birds of a feather

by katraa

Summary:

“Kaveh.”

“And he—huh? Yes?”

“You do realize that was Alhaitham, right?”

A long pause. “Who?”

Tighnari’s palm meets his face. “Sorry, of course you of all people wouldn’t care to know about these things.” He clears his throat. And then, “Prince Alhaitham.”

A beat. “Oh.”

In which Kaveh is a tailor indebted to Dori, Alhaitham is the Prince of Sumeru, and they meet at a masquerade. Or, a little twist on the Cinderella trope.

Notes:

• For Adyvasha.

hello ady!!!! i saw your prompts and fell in love.
i was very honored to be able to pinch hit for this and i hope i did your prompts justice!!!!!

Chapter 1

Kaveh’s fingers restlessly adjust his mask. Before him is an entire room filled with merchants, knights and delegates, each sporting a unique mask of their own. In each of their pockets—jacket, slacks or otherwise—is an invitation to the Royal Gala. For Kaveh? Well, his sweaty palms nearly crush the letter addressed to Lord Sangemah Bay.

He has this completely under control.

(He doesn’t.)

* * *

Hours ago, Kaveh had made the spur of the moment decision to “borrow” his mentor’s unused royal invite and rush to the palace to take a quick glimpse into the life of the elite. He had promised himself he wouldn’t stay long, that he had to be back by midnight to ensure that the shipment of imported textiles from Mondstadt made it safely from the shipping dock to the storage room of Dori’s shop. An hour or so would be fine; everyone would be wearing masks and the gala was for the purpose of celebrating all the various contributors the nation’s success in the first place. Anonymity would be all but assured, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be too out of place, right?

He felt guilty. Of course he did. The invitation wasn’t his, and he was already in enough debt as it was. Still, attending the gala was free and if Dori wasn’t here to go herself, why not make use of it? Surely the headcount already included her.

So, it had been a mad dash to cobble together an outfit that would complement the gold and teal-feathered mask he had worn only once before when he and his mother visited Fontaine. A white suit was the winner, and Kaveh had opted to leave his hair down for the night instead of up in the messy bun he preferred when he was hard at work tailoring outfits.

One hour. He’d come back to the shop after just one hour. Nothing terrible could happen in the span of one hour.

(It did.)

* * *

The first thing Kaveh notices about the Royal Gala is that everyone is wearing some variety of scent blocker in the form of patches on their wrists. The second? That he actually does recognize a few folks from his various dealings with other merchants.

That said, it is their voices and mannerisms that give them away. Kaveh stores that information away carefully—if anyone recognized him as Dori’s apprentice, word would get out that she herself could not attend and that the broke blond from the tailor shop had thought himself worthy of flitting amongst Sumeru’s finest.

Candles float beautifully around the ballroom. Given his financial situation, Kaveh hasn’t been able to afford luxuries like these in years, since he was a much younger teenager studying abroad.

(Back before he presented as an Omega and learned that the world was filled with both danger and excitement. That each person had a unique scent and that sometimes, scents could be dangerous. Tonight? His designation as an Omega is pushed into the far recesses of his mind. Tonight, he’s just a faceless number in a boisterous crowd here to celebrate the good fortune of the nation.)

Kaveh navigates the throng of dancers and finds himself a quiet corner near a set of doors that lead out to the balcony. They are open, allowing a nice breeze to drift in that keeps the ball from growing too hot from all the body heat. There, he sips at a glass of champagne and observes.

It’s flattering how many attendees are wearing outfits he’s personally had a hand in altering. Breathtaking gowns, form-fitting suits, pearl-embroided shawls. Kaveh remembers each and every piece. A sense of pride blazes warmly in his chest right beside the burn of the alcohol that is likely half his month’s rent. Even if he was millions of mora in debt, he still was able to continue to master his craft. While harsh and unbudging with business terms, Dori had always been fair.

(He’d have taken on a million more debt, too, if it meant giving his Mother another year to live. He’d be an apprentice forever if he could ensure a smile on her face each day.)

“Kaveh?”

Busted.

Tensing, Kaveh directs his attention to his half-empty champagne flute and not the familiar swish of a tail as someone approaches him. Perhaps if he doesn’t move a muscle they’ll just go away.

“It is you,” says the not-stranger, tone warm but with a touch of amusement. “You didn’t tell me you were coming. We could have shared a carriage.”

“Shhhhh,” Kaveh says, very smoothly, very convincingly.

He meets his friend’s gaze dead-on. Kaveh can just tell that an eyebrow is lifting in a deeply unimpressed fashion behind that mask. Ugh!

He tries again. “Listen,” he says, hurriedly, “I didn’t actually get invited, per-say. Lord Sangemah Bay is away on travel and had a spare invite. I’m sure it’s fine. I was planning to leave soon, anyway. So in the end…”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” says his friend.

“A weird thing for a fox to say,” Kaveh mutters back, nose wrinkling. He finishes his glass of champagne and tries to ignore the restless feeling in his gut that feels an awful lot like guilt clawing its way back up into his conscience. “Please don’t tell anyone you saw me, Tighnari. I’m begging you, my friend.”

Tighnari sighs. “Well, don’t grovel. That’s a little extreme.”

“I’m not groveling. It was a figure of…” Kaveh trails off. His shoulders droop. “Fine, fine. But please tell me I have your word?”

