Galen had bought two small, empty urns after he and August had eaten the croquembouche. They were sitting inconspicuously on a bookshelf in the library, next to a potted plant and a little abstract figurine. At the moment, they served as a good reminder to him not to be tempted to talk to his parents. Unfortunately, that meant he had very few confidants left, and there was only one whom he felt he could turn to now.

Galen and his older sister had been close as kids, and he’d always admired how smart and serious she was, but they’d gone along different paths as they grew up. She hadn’t liked being the only Beta in a family of Alphas and Omegas, and had worked hard to escape the scrutiny of the nobility and join the ranks of the civil service. Currently, she was busy working as an aid to the Prime Minister. They hadn’t talked much in the last few years, largely because Galen didn’t always appreciate her pragmatism, but now she seemed like the only person who could possibly help him get his head on straight. He got up early the next day to talk to her before she had to go to work.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, sitting upright in his office.

His sister assessed him with shrewd eyes, her neatly cropped hair leaving no room for softness in her face. “Morning. How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m—” Galen smiled and started to say some pleasantries, but his sister cut him off.

“Do you want me to tell you how you’re doing? According to what I’ve heard?”

Galen swallowed and nodded, intimidated once again by her fearless directness. He was a little afraid of what he was going to hear next.

“You’re a sex slave,” She said, “and you’re being used by some sketchy doctor and a scum Alpha for a dubious medical experiment. The Emperor and Empress feel terribly guilty for handing you over to the villains, and parliament is, as we speak, drafting a bill to change your sentence to exile in order to rescue you.”

Galen pinched a lock of hair between his fingers as he listened. As expected, his sister didn’t give him any face and described the situation with painful bluntness. He already knew or had guessed some of what she had said, but he didn’t realize that the process of whitewashing him was so far along. From the sound of it, he could sit on his hands and do absolutely nothing and be freed from his imprisonment by an adoring public. It wouldn’t matter that his punishment was just, and it wouldn’t matter that August had done nothing wrong, either. Even the Empress, who was most directly responsible for this situation, could wash her hands of it easily.

“So,” his sister asked again, “how are you doing.”

Galen sighed and let go of his hair. Since she wanted to get to the point, he would get to the point, too. “August’s not a scum Alpha. And the treatment is working. I’m sick of being a perfect Princess, of being the Empire’s pet Omega. Can’t I just… help someone?” Unfortunately, he found his own words to be slightly unconvincing.

“It’s not a matter of can or can’t, though, is it? Belonging to this Alpha for the rest of his life, is that the kind of trap you’d willingly walk into?” His sister said, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Galen sighed again, resisting the urge to hiss in frustration, and looked up at the ceiling. This was a very uncomfortable conversation to be having. He felt like he had too many dangerous facts in his hands: The fact that the fairness he had cared so much about turned out to be illusory; the fact that he could walk away and be free anywhere outside of the Empire; the fact that August was already preparing for him to leave. Everything added up to one obvious choice.

“I don’t miss who I used to be,” he confessed, “I don’t want to play the role of the gentle and sweet Omega anymore.” He had loved it once, when he had had Alex to lean on and a glorious future to look forward to. He had spent his whole life dreaming of growing into the perfect partner for his love, for his Prince, for his Empire. But there was no glorious future waiting for him now.

Once the words were out of Galen’s mouth, everything he had been struggling with started to fall into place. One half of the truth had been said aloud, and the other began to crystalize in his heart. He refused to be August’s perfect Omega, and he refused to be the Empire’s, too. On the other hand, he could still taste the omelet that August had made for him, and all the meals he’d made since, every one of which was shared. He struggled to imagine a future outside the Astral Empire, and he struggled to imagine one where he never ate August’s cooking again.

“So?” his sister asked, drawing Galen’s attention back down from the ceiling.

“So I’ll handle this my own way,” Galen said at last, “Please make sure to stop that bill from going forward.”

Galen’s sister scrutinized him as though she could see through him if she just stared long enough. Maybe she could, because she replied, “Alright. I’ll make sure it never sees the light of day. Let me know if you need anything else.”

After the conversation was over, Galen made several more calls. It would be easier now that he knew what he wanted to do, but he still needed to put in the work to pull it off.

That evening, August was lying in his room watching more videos of puppy agility courses. Galen had been scarce the entire day, but he’d heard him talking on his comm a few times. Xanier’s words kept echoing in his head. It was true, after all, that he hadn’t been honest with his classmates. And it was true, in a different way, that he hadn’t been honest with Galen. He wondered if Galen had noticed, and if the Former Crown Princess would say the same thing about him soon.

August’s ruminations were interrupted by a knock on the door. He went and opened it and found Galen on the other side, holding some kind of bag in his hands. “I know it’s late,” Galen said, “But can you help me with my hair? I think it’s about time I re-dye it, and the stuff I need was only just delivered.”

“Oh, uh, okay I can try,” August told him.

They went to Galen’s bathroom and Galen emptied the bag on the countertop. It was filled with things that August couldn’t recognize. “I didn’t know you dyed your own hair,” he said. As soon as he said it, he wondered if it would have been better to say nothing at all.

