When Camellias Bloom

Mikasa walked through the endless corridors. The click of her heels flew up to the ceiling, echoing off the stone walls like ringing droplets. She was hurrying to the garden. She wanted to see the unusual flowers. This year, camellias had been brought specially for her mother. Surprised by the changes, the flowers were on the verge of blooming out of season. Her mother would be happy to see them in bloom too. Both the Empress and Mikasa herself were descendants of a powerful clan from a country lying somewhere far beyond the horizon, across the vast, capricious sea. Her mother often told her about the tall, snow-capped mountains, the fields carpeted in velvet grass, the low wooden houses made of paper, and the thickets of bamboo. Mikasa dreamed of visiting there just once, but until she received her official status and came of age, she was forbidden to leave the empire. She wasn't upset. Her parents had left again to establish trade relations with a neighbouring country, and she was left to her own devices. Almost. The heir to the empire's days were filled with study and preparation for ruling a vast country, but when the sun dipped towards the treetops, painting the courtyard in gold, Mikasa was left alone, free to do whatever she pleased. She went to check on the flowers every evening. The buds were swelling, pinkish and delicate, but they still hadn't bloomed. Perhaps today, a miracle would happen? But the flowers weren't the only thing on her mind today. Eren. The name, soft and warm like the rays of the setting sun, warmed her soul. He was due to arrive any day now. Maybe even before her parents returned. She awaited him impatiently. What had he become? Had he changed much? How would he see her now? These restless questions swirled in her head, but Mikasa brushed them away. It was just excitement, the thrill of anticipation. They hadn't seen each other for far too long, that was all. But even that didn't matter, because they were to be betrothed very soon. Sinking deeper into her thoughts, Mikasa frowned. She didn't understand the need for the delay at all. It was clear to everyone that she was an alpha, like her parents, like all the rulers before them. Why wait for the genes to manifest? She would feel much more at ease now if Eren were already promised to her. She worried that while she was waiting, Eren might become interested in someone else. He had never lacked female attention, and many noble ladies would be happy to become part of his famous family tree. Mikasa shook her head. Besides her rather beautiful face, she had another advantage—the imperial throne. And if for no other reason, Eren should remain faithful to her for that. The imperial family had always been different from the unions the people were used to. Their country originated from an ancient lineage of people whose blood differed from the ordinary inhabitants of the local lands. They possessed immense power. Even a hundred people could not match their strength. But, as the legends say, even that was not enough for the ancestors of the ancient clan. They desired to rise higher than the Goddesses themselves and rule over them. Then, angered, the Goddesses cursed them. The proudest were now forced to submit to the will of their own kin, and the most prudent lost their minds, passionately desiring those beneath them. Since those ancient times, people never again dared to measure their strength against the Goddesses, and their desires remained unchanged and ineradicable. Mikasa knew this legend by heart. Many centuries had passed since the punishment fell upon the bodies of the guilty. But they were still paying for their ancestors' sins. Those who were forced to submit, who found pleasure in it, were called omegas. The others, uncontrollable, heated in their senseless pursuit—alphas. But people, although too proud and having desired what was strictly forbidden, had still managed to approach the Goddesses in power. Mikasa's paternal line still possessed incredible strength, and it was this strength that helped them regain control. Since then, it had been established that only alphas could become rulers. Though their temper might be hot, their will was unbending, their convictions unshakable, and the Ackermans successfully suppressed their bodily urges. By choosing alphas as wives and husbands, the clan had achieved balance and prosperity. The secret was simple—alphas were not physically drawn to each other. Cold calculation and the ability to negotiate—that's what had led their country to greatness. Her parents' union was as calm as a deep river. If the rulers' minds were clouded by love affairs, jealousy, real sparks of feeling—they would not be able to govern the country. This was what Mikasa had been taught since childhood, preparing her for the ascension to the throne. Her teachers insisted: it was excellent that in an alpha union there was no place for jealousy, passion, or love. It was as stable as castle walls