“It’s fine,” Tighanri reassures, a ghost of a smile taking shape. “It isn’t like this gala was exclusively for nobles or anything. The whole point was to celebrate the people of Sumeru.”

So why were the invites so limited? The question hangs heavy in Kaveh’s head but mercifully does not leave his lips. Instead, he gives a mute nod.

Tighnari gestures back out to the crowded room. “If you’re not staying long, why not mingle? It’s not as if anyone is going to be shocked that the best tailor in Sumeru City is here for the night. I’m sure they’d love to chat with you about their clothes.”

A warm red dusts Kaveh’s cheeks. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Tighnari’s laugh is sunny. “I’m not trying to flatter you. It’s the truth.” A pause, and Tighanri’s tail swishes behind him a little faster. “Who knows, Kaveh. Maybe you’ll even find your knight in shining armor.”

The color immediately drains from Kaveh’s face. “I thought you said you’d never talk about that again!”

Ignoring Kaveh’s affronted posturing, Tighnari laughs again. “How many glasses of wine did you have that night? Cyno and I were too amused to stop you from rambling on about how one day, you’d be saved from the dastardly clutches of your mentor and whisked off to a winery somewhere in the countryside and—”

“All right.” Flustered, Kaveh reaches for Tighnari’s shoulder. “All right,” he repeats, a little more deflated. “That was… well, we all have fantasies, don’t we? And it wasn’t my fault. Cyno lent me that book and it was freshly on my mind.”

Tighnari’s expression drops. “Really? Cyno?”

“You didn’t know? He’s the reason the library never has any romance novels available to borrow—” Kaveh begins, exasperated, but then quickly falters. Realizing belatedly he may have spilled the beans on a little secret of one of Sumeru’s most respected knights, he quickly begins to backpedal. “Ah, yes, well.. did you see the floral arrangements, Tighnari? They’re beautiful. What species are they on the walls?”

“Don’t try and distract me, Kaveh,” Tighnari says, more or less huffing. “Cyno reads romance novels? Since when?”

Well. It’s not like he hasn’t dug his own grave, anyway. “They’re all pretty cliche.”

“Yet you read them, too.”

Kaveh rapidly replaces his empty champagne flute with a fresh one on the tray held by a passing waiter. He drains half of it and mutters, “Does it come as any surprise that I’m a little bit of a romantic?”

“You’re in love with love,” Tighnari muses. “The idea of being in love, rather than falling in love with anyone in particular.”

For once, Kaveh is thankful for his blockers. He’s certain his scent would otherwise be wildly alternating between wistful and sour at his glum prospects.

(Who would want an indebted tailor to be their Omega? Certainly not an Alpha. Perhaps a Beta that did not care much for titles or tradition. Or, another Omega down on their luck. There would be no knight in shining armor to whisk Kaveh away. Mostly because the very idea of bending to the whims of an Alpha and having anyone save him was deeply offensive. He had made a name for himself with his own merit, his own skill, his own dogged determination. He didn’t need an Alpha to fix his problems for him.

… even if the idea of companionship spun around on repeat in his mind over and over.)

Deep in thought, Kaveh misses the tensing of Tighnari’s shoulders. He does not see the nervous flick of his ears or how his posture changes completely. Instead, Kaveh chews at his bottom lip and dwells on all the ways his life could have gone if he had found a different benefactor that was more considerate of his and his Mother’s financial condition.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Tighnari says distantly.

“Huh? Meeting me? What…”

And then Kaveh watches as his only friend in the room ditches him, disappearing into the collection of bodies gathered on the ballroom floor.

A hand taps his shoulder.

Bewildered, Kaveh spins around. A man with a black and gray feathered mask stares back at him. His suit isn’t one Kaveh recognizes—not one of Kaveh’s pieces—but the teal accent work and the way it hugs his waist is certainly pleasing to the eye. Realizing that staring at someone’s outfit could be wildly misconstrued, Kaveh’s eyes snap back up to the piercing set of eyes behind all the feathers.

“Which is it?”

The voice is unfamiliar, too.

“Pardon?”

The man lifts a hand to his own mask and gestures at the feathers. “Yours. What bird is it?”

“Ah.” Kaveh self-consciously runs a fingertip over the array of feathers at the edge of his own mask. “It’s fashioned after Birds of Paradise. This isn’t the only color, but it did seem to fit best with the suit, so I figured less was more.”

The man wrinkles his nose. “Is that native to Sumeru?”

“More or less, yes.”

“Right.”

A heavy pause hangs between them. Suddenly, Kaveh is hyper-aware of the fact he must stand out like a sore thumb. He hasn’t the faintest idea if the masks are meant to preserve anonymity and that introducing oneself is a social taboo, or if the whole point of the royal gala is to mingle and make connections. Oh, his head is certainly spinning now. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that second glass of champagne on an empty stomach—

“It’s…probably an unpopular choice,” Kaveh begins to ramble, gesturing a hand around in the air. “Feathers, I mean. They’re not the easiest to add to masks given how readily they can fall off and sometimes can poke at your skin or even worse, stab you in the eye.”

“I’m doing fine.”

What’s with this guy? “Oh. Well… yes.”

“Are you having issues with yours?” the stranger asks.

Flushing red, Kaveh quickly whips his head side to side. “Of course not. I wasn’t implying that. I simply was noting the reason why most masks usually are kept to metals and easier-to-place trinkets.”

