Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Grigori Rozanov, Alexei Rozanov | Andrei Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Svetlana Vetrova, Roger Crowell

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Royalty, Magic, Curses, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Alternate Universe - Swan Princess (1994) Fusion, Loons, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Angst with a Happy Ending

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-06 Words: 3,978 Chapters: 1/?

Far Longer Than Forever

Summary

After years of spending summers detesting each other, Prince Shane Hollander and Tsarevich Ilya Rozanov were ready to never see each other again.

But as the two laid eyes on each other on the year of their 18th birthdays, something changed, and hatred turning into something far more precious and fragile.

But it would not be long lived, as other forces at work plotted to tear them apart.

Aka a retelling of The Swan Princess (1994) but I turn Shane into a loon.

Notes

For starters, idk what this is or what compelled me to write it at 2 AM but here we are thirteen hours later posting it so enjoy I guess.

Also, no AI was used in the creation of this fic. I just like using the em dash bc otherwise I will plague you with commas (and I do mean that as a threat).

Chapter 1

Prologue

Once upon a time there was a Queen. Named Yuna, she ruled a large and mighty kingdom with wisdom and benevolence. She and her husband David were beloved, and known for their generosity and welcoming nature, and yet, they were sad. Beyond anything else, the two yearned for a child to raise, to care for, and to one day inherit the throne. They grew older and more fearful, worrying one day that it would never happen, until finally, a son was born. A Prince, the kingdom’s pride and joy, their gift from a gracious universe. Royalty came from all around to offer gifts to the boy, amongst them, Tsar Grigory, whose own wife was expecting their second child.

Some years later, tragedy struck Tsar Grigory’s kingdom when Tsarina Irina, mother to Alexei and Ilya died under abrupt circumstances. Queen Yuna made it a point to attend the funeral, and it was there she and Grigori happened upon the same idea.

Yuna yearned for her son – an otherwise bright and dedicated child – to have companionship, and build relationships with peers his own age.

Grigori wanted to be rid of his second son. The mere sight of Ilya was an affront to him, a painful reminder and a source of anger. So when the Queen made an offer to host Ilya in her kingdom for the summer seasons, the Tsar leapt at the chance, accepting without hesitation.

Every summer, Ilya would be sent away, to bond with Shane and build a friendship between the two of them that would serve the families well in the future, for their two respective kingdoms were allies and trading partners.

But unknown to everyone, another plan had been hatched, by that of the evil enchanter, Crowell. Shane’s birth was of little concern to him, for he was preparing to take Queen Yuna’s kingdom by means of the Forbidden Arts.

It wasn’t so long ago that he had been a hopeful suitor of hers only to be turned down, a humiliation he would never forgive her for. But Crowell was not subtle, and became a known threat that Yuna would soon have to deal with, so before the summer began in Shane’s thirteenth year, she sent her army to attack Crowell, plunging him and his powers into darkness.

Despite calls for his death, she showed him mercy, and the enchanter was only banished. As Yuna herself drove him from her borders, Crowell made a threat in passing.

“I’m not finished with you yet, Yuna. Someday I’ll get my power back. And when I do, everything you own, everything you love will be mine.”

Many feared the Queen had been too kind, but in time the threat was forgotten and all hopes turned to the coming summer, when Shane and Ilya would first meet.

Present Day

Theirault, the Chamberlain of Queen Yuna’s kingdom was on the lookout, waiting with anticipation for the arrival of Tsar Grigory and his son, who were due to come any moment now. The palace had been abuzz for weeks, with preparations for the coming of Tsarevich Ilya Rozanov, with guest rooms being aired out, a formal banquet being prepared, and arranged tutoring for the young prince on the customs and culture of his counterpart. All that was left now was for the young royal to actually arrive.

And arrive he did. The sound of hooves preceded them, and the chamberlain soon spied a party of horses emerging down the main road into the kingdom. With an excited flourish, the chamberlain beckoned for the gate to be opened, signaling to the waiting court below that their guests had finally made an appearance.

