Chapter Text
A year later.
The silence in the room was so heavy it felt structural, as if the very walls of the mansion were holding their breath.
A year had passed, and the Ice Princes had long since thawed, but standing there in the center of the room, Brandon and Landon looked like twin statues of absolute, paralyzed shock. Their expressions were identical—wide-eyed, pale, and utterly stunned.
In Brandon’s trembling hand sat the small plastic stick, the two pink lines staring back at him with an unapologetic clarity. It was official.
Brandon King was pregnant with Nikolai Sokolov’s child.
Their relationship over the past twelve months had become the kind of soul-deep bond that defied logic. Nikolai, the chaotic, territorial storm of a man, had become entirely tethered to Brandon’s calm. He couldn't sleep, couldn't focus, and certainly couldn't function without "his lotus flower" nearby. But as Brandon stared at the test, a wave of conflict crashed over him. He wanted this—he had always wanted a family—but Nikolai was barely twenty, still finishing his studies while Brandon was already established. He didn't want to trap the Alpha in a life of diapers and midnight feedings before he’d even finished his own growth.
Landon was the first to break the silence, and he did it with the grace of a collapsing chandelier.
"A baby?" Landon’s voice jumped three octaves, his hands flying to his face. "Brandon! A literal, tiny, screaming Russian-King hybrid, a mini Potato, is currently colonizing your uterus? Do you have any idea what this means?!"
"Landon, please, I'm trying to think—" Brandon started, his voice faint.
"Think? There is no thinking!" Landon began to pace the length of the room, his silk robe billowing behind him like a battle cape. "We have to sanitize the entire east wing! We need to order a crib made of solid oak! No, mahogany! And Nikolai—oh, god, Nikolai is going to be a disaster. He already treats a papercut like a national emergency. He’s going to build a fortress around you and refuse to let you walk on your own two feet for nine months!"
Landon stopped mid-pace, his eyes darting to the door as if he expected Nikolai to burst through it at any moment. "He’s going to be so possessive he’ll probably try to fight the doctor for touching you. Brandon, we aren't prepared for a 'Mini-Niko.' The mansion isn't reinforced for that level of chaos!"
"Lan, breathe," Brandon tried to intervene, leaning against the vanity. "He’s only twenty. I don't want to burden him. He’s still a student, he has so much—"
"Burden him?" Landon shrieked, throwing his hands up. "The man follows you around like a giant, muscle-bound shadow! He breathes when you breathe! If anything, he’s going to think he won the celestial lottery. But that’s the problem! He’s going to be impossible!"
Landon suddenly grabbed a decorative pillow and hugged it to his chest, looking genuinely panicked. "What if the baby has his appetite? We’ll go bankrupt in a week! And the screaming! My sculptures need a quiet environment, Brandon! I can't have a tiny Sokolov howling 'Papa!' while I’m trying to work!"
"You're freaking out more than I am," Brandon pointed out, a small, hysterical laugh finally bubbling up in his chest.
"Because I'm the only one seeing the logistical nightmare!" Landon countered, though his eyes softened as he looked at his twin. He stepped forward, taking Brandon’s hands in his. "But... a nephew. Or a niece. A little King with those ridiculous Sokolov eyes."
Landon’s lower lip trembled for a split second before he masked it with a haughty sniff. "Fine. We’ll handle it. But I am in charge of the wardrobe. I refuse to let a niece or nephew of mine be dressed in nothing but tracksuits and Russian leather."
Brandon shook his head, a weary but fond smile breaking through his initial panic. "Landon, please. You’re already picking out cashmere onesies and the child is currently the size of a lemon. Can we focus?"
"A lemon that will grow into a mini Russian-British Potato-zilla!" Landon countered, waving a hand dismissively. "The dramatics are entirely warranted, Brandon. This is a dynastic shift!"
The heavy oak doors to the suite swung open before Brandon could respond. Jeremy and Nikolai stepped in, still wearing their training gear, the scent of cedar and rain following them like a physical wake. They stopped dead at the sight of the twins—Landon clutching a silk throw pillow like a shield and Brandon looking unnervingly pale.
"What was it?" Nikolai asked, his brow furrowing as he moved toward Brandon with that instinctive, predatory grace. "We heard Landon’s voice from the hallway. It sounded like someone was being murdered. Or worse—like the WiFi went out."
Jeremy stayed by the door, his eyes immediately locking onto Landon, scanning for a threat. "What's going on, Lan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
Landon opened his mouth to deliver a stinging, witty retort, but for the first time in his life, the words died in his throat. He just pointed a trembling finger at the small plastic stick resting on the vanity behind Brandon.
Brandon took a deep, steadying breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. He stepped forward, meeting Nikolai halfway. He reached out, his smaller hands finding the Alpha’s massive, scarred ones.
"Niko," Brandon whispered, searching the younger man’s face. He saw the adoration there, the raw, energy that usually made Nikolai feel like a whirlwind. "I... I have something to tell you. And I need you to stay calm."