The man folds his arms to his chest. A smirk dances on his face and Kaveh feels hot under the collar. What’s with him, he repeats in his head.

“Are you enjoying the gala?”

Kaveh isn’t sure what possesses him to say it, but the words come tumbling out of him unbidden, “it’s a bit much, don’t you think? The floating candles, the Electro used in the flowers to illuminate them when they’re perfectly fine as they are. The music is quite good, don’t get me wrong, but the choices in table clothes and decorations on the walls? Terribly lacking. Did the person decorating for this event even realize the honor they were being given? Had I been in charge, I would have focused on telling more of a story. Take, for example, the doorway when you enter. That's the first impression you get. Why weren’t the Electro flowers placed there, if they had to be placed anywhere at all? It’d be warm and inviting. Putting them in the corners just doesn’t make any sense!”

The man does not look away. Not even once. By the time Kaveh’s tirade is over, the smirk’s grown in size. Kaveh tries not to get distracted by the fact it accentuates the man’s sharp features.

“Anything else?”

Kaveh sputters. “What do you mean anything else?”

“The food.”

“Oh, I haven’t tried it yet,” Kaveh says, wincing a little as it begins to settle in that he’s just ranted to a complete stranger about the royal decorations. He swallows down a lump of nerves. “Please excuse me. I remembered I have somewhere to be.”

As he turns, he bumps into a dancing couple. Rambling out a slew of apologies, he hurries as far away from the balcony as physically possible. If this were to get back to Dori, he’d be ruined.

Before he can make his way out of the ballroom, a warm hand closes around his wrist. For better or for worse, it’s the same man as before, those teal eyes seemingly staring right into his soul.

(Yeah, he needs to lay off Cyno’s books as soon as possible.)

“Wait,” the man says, voice a touch warmer than before, the smugness gone from both it and his expression. “Tell whoever it is that’s waiting on you it’s my fault.”

“Your fault for…?”

The man drops Kaveh’s wrist but then extends an upturned palm. “For making you late. Anyway, the song. It’s expected that we dance. Certainly you wouldn’t want to besmirch any more traditions tonight, Bird of Paradise?”

Kaveh snorts. How brazen. How foolish. He’s about to turn him down when he notices that everyone else is suddenly paired off. The twinkling lights around them cast orange shadows on the stranger’s face and Kaveh is thankful that he can’t discern if he’s Alpha, Beta or Omega. For once, it does not matter.

“One dance,” Kaveh says almost as a warning.

“Already assessing my dancing prowess?” asks the stranger, sounding entertained all over again.

Kaveh flushes. “Um.” He curls his fingers loosely around the stranger’s hand. They fit like a glove. “No, I just really have to be going after this. I didn’t mean to come across as rude…”

“You did.”

Kaveh winces. “I’d apologize, but you’re being quite rude yourself.”

“Oh?”

“Making fun of a person you just met? That isn’t very polite. Even if I did overshare my opinions on the decorations, teasing me with a level of familiarity is awfully presumptuous.”

The man’s smirk is gorgeous this time. “Presumptuous. I see. What am I presuming, then?”

“That I would be comfortable being teased by someone I hardly know,” Kaveh quickly counters. Only then does he realize what the stranger is getting at. Heat floods his cheeks and he quickly amends, “I’m not talking about that type of familiarity, Vulcan.”

The man’s eyes soften behind the mask. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Most people guess a crow or raven.”

“What? Why? They’re completely different species! The feathers don't even look that similar.”

They continue to spin around on the dance floor. Kaveh somehow does not mind that this mouthy stranger is the one doing the leading. No, he’s far too enraptured by this push-and-pull, this absurd conversation that has him on his toes and struggling to keep up. The warm press of a palm against his lower back is nice, addicting in a way he usually abhors. There is a definite chemistry between them despite the surface-level nagging.

“I know,” agrees the stranger, finally. His eyes are still so gentle. “I wasn’t presuming anything, by the way.”

“Good.” Kaveh turns his head up a little proudly. “It’s rude to assume anything of anyone, especially when they’re an Omega. Do you know how exhausting that gets to be?”

“I didn’t know you were an Omega.”

Embarrassed, Kaveh’s hand twitches against the stranger’s palm. The reminder that he needs to go soon, that the shipment is more important than whatever this is, hangs heavy over his head. If the shipment is stolen, Dori will blame him. And then he’ll lose the little income he’s making and she’ll stop his Mother’s treatment and— Kaveh pulls his hand away.

“I’m sorry. I need to go.”

The man frowns. “The song isn’t over. Now who’s being rude?”

“Really, I’m sorry,” Kaveh says hurriedly as he pulls away completely, his heart racing as he tries not to let his spiraling thoughts take hold. Heart pounding in his chest, he offers a weak smile. “Thank you for this. It was nice, even if you’re quite strange.”

And then as quickly as Kaveh arrived at the palace, he leaves.

(But not without a single teal feather kissing the ballroom floor as he makes his grand escape.)

* * *

The shipment is safely secured and Dori arrives bright and early the next day, none the wiser. Kaveh’s dreams that night, though, are plagued with the silhouettes of dancers and a scent he will never have the chance to know. He buries his book recommendations from Cyno under his bed and pushes away the tantalizing thought of a romance. His life is not a book. There is no knight in shining armor. There is only Kaveh.