and as unbreakable as cliffs, forged from generations of people living only for the country, holding together through strength of spirit and loyalty. For Mikasa, who so longed for true love, this sounded disheartening. Yes, such unions turned out to be surprisingly strong, despite all the difficulties, because partners didn't have to adapt to each other's cycles, didn't affect each other's hormones, and could still satisfy those base desires always mentioned in books. But Mikasa devoured novels filled with sensuality, sacrifice, and beauty, hoping that things would be different for her. Her parents weren't blocks of ice, no. They treated each other with great warmth and respect, but they lacked that spark which inevitably ignited between an alpha and an omega when they were near. This same characteristic created a danger for Mikasa. Eren wasn't drawn to her. She knew this perfectly well, and didn't even try to change it. She only hoped that when they walked through life hand in hand, they would find in each other what Mikasa lacked. True love. Not a perfect picture, not a calculation, but feelings, a flutter. Perhaps not as bright as if one of them were an omega, but something, anything, that would let Mikasa know—she truly was the only one for him, and nothing could ever change that. She couldn't hope for complete reciprocity, and certainly not for that rarity, almost another fairy tale—a true mate. But she could allow herself to dream of a slight tremor and warm feelings. The cold corridor seemed endless. Even in mid-summer, a draft blew through the stone walls as if it were autumn. Mikasa rubbed her arms with her hands. She was starting to feel chilly. She quickened her pace. How was Eren? It must be incredibly cold there... In childhood, they spent a lot of time together. Their families were close, and with the tacit approval of both sides, they often visited each other and grew up side by side. Until they were almost sixteen, they both frequently came to visit. But only until it became too risky, and Eren was sent north to study military affairs. The very fact of this was insulting. What were all those advisors thinking? Did they think Eren might lose control around her? Nonsense. It was impossible. Or were they afraid that Mikasa's own gene was undetermined? Soon after his departure, it was announced that Eren was an alpha, which no one doubted, and Mikasa eagerly awaited her own maturity, so her parents could arrange a grand wedding for them and strengthen the families' positions in the empire. Eren was so far away... She worried that nature would eventually take its course and during his ruts he would find some woman and, heaven forbid, fall in love with her. After all, to him, Mikasa was just a childhood friend. But she wanted to believe that their long-distance bond would only strengthen, and that he missed her just as much as she missed him. Mikasa hid the heart fluttering with butterfly-like tender feelings. She told no one how deeply in love she was; otherwise, her parents might find someone else for her. Someone who wouldn't affect her like a lit match thrown into a pile of dry hay. Mikasa was sure her love wouldn't harm the cause. She could only hope that Eren hadn't changed too much during his studies, and that when her time came, her feelings for him wouldn't have cooled. Mikasa was already nineteen, but her body remained blind to nature's signals. It wasn't that Mikasa wasn't worried, but the certainty of her status brought peace and the understanding that everything was predetermined, and the waiting was just part of her path. What had Eren become? She hadn't seen him for three years... A warm breeze stirred her light summer dress. The gentle sun slowly sank below the horizon, stretching the shadows from the gallery columns. The clouds were painted in the colors of southern spices. The garden grew quiet, preparing for the evening twilight. There, a little way off from the garden, the guards were training. About ten men. The clang of metal, the scrape of armor, stirred her. The sight of battle always inspired in Mikasa something between terror and awe, and she froze, watching the dance of the blades. At the far end of the training ground, someone's eyes glinted. Even from a distance, Mikasa recognized the short-statured captain of the guard. He stared at her, completely forgetting propriety, and his look conveyed only one thing—get out. Mikasa shivered again. Despite the warm summer evening, goosebumps ran down her skin. How dare he look at her like that? The guards dropped their swords the instant Levi Ackerman's hand shot up. The clang echoed through the garden, stinging her ears. Mikasa barely managed not to wince. The future empress should not show displeasure. The guards turned to Levi, asked something indistinctly, and when he nodded towards Mikasa, they spun around as if in fright. "Forgive us, Your Highness!" one of the men shouted, dropping to his knees in greeting. The