CHAPTER 499: CHAPTER 493: THE IRONY OF FATE

By the time the palace wards thrummed with their summer pulse, marking another season’s turn, Gabriel’s patience was spent. His body was heavy again, the curve of late pregnancy slowing even his sharp strides, exhaustion sharpening his tongue into something Damian endured with the smug patience of a man who’d been here twice before.

"Don’t look at me like that," Gabriel snapped one morning when he caught Damian’s golden gaze lingering as he tried to lower himself into a chair.

"Like what?" Damian asked mildly, crossing the study with a glass of water he had no intention of letting Gabriel refuse.

"Like you’ve won," Gabriel muttered, bracing his hands against the armrests, irritation flashing across his face when his body refused to cooperate as quickly as his mind demanded.

Damian placed the glass in his hand before he could object further, crouching with the same calm authority he used in council. "I have won. Twice before. This will be the third."

Gabriel’s brown eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching despite his scowl. "You’re insufferable."

"And you’re radiant," Damian replied, steady, as though the words were not flattery but fact. His hand brushed over Gabriel’s knee, grounding him the way he always did. "Even when you’d like to throw me from the balcony."

"Don’t tempt me," Gabriel muttered, though the bite in his tone was softened by the warmth threading into his gaze.

Damian’s mouth curved, the faintest tug of amusement breaking his otherwise molten composure. "If you threw me, you’d have to explain to the council why the Emperor was found in the gardens instead of his study."

Gabriel took a long sip of water, deliberately slow, his eyes never leaving Damian’s. "I’d tell them you finally decided to touch grass."

Damian huffed out a laugh, straightening to his full height. "And they would believe it, because you said it."

"Good," Gabriel murmured, setting the glass aside with more force than necessary. "At least someone listens to me in this palace."

Damian leaned down then, bracing a hand on the chair’s armrest, golden eyes close enough to catch the fire still sparking in Gabriel’s gaze. "Everyone listens to you. I only make certain they also obey."

Gabriel tilted his head, his smirk sharp but weary at the edges. "You make it sound like I’m the tyrant."

Damian’s hand slid to cover his once more, warm and unyielding. "If you were, I’d let you."

The silence stretched, steady as the wards’ pulse, until the study door creaked open without so much as a knock.

Cecil barreled in first, curls tousled from sleep despite it being well past morning, clutching a wooden puzzle piece in one hand like a weapon. "Papa, Arik said I cheated," he announced at full volume.

Arik followed at a slower, steadier pace, dark head high, golden eyes already sharp with practiced seriousness. "He did cheat," Arik said simply, voice calm but edged with the same iron that always made Damian’s mouth twitch with pride.

Gabriel sighed, tilting his head back against the chair with the air of a man defeated by his own progeny. "I should have thrown myself from the balcony years ago."

Damian straightened, golden gaze sweeping over the boys as if they were another council delegation. "Explain."

Cecil stomped a small foot. "I didn’t cheat. I just moved faster."

"You hid pieces under the cushion," Arik countered, cool and merciless.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Four years old and already a criminal."

Cecil turned wide brown eyes on him, lower lip jutting out. "I’m not a criminal. Smart."

Damian’s mouth curved, the amusement he had restrained earlier finally breaking free. "Chaos," he said, crouching to take the piece from Cecil’s hand. "Just like your mother."

Gabriel shot him a withering look, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "You’re insufferable."

"And you are radiant," Damian answered smoothly, setting the puzzle piece on the desk before reaching to ruffle Cecil’s curls. "Finish the game properly, and no more hiding pieces."

Arik gave a solemn nod, satisfied with the verdict. Cecil, however, scrambled onto Gabriel’s lap without hesitation, curls brushing against his chin as he burrowed in with the ease of a child who feared nothing in this palace.

Gabriel’s hand came up automatically to steady him, exhaling a soft huff that was equal parts annoyance and surrender. "I’ll never get up again at this rate."

—

When the birth came, it came hard. Hours stretched into what felt like days, ether lamps burning steady as shadows lengthened across the chamber. Damian never moved from his side, golden eyes unblinking, hand locked tight around Gabriel’s even as Gabriel cursed him, cursed fate, and cursed the empire itself for daring to expect this of him. Even when he was the one asking for a third.

The physicians worked in silence save for clipped instructions, their movements steady, their faces unreadable under the glow of wards layered for safety. The air itself seemed to hum, saturated with ether threads meant to steady pulse and breath, to ease the storm wracking Gabriel’s body.

"Breathe," Damian murmured, voice molten steel, bracing against the wave of Gabriel’s fury.

"I am breathing," Gabriel snapped back through clenched teeth, sweat slicking his temple, his brown eyes burning even through the haze of pain. "I’m also reconsidering every choice I ever made with you."

Damian’s mouth curved, the faintest shadow of a smile breaking the hard line of his jaw. "You’ll forgive me by morning."

"Don’t count on it." Gabriel’s grip tightened painfully around his hand, enough to make bone creak.

Then, at last, the air shifted. The physician’s voice cut the silence, steady and calm, but carrying the weight of relief.

"An alpha son. Healthy."

The child’s cry followed, raw and defiant, the kind of cry that filled the chamber like a battle standard. He was bundled swiftly and placed against Gabriel’s chest, his small body hot as a coal through the layers of linen.

Gabriel, hair plastered to his temples, forced his eyes open. He blinked once, twice, then let his gaze narrow as if even newborns weren’t immune to his judgment.

Black hair. Warm black. Damian’s black.

But when the baby squinted against the lamplight, blinking blearily, the eyes that opened were pale green. Alexandra’s eyes.

For a long moment, Gabriel just stared. Then his head dropped back against the pillows, and a hoarse, incredulous laugh tore from him. "Unbelievable. I endure this agony, and what do I get? Her eyes? Alexandra will never let me live this down."

The physician cleared his throat, valiantly holding on to professionalism, though his shoulders twitched suspiciously.

Damian, meanwhile, had the audacity to look smug, golden gaze glinting as he brushed a thumb against Gabriel’s damp temple. "You wanted one to look like you. And now you’ve got your sister staring at me from a crib. That should satisfy you."

Gabriel groaned, dragging a hand down his face before pressing a tired kiss to the baby’s dark hair. His voice came hoarse but still sharp. "No. Absolutely not. This doesn’t count. We’re trying again."

That nearly cost the physician his composure. He coughed into his sleeve, murmuring something about postnatal rest while carefully avoiding Gabriel’s glare.

Damian only laughed, low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through the room like molten steel cooling in water. "Stubborn consort," he murmured, leaning close enough that only Gabriel caught the warmth beneath the taunt. "Let me know when you’ve recovered enough to make good on that threat."