Prince Alexander stands in the steam-filled bath chamber, the water lapping gently against his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the warmth relaxes his weary muscles. But his mind is far from at ease.
Thoughts and emotions swirl through his head like a storm: the impending banquet, the suitors who will be assembled in the great hall, and one face in particular that had been plaguing his dreams for months now. Sebastian.
***
As he washes his skin, his fingers trail over the pale expanse of his chest, pausing just for a moment over the pounding of his heart. He can almost feel the heat of a phantom touch lingering there, an echo of desire from his dreams.
"It's just a dream," he whispers to himself, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down his spine. "It doesn't mean anything."
But deep down, he isn't so sure. The dreams are getting more frequent, more vivid. And tonight, something feels different.
Despite his attempts to calm his racing thoughts, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the dreams. The sensation of that unknown touch, the sound of an unfamiliar voice, the whispered name on his lips... It feels so real, so tangible. It makes his heart ache with a need he can't explain.
He sinks deeper into the bath, the water slipping over his shoulders like a caress. But the thought of Sebastian, that distant stranger, refuses to leave him.
"What is happening to me?" he mutters under his breath.
Just then, a soft knock echoes at the chamber door.
"Your Highness," comes the muffled voice of his attendant. "The council awaits your presence. The guests have begun to arrive."
Alexander exhales sharply, water rippling around him as he pushes himself up. He reaches for the towel draped over the marble bench, wrapping it around his waist with steady hands—though inside, everything trembles.
*Tonight.*
The word pulses through him like a drumbeat. Tonight is when all those kings and princes will gather under one roof… all seeking *him*. And among them
He dares not even think Sebastian's name out loud.
But he knows one thing as he stares into the fogged mirror: no amount of royal decorum will hide what his body already knows.
Someone has already claimed him in dreams…
And soon… they might in truth too.
Alexander takes a deep breath, meeting his reflection's gaze. "Get yourself together," he murmurs. A pause, then: "And for gods' sake... do something about your hair."
He runs a hand through the damp waves falling into his eyes--and nearly groans. He looks like a love-lorn prince in some romantic fairy tale.
With a sigh, he turns away. Time to face what the evening brings.
With the towel wrapped around his waist, he steps out of the bath chamber. His attendant waits there, holding out a robe for him to slip on.
"Thank you," Alexander murmurs, shrugging into the garment. He takes a moment to run a comb through his still-damp locks, though it hardly makes much difference. He just hopes his bedhead isn't too obvious.
Once he's decent, he nods to his attendant. "Let's go."
The halls of the castle are a flurry of activity as servants scurry about, preparing the great hall for the evening's festivities. But despite the chaos, all activity ceases as soon as Prince Alexander appears.
Guards snap to attention; servants bow low and whisper amongst themselves. Alexander keeps his face carefully blank, pretending not to hear the murmured speculations.
"Is he… blushing?"
"Looks more like he had a romantic afternoon."
"Gods, he looks gorgeous like that—"
Alexander grits his teeth. *Gods give him strength.* Every whisper feels like a pin pricking his skin. He wants to snap at them, tell them he's not some love-lorn fool, that he's perfectly capable of being a proper prince.
But the words catch in his throat. Because there's a part of him… a part he's refused to admit even to himself until now… that can't deny the truth in those hushed comments.
He feels a flush creeping up his neck. Damn it all. Is it just the steam from the bath... or something else?
He quickens his pace, ignoring the warmth spreading beneath his skin. The royal chambers loom ahead—where his ceremonial attire waits, stiff with gold thread and expectation.
His attendant trails behind, voice hushed. "Your Highness… the crown has been prepared."
Alexander pauses at the door. *The crown.* Not just a symbol of royalty—but tonight, it would mark him as *unclaimed*. A prize to be won.
He closes his eyes for a heartbeat. Just one more night before everything changes.
Then he steps inside—only to freeze in place.
On the velvet stand beside his robes… rests not one crown…
But two.
The second—dark silver, etched with raven sigils—is unfamiliar.
Impossible.
Because he's seen it before…
In dreams that weren't dreams at all.
Alexander strides forward, stopping just before the crowns. His finger reaches out, almost of its own accord, to brush over the cool silver. The metal feels oddly warm under his touch. Familiar.
His mind races, trying to make sense of it all. He hasn't even *seen* this crown before, let alone dreamt of it. Could this all be a cruel jape?
But it feels... real.
His fingers trace the intricate raven sigils, the edges as sharp as if they've been carved by memory.
*This can't be.*
Alexander stares down at the twin crowns, torn between skepticism and unease. How could this be here, now? He hasn't told anyone about the dreams—hasn't even tried to find a logical explanation for them. And yet, here's proof of their existence.
*A coincidence,* he tries to tell himself. *Just a strange joke.*
But even as the thought forms, he knows it's not true. Every instinct screams that this is no accident.
He looks up, his gaze darting around the room. *Is someone watching...?*
There's no one else in sight. Of course not. Servants wouldn't dare to enter here unannounced. The door is even still closed.
But still…
Alexander can't shake the feeling that he's being observed, watched with sharp eyes even now. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
His gaze returns to the crown—dark silver, carved with those familiar raven sigils. For an instant... it almost looks like they're pulsating.
His breath catches. *Impossible...*
Alexander blinks, shaking off the impossible thought. The sigils have gone still again. Of course they have. Silver carvings don't *pulse.* It must be a trick of the light.
Even as he reasons with himself, his heart continues to beat hard against his ribs. He can't explain this away.
And something else nags at him, like an instinct he can't quite ignore.
There's a reason this second crown has appeared now. It… it almost seems to be waiting for him.
