Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

By the time Theodore was three months old, the family had collectively decided that Arion had exhausted every medically defensible excuse for keeping his son behind the doors of the Crown Prince’s Palace.

It was November now, the gardens beyond the residence already stripped of most of their leaves and the distant mountains beginning to carry the first thin traces of snow, while inside the palace the heating had been raised enough that Dean could comfortably walk around in a light shirt without worrying about Theodore becoming cold.

Theo had changed considerably since August.

The frighteningly tiny premature infant who had once fitted almost entirely between Arion’s hands had gained weight steadily, his cheeks had filled out, his dark hair had grown thicker, and his periods of wakefulness had become long enough that he now spent substantial portions of the day staring solemnly at whatever happened to be closest to his face.

His eyes still changed.

Sometimes gold.

Sometimes completely black.

The medical team continued recording every occurrence, but after three months without any pathological changes, the sight no longer froze an entire room.

His pheromones had developed too, although the profile remained young and soft enough that Seven refused to speculate about anything beyond the fact that Theodore’s glands were functioning exactly as they should.

Which, unfortunately for Arion, meant Seven had also removed the most useful obstacle between his family and his front door.

Dean discovered the consequences over breakfast.

Arion sat beside him at the smaller table in their private morning room with Theodore resting in the crook of one arm, the baby dressed in a soft dark-green sleeper while one tiny fist remained wrapped around the edge of his father’s shirt. Arion had learned to eat with one hand remarkably quickly, although Dean suspected that was mostly because he refused to put Theodore down whenever the child had fallen asleep against him.

Dean’s tablet vibrated beside his plate.

Then vibrated again.

And again.

He glanced toward the family group chat and smiled.

Arion noticed immediately.

”No.”

Dean looked up.

”I haven’t said anything.”

”You are smiling at the family chat.”

”That is not automatically threatening.”

”It is when my siblings are involved.”

Dean turned the tablet so Arion could see.

The messages were arriving fast enough that the screen kept shifting.

Ariana wanted to know whether Saturday afternoon was available.

Tyana had announced that she had already purchased Theodore’s gift and would not be returning it merely because Arion had decided that an infant needed fewer possessions.

Caroline wanted new photographs because the ones Dean had sent two days earlier were apparently already outdated.

Castor had simply written:

I’m coming tomorrow.

Rina responded almost immediately.

Try it. He’ll have security return you to the gate.

Dean laughed.

Arion looked increasingly unimpressed.

Levi, Lennox, and Lucia were attempting to coordinate their own schedules, apparently under the assumption that permission would eventually become a technicality rather than a requirement, while the youngest two had taken a much more direct approach.

Oscar: We finish school at three on Friday.

A second message followed.

Diego: We can be there by four.

Arion stared at the screen.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

”They have planned the route already.”

”They have not been invited.”

Another message appeared.

Oscar: Father said we could ask.

Arion slowly lifted his head.

Dean followed his gaze toward the adjoining sitting area.

Otto had arrived twenty minutes earlier with Minerva, ostensibly for breakfast and not because both of them had discovered that Theodore was usually awake around this hour.

Minerva had reluctantly left almost immediately afterward when her secretary reminded her for the third time that she had a ministerial meeting she could no longer postpone, although she had managed to kiss Theodore twice, remind Dean to send a photograph if he did anything interesting, and tell Arion that she would return before dinner.

Otto had remained.

He was sitting near the windows with coffee in one hand, pretending not to listen.

Arion looked toward him.

”You encouraged Oscar and Diego.”

Otto raised his eyebrows.

”I told them to ask you.”

”You knew what that would cause.”

”I raised ten children, Arion. I know exactly what it causes.”

Dean laughed.

Theodore stirred against Arion’s chest, making a small disgruntled sound before opening gold eyes and blinking up at his father.

Every adult in the room immediately forgot the argument.

Arion lowered his gaze.

”Good morning.”

Theo stared at him.

Then yawned.

Dean smiled.

”He has your enthusiasm for mornings.”

”I like mornings.”

”You like mornings after coffee.”

Otto rose from his chair and approached them, abandoning his cup on the side table as Theodore’s attention shifted vaguely toward the movement.

”He’s awake.”

Arion looked at his father.

”I noticed.”

Otto stopped beside him and held out his hands without saying anything.

Arion narrowed his eyes.

Dean watched them.

There were apparently certain things even emperors knew better than to demand directly.