second—tall, stately—immediately followed. But Mikasa caught how his gaze lingered on her. In the evening sun, his eyes gleamed like honey. Jean Kirstein, her night guard, no less. Mikasa descended from the gallery, deciding the flowers could wait a little. She felt like brightening her guards' evening. To spite Levi Ackerman. She enjoyed watching the training sessions, but rarely managed to escape her chain of duties. "You're interrupting," he stated firmly, before Mikasa even reached the training ground. His insolence, his confident tone, threw her off, and she almost turned around and left, but she suppressed the urge. After all, she would be the ruler of a great empire. Not him. And the fact that both her father and Levi belonged to the same clan didn't matter to her. He possessed none of the stateliness and nobility inherent in every true Ackerman. Son of a brothel whore. It's a good thing he's an alpha. That alone helped him rise so high and become captain of the guard. Lucky for him no one remembered his father's name, otherwise the Ackerman clan would never have accepted such a disgrace. "I won't take up much of your time. I just want to watch the training," Mikasa said with a soft smile, despite her irritation. She knew he wouldn't dare to chase her away, even if her presence irritated him to the point of grinding his teeth. As if in answer to her thoughts, the captain's jaw tightened. The guards had already risen, smiling brightly at her, but the captain stepped forward, and their smiles vanished like candles doused with water. "As you were! Back to your stances immediately!" Without a word, they grabbed their weapons, and their bodies, as if detached from their minds, hastened to obey. Mikasa glanced displeasedly at the captain, but he was no longer looking her way. She involuntarily let her gaze rest on him. How could he be so unlike her father? Unlike her? Mikasa shook her head. No use wasting her precious time on him. Better to think of something far more pleasant. Feeling as if she had lost a battle, Mikasa turned, grabbed her light skirts in annoyance, and ascended the steps back into the gallery. If she had learned anything from history lessons, it was that sometimes, to preserve one's dignity, it was better to retreat. Eren was due any day now. Mikasa eagerly awaited the meeting, and that's what she wanted to think about. Not the captain of the guard. She no longer felt like looking at the flowers. She would only hear her men training and think about one thing. Mikasa had disliked the captain from the first moment she saw him. A rude man who barely chose his words couldn't appeal to the young princess. Her father and mother taught her patience, but she could never get used to this captain of the guard. She didn't have to. He did his job, did it well, and that should have been enough. He had appeared at his post suddenly. Mikasa wasn't involved in military affairs, so she wasn't fully aware of what was happening in her empire's army. Apparently, that was a mistake. Word quickly reached her father about one of the Ackermans whose services to his superiors were more than outstanding. His control during ruts, his abilities in battle—were impeccable. It would be a shame to lose such a man, so he was sent to the palace to train the local guard. Her father liked him immediately; besides, the recommendation came from Commander Erwin, whom her father trusted as himself, but with everyone else, he behaved completely inappropriately. And only because of his military merits did her father turn a blind eye to his behavior. At his first meeting with Mikasa, he merely bowed coldly, didn't stop before her, looked her over as if appraising her, and walked past. Mikasa was outraged. She still remembered shouting at his back: "You should stop when the heir is speaking to you." She put all the pride she possessed into her voice. "I answer only to the Emperor and his Consort," he had replied then, without even turning around. Mikasa immediately rushed to tell her father, but he paid it no mind. He only said that the captain did indeed answer only to the Emperor and Empress, and there was nothing strange about that, as they were the ones he was primarily meant to protect. Mikasa was angry, but couldn't do anything about it. She thought she would get used to him over time, but time passed, and the captain remained just as rude and cold towards her. If only he would soften towards her even a little, then she wouldn't hold a grudge. Once, even swallowing her pride, she asked him to help Eren, to train him before he entered the academy, but he just smirked, humiliating both her and Eren in front of the entire court. He said he would find it a personal insult to train a brat who couldn't even ask for it himself. The way he looked at her then—like she was nothing—was unforgivable. Mikasa, accustomed to diplomacy, simply couldn't understand it, and deep down she asked herself again and again—why? What a pity that this man was truly good