Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

Later that afternoon, Gabriel's study was quieter than usual, not because the palace beyond had stilled, but because he had decided it would. The heavy oak doors remained closed, the outer office emptied under the pretext of "uninterrupted work hours." In truth, the interruption was already sitting on his desk, neatly stacked and bound in the cream vellum that only came from Damian's imperial secretariat.

The agenda was an immaculate trap. Tucked between trade agreements and infrastructure funding was a new task, written in the secretary's sharp hand but carrying the unmistakable weight of Damian's authority: Coronation—proposed date: eight weeks from present.

Gabriel's jaw tightened, the muscles in it pulling just enough to betray his mood. He didn't need a crown to be Empress, not in authority, not in practice. Since Arik's birth, he had wielded that power without all the ceremony, without processions, without drowning in court etiquette. Waiting had suited him.

Alexandra sat opposite him, legs tucked under her in a way that would have scandalized every etiquette tutor they'd ever endured. Rafael and Irina were perched farther down the table, quietly reviewing the week's correspondence until Alexandra's brow rose in faint amusement.

"Let me see," she said, plucking the agenda from Gabriel's desk without asking. She skimmed the page before finding the folded slip tucked inside. Damian's handwriting was as clean and elegant as his speeches. She read it aloud:

'If I gave you more time, there wouldn't be a coronation.'

Alexandra smiled, slow and knowing. "At least he's honest."

Gabriel's gaze fixed on the page, his voice even but edged. "I told him I wanted to wait…"

"Until the Empire was stable," Alexandra finished. "Which, apparently, it now is. You're out of excuses."

"It's not excuses," Gabriel countered. "It's strategy."

Irina, who had been pretending to reread her letter pile, tilted her head. "With all due respect, Your Grace, the court already has enough to whisper about. You marked the Emperor. It's only a matter of time before they realize you are not the only one wearing a bond mark."

She paused, but before she could say anything else, Rafael's voice broke the quiet, carrying the kind of weight only another omega could fully appreciate.

"You marked your alpha?" Rafael leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as if trying to reconcile the image of Gabriel he knew with the enormity of what Irina had just said. "Why am I even surprised?" he murmured, though the faint curve of his mouth betrayed something closer to admiration than shock.

An omega marking an alpha was rare enough to make the Imperial Archives flag the record for preservation. It could only happen if the alpha accepted willingly, and even then, the bond locked them together in a way even the most advanced ether-assisted fertility tech couldn't bypass. Children could only ever be conceived between them, no matter the medical interventions. In a court where bloodlines were as much currency as the energy grids that powered the Empire, it was the kind of move that rearranged the board.

"What? I'm giving you ideas?" Gabriel smirked, hinting at the strained push-and-pull relationship between Gregoris and Radael.

Rafael's brow arched, but his voice stayed smooth. "Not ideas… confirmation. I was starting to think no one in this palace still knew how to make the court panic without firing a single shot."

Irina hid a smile behind the edge of her letter. "Oh, they'll panic. Half of them will call it a romantic tragedy; the other half will see it as you locking the imperial line in place."

Alexandra leaned back in her chair, watching Gabriel with unabashed amusement. "And the allies?"

"They'll applaud," Rafael said without hesitation. "Even the ones who don't like you will admire the efficiency. An unshakable bond and an heir already walking around? No room for negotiation."

Gabriel's smirk deepened, though he made a show of glancing back to the agenda. "Then I suppose Damian's little coronation stunt isn't entirely without merit."

"Little?" Alexandra snorted. "He's about to turn the Empire's social feeds into a three-day meltdown. You'll be trending before the ink dries."

Gabriel didn't look up. "I'll survive."

Rafael chuckled. "So will the Emperor. Which is why the rest of us should be very afraid."

Before Gabriel could reply, the door opened without a knock. Damian stepped inside with the quiet precision of someone who already knew the conversation he was walking into, a data tablet in one hand and the faintest curve of amusement on his mouth.

"Which conversation is this?" he asked mildly, his gaze sweeping over Alexandra's lazy sprawl, Irina's thinly veiled curiosity, and Rafael's wolfish amusement and finally landing on Gabriel, as if the others were only scenery.

"The one about your Empress's coronation," Rafael said before Gabriel could intercept. "And about how the court's going to react when they realize your mate marked you."

Damian didn't so much as blink. "They'll react exactly as they always do, badly, and too late to matter."

Irina leaned forward, chin propped on her hand. "So you did accept it right away?"

Damian's golden eyes slid to her, then back to Gabriel, his mouth curving just enough to make Alexandra groan. "You make it sound like I had a choice."

Gabriel's lips curved in return. "You did. You just made the correct one."

Alexandra threw up her hands. "You two are insufferable."

Damian moved to stand beside Gabriel's chair, resting one hand on the backrest in a gesture casual only to the untrained eye. "If I recall," he said, his voice pitched low, "you didn't exactly warn me first."

"I didn't think you'd hesitate," Gabriel replied smoothly.

"I didn't." Damian's smirk deepened, the quiet finality in his tone leaving no room for doubt. "And so you won't hesitate with the coronation and marriage."

Gabriel's brows rose, the shift subtle but enough for Alexandra to lean forward like she'd just been handed front-row tickets. "That's not the same thing."

"It is," Damian said simply, the words landing like fact rather than suggestion. "The bond is already there; the heir is already here. The rest are formalities, ones I won't let drag another year."