After several seconds, Arion adjusted Theodore carefully, sliding one hand beneath his head and the other under his back before lifting him from his chest.

Otto’s expression changed immediately.

Arion transferred the baby into his arms with the practiced caution they had all developed during the first months, waiting until Theodore was settled securely against his grandfather before releasing him completely.

”There,” Dean said. ”Now you can interrogate your father properly.”

Theo looked up at Otto.

His eyes had turned black somewhere during the transfer.

Otto did not react beyond adjusting the blanket near his grandson’s shoulder.

”You see?” he told Theodore quietly. ”Your father is unreasonable.”

Arion stared at him.

Dean started laughing.

Theo’s tiny fingers caught the edge of Otto’s shirt, and the emperor’s entire expression softened as he shifted the baby higher against his chest.

For all the complications surrounding Otto’s family, there had never been much distinction inside it.

Rosa’s death from pheromonal disease had come years before Dean entered their lives, leaving Otto with children at very different ages and grief that had settled differently through each of them. Minerva had later married him without attempting to erase what had existed before her, and somehow, over the years, she had become simply their mother too, treating Otto’s older children with the same exasperation, affection, and interference she gave the children born to her.

Arion never referred to them as half-siblings.

Neither did anyone else.

Which meant Theodore had an unreasonable number of aunts and uncles now demanding access to him.

Dean picked up his tablet again.

”Lucia is asking why Rina was allowed to meet him first.”

Otto smiled down at Theodore.

”Fair question.”

”Because Rina was already here,” Arion said.

Dean read the next message.

”Rina says it is because she’s the favorite.”

Three replies immediately appeared disagreeing.

Otto laughed, careful to keep the sound quiet enough not to startle the baby.

Arion rubbed one hand over his face.

”I could close the palace.”

Dean looked toward him.

”To your family?”

”Yes.”

”Until when?”

Arion considered it.

”Until Theo is old enough to decide whether he wants visitors.”

Otto glanced up.

”You mean eighteen?”

”That sounds reasonable.”

Dean laughed.

”You have seven siblings besides Rina who have been waiting three months to see him, and two of them are still young enough to send photographic evidence from school when they believe they are being oppressed. You are not keeping these gates closed for eighteen years.”

”I have security.”

”You also have siblings who grew up inside imperial security.”

Otto’s smile widened.

”That is the more relevant problem.”

The tablet vibrated again.

This time Oscar and Diego had sent a photograph from their classroom, both wearing school uniforms and staring gravely into the camera.

The caption read:

Three months without seeing our nephew.

Dean turned the screen toward Otto.

The emperor laughed so hard he had to deliberately lower his voice halfway through to avoid disturbing Theo.

Arion stared at the photograph.

”This is emotional manipulation.”

”They learned from the best,” Otto said.

”From you?”

”Your mother.”

Minerva was not present to defend herself.

Dean considered sending her the conversation anyway.

Theo shifted in Otto’s arms, turning his face toward the emperor’s chest before settling again, apparently completely uninterested in the diplomatic crisis surrounding his visiting schedule.

Dean looked at Arion.

”So. Saturday?”

”One sibling.”

”Two.”

”One at a time.”

”That will take weeks.”

”Excellent.”

Dean leaned back in his chair.

”Three, spread across the afternoon.”

”Dean.”

Otto adjusted Theodore’s blanket while watching his son with visible amusement.

”You might as well surrender. They will keep asking until you do.”

Arion looked at his father, then at Dean, and finally at Theodore, who had gone back to sleep with one tiny hand curled against Otto’s chest.

For a moment, Arion genuinely appeared to calculate whether sealing the Crown Prince’s Palace could be classified as a reasonable neonatal precaution.

Then he sighed.

”Two at a time.”

Dean immediately began typing before he could reconsider.

The family chat exploded within seconds.

Rina claimed first rights despite having already visited repeatedly.

Castor announced that he was counting himself as half a person if necessary.

Caroline demanded a proper schedule.

Oscar asked whether children counted differently.

Diego wanted to know whether being Theodore’s youngest uncle provided priority.

Arion watched the messages accumulate with growing disbelief.

Dean laughed.

Across from them, Otto settled more comfortably into the armchair with his grandson sleeping against him, looking entirely too satisfied with the chaos.

Three months earlier, Theodore had been behind an incubator wall while everyone waited for him to grow strong enough to come home.

Now half the imperial family was fighting over who got to hold him first.

Dean thought he preferred this problem.