Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 367 - 361: Five children and stupid nobles

Gabriel sighed, the kind of exhausted exhale that carried the weight of both future heirs and three intersecting romantic disasters. "She’s learning near me. Not from me."

Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. "Still counts."

Across the ballroom, the glittering group of nobles-in-training and chaos enthusiasts had clearly noticed their approach. Christian stood with his hands folded like a court jester awaiting judgment, Max remained lounging with theatrical ease, Alexandra looked vaguely entertained, and Rafael had gone still in that exact way prey animals do when they sense a predator approaching. Irina stood in the middle of it all, fan clutched in both hands, expression bright but genuine.

"You’re getting a son first," Gabriel said flatly.

Damian didn’t respond, but that smug stillness, that infuriating quiet, was answer enough.

Gabriel looked at him, one brow lifting.

"Dominant alpha. Yours, obviously. Already kicking like he’s offended by furniture placement. If I have to listen to one more physician tell me he’s growing ’exceptionally strong’ like it’s not a threat, I’m going to start charging the palace for hazard pay."

Damian’s eyes gleamed, lazy gold. "He’ll be exceptional."

"He’ll be dangerous. I already caught him reacting to my temper twice. He’s territorial. I was just trying to sleep."

"He takes after you."

Gabriel turned his head slowly. "He bites. In the womb."

Damian nodded, deadpan. "So do you."

"I bite with reason. This one hasn’t even been born and he’s already trying to assert dominance over my bladder."

Damian hummed like it was a compliment.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, arms crossing. "You’re disturbingly pleased with yourself."

"I am."

"And you’re already thinking about the next one."

"I am."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "You do realize I’m the one doing the actual work here."

"You volunteered."

"I was seduced and tricked."

"You climbed into my bed."

Gabriel snorted. "Because you baited me. With pheromones, shameless flattery, and blackmail. "

"Which worked."

Gabriel gave him a look. "I should’ve stayed in engineering."

"You’re building a legacy instead."

Gabriel exhaled through his nose and glanced toward the ballroom, where someone just dropped a glass and apologized three times to the carpet.

"I swear," he muttered, "if our son comes out with your smug face and your god complex, I’m running."

"Where?"

Gabriel turned back to him. "Anywhere that isn’t within reach of you or your military nursery planning."

Damian didn’t slow his pace. "I’ll find you."

Gabriel lifted a brow. "I know. That’s the problem."

And Damian, still infuriatingly calm, reached over again, like nothing in the world could ever truly be out of his grasp, and rested his hand against Gabriel’s back. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"He’ll be ours," he said. "But you’ll be the first thing he learns to protect."

Gabriel raised a brow. "Because you’ll train him that way?"

No," Damian said. "Because he’ll watch me."

Gabriel’s brow arched. "So... training."

Damian didn’t blink. "Observation. Discipline. Instinct."

"So training."

Damian shrugged, maddeningly calm. "Call it what you want. The result is the same."

Gabriel tilted his head, unimpressed. "You’re raising a miniature warlord."

"We’re raising a future heir."

"With a bite reflex."

"Effective deterrent," Damian said mildly. "Nobles respect pain."

Gabriel stared. "He’s not even born."

"He’s early."

"Oh, you’re proud of that."

Damian met his eyes, completely unrepentant. "Well, the Empire is large enough for more imperial offspring."

Gabriel blinked. "More?"

"I told you. Five."

"You’re not getting five."

"I said ten if they look like you."

"I will run."

"They’ll need help, Gabriel," Damian said, as if the numbers were now part of state planning. "Taming the court. Managing power blocs. Handling nobles with too much land and too little loyalty."

"You want to raise an imperial army out of our nursery."

"I want reinforcements."

Gabriel let out a breath, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or throw his glass at his husband’s head.

"Should I start assigning them territories now?" he asked.

Damian was already halfway through the mental map. "The western coast will need someone decisive."

"Oh gods."

"The southern provinces—"

"Stop."

Damian closed the distance between them, not a flicker of guilt in his posture. "You started it."

"I agreed to one."

"You agreed to forever."

Gabriel gave him a long, flat stare. "We are just engaged, not married."

Damian didn’t blink. "A technicality."

"A legal distinction."

"A temporary one."

Gabriel set his glass down with the kind of controlled grace that suggested it had narrowly avoided becoming a weapon. "You do realize I still have time to back out."

"You don’t."

Gabriel’s brows lifted. "Are you threatening me with a royal decree?"

"No," Damian said, perfectly composed. "I’m stating the obvious. You’re marked. You sleep in my bed. You wear my scent like it belongs there. If I’m not already your husband, I’m the worst-kept secret in the Empire."

"You’re the worst-kept scandal in the Empire," Gabriel muttered.

"There are worse," Damian began, only to pause as a flash of movement caught his eye.

A noble, draped in outdated brocade and self-importance, with the kind of swagger that suggested wine had replaced blood, was already stepping into their path.

Gabriel didn’t sigh, but he wanted to. The man reeked of citrus and delusion.

Damian didn’t move. The imperial guards did.

They snapped forward like twin blades drawn from the same scabbard, positioning themselves between the Emperor and the stumbling interruption with silent, vicious precision. No swords were drawn. The temperature shifted anyway.

"Your Majesty, Consort, such a delight, such an honor—" the man sputtered, trying to recover the bow he should’ve led with.

Damian’s eyes never flicked toward the noble. He didn’t have to. The guards had already shifted just enough to make the man sweat without touching him, the silent promise of force threaded through posture alone.

"Apologies, truly—" the noble began again, one hand fluttering toward his chest like that would conjure dignity from the depths of his poor life choices. "I simply wanted to extend my blessings for the child, what an honor to witness the continuation of imperial blood, what—what an exquisite achievement."

Gabriel tilted his head. His smile was light. Civilized. Devastating.

"That’s kind," he said coolly. "Though I wasn’t aware we were being evaluated like breeding stallions."

The noble chuckled. Wrong move.

This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