Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL) Chapter 510 - 504: We can rule without you

Marin’s office was quiet, the faint hum of ether monitors filling the air, the walls lined with cabinets of neatly labeled files. The physician, a man in his seventies now, with sharp eyes dulled only by years of dealing with imperial dramatics, leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach.

"I’ve seen everything," he muttered, watching Gabriel settle elegantly into the seat opposite. "Emperors bleeding out, ogas in shock, alphas half-dead from ruts they swore they could control. Nothing surprises anymore."

Gabriel arched a brow, black hair falling neatly against his pale temple. "Mm. That’s convenient. Because I imagine this will test your theory."

Marin gave him a long-suffering look. "You’re not pregnant again."

"I am," Gabriel said simply, crossing one leg over the other with infuriating poise. "With twins."

For a mont, the only sound in the room was the faint hiss of an ether line cycling through the monitors.

Marin stared. Then blinked. Then he leaned forward with both elbows on his desk, voice flat. "Twins."

"Twins," Gabriel confird, brown eyes cool, unbothered.

Marin pressed his fingers to his temples. "You already have three sons. You swore to after Orfeo that you were done. That your body had reached its limit."

"I did," Gabriel agreed lightly. "Damian and I both agreed. We weren’t trying. Which is why this is fate, not intent."

Marin groaned, pushing his chair back. "Fate? No, Majesty. This is madness. Your body barely held after Orfeo. You hide it well, but you’ve pushed yourself further than any oga I’ve ever treated." He gestured sharply. "And now twins?"

Gabriel’s lips curved faintly, sharp and amused. "You’re repeating yourself, Marin. And frankly, you look like a man who’s lost a bet."

"I am a man who’s lost a bet," Marin snapped, throwing his hands up. "I told Edward nothing could shock again. Damn him."

Gabriel chuckled under his breath, pale fingers brushing an invisible fleck from his trousers. "Then I’ve done you a favor. You’ll live longer now that you’ve been proven wrong."

Marin gave him a look that could have felled armies. "You’ll be the death of , Gabriel."

"Perhaps," Gabriel said, utterly unbothered. "But not before I give you two more imperial patients to monitor."

Marin groaned again, muttering sothing about regretting not retiring at the right ti, while Gabriel sat serene and smug across from him, as though he hadn’t just dropped the kind of revelation that could tilt the palace on its head.

—

The wards shimred as Gabriel stepped into his quarters, composed as ever. Inside, the atmosphere was anything but.

Edward was slumped in an armchair like a man robbed of all will to live. Damian sat with his head in one hand, golden eyes fixed sowhere in the middle distance. And Arik was pacing the carpet in sharp, restless strides, warm black hair falling into his eyes.

All three turned toward him at once.

"You’d think I declared war," Gabriel remarked dryly, brown eyes glinting with amusent, "instead of pregnancy."

Damian groaned into his palm. "Twins, Gabriel. After we agreed, no more."

"We agreed not to try," Gabriel corrected smoothly, crossing the room with unhurried grace. He brushed a pale hand across Damian’s shoulder as he passed. "Fate, it seems, had other plans. As usual."

Damian’s golden eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Arik spun to face him, golden eyes burning hot. "Twins? After Orfeo, you could barely get out of bed for weeks. You looked..." He stopped himself, breath sharp. "You can’t just act like this is nothing."

Gabriel tilted his head, considering him, lips curving faintly. "Arik. You’re being dramatic. I was tired, not dying. There’s a difference."

Arik stared, incredulous. "Tired? You could hardly stand without Father hovering at your elbow. You fell asleep in the middle of a council eting."

"That happened once," Gabriel replied, unbothered, "and frankly, the eting was tedious enough to warrant it."

Damian snorted despite himself, though he quickly masked it behind his hand.

Gabriel settled elegantly into a chair, brown eyes steady. "I won’t deny it will be difficult. Twins always are. But I am not made of glass. I’ve carried three sons already, and I’ll carry two more. With or without your theatrics."

Arik pressed both hands through his hair, groaning like the ceiling had fallen in. "Gods, you terrify ."

"Good," Gabriel murmured, lips curving into a wicked little smile. "Then you’ll stay out of trouble."