Queen Yuna straightened her back, and beside her, Prince Shane corrected his own posture, doing his best to imitate his mother. The Tsar himself led his entourage into the designated space, but Shane’s attention was immediately locked onto the boy riding behind him, on a jet black horse. His fair hair glinted in the sunlight, the curls delicately framing his face, which was sporting a neutral (almost bored) expression.

The Tsar dismounted, and proceeded with the formalities, greeting Yuna as custom dictated. “Queen Yuna, your court is as beautiful as I remember. The Apple of an equally beautiful queen’s eye.”

Yuna smiled. “Your kind words do me a great service. Speaking of the apple of one’s eyes, that strapping young lad beside you must be Tsarevich Ilya, no doubt? You are most welcome here.”

Grigory needed only to give Ilya one glance, and the boy dismounted from his horse, giving a polite bow to the queen before straightening up. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“This is my son,” Yuna beckoned for Shane to step forward. “It has been some time since you saw him last, Tsar.”

Grigory gave Shane a cursory glance, his expression giving nothing away. “Indeed.”

Shane bowed to the Tsar, and then to his son. “I am pleased to meet you both. I look forward to spending time with you, Tsarevich Rozanov. I hope you will enjoy your time here.” He continued, offering his hand out to Ilya with the intent to shake it.

Ilya stared back at him with a cool regard, leaving Shane’s hand hanging in the air for a tad too long before finally stepping forward to take it. “Okay.” He muttered, and Shane blinked, surprised by the lack of matching enthusiasm.

Eager to get on with the royal visit, the Queen happily led Ilya and his father on a tour of the castle, and Shane dogged their steps, interjecting mild comments when appropriate, hoping to show off or garner any degree of interest from the other prince. But Ilya remained neutrally disengaged, never showing the slightest bit of care for anything they had to offer, souring Shane’s opinion of the other boy with each passing moment.

By the end of the tour, Shane found himself offended on his mother’s behalf. He couldn’t believe they were playing host to someone so apathetic and indifferent.

It became all too clear over the next few days that despite the preparation that had gone into this trip, that the summer would be a miserable waste because the two of them clearly had nothing in common. Ilya was rebellious, crass, and inattentive, caring little for responsibility or decorum. He spoke often of his home country, making it clear to anyone who would listen that he preferred being there. In private, Shane would think to himself that he too preferred Ilya being there, or rather Ilya being wherever Shane was not. The other boy was a distraction, and often interrupted whatever training or tutoring the young prince had going on, making his presence known until Shane was forced to react, a new past time the young Tsarevich seemed to delight in.

When the summer finally ended, and Shane could see the back end of Ilya’s horse disappear down the road, he turned to his mother and begged, pleading with her never to invite Ilya to return. But she simply shook her head and with a single devastating announcement, informing Shane that Ilya would be returning every summer until the two boys reached adulthood.

Each passing summer was more miserable than the next, and Shane grew to resent the season with a passion. He begrudgingly counted down the days to each visit, aggressively crossing them off on his calendar with only a comforting reminder that the sooner it happened, the sooner it would be over. Not even the future Lord Pike, Shane’s closest confidant at court, could make Shane feel better, even when he arranged tournaments for the Prince’s favorite sport as entertainment.

Ilya too found himself increasingly miserable at the prospect, often lamenting to the young Duchess Svetlana, who was a constant companion of his how much he disliked the arrangement. On one hand, it got him out of his father’s court and away from his family, but his time in Queen Yuna’s court was always a terrible experience. He had no one to speak to there in his own language, there were always people watching him and holding him to their expectations, and it was very clear that the Prince blatantly disliked him.

Queen Yuna turned a blind eye to the souring relationship between the two heirs, determined that prolonged proximity would eventually break down their stubbornness. She often encouraged (forced) them to tour the kingdom and be seen in public, in what was meant to be an encouraging gesture for the common folk, to show them that there was peace and goodwill between the two nations. The two always sat as far away from each other as they could, and Ilya would watch bitterly as the kingdom showered Shane with praise, silently jealous of how beloved he was to his people. Ilya would never be accepted by his father’s subjects, who dismissed him because he was the spare heir, who would bear no importance on the future of his house. His brother Alexei had married young, already having taken a wife, and secured himself an heir of his own. Ilya’s niece or nephew would be born while he was away, something Ilya was convinced had been done on purpose so that he would be intentionally excluded from the celebration. None of this was Shane’s fault of course, but nonetheless Ilya found himself resentful because of it.

