Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

Frederick's steel gaze lingered on the Count long enough to make the man quake in the guards' grip. Then, with a faint flick of his hand, he stepped aside.

"Take him," he said, quiet and flat.

The guards obeyed instantly, hauling the Count from the hall, his protests dwindling into pitiful gasps before the doors closed on him.

The silence fractured, nobles rushing to fill it with brittle laughter and too-bright chatter, but the air never truly cleared. Every glance toward the imperial table carried a thread of unease now.

Frederick didn't linger on it. He rolled his shoulders back, the stiffness of command dropping from him as easily as a coat, and crossed the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. Ash-blond hair caught the ether-light, his steel eyes were unreadable until they softened, just slightly, when they found Cecil.

He dropped into the empty chair opposite Noah, posture loose, a faint, fleeting grin tugging at his mouth. "Enough of that," he said. "I came to a ball, not a courtroom. I'd rather spend the evening with you three."

Arik chuckled under his breath, golden eyes bright. "You missed the fun."

Frederick shrugged, unbothered. "I'll have better fun here."

Noah tipped his glass lazily, green eyes gleaming. "Smart choice. You don't want the nobles thinking you came to compete with Arik's fan club."

That earned Frederick a snort of laughter, low and dry, before he leaned back in his chair. The effect was immediate: the nobles who'd been circling Cecil retreated, whispering behind raised hands. No one wanted to be the next fool to draw steel eyes their way.

Cecil exhaled once. He didn't thank Frederick, but his gaze softened, just for a breath, before smoothing into neutrality again. Surrounded by Arik's fire, Noah's sly ease, and Frederick's quiet weight, the knot in his chest eased.

The court could circle all it liked. None of them would get close.

—

The murmur of the hall carried upward, a muted buzz beneath the soft hum of the balcony wards. Damian hadn't moved from the railing, golden eyes fixed on the table where their sons now sat together like they owned the room. Gabriel was beside him, a glass of wine balanced with careless elegance, his pale profile catching the ether-light like carved marble.

The door opened, boots striking quietly against the polished stone. Gregoris stepped onto the balcony, ash-blond hair pulled back with military precision, steel eyes sharp as ever. For a man who made even generals flinch, he looked almost reluctant to break the quiet.

He came to stand at their side, gaze falling to the hall below. Frederick had claimed a seat at the imperial table, shoulders relaxed, posture deceptively loose. The effect on the nobles was immediate; they shifted back like a tide, whispers breaking sharp as glass.

Gregoris exhaled through his nose. "I told him not to scare the courtiers too soon."

Gabriel's lips curved faintly, brown eyes warm with amusement as he sipped his wine. "He didn't have to. He only had to sit."

Damian chuckled low in his chest, short hair catching the light as he shook his head. "Your son doesn't know how not to terrify people. He gets it from you."

Gregoris glanced sidelong at him, unimpressed. "As if Arik doesn't have your temper. And Cecil…" his gaze flicked to the quiet boy at the table, posture composed, eyes sharp "he's more dangerous than both of them combined. He's just polite about it."

Gabriel laughed under his breath, pale fingers tapping once against his glass. "Polite. That's one word for it."

Below, the four boys sat together, the nobles scattering around them like stars bent out of orbit. To anyone else it looked like arrogance. To their parents and Gregoris, it looked natural.

Gregoris leaned his elbows against the railing, steel eyes fixed on the hall. "Frederick is young, but he knows where to sit and when to keep still. He'll learn subtlety before Arik ever does."

Gabriel's laugh was low, carrying a bite of pride. "Subtlety isn't Arik's strength. Performance, however…" He gestured with his glass toward where Arik lounged, golden eyes alive, drawing the room without even trying. "That, he's mastered."

Damian's mouth curved faintly. "It isn't just performance. Watch him."

Arik didn't posture like the other heirs. He didn't seek approval and didn't even notice the way omegas leaned toward him or the nobles whispered his name. He sat as though the hall already belonged to him, as though crowns and titles were things that would bend the instant he stood.

Gregoris's lips twitched into the faintest smile, dangerous for its rarity. "He moves like a man who's done this before."

Gabriel's brown eyes flicked toward him, sharp. "You mean…"

"The memories are locked," Gregoris said evenly, steel gaze still on Arik. "But instinct seeps through. The ward holds what he doesn't want to face. It can't blunt what's in his blood."

For a moment, silence pressed heavy between them. The chandeliers hummed overhead, the nobles whispered below, but on the balcony only the truth remained.

Gabriel exhaled slowly, setting his glass down with quiet precision. "He doesn't need to remember to be dangerous."

Damian's golden eyes burned as he watched his son laugh at something Cecil said, sharp and unbothered. "No. He's already himself. Goliath or Arik, it makes no difference. The empire will follow either way."

Gregoris gave a short, humorless chuckle. "And the fools think showering pheromones at Cecil is their path to power. They don't see what's right in front of them."

Gabriel's lips curved, elegant and cruel. "Let them keep underestimating him. I find it entertaining."

Damian's gaze softened only when it returned to Gabriel. "Hmm… He hides it well, but… Arik is remembering."

Gabriel didn't flinch. He only lifted his glass again, brown eyes glinting. "Then we will have to deal with it together."

Gregoris smirked faintly, steel eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "Good. Because when he realizes the full potential of it, it won't be just the nobles that tremble first. It'll be the entire world."