at his job, and simply kicking him out of the palace was out of the question. Over time, she learned to respond to his disrespect with a smile. There was nothing else left for her. One thing haunted her: at their last meeting before Eren left for the military academy, Mikasa lost control and reached for him. She didn't know why herself. Whether she wanted to hug him goodbye, or kiss him... They were in the garden, hidden from prying eyes by rows of elegantly trimmed trees and bushes, but at that very moment, the captain needed to pass by and see it. Her cheeks still flushed every time she remembered that piercing, icy gaze. It was terribly shameful and frightening. Even then, they weren't allowed to be near each other, and certainly couldn't do what Mikasa had intended. She hadn't expected anyone to see them... Because of it, both she and Eren became flustered, and their parting was awkward and hurried. Mikasa was afraid the captain might tell her parents what happened, and then they would definitely find someone else for her. Someone she would be far less drawn to. But luckily for her, he chose to remain silent. If only for that, she continued to tolerate this perpetually dissatisfied, short-statured man. She was, after all, a little grateful to him for not revealing her little secret. Being indebted to him, Mikasa didn't like. Not a day passed when she didn't think about it. If the captain of the guard was smart enough, he would find a way to use this information against her, and with such animosity, someday he surely would. And this delay... Why didn't she feel anything yet? She still had a few years left, but Mikasa couldn't wait. Every day pushed her further from the wedding, from her dream, from Eren. The very thought that he might not restrain himself during his ruts plunged her into unbearable melancholy, and Mikasa preferred simply not to think about it. Her parents would approve neither of her jealousy nor her sorrow. It was a pity Eren didn't belong to the Ackerman clan. He too could learn control, like the captain of the guard. There she was, thinking about him again, Mikasa fumed, quickening her pace. But even she couldn't deny his merits. Rumors reached her that the captain was simply one of those who liked other male alphas, which was why it was so easy for him to be around omegas. The thought was so absurd it would explain such incredible self-control. He just couldn't find another alpha who would submit to him. Mikasa shook her head. Disgusting. Even thinking about it was strange. But be that as it may, it was none of her concern, and his self-control was truly outstanding. At least in that regard, she didn't need to fear him. The last rays of sunlight pierced the clouds like bright spears as Mikasa entered her room. The airy fabrics of the canopies breathed, conducted by the wind. Both maids jumped up from their seats, silently bowed, and when Mikasa waved her hand at them, sat back down, whispering quietly. Mikasa didn't bother them. She didn't feel like talking, and she fell onto the cool silk sheets, waiting for the night. Something was bound to happen. She felt it. And a pleasant anticipation stirred within her. It would happen tonight. Tonight she would find out she was an alpha, and her torment would end. It was hot. The sun no longer blazed as it did during the day; the room had long been in shadow. Mikasa turned onto her back, wiping her forehead with her hand. She'd probably been thinking too much about things that shouldn't concern her right now. She sat up in bed and pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. She needed a bath. The maids helped her undress, opened the doors to the bathhouse, and silently sat back down on the bench. Through the high lancet windows, the sunset's rays filtered in. Crimson light reflected off the calm water's surface, glittering with reflections. Mikasa slowly entered the water. Her body instantly broke out in goosebumps. The water felt cold. Chilly. But once she fully submerged and emerged, her body adjusted, and the heat subsided a little. Mikasa stretched out by the edge of the bath, extending her slender legs, examining her skin, bronze in the evening light. She felt a little better, and she relaxed. It was all that Levi Ackerman's fault. Wearing down her nerves. Her head was spinning slightly. A light breeze now cooled her skin, and Mikasa called the maids over to wash her. Mikasa sat on the edge of the bath, her legs dangling in the cool water, while the maids scrubbed her body, lathered soap into her smooth black hair, then rinsed it with warm water. They dried her with towels and rubbed her down with fragrant oils. Mikasa ran her fingers over her velvety soft skin, much more relaxed and content than before her bath. But the heat was slowly returning, and the oils on her skin felt unpleasantly sticky. The maids were unusually quiet today. Usually chattering away, today they seemed silent. Sasha, who always had something to say, kept