There will ever only be Kaveh.

* * *

“—and frankly, the type of person that habitually attends those sorts of events? No thank you. Yes, every artisan should take pride in their craft, but the attitude of a few attendees was exhausting. Why did you abandon me so suddenly, anyway? That person in particular was quite pompous and exceedingly pedantic.”

Tighnari’s blinking slows to a crawl. Kaveh barrels onward, nearly knocking his tea off the little cafe table.

“Further! You should have warned me it’d be so exhausting to chat with him. I’m not as used to these types of things as you are, so I would have at least appreciated an introduction or a convenient excuse to leave. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have called him rude straight to his face.”

Tighnari sets his glass down. Takes a deep breath.

“Kaveh.”

“And he—huh? Yes?”

“You do realize that was Alhaitham, right?”

A long pause. “Who?”

Tighnari’s palm meets his face. “Sorry, of course you of all people wouldn’t care to know about these things.” He clears his throat. And then, “Prince Alhaitham.”

A beat.

“Oh.” And then Kaveh buries his face into his palms, a loud groan tearing itself from deep inside of his chest. “This is going to ruin me, isn’t it?”

There was no way Dori wouldn’t hear of his indiscretion. Luck was indeed not on his side.

* * *

There are rumors. Of course there are. Now that Kaveh knows that his dance partner was the crowned Prince himself it’s difficult not to lean in a little closer to a gossiping couple at the market. Even harder not to find himself catching up on the “lore”, so to speak, of the royal family.

A benevolent bunch, the current Queen rules with gentleness but logic. Her grandson, Prince Alhaitham, is next in line to the throne after a tragic accident stole away his parents at a young ago. While the Queen is known for her warmth, the Prince is known for his prickliness and apparent indifference to the social aspects of being a royal. Except as of late, it seems.

The Prince has been spotted at various shops around Sumeru City over the course of the last week. The reason is a heated point of contention between those you ask—the Prince is finally seeking an Omega to court, he is looking for a criminal who stole a valuable artifact from the most recent gala, or he’s commissioning a new suit. The list goes on. No one can say with any level of certainty what the “antisocial” Prince is doing.

Kaveh doesn’t care. It’s none of his business. He tells himself the Prince’s affairs do not matter nor interest him.

(That one dance, that exchange of playful barbs and sharp tongues, can live on just as that: a memory.)

* * *

Kaveh pours himself into his craft over the next couple of days. A tall nobleman had requested some assistance with his pants, as the cuffs as-made rose too high on his calves. Making things longer was always exceedingly more difficult than shortening them, but Kaveh had always been the type to tackle a challenge head-on.

For a few days, nothing comes out of his fumbling at the palace. Dori does not hear about the embarrassment her apprentice has caused and Tighnari pointedly avoids the topic when he joins Kaveh at the tavern for a well-deserved drink.

It isn’t until a week later when Dori is once again away for business that the front door of the shop swings open and with it in walks the most peculiar scent. A musky cross between rain and old books, it is both inviting and unnervingly standoffish, almost frustratingly so.

“Ah, one moment, please. I’ll be right with you,” Kaveh says, voice muffled by the pin cushion he’s holding at the corner of his mouth, his hands otherwise preoccupied with slowly removing the seams of a pant leg.

The scent thickens in the air.

“It’s you.”

Kaveh’s head whirls towards the source.

The front door closes. In front of it stands the same man from the gala, this time with his mask shed. Kaveh’s heart races for all the wrong reasons. He smells like an Alpha.

“Your Highness,” Kaveh sputters, nearly spitting the pin cushion across the room. Quickly, he retrieves the damned thing from between his teeth and sets it down next to the base of the mannequin. “Is there something I can do for you…?”

“You’re not wearing blockers this time.”

The bluntness of the statement catches Kaveh off guard. Panic continues to fester in his gut and he steels himself with a blanker expression. “Pardon….?”

The Prince aims a deeply unimpressed look his way. “There was a rumor that shopkeepers felt compelled to wear blockers during the workday. I’m glad to see it was just that.”

Kaveh is struggling to keep up. “Um. Right.” His eyes drift away from the Prince’s formidable figure and back towards his pants project. “Is there anything I can help you with, then? Lord—”

“A name,” says the Prince, calmly.

His name?

“Why?”

Kaveh bites his tongue. Before he can rephrase, Prince Alhaitham is crossing the small shop in large strides. He stands dauntingly next to Kaveh who very eloquently rises from his stool, finding himself still an inch or so shorter than Alhaitham.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Alhaitham sounds more surprised than offended; Kaveh supposes that’s a good sign.

“I’m a little surprised it would matter to you,” Kaveh answers and then promptly clamps his mouth back shut. “That’s… not to insinuate anything, of course.”

Alhaitham exhales an amused huff though his nose. He stands up straight once more, eyes finally darting away from Kaveh. Kaveh finds himself missing the intensity of his scent the second it’s gone.

“Come to the palace the next time you have a day off,” he finally says as he turns around and heads to the door.

Now that hardly makes any sense whatsoever. “The palace? What for?”

Alhaitham waves a hand dismissively over his shoulder. “Tell them the Prince requested you. You’ll be let in. Probably.”

“Probably?”

Another shrug, this time with Alhaitham’s hand on the door. “I guess that depends on how convincing you are. Anyway, bye.”

“W-wait! What do you mean convincing?!”

