Chapter 121: Chapter 121: Imperial brothers (2)

Charles swallowed, jaw working like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find a lie that fit.

Gabriel leaned back slightly, shifting Arik higher on his hip as the baby made a low, offended sound at the tension in the room.

“How am I to blame for this?” Gabriel asked, and it wasn’t cruel. It was factual. “I didn’t march you into that wing. I didn’t make you swing. I didn’t make you loud.”

Charles’s voice went tight. “You’re my brother.”

Gabriel’s gaze didn’t soften, but it steadied. “I know.”

He adjusted Arik again, palm firm at the baby’s back, because Arik had opinions about loud voices and apparently intended to file them immediately.

“Charles,” Gabriel continued, “you know I’m not going to contest Damian’s order just because you’re my brother. If it was unfairness, real unfairness, I’d burn the room down first and ask questions later.” His mouth quirked slightly, sharp and familiar. “But this isn’t unfair. It’s inconvenient.”

Charles’s eyes flashed. “Inconvenient.”

“You like the work,” Gabriel said, and his tone made it sound like an accusation. “You hate Gregoris, yes, but you like being good at something that matters. You like having power with purpose, even when you pretend you don’t.”

Charles opened his mouth—

Gabriel cut him off gently. “And Gregoris,” he added, “is the only one who can teach you what you are, or Damian. You don’t get a softer option because you’re stubborn.”

Irina pretended she wasn’t listening, which was a lie. Alexandra leaned on the edge of the desk like she’d bought a ticket.

Edward hovered near the door with signatures, frozen in the unique terror of a man trapped between imperial siblings having feelings.

Charles’s jaw tightened, and then – because he was still Charles, second-born and allergic to surrender – he turned, like he needed an external witness to validate his suffering.

His gaze landed on Rafael.

“How do you deal with that monster?” Charles demanded.

Rafael didn’t look up from the file in his hands at first. He took his time, like he was deciding whether Charles deserved an answer or a lesson.

Then he lifted his eyes – cool, unimpressed, very much the man who had survived Gregoris and married him anyway.

“I don’t deal with him,” Rafael said, calm as a blade. “I negotiate with him.”

Charles stared. “That’s the same thing.”

“It isn’t,” Rafael replied. “Dealing implies he has the power and I endure it.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

Rafael’s mouth curved, faint and sharp. “And I don’t endure.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched, amused. Alexandra looked delighted. Irina’s lips pressed together like she was trying not to laugh out loud.

Charles looked between Rafael and Gabriel, frustration rising. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” Rafael said. “It’s just not the comforting one.”

Charles huffed. “So what—”

Rafael tilted his head slightly, as if offering a clinical explanation. “You stop trying to win by screaming. Gregoris doesn’t speak that language. You win by being competent.”

Charles blinked, offended. “I am competent.”

Rafael’s gaze slid over him, cool and assessing. “When you want to be.”

That hit.

Charles’ jaw clenched, and he gave up trying, letting out a long sigh and collapsing into the armchair beside Rafael.

Rafael’s mouth twitched, because unfortunately, Charles collapsing into furniture like an overgrown dramatic cat was the most consistent thing about him.

He didn’t move his files. He didn’t make room. He simply let Charles take up space beside him and watched him suffer with the calm of a man who had learned that suffering was sometimes educational.

Charles stared at the ceiling for a beat, then turned his head and looked at Gabriel with the expression of someone petitioning a cruel deity.

“So it’s non-negotiable,” Charles said, letting the words die into a long, defeated sigh. Then he flopped harder into the armchair as if gravity itself had betrayed him. “Can I have my nephew for comfort?”

Gabriel didn’t even blink. “He is teething.”

Charles looked at Arik like Arik personally owed him emotional support.

Arik stared back, damp-cheeked and furious at the universe, fist clenched around a chewed corner of Gabriel’s sleeve as if he would drag his father into battle if necessary.

Charles nodded slowly. “Still better than any of you.”

Alexandra made a small sound that could’ve been a laugh if she didn’t have pride.

Irina actually did laugh, quickly, then covered it with a cough like she respected her own survival.

