he couldn't, Nick could always tuck in against his side with his face closer to Sean’s ear. If Nick turned around it would actually make it harder for him to hear what he'd come to say, but he wasn’t interested in talking now that they had a moment of privacy.

Nick sighed and slowly turned around. Sean pressed close with a low note and wrapped his arms around him, tucking his nose behind his ear and his legs against the back of Nick’s. Nick squirmed against him with a soft whine, his hand pushing lightly at Sean’s hip where they were pressed tightly together. 

"Sean- I don't-"

"Shh, ignore it. I woke up with it." He hadn't woken half-hard, not with the surety he was going to die coursing through his veins, but Nick’s squirming was only making it worse. "What did you come to say?"

Nick huffed and squirmed a bit more, as if trying to wiggle free from his grasp, and Sean soothed him with slow strokes over his arm and kept his grip firm. Finally Nick settled against him and went still, grumbling quietly under his breath. Sean just nosed at the soft skin behind his ear, breathing him in, long and slow. He let out his breath in a low rumble, and Nick shivered in his arms.

Sean smiled, and rocked his hips forward. "You needed something from me?"

Nick started squirming again, harder than before. "Not- not that!"

"Shh," Sean hushed, locking his arms around him and shoving one of his legs between Nick’s to keep him in place, "We're just talking. Tell me what you wanted to say."

Nick slowly calmed down again, biting out, "I shouldn't have come."

"But you did. Obviously you have something important to tell me to take a risk like this." 

Nick went quiet again. Sean stroked his thumb over the back of Nick’s arm and waited him out. Finally, Nick muttered, "It's stupid."

"Not if it brought you into my arms."

Nick snorted out a laugh, loud enough that there was a rustle from behind the veil where Frederick slept. They both froze, but the king did not come to investigate the noise, and with mutual sighs they relaxed again. Nick nudged him with his elbow. "You're stupid."

Sean hummed. "You think so?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think your plan to get out of mating with anyone is clever. That's your plan, isn't it? To kill off or scare away all of the contestants so that you aren't forced to be anyone's mate?"

Nick was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, his voice small, "You think that's clever?"

"I do. It's something I might’ve done myself, had our roles been reversed." Sean would not have done that. He would have skewed the tournament such that the only alpha who could win was the one he wanted to, the one with the most prosperous kingdom that he could still control easily.

Like Nathaniel. He was weak and Plaverton would make a good kingdom to rule.

But the words made Nick relax in his arms, and a hand found his and clutched at it as he asked, "Even if it kills you, too?"

"I wasn't aware you cared."

"I don't!" he said quickly. "But… if you die and one of the other alphas succeed…"

Sean turned his hand over to lace their fingers together. Cloth covered Nick’s hand - a bandage. It was the hand he’d sliced open on his mother’s sword. He held his hand carefully so as not to apply pressure on his wound. "That's not going to happen. I will be the one to bring you the gorgon's heart."

There was another moment of silence. Then, "The gorgon. She will turn you to stone if you look at her."

"So I've heard."

"You'll have to fight blind."

"It won't be my first time." 

A poison slipped into his drink had failed to kill him but had left him sightless, and the assassin had attempted to finish the job. They had also failed. A zaubertrank from his mother and a long, feverish night later his eyesight had returned, but Sean had taken to training with his eyes covered in addition to his usual routine in the event it should happen again.

"Oh," Nick said softly, then muttered, "This was stupid. I shouldn’t have come here."

Sean squeezed his hand very gently. "I'm glad you came."

Nick sighed and shifted in his arms, shaking his hand loose from Sean’s to do something Sean couldn't make out in the dark. After a moment he caught Sean’s hand again, and a bunched up piece of fabric was pressed into his palm. "Here."

"What is it?"

"It's… a strip of cloth for your eyes. So you don't accidently look at her."

Sean’s breath caught.

Nick had given him a blindfold.

Nick didn't want him to die.

Warmth swelled in his chest, the feeling foreign and not altogether comfortable. Sean swallowed hard, tried to tamp down that feeling, but it stubbornly remained and all he could do was brush a light kiss to the curve of Nick’s jaw and murmur, "Thank you."

Nick shrugged against his chest, mute, and moved as if to get up. Sean quickly tightened his arms around him and said, "Stay a while longer."

"Sean…"

"Daylight is still a ways away. You have time."

"My mother wakes early."

"I wake earlier. You won't get caught. Stay."

Nick heaved a sigh but settled back against him. He was a solid weight, firm with muscles built from use, and again Sean was struck by the difference in the way he felt compared to the court omegas he’d bedded. The court omegas couldn't wield a blade - they weren't allowed to. They were considered too precious, too delicate for such brutality as battle. They had a simpler purpose in life. Omegas were meant to bear children for their mates, happily and without complaint.

Nick was everything an omega wasn't supposed to be. He was hard where they were soft, was brazen when they were meek. He spoke out of turn, defied his family, and planned to have all of his suitors killed.

Sean had never been so attracted to anyone in his life.

The fire in his eyes was addictive. Sean was going to be the one to tame it, to be the only one to make Nick submit.

The cloth in his hands wasn't as soft as the fine fabrics found in the court, and was likely just plain cloth without any magic imbued into it. He’d have a greater advantage with a blindfold provided by one of his father’s Hexenbiests - or better yet, one stolen from Hadrian - but his omega had given it to him and Sean would be damned if he didn't use it. He clenched it in his fist as he curled around Nick, rubbing his nose against the short hairs on the nape of his neck and all he could smell was him, was his omega, warm and safe in his arms exactly where he should be.

And now that he finally had him in his arms again - properly, not just to dance - he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. He pressed his lips to the soft skin at the side of Nick’s throat lightly, so as not to cause alarm, and slowly trailed up to his ear, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake.

Nick squirmed in his arms despite his efforts. “Sean…”

“Hmm?” He found the curve of Nick’s ear with his lips, and caught it between his teeth. It earned him the sweetest little moan, so soft he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t completely attuned to the man in his arms. A slow swipe of his tongue along the shell of his ear made Nick shiver and lean away, but the faintest hint of the scent of aroused omega began to perfume the air.

“Sean, I don’t-”

“No?” He slid his hand down Nick’s chest, fingers digging in lightly as he went, down between his hips where the evidence of Nick’s interest had begun to stretch the fabric of his pants. Nick quickly caught his hand and yanked it away, dragged it back up, but made no move to escape his arms. The Grimm could easily break free of him, could easily break his neck if he wanted to. But instead he clutched at the hand he’d captured and squeezed his legs around the one Sean had slipped between his as his ear was nipped again. 

“We can’t…”

“Should I stop?” Sean mouthed the words into the sensitive flesh, his voice a hushed rumble.

Nick let out a soft whine. “The king is right there!”

If that was his only concern then Sean would have him under him in moments. “Then we’ll be quiet.”

“My family will smell you on me again!”

“You’re my mate. They’ll have to get used to it eventually.”

“I’m not your mate,” his voice went breathy on the last word as Sean bit into his neck. “And you… you haven’t won the tournament yet.”

Sean hummed and sucked at the skin in his mouth until Nick squawked and shoved at his head, hissing out, “No marks!”

There’d likely be a lovely bruise there in the morning regardless of Nick’s attempt to stop it. Sean kissed the back of the hand now covering Nick’s neck and said, “You’ve already declared yourself as my mate to your family. I’m simply reinforcing what you said.”

“They’ll kill you for touching me again.”

“They’re going to kill me anyway for being half-Wesen. If I’m going to die, I’d like to spend my last night alive with you.” 

Nick huffed and muttered something under his breath, but otherwise didn’t respond. 

So Sean said, “It will piss off the rest of heirs and distract them while they fight the gorgon for you. Maybe enough that they all die.”

Nick snorted, and then coughed to cover what was obviously a laugh. “And then you’ll be the only one left, huh.”

“Exactly. And then if I die, you won’t have anyone left to be forced to mate with. It’s the perfect plan.”

“Except for the part where we have sex,” there was laughter in his voice now, too.

Sean took it for the opening it was. “I suppose you could just do what you did last time and make it appear as though we had sex. But then only one of us will finish, and it won’t be satisfying for either of us.”

Nick scoffed. “Who says only one of us would finish?”

“Oh?” Sean pressed his grin against the back of Nick’s hand so he could feel the sharp stretch of it. “I thought you weren’t interested. I’d be happy to give you a hand.”

Nick shrank away from him, his words strangled, “That-! That’s not what I said!”

“Isn’t it, though? There’s no need to be embarrassed about it. It’s a perfectly natural response to being close to your mate.”

“You’re not my mate,” Nick snapped.

"Not yet."

“Not ever.” 

The absolute conviction in those two short syllables clamped a band of steel over Sean’s chest, made drawing breath difficult. Which was foolish. It didn’t matter if Nick saw him as his mate or not as long as the rest of the world did.

He couldn’t respond for a few moments, and when he did he only barely managed to keep his voice even, “Allow me this. Your family will never let me live even if I do bring you the gorgon’s heart. But I will still do my best to ensure none of the other heirs succeed in my place.”

Nick was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke his voice was soft, barely audible, "You would do that for me?"

Sean pressed a kiss into his hair. “That and more.”

“But… you don’t even know me…”

“As I said, I know enough.”

Nick went quiet again, but removed his hand from over his neck. Sean took the opportunity to nose at it again, committing his scent to memory. He might never have the chance to do so again.

Finally Nick sighed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘fuck it’ and squirming in his grasp again, this time managing to slip free just enough to turn around and face Sean. The single candle lighting the tent ensured that he was nothing more than a dark outline, concealing his expression. But Sean didn’t need to see him to feel the hands curling into his shirt, and the lips pressing against his. 

Sean pressed back immediately, wrapping his hand around the back of Nick’s head to keep him from pulling away. But Nick didn’t pull away. One of his hands slid down Sean’s chest to his pants, slid inside, and gripped him firmly.

Sean broke the kiss with a groan, murmuring, “Slow down.”

“Why? We don’t have all night.”

“You didn’t let me touch you last time. I intend to make up for that.” He gently tugged Nick’s hand out of his pants, heat searing through him at the way he squeezed lightly before letting go. But then Nick pushed himself up and swung his leg over his hip as if to climb on top of him, as if to pin him down again. Sean snarled and grabbed him hard, quickly rolling him underneath him. A grunt escaped him when Nick bucked against him and nearly threw him off, and he gritted his teeth as he struggled to subdue him.

He was not going to be pinned again.

His woge ripped free. The flush of power it brought coursed through him, made pinning Nick’s wrists into the cushions and shoving between his thighs seem almost easy. Almost, because Nick was a Grimm, and had his own significant strength. But Nick wasn’t trying to kill him - if he was, he probably could rip free of his grasp and do so. Instead he was shaking underneath him, and when Sean leaned closer to check for injuries despite not being able to see anything he realized Nick was laughing, soft, helpless little huffs of air that he was trying to keep quiet. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Sean asked.

“Aren’t you?” his grin was clear in his voice. Sean would’ve sank his teeth into it, but he was still woged. Nick might not be able to see him but he’d certainly be able to feel the way one side of his mouth peeled away to bare his teeth. Sean wouldn’t have even woged again had there been more light. 

It wasn’t a face anybody wanted to see. Especially during sex.

Nick tugged at his wrists. Sean tightened his grip. It must’ve been painful, but Nick merely went lax beneath him with a hum, finally lying still. Sean had to close his eyes as heat seared through him.

He’d pinned a Grimm. Made him submit.

Sean felt fucking powerful.

He didn’t get to revel in it long. Nick rocked their hips together and asked, “So are you going to do something, or…?”

“Impatient now, are we?”

Nick stilled. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

Fuck. His woge made his voice rough. He forced it back, forced it into the cage he’d so carefully constructed for it when it had first emerged. And then he cleared his throat, and said, “I just had something in my throat.”

“Oh.” Nick hooked his legs over his hips and used them as leverage to grind against him. “Come on. I have to get back soon.”

Sean huffed out a soft laugh. He might’ve submitted but he certainly wasn’t passive.

The small smile on his lips curved down. Nick was a Grimm. He might always make Sean work for it. They might never be able to have a simple, easy rut together.

No. He’d just have to teach him that there were other ways to enjoy sex than a battle of wills. But for now, he was going to take his prize. “I’m going to let you go. You’ll stay as you are, like this, just like you did to me.”

“What?!” the cry was loud, loud enough that Frederick rustled behind the veil again. They both froze, but again, he did not appear.

“Shh,” Sean hushed him, “Keep your voice down. You called it a contest last time, didn’t you? I won. You’ll keep your hands where they are.”

Nick clicked his tongue. “Sean. Really. You’re really doing this.”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning down to nip at Nick’s ear again. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Nick arched up into him with a small whine and rocked back into him again. “Fucking- fine. I won’t move my hands. Happy?”

“Very.” Sean released him, and as promised Nick did not move his hands. Not that Sean would’ve been able to tell in the dark unless Nick touched him or made large gestures with his arms, but the fact he’d agreed to it still made his blood burn through him. Sean rewarded him with a kiss, sliding his tongue into Nick’s mouth when he opened for him. 

As they kissed he trailed his hands slowly down Nick’s arms to his sides - the fabric of his shirt was the same as the one he’d been wearing the first time they’d done this, slightly rough and probably thicker than the one the outfit he’d worn earlier that day was made of. The cloth bunched under his hands as he rucked it up over Nick’s chest, exposing him. Sean couldn’t see him in the dark of the tent, but he could feel him, his smooth skin, the way his muscles flexed and twitched under his fingers, the way his breath caught in his chest when he found a sensitive spot. A line of raised skin made him pause, and he ran his thumb over it - a scar, long and jagged, ran from just under Nick’s ribcage and over his side to the back of his hip. He hadn't seen it before. Nick hadn't pulled his shirt up enough to show it off the last time they had done this.

Sean pulled away from the kiss but stayed close enough that his words brushed against Nick’s lips, “Was this from the Coyotls that attacked you?”

“...Yes.”

“I’m grateful to that Blutbad of yours, then. Maybe one day I’ll be able to thank him.”

Nick turned his face away, his words clipped, “Stop saying things like that.”

“You don’t want me to thank the person who saved your life?”

“I want you to stop- to stop. I already know you’re just using me to get your throne, you don’t have to talk like that anymore.”

Sean frowned. “I’m not talking like anything. I meant what I said. If I met Monroe I would thank him for saving you.”

“Liar. You’re a Royal and he’s a Wesen. Royals don’t thank Wesen for anything.”

“I’m Wesen, too.”

Nick turned back to face him, but his expression was shrouded in shadow. His voice was quiet when he said, “Yeah, you are. So what happens if you do take the throne?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re Wesen. A Wesen has never sat on the throne before, in any of the kingdoms.”

That was a fact Sean had been faced with every day of his life. If it weren’t for that fact, he could have had Eric killed in an ‘accident’ and taken the position of crown prince for himself a long time ago.

“There’s always a first for everything,” Sean said.

Nick shifted underneath him. “But what would you do about the Wesen in your kingdom?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think they’d see you as they’re, I don’t know, like a leader or something? And I don’t mean because you’ll be their king, but because you’re Wesen. You’ll give them hope. You’ll make them think they can become kings, too.”

“But-” Sean cut off, the words dying on his tongue.

He hadn’t thought about that.

He might start a revolution if he succeeded. The Wesen were kept under a tight leash by the Royals, not given any leeway to rebel even the slightest. Seeing another Wesen on the throne might unbalance the power the Royals had over them, might throw everything into chaos.

And they’d look to him for guidance.

He swallowed hard, and said, “I suppose so.”

Nick hummed, an unhappy little noise that made Sean frown. Nick might not have killed him for being Wesen, might’ve named his horse after one, but that didn’t mean he’d be happy with them gaining confidence after seeing a Wesen take the throne. He was still a Grimm, and Grimms were notorious for their hatred of them.

But that was a thought for another time. He still had Nick underneath him, with his omega smelling so sweet and ready. So Sean pressed another chaste kiss to his lips and said, “That’s unimportant right now. Don’t worry about what will be, just focus on what’s happening now.”

“No- wait, stop, just think about it for a moment. Actually think about what you’re trying to do.” Nick dropped his hands to the top of Sean’s head and skimmed his fingers down to his lips. He tapped one finger against the corner of his mouth where Sean’s woge revealed itself. “You’re a Wesen, and I’m a Grimm. That’s never been done before either. And you want to be king. You want to be a Wesen king with a Grimm mate. That’s- that’s absurd. Grimms and Wesen don’t do that. And even if you did manage to pull this all off, you, you said you want an heir from me, which has also never been done. That’s a lot of firsts for one man to do.”

Sean kissed the fingertips against his lips. “I’m an ambitious man.”

Nick snorted. “You’re a dead man.”

“Not yet.”

“Soon.”