yawning, and Mina looked around absently, as if avoiding looking directly at Mikasa. This was starting to irritate her. Usually not missing an opportunity to hear what was happening in the castle and among the servants, today Mikasa didn't want to look at those two any longer and dismissed them. The maids bowed and, with guilty expressions, slipped out the door. What had gotten into everyone around her today? Outside the window, it was getting dark. The first stars began to twinkle in the sky. Outside the door, the guard changed noisily. Mikasa lay spread out on the bed, tormented by the heat. Her nightgown clung to her body; she wanted to tear it off, but Mikasa couldn't allow that. Although she had not yet reached maturity, clothing was another barrier restraining her natural scent. The usually soft fabric of the sheets suddenly felt rough. Mikasa could feel every thread. Something was definitely not right. Was she ill? No. It didn't feel like it. So, her time had come. But why did she feel like this? Mikasa tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Hot. Humid. The light breeze, which usually caressed her skin with coolness, now burned her, like a wave of heat. She was about to order a physician to be called when, suddenly, a spasm tightened her lower abdomen. Mikasa's eyes flew wide open. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. Her heart pounded erratically. Her blood boiled instantly, rushing to her cheeks, then plummeting sharply downwards. No. This simply couldn't be. There was a burning sensation between her legs. She was going into heat. Not a rut. She couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible. Both her parents were alphas. Everyone around her, many palace employees, everyone she had prolonged contact with—were alphas. She was raised to be a leader, she was supposed to marry Eren and become empress after her mother, but it had all crumbled in an instant. No. This was some kind of mistake. Maybe it was a strange kind of rut? But another spasm, a sweet, cloying sensation deep inside, left no chance to attribute this to the quirks of a young body. Between her legs became wet. Another wave of heat washed over her. Damn, damn, damn. There could be no mistake. Her body had betrayed her. It demanded submission to another's will, something absolutely unacceptable for someone like her. If anyone found out, she was finished. She needed to think of something, and fast. This had happened only once in the entire history of her clan, and Mikasa didn't want to think about that woman, who had been immediately sent away from the palace. A physician would have to examine her, confirm the obvious, and act according to protocol. Of course, out of respect for her lineage, she wouldn't be thrown out immediately, but the path to the throne was forever closed to her. She simply could not allow that. Mikasa understood. She needed a partner. Right now. And then, maybe, she could hide this shame. Her parents would return in a few days; they would help her. They would figure something out. At least, Mikasa could hope so. Mikasa was their only child. It wasn't easy for a pair of alphas to conceive, and in the absence of other heirs, perhaps they would find a way to help her. Or at least not disown her the moment they sensed what she was. If Eren saw her like this, he would understand everything immediately. Then his parents... They wouldn't allow them to be together. Their family had long dreamed of the crown. And even if Eren finally developed real feelings for her, she couldn't be sure the betrothal offer wouldn't be withdrawn by his parents that very instant. But if she could just get through this shame quickly... Maybe she could continue to hide her nature. At least until a convenient moment presented itself. What terrible timing! The first heat could be much longer than subsequent ones. Irregular. Unpredictable. Mikasa had read about all this with sadness and sympathy, and now she felt that horror firsthand. She just... she just needed to ask someone to help her. No one would refuse a service to the heir to the throne. How humiliating. Mikasa slid off the bed. The mechanism in her head was spinning at a frantic speed. Only one person came to mind who would be able to keep silent. Who was loyal to her like no other. And, if the Goddesses hadn't completely abandoned her, then outside the door, on guard duty, stood precisely him. "Sir Kirstein!" Mikasa cried out, barely recognizing her own voice. The doors flew open, and a face framed in armor appeared in the gap. "Your Highness? You called?" "Come in quickly! And close the door!" "H-how can I, Your..." "Well, hurry!" Mikasa squeezed her eyes shut. Such weakness washed over her that she nearly collapsed to the floor. Sir Kirstein instantly rushed to her, managing to catch her by the arms. "Holy Maria, what's wrong with you?" He removed his helmet, and his eyes, gleaming with warm honey, looked at her anxiously. With his support, she managed to stay on her feet and now stood close to him, forcing herself to endure just a little longer. "It's nothing. I'm feeling a bit unwell today. And after a hot bath, my head is spinning." "You need to be careful. Shall I send for a physician?" "No, it's not necessary. I'm fine." She pushed him away, and he released her, stepped back, and stood at attention, still looking directly at her. Mikasa was silent, and he became flustered, lowering his gaze. