Chapter 565: Autumn

Three years changed the palace more than Dean expected.

Not structurally.

The Crown Prince’s residence still had the same wide corridors, the same terrace overlooking the western gardens, and the same infuriating tendency to become too quiet whenever Theodore disappeared somewhere he was not supposed to be.

The difference was that Theo could now explain exactly where he had been.

Usually at length.

"I was not hiding," he announced from the carpet in front of the fireplace, where he sat surrounded by wooden animals, two toy vehicles, and Ducky, who had become considerably greyer around the muzzle without developing any greater respect for household rules. "I was looking."

Dean lowered the book in his hands.

"Inside your father’s wardrobe."

"Yes."

"For what?"

Theo considered this carefully.

"My black dragon."

"You do not own a black dragon."

Theo hummed.

Arion, stretched across the other end of the sofa with one ankle resting over his knee, covered his mouth.

Dean turned toward him.

"Do not encourage him."

"I said nothing."

"You are laughing."

"I am allowed."

Theo looked between them with bright gold eyes, apparently pleased with himself.

At four years old, he had become difficult to ignore even when he was not speaking. His dark hair had grown thick enough to curl slightly around his ears, his pheromonal profile remained faint but increasingly distinct, and the black-eye shifts that once terrified everyone now appeared so casually that nobody in the household reacted unless an outsider happened to be present.

The public adored him.

The extended family adored him more.

Dean had gradually developed a theory that none of Arion’s siblings actually wanted children of their own.

They simply wanted Theo.

Rina treated him like a personal accomplice. Castor had taught him three games Dean had subsequently banned inside the residence. Otto regularly rearranged imperial meetings around Theo’s visits, while Minerva had stopped pretending that the small gifts appearing in the nursery were occasional.

Even the relatives who had spent years treating Dean as a heroic survivor for producing one child behaved as though Theo belonged collectively to Alamina.

Dean had given up correcting that rumor too.

Apparently pregnancy, emergency delivery, and one premature baby had elevated him permanently into the category of brave royal parent enduring unimaginable sacrifice.

It did not matter that Theo was four.

People remained impressed.

Dean found this insulting on principle.

"You are thinking about hitting someone again," Arion said.

Dean glanced at him.

"No."

"That expression says otherwise."

"I am thinking about your family."

"Ah."

Arion nodded as though that explained everything.

Outside, autumn rain tapped softly against the tall windows, turning the gardens beyond them dark green and copper beneath a heavy grey sky. The fire had been lit early because Theo liked it, although Boreas occupied so much of the rug in front of the hearth that the child had been forced to build his current wooden city several feet to the left.

Dean looked toward Arion again.

Three years had changed him too.

Not visibly enough for strangers to notice, perhaps, but Dean knew every difference.

The first year after Marius had been the worst.

Arion continued restoring knights, slowly and under increasingly strict medical protocols, while Victor monitored every glandular fluctuation and Dean remained close enough to neutralize the corrupted feedback whenever necessary.

Younger knights generally caused little difficulty.

The elders did.

Marius eventually explained why.

Arion had not inherited the controller structure naturally.

He had survived corruption as a child, integrated it through his sigma physiology, and awakened the deeper ability only after Veyra forced the system fully open. Every time he restored an elder whose body had spent decades stabilized in corrupted form, Arion effectively fought against a biological structure his own body had acquired rather than been built to manage.

The distinction was enormous.

Theo would not have the same problem.

He had been born with it.

Marius described Theodore’s biology as complete where Arion’s was adapted.

Victor hated the terminology but agreed with the mechanism.

The knowledge had ended most arguments about restoring the oldest knights.

Not because anyone intended to let a four-year-old child anywhere near such responsibility.

Quite the opposite.

Victor, Matthias, Marius, and Dean had formed an unusually effective alliance and refused to let Arion keep damaging himself simply because Theo might someday possess the ability more safely.

Several elders remained in the forest.

And, according to Matthias, perfectly willing to wait now that they knew they had not been abandoned.

"You’re doing it again," Dean said.

Arion looked away from the window.

"Doing what?"

"Thinking about the forest."

"I was thinking about Sebastian."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"That is somehow less expected."

Arion smiled.

The news from Saha had arrived that morning.

Sebastian’s transition into a dominant omega was progressing normally, if slowly, and the marriage preparations had moved from theoretical to unavoidable.

Nero, predictably, was unbearable.

Dean had received six messages in two days.

Only one had technically been about Sebastian’s health.

The remaining five concerned ceremony arrangements, security, guest lists, and Nero informing Dean that Theo required formal clothing appropriate for standing near the royal family.

Theo was already royal family.

Nero had ignored that detail.

"He seems happy," Arion said.

"Sebastian?"

"Nero."

"That is because he finally got what he has wanted for years."

Dean closed his book.

"And Sebastian chose it."

That distinction still mattered to him.

Probably always would.

Theo suddenly looked up from the floor.

"Uncle Sebastian is getting married."

"Yes."

"To Uncle Nero?"

"Yes."

Theo frowned.

"Again?"

Dean blinked.

"They have never been married before."

Theo looked deeply suspicious of this information.

"But Uncle Nero talks like they are."

Arion laughed.

Dean pointed at him.

"That is not wrong."

Theo accepted this and returned to arranging wooden animals beside Ducky.

A knock sounded from the corridor.

Matthias entered moments later, carrying a small parcel beneath one arm.

Theo immediately abandoned his city.

"Matthias!"

The former elder barely had time to set the parcel down before Theo collided with his legs.

Matthias caught him automatically.

"Careful."

"I am careful."

Dean looked at Arion.

Arion wisely said nothing.

Matthias had aged normally since restoration.

Silver had begun threading through his black hair, and the lines around his eyes had deepened slightly. He wore no formal guardian uniform inside the residence anymore unless protocol required it, only dark trousers and a wool jacket damp at the shoulders from the rain.

"What is that?" Theo asked, already inspecting the parcel.

"Not yours."

Theo looked offended.

"That has never stopped him," Dean said.

Matthias smiled.

"It is from Lady Sylvia."

Dean sat straighter.

"She sent something already?"

"She and Thomas returned home this morning."

That explained it.

Sylvia had visited several weeks earlier, newly pregnant and glowing with equal parts happiness and irritation because Thomas had apparently decided pregnancy meant she could no longer encounter stairs unsupervised.

Dean sympathized.

He had also laughed.

Thomas had become so protective that Sylvia threatened to assign him a chair outside every room simply so he could hover efficiently without obstructing doorways.

"She is doing well?" Arion asked.

"According to her message."

Matthias handed Dean the parcel.

Inside was a small card and several photographs from the visit, including one of Theo standing between Sylvia and Thomas while Thomas’s hand hovered unnecessarily near Sylvia’s elbow.

Dean smiled.

"Thomas looks terrified."

"He should be," Arion said. "Sylvia will eventually lose patience."

Theo climbed onto the sofa between them.

"Is there a baby?"

"Yes," Dean said.

"When?"

"Not for a while."

Theo considered that.

"Can I teach it to walk?"

Arion pulled him against his side.

"You may need to wait until the baby can hold its own head up first."

Theo sighed dramatically.

"That is long."

Dean looked at his son, then at Arion beside him, while rain continued against the windows and Matthias settled into the armchair near the fire.

Three years ago their lives had been medical reports, corrupted forests, sleepless nights, and a premature infant whose future nobody could predict.

Now Theo was arguing about how long babies took to become interesting.

Dean decided he preferred this problem.