Sean hummed. Nick was right, and he had been wrong. The Wesen wouldn’t look to him for guidance - they’d be outraged at his perceived betrayal for taking a Grimm as a mate. But there would be outrage on all sides should he ascend the throne with Nick as his mate. The Royals would hate him for being Wesen and for winning the tournament, as would the Grimms.

He would not come out of this with anyone on his side.

But he was used to that, just not at such a massive scale. He would survive, as he always had.

Sean caught Nick’s hands, gently pushing them back down by his head as he said, “I’m alive enough for this.”

Nick rocked against him. “Well get on with it then. I’m going to be old and gray by the time you get my pants off.”

Sean obliged the obvious request, shifting back slightly to give himself room to work Nick’s pants down just far enough that he could slip his hand between his bared thighs. The first press of his fingers against slick skin made Nick’s breath hitch, and Sean allowed himself a small smile.

“Just- quickly,” Nick mumbled, flexing his hips up to meet Sean’s hand.

Sean had no intention of going quickly. Not when he had Nick splayed out beneath him. He rubbed at him instead, right over where he needed it, keeping just enough pressure to barely press in. There was a huff, and then a hand was shoving his out of the way, fingers that were not his own taking his place. Sean’s smile widened and he caught Nick’s wrist before he could slide them inside, dragging his hand away and back up to the cushions beside his head with a firm, “No.”

“You’re so slow! I’m going to die before you do!”

“Oh? What’s going to kill you?”

“Boredom.”

Sean had to sit back at that, the sting of that one word cutting deep. He’d never bored any of his partners before. He could not be boring Nick now.

Unless his previous partners had been lying to him. He was a prince. They could have been-

No.

Nick pushed himself up on his elbows, the movement only recognizable by the way he appeared slightly raised up. His voice was all saccharine sugar when he asked, “Aw, did I hurt your feelings? Is the big bad alpha gonna cry because the little omega said he wanted to be fucked properly? If I’m too much for you to handle I could always go find your brother-”

He cut off as Sean shoved him back down into the cushions hard, snarling in his face as he forced Nick’s legs open wider and pulled himself out of his pants. It took only a second to hike Nick’s hips up, to line them up even as he tried to writhe out from underneath him, and then Sean was pushing inside. He bottomed out in one go - but Nick wasn’t as slick as he had been their first time, and though it took every single ounce of hard-earned self-control he had developed over his entire life to do it he stilled, just holding Nick down and keeping him full as he breathed through the itch of his woge threatening to rip free again.

Nick shifted slightly underneath him and Sean snarled again, unable to hold it back with the taunts still ringing in his mind. But Nick settled quickly in his grasp with a muttered, “Fuck, you’re big…”

“Bigger than Eric.” That was such a juvenile thing to say, so utterly petty, and it made him grimace the moment it left his mouth.

Nick laughed, too loud, and they both froze again. But there was no rustle this time, and Nick said, “Really? Did you guys pull your dicks out one day to compare sizes? Did he show you his knot, too? I bet it grows bigger than yours.”

Fuck but Nick needed to stop talking. Sean shut him up by crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss, one that Nick moaned into, biting back harder when Sean sank his teeth into his lower lip. Sean pulled away with a hiss, blood on his tongue, but Nick was laughing again as he rocked up against him and said, “Come on, Your Highness. Fuck me like it’s your last night alive.”

Sean shuddered at the title, at the insolent way it rolled off of Nick’s tongue as if he’d never shown anyone proper respect in his life, as if he was daring him to teach him how.

And Sean would.

Chapter Text

Sean was going to make him beg for it.

Pulling out was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but it was worth it for the way Nick squawked when he flipped him onto his belly, forcing his face into the cushions with a hand heavy of the back of his head to muffle his voice as he hiked his hips up and slammed back inside. The cushions sufficiently muted Nick’s yelp, and Sean groaned low in his throat as he clenched around him. Nick still wasn’t slick enough. He’d hurt him if he fucked him as rough as he was asking for.

But he couldn’t let the taunts slide.

Nick clawed at the hand on the back of his head, his laughter muffled by the pillow his face was crushed against. He managed to push Sean’s hand away just enough that he could turn his head to the side slightly and croon, “What’s wrong? Couldn’t fuck me on my back? I was able to fuck you just fine like that. I guess I’m just more of an alpha than you are.”

Sean closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, deep breath through his nose.

Impudent little shit.

Sean slid his hand down from the back of Nick’s skull to the nape of his neck, wrapping around it and holding him down from there instead. Nick let out a soft squeak and pawed at his hand, his body relaxing under his as he stuttered out, “Wait- you can’t-”

“No?” Sean bent down to growl in his ear, “I thought an omega like you couldn’t be scruffed. Guess you really are just a helpless little omega.”

“Wait,” he hiccuped, his voice weak. He’d stopped pawing at Sean’s hand, and lay lax underneath him now. “Sean- wait-”

“You told me to fuck you properly, like it’s my last night alive. So I’m going to do just that. You’re going to take my knot the way you were supposed to before, and I’m going to breed you like I should’ve done the first time.” He pulled out slightly, just enough for Nick to feel it when he slid back in.

Nick didn’t reply. It was unusual that he’d been able to for so long - scruffing usually subdued an omega faster than that. It wasn’t a tactic Sean enjoyed using. The way the hold forced an omega to become compliant when they were already so submissive left a sour taste in his mouth. An omega had tried to explain to him once that it didn’t hurt, that if a trusted alpha did it then it could even be enjoyable. Sean still refused to do it, and side-eyed those alphas that were quick to do so. It wasn’t something he’d ever even considered doing during sex.

But Nick would not stop talking.

Being scruffed must be the perfect punishment for him - it forced him to be everything he didn’t want to be. He would not be able to fight back anymore, could only take what Sean gave him.

When he didn’t squirm or spit out anymore taunts Sean nipped the curve of his ear and growled, “Good boy.”

Nick let out a faint whine.

Sean pulled in another slow, deep breath, then another, and another, until the itch of his woge faded again. Nick was not slick enough for this, and despite the way his blood was boiling in his veins he would not hurt his omega. So Sean pulled out again, quickly filling him with the fingers of his free hand instead. Nick was already able to take several fingers, and Sean grimaced. He hadn’t wanted to shove in like that. He’d meant to take his time, had meant to make Nick melt under his hands.

It took a few moments to find what he was looking for, but when he did Nick arched slightly against him with a soft moan. He rested his forehead against the back of his shoulder as he rocked his fingers against that spot, keeping the pressure on it as Nick’s thighs began to tremble against his and his voice became breathy. He kept going even when Nick was finally slick enough - he could make him finish like this, on his fingers, and take him when he was shaking and sensitive. If he did it right Sean could force him to finish a second time when he was full on his knot, could make him clench around him and feel exactly how big he was.

Sean bit out a curse and pulled his fingers free, using the slick on them to quickly wet his dick again before pressing back inside. This time the slide was easy, and Sean groaned deep in his throat at the tight, wet heat around him. Nick matched his groan with a sweet one of his own, still perfectly pliant beneath him, and Sean rewarded him by pulling out until just the tip was inside and then slamming back in.

He wanted it rough, he’d get it rough.

Sean set a brutal pace now that Nick was slick enough for it, but kept their hips from connecting lest the noise wake his father. He almost didn’t have the restraint left to refrain from filling Nick completely each time he shoved back in, but the threat of being caught held him back. Letting go like this was not something he’d ever done – omegas were delicate things, and he had always had enough to choose from that he’d never taken a beta to bed.

But Nick could take it, would take it. He held him down and ground into him, shuddering at the moans that spilled from Nick’s lips. Slick coated his thighs, made the air thick with the scent of Nick’s arousal, spurred him on to angle his hips just so until Nick was releasing little cries with every thrust.

He bent down to press his lips to Nick’s ear, “Is this how you needed it?”

Nick didn’t answer, couldn’t answer beyond another cry, his voice breaking over the noise.

Sean grunted, slowing down to pull Nick’s hips up. When he’d found his rhythm again he said, “You should have just said you wanted it rough. I’m happy to provide what you need.”

He’d never had an omega dare to challenge him like this before. It made his skin feel like it was stretched taut over his frame, made him feel like his blood was fire in his veins, made him feel like every breath he drew wasn’t enough, not deep enough not long enough not slow enough to soothe the itch of his woge threatening to break free.

It made him feel alive.

He bore down on Nick, crushing him into the cushions as he slowed down to a rough rut that kept them close. Nick was panting, sucking in desperate little gasps that must’ve left him light headed. He was taking him perfectly, exactly as he was meant to. Sean was going to keep him like this forever. Keep him full and needy and aching for his knot.

Except that his knot had other plans, seemed to have a mind of its own and apparently it intended to finish what he’d started. He groaned when it caught on Nick’s rim as it began to swell, slowing his pace even further to keep from hurting him.

He wanted- he wanted to hear it. Wanted to hear Nick as he tied them together, as he bred him full.

He lifted his hand from the nape of Nick’s neck, moving it to the back of his head where it had been before. It took a few moments before Nick reacted, and Sean just kept rocking his hips gently against him as his knot continued to steadily swell.

But then Nick sucked in a sharp breath, and then there was a soft squeak and a rough, “Oh fuck-”

“Shh,” Sean hushed, “You’ll wake my father.”

“You- you-” he squirmed, letting out that same sweet little moan he had when he’d ridden Sean’s knot as it tugged at his rim again. “Oh- oh fuck-”

“Hmm?” Sean repeated the motion, drawing back as if to pull out before pressing forward again. His knot couldn’t move much anymore, but it was enough to make Nick’s thighs spread and his voice crack over his moan.

“Wait,” he gasped out, rocking back into Sean despite the protest, “That’s- wait, oh, shit…”

“More?”

Nick let out a strangled noise. His hand slipped into the limited space between their hips from underneath them, his fingers brushing the base of Sean’s dick where it pressed into him as if to feel the way it stretched him open. “We can’t- you- oh…”

The coil of heat burning through him pulled taught as his knot finished locking them together. The world narrowed to his omega trapped beneath him as he spilled deep inside, his voice ripped from him in a long, low groan. He held Nick down through it, held him still as he was filled. A short eternity passed like that, and he was shaking slightly and panting when he came back to himself.

He’d never come so hard in his life.

All of his muscles had melted. His bones, too, and probably his skin. Sleep sang to him, tugged at the edges of his consciousness. 

But he couldn’t sleep yet. Nick was still squirming, still needy.

He was moaning softly and rocking his hips as much as he could with the knot in place and Sean’s grip so tight on his hip. His fingers had disappeared from between their hips, and when Sean released his hold to drape heavy over his back and tuck him comfortably underneath him he found Nick’s arm wedged under himself. Sean quickly grabbed it and ripped it free, catching his wrist again and pinning it back into place in the cushions as he said, “No hands.”

The words earned him a whine. “Sean…"

"Hmm?" He rocked his hips, taking care not to hurt Nick with the movement. Some omegas hated the way it tugged at them - apparently it felt like their alpha was attempting to leave mid-knot - but it seemed that Nick was firmly one of the ones who enjoyed it and Sean wasn't about to deprive him of that.

He was rewarded with a sweet moan and the press of Nick’s body as he arched against him. Sean pressed a kiss into his hair and murmured, "Like that?"

"Yes," Nick’s voice was breathy, breaking. Perfect for begging.

Sean slowed his pace further, down to a halting grind, stopping and starting again with increasingly longer pauses in between. He timed it with Nick’s labored breathing, with the way he tensed and quivered and his voice cracked just as he reached that edge, going still before he could find release. Nick started squirming again, tried to shove his other hand underneath himself, and Sean caught that wrist too and trapped it in place by his head.

"No hands," he reminded him.

"Sean…" His name sounded beautiful in that wrecked voice. Sean gave himself a moment to enjoy it before he continued to gently tug on his knot. Nick’s breath started hitching again, his body tensed up again, his thighs started quivering against his again.

Sean stopped.

"Wai- wait," Nick gasped, clenching around him hard and making Sean groan. "Wait, you-"

Sean started again, cutting him off, only to stop a few moments later.

"Fuck!" Nick choked out, tense and trembling and tight around Sean. He yanked at his wrists with a whimpered, "Oh fuck…"

"Shh," Sean hushed him gently.

"Sean, I-" He sucked in a sharp breath as Sean began to move, but he stopped almost as soon as he started and Nick whined high in his nose. "Wait, please-"

He moaned as Sean ground into him. Sean nosed at the back of his ear and asked, "What was that? You want me to stop?"

"No! No, please-" he cut off again as Sean repeated the motion, only to go still once more. Nick buried his face in the cushions and released a muffled, "Fuck…"

Sean nipped at the shell of his ear gently. Nick was perfect like this - desperate and utterly dependent on him for his release. "What’s wrong?”

“I’m- please, just let me-” Nick pulled at his wrists, but Sean held him firm. “My hands-”

“No. You’ll come just like this, from my knot, like the good little omega you are.” 

Nick shuddered with a soft, “That’s not…”

“No? You don’t want to come? I suppose if you really don’t want to-”

“No- don’t-” Nick let out a strangled sound and craned his head back enough to press a clumsy kiss to Sean’s jaw, mumbling, “Please…”

It was an appeasement tactic, sweet and desperate and all omega and Sean squeezed his eyes shut as heat seared through him at the display, burying his nose in his omega’s hair and breathing him in deep while he rocked their hips together, drawing out a low moan from deep in Nick’s throat. It wasn’t good enough, though, and he stopped as soon as he started, his voice rough as he asked, “Are you going to be good for me now?”

He wanted to hear him say it.

“Sean-”

“Are you?”

Nick sagged into the cushions under him, his voice small and broken as he said, “Yes…”

He’d never heard anything more beautiful. It was a simple thing, to twist his hips against Nick’s, to hold him down while he shook apart beneath him. It did not take much to make him arch and cry out and tremble in his arms. Nick came perfectly for him, locked on his knot and full of his seed.

He was never going to let him go.

A rumble started up deep in Sean’s chest as Nick sighed and went lax with satiation. The noise came unbidden, a rare occurrence that had only ever happened when he was younger, just after presenting, during the increasingly elusive moments of peace with his mother. He almost smothered the noise into silence, but then a softer, sweeter rumble rose from Nick’s chest as if in answer, and it made that warmth from before coil around his heart. It remained despite his attempt to stamp it out, and all he could do was curl around Nick, hold him close, and let that rumble slowly lull him to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next time Sean woke it was to the sound of someone clearing their throat.

He shot upright - he had all of his limbs, hadn’t been stabbed, didn’t seem to be poisoned, wasn’t restrained - but he wasn’t in the tent he shared with Eric. His gaze locked with his father’s, and he would have sagged back down into the cushions except that the body next to him had also shot upright and had thrown a pillow right into Frederick’s face.

The pillow dropped to the ground.

There was a moment of silence, of absolute stillness.

“Oh shit,” Nick breathed - and it was Nick, and Sean’s head snapped to face him, his eyes wide because Nick was in his makeshift bed because he had snuck in during the night and Sean had pinned him down and bred him and he was supposed to stay awake until his knot had shrunk so that he could ensure Nick made it back to his own tent and he hadn’t, he hadn’t and Nick was still there with him absolutely drenched in his scent with his pants pulled down to his thighs with his hair mussed and his clothes askew looking like he’d just been thoroughly fucked and Frederick just kept fucking staring at his exposed mate - 

His woge ripped through him, harsh, sudden, almost as sudden as the shirt clenched in his fist and the way he had Frederick pinned against the table nearby. His arm had already reared back, ready to strike, to kill - but it was caught, held firm, and when he turned to snarl at the new threat he was met with an identical snarl on Nick’s face.

“Stop it,” Nick spat. “You can’t kill the king.”

“If you’re going to kill me,” Frederick drawled, his voice soft but unwavering, “at least tuck yourself back in. It’s disgraceful.”

Sean looked back at his father. The man wasn’t snarling back at him, wasn’t challenging him. He wasn’t even attempting to defend himself. In fact, he looked like he always did - stern, and in complete control of the situation. Sean slowly released him. His father wasn’t a threat, wasn’t a rival alpha. His interest in Nick extended only so far as pairing him off with his son.

Sean took a deep breath and did as he was bid, adjusting his clothes and making himself as presentable as he could before turning to Nick. He’d already done the same, but Sean still stepped close to tug at his shirt and smooth some of the wrinkles. His hand was immediately slapped away with a scowl.

“Well, Nicholas,” Frederick said, “you might as well join us for breakfast, then.”

Nick turned his scowl on the king. The moment his gaze landed on him his shoulders hiked up, and a flush of pink tinged his cheeks. “No thanks.”

“Come now. You must be hungry after the night you two had. It sounded rather vigorous.”

Sean closed his eyes as Nick let out a strangled noise, drawing in a slow breath through his nose, his jaw clenched tight.

So Frederick had heard them, and just hadn't come out to investigate.

