Chapter 600: The Announcement

Dean had wanted dinner.

Family, cake, no speeches, and enough food he could actually tolerate without spending half the evening fighting nausea.

What he got was technically still a birthday party.

The distinction became questionable somewhere around the fourth security checkpoint.

By early evening, the main palace’s western reception wing had filled with family, senior household staff, several council representatives, and enough discreetly positioned press to make Dean reconsider every decision that had led him here. Minerva had kept her promise not to turn the occasion into an accession ceremony, but apparently that still allowed pale-gold banners, winter greenery, hundreds of candles, a string ensemble near the garden doors, and an entire wall of flowers arranged around the family crest.

At least none of them smelled strongly.

Dean had specifically threatened the florists.

He stood near the entrance in a soft violet formal coat embroidered lightly in silver along the cuffs and collar, the tailoring loose enough through the waist that nobody had attempted to emphasize a pregnancy still too early to show properly.

Arion remained beside him in warm brown and cream, his dark-gold eyes following Dean every few minutes despite repeated assurances that nausea did not require constant visual confirmation.

Dean caught him doing it again.

"I am still alive."

Arion’s hand settled against his lower back.

"I can see that."

"Excellent. Stop checking."

Arion smiled and made absolutely no promise.

Lucas and Trevor arrived first among the family coming from outside Alamina.

Lucas crossed the hall in a deep green suit and ignored the receiving line entirely, pulling Dean into a careful hug before stepping back to examine him from head to toe.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Do not start."

"I was looking at your clothes."

"You were looking at my face for signs of nausea."

Lucas smiled.

Trevor rescued Dean by placing a hand on his shoulder and kissing his temple.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you. You are currently my favorite parent."

"That will last five minutes."

Sebastian and Nero arrived shortly afterward, drawing enough attention from the waiting press that Dean briefly enjoyed no longer being the most interesting person near the entrance.

Marriage had not improved Nero’s ability to behave inconspicuously.

His long white-blond hair was partly tied back with narrow silver pieces, and his deep-purple coat carried enough embroidery to announce his presence before he spoke. Sebastian beside him wore dark green with a black shirt beneath it, his shoulder-length hair loose and his expression already suggesting he regretted every camera in the building.

Dean smiled.

"You came voluntarily."

Sebastian hugged him.

"For you."

Nero leaned over Dean’s shoulder.

"And because Dax said if we declined another family event this month, he would schedule one himself."

"That sounds like him."

Nero stepped back and looked at Dean’s stomach.

Dean pointed at him.

"Do not."

"I was going to congratulate my niece again."

"You can congratulate her after she develops ears capable of appreciating it."

Nero considered this reasonable enough.

Across the hall, Theo had already found Otto.

That had happened almost immediately.

The five-year-old sat on his grandfather’s arm wearing a small navy formal coat with gold embroidery, his wooden dragon tucked against Otto’s chest between them while he explained something with the solemn intensity normally reserved for state negotiations.

Minerva stood nearby with Rina and several of Arion’s siblings, watching Theo with the expression of a woman who had long since surrendered any expectation that family events would remain dignified.

Dean looked around.

Most of them were here.

Rina with her husband.

Castor.

Ariana.

Tyana.

Caroline.

Levi and Lennox arguing quietly near the dessert table.

Lucia already attempting to convince Theo that his dragon needed jewelry.

Oscar and Diego arrived late enough that Minerva gave them a look but early enough to avoid punishment.

It was crowded.

Loud.

Exactly the kind of family chaos Dean had once assumed royal households carefully avoided.

Apparently not theirs.

Dinner was held in the adjoining hall, where the tables had been arranged in a broad open square instead of the usual formal rows. Dean’s place had been strategically positioned away from the roasted meats after recent incidents, and somebody—almost certainly Arion—had ensured there were several bland options nearby that his stomach currently considered acceptable.

Dean noticed.

He said nothing.

Mostly because he appreciated it.

The cake survived.

That was more than Dean expected.

Theo helped blow out the candles despite being informed repeatedly that it was not his birthday, Nero stole frosting from Sebastian’s plate, and Rina managed to begin an argument with Castor over whether Dean had actually turned older if nobody acknowledged it publicly.

For nearly two hours, it felt almost normal.

That ended when Minerva stood.

The room quieted gradually.

Dean leaned back in his chair.

Otto remained seated for another moment before rising beside her. He wore a dark navy suit and the imperial insignia pinned to his chest.

Minerva wore silver-grey with a narrow gold sash, elegant enough for the cameras without looking dressed for a state proclamation.

Dean glanced toward Arion.

His husband’s posture had changed.

Under the table, Dean found his hand.

Arion’s fingers closed around his immediately.

Otto looked around the room before speaking.

"For several months, Minerva and I have been preparing a transition that until now has remained within the family and the offices required to support it."

The press at the far end of the hall became perfectly still.

Dean could almost hear the headlines being written.

Otto continued without ceremony.

"I am sixty-seven years old. I am healthy, capable, and fortunate enough to be making this decision by choice rather than necessity."

Minerva looked at him, and the affection in her face softened the entire statement.

"I intend to retire."

There was a brief, strange silence as everyone absorbed what those words meant beyond the family table.

Otto turned slightly toward Arion.

"The transition will take place gradually over approximately the next year. Authority has already begun transferring in several areas, and when that process is complete, Crown Prince Arion will succeed me as Emperor of Alamina."

Every camera turned.

Arion did not move.

Dean felt his grip tighten once.

Minerva continued.

"My own responsibilities will transfer alongside his, with Dean assuming the duties of Imperial Consort when the accession is completed."

Now the cameras turned toward Dean.

Dean smiled because he had been warned.

Because Minerva had threatened him with consequences if he looked openly irritated.

Because apparently being pregnant, nauseous, and announced as a future imperial consort on his birthday still required good posture.

Theo’s voice broke the silence.

"Dada will be emperor."

A few people laughed softly.

Otto looked toward him.

Theo considered the matter from his seat beside Trevor.

"And Papa too?"

Dean opened his mouth.

Arion answered first.

"Papa will be consort."

Theo frowned.

"That sounds less important."

The room dissolved.

Laughter spread across the family tables first, reaching even Otto before the press caught up.

Dean covered his face.

Arion leaned closer.

"Your son."

Dean lowered his hand.

"He became yours when he insulted imperial hierarchy."

Theo, satisfied with his contribution, returned to his dessert.

The tension never fully returned after that.

Questions would come tomorrow.

Tonight, Otto sat down again, Minerva reclaimed her wine, Sebastian leaned across the table to congratulate Arion quietly, and Nero immediately began making comments about future emperor scheduling that earned him a glare.

Dean looked around the table.

At his parents.

His brother.

Arion’s enormous family.

Theo licking frosting from one finger while his dragon occupied the chair beside him.

Arion’s hand still wrapped around him beneath the table.

And the daughter growing quietly inside him.

Dean had asked for dinner.

He supposed this still counted.