Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

Months slipped by, and the palace adjusted. Or rather, the palace tried to adjust.

Gabriel was calm. Too calm. Where his earlier pregnancies had been marked by flashes of sly moods sharpened by hormones, this time he seemed almost serene. He worked when he pleased, rested when he chose, and carried twins with the same elegance he wore to council sessions. His brown eyes stayed cool, unshaken, as though nothing in the empire could touch him.

Alexandra sat across from him in the sitting room, arms folded, her green eyes sharp with unease. Rowena, now fourteen, sprawled comfortably beside her, chin propped in her hand, watching her uncle with open curiosity.

"Part of me wants to applaud you," Alexandra said at last. "The other part thinks you're absolutely terrifying."

Gabriel didn't look up from the ether-blueprints spread across the table. His hand rested lightly over the swell of his stomach while the other moved with neat precision, correcting a flawed schematic. "Why choose? Both are true."

Rowena snorted, a grin tugging at her mouth. "He's right, Mother."

Alexandra groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

Irina, meanwhile, sat stiffly in her chair, both hands locked together in her lap. She had gone pale, eyes wide, as if Gabriel's calm composure offended nature itself.

"I had two pregnancies," she whispered, horrified. "And I swore never again. Twins? That's not fate, that's punishment. I couldn't survive it."

Gabriel hummed softly, still marking neat corrections across the blueprint. "Then don't. No one is forcing you."

Irina gaped at him. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is," Gabriel said calmly, finally glancing up, his brown eyes sharp and amused. "I chose this. You did not. That's the only difference."

Rowena grinned wider, nudging her mother's arm. "See? Terrifying and brilliant."

Alexandra shook her head, lips twitching despite herself. "You see why I'm torn? If it were me, I'd have broken every tea set in the palace by now."

"Your arm would give out after the first week," Gabriel replied smoothly.

Rowena burst into laughter at her uncle's dry jab, while Alexandra gasped in mock offense. Irina only pressed her hands harder together, muttering about gods and cruel fate.

Through it all, Gabriel remained unbothered, calm as the wards humming faintly around them, and steady as if even ether itself bowed to his composure.

The sitting room was a swirl of unease and laughter, with Alexandra caught between admiration and exasperation, Rowena grinning like a conspirator, Irina pale, and Gabriel as composed as ever with his pen scratching across blueprints.

The wards stirred again, opening for Rafael.

He stepped inside with the serenity of a man who had already lived through enough of Gabriel's antics to be immune. His dark suit was neat, his hair was smoothed back, and his eyes carried their usual calm focus. He paused only briefly at the threshold, taking in the scene.

"Ah," Rafael said lightly, setting his gloves on the side table. "So it's true."

Alexandra shot him a sharp look. "Don't start. We've barely survived the announcement."

Rowena grinned. "Uncle Rafael, you missed it. He's terrifying. Calm as if nothing's happening."

Rafael's lips curved faintly, as if that proved his point. He crossed the room, settled in a chair opposite Gabriel, and folded his hands neatly in his lap. "I expected nothing less. He's always terrifying when he's calm."

Irina made a strangled sound, pressing her hands harder together. "How can you all act like this is normal? Twins! It's madness."

"Madness," Rafael agreed mildly, glancing at her with polite sympathy. "But it's Gabriel. He's survived worse. So have we."

Gabriel finally looked up from his blueprint, brown eyes glinting with amusement. "You see, Irina? Rafael understands."

Rafael inclined his head, serene as ever. "Understanding is the only way to survive in this household."

Alexandra groaned into her hand, Rowena laughed again, and Gabriel returned to his notes without a flicker of concern.

—

The wards hummed softly, tuned low so as not to disturb the newest heirs. The room smelled faintly of ether sterilizers and lavender, softened with the warmth of fresh linens.

Gabriel reclined against a bank of cushions, pale and elegant even in recovery. This time he had given in to Marin's warnings and to Damian's insistence and accepted the C-section. The neat line of stitches beneath his nightshirt was a reminder of the last two heirs. He looked tired, yes, but unshaken, one hand resting lightly across his abdomen as he watched the crib beside him.