He opened his eyes again to find the flush on Nick’s cheeks had darkened to a pretty scarlet that Sean would have enjoyed more had the situation been different. Nick choked out, “No- that’s-”

“I expect you’ll be eating for two soon, won’t you? You can’t be skipping meals.”

Nick's gaze darted to Sean, his eyes wide as if asking for help. But there was nothing Sean could do - the king's will was law. Besides, this might be his chance to cement his position as Nick’s mate in his father’s mind and sway his favor away from Eric. So Sean offered Nick a small smile and said, “I think that’s a great idea.”

Nick gaped at him.

Frederick clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled! We can finally get to know each other properly."

Nick shook his head, holding his hands out in front of him as he took a step toward the tent flaps. "I would, but I have to go-"

"Nonsense! You're part of the family now. You'll eat here, with us, where you belong."

"But- my mother-"

"She's part of the family now too. She will always have a place at our table. She’s welcome to join us, should she like to." With that Frederick produced a small bell from his pocket and rang it. A servant popped their head into the tent, and he said, “Bring breakfast for three.”

The servant nodded and disappeared.

Nick took another step toward the tent flaps. “I can’t-”

“Of course you can. You need not worry - it is no trouble. There is plenty to eat.”

“No, I really can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

“Because-” he sucked in a short breath, and then blurted out, “Because I need to groom my horse.”

Oh, no.

He might have a smart mouth on him but apparently Nick was a terrible liar. It was endearing, in a way, that a fearsome Grimm would fail at the simple task of producing a convincing lie. Everyone in the court lied through their teeth. It was practically its own artform.

Nick seemed to realize exactly how flimsy his lie was the moment he’d said it, because he shrank in on himself. Sean nearly reached for him to soothe his obvious distress, but kept to himself in case he was bitten for his efforts.

Frederick didn’t call Nick out on his lie. Instead he nodded and said, “That’s quite alright. My men will take care of your steed for you while you eat. You can rest assured it will be in good hands - they are the best in all the kingdoms.”

Nick doubled down, his voice strained, “My horse is very finicky. He only lets me touch him.”

“Then I’m sure he can wait until you’ve had something to eat. You can’t do such a thing on an empty stomach.”

“No, actually, I prefer to be hungry when I do it. It gives me a sense of urgency, makes me complete my chores faster.”

“You’re the mate of a prince. You don’t have chores.”

Nick went silent, his lips drawn into a tight frown. Sean spoke before he could find his voice again, “Stay. I’m sure His Majesty would be happy to assure your mother you were well taken care of.”

“More than happy,” Frederick said. “In fact, I’m sure we can even find you some clothes to change into while we wait.”

Nick took another step back. “I like my clothes!”

Frederick raised a brow and waved at Nick’s torso. “You wish to walk around displaying evidence of your activities last night?”

Nick's brows furrowed, and his gaze dropped to his shirt, to the stain he had made when he had come.

“Oh no,” he uttered, hoarse, immediately concealing it as he hunched inward and turned away from them slightly. The flush covering his cheeks had spread to his ears, and he would not meet either of their gazes as he choked out a pathetic, “Yeah, okay.”

Sean couldn’t stop himself from reaching for him this time. He closed the distance with a few long strides and pulled Nick in against him, blocking him from his father’s sight with his body. Nick didn’t try to stop him, didn’t shove him away. Instead he hid his face in his chest and muttered something too quiet to hear.

“Splendid,” Frederick said, and strode across the tent to a trunk in the corner. Gold adorned the dark wood in the shape of a flame, and small, intricate carvings lined the lid. Frederick pushed it open and fished around inside, humming softly to himself as he did so. He pulled out a piece of fabric dyed the same deep crimson that Sean had worn the night before and held it up between his hands to reveal a simple tunic meant for traveling in. He closed the trunk again and returned to them, presenting the tunic to Sean. “He can change into this.”

Prying even one of his arms off of Nick when he was acting so vulnerable and smelling perfectly of him was almost physically painful, but Sean reached out and took it from him. It was soft in his hand, made of fabric reserved for Royalty. “This isn’t one of Eric’s.”

“No. It was brought for Nicholas.”

That made Nick pop out of hiding, his scowl back in place. “I have my own clothes, thanks.”

Frederick smiled at him indulgently. “The journey home is a long one. I ensured you would be comfortable during the trip. You have plenty others to choose from, if that one is not to your liking.”

“Oh. It’s…” Nick wrinkled his nose slightly. “Bright.”

Frederick chuckled. “An oversight. My apologies. My tailors will make your clothes in darker tones from now on, if that is your preference.”

Nick pursed his lips, but nodded ever-so-slightly. He pushed away from Sean and caught the hem of his shirt as if he meant to pull it off right then and there in front of Frederick. Sean quickly bit out, “Not here!”

Nick frowned up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He cut his hand toward his father. “You can’t change in front of him!”

“Why not?”

“It’s improper.”

Nick gave him a flat look. “He literally just saw me with my pants down. Changing my shirt in front of him isn’t a big deal.”

Sean shook his head. “It isn’t done.”

Nick’s gaze darted between them, his brows furrowing. “...So, you’re worried about him seeing… what, exactly? We’re all men here.”

“You’re an omega. It’s different.”

The words earned him a snort. “How?”

“He is correct. It is improper for an omega to bare themselves so freely before an alpha that isn’t their mate. I apologize for waking you two as I did, but rest assured I did not see much,” Frederick said, and waved at the screen set up by the basin. “You may change behind there.”

“You’re serious,” Nick breathed, eyeing them as if they were the ones who had tried to change in front of him. “It really isn't a big deal. I’ve changed in front of plenty of alphas before.”

Sean recoiled slightly as Frederick sucked in a sharp breath. But a smile was growing on Nick’s face, sharp and wicked, and he continued, “That’s right. Lots of them. As often as I can.”

And he grabbed the hem of his shirt again. Sean snatched one of his wrists before he could lift it and dragged him across the tent to the screen, shoving him behind it and tossing the tunic into his hands with a curt, “Change.”

Nick’s grin was all teeth, like a predator that had caught the scent of blood. “Afraid your father’s going to catch another eyeful? The horror.”

Apparently he’d forgotten his previous embarrassment, his flush faded to a faint hint of pink. So Sean said, “He’s already caught an earful. Do you plan to give him a show to supplement it?”

That made Nick’s grin flatten, made the pink darken again, and he did not say anything else as he reached for the hem of his shirt.

Sean himself hadn’t actually seen Nick bared yet, and though it was tempting to watch him change he turned his back to him to give him his privacy. They’d have to work on proper omega etiquette. Nick was going to learn that there were rules, and that the rules had to be followed. He couldn’t change in front of any other alphas. Only Sean was allowed to see him bare.

Servants filed into the tent bearing plates full of food. The table was set with efficiency, the food served, and with a sharp wave from Frederick the servant that had remained to attend to them as they ate left with the rest.

A hand pushed lightly at his back, and Nick said, “I’m done, you can look now. Your honor won’t get tainted by the sight of my bare chest.”

Sean turned around, and his breath caught. The crimson fabric flowed around Nick like liquid fire, made the blue of his eyes shine bright. Kronenburg’s color looked perfect on him, like he was always meant to wear it.

A dark shadow marring Nick’s throat caught his focus. The bruise stood out in stark contrast against the pale skin, against the rich red, demanding attention and keeping it there.

It was the mark he’d made during the night.

“What?” Nick asked, glancing down at himself and tugging at the tunic. “Does it really look that bad?”

Sean swallowed and shook his head. “No. You’re perfect.”

Nick looked up at him again, his eyes wide. His mouth opened as if to say something, and Sean leaned down and caught his voice between their lips. Nick pushed him away immediately, his scowl firmly in place once more as he shoved past him to stalk over to the table. Frederick smiled at Nick and spread his hands wide, saying, “You look lovely. Come. Let’s eat.”

The three of them settled at the table with Sean and Nick sitting next to each other across from Frederick. There was a moment of silence as they dug into their meals, and then Frederick cleared his throat and said, “Tell me about yourself, Nicholas.”

“I’m a Grimm,” he emphasized the words by stabbing his knife into the meat on his plate, but despite the aggressive act he kept his eyes downcast. “There’s not much else to say.”

Frederick smiled at him. “I’ve heard many stories about your people, and what they do. But none about you. What do you enjoy doing?”

Sean paused with his goblet of water held up to his lips. He’d never asked Nick that question before. It had never been important. But Frederick was a master diplomat, and could charm his way into anyone’s good graces.

Nick shrugged and said brusquely, “I like to hunt and fight, just like everyone else.”

He said it as if he actually thought that everyone enjoyed doing those things.

Well, he was a Grimm. Everyone he knew probably did.

“Yes, I suppose you are a Grimm, as you said,” Frederick mused, studying Nick. “You have been quite… outspoken during the tournament. Your… display… during the first trial was… impressive.”

The delicate delivery of his careful word choice almost made Sean snort. Almost, because that would be unbecoming of a future king.

Nick, however, did snort. “That’s right. I’m the Kessler heir. I was raised to kill.”

If he was trying to sour Frederick’s impression of him, he was doing a good job. Which he might actually be trying to do - Nick had said he didn’t want to be anyone’s mate. Sean kicked his foot gently, frowning at him. Nick didn’t even spare him a glance. 

Frederick stroked his short beard as he leaned back in his chair. “Indeed. You are quite… unique… for an omega.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. "No I'm not."

"No? You would not call that unique?"

"No. Every omega I know can fight."

Sean’s hand faltered on its path to his mouth. Nick had said the words so casually, but Sean didn't know any other omegas who could fight.

Frederick regarded Nick intently. "There are other omega Grimms?"

Nick nodded.

"And they are all like you?" He waved at Nick.

"What is that supposed to mean? Of course they're not like me. Everyone's different."

"Yes, of course. I meant only that you are quite unlike the omegas in Kronenburg’s court. They do not fight like you do."

Nick huffed. "Why would they? They're not Grimms. But I'm sure they are still good fighters."

"You misunderstood me. They do not fight at all."

Nick did meet Frederick’s gaze then. Frederick simply continued to smile at him, so Nick cast Sean a quick glance as if to confirm the words were true. When Sean nodded he turned back to Frederick and asked, "But… why?"

"It isn't proper."

Nick sucked in a sharp breath. "How do they defend themselves then?"

"They are protected."

"But how do they hunt?"

"They are provided for." Frederick’s smile dipped into a small frown. "You didn’t know?"

Nick shook his head. "Why would I? I've never left our borders."

"But surely your mother told you what is to be expected of you when you are brought home by your new mate?"

"She- she told me-" Nick chewed through the words as if they stuck to his tongue, "that I would be expected to- act… differently. But she didn't tell me that."

"It is true, as is what your mother says. You will be expected to behave like a proper omega."

There was a moment of silence. And then Nick tilted his chin up, each word full of conviction as he said, “I will never be like those omegas you have in your court.”

Sean clenched his fist around his fork. He might be willing to allow Nick his idiosyncrasies so long as he performed his duties as his mate, but Frederick would not.

Except that Frederick wasn’t reprimanding him, he was chuckling softly, and smiling at Sean and saying, “You two are perfect for each other.”

Sean smiled thinly back. The words were as much an insult as they were a compliment - no self-respecting alpha would tolerate such a difficult omega, and yet Sean was attempting to claim him as his mate. Eric would balk and turn his nose up at Nick if Frederick wasn’t likely forcing his hand. He preferred his omegas meek, subservient. He would never be able to handle Nick.

And Sean was aware that he himself wasn’t an ideal mate. Despite being a prince, he was still half-Zauberbiest, a species of Wesen that repulsed most potential partners. He might keep his woge under tight control, but even he couldn’t prevent his mate from finding out about it for forever.

“He hasn’t won the tournament yet,” Nick reminded them both.

Frederick raised a brow, turning his smile on him. “Hasn’t he? You are here, are you not?”

Nick flinched slightly and buried himself in his food.

He hummed. “I suppose the castle needed some livening up. You will be taught how to present yourself in public, but I see no harm in continuing on as you are when you are among family only.”

“That-”

“That is a discussion for another time,” Frederick said, cutting him off firmly. “Tell me, what are the things that only you like to do?”

Nick went quiet for a long moment, poking at his food with a small frown on his face. He was silent for long enough that Sean thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he finally spoke, his words halting as if still deciding whether or not to say them, “I… I like to draw. Sometimes… my mother brings home paint from her travels, and she lets me use them.”

Creating art didn’t seem like a very Grimm thing to do. They were warriors meant for battle, not artists meant for the canvas.

Frederick nodded. “And what do you like to draw?"

"...People."

"Anyone in particular?"

Nick shook his head.

"The man who paints my portraits is very talented," Frederick said. "If you'd like I can introduce you. I'm sure he would be delighted to teach you a few tricks."

Nick fiddled with his fork. "You would do that?"

"Of course. You're family - you deserve only the best."

Nick ducked his head and shoved some of his food into his mouth instead of answering.

Frederick raised his goblet at Sean slightly with a wink before taking a drink. Sean awarded him a strained smile in response. It seemed his father had accepted that Nick would be better suited as Sean’s mate, not Eric’s. Now all he had to do was convince him that Sean should be the one to succeed him.

Someone stepped into the tent, stopped, and released a strangled noise. Sean glanced over his shoulder.

Eric stood in front of the tent flaps looking like he’d just been slapped with a rotten fish full of maggots.

“Ah, Eric,” Frederick said. “Good. You’ve been getting ready for the trial, I presume?”

Eric jerked his hand at them, his voice harsh, “What is he doing here?!”

Sean was fairly certain Eric meant himself, but Nick went rigid beside him and bit out, “Eating breakfast.”

Eric’s eyes went wide and he shook his head, holding his hand up in placation as he took a step forward. “No- of course! I meant Sean. He is… needed elsewhere. But you are always welcome in our tents. Had I known you were coming I would’ve had the servants make you something special.”

“This is fine.”

“I apologize for missing your arrival - I’ve been preparing for the trial all morning.” He cast a sharp look at Frederick. “And nobody came to inform me that you were here. I would’ve stepped away at once to eat with you.”

“He didn’t arrive this morning,” Frederick said pleasantly. “Nicholas spent the night.”

Eric’s face went blank, his voice flat, “In here.”

“Where else?”

“With Sean.”

“Yes,” Sean said.

Eric’s gaze turned on him. Sean raised his goblet at him.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, “But he hasn’t won the tournament. He’s not going to win the tournament.”

“He will.” Sean turned to Nick, those two firm words ringing loud in the tent. Nick pushed himself up from the table, saying to Frederick, “Thanks for the food, and the change of clothes.”

Frederick smiled at him. “My pleasure. You are welcome to come by anytime you please.”

Nick bobbed his head and strode over to the screen, grabbing his shirt from somewhere behind it. Sean stood as well as he made his way to the tent flaps, following him out. Eric allowed Nick past without comment but stepped in front of Sean before he could slip out, leaning close to scent him with a grimace on his face. 

His grimace twisted into a full scowl, and he gritted out, “You are dead.”

“And yet I still live.”

“You will not last another day.”

Sean patted him on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel better to think so, do.”

With that he stepped out of the tent, scanning the area for Nick’s retreating form. He hadn’t gone too far yet, and Sean caught up to him with a light jog, slowing down as he approached to walk in-step with him.

Nick shot him a sour look and muttered, pitching his voice lower as if mimicking Sean’s, “Don’t worry Nick, I wake up before your mother Nick, I’ll make sure you get back to your tent Nick-”

He whirled on Sean, stopping him in place with a finger jammed into his sternum. “Nobody else is going to get the chance to kill you, because I’m going to fucking do it myself.”

Sean’s brows furrowed at the sudden aggression. “Why? Everything turned out fine-”

“Fine?!” Nick laughed, a harsh, derisive sound that didn’t belong on his tongue. “Your fucking father - the king - just woke us up when we were still-”

He turned away, covering the flush that had returned to his cheeks with his hands as he cried, “Fuck!”

“It’s not that bad-”

“It’s not-” he dropped his hands and whipped back to Sean to snarl in his face, “He heard us! How is that not- for fuck’s sake, I threw a pillow into his face! How is that not bad?!”

“My father didn’t seem to mind-”

“Your father didn’t- I do! I mind!” He turned away and buried his face in his hands again as he muttered, “I have never been so embarrassed in my life…”

“It’s not like he wouldn’t have smelled it-”

“But he didn’t have to hear it, too!” Nick dropped his hands again, pinning him in place with a scathing look that he must have learned from his mother. “How are you so unaffected by this?”

Sean frowned slightly. “I have bigger problems than my father catching me in bed with my mate.”

"I'm not your mate," Nick spat. "And he won’t be getting another chance to do so.”

“Well, obviously we’ll find a better place next time-”

“No we won’t, because there won’t be a next time.” 

Sean’s frown deepened, and he reached for Nick only for his hand to be swatted away with a snarl. “Where is this coming from?”

