"Um...excuse me, but could you buy me some clothes?"

Mircea jumped a foot in the air as a hand poked into his stall from under the partition. "Wah!" he cried as he wobbled, halfway through putting on pants as he was, and fell.

"Sorry," said the voice contritely, as Mircea groaned in pain.

"Just forget it. Who am I buying clothes for?"

"Eh, Ezra Carter."

Well, damn. The rival empire's prince was in the next stall in nothing but his tightey-whiteys. "How long have you been here?" Mircea asked, marveling at the coincidence.

"Three hours. I'm cold."

"What happened?"

"Ex-girlfriend. I'd just stepped out to tell them  my shirt was tight when she snuck in and stole my clothes. When I came back and locked the door, she dumped sour milk on my tux from behind the door."

Mircea only barely managed to turn his laugh into a sympathetic cough. "So your wedding tux is ruined a week before the day," he observed. "I thought I smelled something."

"So...will you help me? They gave me wet wipes to wipe myself down, but I'm still sticky. And it really is cold."

"Well, I'm your groomsman, am I not?" Mircea plucked the bundle of notes from Ezra's hand. "It's my duty."

"Thank you so much. I think we're the same size, though I might need a greater-"

"A greater leg length, I know," said Mircea sourly, opening the door. "I have short legs. Don't remind me." He paused. "How can you be sure I will come back?"

A soft chuckle - one Mircea felt was a little too familiar - issued from the neighboring cubicle. "I'll meet you at the wedding anyway," he replied. "Unless you plan to skip it and break my bride's heart?"

"I don't think she cares, but the press will certainly be heartbroken. They've been in a tizzy since they found out she managed to convince me to become a groomsman."

Another soft chuckle. Mircea could've sworn he'd heard it somewhere. "Yes, a Quartz groomsman at a Carter wedding. My mother genuinely fainted."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Mircea in farewell, and left.

The proposal had been presented. Now, all he could do was wait and concentrate on the next, more dangerous task at hand: the wedding of Ezra Carter.

A lot could go wrong there. It was controversial enough that a Quartz was even setting foot in a Carter wedding. The tabloids had been nice enough to inform Mircea in big, bold, neon-bright letters that the two families had not participated in each others' ceremonies even once in their long, long history. But then Mircea had gone and secured a spot in the wedding party of the "archenemy prince," and the world seemed to have turned upside down. Somehow, he had to navigate the high-profile, star-studded wedding without offending both the Quartz and Carter factions. With the media covering the event down to the smallest flower petal, he'd go down in history (and not in a good way) if he so much as breathed in the wrong direction.

"This must be what it feels like to cross a chasm on a tightrope," he mumbled.

Ezra Carter was a tall, gangly fellow, brown-haired, brown-eyed, with porcelain skin scattered with freckles and a gentle, smiling mien. "Thank you," he said to Mircea as the two of them walked out of the boutique. "If I may say so, I was starting to worry you really weren't coming back."

"And why would I do that? I have nothing against you."

Ezra grinned. "We're supposed to hate each other's guts just because we're us, you know," he reminded. "And -" Ezra lowered his head, ashamed - "in following my father's directions, I may have done something to hurt you. I don't know."

"I'm aware," said Mircea. "We're both the eldest sons of megalomaniacs. For our own sakes, we can't say no-"

"Oh, no."

They were in the parking lot by now. Only two cars stood there: two Phantoms, one black and one grey, the former with its tyres slashed, fuel line cut, and the most horrific scars a car had ever suffered because of a key.

"Even the Devil won't take this one," Mircea remarked, dragging the thunderstruck Ezra with him. "What did you do to her, man?"

"Dumped her because my stupid old man went and got me engaged without my knowledge," Ezra replied, his voice shaking.

"Come on, I'll take you home. Let's make some more people faint today."
*
"So was she always a psycho, or did the breakup push her off the rails?"

Ezra gave him an odd look. Mircea shrugged. "She vandalized a Phantom," he explained. "That's a lot of anger."

"She probably went off the rails," Ezra answered with a sigh. "I understand. We had been dating since freshman year of high school. She's a Beta and my father's the most sexist bastard on the planet, so we kept it a secret."

"Oh, wow." Mircea kicked himself for having the prejudice that Ezra stuck to high-maintenance Alphas, just like him. But then again, he himself had never borne that kind of preference: he'd only been that way to meet others' expectations. And what right had he to be surprised, when he seemed to be so taken by an omega male, which was apparently as low as he could fall? "I'm surprised you didn't marry her."

