Gabriel entered their private suite with a long sigh, tugging at the knot of his tie until it came loose, his blazer slipping from his shoulders. The day's weight clung to him like smoke, the news of Wrohan turning in his mind even now. He had barely lifted the blazer to drape it over a chair when something small latched onto his leg.

He stopped, looking down.

Silver eyes, wide, solemn, and too bright for such a small face, stared up at him. Cecil clung to his trouser leg with both hands, dark curls sticking out in stubborn tufts from his nap. His chubby cheeks were still flushed from sleep, his little mouth pursed as though announcing a silent claim.

"Already staking territory," Gabriel murmured, brown eyes glinting with humor. He stooped, scooping the boy up onto his hip with ease. Cecil nestled there at once, small fists curling into Gabriel's shirt as if he'd been waiting all day for this exact moment.

Across the carpet, sprawled in a far less subtle claim, Arik lay on his stomach with a book open before him. His curls were a darker echo of Damian's, his golden eyes flicking up from the page with a smirk too sharp for his age.

"You're late," Arik said solemnly, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "We started without you."

Gabriel arched a brow, stepping further into the room with Cecil balanced against him. "Started what? Dinner or arguments?"

"Both," Damian's voice came, low and even, from the head of the dining table. He was already seated, sleeves rolled back, the lamplight catching on the gold of his eyes as he cut a portion of roasted vegetables with meticulous precision. His gaze lifted to meet Gabriel's, steady and warm beneath the sharpness. "Arik decided the fish was 'boring.'"

"It is boring," Arik interjected, rolling onto his back now, book abandoned beside him. He stretched his arms dramatically toward Gabriel. "Papa agrees with me."

"Papa," Gabriel said dryly, lowering himself into the chair beside Damian with Cecil still clinging like a barnacle to his chest, "thinks you have an unhealthy hatred for food that isn't drowning in honey."

Arik grinned, unrepentant, and wriggled closer to the table. "See? He didn't deny it's boring."

Damian's mouth curved, faint and smug, as he reached over to brush a hand across Cecil's dark curls where he nestled against Gabriel. The boy stirred, blinking silver eyes up at his father, then promptly buried his face back into Gabriel's shirt.

"Two of you," Damian murmured, his thumb brushing absently against Gabriel's shoulder. "Both impossible."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, the sharpness of his day easing under the steady weight of the room. "And you wouldn't survive without us."

"True," Damian said simply, golden eyes glinting.

At the far end of the table, Arik puffed up indignantly. "I could survive."

"No," Gabriel and Damian said at once, their voices overlapping, sharp in perfect unison.

Arik groaned, throwing himself back onto the carpet as if the world had conspired against him. "Unfair!"

Cecil squawked softly at the noise, but Gabriel hushed him with a low hum, pressing his lips to the boy's hair before glancing sidelong at Damian. His smirk curved slowly.

"Speaking of unfair," Gabriel drawled, "did anyone tell you Wrohan's sending an envoy for your coronation anniversary?"

Damian's knife paused only a second before cutting smoothly again. "Cain Canmore."

Arik perked back up, golden eyes darting between them with open curiosity. "Who's that?"

Gabriel didn't miss a beat. His voice was smooth, dry, as he reached for his water. "Just another ambassador for your father's celebration."

"Boring," Arik declared instantly, flopping back against the carpet with all the exaggerated despair of a boy who had hoped for dragons or assassins.

Damian's brow arched faintly, but he said nothing, his knife moving with steady elegance as he portioned the fish onto Gabriel's plate.

Cecil shifted at the motion, squirming until Gabriel adjusted him across his lap. The boy's small hands curled into the fabric of his shirt again, silver eyes half-lidded, more interested in warmth than food.

"Ambassadors aren't boring," Gabriel corrected absently, brushing his fingers through Cecil's dark curls. His brown eyes cut to Arik, glinting with sharp amusement. "They just require more patience than you've managed to show for arithmetic."

Arik groaned, rolling onto his stomach again, chin in his hands. "At least numbers end. Ambassadors just talk forever."

That earned him the faintest twitch at the corner of Damian's mouth, though his gaze lingered on Gabriel, weighing the ease of his answer.

Gabriel sipped his water, a smirk curving faintly. "At this point I wonder which of us he gets his mouth from."

Damian's golden eyes glinted, molten with amusement. "You."

Gabriel arched a brow, sharp. "Confident answer."

"Obvious answer," Damian countered, his voice even but threaded with quiet humor. "You sharpen words the way others sharpen blades. He just hasn't learned restraint yet."

Arik, catching only half the exchange, piped up from the floor with his fork still in hand. "I heard that!"

"Good," Gabriel replied dryly, setting down his glass. "Maybe it'll stop you from trying to outtalk your tutors."

"It won't," Damian said, not bothering to look away from Gabriel, his mouth curving slowly.

Gabriel huffed a laugh under his breath, his free hand brushing absently over Cecil's dark hair where the boy had dozed off against his chest. "You're enjoying this far too much."

"Of course," Damian murmured, his thumb brushing the rim of his wineglass before he lifted it. "I married you. Did you think I'd mind having two more versions of you to spar with?"

Gabriel's smirk sharpened, though his brown eyes softened despite himself. "Careful what you wish for, Emperor. The next one might outmatch even you."

Arik, missing the weight beneath those words entirely, grinned as if he'd just been granted a reprieve from another lecture. "Good. Because I'm still not eating the fish."

Gabriel exhaled sharply through his nose, sharp enough to cut, though his lips curved. "You'll eat it. Or I'll feed you myself."

Arik froze, golden eyes wide, then scrambled to grab his fork before his father could make good on the threat.

Cecil stirred at the sound of his father's voice, silver eyes blinking open, catching the lamplight like a Lyon's mark of fate. For a moment, Damian's gaze lingered on the boy, on both of them, and the weight in his expression turned heavier, quieter, even as Arik loudly declared he was definitely going to be better than both his parents.