“Where is this-” Nick cut off with a scoff. “You fucking scruffed me!”

So that was the real problem. He was sour about being put in his place. It was something he was going to have to get used to if he kept stepping out of line. Sean might be willing to overlook his peculiarities to secure his throne but he would not allow his omega to disrespect him. He dealt with enough of that from everyone else.

Sean crossed his arms and stared him down. "I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn't provoked me."

"So that's just something you do, then? You get a bit angry and you force the omega you’re with to submit like that?"

"What? No. It isn’t something I enjoy doing. But you kept disrespecting me. I couldn’t let that go unpunished.”

Nick’s face screwed up. “Unpunished? You were trying to punish me? That’s what you thought you were doing?”

“Another alpha would have done it much sooner.”

“So that makes it better?! You shouldn’t have done it at all!”

Sean let out a slow breath, and said firmly, “I am fair. I will allow you to continue on as you are despite what my father might demand of you. But you will not disrespect me.”

Nick’s scowl was severe. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, because we’re never going to do that again.”

“You are my mate. You will have to bear me an heir.”

“I’m not your mate,” Nick repeated with a snarl. “And I never will be.”

Sean sighed. “We’ve been over this. Do you really want one of the other heirs to win?”

“I do now.”

The words made him recoil. “Excuse me?”

“Yup. Better them than you.”

Sean couldn’t speak for a moment, and when he did he only barely kept his voice even, “You understand what I said before is true, correct? You wouldn’t have been able to taunt them, because they would have scruffed you the moment they had you in their bed.”

Nick just stared him down over his nose despite the height difference. “At least they still won’t be you.”

A band of steel clamped around his chest, making breathing difficult. “That’s unfortunate. You’ll have to learn to accept your place at my side eventually, however, and I suggest you do so sooner rather than later. The festival is almost over, and you will be expected to start performing your duties as my mate immediately.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You know,” Nick said, his voice acidic, “my mother told me that Zauberbiests lack the capability to feel real emotions. That they don’t even have hearts. I always thought she was just making shit up, but I guess her stories are true.”

Sean’s jaw clenched tight enough to hurt. An acerbic response was stinging the tip of his tongue, begging for release, but he sucked in a slow, deep breath, then another, until the roil starting in his blood calmed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard the words before. Eric liked to remind him of the peculiarities of his species often. It was partially true - Zauberbiests and their female counterparts weren’t well-known for displaying genuine emotion. But that didn’t mean they lacked the ability to feel them.

And Sean might be a Zauberbiest, but he was also a prince, a future king. He would not lower himself to indulging Nick’s temper. When the impulse to lash out had been tamed, he lowered his voice down to that rough tone he’d used before to make Nick listen to him and said, “That’s enough.”

Nick recoiled as if slapped. But he did not speak up again, and Sean took another breath before saying normally, “Learn to bite that tongue of yours, or I’ll teach you how. Your mother might have allowed you to speak like that in her house, but you will not talk to me like that in mine. Understood?”

Nick just stared at him, so Sean repeated, “Understood?”

His lips thinned, and then he smiled and said, his voice soft and sweet, “But we’re not in Kronenburg, are we? You’re in my borders, in my home. Do you know what we do with your kind here? Of course you do. Every Wesen knows what would happen to them if they came face-to-face with a Grimm. And yet, somehow, you still live. Do you know why that is?”

Nick huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes, waving his hand through the air as if to dismiss the question. “Oh, wait, you know that answer too. You’re alive because I have stuck my neck out for you and saved your ass, multiple times, not just from my family, but from all of the Royal Families gathered here to fight to be my mate who have every right to kill you.”

Sean kept silent.

"And now," Nick said, his voice turning harsh, "everyone has seen me defend a Wesen. Do you know how many people I've told about Monroe? None. I've told no one. Nobody else knew that I think that way about Wesen, and now fucking everyone knows. If it weren't for this fucking festival my family would've - well, I don't know what they would've done to me, because it's never happened before. Grimms don't defend Wesen."

"Then why did you tell me?" Sean asked softly.

Nick waved his hand through the air between them. "Because this - us - was never supposed to happen! You were a nobody, just some nameless knight with a handsome face and a nice ass that I could have some fun with and then never see again! It was supposed to be harmless - I’d get to piss off my mother for doing this to me and she probably wouldn’t have killed you for it. And yeah, so you turned out to be Wesen, like, fuck, but even if you told anyone about what we did or what I said no one would've believed you. They would've laughed in your face, and I would've gone on to mate with the winner of the tournament and forgotten all about you. You were never supposed to be a fucking prince!"

Sean nodded slowly. It made sense, then, why Nick had accepted his advances so easily. "But it worked out for the best, didn't it? You won't have to mate with one of the other heirs anymore."

"I still might! But even if I don't now everyone knows!"

"What, that you're a good person?" 

Nick recoiled, his voice dropping low, hushed, "Excuse me? I'm good? As in, my family- no, my whole race is bad for doing what they do?" 

Fuck. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? Explain to me how that isn’t what you meant.”

Sean drew in a slow, deep breath, and then said carefully, “Grimms are like the wolves in a forest hunting deer. It is simply what they do, just like eating the plants is what the deer do. If the wolves did not hunt them then there would be too many deer, and then there would be no forest because they would eat it all. And Grimms are not the only hunters in the forest, they are just the ones with the sharpest teeth. Plenty of Wesen hunt too, as do humans.”

Nick’s scowl was severe. “That’s a lot of words to not explain how that makes me a good person. If it’s supposedly natural for us to do what we do, then you just said that I’m- that I’m the one who’s broken.”

“No, Nick-”

“You’re Wesen,” he spat, cutting his hand through the air at Sean. “What would you have done, if it hadn’t been me? What was your plan? Any other Grimm wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you.”

Sean kept silent again.

The smile that sliced across Nick’s face was razor sharp. He stepped close to Sean, pressing his hand to his chest and leaning into him to murmur, “I should have done it. I should’ve killed you the moment you woged. I should have taken your rotting head right off of your shoulders. But I didn’t, did I? You have not thanked me for letting you live yet, or for convincing my aunt to spare your life immediately after, and then my mother after her when we returned to our tent that night. I have spent the entirety of this festival since then fighting for your life, and instead of showing gratitude you lost your temper over a few harmless taunts.”

He stepped away and lifted his shoulders in a shrug, spreading his hands apart. “I was always told that Royalty conducted themselves better than that. That they didn’t feel threatened by taunts because they were secure in their standing. But that was my mistake. I must have forgotten somehow that you’re just a half-breed. I might be a broken Grimm, but you’re not a real Royal.”

Sean’s teeth were going to crack from how hard he was clenching his jaw. Unclamping it took considerable effort, but when he succeeded he ground out, “I apologize. I didn't mean to imply that you are in any way broken. You’re not. I like how you are.”

“You like that I didn’t kill you. You like that I’ve been going along with your plan, and that I’ve been helping you because I have no other choice. You don’t actually like me, you never did. You don’t like how I am.” 

“I do like you-”

“Liar.” Nick huffed, his eyes narrowing to thin slits. “Just remember - you haven’t won the tournament yet. And you won’t.”

He spun on his heel and left without another word. Sean watched him disappear around the side of one of the other tents, and then blew out a rough breath and dragged his fingers through his hair.

That went well.

He didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it, though. He had a gorgon to kill.

Chapter Text

Sean carefully tied the strip of cloth Nick had given him the night before to his wrist. It was a simple piece of black fabric, made of the same material as his clothes. Sean had found it tucked in among the cushions, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

It smelled like him.

The magic sword he had stolen from Hadrian was already strapped to his hip in place of his usual sword. Frederick had delivered a sheath for it as promised, though how he had procured one that fit the blade so quickly was a mystery. Part of Sean suspected that he had secured it from Hadrian as payment for their continued silence over the Klinnheim’s use of magic. Using the sword could disqualify him, but there was no doubt in his mind that every single one of the other contestants would be equipped to the teeth with any means at their disposal to kill the gorgon.

None of the kings wanted to lose their heirs.

None of the kings wanted to lose the tournament.

Frederick had also provided him with a set of armor. It sat light over his frame, lighter than the full plateware the knights wore but nevertheless a comforting weight. It wouldn’t weigh him down during battle, and seemed strong enough to deflect the swipe of claws.

Sean sighed and stopped tugging on the knot he’d made. It was time.

He slipped out of Frederick’s tent. Frederick was standing outside with Eric, talking to him in a low voice. Eric was wearing his own armor, a custom made set fit for the crown prince with Kronenburg’s flame in gold on the front. Despite dressing like a knight he appeared as he always did - incompetent and worthless.

The two men looked up as he approached, and Frederick eyed him with a small nod. “You’re ready. Good. They are going to make the announcement soon. Let us go.”

Crossing the festival grounds alongside his father felt right. Like he belonged at his side. He’d spent the beginning of the festival lurking in the shadows, skulking about like a disease-ridden Reinigen when he should have been competing in the tournament from the start.

But now he was. They stopped before the raised platform alongside the other heirs, and he gazed up at his prize.

And frowned. Nick had always been pale, but now he looked ashen. He was holding his stomach with one hand and hunched in on himself slightly as if he’d taken ill in the short stretch of time since Sean had seen him last.

The food they’d eaten together hadn’t been rotten. It had been served to a king and his family - the meat would have been recently caught and butchered, and tested for quality and poison before being served. Frederick didn’t appear to have suffered any ill-effects, and Sean himself felt fine.

Unless-

No.

Sean gritted his teeth, his woge itching under his skin.

Unless Kelly had given Nick the herbs to prevent his seed from taking hold.

The herbs caused illness. Sean only knew because he’d taken care of his mother when she’d used them after spending time with Frederick. Omegas were forbidden from taking them without their alpha’s permission - and Sean never would have allowed Nick to take them, but Kelly was still his acting alpha. She would’ve immediately known what they’d done and would’ve been livid, possibly so much so that she was beyond appeasement. She would have forced Nick to take the herbs whether he wanted to or not.

But the effort was useless, because Sean would simply breed him again.

He forced his woge back, forced his jaw to unlock and his muscles to loosen. Kelly was stepping forward now, and he couldn't afford to miss what she had to say.

The glare she cast upon the remaining heirs lined up before her was severe. "All of you heard last night that the third trial is a quest - you will bring my son the heart of a gorgon. The beast's lair is to the east. As it is a day's journey away the tournament will be extended. However, the tournament will end the moment the heart is in my son's hands. Whoever can place it there wins. And as it seems you are all eager and ready to depart, you will be provided the location now instead of at midday."

A woman in black stepped forward and gave each of the heirs still competing a small scroll. Sean unfurled his to reveal a simple map to a cave. He glanced over at Eric’s before he could roll his back up, and his brows furrowed.

Their maps were different.

Kelly spoke up again, “This is your final chance to prove your worth. Fight hard. Show us what the kingdoms’ future leaders are made of. You may begin your quest now.”

A ripple of excitement tore through the crowd. Javier and Yvette spun on their heels and stalked away to the horses being held for them nearby. Eric quickly followed after, but Sean hung back, waiting as the Grimms stepped off of the raised platform. Before he could say anything, however, Frederick called out, “Is Nicholas well?”

The Grimms stopped. Kelly and Marie stared Frederick down with equally hostile snarls, while Nick just looked like he might be sick.

“He’s fine,” Kelly bit out. “Just ate some bad food.”

Sean’s brows shot up.

“Did he, now?” Frederick asked, his voice soft. “Are you suggesting I would feed my family rotten food?”

“Your family?!” She scoffed, her hand wrapping around the hilt of her sword. “You overstep yourself. Eric has not won the tournament yet.”

“No. But Nicholas has already taken Sean as his mate-”

“That Wesen-” she spat the word as if it were poison on her tongue, “will never be my son’s mate. You are a Royal. How could you taint your bloodline like that?!”

Frederick’s pleasant demeanor dropped. Sean snapped to attention without his consent as Frederick’s voice went low, all alpha king as he said, “You might be the Grimm matriarch but you will do well to remember that I am the king of Kronenburg. You will show me and mine due respect. It would be a shame for there to be ill will between our people over a few words spoken without consideration when we have coexisted peacefully for generations. Your people hunt on our southern border during the harsh winter months, do they not? I would hate for them to be deprived of such a bountiful resource.”

A muscle in Kelly’s jaw twitched. Her knuckles were stark white where she gripped the hilt of her sword, her entire frame as rigid as stone. A lesser alpha would have bared their throat and bent their knee for Frederick. In fact, almost every alpha Frederick asserted dominance over did - aside from the other kingdoms’ leaders.

But Kelly was poised as if to eviscerate him.

A moment passed. Kelly released the hilt of her sword, staring down at Frederick over the tip of her nose as she matched his tone, all alpha Grimm in the face of his alpha king, “Neither of your sons have won the tournament yet. But even when both fail, you will still be indebted to us for not killing Sean the first time he laid hands on Nick, and further indebted for allowing him to compete when you already have one son in the tournament. The other kingdoms have not received such a blessing, and it would be in their right to challenge you over it, especially as he has no legitimate claim to your throne. He is not worthy of being our heir’s mate. And the fact that your half-breed bastard still stands beside you unharmed after touching Nick again is a further debt to pay. Instead of threatening us over a few words spoken without consideration, you should be thanking us.”

Sean’s gaze darted back to Frederick, his eyes wide. Frederick’s eyes had narrowed, his lips had thinned, and the lines of his face had drawn taut. The king opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Nick made a choked noise and staggered away with his hand over his mouth to a nearby tree. Marie followed after him immediately, and Sean took a step forward to do the same. Kelly blocked him off before he could go any further, aiming her snarl at him now.

"He is ill because of you," she spat. "Leave before I lose the last of my patience. You have a trial to die in."

Frederick waved Sean off as well with a curt, “Go. The rest of the heirs have already left.”

Sean cast one more glance at Nick hunched over by the tree before he nodded and strode away to his horse. The saddlebags had been packed for the journey by one of the servants - another unexpected gift from Frederick - and all he had to do was take the reins from the servant holding them and mount his horse before he could set off.

But his map had been different from Eric’s. It had directed him east toward where the cave supposedly was, but from the glimpse he had caught of the map in Eric’s hands he was supposed to follow a river. Sean’s led him through a gully.

The Grimms had never intended for him to reach the gorgon. They likely had an ambush in place ready to kill him.

He needed to see Eric’s map again. Eric couldn’t have gone far - he had only just left. Sean mounted his horse, and as he did so a small crowd swelled around him, blocking his path, flinging curses from their tongues and stones from their hands. Kronen knights surged toward him with their swords drawn, but before they could intervene a few nearby peasants woged and launched themselves at the perpetrators. A brawl broke out around him, bloody with the flash of claw and fang.

He did not have time for this. Yvette and Javier were already long gone, and if Eric disappeared into the forest before Sean could catch him then he’d never get a map with the right directions. 

"Your Highness!"

Sean’s gaze snapped to the man who had shouted - it was one of the knights, and he had forged a valley between the tussling peasants. The gap was closing, and Sean urged his horse into a brisk trot, guiding it through and out of the mass of bodies.

He'd never seen such flagrant disrespect of Royalty before. Then again, he'd never seen another Royal hybrid. 

It didn't matter. What mattered was getting that map. Sean kept his head high as he rode on, scanning the field before him for a glimpse of Eric’s chestnut horse. His steed was hand-picked, broken and trained perfectly, truly fit for the crown prince. Eric did not deserve it. Sean had had to break and train his own blue roan stallion himself, but the bond he'd formed with his horse from doing so couldn't be replicated.

He was approaching the stables when he caught sight of Eric in the distance, his horse stopped at the edge of the forest while he looked at his map. But just as Sean was guiding his horse toward him a familiar black horse was led out of one of the stable’s stalls by a familiar figure cloaked in all black.

It wasn't even a decision.

Sean veered to the stables, urging his horse to trot faster. He made it just as Nick had mounted and guided his horse in front of him, blocking his path.

"Sean!" Nick hissed. "Go away!"

"You must be feeling better." Sean tilted his chin at him. He didn’t look better at all. Nick was still paler than usual and kept swaying like he was about to fall off of his horse. "Or, at least I assume so, if you're out here on your own riding your horse."

"Don't you have a quest to die in? Everyone else is already long gone by now."

"You're more important."

Nick scoffed. "More important than your crown?"

"I can't get my crown without you," Sean said simply, and sighed when Nick just quietly glowered at him and continued to sway in place. "What are you doing out here? I just saw you with your aunt. How did you manage to slip away from her this time?"

Nick dragged his hand over his face and blinked hard a few times before answering, "I… I told her I was going to sleep for a while, and convinced her that I could make it to our tent on my own. She was arguing with your father when I left. I think some of the other kings had joined in."

"And what were you planning on doing?"

"I… I was going to make sure no one could get the gorgon's heart…" his voice had gone weak, and his hand had returned to his stomach.