Nikolai’s expression shifted instantly from confusion to a terrifying, protective focus. "Who did it? Who hurt you? I’ll burn the city down, Brandon, I swear to—"
"No one hurt me!" Brandon interrupted, a small laugh escaping him. He pulled one of Nikolai's hands and pressed it flat against his own stomach. "I’m pregnant, Nikolai. We’re having a baby."
The silence that followed was absolute. Nikolai froze, his hand splayed over Brandon’s midsection as if he were afraid any movement would break the reality of the moment. His eyes searched Brandon’s, wide and disbelieving, until the truth finally sank in.
Then, the explosion happened.
Landon was right—Nikolai didn't just take the news; he looked like he had personally won the lottery, the World Cup, and the throne of Russia all at once. A massive, jagged grin split his face, and before Brandon could warn him about his "delicate" state, Nikolai scooped him up into a bone-crushing hug, spinning him around the room.
"A baby!" Nikolai roared, his voice thick with a joy so pure it was almost deafening. "My lotus flower is having my pup! A little Sokolov-King! I knew it! I knew I felt something different!"
"Nikolai! Put him down!" Landon shrieked, hovering nearby like a frantic bird. "He is an incubator now! You’ll scramble the child’s brains!"
"I'm going to be a father!" Nikolai ignored him entirely, setting Brandon down but keeping his hands locked on his waist, his eyes shining with a frantic, hyped-up energy. "I’m going to build a playground. No, a fortress. Brandon, we need a bigger car. An armored one. And I’m quitting school—I need to be here every second—"
"You are not quitting school," Brandon laughed, his eyes wet as he cupped Nikolai’s face. "But... you're happy? You don't feel burdened?"
"Burdened?" Nikolai looked offended at the very suggestion. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against Brandon’s, his breathing ragged. "Baby, I’m the king of the world. I’m the luckiest man in history. I’ll give you everything. I’ll give this kid the moon."
In the corner, Jeremy caught Landon’s eye. He leaned against the doorframe, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he watched the chaos. "Told you," he murmured to Landon. "Russians don't do 'subtle' when it comes to family."
Landon huffed, leaning back into Jeremy’s solid warmth, though his eyes never left the sight of Nikolai now kneeling on the floor to talk directly to Brandon’s flat stomach.
"He’s a menace," Landon whispered, though he didn't pull away when Jeremy’s hand slid possessively around his waist. "He’s already planning a private militia for a child that currently resembles a sea monkey."
Brandon laughed, his fingers tangling in Nikolai’s messy hair as the younger Alpha started listing off Russian names that sounded more like battle cries. The crushing weight of worry that had been sitting on Brandon's chest for the last hour finally evaporated, replaced by the sheer, infectious heat of Nikolai's joy. Nikolai wasn't burdened; he was reborn.
But then, Brandon’s laughter trailed off. He caught Landon’s gaze across the room—that twin telepathy clicking into place with the force of a high-speed collision.
"Lan," Brandon said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. "Dad is going to freak out. Real bad."
The room went momentarily quiet.
Landon’s expression shifted from smug amusement to a look of profound, impending chaos. It wasn't fear—the King twins had never feared their father’s shadow—but it was the realization that a hurricane was about to meet an earthquake.
"Oh, 'freak out' doesn't cover it," Landon drawled, his eyes widening with a mix of dread and dark amusement. "He’s going to have a literal, Victorian-style heart failure. A King Omega? Pregnant with a Bratva baby? The scandal alone might actually do him in."
Nikolai looked up from Brandon’s lap, his eyes flashing with a sharp, dangerous sort of glee that didn't hide the underlying warmth. "Don't worry," he said, his voice dropping into a confident rumble. "I’ll make sure he doesn't freak out. And if he does, I’ll be right there to help you calm him down—or remind him exactly who’s protecting this family now."
Nikolai shrugged, a boyish, triumphant grin splitting his face. His eyes were twinkling with a happiness so fierce that nothing, not even the impending wrath of a King, could dull that spark.
"Maybe we could get my dad to help us out," Nikolai suggested, his voice brimming with a sudden, mischievous inspiration. "He’s surprisingly charming when he isn't busy trying to break someone’s ribs. He has this way of making even the most stubborn bastards understand reason."
Brandon chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind Nikolai’s ear. "I guess we could use the backup. But it’s going to be pure chaos. None of us have officially told our parents we’re even dating, and dropping the 'dating and pregnant' bomb all at once is definitely going to send them over the edge."
Jeremy looked at Landon, then shifted his gaze to Brandon and Nikolai, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful. "You’re right. So why not just disclose everything at once? Rip the bandage off in one go."
"That sounds about right," Landon agreed, a wicked chuckle bubbling up as the sheer scale of the situation started to amuse him. "Let’s just give them all a collective heart attack. The secret relationships, the cross-family dating, and the pregnancy news. It’ll be an apocalypse."
"I think we should ask Glyn and Mia, too," Brandon added softly, his eyes searching theirs. "If they want to do this with us, we should give them the chance to be part of the madness if they want to disclose their own relationship."
