Chapter 158: Chapter 158: Godfather at last. [Win-Win]

Damian exhaled once, controlled, and returned his attention to the console. “Rafael,” he said mildly, “that’s… an interesting condition.”

“It’s a necessary one,” Rafael replied, still soft. “If you’re going to be in her life, you’re not doing it alone.”

A pause, then Damian asked, “You’re assigning Gabriel to supervise me?”

Rafael didn’t flinch. “I’m assigning Gabriel to balance you,” he corrected. “He keeps you human.”

From the other end of the line, Gabriel made a sound that was both a laugh and a warning. “He’s not wrong.”

Damian’s mouth twitched. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s tone was warm in that dangerous way it only got when Natalie was involved. “Yes?”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re approving this very quickly.”

“Because I like her,” Gabriel said simply.

There was a faint shift of fabric on the line, then a soft, delighted sound – Gabriel, apparently, doing something he’d never admit to in public. Probably making a face at an infant.

Rafael’s voice gentled a fraction at the sounds of his daughter. “She likes you too.”

Damian’s gaze sharpened. “She’s a month old.”

“And yet,” Gabriel said, unbothered, “she has opinions.”

Natalie gave a tiny squeak, indignant or pleased, and Gabriel’s voice went softer, entirely without shame. “Yes, I heard you. You’re perfect.”

Gregoris’ grin widened.

Damian stared at the console like it had personally betrayed him by allowing Gabriel to sound like that.

“You have no problem with being her godfather,” Damian said, flatly, as if he couldn’t decide whether it was unfair or inevitable.

Gabriel’s answer was immediate. “None.”

Damian’s eyes gleamed, recalculating. “Even knowing it will be political.”

Gabriel’s voice sharpened. “Everything near you becomes political. Don’t pretend this is special.”

Rafael cut in. “We’re not doing it for politics. We’re doing it for protection and accountability.”

Damian’s mouth curved faintly. “Accountability.”

“Yes,” Rafael said, and it was still soft, but it landed like a lock clicking into place. “If you’re one godfather, you’re a crown. If you’re two, you’re a promise that has a witness built in.”

Gregoris watched Damian’s face very closely.

Damian wasn’t annoyed. He was… impressed.

And that was worse, because Damian’s admiration was how he chose new weapons.

Damian’s gaze shifted back to Gregoris, and for a heartbeat, something passed between them: recognition.

Damian understood. He understood exactly why Gregoris had warned him about Rafael in the first place. Because this wasn’t just backbone. It was strategy. The kind that is held without shouting.

Rafael had just managed something most commanders never did: he’d set a boundary on Damian, and Damian had listened.

Damian’s voice went quiet. “Rafael.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

Damian held the line for a beat. “If Gabriel hadn’t found you first…”

Gregoris’ grin turned sharp with vindication.

Damian finished evenly, almost conversationally. “I would have recruited you.”

There was a pause on the line.

Rafael didn’t sound flattered. He sounded certain. “I know,” he said softly. “That’s why there are rules.”

Gabriel huffed, amused. “He’s right. There are rules. And if you try to wiggle around them, I’ll make you regret it.”

Damian’s mouth twitched. “Noted.”

Rafael continued, calm and immovable. “So. Two godfathers. No warded gifts. No ’protective’ trinkets. No magic around her. She’s a baby, not a battlefield.”

Damian’s brows lifted. “This palace—”

Rafael cut him off politely, without any heat. “The palace can keep its wards. You cannot add to them through her.”

Damian went still for half a heartbeat, then nodded once. “Agreed.”

Gregoris raised his brows slightly, impressed despite himself.

Damian, as if remembering he needed the last condition, asked, “And Gregoris.”

Rafael’s voice softened again, but it didn’t bend. “He must agree.”

In the imperial office, Damian looked at Gregoris.

Gregoris looked back.

And Damian, in that glance, seemed to understand the whole structure at once: Rafael was reinforcing Gregoris’s authority, pairing the Empire’s protection with the household’s, tying power to restraint, and making sure Natalie’s safety didn’t depend on anyone’s mood.

Damian nodded once. “It’s sensible,” he said quietly.

Gregoris’ grin faded into something colder. “It’s necessary.”

Damian’s gaze returned to the console. “Rafael,” he said, “you have my agreement. And Gabriel’s.”

Gabriel’s voice was almost smug. “Obviously.”

