CHAPTER 501: CHAPTER 495: FAMILIAL CHAOS

Damian’s hum steadied the air, golden eyes catching on Orfeo before flicking to the children swarming around the crib. "You’ll wake him if you keep squabbling."

Arik winced at the rebuke but recovered quickly, chin lifting with princely defiance. "But Uncle Max said Noah is eating biscuits without me. That’s unfair."

Max raised both hands in mock surrender. "Not my fault Adam spoils him more than all of you combined. Noah had three in his hands when I left."

"Three?" Arik groaned as though personally betrayed, while Cecil murmured, practical as ever, "He’ll get a stomach ache."

Rowena, still clutching the edge of the crib, puffed herself up. "Then I’ll eat them for him. Problem solved."

Gabriel let his head tip back against the couch cushion with a low groan. "Wonderful. A household of strategists. By the time Orfeo can crawl, you’ll all be plotting coups."

"Already are," Max said cheerfully, crouching down to grin at his nephew. "Look at him. Alexandra’s eyes, but definitely your glare."

Gabriel didn’t move. "Max, if you assign any more features to yourself or my sister, I’ll let Damian throw you out."

Damian’s silence was eloquent enough; the faint lift of his brow promised he wouldn’t hesitate. Max only smirked wider.

Across the room, Alexander had claimed the armrest near Irina, his posture deceptively relaxed, though one hand rested against the back of her chair like he’d personally fight off the palace walls if they dared breathe wrong. Irina noticed, of course, her lips twitching.

"Don’t let him fool you," she told Alexandra and Gabriel, exhaling with mock weariness. "He hasn’t stopped pacing since I sneezed yesterday. I think the Shadows are about to mutiny."

Alexander’s golden-brown gaze slid her way, unrepentant. "You sneezed twice."

Irina threw up her hands. "See? Impossible."

Alexandra snorted. "Now that one of the commanders is here... where’s Rafael? Shouldn’t he be hovering too?"

Max’s grin sharpened instantly. "Hovering? He’s probably chasing their toddler out of the weapons room again. Poor Gregoris looked ready to surrender last time I saw him."

Gabriel’s brows lifted, humor flickering in his tired eyes. "The first commander of the Shadows, brought to his knees by a two-year-old. Fitting."

Alexander gave a small shrug, deadpan. "The child inherited his father’s aim. We’re all doomed."

Damian’s lips curved faintly, though his gaze lingered on the crib. "Gregoris begged me to assign him guard duty in the training yard this week. Claimed it was the only place he could think in peace."

Cecil, who had been quiet, blinked solemnly. "Because his son is louder than Uncle Max."

Rowena gasped as though such a thing were impossible. "No one is louder than Uncle Max!"

Max clutched his chest with mock offense. "Traitor. Et tu, Rowena?"

Arik smirked from his perch on the couch. "Maybe we should bring Noah and Rafael’s boy together. Then Uncle Max won’t be the loudest anymore."

Gabriel groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "Excellent. A future alliance between tyrants. Truly what the Empire needs."

Damian’s hand settled briefly over his, steady and warm, with the faintest rumble of amusement in his chest.

The wards gave another low stir before anyone could answer, and this time the door swung wide without ceremony.

Gregoris entered first, broad-shouldered, his usual shadow of a scowl softening only a fraction when his gaze landed on Irina. Rafael followed at his side, calm as ever, a slim folder in hand, though his other arm was burdened with a wriggling toddler who looked like Gregoris had been copied, shrunk, and given far too much willpower for his size.

Frederick had pale blond hair that gleamed almost white under the suite’s soft ether-light, steel-silver eyes sharp with intent, and a jaw already set like he was born ready to command. He wore soft indoor shoes that padded noiselessly against the carpet as Rafael set him down, though his presence hit heavier, a tiny flare of alpha ether rolling across the room like the world ought to take notice.

"Speak of the devils," Max drawled, one brow shooting up as he leaned against the doorframe. "Didn’t even bother mixing genes, did you? He’s Gregoris in miniature, minus the sword."

Frederick wasted no time. He barreled toward the crib with single-minded certainty, pressing both small hands against the edge and peering down at the bundled infant inside. His silver gaze narrowed, and with the authority of a much older man, he declared, "Mine."

The suite went silent for a single, stunned heartbeat. Then Alexandra laughed, sharp and delighted. Rowena gasped, clutching her curls as if struck. "No! He’s sitting next to me!"

Arik lit up instantly, golden eyes mischievous. "Looks like you’ll have to duel for him, Rowena."

Rowena rounded on him, scandalized. "He’s my cousin!"

"Exactly," Arik said, grin widening. "Allies fight harder."

Cecil sighed softly, silver gaze flicking toward his father. "Papa, they’re going to wake him."

Gregoris pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something low that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Rafael, completely unruffled, stepped forward to hand Damian the folder as though none of the chaos concerned him. "Reports from the north. And apparently, our son has claimed your son. My apologies."

Gabriel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Of course he has silver eyes. And of course the first thing he does is stake territory."

Gregoris gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "He gets it from Rafael."

Rafael’s mouth curved in a faint smile, calm and precise. "At least he has good judgment."

Alexandra laughed outright, bouncing Rowena lightly on her hip as the little girl pouted. "Gods, it’s worse than I thought. Between Orfeo’s eyes and Frederick’s attitude, our family dinners are going to be unbearable."

"Already are," Max said cheerfully, leaning an elbow on the back of the couch. "But at least now we’ve got a next generation of tyrants to keep it entertaining."

Arik leaned closer to peer down at Frederick, grin quick and sharp. "He’s small, but he looks like he could bite."

Frederick, as if understanding, smacked the crib again with his tiny palm and repeated firmly, "Mine."

Rowena gasped. "He’s not! He’s my cousin, and he sits with me."

Cecil exhaled quietly, with the tiniest shake of his head. "He’s three days old. He sits with no one."

Gabriel barked out a tired laugh, glancing heavenward as though searching for mercy. "Thank you, Cecil. Finally, a voice of reason."

Damian’s hand tightened briefly on his shoulder, golden eyes amused as he looked over the scene: children squabbling, commanders looking resigned, Alexandra smirking, and Max grinning far too wide. For a moment, even with the noise and chaos, the suite felt less like the heart of an empire and more like a very strange, very full living room.