Summer after summer passed, and the boys grew. Ilya trained, becoming an impressive fighter and hunter, a sportsman in his prime. After he returned from the summer of his 18th year, he would start the only respectable career path he could have for an unwanted branch of the Tsar’s household; military service. So in the meantime, he would prepare. He would often train by himself, rigorously practicing with a sword and other kinds of weapons until he was as proficient and deadly as any soldier in Yuna’s army.

Shane too trained for combat, not that he would ever actually need it. As the only heir to the throne, he would not be spared for service, but he dared not fall behind Ilya. On occasion, the two of them would find themselves competing, racing or doing their best to outperform each other until they were both run ragged.

The sixth, and final, summer arrived all too quickly. Unlike his first arrival in Yuna’s kingdom, Ilya’s last arrival was without much fanfare, with only himself for company. As was expected of him, Shane waited in the courtyard, ready to welcome Ilya with a terse greeting, but when the Tsarevich finally dismounted, the Prince found himself caught off-guard.

Ilya had grown much since this past summer and the current one, finally reaching his adult height. He’d bulked up as well, the reward from constant training, allowing his features to mature and settle. His piercing hazel eyes looked like the perfect mix of amber and moss, catching the sunlight with every subtle glance. His hair, cut short into a style appropriate for his station, curled and flared into a complex pattern, giving him an unnecessary softness that had Shane repressing the urge to touch. There was no denying that the Tsarevich was handsome, and with a single horrifying realization, Shane quickly recognized that he had suddenly become attracted to Ilya.

Similarly, a near identical train of thought was running through Ilya’s mind upon his arrival. He had half-expected Shane to not even make an appearance this summer, after a disastrous and humiliating competition (for Shane) between the two last summer had driven the two to opposite ends of the castle. Not even Yuna’s orders had forced the two of them to exist civilly in each other’s presence, so Ilya had barely paid Shane any mind last summer. So when he caught sight of the Prince, standing in wait with his head held high, Ilya found himself struck speechless. Shane carried himself with a confidence and grace that could only be matched by his mother, wearing it like armor. His brown eyes reflected the sun with hints of flame in them, jewels capping off the porcelain cut of his face. A sharp jawline and high cheekbones were framed by carefully styled black locks, which swooped in artful waves around the silver crown set upon his head. But the thing that caught Ilya’s attention the most was the intense (but beautiful) smattering of freckles that bloomed over the bridge of Shane’s nose and the apples of his cheeks.

Both of them stared at each other with well-disguised shock, unable to believe that in front of them was the person they had spent so long treating with distaste.

“Tsarevich Rozanov,” Shane nearly stumbled over his words. “Welcome back. I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

Even Shane’s voice sounded attractive. Ilya tried to remember if it sounded the same the last time he’d heard it, or if it had since dropped in pitch as a consequence of Shane’s maturity. But he couldn’t ruminate on that for too long. “Yes. Was long, but comfortable. Thank you for your welcome.”

“We are happy to have you here.” Shane replied, suddenly realizing he was breathless. “Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”

Ilya knew the way. By now, he was well acquainted with the castle that Shane called home, having spent his summers exploring every inch. But he didn’t dare reject Shane’s presence. “Yes…please.”

Shane blinked, even further taken aback. The casual display of respect and manners was uncharacteristic of the Ilya he remembered. They wandered through the castle, both of them subconsciously moving slowly as to extend their time together, and Ilya found himself desperate to keep a conversation going just so that he might her Shane say another word to him.

“The palace is more decorated than I remember?” Ilya remarked, noticing unfamiliar formal finery adorning nearly every inch of the palace. Garlands of silver accompanied by lush banners of blue, marked with the symbol of Yuna’s house, hung from the walls, alcoves, and stairs, balanced out by lavish bouquets of white and red.