Kaveh’s complaints fall on deaf ears. Prince Alhaitham is gone.

What just happened?

* * *

Despite his good sense, Kaveh goes to the palace a few days later. Who is he to ignore a royal request, even as outlandish as it is?

The knights escort Kaveh to the royal gardens and there he waits for Alhaitham. Kaveh can’t make out what the mutterings are, but he suspects more rumors are beginning to simmer.

“I need a favor.”

Kaveh whips his head to the side. As before, that scent overtakes him and Kaveh feels nearly nostalgic. Not because he missed the scent or the brief encounters before this, but simply because all his favorite books always take place in a scenic place like a rose garden and the Alpha always smells so delicious —

Right. Focus, Kaveh.

“A favor,” he repeats, ignoring the urge to accuse the prince of bad manners. Who doesn’t say a simple ‘hello’?

A nod. Alhaitham steps closer and as breezily as ever before, says, “I need to court you.”

Court him. Of course. That makes complete sense—

Court him?

“You’re joking.”

“Hm. I didn’t think I said it any differently than anything else. Let me try again.”

“No, no. Don’t take that tone with me.”

Kaveh can feel his blood pressure spiking. How in the world did he ever think Dori was the most difficult person he had ever dealt with when Prince Alhaitham was right here all along, waiting to overcomplicate his already stressful existence. The nerve of this man.

“Should I indicate to my grandmother that I am actively engaging in a courtship with an Omega, she will stop sending suitors my way and wasting my time. It does not matter if the Omega is from the same wealth as she had anticipated or targeted, so that won’t be an issue.”

Kaveh’s face flushes worse than before. “When you asked if I could do you a favor, I truly did not think faking a courtship was on that list.”

Alhaitham snorts. “I’m not asking you to do anything. You won’t need to act at all. Say and do as you please.”

“How do you suppose she will believe you if I’m nowhere near you?”

With this, Alhaitham draws closer. Even though they are alone in the royal gardens Kaveh can feel his heart rate accelerate. Up this close, Kaveh can see gold specks in Alhaitham’s eyes. They’re terribly enchanting.

“Feel free to say no.”

Kaveh blinks rapidly. “What do you mean?” he questions, eyes slightly narrowing. “I can’t just turn down a royal request, you realize.”

“You are a free man. You have the right to do and say as you please, within the laws of the land anyway.”

Kaveh feels another headache coming on. “And isn’t it the unspoken law of the land to listen to your rulers?” he posits.

Alhaitham shrugs. “Within reason.”

“And this falls outside reason?”

Alhaitham does not answer. He turns to the rose bushes. For a second, Kaveh is convinced the fool is about to pluck a rose straight from its source, but Alhaitham’s hand falls away at the last second.

“You’re returning a favor,” Alhaitham explains, words aimed at the bushes and not Kaveh.

“What favor?” With this, Kaveh folds his arms across his chest. He stamps down the part of him that is still reeling at speaking and arguing so openly with the Prince of Sumeru. “I haven’t done you any favors nor vice versa.”

“I returned the feather, didn’t I?”

“The feather…” Kaveh trails off, frowns. And then throws his hands up in vexation. “A feather from a mask? You think that is on par with dissuading royal suitors for Sumeru’s Prince?” he asks, just to be crystal clear. There is no way…

Alhaitham nods.

Kaveh’s groan grows in volume. “You’re a madman,” he exhales.

Had Kaveh not been stealing glances at him, he may have missed the quirk of Alhaitham’s lips and the budding of a small smile. It steals his breath away. “So that’s a no,” he hears Alhaitham say almost cockily.

“It’s not a yes,” Kaveh counters stubbornly. Then, he falters. “… but it’s also not a no,” he says, gentler. “Listen. I’m not the right person for this. Yes, I’m an Omega, but…”

“There is no other.”

Heat crawls up Kaveh’s neck. “There are plenty, objectively speaking…” he defends, trailing off yet again.

“Subjectively, there is only one person fit for the job.”

Kaveh grinds his teeth together. This is utterly foolish, complete madness. “I don’t understand, Your Majesty. You have no qualms with bickering with me and making your intentions clear. Why don’t you apply that same bluntness to your personal matters? If you’re so opposed to finding a mate so early in life, then why don’t you just tell the Queen?”

Alhaitham’s expression grows distant. It looks all wrong on him.

As silence stretches between them, Kaveh not for the first time feels as if he’s overstepped. Biting his bottom lip, he lowers his gaze to the flowers decorating both sides of the path.

“I understand if it’s a no. That’s fine.”

Kaveh presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. “No, it’s not a no. Just… say what you want. I don’t need to do anything, you said. That’s fine.”

Alhaitham looks back towards him. There’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before; Kaveh isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not. “Thank you.”

For some reason, gratitude sounds strange on Alhaitham’s lips. Kaveh turns to the side, fighting back the urge to fluster all over again. Alhaitham said it himself—nothing will change. So why does he feel like, suddenly, everything has?

“Yes, well. You can repay me by delivering a nice bottle of wine to the shop. Deal?”

Alhaitham’s snort is at least familiar. “Is that all?”

“I reserve the right to ask for more.”

“The feather wasn’t enough. I see.”

Kaveh can’t believe this man. He’s starting to think he’s being riled up on purpose. Ugh!

“I need to be going now,” Kaveh says quickly, eager to avoid being trapped in another round of teasing.

