CHAPTER 428: CHAPTER 422: WARLORD IN DIAPERS

Damian’s voice was low. "For what?"

Gabriel met his eyes. "I honestly don’t know. To remember? To make sure that I know he is coming? Or... fuck."

He trailed off. The word hung in the air like a fault line about to split. Steam rose slowly around them, clinging to the edges of the tub, curling against the base of Damian’s robe. The water stilled. Gabriel’s fingers tensed against the porcelain, his gaze flicking somewhere past Damian’s shoulder, like the thought had just snapped into place, and he didn’t like the shape of it.

Damian leaned in slightly, catching the shift. "Or what?"

Gabriel’s lips parted, but nothing came for a moment. Just breath. Just the pulse ticking in his throat. Then, finally, he whispered it.

"What if he’s not coming?"

Damian didn’t move.

Gabriel’s voice barely rose above the sound of water. "What if he’s already here?"

There was a long pause.

Damian rose with the slowness of a predator at ease, elegant, almost hypnotic. "Gabriel..."

Gabriel barely breathed; he let his head fall onto his hands, not knowing if he should be laughing or despairing. "Did you know how Goliath died?"

Damian stilled beside the tub, his fingers curling once at his side. "It was never confirmed," he said slowly. "Only whispers. Collapse during a council, buried without rites, the records sealed."

Gabriel let out a soft, humorless breath. "Yeah. The curated version. The one Olivier and Hadeon wanted written."

He didn’t look at Damian, not yet. His voice turned low, edged with something dry and bitter, like ash that had waited too long to settle. "Goliath lived for over two decades after being poisoned. Same compound Hadeon used on you. The original. A perfect blend of devoid of mercy and humanity."

Damian’s gaze sharpened.

"One of his consorts did it," Gabriel went on. "One of his consorts, some political hostage that faked love only to get near him and ruined the Emperor that destroyed his nation. Poetic, really."

He reached for a cloth resting on the side of the tub.

"It didn’t kill him. Not at first. Just... broke everything inside him. Like it tried to hollow him out but left enough for him to keep walking."

Damian didn’t speak, but the silence pressed tighter now, drawn like a wire.

"He survived, like you did. But all his ether channels were burned through. Scorched clean. I saw them once in an old overlay, a diagnostic from the archives that never made it into the public record. His body was functioning. His soul wasn’t. It was like watching someone held together by memory alone."

Gabriel’s hand sank back into the water, ripples spreading slowly around his wrist.

"I never understood how he lived like that. He was the one that molded me into becoming Dominie and reaching out to people like you." He scoffed, rising from the now barely lukewarm water. "What I’m trying to say is that Goliath had passed the trial of Ether and was a chosen one. Arik was born with gold eyes like you."

Damian’s breath hitched, not audibly, not visibly, but Gabriel felt it all the same. Like a tremor beneath the tile.

He stood now, the water slipping off his skin in lazy rivulets, his hand reaching for a towel but not yet using it. He stared at Damian as if he were still parsing the taste of the thought.

Damian smirked. "Well, Gabriel, why does it feel like our fate starts to connect to that of a man wanting his legacy back?"

Gabriel’s mouth quirked, a dry curve of amusement sliding across his face as he tightened the cream robe around his waist. Damp curls clung to his forehead, and his skin was still flushed from the bath, steam rising faintly behind him like smoke trailing a thought that hadn’t finished burning.

Damian didn’t move. He simply watched, golden eyes sharp, half-lidded with thought, and the quiet edge of a smirk forming as if he’d already read the next line before Gabriel could speak it.

"I’m not afraid of him," Gabriel said, voice calm, almost bored. "Of who he was. Or might be. Goliath was brilliant, strategic, and loyal to the core. If he wanted to come back, he could’ve picked worse places than the cradle of an imperial prince."

Damian’s brow lifted a fraction. "Strategic move, though. Two months old. Still learning what toes are."

Gabriel snorted. "Exactly. If he’s here, if that’s what this is, it means he chose to be helpless. Soft. Mortal. So he can scream through every bath, drool on state documents, and cling to me like I’m the last thing tethering him to this plane."

Damian didn’t argue. The thought was already there, stretching between them in the quiet.

"I’m not going to treat my son differently because he might have been a war general with a martyr complex," Gabriel continued, stepping forward to press his palm against Damian’s chest, feeling the steady thrum beneath it. "Even if he is Goliath, there’s not much he can do yet, except spit up, fuss when you leave the room, and look at me like I betrayed him if I dare to shower."

"Sounds familiar," Damian murmured.

Gabriel gave him a pointed look. "You at least let me finish my bath."

"Only because Edward threatened to sedate me if I barged in before you were rinsed."

A breath of laughter escaped Gabriel. He leaned his weight forward just slightly, warm and damp and unbothered by the idea of a reborn legend currently curled up in a silk-lined bassinet in their room, wrapped like a threat in lace and lullabies.

"I does bother me one thing, though." He said, wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck, on his toes to reach that high.

"That he might be the one that influenced Olivier to shift your gender?" Damian said, snuggling his nose in Gabriel’s neck.

"Wouldn’t that be poetic?" he muttered. "My own son, retroactively screwing with my life before he had the decency to be born. Whispering ideas through ether channels, nudging Olivier toward the worst decisions possible, just to ensure he had a body to come back to."

Damian’s lips brushed the edge of his jaw, the kiss more thoughtful than comforting. "Olivier was unstable," he said quietly. "He would’ve acted eventually. You know that."

"Maybe," Gabriel allowed, voice wry. "But Goliath always played the long game. If he did this, if he pulled strings from wherever he was, I don’t know whether to applaud the foresight or give the reincarnated version the silent treatment next time he screams at 4 a.m. He has an aversion to his nannies."

Damian huffed a laugh, nose still tucked beneath the curve of Gabriel’s jaw. "You can try. But he only calms down when you hold him."

"That’s what makes it suspicious," Gabriel whispered, but softer now, with no real venom behind it. "Even in diapers, he knows how to manipulate me."

There was a pause, brief and golden-edged.

Damian lifted his head, just enough to meet Gabriel’s eyes. "You think he’d choose to come back for us?"

Gabriel didn’t hesitate. "No. He came back for the Empire. He just knew we wouldn’t throw him out."

"And what will you do," Damian asked, voice low, "if one day he remembers?"

Gabriel tilted his head, eyes narrowing in thought. "I’ll remind him that in this life, he cries when he wants milk. And I still decide bedtime."

Damian grinned, sharp and smug and completely in love. "Then let’s make another one, this time normal."

Gabriel blinked, then pulled back just enough to squint up at him. "Define normal, Your Imperial Overconfidence."

Damian, completely unfazed, slid his hands to Gabriel’s hips and tilted his head like he was considering the options in a very serious council meeting. "One that doesn’t scream at a frequency known to shatter beta composure. One that doesn’t try to assassinate bath time. Maybe even one with my charm and your tolerance."

Gabriel deadpanned, "So, a silent diplomat who glares like a thunderstorm and only cries when the empire’s collapsing?"

Damian leaned in again, brushing his lips across Gabriel’s temple. "Perfect."