Natalie made another tiny sound, sleepy this time, and Gabriel’s tone softened again. “Yes, little one. You’re getting an emperor, and you’re getting me. Terrible luck.”

Rafael’s breath eased. “Then we’ll do the documents properly,” he said. “Bound, witnessed, and with the conditions written in ink, not implied.”

Damian’s voice was calm and decisive. “Send the draft. I’ll sign.”

Gabriel cut in immediately. “I’ll read it first.”

Damian sighed. “Of course you will.”

Gregoris spoke at last, low and flat, the last line of defense. “And if you show up with anything that glows—”

Damian’s mouth curved faintly. “It won’t glow.”

Gregoris’ eyes narrowed. “If it hums—”

“It won’t hum.”

“If it has runes—”

“No runes,” Damian said, too quickly, like a man swearing off a vice.

Rafael’s voice stayed soft. “Good.”

Gabriel’s was dry. “I can’t believe we have to say that out loud.”

Damian ended the call a moment later, clean and efficient.

The imperial office returned to its quiet hum.

Gregoris looked at Damian, still faintly grinning.

“You,” Gregoris said, with controlled satisfaction, “just got managed by an omega with a month-old baby in his arms.”

Damian’s eyes gleamed, unbothered. “Yes.”

Gregoris’ grin sharpened. “And you liked it.”

Damian’s mouth curved, almost honestly. “I respected it.”

—

Gregoris didn’t leave the imperial office immediately.

He made Damian sign two more orders first, purely out of spite. Donin. Dampeners. A reallocation that would make the border corridor quieter by tomorrow. If the Emperor was going to annex anything, he could at least annex responsibility.

Only when the ink was dry did Gregoris take the folder, turn on his heel, and walk out before Damian could say anything else about godfatherhood with that infuriating glint in his eyes.

The corridor outside Gabriel’s office was heavily guarded by shadows.

They stood in the shadows of the archways and along the etherline seams in the walls, pretending they were part of the architecture. Men who could erase a room in seconds, all of them suddenly very interested in the ceiling, the floor, and the exact angle of their own boots.

Because the door to Gabriel’s office opened.

Rafael stepped out first, careful and composed, his hair slightly disordered like he’d been leaning over a desk for too long. He carried Natalie against his chest, wrapped in a soft blanket the color of dusk. The infant was so small she looked unreal.

Gabriel took a step back, expression calm, one hand resting briefly on Rafael’s shoulder, as if steadying rather than posture.

Rafael spotted Gregoris at once.

His face softened with the quiet relief that comes from finally seeing the person you trust the most.

“We’re going,” Rafael said softly.

Gregoris nodded once. “I know.”

Rafael shifted the blanket slightly, instinctively. Natalie made a tiny sound, then settled again.

Gregoris stepped closer.

The Shadows watching did not move. They did not breathe wrong. They absolutely did not stare.

Gregoris held out his arms.

Rafael didn’t hesitate.

He gently placed Natalie into Gregoris’ hands.

Natalie’s small body fit against Gregoris’ forearm, warm through the blanket. Her head nestled near the crook of his elbow like she’d decided that was where she belonged. One fist flexed once, tiny fingers curling.

Gregoris looked down at her.

Natalie blinked up at him, unfocused, then made a faint, questioning sound.

Gregoris lowered his head slightly, just enough for her to feel the shift of his breath.

“It’s me,” he murmured.

Rafael’s mouth curved faintly, like the sound did something to him.

Around them, every shadow in the corridor became intensely fascinated with literally anything else.

The line of a molding. The ether panel. A crack in the stone floor that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday and was now apparently urgent.

Because watching Gregoris Frasner hold an infant was like watching a storm cradle a candle without snuffing it.

It wasn’t forbidden. It just felt like knowledge you weren’t supposed to have.

Gregoris adjusted his grip, more secure, one hand supporting Natalie’s head with a gentleness that didn’t match any part of his reputation. Natalie’s eyes drifted shut again, as if the change of arms had been a decision and she approved of the outcome.

Gabriel watched them for a moment, expression unreadable, then spoke like he was discussing paperwork.

“I’ll have the draft sent to you,” he said to Rafael.

Rafael nodded. “Thank you.”

Gabriel’s gaze flicked to Gregoris. “And you,” he said, tone dry, “try not to stab Damian. At least not until after the signatures.”

Gregoris didn’t look up. “No promises.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched, the closest he came to a smile. “Fair.”

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