(That, and the Prince is far too easy on the eyes and if Kaveh overthinks what just happened—that the Prince is going to claim he’s courting some poor tailor so he can avoid marriage? Well. Kaveh may faint on the spot.)

“I’ll visit soon,” Alhaitham says so calmly, so casually. “Let me walk you out.”

“Escorting me personally, Your Highness? People will talk.”

“Exactly.”

Kaveh can’t hide his grin. He doesn’t try.

* * *

Alhaitham visits.

And he visits often.

The entourage of royal knights that show up to Dori’s little shop is distracting. Often, she’s out tending to business when they stop by, but the first time it is explained to her that the Prince of Sumeru is here to visit her worker? Well, Kaveh never thought she was a menace, but the smirk and commentary she unleashes later that day certainly says otherwise.

When did his life become some big joke?

* * *

“There’s another event coming up,” Alhaitham tells him later that month as they are walking side by side in the city. The knights, to their credit, have learned to trust Kaveh and do not hover nearly as close as they used to weeks ago.

“Oh? Do you need an outfit made for it?”

Alhaitham lifts a brow, but the edges of his lips twitch. “If you’d like to dress me, I’m not opposed. But my point in bringing that up was to invite you as a guest. It’d look a little off if you weren’t there.”

Right. Because some people think he’s courting Kaveh.

(The earrings, the flowers, the wine. Kaveh doesn’t hate it, but he also thinks it’s a bit much to keep his one-sided ruse going. Certainly the Queen has seen right through him by now?)

“Is it another masked event?” Kaveh asks.

“Yes. Similar to before, it’s a celebration of the tradesmen,” Alhaitham explains. “The first was a notable success. I’d like to continue having them. Monthly, if possible.”

Kaveh wrinkles his nose. “Really? You’d like to? Didn’t you complain how exhausting they were?”

A rare red spreads high on Alhaitham’s cheekbones. Kaveh did not think it possible. It’s almost… cute.

“I can handle a few hours of socialization. Besides, you’ll be there.”

The words make Kaveh feel weird, warm. Hot under his skin. He subconsciously picks at the patch on his wrist, thankful that it masks what must be embarrassment flooding through him. His scent would be a dead giveaway.

“I’ll think about it,” Kaveh says just to say he did.

(In reality, the last month has been fun. Despite the prickliness of the Prince, he’s a good conversation partner—he’s exceptionally intelligent, empathetic towards the people of Sumeru, and frustratingly good to smell when he does have his scent-blockers removed.

Not like Kaveh is keeping tabs on that. Of course not.)

“Swing by the shop tomorrow. I’ll take your measurements and make you something,” Kaveh says after a comfortable moment of silence has passed.

Kaveh nearly misses it, but the gentle upward curve of Alhaithan’s lips is there for a few seconds. It’s breathtaking.

They don’t talk much after that, as they wander the streets.

(They don’t need to.)

* * *

“Stop stabbing me.”

“Don’t be a baby, Your Highness. It’s just a pin.”

“It is a sharp object that should not be stabbing me, Kaveh.”

Kaveh hides a grin into the side of his arm as he continues to pin the suit at Alhaitham’s waist. His hands linger there, firmly at his hips, and not for the first time does his mind wander to what ifs and how strangely nice it would be to find companionship in an Alpha that fit so well into his life in ways he was not expecting.

“If you keep complaining, I’ll get distracted and do it more.”

Alhaitham huffs. The grown Prince of Sumeru huffs and Kaveh’s heart swells.

(His scent must do something similar because Alhaitham’s nose twitches.

He still doesn’t know if Alhaitham likes his scent.

And that totally doesn’t keep Kaveh up at night or distract him when he’s doing alterations for other customers.)

Mercifully, Alhaitham shuts up as requested and the remaining process of fixing up the suit goes as smoothly as it can.

(Kaveh won’t dream of his face being near Alhaitham’s crotch like it was today. He won’t drift off into thoughts of grabbing him by the waist and steering him into a kiss just for the Prince to pin him against a wall and ravish his mouth and then neck.

Not Kaveh. He’d never do that.)

* * *

“There’s something different about you,” Tighnari says the next time he’s at the tavern with Kaveh.

“Hm?”

“You’re… more confident,” Tighnari notes, squinting as he inspects his friend. “Like how you were before you started working for Dori. What’s changed?”

Kaveh shifts restlessly in his seat. “Does something need to have changed?”

“It’s a nice look,” Tighnari adds, tone growing softer. “Whatever it is you’re doing, or not doing, keep it up. I’ve missed your smile.”

Kaveh tries not to let that go to his head. Tries not to think too hard because if he does, he’ll realize that it’s not the customers or even the fact that his Mother’s condition has been stable for six months after such a horrid trajectory. No, the only change has been Alhaitham.

He fusses with the feather tucked behind his ear. He hasn't taken it out of his hair since his conversation with Alhaitham in the rose garden. “Thank you,” he says, wishing that the feather still smelled like Alhaitham as it did that first day he returned it.

(Who is he joking? He has a crush on a royal. What terrible, rotten luck.

He can’t “keep this up” as Tighanri puts it. It isn’t that simple. It’ll never be that simple.)

* * *

“I’ll go.”

The look of surprise that sprawls across Alhaitham’s face is worth it. Kaveh feels it in his gut, his soul. There is something here, some chemistry, and he’ll continue bluntly ignoring it right until the day he dies.

