Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

The day wore on in a blur of glowing holo-screens, deadlines blinking red, and Edward's infuriatingly polite reminders. By the time Arik escaped his office, he felt wrung out, still Crown Prince, still upright, but with the kind of exhaustion that came from drowning in minutiae rather than battle.

He found Damian in one of the palace's private lounges, jacket discarded over the arm of a chair, golden eyes scanning a set of reports of his own. The Emperor glanced up as his son entered, one brow lifting at the sight of Arik's expression.

"Survived?" Damian asked dryly.

Arik collapsed into the opposite chair, latte in hand, warm black hair still damp from a second shower meant to shake off the headache. "Barely. I'm starting to think assassins are kinder than ledgers."

Damian chuckled low, setting his tablet aside. "Gabriel warned you."

Arik groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "He didn't warn me. He orchestrated my suffering. Do you know how many separate annexes there are for ether storage standards? Do you?"

"Too many," Damian admitted, smirking. "Which is why I don't read them."

"Exactly!" Arik sat up, golden eyes flashing. "That's the point. He picked it because it's impossible to brute-force. No shortcuts, no conquering it in a single night. Just slow, relentless torture. He weaponized paperwork."

Damian's grin widened, pride and amusement mingling. "And you're only realizing now how petty your mother can be?"

Arik pointed his coffee cup at him, exasperated. "Petty" isn't the word. He's vindictive. Brilliant, yes, but vindictive. This isn't about my training, Father. This is punishment for unlocking the ward and not telling him. I can see it now."

Damian leaned back, golden eyes gleaming as though he'd been waiting for this admission. "Good. Then you understand. Gabriel doesn't punish with fire or chains. He punishes with the things you least want to face. He knows you too well."

Arik slumped again, muttering into his latte. "He could have just yelled at me."

Damian laughed, the sound sharp and fond. "You'd have brushed it off. This? You'll remember every time you see an audit file for the rest of your life."

Arik groaned, but the reluctant grin tugging at his mouth betrayed him. "Gods. He's terrifying."

Damian raised his glass in a mock toast. "That's why I married him."

Damian swirled the amber liquid in his glass, golden eyes fixed on his son. "So. You've learned how your mother punishes. Now tell me, do you want revenge on Wrohan's Grand Prince?"

Arik stilled, fingers tightening around his cup. The light from the ether strips caught in his golden eyes, turning them molten. "Felix." He said the name without heat but with the kind of weight that promised patience sharpened into a blade.

Damian arched a brow. "Yes."

Arik leaned back in his chair, the latte forgotten in his hand, expression calm in a way that unsettled more than any outburst could. "I will. But not in a hurry. I don't need to throw armies at him or burn his house down to prove a point. Not this time." His gaze lifted, sharp as a knife sliding free. "There's no need for innocents to suffer because of one man. He doesn't deserve such a grand removal."

Damian's grin spread, slow and dangerous, though pride flickered beneath it. "Taking your time. Making him bleed by inches instead of fire."

Arik's lips curved, half smile, half promise. "Exactly. When I move, it will be clean. And he will know it's me. He'll know it's for every choice he made, every consequence he thought he'd escaped."

Damian laughed, deep and unrestrained, the sound rolling like thunder across the quiet room. "Gods. Gabriel's nature is rubbing off on you. He'll be proud. Vindictive, meticulous, patient… oh yes, you're his son."

Arik smirked into his cup, golden eyes gleaming. "I was always his son. Even when I didn't remember."

Damian raised his glass, grin fierce. "Then Felix should start praying now."

Arik clinked his latte against his father's glass, unhurried, calm. "Let him. It won't save him."

The lounge was warm with low laughter, father and son circling vengeance as though it were a fine wine. Arik was still smirking into his latte when the wards at the door stirred.

Damian looked up, expecting one of the aides. Instead, Edward entered, but not the immaculately pressed aide they were used to. His jacket was crooked, his tie loose, and his usually impassive face slack with exhaustion. He crossed the room, collapsed into an armchair without ceremony, and let out a sigh that belonged to a man witnessing the end of days.

"This is it," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "This is how I die."

Damian and Arik exchanged a startled look.

"Edward?" Damian's golden eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Edward dragged a hand down his face. "His Imperial Majesty is pregnant." A pause, then: "…With twins."

For a moment, silence pressed thick as stone.

Damian groaned, tipping his head back, one hand covering his eyes. "Of course. Of course fate would side with him." His voice was rich with exasperation and resignation both. "We agreed three are enough. His body's already carried too much. But not planned conception?" His hand slid down his face as he muttered, "Apparently that's the exception."

Arik froze, golden eyes wide. His cup clinked against the saucer, nearly slipping from his fingers. "Twins?" His voice cracked, panic rushing in where humor had been only a heartbeat ago. "But, that could hurt him. He already…" He cut himself off, jaw clenched, breath shallow.

Damian's gaze flicked to him, sharp, catching the raw edge in his son's voice.

Edward groaned again, slumping deeper into the chair. "Twins, Your Highness. Which means double security, double wards, double schedules, and double Gabriel. Do you know what it takes to keep one imperial pregnancy from burning the palace down? Two?" He flung his hand toward the ceiling. "I should resign now."

Arik barely heard him. His mind raced with images of Gabriel pale and exhausted, the faint lines beneath his eyes after Orfeo's birth, the sharp strength he forced through even when his body faltered. Arik's chest tightened until he muttered, almost to himself, "He'll burn himself hollow."

Damian sighed, lowering his hand, the faintest smile curving his mouth despite the groan still lingering in his chest. "That's Gabriel. He was born to spite the odds. You'll learn that soon enough."

Arik dragged his hands through his hair, half-panicked, half-overwhelmed. "I love him, Father. But twins? After everything? He'll laugh at us for worrying and then work twice as hard."

Damian chuckled low, shaking his head. "Yes. And he'll punish us with it, too." His golden eyes glinted with weary fondness. "Welcome to life with Gabriel. Fate bends for him, never the other way around."

Edward groaned again from the chair. "I'm still resigning."

Neither Damian nor Arik believed him.