Chapter 581: Green light

By the middle of November, the palace had developed the strange rhythm of a household preparing to change emperors while simultaneously pretending daily life remained normal.

The transition itself would take close to a year.

If the gods were merciful.

Dean had started using that qualification every time someone showed him another schedule.

Otto had no intention of abandoning the throne overnight, and neither Arion nor the council wanted that. Authority would move gradually, ministry by ministry and responsibility by responsibility, until Arion was already functioning almost entirely as emperor before the formal transfer happened.

The first visible consequence was considerably less ceremonial.

They had to move.

Arion’s current residence had been designed for the crown prince and his family. Comfortable, heavily secured, large enough for Theo, staff, security, and the increasingly unreasonable number of animals attached to them.

It was not the imperial household.

The main palace was.

So boxes had begun appearing in corridors.

Theo’s books moved first because somebody had optimistically assumed a four-year-old would not notice.

He noticed.

Then came Dean’s office records, Arion’s private archives, formal wardrobes, family belongings, security equipment, household staff schedules, Boreas’s enormous bed, and enough dog supplies to make the relocation team question whether twelve restored former beasts genuinely needed individual preferences recorded.

They did.

Ducky refused to eat from metal bowls.

Nobody knew why.

"The emperor’s household," Dean said one morning while watching staff carry another crate through the corridor, "is going to contain a dog named Ducky."

Arion signed a transfer document without looking up.

"The empire will survive."

"Future historians may not."

Theo ran past them carrying the wooden dragon from Draxil.

Boreas followed.

Ducky chased Boreas.

Two attendants followed Ducky.

Dean watched the procession disappear.

"This is going extremely well."

Arion finally looked up.

"We have eleven months."

"Do not say that as though it is generous."

The official work was worse.

Council briefings shifted gradually toward Arion. Ministries that had once reported directly to Otto now copied him into nearly everything, while Zyon had acquired another filing cabinet and announced that storage furniture had officially become part of imperial succession policy.

The move into the main palace meant the empress’s offices would soon be physically closer.

Dean was not convinced this was a benefit.

Somewhere among all of that, Arion still had the forest.

The scientists working with Victor were attempting to rename the system connecting the remaining infected, restored elders, beasts, and Arion himself.

So far, they had failed.

"Collective" suggested a shared consciousness.

"Network" made Victor complain that people were not electrical wiring.

One researcher suggested "pheromonal convergence structure."

Victor had apparently stared at him until the man withdrew the proposal himself.

Everyone still called it the link.

Arion checked it every morning and evening.

The forest had become calmer over the years, but the older infected sat deeper inside the structure, their presence broader and more difficult to ignore. Arion could distinguish disturbances now without consciously searching: younger beasts moving near restricted borders, an elder in discomfort, a section of the territory reacting to researchers.

And beneath all of it remained the ancient one.

Blocked.

The barrier between it and Theo held perfectly.

Dean found Arion checking it one evening after dinner, dark-gold lines faint beneath the skin of his wrist while his attention extended far beyond the palace.

Theo sat on the carpet nearby, building a fortress around the wooden dragon.

Dean dropped onto the sofa beside Arion.

"Still sulking?"

Arion opened his eyes.

"Quiet today."

"That sounds suspicious."

"It exists suspiciously."

Dean could not argue with that.

The ancient presence had stopped pushing hard against the barrier, but it remained there, waiting beyond something Arion had imposed between it and his son.

Theo had adjusted remarkably well.

He occasionally mentioned the real Dragon, but without the constant contact, the obsession had faded. Most of his attention had transferred to the carved version from Draxil, which currently appeared to be defending several wooden horses from an overturned storage basket.

Theo looked up.

"When we move, Dragon comes with me."

Dean glanced at Arion.

Arion rubbed his forehead.

"The wooden one does."

Theo seemed satisfied with that distinction.

One problem solved.

The other arrived in the form of Seven.

Dean and Arion had finally completed every test Seven wanted before they attempted another pregnancy.

Dean endured hormone panels, bloodwork, imaging, nutritional screening, cycle tracking, and another examination of the scar from Theo’s C-section.

Arion got his own round of tests, including glandular evaluation after the restoration backlash and enough reproductive screening that he accused Seven of treating conception like military deployment.

Seven had not disagreed.

The result came that morning.

Healthy.

Both of them.

No reason to postpone trying once Dean’s approaching heat properly began.

Dean had intended to tell Arion privately.

Unfortunately, their family remained their family.

Otto and Minerva were still in the sitting room after dinner, reviewing one of the main-palace renovation plans because Theo’s new rooms apparently needed a connecting security corridor. Rina and her husband had arrived halfway through dessert and never left.

Rina noticed Dean’s medical envelope almost immediately.

"You got the results."

Dean looked at her.

"That was not an invitation."

"It wasn’t subtle either."

Arion glanced toward the envelope on the side table.

Minerva lowered the floor plan.

Otto developed sudden interest.

Dean sighed.

"Everything is fine. Seven cleared us."

Minerva smiled first.

Rina’s expression brightened dangerously.

Dean’s heat was still far enough away that his pheromones had not changed.

His mouth, unfortunately, had.

"We have the green light for fucking."

Silence consumed the room.

Arion turned his head very slowly.

Rina collapsed against her husband.

Otto closed his eyes.

Minerva stared over the top of the palace plans.

Theo remained on the carpet, fortunately occupied with placing the dragon on Boreas’s enormous paw.

Arion’s expression remained perfectly flat.

"You had several available ways to phrase that."

Dean leaned back into the sofa.

"I chose the honest one."

"You chose the one that made my father regret postponing retirement."

Otto opened his eyes.

"I am reconsidering the one-year transition."

Rina laughed harder.

Dean pointed toward her.

"Have your own child and stop enjoying mine."

Her husband covered his face.

Minerva returned her attention to the floor plans with a dignity nobody else had maintained.

"Perhaps reproductive planning should continue after Theodore goes to bed."

Dean glanced toward Theo.

The child was explaining to Boreas that the dragon needed protection during the move and had apparently heard nothing useful.

"Fair."

Arion reached for Dean’s hand.

The unimpressed expression remained, but his thumb moved once across Dean’s knuckles.

Dean smiled.

"You are available for the plan, though."

Arion looked at him.

"Completely."

Otto stood.

"That is where Minerva and I leave."

"For once," Minerva said, rising with the plans, "I agree with the timing of your retirement."

Rina had to be physically pulled from the sofa by her husband because she was still laughing.

Within minutes, the room emptied.

Theo went upstairs soon afterward with his dragon tucked beneath one arm and Ducky following him.

Dean remained beside Arion on the sofa.

Around them, half-packed crates waited for their move into the imperial palace.

Dean looked toward Arion.

"So."

Arion sighed.

"Never call it the green light again."

Dean moved closer.

"No promises."

Arion kissed him anyway.