"Immensely," Gabriel repeated, voice dripping with the kind of satisfaction that made Alexandra roll her eyes.

She straightened from the carpet, brushing at the folds of her emerald gown, pale green eyes narrowing. "You look like you're holding court from a sickbed. Honestly, brother, what would the salons say if they saw their Empress like this?"

Gabriel tilted his head against the chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That he's still married to the Emperor, and therefore unbothered."

Irina stifled a laugh behind her hand. Arik, uninterested in adult barbs, was scribbling a massive sun over the entire family portrait, ignoring the fact that it covered Alexandra's carefully detailed hair.

"Unbothered," Alexandra repeated, arching a brow. "That's one word for walking like you've survived a duel."

Gabriel let his smirk widen. "At least I survive mine. Do remind me, sister, how is the social world handling the revelation that you are pregnant at last?"

The Marchioness of Lancaster froze for the barest beat, then lifted her chin, smile sharp as glass. "They choke on it daily. Half the salons had already written me off as barren; the other half were placing bets on which consort Caelan would be forced to take. Now they write me congratulatory letters with ink still wet from their own wagers."

Irina's eyes widened, fascinated. "And Caelan?"

Alexandra's expression softened for just a breath before sharpening again. "Caelan is delighted. Which makes the nobles' suffering all the sweeter." She flicked her gaze back to Gabriel. "And unlike you, dear brother, I can sit through a luncheon without wincing."

Gabriel laughed, low and merciless. "Mm, for now. Enjoy your moment while it lasts. You'll learn soon enough that carrying a von Jaunez's grandchild makes court luncheons unbearable in an entirely different way."

Arik chose that exact moment to scrawl over Alexandra's portrait again, this time adding crooked ears and what looked suspiciously like whiskers. He sat back, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "Auntie Al looks like a cat."

Irina dissolved into helpless giggles. Alexandra gaped at the slate, then at Gabriel, outrage painting her face. "This is your son!"

Gabriel leaned back, sipping his coffee with regal detachment. "A Lyon through and through. Spite first, art second."

Damian's chuckle rumbled low from where he leaned near the doorway, golden eyes glinting with amusement. "It seems the Marchioness has lost another battle."

Alexandra threw her hands up, dramatic as ever. "Unbelievable! Pregnant at last, and still defeated by a six-year-old!"

"Welcome to parenthood, sister," Gabriel finished, his smirk sharp enough to draw Alexandra's glare. "The first war you always lose is against your own child."

Arik cackled at his own drawing, proud of the whiskered "Auntie Al," while Irina tried and failed to redirect him with another stylus. Alexandra pressed a hand to her stomach with all the drama of a martyr. "I cannot believe this. Pregnant at last, and still reduced to ridicule by an eight-month-old memory of spite in Lyon blood."

Gabriel tipped his cup in lazy salute. "Get used to it. It only gets worse."

"Traitor," she muttered, half fond, half exasperated, before lowering herself back to the carpet in defiance.

Damian let the moment hang a breath longer before moving. He crossed the room in the quiet way only he could manage. His golden gaze lingered on Arik for a beat, his son, victorious in ink and mischief, then cut to Gabriel.

"You've done enough damage for one morning," Damian said evenly, though the edge of amusement curled beneath the words. His hand slid along Gabriel's shoulder. "Come."

Gabriel arched a brow. "Mm, are you saving me or stealing me?"

"Both."

Damian didn't wait for an argument. His grip shifted to Gabriel's wrist, steady but not rough, tugging him up from the chair with effortless strength. Gabriel allowed it, a sharp smile curving his mouth as he caught the flicker of Alexandra's outrage in the corner of his eye.

"Oh, by all means," she said tartly, "run off and leave me with the children."

Gabriel leaned close enough to brush his mouth along Damian's ear, his words pitched low, just for him. "I told you she'd say that."

Damian's reply was not words but the press of his lips to Gabriel's temple, unbothered by their audience.

The door hissed shut behind them, sealing away the noise of Alexandra's outrage and Arik's laughter. The study was theirs now, quiet except for the hum of the ether wards that always resonated faintly with Damian's presence.

Gabriel leaned back against the desk, fingers braced on the polished wood, his smirk edged in challenge. "You drag me in here in the middle of the day. Tell me, Emperor, is this politics or indulgence?"

Damian stepped into his space, golden gaze burning down at him. "Both." His hands slid to Gabriel's hips, grip firm, anchoring him to the desk.

Gabriel laughed, sharp and amused, even as his body arched into Damian's. "I should have remembered how relentless you are when you think you're right."

Damian silenced him with a kiss, hard and claiming, pulling him closer until the edge of the desk dug into Gabriel's thighs. The smirk broke into a gasp, then into laughter again as Damian lifted him effortlessly, setting him atop the desk as though it had been built for this.

"You said we'd wait until the empire was stable," Damian growled against his mouth, knot of his tie already tugged loose, buttons slipping open under Gabriel's hands. "It is. No more excuses."

Gabriel bit down on his lip, half defiance, half want, his eyes gleaming. "Arrogant. You think you can will children into existence just because you've decided it's time?"

Damian's answer was a thrust of his hips between Gabriel's parted thighs, the sound it drew from him more honest than any argument. "No," he rasped, golden eyes locked with his. "I can because you'll let me."

The bond surged, ether-light sparking faintly along the carved patterns in the walls as Gabriel pulled him closer, tugging hard at his hair, daring him deeper. The desk shook beneath them, papers scattering like forgotten treaties.

"Careful," Gabriel breathed, laughter curling through the edge of his moan. "If Edward finds these reports wrinkled…"

"Then he'll know his Emperor did his duty," Damian cut in, voice rough and possessive, as his knot began to swell.

Gabriel's laugh broke sharp, swallowed by another kiss as Damian thrust harder, relentless, until the bond flared white-hot and the knot locked them together, immovable. His hands fisted in Damian's hair, nails raking down his back, body trembling as pleasure ripped through him.

When it ebbed, he leaned back on the desk, chest rising and falling, smirk curling his lips even as his body ached. "You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

Damian pressed his mouth to Gabriel's temple, the knot holding them joined, his voice low and absolute. "Not when it comes to you. Not when it comes to our children."

Gabriel groaned, tilting his head back against the wood, amusement cutting through exhaustion. "Five, you said."

Damian's laugh rumbled against his skin, smug and unrepentant. "And you just gave me another chance at one."

The study's wards hummed faintly, echoing the bond, sealing their vow in ether and heat.