"Good idea, baby!" Nikolai stood up, immediately wrapping a heavy, possessive arm around Brandon’s waist and pulling him flush against his side.
"We should just get them all together in one place, then," Jeremy said, leaning back against the doorframe.
Nikolai frowned, his brow furrowing in concentration. "But how? Getting the parents to fly in from New York without a massive explanation is going to be a nightmare. They’ll suspect something is up the second we ask."
A slow, predatory smirk grew in Jeremy’s eyes. "Well, I could get Anoushka to call them. If she so much as whines over the phone, Dad will have the private plane fueled and ready before she even hangs up. No questions asked."
Nikolai’s eyes sparked with pure mischief as he let out a loud, triumphant cheer. "Fuck! Jer, you’re a genius! Mom and Dad would come rushing down here if Maya even hints at a pout. They can't say no to her."
"Exactly," Jeremy nodded, his smirk widening. "They’ll be here before they have time to suspect a thing. We’ll have them exactly where we want them."
Glyndon and Mia stood as still as statues in the center of the Elite mansion’s library, the heavy scent of old parchment and mahogany forgotten as they stared at Brandon. Glyndon’s wide-eyed gaze was fixed squarely on her brother’s midsection.
"You’re what?!" she asked for the third time, her voice barely a squeak.
"Yes, what she said!" Mia joined in, her head whipping back and forth between her brother and Brandon’s stomach as if she expected a neon sign to appear.
Maya was simply too stunned to speak. The idea of her brother getting an Omega pregnant at this age—while still essentially a student himself—was beyond her mental capacity. She just blinked, looking from Brandon’s flushed, shy face to Nikolai’s radiating, arrogant beam.
"Is this a prank? Landon, is this one of your twisted jokes?" Glyndon asked desperately, still so blindsided that she was holding onto doubt like a lifeline.
"The fuck, Glyn! I’m the innocent party here for once!" Landon stood up from his armchair, leveling a playfully offended glare at his sister. "It’s the 'nice twin' this time. Brandon’s the one who got himself knocked up, while I am still a picture of purity and grace."
"‘Pure doesn’t suit you, so please spare us the dramatics," Glyndon retorted, rolling her eyes before turning back to Brandon with a softer, searching expression. "Bran... is it really true?"
Annika let out a small, suppressed chuckle. Landon was a whirlwind of chaos, such a stark, hilarious contrast to her own stoic brother, Jeremy. Despite the heavy implications for their families, the situation was becoming far too amusing for her to stay serious.
Brandon offered a small, shy nod of confirmation, his hand instinctively resting over his stomach. Maya saw the way he leaned further into her brother’s side, seeking the Alpha's heat, and the reality finally snapped into place for her.
"Oh my god, Niko! You actually got him pregnant!" Mia and Maya both gasped in unison, the realization hitting them like a freight train.
"I did!" Nikolai declared, his chest puffing out with enough pride to fill the entire library. He looked ready to march out and announce it to the city.
Jeremy snorted at his best friend’s peacocking. Trust Nikolai to be loud and boastful even in the middle of a family scandal, but the ghost of a smile tugged at Jeremy’s lips. He was genuinely happy for his friends.
"Um... congratulations," Glyndon and the others said, voices overlapping in a mix of shock and sincerity. They shared a brief, stunned glance before the tension pivoted into pure, unadulterated excitement.
"We’re going to be aunts!" all the girls yelled together, the sound echoing off the library’s high ceiling as the chaos of the merger reached a whole new, deafening level.
Jeremy cleared his throat, his expression sharpening into a serious, tactical focus. "So, we’ve decided. We’re disclosing the whole situation—the secret dating and the pregnancy news—to our parents together. No more hiding."
"And we wanted to know if you two want to disclose your relationship alongside us?" Brandon asked, looking toward Glyn and Mia with a soft, encouraging smile.
"Yes! Collective heart attacks for everyone at the exact same time," Landon giggled, his eyes dancing with the prospect of the coming storm. Most of the room tried to ignore his brand of chaos, but Annika couldn't help a small, bubbly giggle of her own. Landon caught her eye and threw her a wink of pure, unadulterated mischief.
Glyndon and Mia shared a long, silent look before nodding in unison, clasping their hands together. "Actually, we’ve been talking about telling our parents soon anyway," Glyn said, her voice steadying.
"Doing it together feels... safer. Strength in numbers." Mia added with a reckless chuckle, "If we’re going down, we might as well go down as a united front. Let’s make it a night they’ll never forget."
"Okay, then it’s decided." Brandon clapped his hands, his eyes twinkling and his face radiating that unmistakable, ethereal pregnancy glow. Despite the looming confrontation, he looked more at peace than he had in years.
"For this to work, we’re going to need all of you," Jeremy said, his smirk growing predatory. "We need the 'Aunt Squad' to lead the charge."
The girls shared a round of mischievous glances, the air in the library suddenly thick with the kind of plotting that usually preceded a small revolution.
"I am so incredibly in for the chaos!" Maya snorted, slumping down into the plush sofa beside Brandon and already reaching out to pat his stomach, already leaning into her role.