(Because he can’t actually believe Alhaitham is courting him for real. He can’t let his heart get its hopes up just to be crushed.)

He also can’t tell Alhaitham no. He just can’t.

“I’ll have a room made up for you, then,” says Alhaitham, slowly nodding.

“What? Why?”

“The last time we drank together, you were stumbling all over the place, Kaveh. It’ll make me feel better if you stayed the night at the palace.”

Alhaitham isn’t wrong…

“Okay, okay,” Kaveh concedes. “Will you wait for me at the gates tomorrow?”

It’s a joke. He clearly doesn’t expect the Prince to personally greet him at the gates when all the other guests—

“Yeah.”

This man is going to kill him.

“…I’ll see you there, then.”

Alhaitham’s hand brushes against his as he turns to leave. He takes Kaveh’s heart with him as he goes.

(This is bad.)

* * *

Alhaitham, to his credit, smells fantastic. He’s known that since the first time he smelled him, but as of late, it’s gotten worse. Better, technically speaking, but also so much worse because all Kaveh can think of is stealing something of the Prince’s to put into his nest. All he can fantasize about is Alhaitham.

When Alhaitham shows him to the guest chambers, Kaveh nearly leans in and smells his neck. He controls himself in the last possible second, not wanting Alhaitham to get uncomfortable or any wild ideas. They’re just… acquaintances. Doing favors for each other. Non-sexual favors.

Kaveh is still mourning the loss of his scent when Alhaitham reappears in the doorway of the guest chambers with patches on his scent glands. The bastard. Something related to yearning burns heavy in Kaveh’s chest. He shoves that down right alongside the guilt over spending so much time at the palace when he has debts compounding on each other.

“Ready?”

“This a little nostalgic,” Kaveh admits as he finishes strapping his mask on. He meets Alhaitham’s gaze in the mirror and ignores the countless beats his heart skips. “It’s been what? A little over a month, now?”

Alhaitham nods.

Kaveh tucks his hair over the edges of the mask and offers a smaller smile into the glass. “I heard a rumor, actually.”

“And?”

Kaveh turns around on the chair. His eyes dance up to Alhaitham and land on the edges of vulcan feathers instead of the sharp eyes that he’s grown far too accustomed to staring into.

“The crowned Prince has been looking for someone from the gala last month. Your advisors are saying that you’re taken by them.” A pause, as Kaveh fiddles with the latch of one of his earrings. “I’d say your plan is working perfectly.”

Alhaitham’s smirk is mesmerizing. It grows slowly at first, a small trickle, before it overtakes his features. Or maybe that’s just because he’s suddenly so, so close. Kaveh can feel his breath fan over his face as he bends down and forward. The feathers of Alhaitham’s mask tickle at his cheeks and Kaveh holds his breath for as long as he can.

“For someone as intelligent as you, I fail to see how you still think I did not mean what I said.”

Kaveh doesn’t follow. He opens his mouth to say as much, but Alhaitham peels away one of the patches at his own wrists. Suddenly, his familiar scent floods the tiny guest room and Kaveh sinks into it, into how it makes him feel so very alive.

“But you said…”

Alhaitham’s fingers give a gentle nudge to an earring. It swings back and forth and Kaveh fights every instinct to lean into his touch. “After days of gathering information about the guest list, I showed up at your store.”

“To return the feather,” Kaveh says, out of breath, weaker than before.

“To return the feather,” Alhaitham agrees, and then adds, softer, barely above a whisper, “and to see you again.”

Kaveh swallows down weeks worth of nerves. “But why…”

“Why not?” Alhaitham says instead, hand falling from Kaveh’s earring to take one of Kaveh’s hands into his. He strokes a thumb along the back of it and murmurs, tone endlessly fond and with not a single ounce of sarcasm, “how could it be anyone but the mouthy tailor who told me I was rude and had poor taste in decorations?”

Kaveh’s face is on fire. “Your taste is terrible,” he grumbles.

“Omega or not, you are the only person I am interested in pursuing. Whether that takes the shape of a formal courtship or not, I don’t really care. The particulars have never mattered much to me,” Alhaitham explains.

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once,” Kaveh jokes as he tries to ignore how overheated he feels, how his own scent is spiking in response to Alhaitham’s, how he keeps tilting his head more and more to the left, as if to bare his unmarked neck for an Alpha. “So you’ve… what? Been trying to court me this whole time? Because I was objectively rude to you?”

“Didn’t you say I was the rude one?” Alhaitham asks, his eyes undeniably landing on Kaveh’s hand. It sends even more heat lancing through Kaveh. “The ball is starting soon. We should go.”

He can’t. Not when this is suddenly so close.

“You can’t just say those things and then tell us to go,” Kaveh blurts out in one singular breath, taking off his mask. Alhaitham mirrors his actions without a word.

Eyes wide, Kaveh pushes forward off his seat, banging their foreheads together. With confidence he had thought long lost, he grabs at the lapels of Alhaitham’s suit and he yanks. Their mouths crash together.

There is little finesse in what could be considered a first kiss. Kaveh feels the wetness of Alhaitham’s lips as strongly as he smells the spice in his scent and the vibrations in his chest, an unmistakable purr stirring. Alhaitham’s hand eventually cups the back of his head to guide them into something slower and more tender. It still doesn’t feel like enough.

