Chapter 577: Draxilian Coronation.

Theo woke with the wooden dragon tucked beneath his chin.

Dean discovered this when he pushed open the connecting door shortly after seven and found his son sitting in the middle of the bed, hair flattened on one side and sleep still heavy around his eyes, carefully inspecting the carved wings as though the toy might have changed overnight.

The black dragon had apparently survived the night without incident.

More importantly, so had Theo.

"Good morning."

Theo looked up, golden eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Morning."

Dean crossed the room and sat on the edge of the mattress.

The dragon immediately disappeared into Theo’s arms.

Dean glanced at it.

"You know that belongs to Draxil."

Theo tightened his hold.

"It likes me."

"It is made of wood."

Theo considered that irrelevant.

Dean smiled and brushed the child’s hair back from his forehead.

"We’ll ask Amelie whether you can keep it."

Theo nodded with complete confidence, clearly assuming the matter had already been settled.

Arion appeared several minutes later wearing dark trousers and an unbuttoned formal shirt, his cuffs still undone and his hair damp from the shower. He took one look at Theo carrying the dragon into the dressing room and sighed.

Dean pointed at him.

"You predicted this."

"So did you."

"Which means neither of us can complain."

"I can still complain."

Theo climbed onto the padded bench while one of the attendants brought his clothes.

His ceremonial outfit was considerably simpler than anything Dean and Arion would wear later: black trousers, a white shirt, a dark-blue jacket embroidered only at the cuffs, and soft formal shoes that would survive several hours without making him miserable.

The dragon remained on his lap throughout the entire process.

Even when the attendant needed him to lift his arms.

Arion eventually took it, holding the wooden creature under one arm while Theo changed.

Dean had to look away.

The Crown Prince of Alamina, already half dressed for an international coronation, was carrying a child’s black dragon with the resignation of a man who understood that dignity had limits.

Their own preparations took considerably longer.

Draxilian ceremony apparently considered restraint a personal insult.

Dean’s formal coat was deep violet with silver embroidery worked through the collar, shoulders, and narrow cuffs, while Arion wore black with dark-gold detailing that caught beneath the light whenever he moved. By the time the final insignia were pinned into place, Dean had already decided the clothing was beautiful and unnecessarily heavy.

At least neither of them had been dressed in silk from throat to ankle.

Draxil had apparently saved that privilege for the people being crowned.

The morning schedule began with a private breakfast, followed by the formal procession toward the old ceremonial palace in the center of the capital.

Theo joined them for breakfast and the arrival procession.

That was enough.

Neither Dean nor Arion had any intention of making a four-year-old sit through every diplomatic greeting, blessing, ceremonial reading, historical declaration, and reception simply because protocol technically permitted it.

Matthias took over after the procession, accompanied by one of Theo’s nannies and a security officer.

Theo accepted this easily once he learned there was a private viewing room overlooking the ceremonial hall and the dragon would go with him.

Dean watched him disappear down the side corridor before turning toward Arion.

"He’ll probably sleep with it for six months."

"I am aware of who our son is."

Dean smiled.

"You sound defeated."

"I survived the forest. I can survive a wooden dragon."

The ceremonial hall was already filling when they entered.

Draxil had transformed the old throne chamber almost beyond recognition.

Silk hung from the ceiling in enormous layered panels, deep blue and silver falling between carved stone columns and pooling behind the raised coronation platform. Thousands of winter flowers had been brought in despite the season, pale orchids and blue roses arranged around the stairs, along the balconies, and beneath the royal banners.

Dean had no idea what the flowers cost.

He was reasonably certain he did not want to know.

The jewels were worse.

Amaru entered beneath a ceremonial mantle so heavily embroidered with silver thread and stones that Dean briefly wondered whether the man could still move his shoulders normally.

Amelie followed several steps behind him in a pale-blue gown with a long train, her hair pinned beneath an elaborate silver crown frame that would later support the formal coronation piece.

Dean leaned slightly toward Arion.

"Draxil has no concept of subtlety."

Arion’s gaze moved across the silk, flowers, jewels, and enormous silver ceremonial canopy.

"I think subtlety was outlawed."

Dean nearly laughed.

The ceremony itself was long, expensive, and completely uneventful.

Exactly as everyone wanted.

Amaru completed the old Draxilian vows before representatives of the royal court, military command, regional houses, and foreign delegations. He accepted the ceremonial blade, the royal seal, and finally the crown.

It was larger than Dean expected.

Silver, sapphires, diamonds, and dark stones formed into high angular points that made Amaru look considerably more dangerous than he had while arguing with Nero about pastry chefs the previous afternoon.

Amelie’s coronation followed.

Her crown was smaller but no less elaborate, set with pale diamonds and blue stones that matched the embroidery of her gown. Amaru personally helped settle it into place after the formal blessing, and for one brief moment the surrounding pageantry disappeared beneath the way they looked at each other.

Dean smiled at the two people beneath all of it who had chosen this.

Chosen each other.

When the bells began outside, the entire hall rose.

Amaru and Amelie turned toward the assembled court together.

King and Queen of Draxil.

Dean applauded with everyone else.

Nothing exploded.

Nobody attempted murder.

No beasts appeared.

No secret political catastrophe unfolded behind a curtain.

It was possibly the most successful royal ceremony Dean had attended in years.

Later, when they finally escaped the main hall and found Theo again, the child ran toward them carrying his dragon beneath one arm.

"Papa!"

Dean crouched and caught him.

"How was it?"

Theo looked toward the distant ceremonial doors.

"Long."

Arion laughed.

Dean kissed his temple.

"That is exactly what coronations are."

Theo lifted the dragon.

"He watched too."

Dean looked at Arion.

Arion looked at the toy.

Neither bothered arguing.

They had survived the coronation.

The dragon could stay.