@hollanovmicrofic / Prompt: Quiet (June n° 6) / word count: 1190
hollanov - medieval - omega shane - knight ilya – omegas are treasured
It was Ilya’s last day in that house. He knew it.
The preparations had already been made, and at dawn, he would leave the domains of House Hollander to officially begin his training as a knight.
It still felt strange to think about.
For years, it had been nothing more than a distant dream. The kind of dream men like him weren’t supposed to have.
Ilya was fortunate. People like him usually never achieved anything beyond hard labor in the fields; yet, by a stroke of fate, he had been given a chance.
Lord Hollander himself had personally recommended him for the knighthood.
Knights were no mere soldiers. They trained meticulously to represent the Great Houses.
They possessed prestige, honor, and respect.
Perhaps, if he proved himself worthy, he might return to House Hollander one day to occupy an important position. Perhaps as a captain or even a commander. And, if he saved his earnings for years on end, perhaps he might even manage to buy a small patch of land. He would build a simple house (a bit crooked, a bit rough-hewn) but his own.
But now, for the first time, it was not impossible.
Still, every time he reminded himself that this would be his final night in the manor, he felt a slow tightening in his chest.
Ilya knew he ought to feel grateful. He ought to be happy.
He gazed at the moonlight through the narrow bedroom window, listening to the stillness of the night as the silvery glow passed through the old glass, casting soft shadows across the room.
Then, he heard a sound in the distance. Soft footsteps moving down the corridor.
Ilya turned his face just slightly as he heard a hesitant knock at the door. Before he could even answer, the door opened slowly.
Shane appeared, holding a small candle in a bronze holder. The flame partially illuminated his face, making shadows dance across his weary features. He wore simple clothes, and his fingers fidgeted nervously around the base of the holder as he searched for Ilya with his eyes.
When he found him near the window, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“There you are,” he murmured. His voice came out low.
“Is everything alright?” Ilya asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Ilya watched as Shane entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him, as if afraid someone might overhear them. Shane walked over to the small wooden table beside the bed and set the candle down. The flame flickered slightly with the movement, casting a golden glow across the dark room.
Shane opened his mouth to answer but hesitated.
“Yes, I...” He looked away for a moment and rubbed his fingers together nervously. “I just...” He took a deep breath before turning to face him again. “...wanted to talk to you.”
For a few seconds, he simply stood there by the table, clearly trying to muster his courage. Then he began to walk toward Ilya.
Hesitantly at first. Then more decisively.
The old floorboards creaked softly beneath his steps as he approached, stopping right in front of him. Close enough that Ilya could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, despite the cold of the night.
“I wanted to...” Shane began again. The sentence died before he could finish it.
He let out a trembling sigh, then slowly reached out his hand, his fingers seeking Ilya’s almost by instinct. It was an old gesture between them. Familiar. Shane had done it since childhood—holding Ilya’s hand whenever he was nervous, frightened, or simply wanted to be close to him.
Shane’s fingers closed carefully around his. “I wanted to say that…” His voice faltered again. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself to leap from an invisible precipice. “I…”
Outside, the night wind whistled through the castle walls, causing the heavy curtains to sway slowly.
He already knew what Shane was going to say. He knew this day would come.
Ilya pulled his hand away. The movement was swift—abrupt enough to make Shane freeze for an instant.
“No,” Ilya replied immediately.
Shane blinked, caught off guard by the harshness of the tone. The hand that had moments before held his remained suspended in mid-air for a second before slowly dropping to his side.
“Don’t say it.” His voice came out low and firm. Ilya immediately averted his gaze, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at him at that moment. The muscles in his jaw were clenched tight.
Shane watched him in silence.
Then he took another step forward.
“I like you… and I know you like me, too.” Ilya remained motionless. “When we’re together, I…” Shane hesitated again, but this time he didn’t back down. “Last time—when we went to the lake…” A small, sad smile flickered across his face for an instant. “That made me feel like we were something.” He swallowed hard.
The phrase hung in the air.
For an instant, everything went silent.
Ilya ran a hand over his tired face before stepping back a few paces. His boots struck heavily against the old wooden floor as he walked to the other side of the room, creating distance between the two of them.
Shane frowned slightly and took another step toward him. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet.
“But do you want to be? If we could…”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Ilya finally lifted his eyes, and Shane almost wished he hadn’t. Because there was too much emotion there. A raw, messy confusion hidden behind that cold expression Ilya was trying to maintain at all costs.
“Don’t do this,” Ilya murmured. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gave a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think you feel something, but it’s not real. This isn’t real.”
Shane stared at his back for a moment before answering.
“I’m not an idiot.” The answer came out firm. “I’m not a child, Ilya. I can tell when something is real.”
“Shane…” His voice came out hoarse.
“Stop acting like I’m making all this up.” Shane moved closer once again, slowly. “Like it isn’t mutual.”
His jaw clenched. Then he clenched his fist tightly, his fingers digging into his own palm until it hurt.
“Bullshit,” Shane murmured after long seconds of silence between them.
He took another deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady despite his misty eyes.
“I know what I felt.” Shane took another step forward. “I can feel it every time I look at you.” His voice faltered for an instant before he continued. “And I know you feel the same.” His eyes glistened, wet, yet no tears fell. Shane was too proud to let that happen.
“Fine.” He nodded slowly. “If you don’t want this, that’s fine.”
Then he looked away for a brief second, trying to regain his composure before turning to face him again.
The silence between the two felt suffocating.
note: It belongs to the same universe as the micro-fiction "Unworthy" on my profile. Ilya as a knight of House Shane, and Shane as a high-status omega. I’m a bit obsessed with this universe, so don’t be surprised if all this month’s prompts are set in it, haha. Thanks to @pikachusthef for proofreading this gem!
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