Sean frowned. "By doing what? Killing them?"

"What? No! I was going to get the heart mysel-" he cut off, slapping his hand over his mouth and clumsily throwing himself off of his horse. He landed gracelessly but remained on his feet, and Sean was already off of his own horse and rushing to his side as he hunched over by the stables. Sean smoothed his hand in small circles over his back, murmuring nonsense under his breath until Nick stopped heaving unproductively. Nick tried to push his hand away, but there was no force behind it, and Sean was easily able to guide him down to sit on the ground with his back against one of the stable's posts.

"Why are you still here?" Nick mumbled quietly. "You're going to lose."

"You're more important," Sean repeated, and settled down on the ground beside him, tucking him in close to his side. Nick barely resisted, pushing at him weakly with a grumble but not breaking out of his hold. Sean wouldn't have let him, not with him so vulnerable and exposed where any vengeful Wesen could seek retribution or an opportunistic alpha could take advantage of him. Sean hadn't stopped scanning their surroundings since he'd arrived, alert to the point of pain. If he were a lesser alpha he would've already attempted to drag Nick back to his father's tent where he could hide him away from threats. The urge to do so was strong, but Nick would've fought him the entire way and then left the moment Sean took his eyes off of him. Not to mention the fury doing so would incite in Nick’s already enraged family. 

So instead he held him close and said, "You made a good effort, though, if foolish. Not many would have gotten this far in your condition."

Nick shoved his finger into the armor covering Sean’s chest without any force. "I'm like this because of you."

"I know. I apologize. I hadn't realized your mother would make you take the herbs." He paused. "She didn't make you take them the first time?"

Nick huffed. "She didn't make me do anything - I would've done it anyway. But yeah, I had to take some the first time too to calm my mother and aunt down. It was less though, and I didn't get sick like this."

Sean’s grip tightened around Nick at the admission, a band of steel locking around his chest and stealing his breath. "You wanted to take the herbs?"

"You haven't won yet," Nick reminded him, again. "Someone else could still win, and then I'd have to bear their heir, not yours."

"But you came out here to stop them."

"And you."

They both went quiet for a long moment.

Nick was the first to break it, "You should leave."

Sean pressed a kiss into his hair. "I have some time."

"No you don't."

"No, not really. But I'll figure it out." He wouldn't be able to figure it out, because Eric had disappeared from the treeline. He was fucked. All he could do now was hold his omega and wait for one of the other heirs to come back with the heart. He might still be able to steal it from them before they could place it into Nick’s hands. It was his only chance.

Nick sighed heavily and dropped his head onto his shoulder, going lax against his side, which couldn’t have been comfortable given that Sean was wrapped in metal. His fingers found the piece of cloth tied around Sean’s wrist, and he tugged at the knot gently. “You’re bringing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

There was a moment of silence. When Nick finally spoke, his voice was soft, “Well, it can’t help you here. So go.”

"...I can't."

"...Why not?"

"It seems I was given the wrong directions. Your family doesn't want me to reach the gorgon's cave. I suspect they intended an ambush at the location they had marked on my map."

"What?" Nick tried to push himself away, but Sean kept him close easily. He gave up with a click of his tongue and held out his hand instead. "Show me your map."

So Sean procured his map for him to see. The moment Nick unfurled it he shook his head and said, "This is wrong."

"So it seems. I was attempting to chase down my brother to take his map from him when I saw you."

"Why did you stop?"

"I saw you."

Nick pulled back enough to squint up at him. "You gave up your chance to get a map with the real directions, the only way to complete your quest and get your crown, because you saw me?"

When Nick put it like that it sounded horribly foolish. "...Yes."

"Even after I said all that shit to you, you still did that." Nick was looking at him with an expression Sean couldn't decipher now, which was unusual, and it made his stomach flutter, which was very unusual.

"You are sick. And you are stubborn enough to do something like try to take the gorgon's heart for yourself when you can barely sit on your horse. Of course I stopped."

"Mhmm." Nick leaned forward and brushed a clumsy kiss to his jaw, murmuring, "Thank you."

That infernal warmth blossomed in his chest again and refused his attempts to eradicate it, so he set his jaw tight and nodded curtly and stared out at the field instead of those eyes that gazed up at him.

Nick rustled around in his clothes for a moment, and Sean glanced back down to find he had a piece of charcoal in his hand and was scribbling something on the map. Lines took shape, and very quickly the map was redrawn such that it appeared similar to what Eric’s had been. Nick tucked the charcoal away again and presented the map to him, saying, "There. You should be able to find the gorgon now."

Sean accepted it gingerly, swallowing hard.

Nick wanted him to find the gorgon.

Nick still wanted him to win.

"Thank you," he said, his chest tight and altogether too full with that uncomfortable warmth. He carefully tucked the map away again, and caught Nick’s hand to press a kiss to his palm. His fingertips had been stained black from the charcoal, and they twitched when Sean’s lips touched his skin. Sean pulled back and asked, "You carry charcoal with you?"

Nick nodded. "It's useful. But you really should go now. The others are probably far ahead of you."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Go." Except that his voice still wavered, and he leaned heavily against Sean. If Sean moved he would probably fall over.

So he didn't. He had the real directions now, and a gorgon was hard to kill. He still had some time. 

He pressed another kiss into Nick’s hair and asked, "Trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes."

There was no heat behind the quip. It seemed he would have to become used to Nick’s retorts - even while ill he still found the energy to spit them out. Sean hummed and settled himself more comfortably against the stable gate. "Too bad."

Nick snorted softly, the puff of his breath fanning out warm over Sean’s throat. His voice was a slightly slurred mumble as it wrapped around the words, "You're going to lose."

He'd already won. He had the prize curled up in his arms while the others ran off to die. "Will I?"

Nick didn't answer beyond a heavy sigh. He slowly went still, his breathing evening out, his body a lax weight against Sean’s side. Sean looked down at him, then at their horses grazing nearby, then at the field stretching out before them.

Well, he couldn't move now.

Chapter Text

Marie was the one who found them.

"Aren't you supposed to be dying?" she spat at Sean.

Sean raised a finger to his lips, and said, hushed, "I was preventing Nick from going after the gorgon."

Nick stirred despite his efforts and blinked blearily at them. He had a red line on his cheek from the strap of Sean’s armor, and a tuft of his hair on the side of his head was sticking up. He pushed himself up slowly, steady only with Sean’s hands holding him up, and mumbled, “Is the festival over?”

Marie’s snarl softened into a small frown. She crouched down in front of them and brushed her fingers through Nick’s hair, her attempts to smooth the wayward curl completely thwarted as it sprang back up. “Not yet. Come on. You can’t fight anything like this.”

Nick scowled at her, but the effect was ruined by the yawn that nearly split his face in two, slightly mangling his words, “I- I can still fight better than those alphas.”

“Of course you can. Come.” She gently detangled him from Sean’s arms and heaved him to his feet, holding him up without any apparent effort. Marie cast a withering glare at Sean, her words made of splintered glass, “Go. Die in your quest. Do not come back.”

Sean offered her a small smile. “I will return, and I will have the heart in hand.”

“You will never make it to Nick. I won’t let you.”

Nick sighed and mumbled, “Aunt Marie…”

“You would interfere in the tournament?” Sean asked.

Marie’s lips thinned. “Even should you survive to hand it to him, you will not live long after.”

Nick clicked his tongue. “I won’t let you kill him.”

“You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Aunt Marie-”

“No,” she cut him off firmly, “it’s for your own good. I won’t let you make the same mistake I did.”

Nick pulled away from her slightly, his brows furrowed. “What mistake?”

Marie shook her head and tugged him back in against her. “Come. The rest of the competitors won’t be back for several days. The kings of the losing kingdoms have demanded that their heirs get a chance to speak with you during the quest, and you can’t be ill while you do so.”

“Wait-” he resisted as she tried to lead him away, digging his heels into the ground with little effect, “My horse! I have to put Monroe back in his stall!”

Marie sighed and turned to Sean. “Be a good boy and take his horse back to its stall.”

The corners of Sean’s mouth tugged down, but he nodded when Nick cast a glance back at him and said, “Of course.”

The words earned him a small smile from Nick. Marie gently guided him away, and Sean was left to tend to his horse. 

Now that he was no longer trapped under Nick though he needed to move quickly - the sun had sailed across the sky since the other heirs had left and was now at its peak above him. He had lost precious time, and would need to ride hard to make up for it.

Nick’s horse went easily when he caught its reins and led it back to the stall it had been in. Sean hesitated for a moment before blowing out a harsh sigh and roughly removing its saddle and bridle. Nick would probably be displeased to find he had left them on it despite the urgency he was faced with.

With that done he mounted his own horse again and pulled out his map. After a quick comparison with the direction the sun had risen from he tucked it away and set off, urging his horse into a brisk trot.

The forest rose up before him. The trees closed in around him as he rode inside, quickly forcing him to reduce his speed. He did not know this forest like Nick did, did not know it like he knew the one near the castle. But game trails were game trails, and eventually they led to water. He might not know the extent of the forest, but he need only follow one to find the river marked on his map.

The light streaming in through the canopy above had begun to grow warm and hazy with the steadily sinking sun when he found the river. Except that it was not a river, it was a stream, a shallow trickle of water winding around rocks and under arching roots as it made its way through the forest. There was barely enough for his horse to slake its thirst from, but there was evidence that the other competitors had passed through the area so he did not stop long, urging his steed to continue now that he had found his path forward.

The stream brought him deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees leaned in close when he passed, and the bird calls took on a hollow twang to them, as if made of metal. Sunlight steadily faded, and he carefully lit the torch that had been tied to his horse’s saddle before continuing on. His horse was tired, its breathing heavy and its steps starting to fumble. He finally stopped when his horse’s hoof slipped and nearly took them down. A quick inspection proved that there was no injury, and he patted its nose and tied its reins to a low hanging branch before settling down for the night himself. He would get no further without his horse, and he needed all the rest he could get.

But this deep in the forest the night creatures proved different than those that had sung him to sleep by the lake, and he did not find much rest as they taunted him with shrieking calls that echoed on all sides of him. When day came and the creatures finally went silent he heaved himself back up, dragged his hand over his face, and then forced himself onward. An examination of his horse proved it was fit for travel, and with an offering of some of the feed packed in a sack in his saddlebags it perked up and nosed at his hand.

He mounted his horse and took off again without much delay, and continued to follow the stream deeper into the forest.

Only to stop again soon after, drawing up short as he approached a riderless horse.

He drew his sword as quietly as he could. The horse wasn’t tied off to anything. It was destroying one of the bushes lining the base of the trees, flicking its tail as it chewed its way through the leaves. The birds sang their songs, the forest creatures rustled in the treetops. The stream had widened slightly, and burbled gently at his horse’s hooves.

He dismounted slowly and approached the other horse. It wasn’t Eric’s. Its coat was a dappled gray, the spots soft against a background of white, and its saddle was slightly different from those found in Kronenburg. It flicked its tail at him but didn’t startle when he brushed his hand along its side, just huffed out a breath and reached for the lowest branch on the nearest tree to start eating that instead.

He crept around the area, his sword ready for an attack that never came. There was no one lurking in the bushes, no ambush poised to strike. There was, however, blood on the ground nearby, and boot scuff marks in the dirt highlighted by splatters of more blood leading further up the stream. He followed them, ears pricked and muscles tensed.

A body lay strewn upon the rocks in the stream.

It was a man - Javier, and he did not move as he approached. Sean kicked his boot. He did not so much as twitch, or make any sort of sound. 

Javier had been healed enough to fight again in the second trial, but magic could only do so much for an injury like the one Sean had inflicted upon him. Time was what was needed to fully mend his wound, and Javier had been given none. Yvette or Eric could have taken advantage of that. But he might not have been killed, and if he wasn’t he could still wake up and attempt to complete the quest. Sean took off his glove and risked bending close to place his hand in front of his mouth.

A soft puff of breath caressed the back of his hand.

Sean’s lips thinned as he pulled his glove back on. Whoever Javier had fought with had left him alive. He should not do the same.

He pressed his sword to his throat.

But Javier might still die. He might bleed out or be eaten by one of the predators in the forest. And if he did survive long enough to wake it might be too late for him to interfere with the quest.

Nimier would make a valuable ally. Together their kingdoms could crush any opposition. Javier would be king one day, should he live, and while there was tension between them now over Nick he would see reason and come to accept Sean as Kronenburg’s new king. It would be unwise for him not to.

Sean withdrew his sword from his throat.

His horse was where he’d left it, and he continued along the stream past Javier’s still form without sparing him a glance.

Chapter Text

The cave was more of a hole in the ground than an actual cave.

Eric’s horse was already there, tied out in the open where anyone could kill it. Sean almost cut it down, but Eric was probably already a statue and would never ride it again so he untied it and hid it next to his own instead. 

It was a fine steed. He’d give it to Nick.

Bringing it back with him through the forest would slow him down though, so he needed to act quickly. Yvette could be anywhere - she could have already killed the gorgon and taken the heart and started the return trip back to Nick. But she’d likely take the same route back along the stream, and Sean hadn’t passed her on his way to the cave.

The cave itself was marked by a tree shattered by lightning. The ground sloped down to the root-covered entrance, the inside untouched by the sun’s rays. The stream swept close, curved, and wandered away, but it had been enough for him to easily spot the landmark tree as he approached.

The statues of travelers frozen in place around the entrance helped.

The first one he’d seen had been further down the stream. The young man seemed to have been gathering water - he was crouched by the stream with a flask in his hand, and had turned around to look at something behind him. The entirety of him had been turned to stone, even his clothes and his flask. Bits of plants had begun to grow on him, and bugs hummed about his still form giving the stone the illusion of life.

Sean had stood next to him for a long time - too long - staring down at those gray eyes that never blinked.

The next statue had appeared a short distance from the first one, and then after that they dotted the forest around him as if watching his progression toward the monster’s lair. The entrance was guarded by them, their frozen forms warding off wayward travelers from seeking shelter in the cave.

Sean passed by all of them as he slowly approached the entrance. He wouldn’t be able to see anything in there unless he used a torch, but he wasn’t supposed to look at the gorgon anyway. Eric or Yvette might have lit a torch, though, and there was no way to know for sure if he’d be turned to stone for laying eyes on the gorgon regardless of whether he could actually see it or not. The stories didn’t go into the semantics about what it actually meant to look at a gorgon.

So he untied the piece of cloth from around his wrist and secured it over his eyes.

His skin prickled as the breeze rushed past. The song his new sword sang as it slid out of its sheath was a sweet symphony. The hilt was warm through his glove, like a handshake from an old friend. He held the sword out, testing the space before him with a slow swing. The tip dragged against the roots covering the entrance.

He stepped through.

The roots brushed heavy against him. The dirt crunched lightly underfoot. His boot kicked a small stone, and the clack of it hitting another rock echoed in the mouth of the cave.

There was a piercing screech from further in the cave, as if the gates of Hell were grinding open. It rang in his ears, made him double over with a grunt.

Fighting the gorgon in the cave was foolish. But unless Yvette or Eric drew it out he had no choice, and that screech might have meant that someone had dealt the monster a blow. If one of the other alphas had managed to kill it then he needed to act fast to steal the heart before they could escape with it. So he continued on, feeling his way along the cave wall as he went.

Rocks threatened to trip him. Roots smacked him in the face. A bug landed on his cheek, and he quickly flicked it away.

This was no place for a prince.

Or maybe it was exactly the place for a prince. Quests used to be the accepted method of proving an heir’s worth to ascend the throne before they were deemed barbaric - too many firstborn heirs died. So it was fitting, in a way, that the third trial before he acquired both his mate and crown should be a quest.

Another screech rang out, louder this time. He doubled over again, pressing his free hand to his ear. It faded, and he slowly uncurled himself, a high-pitched note ringing faint in his ears. He should have brought something to plug his ears with instead of a blindfold.

His next step landed on something hard that crunched under his boot. Not a rock, not a root, not a torch. He bent down and ran his hand over it.

It was a bone.

Ah. Well. He was in the lair of a monster, and monsters had to eat too. The next step he took landed on another one though, and then he stepped on another one after that.

The ground was covered in them. That was inconvenient. They might cause him to slip or trip while he fought. He could use them as weapons if needed though. He could break a few of the longer ones and use them as makeshift spears that he could throw at the gorgon. But hitting a target he couldn’t see would be difficult. Then again, he was in a cave. There wasn’t much else for him to hit. Except that the gorgon could simply charge him and close the distance before he could even throw it. No, it was better to rely on his sword.

He tensed at the clatter of bones from somewhere in front of him. There was a crack, and a squelch, and the sound of something wet slapping onto the bones.

The air became tinged with the scent of blood.

His stomach rolled at a slurping noise followed by a grunt.

It was feeding.

It was distracted. He dropped into his stance and raised his blade, stepping as light as he knew how toward the monster. But the bones clattered under his feet, and the noises stopped.