Damian chuckled low, shaking his head. "Impossible. He’s yours, after all."

Edward groaned louder, muffled into his hand. "And mine, unfortunately. I’m the one who has to plan all this."

Gabriel sipped from the glass of water waiting on the table, serene as a saint, while the n around him fell apart.

Arik dropped into the chair beside Damian, still half-panicked, half-defiant. "Then let take more of your load. If you’re insisting on doing this, at least stop working yourself into exhaustion. I can handle council schedules, infrastructure audits, the ambassadors..."

Gabriel’s lips curved faintly, brown eyes glinting. "Good."

Arik blinked. "Good?"

Gabriel folded his hands in his lap, elegant and utterly unbothered. "Yes. You’re the Crown Prince. It’s about ti you absorbed the tedium anyway. I’ll leave the diplomacy, the scheduling, and half the ministries to you. That way I can dedicate myself to what actually matters."

Arik frowned, golden eyes narrowing with suspicion. "...Which is?"

"The ether network," Gabriel said smoothly, as if the answer were obvious. "The infrastructure is fragile, the distribution uneven, and the nobles are already circling to exploit it. I’d rather spend my ti ensuring no one can tamper with the veins that feed the empire."

Damian groaned into his hand, though his mouth curved faintly. "Of course. Twins on the way, and you want to spend your energy redesigning the most complicated system in the empire."

Gabriel glanced at him, sharp and serene. "Would you prefer I waste my ti listening to the Ministry of Culture debate drapery colors? Arik can handle that. He’s young. Resilient."

Arik sputtered. "Drapery? That’s what you’re dumping on ?"

"And foreign ambassadors. And provincial trade disputes. And the annual gala planning." Gabriel’s tone was light, but his eyes glead with quiet satisfaction. "All things I find insufferable. Congratulations, Arik. You’ve been promoted."

Damian leaned back, golden eyes glinting with amusent. "Welco to adulthood, son. You’ll live."

Arik dropped his face into his hands, groaning. "Gods, you’re both impossible."

Gabriel sipped his water, unbothered. "And thorough."

Arik groaned into his hands, still muttering under his breath about drapery and trade disputes, when the wards at the door chid again.

Damian didn’t even look up. "If that’s Edward back with more bad news, I’m throwing him out the window."

It wasn’t Edward.

Cecil slipped inside first, neat as ever in his pressed suit, silver eyes cool, his presence quieter but no less sharp. Orfeo followed, all restless energy and wide curiosity, his pale green eyes darting from his mother to his brother and back again.

"Is it true?" Orfeo blurted the mont the door shut. "About the twins?"

Arik’s head shot up. "How do you already know?"

"Because the palace staff can’t keep their mouths shut," Cecil replied evenly, slipping into the chair opposite Gabriel. "Half the kitchens are whispering." He glanced at Gabriel, his expression unreadable but steady. "So it’s true."

Gabriel inclined his head, calm as ever. "It’s true."

Orfeo grinned, flopping into the seat beside Arik. "Two more little brothers! Or maybe sisters! That ans we’ll finally outnumber you."

Arik groaned louder. "Gods, no."

Damian chuckled low, clearly enjoying himself.

Cecil, anwhile, folded his hands neatly in his lap, studying Gabriel with sharp, steady eyes. "You’ll hand your work to Arik." It wasn’t a question.

"Of course," Gabriel replied smoothly. "He’s old enough, capable enough, and irritating enough to deserve it."

Cecil’s lips curved faintly, the closest he ever ca to a smirk. "Then I suppose I’ll have to pick up what he inevitably misses."

Arik shot him a look, golden eyes narrowing. "Excuse ?"

"You don’t read details carefully enough," Cecil said, entirely unbothered. "I’ll make sure nothing explodes."

Damian laughed outright, golden eyes gleaming. "See? Even your brothers are eager to help."

"I hate this family," Arik muttered, slumping further into his chair.

Orfeo leaned his chin on the armrest, smirking. "You’ll survive, big brother. And if not, don’t worry. Cecil and I will rule just fine without you."

Arik groaned again, and Gabriel sipped his water, perfectly serene as chaos blood around him.