Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

The morning after, if you could call it that when the sun was already high, Gabriel lay sprawled across the bed like a man who had survived both a siege and a natural disaster, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. The sheets were a tangle around his hips, his hair mussed enough to suggest he'd been through several storms in quick succession.

"Close the curtains," he muttered to no one in particular. "Or better yet, close the world."

The muffled sounds of quiet efficiency drifted in from the edges of the room: the swish of fabric being stripped from the bed, the muted clink of glassware being gathered from the side table. The staff moved with practiced discretion, their faces politely blank as they aired out the thick, lingering scent of rut from the room. Someone cracked a window. Gabriel groaned like the noise itself was an insult.

In contrast, Damian stood by the window shirtless, in nothing but a pair of dark boxers, golden eyes catching the light. Arik was in his arms, perched on his hip, tiny fingers tugging happily at his father's hair. The baby's giggles filled the space with a sound far too bright for the wreckage that was Gabriel.

"You find this amusing?" Gabriel asked without moving his arm from his eyes, his voice hoarse but still edged with that dry bite.

Damian glanced over, the faintest curve to his mouth. "Yes."

Arik, as if taking sides, squealed again and patted Damian's jaw like a man congratulating himself for a job well done.

Gabriel finally peeked out from under his arm, dark eyes narrowing at the picture they made, Damian relaxed and smug, their son radiating pure delight, and the entire imperial staff studiously pretending they hadn't just spent the last ten minutes removing every trace of rut from the Emperor's private chambers.

"You're both conspiring against me," he said flatly.

Damian adjusted Arik against his chest. "We're just enjoying the morning."

"It's past noon," Gabriel pointed out, letting his head fall back into the pillows with a sigh that was all exhaustion and faint, lingering pleasure. "Two warlords against one innocent omega."

Damian's smirk deepened, slow and unhurried, like a man who had already won the battle and was simply savoring the aftermath.

"Innocent?" he echoed, the word tasting like disbelief. "You started this war."

Gabriel cracked one eye open, just enough to meet that molten gaze across the room. "I didn't think you'd have the stamina to conduct a siege that lasted two days."

"Then you underestimate me." Damian's voice was low, almost conversational, but the look in his eyes made it very clear he wasn't talking about military campaigns.

Arik chose that moment to babble something unintelligible, smacking Damian's cheek as if seconding the sentiment. Damian tilted his head toward their son.

"See? Even he agrees."

Gabriel huffed out something between a laugh and a groan, rolling onto his side and dragging a pillow halfway over his head. "Traitors. Both of you."

Damian only hummed in response, placing a soft kiss on his son's forehead; Arik still smelled like caramel.

That small, domestic scent, caramel and clean linen, clung faintly to the air around them, so at odds with the heavy musk the staff had been quietly banishing all morning.

"Tell me again. Why am I the only one sore?" Gabriel asked, the sound muffled by the pillow over his head.

"You are the only one complaining. I'm as sore as you." Damian's tone was maddeningly even, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a council meeting instead of the wreckage of the last two days.

Gabriel lowered the pillow just enough to squint at him, suspicion written in every line of his face. "You're standing there, holding a baby, looking like you've just had a morning sparring session. I can't even sit up without considering whether it's worth the risk to my spine."

"That sounds like a you problem," Damian said, shifting Arik higher on his hip. The baby cooed, oblivious to the verbal skirmish, and reached for his father's hair again.

Gabriel let out a slow, dramatic exhale and flopped back against the pillows. "Don't you have work to do?"

Damian's gaze flicked to him, golden and faintly amused, the kind of look that said 'you know better than to think I'm leaving.'

"Plenty," he said, adjusting Arik so the baby could clutch one of his fingers instead of his hair. "But this is more important."

Gabriel cracked an eye open. "Watching me suffer?"

"Watching you recover," Damian corrected, the words deceptively gentle. "You got Marin's injection two hours ago; you should be feeling better by now."

Gabriel made a small, noncommittal sound, half acknowledgment, half refusal to dignify Damian's hovering with an answer. He was just considering the merits of feigning sleep when the door opened with the quiet finality of someone who had long since stopped asking for permission.

Edward stepped inside, already immaculate in a charcoal suit, expression flat as ever. His gaze swept the room once, taking in the rumpled sheets, the freshly cracked windows, and the Emperor standing in nothing but boxers with the heir to the Empire chewing on his finger.

"Majesties." The bow was crisp, but the tone was pure ice. "It is… encouraging to find you both vertical."

Gabriel groaned softly, dragging the pillow over his face again. "Define vertical."

Edward ignored him entirely, moving further into the room. "You are expected to be seen today. Preferably in a state that does not invite commentary from the council… or the court physicians."

"I'm fine," Gabriel's voice came muffled from under the pillow.

"You are not fine," Edward replied, pulling the drapes wider as if sheer daylight would burn the exhaustion out of him. "You look like you lost a fight with an apex predator."

Damian's mouth curved faintly. "He started it."

Edward's eyes flicked to him, unimpressed. "And you, Sire, look like you won it twice."

Arik giggled then, as if agreeing with the assessment, and Edward's gaze softened fractionally before snapping back to his professional mask. "You have one hour. I will send someone with clothing, and for the love of the Empire, at least try to appear less like you've spent two days attempting to demolish each other."

"Attempting?" Gabriel muttered from under the pillow. "We succeeded."

Edward didn't dignify that with a response. He turned on his heel, already issuing orders to the staff outside the door.

The moment the latch clicked shut, Gabriel peeked out from under the pillow, eyes gleaming with quiet mischief. "I think he's still mad at you."

Damian only smirked, shifting Arik higher on his hip. "He'll live."