Author's Note: This was originally requested on the Hetalia Kink Meme. This chapter is kind of short, but it's kind of a exposition here for Ivan's past. And there's a little, decently fluffy moment for Alfred and Art. We're coming up on some super sneaky-sneak plans for both sides in the next few chapters.

Warnings: Omegaverse, mention of yaoi and mpreg, mention of an infant's death, and possessive urges.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.

Alfred was really going to be his, wasn't he? No more of these 'chance encounters', glances at meetings, and small talk at Unity Balls as their only interactions. Ivan wanted Alfred for more than just that.

He returned to his chambers at the end of the day. His big, empty room filled with emerald and mint tones, marble furniture and golden trimmings, all smelling of the same vodka mint. The same, boring scent. Assistants and servers were, by regulation, covered in generic scents as to not distract the King from his work. Honestly, he couldn't tell which were of what nature- they all smelled the same. There needed to be something to brighten it up. One can go for so many days alone before they want a companion again.

Ivan cast off his formal attire, removing the great coat and hanging it up, leaving him in his dark green trousers and cream undershirt. Keeping the closet door open, he awaited the day where there would be another collection of clothing joining his. Alfred would look dashing in green, wouldn't he? Perhaps he could continue wearing a few blue items. The lighter shades brought out his eyes more, after all. The creams would accent his highlights in his hair. Whatever color Alfred would end up wearing, Ivan would make sure that he was that perfect, spirited boy that allured him so.

Reaching into the bottom of the closet, Ivan knelt down and pulled out a wooden box, buried under blankets and papers and old memories. It was in surprisingly good shape, but being tucked away for years on end didn't put much stress on wood, so perhaps it wasn't that surprising after all. The lock was decently aged, it's color faded a bit. It still worked, so that was good. The hinges creaked a bit when he undid the latch and opened it, but there was no need to silence it.

Yao's old scent hit him hard. Ivan smirked softly, reminded of the way Yao so admired the spiciness of his own scent. He used to smell like a fresh stir-fry, all the seasonings perfectly balanced with a good dash of heat that made Ivan keep going back. Nowadays, there was no charm, no spice, no...anything. Yao was bland, just like the crumpets the Spade Queen insisted on being edible.

There was a sense of nostalgia about it.

Ivan moved a few of the items, most of the box's contents being letters they had exchanged during the course of their bond together. Had Yao kept his old love letters? Ivan kept every single one of them, aside from a few that had been destroyed in a small fire when he kept them in the study. Right now, the only reason he kept them was the scent. Not Yao's scent, no.

Ivan pulled out a small, indigo cloth and held it gently in his hand, closing the box to focus on the smell that it still held. It didn't smell so much of Yao, but more of himself, his old scent when he had a mate. This is what he'd smell like with Alfred. It'd be stronger again. It would carry all the love of a bond, all the caring of a mate, and all what he wanted to receive from Alfred. Alfred's true mate scent was probably divine. Ivan wasn't sure what aspects of Alfred's scent were true, what with all the cologne. He'd have to find out on his own someday, and someday soon. Hopefully that smoky aspect was still there. That would probably be Ivan's favorite part.

And then there was that cream swatch.

…

No matter how much Ivan tried to forget about it, he couldn't just throw it away.

It still smelled like his baby daughter. His tiny little Klara. Ivan could only describe her scent as being that of a warm marshmallow. She was fluffy and sweet- it was a shame that she never had the chance to grow up.

Would his and Alfred's child smell so sweet? Would he have a child to hold instead of a simple piece of cloth? Ivan's chest tied itself in knots as he ran his thumb across the cream cotton, and it got to the point that he had to place it back in the box and back in the closet. He couldn't let the emotions hit him so hard. All the guilt, the shame, the sadness and longing...

He'd never have to go through that again. He promised Mother Clover. He promised Alfred.

Now he just needed to get a plan together.

"Sorry..." Alfred sat on the edge of his own bed, now that they were back in Spades, his head hung low.

"You shouldn't be so careless- do you understand what could have happened?!" Arthur scolded him, reaching into the fabric and pulling out the very same small bottle of cologne that Ivan had held. "You left this behind! You'd might as well have shown yourself off to the world!" He motioned the bottle at Alfred's face, as if to rub in his shame. He set it down on the bedside table with a loud thud, growling under his breath.

As Arthur went on rambling about how careless and childish he was, Alfred tossed himself backward onto the bed. The sapphire sheets never seemed so inviting. He reached up and fiddled with one of the gold tassels that held the canopy aside, distracting himself from his lecture. If he threw a pillow, would he be able to hit the domed ceiling? Or maybe just the golden crowning? He could hit the door to the balcony from here for sure. How many pillows would it take to fill the room? Probably a few hundred. Could he fit a hundred in his personal room? It was already stuffed with blankets and pillows from the last heat, so he could probably fit a good fifty or so more.

"Alfred, are you paying attention?!" Arthur growled, approaching the side of the bed.

"I get it, I get it, I get it, alright?" Alfred grumbled, curling up on his side and finding a way to nuzzle under the blankets. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Couldn't Arthur just accept that?

Frowning, Arthur managed to wiggle his way under the blankets as well. He curled up behind Alfred, wrapping him up in an embrace and kissing the back of his neck. "Please, love, I just want you safe." He insisted, his voice much softer, his scent warm and sweet and comforting. Alfred truly was the top priority, and in that, protecting Alfred came first as well. "Can you imagine what it would be like if someone found out...? All the years of trying to keep it a secret... The generations before us swore their lives to protecting this secret..."

Alfred shivered slightly, snuggling back up against Arthur and holding on to the other's arms. "...Artie, I...I don't feel comfortable going to Clover." He admitted quietly. "I-I'm not afraid- no! Only babies get afraid. I'm not afraid, just- i don't like the color green."

"...Alfred, my eyes are green."

"N-Not that shade! I like your green, not the Clover green." Alfred quickly clarified, "And you don't have it absolutely everywhere. Blue and purple are much better than green and more green." He insisted, and then after a long pause added, "...I think Ivan is onto us." He could feel it. He had this inkling that he couldn't shake, and if he'd ever admit to being nervous, it would likely be now. But not out loud of course! Only in his head, where only he could hear it.

Arthur let out a breath, holding onto his mate tighter. "I won't let him hurt you, alright?" He cooed into the other's ear, then went about rubbing his cheek against the King's neck, strengthening his scent to soothe him. It worked, and visibly too, as the tenseness in Alfred's shoulders slowly melted away. "I swear to Mother Spade that you will be safe as long as I am with you."