He froze.

There were hisses, like dozens of snakes all rising to attention at once.

And then it was charging at him, the bones in front of him rustling and clacking from the movement. 

He woged, and swung.

His sword made contact with something hard, harder than flesh, but his blade bit through whatever hide the monster was covered with and sliced straight through to the other side. The gorgon screeched again - and this time he cried out with it, stumbling back from the noise, almost dropping his sword as he clutched at his head. Something solid as stone slammed into his side and threw him into the cave wall, the impact stealing his breath and making his woge recede. His knees threatened to give out beneath him but he locked them in place, forcing himself to remain standing and raising his blade again as he sucked in a ragged breath.

His entire side throbbed with every beat of his heart. His ears rang, and the world had become muted. But he still had his sword in his hand, and that was all he needed to retrieve its heart.

He pushed himself off of the wall. There was the faint sound of thrashing in front of him, and bones kept hitting his shins. He had injured it. Now he just had to finish it off.

It was somewhere on the ground in front of him. He approached it slowly, stabbing downwards ahead of him with his sword as he went.

His sword slid into flesh. There was another screech - though it sounded distant, now - and the scrape of claws through the metal covering his leg. Fire burned where those claws kissed his skin. He pulled his sword out and swung it toward that paw, and was rewarded by the tug of flesh parting under his blade. Another set of claws swiped at his legs. He swung his sword at that paw, too.

He needed to kill it without damaging the heart, if he hadn’t done so already. A few taps with his sword found the top of what seemed to be its head, and he followed that down to its neck.

It, too, parted under his blade.

The thrashing slowly stopped. He kicked the gorgon. It did not move, so he resheathed his sword and crouched down to skim his hand over it. There was an arm that ended abruptly, and a chest that-

It was a woman.

A human woman with armor-like skin.

It was hard under his touch, and when he smoothed his hand back toward the head the hide caught on his glove. He took it off, and traced his fingertips over it.

Scales.

She was covered in scales.

If he hadn’t had Hadrian’s blade he might not have been able to cut through them. He’d have to thank the young prince somehow. He located where her heart should be, and pulled his dagger from his belt.

It was a messy process made more difficult without the use of his magical blade, but with effort the dagger cut through the gorgon’s hide. Securing the heart without damaging it while not being able to see it was the hardest part, but soon enough he had it in his hand. It was bigger than a human heart. Heavier, too. 

He slid his dagger back in its sheath and tucked his glove into his belt before pushing himself to his feet. The trek back out of the cave was slow, his shins and side and head aching with every step, but the heart soaking his hand in wet warmth teased a smile onto his lips.

He’d done it.

When he had walked far enough away from the gorgon he pulled the blindfold off, letting it rest around his neck. It might not have done anything, or it might have saved his life. Either way, he was never getting rid of it.

The first rays of light trickling into the cave from the entrance ahead of him were a welcome change from the darkness he’d been in before, and he picked up his pace, striding to those overhanging roots with lighter steps. He pushed them out of the way, and squinted at the bright world around him.

And at Eric, who was aiming his armed bow right at him.

Chapter Text

He had been so close.

Eric had never even held a bow before the festival. He couldn’t even shoot it without magic helping him.

His woge threatened under his skin, and Sean drew in a slow, deep breath, and let it out just as slowly as Eric’s mouth moved. Sean’s brows furrowed, and he said, “What did you say? Speak up.”

Eric frowned. His voice was still muted, but Sean could make out the words, “I have been waiting for this moment."

“Have you.”

Eric scowled at him. His mouth moved.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I said, stop shouting!”

“I’m not shouting. You’re just whispering!”

Eric’s face pinched, and a moment passed before he said, “As I was saying, Mother has a guard on you at all times. But now you’re here, without your guard, and you’ve gone and fetched my heart for me. I suppose I should thank you.”

“So you’re going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you live after you defiled Nicholas. Do you know how long it’s going to take to get your stench off of him? Nevermind to undo whatever nonsense you put into his head.” He scoffed. “It’s a shame, really. I would have let you live if you had simply kept to the shadows as you were meant to.”

There was a shadow in the trees behind Eric.

Sean offered him a strained smile. “If I had done that you wouldn’t have the heart.”

Eric cocked his head to the side as he studied him. “Yvette hasn’t come out yet. Is she dead?”

“I assume so.” The shadow stepped out into the light.

It was Javier.

He must’ve stashed a zaubertrank or two in his saddlebags to account for his injury. The magic in those could give him enough of a boost to make him dangerous.

Eric nodded. “I still would not have needed you for it. Goodbye, brother. Knowing you has been the worst displeasure of my life-”

Javier tackled Eric to the ground with a cry. Sean bolted for his horse the moment that arrow was no longer aimed at him. He tore the reins from around the tree it was tied to and threw himself onto it, kicking it into a gallop as soon as he was seated.

Trees flew past him. Branches whipped at his face. He clutched at the heart, held it close to his chest so he wouldn’t drop it.

He directed his horse away from the stream. Whoever won that fight behind him would follow after him, and he had an entire day’s ride between him and Nick. He needed to put as much distance between him and them as possible while also making himself difficult to find. 

He was not going to lose.

The trees melted together in one long blur of green flashing by. The forest closed in on him, unfamiliar and threatening to steal his horse’s footing out from underneath it with every step. Two too many close calls made him slow it to a trot, but even that was slowed further as the daylight faded away and left him in darkness once more.

He made camp but did not light a fire. He did not sleep, could not sleep, alert for the flash of flames between the trees and the rustle of leaves exposing an incoming threat. The night animals were silent, and he sat in that silence with the heart in one hand and his sword in the other until the sun peeked through the trees enough to guide his horse’s way once more.

He went slower this time, picking his way through the forest with care. He was in new territory, and he could not afford to get lost. No one had tracked him down yet, but that didn’t mean they weren’t coming for him, or waiting for him at the festival grounds. He needed to slip in, find Nick, and give him the heart before anyone could stop him.

Sounds came back slowly. They came back in the thump of his horse’s hooves on the dirt, and the rustle of the wind through the leaves, and the clink of his armor against itself as he moved. His head ached, but so did the rest of him. He could stop and take stock of his injuries when the heart was in Nick’s hands.

The sun hung high in the sky when he reached the edge of the forest. He approached it slowly, every muscle tensing. But when he peered out there was no one waiting for him.

The festival grounds were just ahead. All he had to do was find Nick.

There was a gathering at the feasting tables. He urged his horse to step out of the treeline toward them, scanning the field for any sign of his rivals.

None. There were none.

He kicked his horse into a light trot, a small smile flitting across his lips.

It died immediately as Eric thundered out of the forest toward him. Sean whipped his horse back into a gallop, streaking across the field toward the feasting tables.

He would not lose to fucking Eric.

People leapt out of the way of his horse as he surged straight to the table the Grimms had sat at before, screaming and cursing at him as he went. They were unimportant, though, because Nick was sitting at that table, and looking up at him, and the distance between them was shrinking, and he had the heart in his hands and he was going to win. Sean yanked on the reins and his horse slid to a stop next to the table. The moment he was able to he leapt off of the horse and ran toward his omega-

A body slammed into his and took him to the ground. The heart went flying out of his hands.

It rolled to a stop, right at Javier’s feet.

“Why, my friends!” Javier crowed as he picked it up. “I cannot thank you enough.”

Sean should’ve slit his throat.

He surged up at the same time as Eric and they tangled together in a mess of limbs, dragging each other back down to the ground.

“Get off of me!” Eric bellowed.

Sean just shoved him away, but it was too late, Javier was approaching Nick with the heart in his hands-

Nick launched to his feet and bolted.

The festival grounds went silent.

Javier turned to Kelly, who was staring after Nick with wide eyes, and said, “This… was not part of the trial.”

“No,” she agreed. “But if you want to win, you’d better go catch him. The trial doesn’t end until the heart is in my son’s hands.”

Sean huffed out a soft puff of laughter. Shit. He clenched his fist, turned, and slammed it into Eric’s face.

Eric went down.

“What is the meaning of this?!” King Sylvain of Nimier barked, waving his hand at Sean as he scowled at Kelly. “Why is he here? You said he’d be dead!”

“What?!” Frederick snarled. “Did you plan my son’s death?!”

That was entirely unimportant. Sean lunged at Javier, who danced away from him with a grin and said, “Come on then! Let’s catch us an omega!”

He turned and took off, and Sean followed hot on his heels as Eric cried out behind them, “Hey!”

Nick had a headstart on them and was probably hiding somewhere, but Javier plowed on like he knew exactly where he was going. Which he seemed to, because he went straight for the stables where Nick was putting the bridle on his horse. Nick looked up as they approached, dropped the strap he was fumbling with, spun on his heel and continued running.

But now they had him within their sights. He was running toward the forest, but they were running faster, and Sean split off from Javier to circle around the other side of him to help herd him back toward the festival grounds. If he placed the heart into Nick’s hands without witnesses nobody would believe that he did it, so he could not let him run into the forest, even if it meant letting Javier draw closer to him.

Eric was streaking across the field toward them now, and Nick stopped in his tracks on his way back toward the festival grounds. He froze just long enough for Javier to reach him, and the alpha scruffed him before he could dart away again.

Sean saw red.

His woge ripped free, and then Javier was under him with wide eyes and Sean’s fist was reared back to crush his face in but his arm couldn’t move because someone was holding it back and when he glanced over his shoulder it was his omega scowling back at him.

“Stop trying to kill people!” Nick barked at him.

“Nicholas, be good now,” Eric said, and the heart was in his hands now, and he was approaching Nick with it and Sean pushed himself off of Javier and stepped between them but a leg swept his out from underneath him and then Nick was running away again, and Eric was chasing him, and Javier was shoving Sean’s face into the dirt as he got up to pursue them.

Fuck.

He launched to his feet, running after the three as they delved into the festival grounds. Nick slipped through the throng of attendees with ease, Eric shoved his way through, Javier tossed anyone in his way out of it, and that left a clear path for Sean to plow ahead after them. He caught up as they weaved around the tents, circumventing their path by cutting through a tent and ripping the heart out of Eric’s hands as he slammed into him on the other side. Eric tumbled to the ground, Javier tripped over him, and Sean continued his chase.

Nick glanced over his shoulder. Sean raised the heart, showing him that he was the one who had it, but his omega did not stop running - because Nick did not want to be his mate either.

It did not matter. Sean would place the heart in his hands, and Nick would be his.

Nick led him back to the feasting grounds, where Javier circled around and closed in on Nick once more between two of the tables. Sean blocked his other side, but Eric blocked Sean in. Nick hopped up on one of the tables just as Javier lunged for him and Eric lunged for Sean.

Sean threw the heart at Nick, shouting, “Nick, catch!”

Nick caught it perfectly.

The gathered crowd went silent. Kelly was silent. Marie was silent.

Even Eric had gone silent.

“Oh, shit,” Nick said, his voice small, his gaze locked on the heart in his hands.

Sean could not stop the grin that spread across his face. It felt feral. It felt wicked.

It felt like victory.

Chapter Text

Frederick was the first to speak, “I suppose that settles it then.”

“It settles nothing,” Kelly growled. “He’s-”

“Sean was the one to put the heart into Nicholas’ hands.”

Her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. “He is Wesen.”

Frederick’s face remained pleasantly impassive. “Half-Wesen. He still has Royal blood, and you were the one to allow him to compete in the first place, on your own accord and without the agreement of the participating kingdoms.”

“He was meant to be a target! Not a competitor!”

“Indeed. You would have had my son killed. That would have been most unfortunate. Thankfully, he has won.”

She snarled at him. “He has not-”

“He has,” Nick said. They both looked over at him, and he took a deep breath and said louder, “Sean has won. The other contestants could not complete the trial.”

“This conversation is absurd!” King Sylvain cried. “You ran! That was not part of the trial! Javier would have-”

“Sean had the heart in his hands first. If Eric hadn’t knocked him over, he would have been the winner.”

“Nicky,” Marie finally spoke up, “You cannot want a Wesen as a mate.”

Nick held up the heart. “I want an alpha that can prove themselves worthy. Sean did that.”

Sean could have kissed the words right out of his mouth. He would later, when they had a moment of privacy.

“So it is settled,” Frederick said. “Sean has won the tournament.”

King Sylvain rounded on him. “Sean isn’t a first born!”

“And yet you and everyone else agreed to allow him to participate.”

“He was supposed to die!” he bellowed, his voice ringing loud over the field.

Frederick’s face darkened. “Tread lightly. I will not soon forget the ambush you all had planned for him. Be grateful it did not succeed.”

The king went silent. 

Kelly spoke for him, “My son will only mate with an heir to the throne. Sean is not your heir.”

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Frederick said, “He is now.”

“Father!” Eric cried, but if he said anything else it was drowned out by the shouts of the Families and the pounding of Sean’s heart in his ears.

“A Wesen cannot sit on the throne!” one king bellowed.

Another barked, “Kill him and be done with this!”

Swords were drawn. Eric unsheathed his as well with a snarl torn ragged across his face, and Sean pulled his own blade from its sheath.

Nick jumped between them, his own blade drawn as he shouted, “Back off!”

Eric jerked his hand in a harsh wave and said, his voice all alpha, “Move!”

Nick didn’t even twitch. “Anyone who wants to fight with my mate will have to go through me first!”

Sean almost did kiss him then.

The advancing crowd stopped, their shouts hushed to low murmurs. Eric scoffed. “You can’t seriously want him as your mate.”

Nick shrugged. “He won. He is my mate. Those were the rules.”

“Eric,” Frederick called out softly, “stand down.”

Eric’s face twisted as he snarled again, but he slowly resheathed his sword and stepped away from Nick, retreating to Frederick’s side.

“Nick,” Kelly said, “you can’t mate with a Wesen.”

Nick clicked his tongue. “You’ll still get what you want.”

“But he’s Wesen. Grimms don’t-”

“He’s proven himself worthy of it.”

“He is not worthy of anything!”

Frederick spoke up, “And yet he is the one who brought back the heart and placed it into your son’s hands. He won.”

Kelly scowled at him. “He cannot win the tournament!”

“Do remember the oath you made at the start of the tournament. You promised your son to the heir that could win the trials. Now, Sean has won and will be claiming his mate - unless you do not intend to honor your oath?” 

“My oath did not extend to him,” she spat, cutting her hand through the air at Sean.

Frederick offered her a smile, pleasant and dangerous. “As Nicholas said, you will still get what you want. Or was this tournament a ruse for something else?”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Kelly was silent, her face pinched. A long moment passed.

And then she said, her voice rough, “The tournament is over. Sean is the winner.”

The gathered crowd exploded into an uproar, though whether it was cheers or jeers was indeterminable. The boom of it was deafening, and Sean swayed back from the force of it - or maybe it was from the way his head had gone light as if it meant to lift right off of his shoulders.

His father had defended him. His father had argued in his favor, and had swayed the Grimm matriarch into announcing him as the winner. His father had made him his heir. Never in any of his dreams as a small child had he ever allowed himself to imagine his father doing so.

But he had.

And Nick had defended him too, and was standing close enough to Sean to wrap his arms around and press a kiss to that wonderful mouth of his. He resisted the urge to do so because that was inappropriate behavior to exhibit in public, even if he was celebrating his new mate and throne.

His throne.

He was to be king.

King.

Him.

Finally.

He had to lock his knees to keep them from folding underneath him as a wave of bone-deep exhaustion crashed over him. Every part of him ached. His sword almost slipped from his hand, the thin blade suddenly weighing more than two men combined. The armor strapped onto his frame was like he was carrying a bear. His vision was darkening, the edges pulling inwards to frame his omega turning around, his wide blue eyes fixed only on him, his mouth moving as he said faintly, “Sean? Sean!”

The world went dark.

Chapter Text

Someone was singing softly, their voice a gentle tenor. The words were indistinct, but they sent ripples across the world like skipping stones on the surface of a lake. They slowly took shape, curling about his ears, teasing at the sensitive flesh, taunting and elusive with meaning he could not decipher.

Sean’s eyes slid open.

A slanted canopy of red fabric greeted him, high above his head. Beside him sat Nick, singing quietly in an unfamiliar language as he carved a small block of wood. His song was slow, sweet. It did not seem like something that should come from a Grimm’s mouth.

Sean let his gaze drift. They were in his father’s tent again, alone. He was laying on a proper bedroll in the spot he had slept in before. His armor had been removed, as had his weapons, and his clothes had been changed. A dull ache thrummed throughout his body, the kind that sat deep in the muscles after hard labor. His side throbbed steadily and his head pounded with every breath, but his shins did not burn where the gorgon had sliced him open.

Sean slowly pushed himself up with a quiet grunt. Nick stopped singing as he did so, glancing over at him with a small frown. “Are you still in pain? The healer left me something to give you that’s supposed to help.”

“Which healer?” If they were one of Eric’s then it was probably poison.

