Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

Gabriel arched a brow. "Pity or madness, depending on the day."

"Both," came another voice, smooth with the kind of familiarity few would dare use here.

Max crossed into the garden light, dark hair catching a faint gleam from the ether currents, green eyes bright with amusement. He didn't bow in private meetings with his family. Blood excused him where others would be crushed.

"I leave you for one evening," he drawled, "and already you're scaring the court into sleepless nights again. Tell me, brother, do you ever tire of it?"

Damian's golden eyes slid toward him, cool, unreadable. "Not once."

Arik's lips curved faintly. "They say you're the approachable one."

Max grinned, leaning with casual ease against the fountain's stone edge. "To nobles desperate enough to think they can buy influence through me, perhaps. They circle like vultures, convinced if they cannot reach him…" his chin tilted toward Damian, "they might coax something from me instead."

Before Gabriel could reply, the wards shifted again, heavier this time, the garden's hum deepening to admit the measured stride of Mezos of Aradia. The general bowed first to Damian, then to Gabriel, before turning to Arik.

Before Gabriel could reply, the wards shifted again, heavier this time, the garden's hum deepening to admit the measured stride of Mezos of Aradia. The general's presence was like a stone dropped into still water, the ether currents adjusted around him rather than through him. He wore a high-collared coat of soft, burnished grey-blue leather worked through with faint runes that pulsed once with his own power, his red hair bound loosely at the nape and falling over his shoulders like a muted banner. Time and campaigns had left no stoop in his frame; at forty-five, he carried the quiet weight of survival.

He bowed first to Damian, then to Gabriel, a soldier's deference without theatrics, before letting his clear blue eyes rest on Arik. "Majesty. Consort." His voice was low and even, honed by years of command. "Your Highness. The convoy stands ready."

Arik inclined his head. "Engines checked?"

Mezos's mouth ticked in the faintest ghost of a smile. "Every car. Ether-cores fully charged and sealed, but…" he lifted one brow, "as requested by Wrohan, the cores will be shut down before the border. We'll be running on kinetic reserves for the final stretch. Not elegant, but it keeps their inspectors from having a collective fit."

Arik's lips curved faintly. "And the brooches?"

Mezos tapped the small golden owl pinned neatly at his own collar, the runes along his cuffs winking once. "Packed in velvet boxes, to be presented as 'gifts.' Supposedly a precaution against ether surges. In reality, a leash. But at least they've made it fashionable." His tone carried the same dry humor as Max's but wrapped in discipline.

Max snorted, pushing off from the fountain. "You wear it better than any of their lords will."

"That's the idea," Mezos replied, then added, quieter, "and I've seen enough court banquets to know how to smile while I'm being muzzled."

Arik's golden eyes met his general's. "The Shadows?"

"In place already," Mezos said. "Low signatures, spread through the convoy as civilians. Oberon has your personal guard embedded in the lead and tail cars. If Wrohan tries anything, they won't get a second chance."

Damian hummed, golden eyes glinting over the rim of his glass. "Good. Let them believe they've declawed you. The more they stare at the convoy and the pretty brooches, the less they see the teeth behind it."

Gabriel's gaze slid from Arik to Mezos, catching the flicker of understanding between the two men. "When do you leave?"

Mezos inclined his head slightly. "An hour after sunset. Enough time for final calibrations and for His Highness to decide which dignitaries he'll tolerate within reach."

Arik's mouth curved, humorless. "None."

This time Mezos did smile, a restrained, knowing thing that hinted at old campaigns and a trust built far from the palace. "Understood."

The garden had gone quieter. Even the twins' shrieks had turned into breathless giggles behind the hedges. The faint hum of the wards shifted again and Gabriel glanced over his shoulder just as two taller figures peeled away from the pavilion.

Cecil arrived first, moving with his usual economy of motion, silver eyes calm and unreadable. Orfeo trailed a half-step behind, green eyes already alight with mischief, his grin betraying exactly how little he feared the solemnity of the moment.

"We came to see you off," Cecil said simply, stopping just short of the fountain. "Orfeo insisted. He thinks farewells are dramatic."

"I do," Orfeo confirmed cheerfully. "And because someone has to tell you that the Empire won't collapse in your absence."

Arik turned toward them, one brow lifting. "You're sure about that?"

"Absolutely," Orfeo said with mock gravity. "We'll even keep Father's lemonade cold."

Damian's golden eyes narrowed slightly in warning, but the corner of his mouth curved.

Cecil raised his glass of ether-water, unbothered. "We can rule in your stead. At least long enough for you to endure Wrohan and come back to complain about it."

Arik gave a low sound that might have been a laugh. "You'd enjoy that too much."

"Probably," Orfeo admitted. "But think how proud you'll be if nothing burns down before you return."

Mezos glanced between the brothers, his restrained smile flickering again. "With that kind of confidence, Your Highness, I may not be needed at all."

Arik's golden eyes softened for a heartbeat as he looked at them, something like affection breaking through the iron. "Try not to stage a coup while I'm gone."

"Only a very small one," Orfeo said, straight-faced. "For practice."

Cecil rolled his eyes but touched his glass to Arik's wrist in a quiet gesture of farewell. "Come back," he said simply. "We'll keep things steady until you do."

For a moment no one moved. The fountain whispered, the ether-lights flickered above the hedges, and the twins' laughter floated back across the lawn like bells. Damian stood at Gabriel's side, Max lounged against the stone with his habitual grin, Mezos waited with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, and Arik stood in the center of them all, a prince about to step into another country with his general at his shoulder and his brothers at his back.

Gabriel looked at them , his sons, his husband, his family, and felt the rare stillness of a world balanced, just for now. It was not an ending, only a pause. Beyond the garden the convoy waited, engines humming low, owl brooches glinting in their velvet boxes. Within the garden the heart of the Empire held fast.

When Arik finally turned toward the path, Mezos fell into step beside him without a word. Cecil and Orfeo stepped back, their silhouettes catching the blue-white light. Damian's golden eyes followed them, unblinking.

Gabriel let out a slow breath, the faintest smile touching his mouth. "Until you're home," he murmured.

Arik glanced over his shoulder once, nodded, and was gone.

The garden settled again, holo-lights drifting lazily above the flowers, the ether currents humming steady, a quiet, unshakable pulse that would wait, just as they would, until his story began.

…The END.