CHAPTER 468: CHAPTER 468: HONESTY

Dinner should have been comfortable. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic meal, familiar faces at a familiar table, nothing more than polite conversation and safe political lines. Instead, Dean sat there with a tight unease curling low in his stomach and the realization that every decision he had made in the previous twenty-four hours had been wrong. Even breathing felt like a risk.

The Alaminian envoy filled the opposite side of the dining table: council members in tailored modern uniforms, military representatives with perfectly pressed jackets, and diplomatic advisors who managed to look like they were already making assessments of Dean’s suitability as if this were a formal evaluation. Their silence felt intentional, heavy, and disciplined.

And then there was Arion.

The prince sat in the center, relaxed in a way that didn’t match the straight posture of those around him. His attention kept flicking back to Dean as though he found the entire situation quietly delightful. Every time Dean looked up, Arion’s golden eyes were already waiting for him, far too focused for comfort.

Dean tried to concentrate on his plate. He really did. But every movement from Arion settled over his nerves like static, and every shift of the envoy made him hyperaware of the fact that he was the reason they were all here.

To his right, Sirius, impeccably dressed, calmly composed, and very much the Emperor kept his expression neutral, but Dean could feel the tension under it. Sirius wasn’t pleased. He wasn’t outraged either. He was... calculating, watchful, and prepared to intervene if necessary.

To Dean’s left, Sebastian sat stiffly, exhaustion hanging over him like a second jacket. He looked like a man who’d been living in paperwork for thirty days straight and had lost faith in everyone at the table.

Across from them, Trevor and Lucas were not amused. Both had the expressions of people who recognized a dangerous political variable when they saw one. Trevor had gone into that still, controlled mode he used when something felt strategically unstable. Lucas kept watching Dean with a faint crease between his brows, as if silently checking whether he was about to bolt from the room.

Nothing about this dinner felt normal.

And the person who was enjoying that most was Arion Caelis Varn Alamina.

Conversation had barely begun when Arion set his utensils down with a soft, deliberate click. It wasn’t loud, but it silenced the table as cleanly as a command. His posture remained perfectly polite, shoulders relaxed, and chin lifted just slightly, formal enough to show respect, informal enough to show he was comfortable taking control.

"Since we are all gathered," Arion began, turning his gaze toward Sirius first before sliding it back to Dean, "I believe it is time to address the matter directly."

Sirius stilled. He didn’t interrupt, but the temperature of the room shifted just slightly, the way it always did when an emperor braced for a political strike.

Trevor’s fingers tightened around his glass. Lucas’s jaw flexed.

Dean tried to focus on breathing.

Arion’s voice remained calm. "For the past month, your administration has delayed formal introductions, postponed meetings, and redirected my delegation. I understand the desire to protect him," he nodded toward Dean, "but we cannot pretend there is another strategic option available. There is not."

Sebastian muttered something under his breath that Dean was glad he didn’t catch.

Sirius leaned back, expression unreadable. "Prince Arion, Palatine has every right to ensure the safety and comfort of its dominants. We were not gatekeeping..."

Arion cut him off, not rudely, but with the direct firmness that made every member of his envoy straighten. "You were. And I will not fault you for it. But the reality remains unchanged."

His gaze swept the table once more before settling entirely on Dean, as if he were the only person in the room who mattered.

"There is no other dominant alpha with established stability and compatible markers suitable for him."

Dean blinked, heat prickling the back of his neck. "Markers...? What markers?"

Sebastian rubbed his forehead. Sirius closed his eyes for the briefest second before looking at Arion again.

Trevor exhaled slowly. "He’s not wrong."

Lucas nodded once, reluctantly. "Most dominants don’t meet Dean’s thresholds."

Arion continued, his tone soothing, authoritative, and infuriating all at once. "My compatibility with Dean is documented, reviewed, and confirmed. There is no health risk. No genetic instability. No conflict in baseline dominance levels. And no world in which I would harm or endanger my omega."

Dean nearly choked. "I’m not... I’m not your..."

Arion didn’t even blink. "You are the intended spouse of my empire’s proposal."

Lucas made a soft, warning noise under his breath. Trevor stiffened, already bracing.

Sirius finally spoke again. "Prince Arion, compatibility is not the only factor. There are others who..."

Arion shook his head once. "You mean the Crown Prince of Saha."

Sirius hesitated, and that was all the confirmation Arion needed.

"He is not compatible with Dean," Arion said, tone flattening with absolute certainty. "His markers are unstable with dominants of Dean’s type. Your analysts know this. My analysts confirmed it. His own physicians would not approve the match."

Dean stared at him, stunned. "You know that?"

"I know everything relevant to your safety," Arion replied softly.

Trevor’s chair creaked.

Lucas set his glass down very carefully.

Even Sebastian looked up.

Arion remained unshakable. "There are no excuses left. No alternatives to present. No justifications to delay the decision further. I am the only viable candidate, and Palatine knows this."

The envoy behind him didn’t move, but there was a ripple of acknowledgment.

Sirius swallowed, visibly unhappy. "Even if that is true, the decision does not fall on you alone."

Arion’s gaze softened, warming again as he looked at Dean. "I am not here to force anything. But I will not accept being kept at a distance under the pretense of uncertainty when the facts are already clear."

Dean’s heart pounded hard enough to shake his ribs.

Arion leaned in slightly, just enough that Dean felt the attention like a touch.

"My only concern is that he is safe," Arion continued. "Safe, respected, and treated as the dominant he is. Alamina offers that. I offer that. And I will continue to offer it, with or without Palatine’s stalling."

No one spoke.

Sirius looked like he wanted to rewrite the laws of diplomacy right there at the dinner table.

Trevor looked ready to flip the table.

Lucas looked like he had fifteen thoughts and none of them were comforting.

Sebastian just whispered, "Oh thank god, it’s not me," under his breath.

And Dean?

Dean sat frozen, heat flooding his face, torn between indignation, confusion, and something unbearably vulnerable he refused to name.

Arion watched him, voice dropping just enough to be intimate without crossing any lines.

"You deserved honesty," he said. "So I gave it."