The music lingered on its final swell, strings quivering as though unwilling to let go, before dissolving into silence. For a moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath again, and then applause broke like a storm.

The ether-screens replayed the last turn of the Emperor and Empress in slow, refracted light: Gabriel's poised smile, Damian's unflinching hand at his back, and the faint glint of shared laughter caught between them like a secret.

When they drew apart, Gabriel's hand still resting lightly in Damian's, the nobles rose from their chairs as one.

The floor opened then, attendants ushering nobles forward in carefully timed rotations. Couples swept in, dukes with their wives, envoys with their companions, and ministers with partners who smiled too wide. The orchestra shifted to a more generous rhythm.

Gabriel and Damian withdrew to the edge of the floor, returning to their circuit of the banquet.

Everywhere they went, glasses were raised, and voices pitched in admiration or cautious reverence. Gabriel's replies remained silk, smooth and laced with quiet irony, the kind that left courtiers smiling even as they wondered if they'd just been cut. Damian's words fell less often, but when they did, they landed heavy enough to pin even the most ambitious noble to their place.

Through it all, their presence remained a seamless performance, Gabriel's cool elegance balanced by Damian's burning steadiness, their hands brushing as if tethered by something invisible.

They paused with Crista, who spoke warmly of Arik, her voice carrying enough affection that Gabriel's expression softened just for her. With foreign envoys, they traded toasts: Damian offering the weight of promise, Gabriel offering the sharper edge of memory. Alexandra swept in and out of their orbit like a comet, emerald gown flashing, her wit cutting down overeager suitors before they could reach her brother.

And always, in the periphery, Rafael gleamed like molten gold at his table, languid as a predator sunning itself. Gregoris never once broke formation at the dais, though his gaze tracked Rafael with lethal precision. Irina looked between the two men, half horrified, half fascinated, muttering to herself that history would record someone's foolish death before dawn.

But Gabriel ignored it all.

This was his night, their night. The coronation had been the bond, the banquet the proof. He had no need to meddle in lesser fires when he was already standing in the center of the blaze.

By the time the last course was cleared and the chandeliers dimmed to their lowest glow, the nobles were weary from dancing, the envoys restless with calculation, and the city outside still alive with celebrations projected across every holo-screen.

—

Gabriel let himself collapse into the first chair he found, the heavy suit dragging on him as though it had doubled in weight the moment the doors closed behind them. He groaned, head tipping back, eyes shut, every inch of him unraveling now that the performance was over.

"I have no brain left to lose," he muttered to the ceiling, voice flat with exhaustion. "If someone asks me for another toast, I'll stab them with a dessert fork."

Damian followed a moment later, slower, though no less weary, with Arik tucked securely against his chest. The child had been retrieved just before the banquet ended, still awake, but blinking in that stubborn, drowsy way of infants determined to fight sleep out of spite.

The Emperor looked no more polished than his husband; his suit jacket had been stripped away, the bold gold-trimmed shirt beneath wrinkled by the tiny fists clinging to it. His head bowed as he crossed the room, as though even his spine was tired of being the unbreakable axis of an empire.

Arik gave a soft, disgruntled noise, then latched onto Damian's collar with single-minded determination, shoving fabric toward his mouth.

Gabriel cracked one eye open at the sound and huffed a laugh. "He's already learned your habits. Biting through problems."

Damian glanced at him, golden eyes warm despite the exhaustion etched into his face. "Better mine than yours. If he picked up your tongue, half the Capital would be in tears by the time he could speak."

Gabriel groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. "Half the Capital is in tears already. I heard at least three duchesses crying into their champagne because we didn't accept their daughters' tributes."

Damian finally sank into the chair opposite him, Arik perched across his arm, small head lolling against his shoulder. The baby had finally lost his battle with sleep, tiny mouth still clamped on the corner of Damian's shirt.

For a moment, silence stretched, heavy but strangely gentle. The kind of silence only possible once the weight of performance had lifted.

Gabriel tilted his head, eyes slipping shut again. "We survived."

"We did more than that," Damian murmured, his voice softer now, only for him. He shifted Arik carefully in his arms, brushing a fingertip against the baby's cheek before looking back at his mate. "We are married now too."

Gabriel's lips curved, tired but edged with amusement. "Married by empire, crowned by spectacle, blessed by sleepless children." He let out a low groan, covering his face with his hand. "Remind me again why anyone envies us?"

Damian's laugh was quiet, roughened by fatigue, but real. "Because they saw you tonight. Grey and gold, sharp enough to make them forget how to breathe. Because they saw me with you and understood there was nothing left for them to reach."

Gabriel lowered his hand, meeting that molten gaze. For a moment, the exhaustion slipped, replaced by something steadier, deeper, and anchored in the way their lives had intertwined long before crowns were set on their heads.

He exhaled slowly. "Then let them envy." His smile turned faint and private. "I only wanted the truth. And the truth is this: you, me, and a child who thinks my shirt is dinner."

Arik stirred, making a small noise as if to prove the point, his little fist tightening in Damian's collar.

Damian's thumb brushed Gabriel's knuckles as he reached across the small distance between them, catching his hand in a quiet tether. "Then that's enough."