Gabriel's hand stilled on the table, his coffee cooling in its cup. He didn't look away from those golden eyes, so sharp and certain in a face still rounded by youth. Almost six years old, and already carrying the shadow of a man the Empire had tried to erase.

Damian saw it too. He always did. His fingers brushed Gabriel's under the table, a grounding pressure, though his gaze was fixed on their son. "He has his own gravity," Damian murmured, voice low enough that only Gabriel and Edward could hear. "The world will bend to it whether they want to or not."

Edward inclined his head slightly, as though to confirm the thought without daring to put words to it. He was too careful to say the name aloud, not here, not even with the fountains masking their conversation. But the silence that followed was full of it.

Arik, oblivious to the weight his presence carried, wrinkled his nose and licked the last of the peach juice from his fingers. "Gravity's boring," he declared, swinging his legs under the chair. "I'll find secrets instead. Secrets are fun."

Gabriel laughed, soft and sharp at once, bending to wipe his son's sticky chin. "Spoken like a Lyon." He pressed a kiss to Arik's hair, though his eyes were already fixed on the Capital skyline again. "And like Goliath."

The name landed like thunder, though he had spoken it lightly, almost lazily, as if daring the air itself to carry it away.

Damian didn't flinch. His golden gaze stayed steady, burning in quiet agreement.

Edward, however, drew in a careful breath, setting the case more firmly on the table. "Then the sooner Gregoris's men return, the better. If we can recover even a handful of fragments… it may give you more than speculation to hold onto."

Gabriel leaned back, drawing Arik closer against his side, fingers idly smoothing the boy's hair. "Speculation is what they burned. Proof is what they buried. And proof," his mouth curved, razor-thin, "is what we'll dig out of Donnin if we have to tear the ridges stone by stone."

Damian's hand closed over Gabriel's wrist, steady and fierce all at once. "We will."

And between them, Arik beamed, proud of a vow he didn't yet understand, golden eyes catching the light like fire waiting to be unleashed.

—

Gabriel lingered at his bedside, brushing a curl of dark hair back, letting his hand rest for a moment against the warmth of his son's crown. In sleep, there was no trace of the sharpness in those golden eyes, only innocence, unbothered by the storms his birth had already unleashed.

Damian waited in the doorway, arms folded, his gaze steady. When Gabriel finally joined him, they stepped into the corridor, the door closing softly behind them.

For a moment, they walked in silence, the sound of their steps muffled against stone. Then Gabriel exhaled slowly. "It shows more every day."

Damian didn't ask what he meant. He never had to. "Yes."

Gabriel's hand brushed his sleeve, quiet tension in the touch. "If we're right, if what we see in him is true, then one day it will come back to him. He deserves to grow without that weight."

Damian's jaw tightened, but his voice was even, resolute. "He'll remember in his own time, if memory still clings to him. Until then, we say nothing. We let him be Arik, our son, nothing more."

Gabriel stopped, turning to face him fully, eyes sharp in the glow of the corridor wards. "And if someone else sees it first? If they look into his eyes and recognize what we've kept silent?"

Damian's golden gaze burned, fierce enough to cut the air. "Then they won't live long enough to speak it. I'm not going to let anyone touch my family."

For a moment, the weight of the vow hung heavy between them. Gabriel's shoulders eased by a fraction, his voice quieter now. "Good. Because I won't let them shape him into something he isn't."

Damian stepped closer, his hand firm against the back of Gabriel's neck, grounding him. "They won't. He'll be Arik first. And only when he's ready, whatever else he carries."

Gabriel let his eyes fall shut for a breath, the pressure of Damian's hand against his neck steadying the quiet storm still twisting through him. For all his sharp words, for all the iron composure he wore at court, it was this, the anchor of Damian's touch, that stripped the weight from his lungs.

When he opened his eyes again, gold met dark brown in the half-light, and something softened in both. Gabriel's hand rose almost of its own accord, catching at the lapel of Damian's coat, tugging him closer with a whisper of defiance. "You always make it sound so simple."

Damian's mouth curved in that smile that made Gabriel's heart flutter. He dipped his head until their foreheads brushed, the faint crackle of the wards casting shadows across their joined silhouettes. "Because it is. I don't bend when it comes to you, Gabriel. Or him. The Empire can turn to ash before I let either of you be touched."

Gabriel's lips parted, a sharp retort caught at the edge of his tongue, but the words faltered under the heat in those golden eyes. He breathed Damian in instead, the faint trace of smoke and steel threading with the darker pull of alpha pheromones that curled low in his chest. "One day," he murmured, softer now, "your certainty will burn us both."

Damian's thumb brushed the hollow of his throat, possessive but unbearably tender. "Do you mind?" he asked, voice low and dangerous, meant for Gabriel alone.

Gabriel's throat bobbed under the stroke of Damian's thumb, the question far more dangerous than the touch.

His lips curved, dry amusement masking the surrender in his chest. "If I minded, you'd know."

The corner of Damian's mouth lifted, golden eyes gleaming in the muted wardlight. His hand slid from Gabriel's throat to lace their fingers instead, the warmth of his palm a silent claim. "Then I'll keep burning."

Their steps resumed, the long corridor stretching ahead, shadows pooling in the grooves of carved stone. Neither spoke further, yet the silence was thick with the vow that had passed between them. The guards at the far end bowed low and stepped aside, the great doors opening without command.

Damian guided him through, their hands still joined, into the hush of their chambers. Velvet curtains stirred faintly in the breeze from the terrace, the faint scent of night air folding into the darker pull of Damian's pheromones.

Gabriel paused just inside, gaze sliding over the dim-lit room before settling back on the man at his side. "And if one day," he said softly, "I decide you burn too bright for either of us?"

Damian turned, crowding him gently against the heavy door that had just closed behind them. His hand braced at Gabriel's jaw, the fire of his eyes cutting through shadow. "Then I'll dim for the world. But never for you."

Gabriel's breath caught, then escaped on a laugh that was too sharp to be tender, too fond to be anything else. "You and your impossible vows."

"Not impossible," Damian murmured, mouth brushing close, his certainty curling through the air like smoke. "Unbreakable."

Gabriel finally tilted his chin, giving way to the kiss that followed.