Rafael leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with faint amusement. “You want comfort from a baby who’s currently trying to bite through imperial silk.”

“I want comfort from someone,” Charles snapped, then softened immediately into melodrama again. “And the baby doesn’t judge me.”

Gabriel’s gaze flicked to him. “The baby judges everyone.”

As if to prove it, Arik made an indignant noise and shoved his fist into his mouth with the determination of a tiny tyrant.

Charles pointed at him like he’d found religion. “At least he is cute and innocent.”

Rafael’s eyes slid to Charles, flat. “He is neither innocent nor on your side.”

Charles blinked, offended on principle. “He’s a baby.”

“Yes,” Rafael said, as if that explained everything. “Babies are tiny dictators. They just don’t have the vocabulary yet.”

Arik chose that moment to make a sharp, wet sound of betrayal at the universe and bite down harder on Gabriel’s sleeve. Gabriel didn’t react beyond shifting his grip with calm of a man who had signed up for this and was now living with the consequences.

Alexandra’s smile widened. “He’s not innocent, Charles. He’s imperial.”

Irina, still trying to look respectable, murmured, “He’s also teething. That’s basically war.”

Charles stared at Arik like he’d been personally wronged. “He’s cute.”

Gabriel’s gaze stayed on his brother. “He is armed.”

Arik lifted his head, cheeks damp, eyes bright with fury, and then reached toward Charles with a sticky hand, fingers opening and closing like a tiny, demanding sea creature.

Charles went still. Hope flickered across his face, ridiculous and sincere. “He wants me.”

Gabriel’s mouth quirked. “He wants your hair.”

Rafael didn’t look up from his file. “He wants to see what you’d do if someone finally pulled you into responsibility by force.”

Charles shot him a glare. “You’re awful.”

“I’m honest,” Rafael replied, and turned a page with the calm cruelty of a man who didn’t have to raise his voice to win.

Charles leaned closer anyway, because of course he did. He raised one finger toward Arik, cautious, like he was negotiating with a bomb.

Arik’s little hand snapped shut around it with shocking strength.

Charles froze.

Arik yanked.

Charles’s breath caught. “Ow.”

Gabriel watched, entirely unimpressed. “He’s gentle.”

Arik made a sound that could’ve been satisfaction, then immediately tried to shove Charles’s finger into his own mouth like he’d decided this was now a shared problem.

Charles panicked. “No – no, absolutely not—”

Rafael finally lifted his gaze, eyes cool. “Congratulations. You’ve been selected.”

Charles looked at Gabriel like he’d been betrayed by blood. “Tell him to stop.”

Gabriel’s tone stayed calm, younger-brother patience stretched thin over older-brother audacity. “You wanted comfort.”

“I wanted…” Charles hissed as Arik yanked again. “Emotional comfort.”

Alexandra leaned on the desk, delighted. “You’re getting it. In the form of character development.”

Irina’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Edward, still hovering by the door with his signatures, stared at the ceiling like it contained salvation.

Arik released Charles’s finger with sudden disinterest and immediately turned his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, rubbing his gums against the fabric like the world had personally wronged him.

Charles cradled his hand dramatically. “He assaulted me.”

Gabriel adjusted Arik higher, voice dry. “He tested you.”

Rafael went back to his paperwork. “And you failed.”

Charles stared at him, wounded. “I did not fail.”

Rafael’s eyes flicked up, faintly amused. “You survived, didn’t you? That’s the empire’s minimum standard for you.”

Charles opened his mouth to argue.

Gabriel cut in, soft only in the way a blade could be soft when it stopped before cutting. “Charles.”

Charles froze, because that tone meant Gabriel was done letting him perform.

Gabriel’s gaze held his. “You’re not going to die under Gregoris. You’re going to become useful. And you’re going to stop coming in here like a tragedy when the only thing happening is that you’re being made to grow up.”

Charles stared at him.

Then, quietly, he muttered, “I hate all of you.”

Alexandra smiled like a proud sister watching a miracle. “Good. That means you heard him.”

Arik made a small, offended sound into Gabriel’s shoulder, as if he agreed with the general sentiment.

Gabriel patted his back once, steady. “See? Even he understands.”

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