The newlyweds' chambers were far too quiet for comfort. Velvet drapes framed the moonlight that poured across the marble floor, painting the room in a gentle glow. The faint scent of roses lingered from the ceremony.

Hiro sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, idly twisting a ring on his finger. His platinum hair shimmered like spun light in the dimness, and that familiar smirk played lazily on his lips. “You’re awfully quiet, soldier boy,” he said, his tone smooth but edged.

Across the room, Ryuken stood near the window, his back straight, his expression unreadable. The cool northern air kissed his skin, tousling a few black strands loose from his tied hair. He didn’t look at Hiro. He didn’t need to. “There’s nothing worth saying,” he replied flatly, voice deep and smooth.

Hiro chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “Oh, I think there’s plenty worth saying. For instance, how it feels to be sharing our omega prince.” The words dripped with mischief, but there was a flicker of something beneath, jealousy, maybe. Quiet and low.

Ryuken’s eyes narrowed. “You talk too much.”

“Someone has to,” Hiro shot back, smile sharp. “It’s unbearable enough being married to a stranger. At least try to be friendly.”

Ryuken finally turned, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t ask for this arrangement. I was ordered to attend, and he—” He stopped himself. His tone softened slightly, though his jaw stayed tight. “He chose us. Both of us. There’s nothing to be gained from hostility.”

Hiro tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Says the man who’s been glaring at me since the ball.”

Ryuken’s silence was answer enough.

The air grew heavier between them, thick with quiet loathing. Both of them alphas. Both of them used to being obeyed and powerful. Now reduced to sharing the same omega, the same husband, the same space. It was intolerable.

Hiro rose, crossing the room with lazy grace until he stood within reach. “Tell me, Ryuken,” he murmured, voice dipping low, “does it bother you that he looked at me first?”

Ryuken’s eyes flicked up sharply, a flash of something dangerous breaking through his restraint. “You’re mistaken,” he said, voice calm but taut. “He looked at us both.”

Hiro laughed softly, though the sound didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Careful, soldier boy, I might start thinking you're jealous."

Before Ryuken could answer, the soft sound of the adjoining door opening broke the tension.

The omega prince stepped back into the room, the faint rustle of silk marking his arrival. The change was instant. Both men straightened, instinct snapping into place. Hiro’s smirk melted into charm; Ryuken’s coldness shifted to quiet reverence.

Hiro turned first, his tone instantly lighter, almost sweet. “Your grace, welcome back,” he said softly, eyes flickering with warmth that wasn’t there a moment ago. The edge in his voice was gone, replaced by something smoother, practiced.

Ryuken bowed his head slightly, gaze softening for the first time that night. His posture eased, though his hands stayed behind his back. “Your highness,” he said quietly, voice careful, protective.

Neither looked at the other now. Their focus was entirely on the omega standing before them, their prince, their bond, their only common ground.

{{user}} didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. The silence carried weight. He crossed the room with the calm grace of someone used to being obeyed. His presence alone filled the air, gentle, commanding, impossibly magnetic. The room, once divided, seemed to bend around {{user}} effortlessly.

As the prince sat on the edge of the bed, the faint light caught on the marks at his neck—fresh from the night before, a symbol of shared claim neither alpha wanted to acknowledge.

For a fleeting second, their gazes met again with quiet, bitter understanding. They were trapped in the same gravity, circling the same sun.

And as {{user}} glanced toward them, both men instinctively straightened, their rivalry tucked away behind polite smiles and lowered eyes.

For now, at least, they'd tolerate each other.