Another shiver runs down his spine. If he didn't know better…
But, no. He's just imagining things. His dreams have him grasping at shadows like a desperate fool. This is just a strange coincidence. It has to be.
"No, no, no," he mutters, half to himself. "This isn't real."
But even as he denies it, his hand is already reaching out towards the dark silver crown. Almost… almost as if drawn by an invisible string.
The metal is cool and smooth beneath his fingers. And as soon as his skin makes contact, a jolt of electricity shoots up his arm. He gasps aloud, his breath catching. It feels too real—too *right*.
He shouldn't be doing this. This is madness. Even as sense tells him to put it back, something else whispers in his mind to keep it. To put it on.
"No," he whispers. "I won't."
But even as he says it, there's a part of him…
That *wants* to.
His fingers tremble around the crown. One second more—and his grip tightens, not pulling away, but holding on.
A voice cuts through the silence like winter wind.
"Touch it again," a low voice says from behind him, "and you'll have no choice but to claim what it means."
Alexander whirls around.
There, in the doorway—tall, cloaked in midnight-blue velvet lined with silver thread—is Prince Sebastian of Ravenwood.
His eyes are sharp. Cold. Yet burning beneath that ice with something Alexander knows too well—
Because he's seen them in every dream.
*He was real.*
And he's been watching him all along.
***
Alexander stands frozen, breath caught in his throat. The crown slips from his fingers—but doesn't fall. Sebastian catches it with one gloved hand, slow and deliberate.
"I told you," Sebastian says, voice low like thunder under stone. "You'd be mine."
Alexander's pulse roars in his ears.
"You—" His voice cracks. He swallows hard. "You're *him*. From the dreams… How?"
Sebastian steps forward once.
Then again.
The room shrinks between them.
"We were bound before we met," Sebastian murmurs, eyes never leaving Alexander's. "Before crowns, before names… before choice." A pause—loaded as a threat or a vow he doesn't finish: *But I've made my choice.*
And just like that—the dreams make sense.
Not visions.
*Memories.*
Of something waking between them...
And tonight?
It will finally catch up to the real world.
***
If the air before was charged, now it's a storm. They're barely a foot apart. Sebastian still holds the crown, his grip almost possessive.
"How..." is all Alexander can manage, though a dozen other questions crowd his mind, clamoring for escape.
"How did you get in here?"
"Why now?"
"What do you want?"
"How can this be happening?"
But before he can voice a single one, Sebastian takes another step forward.
Sebastian doesn't answer. Instead, he lifts his free hand—ungloved now—and slowly, deliberately, traces a single finger down Alexander's jaw.
Alexander shivers.
It's the same touch from his dreams. The exact pressure. The exact path.
"You feel it too," Sebastian murmurs, not a question but quiet certainty. "That pull. That *knowing*. It wasn't magic that brought us together in your sleep."
He leans in—just slightly—so his voice brushes Alexander's ear like a secret meant only for him:
"It was *fate*. And I've been chasing you across lifetimes to make sure this time… you don't run."
Then he steps back.
The distance returns—but the heat between them doesn't fade.
Outside, the horns sound.
The banquet has begun.
Sebastian tilts his head toward the door, silver raven crown still in hand.
"Your guests await their prince," he says softly. "But remember this before you take your seat…"
His eyes darken with something fierce and final:
*"You were never choosing an Alpha tonight."*
A pause.
*"You were waiting for me."*
It's like a spell. Alexander can't find his words—can't seem to take his eyes off Sebastian's.
*This* was why he dreamed of the man whose face he never knew. A man who now stood before him, impossibly real.
But the horns still toll—the hall still full of guests—and the crown still rests in Sebastian's hand. Alexander's heart races. Not from nerves, or excitement, or even fear. This time…
It's anticipation.
A knock on the door interrupts them—the soft knock of the attendant. "Your Highness?"
The sound snaps Alexander out of it. He blinks, the moment shattering like glass. He's supposed to be at the banquet, entertaining the potential Alphas who've gathered.
But how can he think of that now... when the man from his dreams is standing beside him, the crown still in his hands…?
"Your Highness," the attendant repeats—more urgently this time. "It's time."
Alexander closes his eyes just for an instant, trying to pull his thoughts together.
It didn't work.
His gaze returns to Sebastian, standing with that quiet strength, his expression unreadable. It's as if he was waiting for this all along—for tonight, for the banquet, for…
Alexander shakes that thought away. It doesn't matter what Sebastian wants. He's not the one facing a room full of suitors, choosing a mate he has no interest in.
"I'm coming," he calls back to the attendant.
The attendant's footsteps fade into the distance, leaving the room quiet once more. For a moment, both Alexander and Sebastian are silent, each watching the other.
Alexander can't guess what he's thinking—if he's even feeling anything at all.
Another horn sounds, reminding them both of the evening ahead.
Alexander straightens his spine. "I have to go."
Sebastian doesn't move. Doesn't blink. "Then go." His voice is calm, almost cold—but there's something beneath it. A quiet challenge. *You know the truth now. Run if you want to.*
Alexander takes a step toward the door—then stops.
He turns back.
"You say I was never meant to choose tonight," he says, voice low but steady. "Then tell me—what happens when I walk into that hall and see you seated among them? When every prince bows and speaks of alliance… but I can only feel *you* watching me?"
Sebastian's lips part—just slightly—as if caught off guard.
For the first time, the mask cracks.
And in that split second, Alexander sees it: hunger. Needing him as much as he needs Sebastian… even if he won't admit it.
"You'll do what your body already knows," Sebastian whispers back, stepping closer again until only a breath separates them once more—
"*You'll look for me.* And when our eyes meet… you won't be able to pretend."
Another pause.
Then:
"I'll be waiting."