Two small bundles stirred within, the wards shimmering faintly over them. And for once, fate had bent to Gabriel's will.

The girl moved first, her tiny hand curling beneath her chin. Black hair already shadowed her head, soft but unmistakable, the same shade as Gabriel's. When her lids fluttered, the faintest glint of brown appeared beneath them; his eyes were carried forward whole. Beside her, her brother shifted restlessly, fists clenching as though he already demanded the world's attention. His face was delicate but sharp in its angles, a softened mirror of Gabriel's features. The same hair. The same eyes.

They were his.

Gabriel's lips curved faintly as he leaned back against the cushions, exhaustion softened by something rare: quiet triumph.

The door eased open, and Damian entered. Golden eyes went first to the crib, then to Gabriel, and for once, his steps faltered.

Gabriel's brown eyes glinted as he gestured lazily toward the children. "Go on. Look closely."

Damian bent over the crib, studying them. A low sound escaped him, half laugh, half groan, as realization sank in. "They're you."

"Finally," Gabriel murmured, amusement threading through his voice. "It only took four tries."

Damian straightened, running a hand through his cropped black hair, shaking his head with a laugh he couldn't quite contain. "Gods, the court won't know what to do with this. Two little Gabriels. Alphas, no less."

Gabriel hummed, serene as ever, though his lips curved in sharp satisfaction. "I told you, Damian. Probability bends eventually. It was only a matter of time."

Damian sat on the edge of the bed, golden eyes softened now, his hand closing firmly over Gabriel's. "You've given me too much."

Gabriel tilted his head, brown eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as he let his gaze drift back to the crib. "No. This time, fate gave something to me."

The door to the imperial suite opened again, this time without ceremony. Arik entered first, tall and composed, though his golden eyes betrayed a nervous tension he hadn't managed to shake since Edward's announcement. Cecil followed, his silver gaze cool, posture impeccable, already carrying himself with the poise of a young statesman. Orfeo, twelve and irrepressible, bounded in last with barely restrained energy, curiosity radiating from him.

They all stopped when they saw the crib.

Arik moved forward slowly, as though approaching something sacred. His gaze swept over the two small bundles, and then he froze. His breath caught, his expression shifting with shock, disbelief, and something like recognition.

"They look…" His voice trailed off, and for once the Crown Prince seemed at a loss.

"Like me," Gabriel finished dryly from the bed, his tone edged with smug amusement. He leaned back against the pillows, one hand resting against his abdomen. "Finally."

Orfeo scrambled up to peer into the crib, his green eyes wide. "They really do. Black hair, brown eyes, everything. They look exactly like you, Papa." He grinned, delighted. "Two mini-Gabriels."

Cecil stepped closer, folding his hands neatly behind his back. He studied the twins with the kind of precision that made him seem older than his years. His lips curved faintly, the closest he ever came to a smile. "Then the court will be unhinged. They already whisper enough about you. Now they'll see you multiplied."

Arik still hadn't moved. His gaze lingered on the girl, then the boy, then back to Gabriel. "You always said you wanted one with your face." His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "And now you have two."

Gabriel's expression softened, if only slightly, his brown eyes catching Arik's golden ones. "Yes. Two. Fate owed me."

Damian chuckled low, sitting close at Gabriel's side. "You should see your son's face. He looks like he's seen a ghost."

Arik tore his gaze from the crib, swallowing hard, and muttered, "Not a ghost. Just… proof fate plays favorites."

Gabriel's lips curved, sharp and amused. "Of course it does. It plays mine."

Orfeo laughed, Cecil's brow arched, and Arik shook his head with a disbelieving grin, though his eyes lingered again on the crib.

For once, the von Jaunez–Lyon heirs stood in silence, all three caught between awe, amusement, and the undeniable truth: the empire had just gained two more shadows of Gabriel, and nothing would ever be the same.