Nick shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t know anyone here.”

True. “Alright. Is that it?”

He waved at a vial of liquid sitting on the ground next to Nick, who nodded and passed it to Sean. The liquid was a metallic silver, completely opaque and running right off of the sides of the vial when Sean tilted it from side to side. It had no smell. A small sip revealed the taste of rotting vegetation and blood, which was par for the course for a zaubertrank. 

“Do you always do this with everything you drink?” Nick asked. “You did it at the feast with your wine, too.”

Sean lifted a brow. “I wasn’t aware you were watching me.”

Nick scoffed, turning back to his carving as a slight tinge of pink blossomed in his cheeks.

The liquid burned as it went down, but it spread warmth throughout his body and eased the throbbing and pounding and aching down to a negligible pain he could ignore. He set the vial off to the side and turned his attention back to his omega, who was busy ignoring him - or at least pretending to, as he apparently had been during the feast.

“What language were you singing in?” Sean asked. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Garsund.”

“Is that what Grimms speak?” There were no stories of Grimms speaking another language. Then again, there were no stories of Grimms speaking at all.

Nick nodded, and pushed his wood shavings together into a small pile.

Sean hummed. “You speak Riev well. You don’t have an accent.”

Nick just nodded again and kept silent.

“Will you teach it to me?”

That made Nick glance over at him, his brows furrowed. “Why?”

“So I can speak it with you.”

“But we can already talk just fine.”

“True,” Sean lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret, “but if you teach me Garsund, then we can talk in front of Eric and he won’t know we are insulting him.”

Nick snorted, and quickly coughed to cover what was obviously a laugh, turning away from him and covering his grin with his hand. So Sean continued, keeping his voice hushed, “What would you call him in Garsund?”

Nick shook his head, but then glanced around as if someone was in the tent with them and whispered back with laughter clear in his voice, “Kafka.”

Sean lifted his brows and widened his eyes, sucking in a soft breath. “Nicholas. I can’t believe you just said that.”

Nick did laugh then, bright and sweet and perfectly his. “What?! You don’t even know what I said!”

He shook his head and tsked a few times. “I know enough. You little devil.”

Nick bared his teeth in a grin that was sharp enough to cut glass and leaned in close to say, his voice still rough with humor, “You know what I’d call you?”

That was not where the conversation was supposed to go. Sean pretended to think about it, letting his gaze wander around the room as he did so. Finally he turned back to Nick and nodded. “Your mate.”

Nick bit his lip to muffle another laugh as he shook his head. It took him a moment to collect himself, but when he did he said, “Savil.”

He had probably just insulted him, but he was close enough to kiss, and Sean would rather taste his laughter than punish him for it. He leaned just a bit closer, not enough to close the distance but enough for Nick to do it if he wanted to and murmured, “Oh? And what does that mean?”

“See,” Nick said, and he did lean closer - but still not enough for them to be kissing, “if I taught you Garsund, then I couldn’t talk in front of you without you knowing that I’m insulting you.”

And then Nick pulled back, his grin wide enough to crack his face in two as he turned back to his carving while humming an upbeat little tune.

Sean stared at him.

This was his mate.

His defiant, irreverent, audacious mate.

Next time he’d kiss him.

Sean cleared his throat and sat back. “What were you singing before?”

He shrugged and held up his carving to inspect it. “A lullaby.”

“To help me sleep?” Warmth curled sweet around his heart. It did not recede despite his attempts to stamp it out. The last time anyone had sung him a lullaby had been his mother when he had taken ill as a very young child. 

Nick just scowled at him, all traces of his grin gone. But the flush of pink was back in his cheeks, faint as it was. Sean offered him a slight smile in return, reaching for him to pull him close.

Nick ducked out of reach with a huff. “Looks like you’re feeling better now.”

Sean’s smile faded. “Come here.”

“No.” He turned back to his carving again. “If you’re feeling better you should go find your father.”

“I’d rather stay here with you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

The curt words suffocated the warmth in his chest. Sean pursed his lips. “What’s wrong? Are you not happy that I’m the one who won?”

Nick turned away from his carving to scowl at him. “I didn’t want anyone to win.”

“But if you’d had a choice…” he trailed off, quirking a brow.

“I suppose,” Nick grumbled, as if the words were distasteful, “I would have chosen you.” 

Sean’s lips twitched up into another small smile. “You will be happy. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can. I just did.”

“You can’t, because I will never be happy with you.”

His chest hollowed out as his smile cracked. But it didn’t matter how much Nick protested, because he had declared himself as Sean’s mate in front of all of the kingdoms’ leaders, and he would eventually accept his place as such.

Frederick stepped into the tent and graced them with the largest smile Sean had ever seen on his face. “My two lovebirds. We will have you back in your nest soon. I’m sure you two are eager to start your own little flock.”

Nick flinched and ducked his head.

Sean frowned. “Your Majesty-”

“Call me father. We are all family here.”

His eyes widened. Frederick had never allowed him to call him father before. “...Father. Is the festival over?”

“Yes. Everyone is eager to return to their kingdoms. We have all been away too long.” He turned his smile on Nick. “It was worth it, though. Are you comfortable? Do you need a sharper knife?”

Nick shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You are the mate of a prince. Do not hesitate to ask for what you need.” 

He nodded, but did not reply. 

Frederick hummed. “You need not worry. You will not be alone. Your family and I have spoken, and we have agreed that your aunt shall accompany us to live in the castle with you.”

Nick perked up. “Really?!”

Frederick’s smile widened. “Yes. It will be a delight to have you both within our walls.”

“Thank you…”

“It is my pleasure. Now, Sean,” he turned to Sean, his smile waning, “You, of course, have new duties to attend beyond your new mate. We will discuss this at length later. Conduct yourself properly from now on, however. Do not give me a reason to rescind my decision.”

Sean offered him a thin smile back. “If you rescind your decision then you will displease Nick’s family.”

“I have already discussed this with them. Should you misstep, Eric will take your crown and your mate, as he was meant to.”

“I don’t want to mate with him!” Nick cried.

Frederick lifted a brow. “It is not for you to decide. You had your fun, interfering with the tournament as you did. But I will not allow Sean to bring my kingdom to ruin. One wrong move, and Eric reclaims his place as crown prince and takes you as his mate. Your aunt is coming to ensure this happens.”

Nick deflated with a soft, “Oh…”

“The other Royal Families won’t be pleased if Eric takes my place,” Sean said. “They’ll start to think it was your plan all along to have me infiltrate the tournament and give my win to Eric should he not succeed.”

Frederick’s smile dropped. “Were that the case you would not have won. You would have hindered Javier instead, and Eric would have won in your place.”

“That would have made it too obvious that I was helping him.”

“Nobody will believe that I willingly planned to declare you as my heir in front of all of the Royal Families.”

“They will if you immediately replace me with Eric, because it will give them a chance to contest your participation in the tournament.”

Frederick stared him down. Sean stared back, his chin held high. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you will perish on the long journey home, and Eric will, naturally, regain his place as my successor.”

“I won’t let you do that,” Nick snarled. The blade in his hand glinted in the candlelight. “Anyone who tries to kill Sean will die. Anyone.”

Frederick tilted his head back, his gaze intent as he regarded him. “You misunderstood me. I will not do anything. There are many dangers on the trail. I spoke only of them.”

“I won’t let them kill him either.”

His body was tense as if he might actually lunge at Frederick at any moment. Sean kept his voice low, smooth, calm, “It seems it would be for the best, Father, that this deal is renegotiated. After all, anything I do could be considered a misstep if examined critically enough, and we must present a united front before the other Families who will surely be watching our every move for a plot such as this.”

Frederick’s gaze didn’t shift from Nick as he answered Sean, “You should be grateful for this deal, boy. It was the only way to keep the Grimm matriarchs from killing you while you slept.”

Sean bowed his head. So Frederick had been negotiating for his life. The deal might be to Eric’s benefit, but the king never would have defended Sean like that before the festival.

“It was not the only deal I had to make to keep the peace because of you,” Frederick continued. “The Families required much to subdue their ire. But that is a concern for another time. For now, I’m sure you two would like to celebrate. I’ll leave you to it.”

With that Frederick slipped out of the tent, and Nick let out a strangled noise and turned to Sean, his face a mask of desperation. “You can’t let that happen!”

“I won’t,” Sean promised. He would die before he lost his crown to Eric.

One misstep. That’s all it would take. And Marie Kessler was going to be watching his every move as well. She had every reason to separate him from his mate-

His mate.

Nick didn’t accept him as his mate, and Marie was going to be watching them. Not just Marie - Frederick, and Eric, and Queen Cassandra - everyone in the kingdom might as well be watching them. If any of them found out that Nick didn’t accept him as his mate then they would question his outbursts during the festival. There was no reason for Nick to support an alpha that wasn’t his mate - unless that alpha had promised him freedom in return for his crown. Anyone with any sense would figure out that they had plotted together to secure Sean’s success over the other heirs.

One misstep. And then Eric had everything that belonged to Sean.

“Nick,” Sean said, “listen closely. You don’t need to accept me as your mate. But if anyone finds out that you don’t, then I will lose my crown and you will be forced to mate with Eric.”

Nick recoiled. “But you just said-”

“I will do everything I can to prevent that. But you have to play your part, too. You have to be my mate, just as everyone expects you to be.”

A frown stole across Nick’s face. “You promised you wouldn’t make me-”

“I’m not telling you to behave like you should.” That was a conversation for another time. “I’m saying you need to help me convince everyone that we are mates.”

“So…”

“So when I reach for you, don’t pull away.”

Nick’s face twisted into a grimace. “You actually think they’d do that though?”

“Do you want to risk it?”

He went silent.

Sean offered him a slight smile. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll be exploring Kronenburg like you wanted soon enough.”

Nick eyed him. “Promise?”

“On my mother’s grave. As I said, you will be happy.”

The tension slowly seeped from his frame, and he returned Sean’s smile with a tentative one of his own. “Okay.”

Sean’s smile widened slightly. “Where will you go first?”

“I… don’t know?”

“You don’t have anywhere specific you’d like to go?”

“Not really? I… don’t actually know what there is to see in Kronenburg.”

That was easy to fix. “I’ll draw you a map of all the best places in the kingdom, then, as thanks for the map you drew me.”

Nick ducked his head as he fiddled with his carving, the sweet upward curve of his lips caught between his teeth. After a moment he murmured, soft, “Did you end up needing the blindfold?”

“It saved my life. You saved my life. I’m in your debt.” The blindfold probably didn’t do anything. The cave had been pitch black inside. He wouldn’t have been able to see the gorgon anyway.

But Nick’s smile widened, and he nodded and said just as soft as before, “What… what are you going to do to pay me back for that?”

Sean’s brows rose. “What would you like me to do?”

Nick wouldn’t look at him, his gaze fixed on the piece of wood in his hand. “I… I’ll think about it.”

That was promising. “Alright. Where is the blindfold? I’d like it back.”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

That got Nick to look at him. “It’s a strip of cloth.”

“It’s a gift from my mate that saved my life and helped me win the tournament.”

“I’m not-” Nick cut off, his brows pinched. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he quietly pushed himself to his feet, leaving his knife and carving behind as he crossed the tent to the trunk Frederick had pulled his shirt from. Several bags were piled around it now and Nick dug through one of them before returning with the strip of black cloth in his hand. He sat back in his spot and handed it to Sean with a muttered, “Here.”

“Thank you.” Sean tied it around his wrist as Nick picked his knife and block of wood back up and started carving again. He nodded at the wood in Nick’s hand. “You like to carve?”

“Yes.”

That also didn’t seem like a very Grimm thing to do. But maybe it was. Maybe Grimms did do plenty of normal activities like wood carving, singing, drawing, and dancing. “What are you making?”

Nick held it up for him to peer at. “A donkey.”

It did look somewhat like a donkey. “It looks good.”

Nick hummed, cocking his head to the side as his gaze flicked between the half-carved figurine and Sean’s face. “It kind of looks like you.”

Sean sucked in a short breath. There was that bite of his again. It was as if he wanted to be punished. Nick’s grin was all teeth, sharp in the way it split his face in two. It was a good look on him. Good enough to taste. Sean nodded slowly. “I wasn’t aware you found jackasses attractive.”

Nick snorted. “I don’t find you attractive.”

“No? I believe you were the one who said I had a handsome face and a nice ass.”

He scoffed, a dusting of pink highlighting his cheekbones. “That wasn’t- I didn’t mean it like that!”

“How did you mean it? Because you seemed to like them well enough the two times we laid together.”

“I-” Nick cut off with a grimace. “I just meant… that…”

He looked even better speechless. Sean waved him on when he didn’t continue. “Yes?”

Nick just frowned at him.

Sean lifted a brow. “So, do I still look like a jackass, then?”

He huffed. “More than ever.”

Sean frowned back at him, and was just opening his mouth when someone popped their head into the tent and said, “You’re awake!”

It was Javier. He stepped in and raised the bottle in his hand. “I have been waiting for you! And Nicholas is here! We shall celebrate the way we were meant to! Where are your goblets?”

“Not here.” Sean pushed himself to his feet, his body protesting the movement. He breathed through it and held his hand out to Nick, who hesitated before accepting it and allowing him to pull him up. With his omega no longer sitting on the ground like a peasant he strode as steadily as he could manage to the table where a bell had been placed. He rang it. A servant poked their head in through the tent flaps, and Sean said, “Bring us three goblets and a tray of food.”

The servant nodded and departed. Javier grinned and sat in one of the chairs at the table, holding the bottle out to him. “This is the wine I was telling you of. You will enjoy it. We call it Lulion, after the way it burns through you.”

“Thank you for bringing it.” Sean nodded and pulled out a chair for Nick, who again hesitated before sitting in it. They’d have to work on that. Sean settled in his place beside him across from Javier and waved at the bottle the alpha had set on the table. “Why did you bring it?”

“To celebrate, like I said! Nobody wants to celebrate.” His face darkened. “It is understandable. Rotsengard is mourning the loss of their crown princess. Yvette did not come back, and none of the scouts could find her.”

He could still hear that slurping noise as the gorgon fed. “No. We are lucky we did.”

“Luck?” He tilted his head and eyed Sean. “I suppose. I would not have called you luck before. But maybe you were the luck we needed.”

Sean’s brows rose. “Don’t let your father hear that.”

“Pah! My father is old and cannot hear straight. He was not the one sent to fight a gorgon after taking a dagger to the chest. We both know magic can only do so much. I would not be here either if you had not killed it first.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, aiming a wistful smile at Nick. “It is a shame you ran. That would have been lucky indeed.”

Nick returned his smile with a thin one of his own. “Grimms don’t believe in luck.”

“No? What do you believe in?”

“Results.”

Sean hummed as Javier nodded. At least that was something they could agree on. The servant returned with the goblets and a tray of cheese, and Javier crowed out a cheer and popped open the bottle, pouring out a too-generous serving in each of their cups. When he was done Javier lifted his cup and gave a toast, “To an unlikely winner.”

Sean lifted his own cup. “To new friends.”

“Ah!” Javier’s grin was wide. “To new friends!”

Sean frowned at Nick as he immediately sipped at the wine without testing it for poison, which was another thing they would have to work on. He carefully examined the wine he was given. It did not seem poisoned, and it was unlikely that Javier would attempt to kill the Grimm heir while his family was close by, so he took a larger sip. It went down burning as if it were liquid flame, just as Javier had said it would. He would have to watch how much he drank.

“You will both come to Nimier. We will have a rematch - and Nicholas,” Javier waved his cup at Nick, “you will best us both.”

Nick huffed out a laugh behind his wine. “You want to fight me?”

“Nothing would delight me more.”

“You’ll lose.”

“I expect to. But a good fight is a good fight. You will give me one, no?”

Nick cast a glance at Sean. “I…”

Sean’s lips twitched up. So Nick could be taught. He said to Javier, “We will make the proper arrangements. It will take time, of course. You understand.”

“I do! You have much to do when you return.” Javier winked at them. “Maybe I will come visit you instead!”

“You are always welcome to.”

“Good man! Tell me, what of the gorgon? What was it like, fighting a monster like that?” He leaned in and said to Nick, “This man of yours comes out of the cave, his armor shorn below his knees and dented at his side, looking like he had just shoved his hand straight into the monster’s chest and ripped the heart out still beating! And his brother is there-”

Javier’s face twisted, and he turned to Sean, his voice low, “Your brother would have killed you.”

“If not for you, yes.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse in Vanyr, the language from Nimier, before nodding and saying, “It is good he did not win.”

“I agree.”

Javier studied Sean intently for a long moment before saying, his voice low, “But you have won more than a mate, have you not?”

Sean raised his cup in a silent toast.

“There are those who find your success… alarming.”

“Do you?”

Javier tilted his head, and raised his cup as well. “I am here to celebrate, no? But where are the rest? You are Wesen. They are scared. I am not.”

