CHAPTER 492: CHAPTER 486: THE SCARS OF BETRAYAL (4)

Warmth. That was the first thing Arik felt. Not the sharp light of the chandeliers, not the hum of conduits buzzing like angry bees in his skull, not even the press of silk sheets under his skin.

Just warmth.

It wrapped around him steady and unyielding, the kind of warmth that smelled faintly of mint and paper and something sharper beneath it, his father’s scent. Arik shifted instinctively, burrowing closer, his nose pressing against the fabric of Gabriel’s shirt.

The faint rise and fall of breath beneath his cheek settled him, the rhythm so steady it made the last scraps of fear unravel. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know where he was. Safe. His father’s arms around him, holding him like he was the only thing that mattered.

A quiet sound escaped him, not quite a word, not quite a sigh, and he snuggled closer, small fists curling into Gabriel’s shirt. The tension in his chest loosened by degrees, like knots undone.

"You’re awake," Gabriel’s voice murmured, low and even, the edge he used for council and court dulled into something softer. A thumb brushed idly through Arik’s curls. "Stay still. You don’t have to move yet."

Arik only made a small noise in reply, his throat thick. His eyes stayed shut, as if opening them would bring back the pain, the fragments, the shadows that had clawed at him before. Here, pressed into Gabriel’s chest, he could almost forget them.

The bed dipped slightly, another presence close. A heavier one, the air carrying that unmistakable weight of authority. Damian. His father’s hand settled against his back, large and firm, anchoring him even through the blankets.

"Better," Damian said quietly, and though his tone was steady, Arik could hear the steel hidden under it. The kind that made even the generals listen.

Arik swallowed, pressing his face tighter into Gabriel’s shirt. "I’m fine."

It came out small and muffled. A lie even he didn’t believe.

"Liar," Damian said flatly, the word heavy but not cruel. He didn’t wait for protest. He leaned down, arms sliding around both of them in one unyielding sweep, pulling Gabriel and Arik into the circle of his hold.

The world narrowed instantly, Arik caught between the steady press of Gabriel’s chest and the immovable weight of Damian’s arms closing around them. Golden eyes burned above him, sharp enough to flay a general, but when they dropped to him, they softened into something molten.

"You don’t lie to me, Arik," Damian murmured, his voice low, threaded with authority and something fiercer, something only his family ever heard. "Not when it’s written on your face."

Arik’s breath hitched, his small fingers fisting tighter in Gabriel’s shirt. He didn’t argue this time. He couldn’t. The weight of Damian’s hand spread over his back, steady, grounding, made the tension in his chest splinter.

Gabriel pressed his lips briefly to the crown of Arik’s curls, his brown eyes flicking over the boy’s face. "He’ll talk when he’s ready," he said quietly, but his hand didn’t stop stroking through Arik’s hair.

Arik trembled once, caught in the warmth of them both, and for the first time since the visions struck him, the pain didn’t feel like it could swallow him whole.

The silence in the room pressed close, only the faint hum of the ether conduits breaking it. Damian’s arms stayed firm around them, Gabriel’s hand steady in Arik’s curls, but the boy’s breath still trembled, uneven and shallow.

His voice cracked when it finally came, small but raw, torn open in a way that made the words sting sharper than any cry:

"Why did he," Arik whispered, golden eyes shimmering but unfocused, "from everybody else... why did he have to poison me? It hurt."

The question hung like a blade, suspended in the air, too sharp to ignore.

Gabriel stilled first. His hand froze against Arik’s hair, brown eyes darkening, a flicker of understanding snapping through his mind like a spark across ether lines. His composure fractured at the edges, but he bent his head lower, voice low and steady, as though gentleness alone could hold the boy together.

"Arik..." he murmured, his chest tightening around the impossible truth that threaded itself through those words.

Damian’s jaw flexed, golden eyes narrowing to molten slits. He didn’t move, didn’t loosen his hold, but the weight of his pheromones thickened, seeping through the air, wrapping around Gabriel and Arik like a shield. The protective edge pressed against the walls themselves, as if even the palace needed to know its emperor’s rage.

His voice, when it came, was steady, controlled for Arik’s sake but carried the steel of a man who already understood too much.

"He won’t hurt you again."

Gabriel’s hand smoothed through Arik’s curls, his touch unhurried, grounding. He bent lower, pressing his lips briefly to the boy’s temple, his brown eyes soft though shadowed with the same storm Damian carried. "Nightmares feel real, but that’s all they are, Arik. Just shadows. Nothing more."

Arik’s small hands curled tighter into Gabriel’s shirt, his chest still heaving faintly. His golden eyes glistened as he whispered, "It hurt."

"I know," Gabriel murmured, his tone quiet and firm, the kind of voice that turned truth into anchor. "But you’re here. Safe. That pain isn’t here with you anymore. It’s gone."

Damian shifted, lowering his forehead briefly against Arik’s crown, the steel in him tempered by something fiercer: love. "You’re ours. And nothing, not memory, not man, not ghost, touches what’s mine."

The boy shuddered once, caught between the fragments of a life that wasn’t his and the certainty of the arms holding him now. Slowly, his body yielded, his small frame melting back into their embrace, the warmth of their pheromones pressing away the echoes until the only thing left was the rhythm of two steady heartbeats anchoring him. The quiet was beginning to settle, Arik’s breaths evening out against Gabriel’s chest, when the wards stirred faintly again. A gentle ripple of recognition opening for someone too small to be a threat.

The door creaked, and a softer set of footsteps pattered across the floor.

Cecil.

His hair was sleep-tousled, the warm black strands falling into his silver eyes as he padded barefoot through the dim room, dragging his blanket with him. He didn’t speak, three-year-olds rarely announced themselves when instinct led them. Instead, he went straight for the bed, his small hands gripping the edge before he scrambled up with quiet determination.

Gabriel shifted just enough to make room, his brows arching faintly. "Cecil," he said softly, though not unkindly, "what are you doing out of bed?"

The boy blinked at him, solemn in the way only very small children could be, and then simply pressed himself against Arik’s side as though the question didn’t matter. His blanket fell in a heap behind him, forgotten.

Arik stirred, startled at first, but Cecil’s small body tucked against him with the weight of someone who wasn’t asking permission. One tiny hand curled into his shirt, the other fisting against the mattress as he burrowed in.

For the first time since the balcony, Arik’s rigid shoulders loosened. His breath trembled out, not quite steady but less broken, and his hand lifted slowly to rest over Cecil’s back.

Damian exhaled, low, golden eyes softening as he wrapped an arm around both boys, pulling them and Gabriel, closer into a single cocoon of warmth. Gabriel’s hand traced over Arik’s curls once more before brushing over Cecil’s hair, the boy already half-asleep, his breaths syncing easily with his brother’s.

"They find each other even in the dark," Gabriel murmured, his voice hushed, his gaze meeting Damian’s over their sons’ heads.

"And they’ll never face it alone," Damian answered, his voice low but absolute, a vow pressed into the air itself.

Arik swallowed once, pressing his face back into Gabriel’s shirt, Cecil warm and steady against his side. The pain still lingered, a ghost in his chest, but with his brother’s small weight against him and his parents’ arms around them both, the nightmare seemed further away.