CHAPTER 462: CHAPTER 462: BROTHERLY ASSURANCE

Dean found Sebastian in the sitting room overlooking the back gardens, the late afternoon sun cutting soft gold across the floor. The room felt normal again. No fever in the air. No frantic footsteps in the hallway. No medical carts waiting nearby like silent threats. The house had settled, and for the first time all week, Dean could walk without his knees wobbling.

Sebastian sat on the couch with his long legs stretched out, reading something on his tablet with the same unbothered elegance he’d inherited straight from Trevor. The green of his eyes brightened the moment he saw Dean approach.

"Look who’s upright," he said, closing the tablet with a soft click. "Congratulations. You’ve survived your own biology."

Dean dropped onto the opposite end of the couch and leaned back into the cushions with a sigh. "Barely."

"You look better," Sebastian said. "Less like you’re about to start hissing at people."

"That happened one time," Dean muttered.

"Twice," Sebastian corrected.

Dean tilted his head until he could study his brother properly. Sebastian looked older than he remembered from the academy years, twenty-four suited him, all quiet confidence and faintly smug competence. Trevor’s posture lived in his bones. Lucas’s sharp intuition lived in his eyes. He made dominance look effortless.

Dean cleared his throat. "Can I ask something?"

Sebastian’s brows lifted. "Since when do you ask first?"

Dean ignored that. "When you manifested... were you thinking about all the political crap too?"

Sebastian’s expression softened a little. "Some of it, yeah. I already knew there would be pressure. People were hinting before the labs even came back." He shifted slightly, propping an arm along the back of the couch. "But during the actual fever? No. I wasn’t thinking about the Empire. Or Saha. Or House alliances. I was thinking, ’Why is the ceiling spinning?’ and ’Please don’t let me accidentally bite Marin.’ Political strategy was not on the list."

Dean huffed out a breath. "Okay, good. Because for a second I thought maybe my brain was broken."

"Oh, your brain is absolutely chaotic," Sebastian said lightly. "But that’s not the manifestation talking."

Dean kicked his ankle. Sebastian didn’t even flinch.

A moment passed before Dean spoke again, quieter this time. "How did you deal with it afterwards? The pressure."

Sebastian leaned back, letting his shoulders settle into the cushions. "Honestly? I didn’t. I avoided it." His mouth curved, not exactly proud, but not apologetic either. "I refused dinner invitations. Politely ignored anyone from the academy who tried to hint at matches. Dodged reporters. Hid behind dad. Hid behind papa. Hid behind Windstone whenever possible."

"Windstone’s a shield," Dean admitted.

"He’s a fortress," Sebastian corrected. "And he walks exactly the way that scares off ambitious nobles."

Dean nodded, thinking of Windstone’s terrifying glide.

Sebastian continued. "But mostly? I waited. Being twenty-four helps. People lose interest when you show no sign of choosing anyone. They move on to the next shiny problem."

Dean frowned. "But you’re still single."

"By choice," Sebastian said simply. "Dad and Papa never pushed. They wouldn’t let anyone else push either. And honestly, anyone stupid enough to try has to go through Trevor first." He paused. "Or Dax. And Dax is worse."

Dean winced. "Please don’t remind me he’s involved."

"Too late," Sebastian said with an easy shrug. "He’s already sent three messages, two warnings, and one prediction that you’ll ’cause international hysteria.’"

Dean groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Why is he like this?"

"Because he’s related to us by choice," Sebastian said. "And because he enjoys chaos. And because Chris can’t stop him."

Dean let his hands fall. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "Sebas... I don’t want people trying to pick me like I’m a prize."

Sebastian leaned forward and rested a hand on the back of Dean’s neck with a familiar weight. "They don’t get to pick you. You’re not a treaty. You’re not a bargaining chip. You’re Dean Fitzgeralt."

Dean swallowed, the tightness behind his ribs loosening little by little. "And if someone tries?"

Sebastian smiled, Lucas’s precision wrapped in Trevor’s calm threat. "Then I’ll handle it."

Dean snorted. "What, you’ll glare at them?"

"Glaring is your job," Sebastian reminded. "I will be doing something significantly more discouraging."

Dean’s grin broke through at that. The first real one in days.

Sebastian nudged him lightly. "You’ll figure all this out. It’s weird now, but it settles. You stop feeling like your senses are trying to escape your skull. You stop overheating. You start noticing how much you can actually do."

Dean tilted his head. "And the political stuff?"

"That part," Sebastian said, stretching his legs again, "never really goes away. But we’ve got Dad. And Papa. And Dax, apparently. Nobody’s going to corner you. Not while this family’s alive."

Dean breathed a little easier.

The house was quiet again, warm and familiar. Manifestation had shaken their world, but it hadn’t changed who he was. Or who they were together.

Sebastian bumped his shoulder gently. "Also, don’t bite anyone. Papa still hasn’t forgiven me for that door."

Dean laughed. "Deal."

Dean had just let himself sink deeper into the couch when footsteps approached, carrying that particular weight that meant someone was about to have their peace ruined.

Windstone appeared in the doorway like an omen.

Both brothers straightened.

The butler’s expression was perfectly calm, but his posture carried the faint tension he reserved only for visits, political surprises, or situations requiring emergency tarps.

"Masters Sebastian. Master Dean," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I am here to inform you of impending... company."

Sebastian blinked. "How impending?"

Windstone inhaled very quietly. "They will arrive within the hour."

Dean sat up fast. "Who’s they?"

Windstone cleared his throat in a way that suggested he’d needed a moment before delivering the news. "His Majesty Caelan of Palatine and Lady Serathine are en route to the manor."

Dean’s jaw dropped.

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. "Grandfather Caelan? Both of them?"

"Yes," Windstone confirmed. "A visit of... familial interest."

His tone implied both importance and bracing for impact.

Dean stared. "Oh no."