“Prince or not, you are frustrating,” Kaveh breathes, nipping Alhaitham’s bottom lip.

“Hm. Is that so?”

Kaveh kisses the smirk right off his face.

Desperate for more affection, more touching, he drags himself up to his feet, using Alhaitham’s suit jacket as leverage. Alhaitham’s right arm slips around his waist to stabilize him. It feels nearly perfect.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham tells him, voice muffled by the continued barrage of kisses.

“No more out of you,” Kaveh grumbles as he eagerly leads the two of them back towards the bed.

With one singular push, he succeeds in relocating the pair of them onto the guest bed. Kaveh wastes no time in climbing on top of Alhaitham, messily finding his mouth again. He immediately moans at the taste of him.

“Eager,” Alhaitham snorts as he adjusts, bending one of his knees to that he can slot it up between Kaveh’s. The gasp he earns is loud. “And wet already. Hm.”

“Shut up,” Kaveh groans, moving his lips to Alhaitham’s neck as his suit pants continue to soak through, the slick gathering at his thighs making all of this all the hotter.

“I’ve barely touched you,” Alhaitham notes in fascination as he repeats what he did before, this time paying more attention to the source of wetness rather than the hard outline of Kaveh’s cock straining against the front of his pants. “How desperate will you be when I do that?”

“I thought I told you no more out of you,” Kaveh gasps as he rocks his body down against the knee. It’s not enough, never will be enough, but he finds the pleasure enough to keep his brain from short-circuiting from pent-up desire. “I need you so badly,” he adds, squirming more on top of Alhaitham.

“We can’t. Not fully,” Alhaitham murmurs, his breath hitching when Kaveh’s teeth catch on the curve of his neck. “Careful, Kaveh.”

“What? Don’t want anyone to see marks?” he says to the damp skin.

“We will miss the gala entirely if you keep biting like that,” Alhaitham corrects him and then suddenly flips their positions.

Now, Kaveh is on his back, hair fanned out and face a deep crimson. His pants are wet in all different places and all he can smell is Alhaitham. His mating gland burns, throbbing with a need to be bruised over, but he shoves that thought away for the time being. There’s no rush, there’s no need to barrel into things.

(But the Omega in him wants so badly, so fully, that logic is starting to make less and less sense.)

“Hi,” Kaveh says, breathless, staring up into the very same eyes that captivated him a month ago.

“Hello,” Alhaitham answers, voice rough with clear want but also fond. “You’re very beautiful, Kaveh.”

“Flatterer,” Kaveh mumbles.

Alhaitham rocks his hips down. The slow grind of his erection against Kaveh’s has Kaveh arching his back, heels digging into the bed.

“I do not say things I don’t mean. Too much effort,” Alhaitham says, dropping his head down to mouth over the very same spot that aches.

Teeth at his mating gland has Kaveh coming without warning. His eyes screw shut and he throws his head back so hard the base of his neck aches, too. But for once, his head is quiet. There are no thoughts.

Alhaitham sits up a little. Panting, he stares down at Kaveh, one hand moving to brush his sweaty bangs off his face for him. They stay like that for a few minutes, wrapped in a silence that is more comforting than words could ever be.

“Don’t say it,” Kaveh grumbles when he finally has caught his breath.

Smirking, Alhaitham presses a single kiss to his throat. “One day,” Kaveh thinks he hears Alhaitham whisper to the skin before he pulls back completely and gets to his feet.

“You’re not…?” Kaveh wonders, propping himself up on his elbows. His heart is still racing and the slick and cum in his pants needs to be addressed sooner rather than later. He doesn’t budge an inch.

“Later,” Alhaitham murmurs.

“But you’re so hard,” Kaveh points, gesturing towards the very noticeable bulge.

“I usually am when I am with you,” mutters Alhaitham as he adjusts his pants and begins to fix his perpetually messy fringe.

“What?” That’s news to Kaveh.

Alhaitham glances back at him. “Kaveh,” he says, this time with meaning. “It is remarkable how slowly you caught on to just how fascinated I am by you.”

Butterflies explode in Kaveh’s chest. Sighing, he rests his head back down against the sheets and stares at the ceiling. They just did that. He just came. He just let the Prince put his teeth near his mating gland and he trusted Alhaitham not to bite. It’s surreal, unreal, so very much.

“Where do we go from here?” Kaveh asks, unable to stop himself.

“The ball.”

“You know what I mean, Your Majesty.”

Alhaitham shoots him a sharp look.

Laughing, Kaveh smiles and then closes his eyes. “Alhaitham,” he says aloud for the first time to him. It tastes good on his tongue, too.

“We will take it day by day. I’d like you to meet the Queen, as a preliminary step, but otherwise? I do not see a need for labels or roadmaps.”

Kaveh is so endlessly fond of this maniac of a man. “And if it doesn’t work? If you realize you don’t want—”

Alhaitham swoops back towards the bed and places a delicate kiss to Kaveh’s parted lips.

“We have an event to attend.”

The future may not be as easily discerned as the words on a page, on the tales of knights and princes and forbidden love, but Kaveh thinks he prefers it this way.

(Cyno can have his books back—Kaveh’s found his favorite story.

He doesn’t think that’ll change in the future.)

Chapter 2

artwork by the wonderful and amazing boneyhag over on X!

Notes:

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