Shane blushed, a pretty rosy color blooming across his face, as if he were embarrassed. Ilya tripped, nearly toppling himself at the sight, struck dumb by the effect the mere flush had on him. “They’re for my birthday. The celebration will coincide with my formal recognition as heir apparent. The entire kingdom will be welcome to celebrate. You’re invited, of course.” Shane tacked on at the end, lamely. With their birthdays so close together and both over the summer period, the two had regularly celebrated together even if it was not willingly, and yet now it felt different. Shane’s birthday was less than four weeks away now, and Ilya’s would arrive in just over seven.

Ilya nodded with a faint smile. “I am honored to attend.”

Light conversation flowed between the two of them, Ilya regaling Shane with a story about his regiment that he would be serving with after the summer concluded. Shane listened patiently, hiding the flash of disappointment as the realization that this would be Ilya’s last summer here set in. They would spend no more extended time together, and Shane suddenly felt the urge to get as much out of it as possible while he still had the chance.

They reached Ilya’s rooms finally, and Shane opened his mouth to regretfully make his departure so that Ilya could settle in, but Ilya set his bag down with a careless thud and closed the door behind them with casual intention. The words died on Shane’s tongue, and Ilya circled him until Shane found himself backed up against a wall.

“I…” Shane stuttered, but could say nothing else as Ilya closed the gap between them, pressing a gentle kiss upon his lips. Fingers danced along the exposed skin of Shane’s neck until they threaded amongst the roots of Shane’s hair, forcing their faces closer together, deepening the kiss. Shane didn’t mind, opening his mouth just a little, giving Ilya the access they were both suddenly craving.

Shane’s hands wandered, grabbing at Ilya’s waist, and then his shoulders, and then his arms, desperate to find purchase that would stop him from feeling like Shane was drowning under Ilya’s attention.

But as soon as it started, the moment ceased. Ilya stepped back, looking shocked and Shane blinked, surprised in himself.

“Tell me to stop.” Ilya said in a low voice. Shane’s head was swimming to the point that he could barely make sense of what Ilya was saying.

“I can’t.” Shane said faintly, and Ilya groaned, the only indicator of his resistance breaking before he grabbed Shane by the front of his tunic and dragged him across the room towards the bed. Shane barely had the cognizance to rip the crown off his head as he was pushed onto the mattress before it clattered to the floor and made a noise that would alarm the guards, while Ilya worked on undoing Shane’s belt and the laces of his pants. The fabric was yanked out of the way, and Ilya stepped back, expertly stripping himself until they were both in matching states of undress.

Shane lay flat on the mattress, watching with wide eyes as Ilya climbed over him, and with a confident hand, wrapped his fingers around Shane’s cock. Shane gasped at the touch, canting his hips ever so slightly up as his back arched, all the while Ilya leaned in, recapturing Shane’s lips with his own.

The touch on his manhood was intoxicating, and Shane could feel himself slipping into a heavy headspace, but his competitive streak wouldn’t let him stay still. In an uncoordinated move, Shane hooked one leg behind Ilya’s knee, and with a firm yank at the waist, Shane flipped them both until he was straddling Ilya.

Shane was no blushing virgin or a stranger to sex, but doing this with a man was new territory for him, and yet it felt so much more comfortable. He didn’t dare consider why that might be, or if it might be because of who it was with, but he wasn’t about to back down now. Ilya watched bemusedly as Shane slipped off the bed, divesting himself of the rest of his clothes, and then with a surprised choke, watched as Shane took the time to fold his tunic, undershirt, and pants neatly on the bedside table. It was strangely endearing, and so familiarly Shane that Ilya contentedly propped himself up on his elbows to enjoy the sight.

Satisfied with his compulsion, Shane turned his direction back to Ilya, who was leaning up and looking back, his knees falling over the edge of the bed, spread just wide enough to give Shane a proper view of his dick, which stood proudly out from between his legs. Shane salivated at the picture Ilya made, and guided himself to the floor on wobbly knees, settling between Ilya’s thighs until his mouth was pressing light kisses to the underside of Ilya’s cock.