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I shouldn't be in your chambers. How can I assist you? Shall I send for your maids?" "Sir Kirstein, Jean..." Mikasa began, and his breathing instantly quickened. She felt it, despite his whole body being encased in armor. She felt every breath he took, every tiny movement. Jean was a beta, like all the guards. He didn't lose his mind every few months, he didn't need to satisfy the call of nature, he could think clearly, which meant she could reason with him. And most importantly—he couldn't smell her pheromones. He didn't understand what was happening to her. And she had to be careful so he never found out. His eyes involuntarily rose to her. Mikasa knew he wouldn't be able to resist, that he would look at her. She could feel in her skin how his gaze traveled over her, not daring to allow himself more. What he wanted was impossible. If only Mikasa had become an alpha. "Come into the room. And remove your helmet in the presence of the future empress," Mikasa said, and Jean obediently hurried, pulling off the metal covering his face. The echoes of his gaze pulsed in her lower abdomen, and Mikasa turned away. It wasn't time yet. She had to be very, very careful. Even if Jean couldn't scent anything, he would understand from her behavior. She walked over to the lancet window, knowing the light fabric of her gown was translucent, and in the darkness of the approaching night, her silhouette was outlined like a soft shadow. "I've been hesitant to tell you this," she began, "but after I saw you at the training session again..." Mikasa turned so Jean could see her face. "I can't stay silent any longer. I know how wrong this is, but I... I..." She covered her mouth with her hand, as if stopping herself from finishing the sentence. She held his gaze for just a moment, but it seemed Jean understood everything. His face instantly reddened, and he turned away, standing indecisively. Mikasa knew Sir Kirstein was in love with her. He tried to hide it, but she was perceptive enough to understand it quickly. Strictly speaking, her guard should have been changed, but Mikasa thanked the Goddesses that she had never told anyone about her discovery. Besides, who would protect her better than a lovesick guard? Her parents probably knew about it too, but they allowed Jean to serve near Mikasa. And now it was more necessary than ever. One hint, and he was entirely hers. The presence of a man nearby, even a beta, stirred her so much it took her breath away. She tried not to show her suffering, and if she found release soon, she wouldn't suffer so much, and maybe the heat would pass before Eren arrived. "I can't say it, but you understand me, don't you, Jean?" He stood a little way off, still not daring to come closer, and then she took a step forward herself. "Your Highness..." Mikasa approached him, leaned forward; the strap of her light nightgown slipped down. Jean immediately retreated to the door, pressing against it as if Mikasa were a venomous snake bringing only death. "Forgive me, but you cannot say such things." "Why?" She came as close to him as his armor allowed, and timidly reached for his lips. His breath touched her skin like a warm wind. A beta wouldn't be able to smell her scent, his body wouldn't react like an alpha's, but Mikasa knew he couldn't even dream of her, but definitely desired to have her. The armor clanked. Jean raised his hands, touching her shoulders, holding her back so she couldn't reach his lips. His hands in their heavy gloves trembled so much that Mikasa felt it through the thick fabric. How could her guard be so indecisive? Impatience grew; she wanted to give in quickly, and Mikasa froze, frightened by her own feelings. She shouldn't want this at all. But nature, her body, reminded her again of the terrible mistake. "I must be dreaming..." Jean whispered. He didn't even dare look at her, turning his face away, still holding her firmly. She couldn't wait any longer. While Jean hesitated, precious time was slipping away. When the next wave would hit—Mikasa couldn't know. She had to act more decisively. "Not at all. Send the other guard away on some errand and come to bed." Mikasa stepped back, and Jean released his hold, letting her go. Mikasa moved away, retreating towards the bed made up with soft silk. Shameful. Her own words burned her cheeks, but she was determined. The distance between them suddenly seemed endless. She wanted to press against Jean immediately, to stop thinking about what was