Ezra clenched his hands in his lap, and his gentle aura fell away to reveal a man in extreme anguish. "You're not thinking far enough. We dated for over twenty years, Mircea. We have two boys together."

"Oh, shit!"

"Leaving them was the most difficult decision I've had to make." Ezra took off his glasses and rubbed his wet eyes. "I could have resisted my father's decision. I could have told him I was already committed to someone else. But the repercussions would have been...hellish." Ezra turned weary, broken eyes on Mircea. "If I had resisted, father would have stripped me of everything, which wouldn't matter if I weren't using that money and power to protect my family. And what Father would've put them through after that...it makes the pain of my leaving them feel like a pinprick."

Mircea felt unease pool in the pit of his stomach. He knew what Ezra was talking about. His own father was much, much worse: Quartz senior's hatred was more dispersed, including anyone who didn't toe his lines, and more potent. Mircea could easily name a dozen people who had killed themselves because of his father. "Maybe...you shouldn't have gone that far with your ex," he said slowly, hesitantly. "You knew this day would come. If you'd left earlier, wouldn't it have hurt less?"

Ezra, to Mircea's surprise, didn't take offence. "I see you're yet to fall in love," he said. "You'll see. One day, you will find someone who will make you feel like you've been reborn. Like you didn't know color until you met them. Like you'd never known your heartbeat until you met them. You will want to be with them, no matter how high the cost. I am paying that cost now, Mircea. And while I feel like I've been impaled through the heart, I don't regret a single second I've spent with her."

"Will your kids understand this? That you left to protect them, not because you don't care?"

"My fifteen-year-old does. The younger one...I hope he will too, eventually. I plan to be there for all their big moments: birthdays, matches, graduation..."

"And how do you plan to do that with Maya in the picture?"

A bitter smile spread across Ezra's face. "I'm going to cheat," he said. "I'll become that two-timing son of a bitch who has a whole second family on the side."

Mircea looked the older Alpha up and down with a heavily skeptical eye. The man looked about as much of an asshole as a newborn kitten. Ezra began to laugh in response, but it quickly faded to be replaced with a sad, shaky sigh. "Going against my father is not an option. Remember this, Mircea Quartz, and remember it well: a prince is nothing but a puppet bound by golden strings, and everything that makes him prince ultimately belongs to the King."
*
This wedding just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Four days before the wedding, and he was at the flower shop dealing with a flower emergency. He didn't know the first thing about flowers, yet here he was, trying to convey to the florist that the bride had been betrayed because the flowers were teal and not peacock blue.

"I really don't see how they're teal," said the poor florist, who had already received a blasting from Maya on the phone and was close to tears.

"Neither can I," said Mircea commiseratingly, staring at the pictures of the flowers the horticulturist had sent. "I had to be told five times and ultimately memorized the correct color as the swatch on the right."

"I'd order new ones, but they'd never get here in time."

"You know what, send the current batch. I'll ask everyone to pretend they're a new lot and say that they're definitely blue."

"Peacock! Peacock blue!"

"Right, right. Just give me a bogus receipt - Maya never pays for anything, so she doesn't know what a real bill looks like."

Mircea wandered deeper into the shop as the relieved florist complied. Potted plants with brightly colored flowers in full bloom were arranged in neat rows. It reminded him of the multitude of flowers in his new favorite cafe. He'd often seen that omega lovingly tending to them between customers. "Would he like one as a present?" he wondered aloud.

"Sure, as long as they're not in a bouquet."

Mircea whipped around. "Thief!" he gasped. "Why are you here?"

The omega laughed. "So you really were thinking about me," he observed. "I like the sound of that."

His hair was loose today, the fierce bronze popping against his pale skin and making it hard for Mircea to focus anywhere except his neck. "Strange place to meet," said the Alpha, tearing his eyes away from that graceful arch. "Buying someone flowers, huh? Who's the special person?"

"Nobody. Right now, you're as special as it gets."

"Well, thank you." Mircea jokingly took the large calla from Thief's hands and stuck it in his pocket. "You finally won my heart, you knave. You can have my hand in marriage."

"I am not marrying you!" Thief choked between bouts of laughter. "And give me that, it's for a pissed off bride-to-be."

"Eh?"

"I'm helping someone calm his fiancée. Give me that, would you?"

"But where's mine, then?" Mircea pouted, complying. "Funny - I'm here for a wedding emergency too. Who's the poor fellow?"

