CHAPTER 425: CHAPTER 419: DO NOT OPEN WHILE EATING.

Gabriel’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. The weight of that command wasn’t lost on him, nor was the softness beneath it. Damian never asked when he could order. When he asked, it was because the answer mattered.

He took the bite anyway, slow, unbothered, letting the silence stretch just long enough to remind Damian that he wasn’t one of his generals.

Then, finally, he nodded.

"You will get it," Gabriel said, voice low. "Do you want the technical part or what I’ve remembered?"

Damian didn’t blink. "Both."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, arms folding in a loose, deliberate motion that only seemed relaxed to the untrained eye. Behind his golden gaze was calculation, defense, and, underneath it all, fear dressed in strategy.

"Demanding as always." Gabriel smirked and leaned back on his chair, enjoying the wine he couldn’t have until now.

Damian’s gaze narrowed in that precise, dissecting way he reserved for enemies, mysteries, and the rare moments when Gabriel made him feel both at once.

"You married me for it," he said flatly, though the edge of warmth bled into the corners of his voice, like sunlight cutting through armored glass.

Gabriel didn’t deny it.

He let the wine linger on his tongue, savoring the weight of it, the burn, the soft bite. Then he placed the glass down with deliberate care, every inch of the movement a calculated elegance.

"I married you because nobody would survive this," he said slowly, pointing to his wine glass, "because your taste in wine still sucks."

Damian didn’t so much as flinch.

He only arched one brow, slow and imperious, the gesture screaming really louder than any spoken word. Then, with the kind of composure that made generals nervous, he reached for his own glass and took a sip.

"Expensive doesn’t mean good," Gabriel added, folding his arms and leaning back with the air of a man who had survived gods, coups, and imperial paperwork and would now die on this hill.

"I’m not going to let a man with the taste buds of a toddler tell me about wine." Damian said, amused. "But good deflecting technique."

Gabriel’s mouth curled, not quite a smile, but something close. "If I wanted to deflect, I’d talk about Max’s new haircut or the noble petition to build a marble fountain in the shape of your jawline."

Damian made a sound halfway between a sigh and a scoff, setting his glass down with a muted clink. "They already tried. I vetoed it."

"Because it was excessive?"

"Because it was inaccurate."

Gabriel barked a soft laugh, the sound quick and low. He reached again for his fork, this time without pause, spearing a bite of lamb like he hadn’t just tossed royal bureaucracy into the flames for dessert.

"You really believe I’m going to give you a clean, unbiased report," he said, voice rich with layered amusement, "after you threatened me with ten children and defended this wine?"

Damian shrugged one shoulder, as if the threat and the wine were equivalent offenses. "I believe you’re going to give me the truth."

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, long and quiet. The kind of sigh that said you knew what you married, and here we are.

"I already wrote the report," he said, spearing another bite of lamb and gesturing loosely with his fork. "It’s on your secure feed, flagged as Classified: Do Not Open While Eating, which I know you’ll ignore the moment I leave this table."

Damian didn’t flinch. "You were supposed to be on rest."

Gabriel tilted his head, mouth full. "And you were supposed to stop giving orders in bed. But here we are."

Damian let that go with a sigh, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Gabriel..."

"I didn’t overexert," Gabriel cut in, raising a hand. "Unless you count running two simulations, cross-referencing fifty years of ether grid patterns, and writing a full memo with footnotes." A beat. "Which I don’t."

Damian leaned back slowly, golden eyes narrowed in the way that usually preceded declarations of war or personal concern. "And?"

Gabriel sipped his wine again before answering, the flicker of something sharper in his eyes now. "Goliath’s still tethered. The one Olivier and Hadeon tried to hollow out and wear like a crown? His soul never fully detached from the Empire’s core. It’s looping. Reattaching. Getting ready."

Damian’s fingers tightened slightly, just once, against his mouth.

Gabriel didn’t stop. "He’s not alive. Not in any way that matters. But his resonance hasn’t faded. It’s stabilizing. Choosing a return path. And based on the inheritance patterns coded into the core’s pulse, it’ll come through bloodline. Our bloodline."

"Rebirth," Damian said slowly, eyes narrowing. "You’re saying Goliath will be reborn."

"I’m saying the ether believes he already has a right," Gabriel murmured. "And if the Empire remains bonded to us, then yes. It’ll choose a child. Ours, or one of theirs."

Damian didn’t speak at first. He only studied Gabriel with that uncanny stillness that followed him when humanity started to catch up with him.

"You’re not... alarmed," he said finally.

Gabriel shook his head, slow and sure. "No. I knew. I felt it before the data confirmed."

"Goliath was never just a sovereign to me," he continued, quieter now. "He was the one who taught me how to feel the grid. How to listen when others only took. I learned the old patterns because he showed them to me. He never treated me like a soldier or a pawn."

Gabriel looked down, running a thumb along the curve of his wine glass.

"He was the closest thing I ever had to a father."

Damian’s hand curled slightly on the tablecloth, but he didn’t interrupt.

"So no," Gabriel said. "I’m not against it. If he comes back through me, through us, then let him."

His voice stayed calm, but there was something fierce in the way he said it.

Damian finally leaned forward, elbows resting against the edge of the table, eyes gold and unreadable.

"You’d raise him again?" he asked, low. "Even knowing what he carried. What it did to him last time."

Gabriel didn’t flinch. "I’d raise him better."

Then, after a breath, he added, "And if it’s not me, if it’s another child, someone we name or bless or protect, I’ll still make sure he remembers what the Empire could have been. What it was, once."

Damian sat in that for a moment, eyes scanning Gabriel’s face like a map of the future he hadn’t wanted to chart yet.

Then, finally, he nodded.

"You’re right," he said, voice steady but softer. "He wouldn’t be safer anywhere else."

Gabriel raised a brow. "Was that you agreeing with me out loud?"

Damian deadpanned, "Don’t get used to it."

Gabriel hummed and took another bite of lamb. "Too late. Already documented."

"You documented it?"

"Page three of this lunch. Footnote six. ’The Emperor conceded.’"

Damian groaned softly, burying his face in his hand. "I married a menace."

Gabriel’s eyes glittered over the rim of his wineglass. "You married the Empire’s last line of defense, actually."

"Menace," Damian repeated.