The shower steamed around him, the tiles slick with condensation, the hum of ether-heated water filling the marble chamber. Gabriel braced one hand against the wall, head bowed under the spray, letting the heat wash away the ache Damian had left behind.

And there was plenty to wash away.

He laughed under his breath, sharp and incredulous all at once. 'Why in all hells did I say yes to an alpha who knots more than twice in a night and is arrogant enough to prove it?'

His neck still carried the faint bruising of Damian's teeth, the bond mark burning with a heat that hadn't dulled even with years of claiming. His hips and thighs bore their own reminders, the kind he'd conceal beneath silk and robes before the ministers ever dared to meet his eyes.

Yet instead of exasperation, amusement curled through him. He'd wanted this.

The bathroom door slid open with a muted hiss. Gabriel didn't turn, but he felt the shift in the air. Damian leaned against the frame, shirt undone, golden eyes still sharp even in the lazy light of morning.

"You're laughing at yourself again," Damian murmured, voice low, knowing.

Gabriel tilted his head back into the spray, a smirk curving his lips. "I'm wondering why I agreed to let an alpha with your stamina try to prove a point."

Damian's mouth curved into something wicked and unrepentant. "Because you wanted another child. And because you wanted me to make sure of it."

Gabriel's laugh spilled out, muffled by steam, sharp even in its softness. "Or perhaps I simply underestimated how infuriatingly arrogant you can be when you think you're right."

Damian stepped closer, the heat of his body cutting through the mist, his hand sliding to Gabriel's waist. "Arrogant, perhaps. But effective." His thumb brushed lightly across Gabriel's hip, where last night still lingered. "You said yes. And I'll never let you forget it."

Gabriel finally turned his head, meeting that burning gold with eyes bright and dangerous in their own way. "Oh, I won't forget. My body won't let me."

Damian's laugh was low, satisfied, before he bent to press a kiss against Gabriel's wet temple. "Good."

Gabriel shook his head, amused even as he leaned into the touch, letting Damian's presence settle over him like fire against water. "Five, you said. You'll be lucky if I survive two."

"Two for now," Damian corrected, utterly relentless. "But I am patient. And very persuasive."

Gabriel's laughter echoed off the marble, cutting clean through the steam, sharp and amused and entirely his own.

Damian stepped into the shower, the space shrinking instantly under the heat of his body and the burn of his golden gaze. He crowded him back against the slick tile, water running in sheets over both of them.

"Damian…" Gabriel started, sharp amusement edging his voice.

But the Emperor cut him off with a kiss, hard and claiming, his hand sliding down Gabriel's hip, grip firm enough to leave no question.

Gabriel laughed into the kiss, sharp and breathless all at once, even as Damian lifted him effortlessly, pressing him tighter against the wall. "You're impossible."

Damian's knot pressed against him, arrogant as ever. "I'm thorough."

And as the water poured down, steam rising around them like mist off molten gold, Gabriel realized he wasn't just being reminded; he was being marked into memory all over again.

The steam curled thick around them, water sluicing down the marble, drowning out everything but the press of Damian's body.

Gabriel's nails scraped down his shoulders, leaving faint crescents that the water could not wash away. His laugh slipped out between their mouths, sharp and breathless. "You're mad…"

Damian's teeth caught his lower lip, golden eyes burning as he thrust deeper, knot swelling, locking them tight against the wall. His voice came low, fierce, reverberating against Gabriel's skin. "Mad for you."

The wards in the walls hummed faintly, bond answering, amplifying the surge of ether between them until the shower itself seemed to tremble with the force of it.

Gabriel gasped, then bit back another laugh, half defiance, half surrender. "You'll ruin me for court…"

Damian silenced him with another bruising kiss, his grip iron at Gabriel's hip. "Good. Let them see who you belong to."

The words struck harder than the thrusts, and Gabriel broke against him, nails digging in, his laughter swallowed into something raw and unguarded.

—

By mid-afternoon, the palace study had been turned into a chaos of its own. Papers lay neatly stacked at one end of Gabriel's desk, but the rest of the room was conquered by a six-year-old prince and two women with more determination than restraint.

Arik knelt over a wide slate, the surface glowing faintly with ether-light as his drawings sprawled in every direction: crooked towers, beasts with too many teeth, and a family of stick figures crowned with gold halos. Irina sat cross-legged beside him, gamely holding the color stylus whenever Arik decided she wasn't using it fast enough. Alexandra, resplendent in a gown entirely unsuited for crawling on the carpet, crouched anyway, her pale green eyes narrowed in ferocious concentration as she tried to correct the prince's interpretation of her hairstyle.

"Arik," she huffed, "my hair does not look like a haystack."

Arik scowled at her without looking up, golden eyes flashing. "It does when you shout."

Irina snorted, trying and failing to hide it behind her hand.

From his chair, Gabriel shifted and stifled a wince. His body protested every movement, a low, satisfying ache that curled through him like proof. He could have asked for the physician's creams or could have erased the soreness with a dose of ether-stabilized relief. But no. He preferred it. He liked remembering. It was a pain sharpened by amusement, tied to last night's fire.

He leaned back, robe loose around him, fingers resting lightly against the arm of the chair as he watched the chaos on the floor. His lips curved faintly. "You do realize," he said, voice smooth despite his exhaustion, "that neither of you is going to win against him."

Alexandra shot him a look, dramatic as ever. "I am Marchioness of Lancaster. I do not lose to children with styluses."

"Mm." Gabriel's eyes slid to Arik, who had just scrawled another crown across his own head, larger than anyone else's. "Tell that to my son, who already knows the art of spite."

Irina laughed softly, glancing up at him. "You sound tired, Your Excellency."

Gabriel tilted his head against the chair's rest, a smirk tugging faintly at his mouth. "I am sore, Irina. Not tired."

Her cheeks flushed, eyes widening, but Alexandra barked a laugh, delighted. "Oh, Saints. Damian has ruined you, hasn't he?"

Gabriel only sipped from his untouched coffee, ignoring the wince in his muscles, his smirk turning sharp. "Completely."

At that exact moment, the study door slid open. Damian stepped in, crisp uniform immaculate despite the heat, his golden eyes sweeping the room once before finding Gabriel. The faintest curve touched his mouth as he took in the sight: his mate reclined in studied indolence, their son triumphant with color-stains across his hands, Alexandra halfway to war over her portrait, and Irina too flustered to meet Gabriel's gaze.

"Comfortable?" Damian asked, his voice carrying the weight of a question and a private joke.

Gabriel met his eyes across the room, sharp and amused, even as the ache curled deeper through him. "Immensely."