Hurt flooded Thief's face only to be masked the next second. Words rose to his lips, but he bit them back and gave Mircea a long, thoughtful look before answering. "My employer's son," he answered.

"Really? Hey, does that mean you're here for the Carter wedding?"

For some reason, Thief's face drained of all color and he looked away, uncomfortable. "Hey, what's wrong?" Mircea asked, placing his hands on Thief's shoulders. Thief flinched and stepped out of reach, wrapping his arms around himself. Mircea stared, surprised, before boiling anger flooded his features. "Did they do something to you?" he growled.

"What do you mean?"

"You work for the Carters, don't you? Did they harass you? Touch you? Hurt you?"

"What? No! No, I...please, just drop it."

"No." Mircea ducked his head down so he could trap Thief's eyes in his gaze. "Tell me."

Thief flinched again, trapped. The penetrating stare of those striking blue eyes was infamous for making its victims feel like they were absolutely transparent. It made one feel like hiding the truth was pointless, because those eyes knew everything anyway. "Yes," he relented, slouching in defeat. "Yes, I work for them. Yes, they have hurt me. But not through harassment or anything."

It was clear enough that he wouldn't reveal any more than that. It wasn't Mircea's place to know all of it anyway, and that bothered him. "Hey, will you be working at the wedding?" he asked.

"...no."

"I'm a groomsman, so I'll be in attendance. Will you be my date?"

Thief dropped his flower in shock. Whether it was at Mircea's being a groomsman or at being asked out, Mircea couldn't tell. "Aw, be careful," he said, stooping to retrieve the flower.

"I can never be your anything. I've told you multiple times."

"What you are to me is for me to decide, Thief." Mircea, still on one knee, held out the flower to the omega with a shy, hopeful smile. "I really want to dance with you again."

"You have no idea how much I want to say yes."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I will destroy you. I am the most toxic vice you can ever have, wrapped in a pretty, well-scented package. Don't let my beauty deter you from that, Mircea Quartz."

"No, that is how others see you." Pulling out an envelope out of the inner jacket pocket, he held it out to the omega. "But I have definitive proof they are wrong."

"What is that?" Curiosity overwhelming caution, Thief took the envelope. "Zeika, Inc....huh? It's open."

"Read it."

"Dear Mr. Quartz, after careful consideration, we have decided that your tender number EA23...you got it!"

Mircea grinned. "That's right, baby!"

"You got the contract! They're going to pay you...oh my God, how many digits is that?!"

The genuine happiness on Thief's face filled Mircea's heart with a warmth like no other. "I could do it...thanks to you."

"Me? Ah, they've sent a few modifications they want - wait, this isn't what you were doing the other day."

"Yeah. It's not my plan we presented. This was drawn up by a team of junior engineers. The department as a whole chose this one as best, and they were right." Mircea stood up and took both of Thief's hands in his own. "You were the one who pushed me when I was at my lowest. You reminded me why I was working so hard. I didn't even realize when I developed an ego big enough to think only I could bring Lemaile out of its crisis. Then you reminded me the value of a dream, and it made me realize that there are others who will give their all to save their own dreams too. It was really humbling. I harnessed every drop of talent in that building, and here I am now, past my worst nightmare."

"I didn't do much." Thief turned his face away, though the smile on it was impossible to hide.

"You have no idea how much your encouragement meant to me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had the courage to try for this contract at all." The omega squawked as Mircea tugged him closer. "Vice? Hah," Mircea whispered, grazing his lips over the omega's hands. "You are a godsend. And if this godsend comes in the body of an omega, so be it."

"Were you always this liberal?"

"No. But I can't hold on to prejudice in the face of obvious fact, can I? What reason do I have to treat you like taboo when you are a good, smart man earning an honest living?"

"I wish everyone thought like you do." Touched, Thief freed a hand to stroke Mircea's cheek. "I am so glad I came down to watch you that night."

"I am too. So come with me, Thief. You have no reason to hide away in shame."

"It's not shame. It's fear." Mircea opened his mouth to argue, but Thief placed a finger on the latter's lips to shush him. "But I do want that dance, and we have a reason to celebrate." After a moment of thought, he pulled out a bill and scrawled an address on it. "Meet me here tomorrow. Six o'clock."

"Celebration, huh?" Mircea took the note and pulled him back into his arms. "Do I get a gift?"

"What do you want?"

"Your name. I want your name."