Sean offered him a slight smile. “You didn’t strike me as a revolutionary.”

“I am not that, either. I am simply a man interested in, as Nicholas put it, results. You are good at getting results in a way unlike the rest. Tell me, was it your plan all along to become the crown prince of Kronenburg?”

Sean’s smile widened. “I would never plot to steal the throne from my brother.”

Javier boomed out a laugh. “Of course! And I would not accuse you of such treason. It must have been great luck indeed that brought you to where you are now.”

“Indeed.”

He grabbed the bottle of wine and waved it at Nick’s cup. “More wine?”

Nick smiled and offered his cup to be refilled, saying, “Thank you. It’s delicious.”

“I am delighted to hear it! I will send you casks of it as a proper gift.” He paused. “Unless you’d prefer something else? I can have our smiths craft you a blade so fine you will want none else.”

Nick perked up. “You’d do that?”

“Consider it done!” 

“Thank you…”

Javier grinned at him and finished filling their cups. When he was done he tilted the bottle with a hum. “We shall need another, I think.”

It was not wise to loosen his tongue with alcohol, but Javier had come for more than just a celebration. An alliance was on the table between them as long as the conversation continued to flow smoothly. And Nick was doing beautifully - he was sipping his wine quietly, responding only when spoken to, and had been pleasant enough to Javier the entire time. He might be rough around the edges, but he would learn his place in the court quickly.

The servant was summoned again and more wine brought, and Javier turned to Nick and began to regale him with stories of Nimier. Sean sat back and sipped at his wine, his muscles as loose as his smile with his omega laughing next to him as Javier waved his arms about in grand gestures and screwed up his face in exaggerated expressions completely unbecoming of a crown prince. It might have been concerning except for the fact that Nick kept looking over at him every so often, sharing the curve of his grin with Sean behind his cup as if it were a secret between the two of them.

The cheese slowly disappeared between them, and the second bottle quickly emptied. The servant was called in to replace the bottle with another, and then another.

At some point Frederick stepped in, and Javier heaved himself out of his chair and bowed to him before making his exit. Frederick eyed Sean with a raised brow and asked, “I assume that went well?”

“Of course,” Sean said. Nick hummed and nodded beside him.

Frederick’s gaze swept over Nick before returning to Sean. “Get him to bed. We leave tomorrow as the sun rises, and you are to ready the caravan.”

“We can’t leave yet. There’s supposed to be a… a cellar- celellar…” Nick’s slurred words trailed off, his face scrunching up.

“A celebration? Nobody wishes to celebrate a half-breed bastard’s coup of the tournament. Except, apparently, Javier.”

“He’s not a half-breed,” Nick laughed, “he’s a donkey!”

Frederick’s brows shot up. Sean blew out a rough breath and pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he grabbed Nick by the arms and guided him up as well with a muttered, “Time for bed.”

Nick was still laughing as Sean helped him down onto the bedroll he’d been lying on earlier. He was just letting go when Nick tangled his hand in his shirt and dragged him down with him, leaving Sean fumbling to brace himself so as not to crush him with his weight. Frederick muttered something nearby, but Nick was kissing him now and that was much more important than anything his father had to say so he ignored the old man and focused on kissing the laughter off of Nick’s lips. It tasted mischievous, light and free and intoxicating. If he wasn’t careful he could get drunk off of that.

Which was absurd. He was already drunk.

Nick broke away too soon, but Sean allowed it because he was pressing sloppy kisses along his jawline to his throat now, and his hands were smoothing down his chest to his stomach and heat was coiling through him and Sean lifted a hand to reciprocate and almost fell face-first onto Nick. He had drunk way too much to do this. They both had.

So Sean murmured, “I thought you didn’t like me.”

It took Nick a moment to respond, but when he did he mouthed the words hot against the sensitive skin of his throat, “I don’t like you or your dumb donkey face.”

“My donkey face?”

Nick pressed another sloppy kiss to his throat in answer.

“But you like my donkey throat?”

He nipped at Sean’s throat, soothing the sting with the sweep of his tongue. Sean let out a soft groan and shifted his weight so he could drop onto his side next to Nick instead of laying on top of him. He curled around his omega, tucking him in close and holding him firm as he attempted to turn onto his side to face Sean again.

“Go to sleep,” Sean whispered into his hair. “You can kiss me in the morning.”

Nick made a disgruntled noise and stopped struggling, but flopped his hand about until he found Sean’s wrist to curl his fingers into the strip of cloth tied to it. He let out a heavy sigh and relaxed, mumbling, “G’night Donkey.”

He better not start calling him that.

Chapter Text

Sean had never been so warm.

That wasn’t true. He had been burned by flames more than once, and had trained his bladework in the sun too long many times. But the warmth he felt now did not sear his flesh. Instead it sank deep into his muscles, melting his tendons and inspiring lethargy. It was pleasant. 

It was unusual.

The blanket draped over him was a heavy weight. Too heavy for a blanket. He cracked one eye open. The world was dark, cast into deep shadow by the flicker of a single candle sitting on the table nearby.

The table.

He was in his father’s tent again.

He was in his father’s tent, lying in the corner he had been in before with a blanket that was not a blanket but a person draped over him.

They smelled like Nick.

That’s right. Javier had brought wine. Nick had drunk with them. He had gotten drunk. They both had.

Nick was using him as his personal pillow. His head was on his chest, his fingers curled into his shirt as if to hold him in place with his leg thrown over Sean’s for good measure. His breathing was steady, his body loose-limbed and lax, all of the fight in him defeated by sleep. If ever he could be called a proper omega it was now, lying pliant and vulnerable in the throes of dreams in his mate’s arms.

Sean had never been more comfortable in his life.

He had never let any of his bed partners stay after they had concluded their business, much less spend the night. Many would have taken the opportunity to slit his throat while he slept. Sean had always slept alone, waking at the slightest rustle lest he be ambushed. Waking with his omega in his arms almost made his eyes slip closed again as that warmth swelled in his chest. 

It was dangerous.

It was to be his life from now on. He had to become immune to whatever that warmth was. While he would be sharing his bed with his mate, he could not afford to become comfortable. Comfort bred complacency, bringing ruin to kings and kingdoms alike.

And now that he was awake, he needed to begin his duties for the day. So Sean carefully shifted under Nick, prying at the hand clasped in his shirt to unhook his fingers. Nick stirred with a low note and tightened his grip on him. Sean went still, and Nick’s breathing slowly evened out again.

Waking Nick was not ideal. He had no reason to be awake yet, and was likely still sleeping off the wine. Sean had managed to escape a hangover - his tolerance for alcohol exceeded that of a human’s. But as much as Nick might need his sleep, Sean could not shirk his new duties. If he did not perform adequately enough under Frederick’s scrutiny, then Nick would be sleeping with Eric instead.

And he would die before he let that happen.

A second attempt to remove Nick’s grasp on his shirt resulted in a soft whine that almost had Sean curling around him instead. Doing so would have been disastrous for both of them though, so he continued to gently work his way out from under Nick.

Nick stretched long and languid against him as he did so, mumbling something in an unfamiliar language that was likely Garsund. Sean responded by pressing a kiss into his hair and murmuring, “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm?” Nick crushed his nose against his neck and scented him, and then let out the sweetest rumble and went lax again. Sean couldn’t stop the answering rumble that rose in his own chest, that dangerous warmth coiling like a noose about his heart.

It would be his death.

Especially if he didn’t rise to perform his duties. So Sean smothered his rumbling into silence and gently pushed Nick off of him. Nick grumbled under his breath and turned onto his other side, heaving a sigh before going still once more.

A chill shivered through him at the loss of his heated blanket, but he forced himself up and away from the outline of Nick’s frame lying within reach. There would be plenty of opportunities to hold him later now that Sean had won the tournament.

A quick search of the tent with the candle in hand revealed his weapons stashed away beside Nick’s pile of bags. Arming himself took only a moment, and then he was striding out of the tent. 

Marie Kessler was standing outside.

“Good morning,” Sean said.

She did not reply. Her face had been cut from stone, blank and impenetrable, and her gaze was heavier than a blacksmith’s anvil.

Sean nodded slowly. “Nick is still sleeping.”

“I am here for you.”

His brows rose. “Oh? What do you need from me?”

“I will never need anything from you,” the words were chewed up and spat out as if they were foul, rotten on her tongue. “I am here to observe.”

“Ah.” So it had already begun. “I would be delighted to have you with me.”

She did not reply again, and he took that as his cue to continue on his way. She followed, the crunch of her boots on the dirt near-silent, noticeable only in the way it echoed his own. The world around him was lit by torchlight, the crisp air stealing the remaining heat from him. The servants were already bustling about, as were the knights, and the section of the field Kronenburg had claimed for its own had been cleared of all of the tents they had been using. The only ones remaining were the larger ones reserved for the Royal family.

With the field cleared of the servants’ and knights’ tents the next encampment over was visible - it displayed the colors of Nimier, the golden sun. There was an empty stretch of field between Kronenburg’s camp and Nimier’s camp where Rotsengard’s camp used to be. There was no sign of their caravan in the distance, however, so they must have left the day before.

Which made sense. They were in mourning.

But the Tyranskies had one other heir - not an alpha, but an omega son who, while he couldn’t take the throne himself, could be mated with another heir. And Eric was still yet unmated, and Rotsengard had long been Kronenburg’s ally. If Frederick could be convinced that merging the two Families was in his best interest, then Sean would be free of Eric.

Eric, who was walking toward him with a grin on his face. He bowed his head to Marie and asked her, “It is a good day, is it not?”

She did not reply.

Sean spoke for her, “You are in good spirits.”

“I am about to gain everything that is rightfully mine. Of course I am in good spirits.” Eric sighed, his grin widening as he said to Marie, “Do not worry. This mess will be cleaned up soon.”

“See that it is,” she said, soft and deadly.

Sean turned away from them both, continuing on his way through the field. Eric and Marie followed him, with Eric chatting to Marie and Marie not responding even once. They hovered behind him as he went about his duties overseeing the assembly of the caravan, their gazes heavy on his back.

A commotion by one of the wagons drew his attention, and he quickly strode over to it. Nick was there, holding one of his bags in his arms away from a servant who kept attempting to steal it from him, his voice growing louder as he said, “I can do it!”

Court omegas did not perform servant work, especially the mate of the crown prince himself. Sean opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Eric cried, “Nicholas! Put that bag down at once!”

Nick stopped struggling with the servant, who bowed deeply to Eric with a mumbled, “Your Highness. I apologize. He picked it up when I wasn’t looking.”

“I’m not helpless! I can put my own bags in the wagon!” Nick adjusted the bag in his arms, a tight frown on his face. “Why is that a problem?”

Eric scoffed. “It is improper-”

“Improper?” Nick’s face twisted into a scowl. “How is that improper?”

“You are the prized omega mate of a prince. Your hands are meant for finer things.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. He put his bag down on the ground but stayed bent over, rubbing his hands in the dirt before standing back up and presenting them to Eric with a chirped, “Oops. Got some dirt on my delicate, fragile omega hands. Guess I’ll just die.”

Marie snorted.

Eric’s eyes had gone wide, and his mouth was hanging open slightly as if he’d just seen the gorgon. It was a good look on him. Sean smoothed his hand over the upward curve of his lips and said to Nick, “Why don’t you go get your horse ready instead? We’re going to leave soon.”

Nick frowned at him. “But-”

“Would you prefer one of the servants did it?”

He shook his head.

Sean waved him away. “Then go on.”

Nick pursed his lips, but picked up the bag and gave it to the servant, who bowed and trotted off with it. Marie stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder, murmuring something to him under her breath that made him sigh and nod. They walked away, and Sean let out a sigh of his own and scrubbed his hand over his face.

Nick was not going to make this trip easy on him.

“He suits you,” Eric said. “A boorish omega for a boarish alpha.”

Sean smiled thinly at him. “One you never would have been able to handle. You’re too delicate for him. He’d break you.”

“You’re confusing delicate with cultured,” he bit back, “which is something you are not. Though I suppose that’s to be expected. A biest like you is meant to wallow in mud, not to live in high society.”

“Again with the beast jokes. Do you have nothing else in your repertoire?”

Eric sneered at him. “Forgive me. They do not grow stale, unlike your presence.”

Sean swept his arm out to indicate the rest of the festival grounds. “You are welcome to vacate it.”

“You think me foolish? You will fail, and I will catch you, and then I will have all that belongs to me.” 

“Dreams are meant for sleeping and children, Eric.” Sean tilted his head and regarded his brother. “As you are not sleeping, I suppose that makes you infantile.”

Eric snarled at him, but Frederick strode up to them and pulled them both away to walk them through the path they were to take back to Kronenburg. Sean had not been part of that conversation on the way to the festival, much less been allowed to participate in it, and he listened attentively and memorized the map presented to him.

“We must remain alert,” Frederick said. “Opportunistic vultures will be in waiting for caravans with weak spots. You will not allow them to find any. We must deliver Nicholas and Marie to the castle safely. Understood?”

Sean and Eric nodded, as did the head of the king’s guard, Damian.

“Good. One more thing - I suspect the Grimm matriarchs are planning something. They did not orchestrate this tournament for the simple purpose of finding their heir a mate. Keep your eyes on Marie and Nicholas, and report back to me with any findings. Sean, you are closest to Nicholas at this time. I expect you to keep me apprised of any strange goings-on. This is not the time for one of your ploys. If they are intending harm to Kronenburg, we must act swiftly and discreetly to subdue them and keep the other Families from learning of their insurrection.”

“Yes Father,” Sean murmured, and Eric shot him a glance that could have lit him on fire had he been a Hexenbiest.

“Good. Dawn approaches. Go.” He dismissed them with a curt wave, and Sean left to inspect the caravan again, leaving Eric who stayed behind. 

Damian pulled him aside before he could go far, his voice low as he said, “I look forward to riding alongside you, Your Highness.”

Sean tilted his head back as he swept his gaze over the knight before him. Damian had never deigned to address him with the appropriate title before. He was a man of pride, of honor, who followed his liege with unwavering loyalty.

He was also a Lowen.

“And I you,” Sean replied.

Damian bowed low before turning away and leaving. Sean’s gaze lingered on him for a moment - perhaps he would have more support in his reign as king than he’d thought. He could use a knight like Damian. He hummed under his breath to himself and continued on his way, walking the line of the caravan and paying closer attention to the way the Wesen servants responded to him as he made his final checks.

Everything was in order, ready for the long trip home. All that was left was to inspect his own horse. He found it tied to the carriage meant for the Royal consort to ride in next to Nick’s, where Nick was by himself petting Sean’s horse and talking to it softly under his breath. Sean’s horse was a bitter stallion, a biter, too, and it calmed only for him - but Nick had it mouthing at his hand as he rubbed its nose.

Sean stopped a short distance away to watch. Maybe Nick felt a sort of kinship with the devil horse, and that’s why the two were getting along.

He was spotted quickly, and Nick asked him, “What’s your horse’s name?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

Nick frowned at him. “You didn’t name your horse?”

“No.” It hadn’t been important. “Would you like to?”

“That’s- I couldn’t-” Nick shook his head, his eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

Sean nodded, stepping close to run his hand over his horse’s flank. “I’d appreciate it.”

“I… I’d have to think of one.”

“Alright.” He patted his horse. “I think he’d like that, too.”

“I think he’s a horse.” Nick rolled his eyes, but then he eyed Sean in a slow drag down from head-to-toe.

Sean lifted a brow. “See something you like?”

Nick snorted and turned to his own horse, rustling about in its saddlebags and pulling something out to present to Sean.

It was the carving of the donkey.

“Here,” Nick said with the cheekiest grin. “I finished it while I was waiting. You can have it.”

“...Thanks.” The wood was smooth in his hand, the shape distinct for a carving finished so quickly. It was another insult, but it made his lips quirk up. The figurine would be a reminder of what Nick used to be like when he finally learned to bite his tongue. “Where is your aunt?”

“She’s readying her own horse.”

Sean nodded. “I see. And are you ready to leave, too, then?”

Nick’s lips turned down, and he muttered, “No. But yes.”

His face was better suited for that cute grin he had just displayed. “The world awaits you.”

“But I’m leaving my home behind.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He popped one shoulder up in a shrug. “Yes? But thinking about leaving and actually doing it are two different things.”

Sean sighed. He was going to regret this. “I can’t promise anything, but maybe it can be arranged that you can come back to visit.”

He perked up, the slight hint of a smile curling faint around the corners of his mouth. “You would do that for me? Even though you’ve already gotten what you wanted?”

Sean returned his smile with a small one of his own, his thumb brushing over the figurine’s snout. “That and more.”

Nick ducked his head, his smile blossoming into a full stretch of lips. A call went out down the line of the caravan that it was time to leave, and Sean asked again, “Are you ready?”

Nick nodded, his voice soft and sweet as he said, “I am now.”