happening to her, to get rid of this animalistic, uncharacteristic desire. She disgusted herself. But Jean didn't follow her. "Are you alright?" His voice, full of concern, made Mikasa even more anxious. What if it didn't work? "Of course. Don't pretend you don't understand, Jean. I saw how you looked at me during the training..." She didn't get to finish her thought; he interrupted, his words tumbling out as if in haste: "Forgive me. It will never happen again. If this is a way to punish me, then I admit, it's very elaborate." "Stop it. You were much bolder this evening when you looked at me in the garden." "I..." "What are you afraid of?" Mikasa interrupted him. "That this is a dream." Mikasa pressed her lips together. She was playing with a man who genuinely felt something pure for her. She intended to use him. Could she make such a deal with her conscience? But wasn't this what she had been taught all along? That one must make sacrifices for the good of one's people? In the end, Jean would get what would otherwise be impossible. Maybe it wasn't so bad. "Who's outside the door? Sir Springer? Tell him to fetch Sasha. She's sleeping so soundly that by the time he wakes her and brings her here, you'll be standing at the door as you should. We'll have enough time." Mikasa reached out her hands to him, and Jean hesitated, not daring to fall into her embrace. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding that one spot where she stood, and even this Mikasa might have considered an insult, but now was not the time for foolishness. She could see the battle between his body and his mind. "What are you waiting for?" she said softly, not believing herself that she could speak so sweetly and casually, as if seducing a man into bed cost her nothing. Jean finally looked at her, and amber sparks glinted in his eyes. Just like in the garden. He was caught. Hesitating for another moment, he finally gave in, obediently came closer, cautiously reaching his hands out towards her. Mikasa drew him to her. The cold of his armor cooled her fevered skin, and Mikasa anticipated the moment he would shed it, and she could finally touch the longed-for body. She pulled him towards the bed, despite her cheeks burning with shame. This was not at all how she had imagined her first night with a man, and certainly she never thought that man would be her guard. It was terrible to offer herself like a girl from a pleasure house, but she had no other choice. Jean happened to be nearby. He wouldn't ask unnecessary questions. Mikasa knew he worshipped her. Jean stepped forward uncertainly, hurrying to meet her. His gaze wandered over her body, returning to her face, to her lips, and Mikasa saw the gleam of lust, a spark kindled without effort. She reached for his lips, but they didn't make it to the bed. Another spasm, stronger than before, twisted her insides, and with a moan, she hung on the guard's arms. Jean held her up, stopping. She pressed closer to him, wanting to push through the armor and finally reach warm, soft skin. She reached her hand towards his face, but Jean took her hand in his, not allowing the touch. "Oh Goddess, you... Are you in... in heat?" Her heart plummeted. That dirty word, unworthy of a future empress, stung her ears. Uttering such a thing in the presence of a member of the imperial family was a grave insult. But Jean had hit the mark exactly. His look spoke louder than any words. Part fear, part disgust. He just kept staring, holding her hand in his. 'How perceptive of you,' Mikasa thought indignantly. She had to think quickly how to keep him there. She felt that one careless word, and he would run. "Does that change anything? I don't know how this happened, but what I said is true. I like you. This must stay between us, and then I can be yours. Tonight. Now." Jean was silent for a moment, as if considering her words, and Mikasa prayed to all the Goddesses that he would make the right decision. "Your Highness... I am flattered, but you are not yourself. I cannot. These words are spoken by your body, not your mind. I understand that in any other situation, you wouldn't even glance my way." Mikasa stepped back. How dare he refuse her? She lifted her head, meeting his lost, clouded gaze. He wanted her! Mikasa could see how much he wanted her! "What, you don't want to spend the night with your princess? Don't you dare refuse, Jean." She poured all the tenderness she could offer into his name. She could clearly see his admiration, how he looked at her body, covered only by the translucent fabric. He was holding up well, but with a little pressure, he would crack like a ripe nut. If only he weren't wearing armor... Goddess, how she wanted to touch his body, to feel his hands on her. Mikasa didn't deny herself this impulse; she stepped closer, touching his face with her palm. This time Jean didn't stop her, and hope flickered inside. "I do, of course I do," he said, and Mikasa rose on her tiptoes, reaching for his