Ilya moaned, tossing his head back as Shane continued, taking his length into his mouth gingerly, the wet heat enveloping the tip with pleasurable sparks. And it didn’t stop there, as Shane’s lips sealed around the length, providing delicious suction and pressure as his head bobbed up and down until Ilya was panting from the stimulation.

“Wait!” He gasped, eyes blowing open as Ilya realized just how close to the edge he was coming, and Shane pulled off with a flinch, staring back with worried eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” Shane asked breathlessly, his lips red and slick with saliva and Ilya’s precum.

Ilya sighed, grinning, and sat up fully, grabbing Shane by the hair to pull him into another kiss. “Just opposite. Too good. Didn’t want this to end so soon.”

Shane relaxed under Ilya’s grip, and let himself be pulled back onto the bed, one of Ilya’s hands releasing their hold on Shane to come between them, stroking both of their erections at the same time until Ilya came. Shane let out a small mewl as he felt Ilya’s cum splatter over them both, but the other boy wasn’t done yet, letting himself go to switch positions once more until his own mouth was sinking down on Shane’s dick.

Shane moaned, reveling in the sensation of Ilya’s tongue laving over his erection, jolting as it played with his tip and swept over the cockhead, and without thinking, he allowed one of his hands to weave amongst Ilya’s fine curls, tightly gripping the roots as Ilya’s mouth sank deeper and deeper down Shane’s shaft. It was overwhelming, electrifying, and intense, and more noises of pleasure dripped from Shane’s mouth as Ilya brought him closer and closer to orgasm.

Shane uttered out a warning, tugging gently on the strands wrapped around his fingers, expecting Ilya to pull off, but the blond stayed where he was, continuing to suck and lick until Shane was dragged over the edge, spilling his release down Ilya’s throat.

Ilya pulled off with a satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Wide-eyed, Shane stared down at him in shock, the awkwardness suddenly setting in. “I…”

“Was good, yes?” Ilya preened, climbing up the bed until he was settled against the pillows. Shane shifted, mimicking his posture as he lay beside him, blushing violently.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Uh…thank you?”

Ilya snorted. “Thank you.” Ilya emphasized the last word, admiring as the red hue of Shane’s face bloomed even further, reaching down his neck. “Was nicer greeting compared to last summer.”

Shane snorted, immediately triggered into abrupt laughter, causing Ilya to join in. “Well at least this summer will be memorable.” Shane said, Ilya’s eyes sharpening at the promise of more memorable instances, but before either of them could say anything more, Shane’s eyes fell over to the side table where his crown lay, and a harsh reality set in hard.

Immediately, his entire body language shifted and Shane got up out of the bed, rushing to redress as he frantically tried to put himself back together. Ilya sighed, and did the same. It wouldn’t be long before someone inevitably came looking for one or both of them, and Ilya still had to formally announce his presence to his hosts.

“We can’t tell anyone about this.” Shane snapped, and Ilya grunted.

“Of course. I know that.” He said grumpily, tugging his clothes back on, realizing with disgust that as soon as Shane left he would have to take them off again, for they were coated in the dust of the road and stained by the drying cum that was still smeared over his stomach. Eventually, he gave up trying to redress, and simply lay on the bed, choosing to watch as Shane carefully tucked himself back into a proper appearance.

Setting the crown back upon his head, Shane finally noticed his audience, and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ilya leered. “You look pretty with crown.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “I’ll…I should…uh, I’ll see you at dinner?” He finally asked, cursing himself for tripping over his own words, all modicum of sense apparently having gone out the window.

“Probably. Yes.” Ilya nodded.

Satisfied by that answer, Shane forced himself to turn around and leave, glancing back once just in time to see Ilya gazing back with a thoughtful expression that sent a rush through Shane’s body. He closed the door behind him, and glanced around, checking to see if anyone was nearby or watching. In the clear, without wasting another second, Shane raced back to his own rooms, securing himself in the privacy of his own space and collapsed, reeling over the events that had just occurred.

Alone, Ilya flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the canopy of his bedframe with a wry smile on his face. “Now that,” he muttered to himself. “Was my idea of fun.”