Chapter 522: Home

By the time Theodore was cleared to leave the medical wing, Dean had begun to suspect that the neonatal team was keeping them there because everyone had become emotionally attached to his son.

He had said as much to Seven.

Seven had informed him that medical discharge was not decided by popularity.

Dean remained unconvinced.

Still, several weeks after Theodore’s unexpectedly early arrival, the monitors had finally given the physicians nothing interesting enough to justify keeping him. His breathing was completely independent, he maintained his temperature without assistance, his weight had climbed steadily, and the developing pheromone profile everyone had watched with almost unreasonable attention remained stable.

His eyes continued to alternate.

Most of the time, when Theodore woke calmly beneath Dean or Arion’s pheromones, they were gold.

Occasionally, particularly immediately after waking or when startled, they appeared completely black for several seconds before changing again.

Victor had documented every occurrence.

Dean had stopped reacting to them.

Theo was healthy.

That mattered considerably more than whether his eyes occasionally resembled a corrupted forest animal.

The return home happened without ceremony.

Dean refused one.

The western residence had already been transformed enough by the security team, medical staff, nursery specialists, and Arion’s increasingly unreasonable interpretation of preparation, and Dean had no intention of entering his own palace through an honor guard because he had successfully brought his baby home.

Consequently, they arrived through the private entrance shortly after noon with two vehicles, one physician, three security officers, enough neonatal equipment to open a small clinic, and Theodore asleep against Dean’s chest.

Very discreet.

Dean stepped carefully from the vehicle, one hand supporting the baby while Arion hovered close enough to catch both of them despite Dean being perfectly capable of walking.

He looked toward his husband.

"I have recovered."

"I know."

"You are standing six centimeters away."

"I am walking beside you."

"You are preparing to catch me."

Arion’s mouth curved.

Dean sighed and continued toward the entrance.

Recovery had been faster than he expected, although not miraculous. His incision had healed well, most of the deep abdominal soreness had faded, and his dominant physiology had apparently granted him enough of an advantage that the medical board had been annoyingly pleased with his progress. His body still reminded him that pregnancy and major surgery could not simply be erased through biological superiority, particularly whenever he became tired, but he no longer moved like every muscle below his ribs had been personally offended.

That was sufficient.

Inside, the residence felt familiar immediately.

Cool stone beneath his shoes.

The faint scent of polished wood and flowers from the open courtyard.

Boreas waiting beyond the entrance hall with his tail moving hard enough to strike one of the decorative tables.

Ducky sat beside him.

Dean stopped.

"No."

Ducky lifted one paw.

Dean looked down at Theodore.

"You are absolutely not touching him with that thing."

The little black dog lowered his paw.

Arion laughed quietly behind him.

Boreas approached more carefully.

Dean allowed him to sniff the blanket before lowering Theodore slightly, keeping enough distance that the enormous dog could smell without reaching the baby’s face.

Boreas inhaled.

His tail slowed.

Then his entire expression changed into something Dean would have described as solemn if it had belonged to a person.

He sat beside Dean.

Ducky copied him immediately.

Dean smiled.

"Well. Apparently we have security."

"We already had security," Arion said.

"Yes, but these two are less irritating than Hendrik."

A voice from farther inside answered, "I heard that."

Dean looked up.

Hendrik stood near the corridor in a dark field uniform, tablet under one arm.

Dean frowned.

"Why are you in my house?"

"Because the crown prince ordered a security review before the baby returned."

Dean slowly turned toward Arion.

Arion showed no remorse whatsoever.

"Of course you did."

—

Their suite had been changed less dramatically than Dean expected.

The nursery connected directly to the bedroom through what had once been a smaller private sitting room, and most of the original furniture remained, although one side now held a beautifully crafted cot surrounded by discreet medical monitoring equipment that Dean had reluctantly accepted after the neonatal team promised it would not beep every time Theodore sneezed.

The color scheme was quiet.

Cream, dark wood, muted green, and touches of gold.

No aggressively royal decorations.

No giant imperial crest above the cot.

Dean had threatened violence over that possibility months earlier.

Theo slept through the entire tour.

Arion carried him now, one enormous hand spread beneath his son’s back while the other supported his head, and the contrast remained ridiculous enough that Dean still occasionally stopped simply to look.

Their son was larger than he had been at birth.

He was still tiny in Arion’s arms.

Dean rested against the side of the cot.

"He fits here."

Arion looked around the nursery.

"He does."

That was apparently the only statement either of them could produce without becoming embarrassingly emotional.

Fortunately, the door opened.

Rina entered carrying a gift bag.

Dean pointed at her immediately.

"If that contains a duck, leave."

"It does not."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

Arion held out one hand.

"Give me the bag."

Rina stared at him.

"You have become intolerable."

"I have seven siblings. Only you have been permitted to see my son in person. Consider that evidence of extraordinary trust."

Rina’s expression softened for approximately two seconds.

Then she handed him the bag.

Arion inspected it.

No ducks.

Dean relaxed.

His other siblings had protested the restrictions with varying degrees of dignity, but neither Dean nor Arion had changed their decision. Theodore had only just left neonatal care, his pheromone glands were still developing, and they were keeping his direct exposure to people limited until Seven and the specialists were satisfied with his adjustment at home.

Everyone close received photographs.

A great many photographs.

Dean had initially attempted to curate them.

That became impossible once Arion discovered that taking twelve nearly identical pictures of Theodore sleeping apparently qualified as documentation rather than obsession.

Lucas and Trevor received them.

Sebastian received them.

Otto and Minerva received them despite living close enough to request updates personally.

Sylvia and Thomas received them in Rohan.

Nero received far more than he deserved.

Nero, naturally, had responded by sending a gift large enough that it required separate delivery clearance.

Dean discovered it in the adjoining family room that afternoon.

He stopped in the doorway.

"What the fuck is that?"

Arion came up behind him with Theodore asleep against his shoulder.

In the center of the room stood a handcrafted cradle made from dark Sahan wood, inlaid with silver and deep purple stonework so fine that Dean immediately knew the object cost more than several houses.

Beside it sat a smaller box.

Dean opened that one first.

Inside was a tiny ceremonial bracelet designed for an infant, made of pale silver set with a single purple gemstone.

Dean stared.

"Obscene."

Arion looked at the craftsmanship.

"Very."

"There is a card."

Dean picked it up.

The front carried Nero’s personal seal.

Inside, in elegant handwriting, were four words.

I’m the godfather.

Dean went silent.

Arion read over his shoulder.

Then he closed his eyes.

Rina burst out laughing from behind them.

"He didn’t even ask?"

"He has been asking for months," Dean said.

"That is not the same thing as receiving permission," Arion replied.

Dean turned the card over.

Nothing else.

Dean laughed.

"I almost respect the confidence."

"You should not encourage him."

"Nero does not require encouragement."

That was unfortunately true.

Theodore stirred against Arion’s shoulder, his small face scrunching before he released a soft breath and settled again.

Every adult in the room immediately lowered their voices.

Dean looked at him.

Home.

Their child was finally home.

There would be appointments, monitoring, Victor’s endless questions, and probably several fights over who was allowed through the palace doors during the next month.

There would also be late nights, bottles, exhaustion, dogs wandering through rooms they were technically banned from entering, and Arion taking far too many photographs of a sleeping baby.

Dean smiled.

He could live with that.