lips. "You're in no danger," Mikasa whispered, moving her hand higher, into his hair, tangling her fingers in the wheaten silk. So soft, so smooth. Jean leaned into her hand and closed his eyes. A little more and their lips would meet, and this nightmare would end. The warmth of his breath swept across her skin, and his moist lips finally covered hers. For one single moment, her whole body rejoiced, but Jean abruptly pushed her away. Mikasa stared at her own guard in disbelief. His face, crimson with shame, moved away. He looked at her with a hunted expression, his eyes still glinting with desire, but he immediately looked away. Had he rejected her? The future empress? "No. Forgive me, I dare not. You yourself know perfectly well that you wouldn't find a single man in the castle who wouldn't want you. Except maybe those simply incapable of wanting. But this is betrayal. This is high treason. You are vulnerable, I cannot do this, forgive me." Mikasa opened her mouth to object, to hold him back for just a moment longer, sure that Jean would resist no more, but he stretched his arms out in front of him, not letting her approach. Mikasa stood, her mouth open in surprise. Jean was fighting himself. His eyes still gleamed with desire, and he threw her one last look, clenching his teeth tighter. "Jean, none of that matters anymore, just take what you want so much," she said, but that was a mistake. Jean looked at her one last time, pitifully, then squeezed his eyes shut and dashed out the door, slamming it firmly behind him before Mikasa could comprehend what was happening. How dare he... Mikasa lunged for the door, yanking the handle, pushing against the thick wood, but it wouldn't budge. On the other side, Jean was holding the doors firmly. "Lock the door, now," he said to the second guard on the other side, and Mikasa pounded her fists against the wood. "Come back immediately! I command you!" Nothing happened. Silence reigned behind the door. She could almost picture Sir Springer's stunned face and Sir Kirstein's frightened, agitated one. Oh Goddess. What if he went and told someone right now? Her heart pounded wildly. For a moment, her arousal subsided. Mikasa slid down the door, not knowing what to do. For the first time, she had lost control. Nothing depended on her now. "What's going on?" a voice asked cautiously from behind the door, a voice Mikasa unmistakably recognized as Sir Springer's. "Lock it!" Kirstein hissed. "Are you out of your mind?" "Now!" The sound of the key turning in the lock scraped against her heart. Mikasa listened intently. The voices were muffled, and the pounding of her heart against her ribs made it hard to focus. "What's going on?!" Springer exclaimed, and Kirstein shushed him. For a moment, she felt a little better. At least Sir Kirstein didn't want to reveal her situation that very second. But the worry remained. "I... I don't know if I can say yet. Something's wrong with Her Highness." "Then we should send for a doctor! What are we waiting for?" Her heart skipped another beat. Yes. Sir Kirstein should go for a doctor. He would confirm she was an omega, and then her life would be over. Oh Goddess, please, just let him... "No! Absolutely not." She shuddered. All her hope rested on the discretion and loyalty of a single guard. If Kirstein truly loved her, he had to understand what awaited her. He had to pity her, even if it meant sacrificing his name, his service, or even his life for her sake. "What the hell is going on? Is she in... in heat or something?" Mikasa pressed closer to the door. On the other side, everything fell silent again. She waited, holding her breath. Her fate was being decided, and she could do nothing. "No... That can't be..." "Shut up. It's not clear yet. Not a word, understand?" "Jean. So if... We'll be drawn and quartered. We need to report this immediately..." "If they find out I was in there with her, we'll be executed too. Holy Goddesses..." Armor rustled behind the door. Either Kirstein or Springer was pacing the corridor. "Alright, just don't unlock the door. I think I know what to do. And don't listen to Her Highness! You'll thank me later!" "We'll be executed for this!" "I know! But it'll be much worse if you don't lock this damned door and wait until I get back!" "Damn you," the lock clicked again. "But you'll be the one to answer for it." "If it comes to that. I'll be back soon." Mikasa listened to the fading sound of retreating footsteps. The door was still locked. "Your Highness, forgive me, but please understand: if you're in danger, it's the guard's duty to decide how to proceed. Please don't be angry with us, I beg you. You can personally flog us later, but you should have seen Kirstein's face." Mikasa got to her feet. She knew all this perfectly well herself. Her hot face fell into her equally hot hands. Such shame! She knew she was barely holding back from calling out to the other one. Springer. Anyone, just to be rid of this vile, degrading arousal.