Chapter 569: Two children

Dean first realized Theodore had developed a routine with the black dragon when he found him sitting cross-legged beside the western windows at seven in the morning, still wearing his pajamas.

Theo had dragged one of the cushions from the sofa onto the floor and arranged three wooden animals beside himself with considerable care. His dark hair stuck up on one side from sleep, and his bare feet disappeared beneath the hem of loose black trousers that were already becoming too short.

He was speaking quietly.

“No, because Papa said after breakfast.”

Dean stopped in the doorway.

Theo paused.

His completely black eyes remained fixed on the distant northern horizon.

Then he sighed.

“I know.”

Dean leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.

“Do I want to know?”

Theo looked around.

“Dragon wants me to come.”

“Dragon knows the answer.”

Theo nodded solemnly.

“I told him.”

Faint disappointment shifted through Dean’s connection to Arion.

Dean closed his eyes.

“Absolutely not before coffee.”

Another low vibration rolled distantly through the bond.

Dean pointed toward the windows.

“And stop encouraging him to negotiate.”

Theo looked innocent.

“He didn’t.”

“He is doing it right now.”

The child smiled.

That was how most mornings began over the following weeks.

Whatever lived deep inside the restricted forest had apparently accepted that Theodore would not be permitted to visit, but acceptance did not prevent conversation.

Dean still had no idea how much of it Theo actually understood.

The child never described clear words. He spoke instead about feelings, pictures, places, and things the creature apparently wanted him to know.

There were trees with white bark.

A lake that froze black in winter.

Something beneath stone.

Once, Theo spent an entire lunch explaining that Dragon disliked wolves because they were noisy.

Matthias nearly dropped his fork.

“The ancient one notices the wolves?”

Theo looked at him as though the answer were obvious.

“He says they walk on him.”

Silence settled around the table.

Dean slowly put down his glass.

“On him?”

Theo nodded and returned to his pasta.

Matthias stared north through the windows.

Dean decided not to ask further. They had a coronation to prepare for.

He had no intention of adding determine whether the ancient creature is large enough to function as geography to the schedule.

The problem was that Dragon had no concept of domestic timing.

Dean discovered this at two in the morning when he woke to find Theodore standing beside their bed.

Arion woke immediately.

“What happened?”

Theo hugged his stuffed bear against his chest.

“Dragon is talking.”

Dean stared at the ceiling.

Arion sat up, dark hair falling across his forehead.

“Theo, it’s bedtime.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you awake?”

“He is lonely.”

Dean dragged both hands over his face.

A faint vibration touched the connection.

Dean pushed himself upright.

No.

The presence went still.

He sleeps at night. You have survived hundreds of years. You can survive eight hours without speaking to a four-year-old.

Arion turned his head, already trying not to smile. The creature would ignore him, Matthias, or any other knight or elder, but not Dean.

The response came as a distinctly unhappy rumble.

Dean narrowed his eyes at the dark windows.

Do not argue with me.

Theo climbed onto the mattress between them.

“He says sorry.”

“I doubt that.”

Another soft vibration followed.

Arion reached over Theo and rested his hand against Dean’s thigh.

“I think that one actually was apologetic.”

“Good.”

Dean pulled the blanket over Theo.

“You can sleep here tonight, but tomorrow you go back to your own bed.”

Theo nodded.

Within five minutes, he was asleep between them.

Dean lay awake longer.

Something ancient was apparently sulking in the forest because Dean had imposed a bedtime.

Wonderful.

It became part of daily life with disturbing ease.

At least once a day, Dean found himself addressing the connection.

He is eating. Stop distracting him.

Or:

He has lessons. You can wait.

And once, when Theo abandoned half his dinner because something had captured his attention beyond the windows:

If you interrupt meals again, I will personally teach Matthias how to block you.

The resulting grumble lasted almost ten seconds.

Matthias had looked delighted.

“You threaten him like family.”

Dean had stared at him.

“I threaten everyone like family.”

“That is my point.”

Dean dismissed it.

Until one rainy afternoon shortly before they were due to leave for Draxil.

Theo had fallen asleep across the sofa after spending the morning with Minerva, one small hand curled against his cheek while Ducky slept beneath him and Boreas occupied most of the rug.

Dean sat nearby reviewing coronation protocols on his tablet.

The creature stirred faintly through the connection.

Dean felt attention settle toward Theo, checking the kid.

The way Arion sometimes paused in the middle of work because something in him wanted to know where their son was.

Dean sighed.

He is asleep.

A quiet pulse answered.

Yes, he ate lunch.

Another.

Dean lowered the tablet.

“You are ridiculous.”

The presence rumbled softly.

Dean looked at Theo.

His child was four years old, healthy, clever enough to negotiate with ancient things, polite when he remembered, endlessly adored, and currently drooling slightly onto one of the sofa cushions.

Dean smiled despite himself.

For weeks he had complained that he felt as though he were managing two children.

Theo and something possibly older than the empire.

Except he did not actually mind it.

The realization came quietly. Then another followed.

Dean looked at Theo again.

A second child.

Not an ancient beast demanding attention through a forest connection.

Theo becoming an older brother.

Dean imagined Arion holding another newborn with that same terrified tenderness he had once tried to hide, imagined Theo hovering beside a crib and asking too many questions, imagined their already crowded family becoming worse.

His chest tightened.

Dean stared at the tablet without seeing the coronation schedule anymore.

“Oh.”

The distant presence stirred.

Dean frowned toward the windows.

“This does not concern you.”

A faint rumble answered.

He ignored it.

Arion came home an hour later.

Dean waited until Theo was awake and had disappeared with Matthias to choose clothes for dinner.

Then he found Arion in their dressing room, removing his cufflinks after an afternoon meeting.

“I want another baby.”

Arion dropped one.

The small gold piece struck the carpet.

Neither moved.

Arion slowly turned.

Dean folded his arms.

“I said I want another child.”

“I heard you.”

“You look like you didn’t.”

“I heard you very clearly.”

Dean watched his expression shift through surprise, calculation, and something warmer that Arion did not manage to hide quickly enough.

“You wanted more,” Dean said.

“Yes.”

“But you never asked.”

“You were the one who had to carry Theo.”

Arion crossed the room.

Dean let him come close, let familiar vetiver settle around them before Arion’s hands found his waist.

“Are you sure?”

Dean smiled.

“This time, yes.”

Arion kissed him slowly.

When they separated, his forehead remained against Dean’s.

From somewhere down the corridor, Theo yelled, “PAPA!”

Dean closed his eyes.

Arion laughed.

Then the ancient presence rumbled faintly through the connection too.

Dean pointed toward the windows without moving away from his husband.

“You are not getting a vote.”

The rumble came again.

Arion laughed harder.

Dean decided that perhaps two children would still be easier than this.