Nevertheless, Galen replied, “I haven’t in a while; I’m always afraid of messing it up or missing a spot. But now I just want it done quickly, and just about anything is better than what’s going on right now.” As he spoke, he fiddled with his hair in the mirror. At this point in time, the roots were almost as long as the blue part of his hair, and the ends were all of varying lengths. “I’m going to clean up the ends, first,” he decided, picking up a small pair of shears that had been included in the kit his old stylist prepared for him.

August watched quietly, listening to the distinct sound of the scissors, as Galen tentatively cleaned up his ends. When he was done, he flipped his hair back, presented his back to August, and asked, “Does this look even to you?”

August studied the hair carefully. While the length wasn’t much shorter, it did look blunter and neater. When he was sure there wasn’t any unevenness, he told Galen as much. They moved onto the dying, which August really wasn’t much help with. The best he could do was be an extra pair of hands and eyes. He watched Galen coat his hair with dark blue goop while Galen explained the process to him.

Finally, August asked, “Are you going to talk to the press soon?”

Galen sighed and looked at August through the mirror. The other looked positively morose at the prospect. “I have to,” he said scrunching his face, “if I wait much longer, things will really get out of hand. I still know some useful people, but it’s inevitable that I’ll have to say something.”

“Will I, um, should I say something, too?” August asked, dreading the answer.

“Eventually. What do you want to say?” Galen replied, testing August’s reaction.

August blanched at the question, then noticed Galen’s expression in the mirror and blushed. He looked down at the floor and admitted, “I’m not sure.” He knew the easy answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to say in front of Galen that he could accept all the blame.

Galen smiled a little where August wasn’t looking. “You still have some time to think about it,” he said. “Did I miss any spots?” Galen spoke again, forcing August to look up and seriously inspect Galen’s scalp.

“I don’t see anything but blue,” August assured him.

“Okay, now I just have to wait to wash it out,” Galen told him, “You can leave now, if you want.” He couldn’t find any particular excuse to hold August’s attention any longer.

“Well, goodnight, then,” August turned to leave and go back to his room, when he suddenly had an idea. He turned back around and said, “Actually, I wanted to try cooking something new. I was wondering if you had a preference or anything.” Using recipes as an excuse, Galen was able to hold onto him for a few minutes longer, and, when August did leave, he at least had something to look forward to.

The next few days, however, were fiendishly busy for Galen. His plan was to hold a press conference that would clear the air and dismantle the current narrative, then encourage a better perspective in the press afterwards. He was trying to get ahold of a number of difficult to reach people, and there were many more whose help he urgently needed. However, it was with some relief that he finally persuaded the Emperor and Empress that he was in control of the situation, and not to make any further moves without him. His friend Deana at the Promenade had also started to act on his behalf, seeding the foundations for doubt here and there in new articles.

Galen was only beginning to feel like he had everything in hand when he noticed the faint scent of freshwater beaches around August. “Hold on a moment,” he said as August passed by him on the way to the kitchen.

August backtracked and stood in front of Galen, somewhat confused. “Is there something wrong?” he asked. Galen had been hard to bump into recently, and even when they did see each other, he seemed preoccupied with whatever his plans were.

Galen got up off the couch and hooked a hand behind August’s head, encouraging him to lean down. He grabbed at August’s shirt and moved in so close that August could feel his nose tickling his earlobe. Galen inhaled the slightly sweet smell deeply before letting go, releasing August from his stealthy hug. “Your pheromones are definitely back,” he said.

It seemed that they had both been distracted by recent events, and hadn’t noticed the time slipping by them at all. August didn’t know whether he should be relieved that he had a reason to get closer to Galen again, or if he should worry that this would only bring further estrangement. “So, when’s a good time for you?” he asked, somewhat hesitant.

Galen frowned. “I have a few more things to do today,” he told him, “How about I just come get you when I’m ready.”

August hummed in agreement, not particularly reassured. He took a shower in advance and passed the next several hours listlessly, as had become the norm for him. He felt like he was always waiting for something now, although it was hard to say what. Occasionally, he could hear Galen talking in his room or going up and down the stairs. At last, he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

When August opened it, Galen’s neat blue hair was loosely collected in a claw clip, and he was wearing nothing but an oversized sweater. “So I just took the inducer,” he said, somewhat sheepishly, “but can you come down to the kitchen with me, first?”

August immediately agreed. It turned out that seeing Galen half-naked went a long way towards distracting him from his anxious thoughts. He followed the other down the stairs and to the kitchen, furtively staring at the tender-looking backs of his thighs the whole way. In fact, his staring was so bad that it took him a moment to realize that Galen had stopped moving and was waiting for him to look up. When he did, Galen’s smirk made him blush with embarrassment.

“I thought,” Galen said, directing his attention to the countertop, “that since everything has been so crazy lately, it would be nice to… have a little fun… this time.” Galen’s voiced started soft and trailed off as he reconsidered whether or not this was a good idea. He’d put just about everything useful he could think of on the counter: whip cream, chocolate sauce, various fruit, honey, olive oil, even a few spices…

August’s mouth went dry as he considered the selection Galen had laid out. The possibilities turned in his mind. His eyes kept returning over and over to the large, gnarled ginger hiding behind the strawberries. He laughed, then blushed an even deeper red, and put his hand over his mouth as he considered what to say next. “It does sound fun,” he mumbled.