Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 308: Catastrophic

This had somehow become a crisis.

Not the kind involving policy meetings or geopolitical tension. A far more personal, far more exhausting crisis involving dignity, tradition, and one extremely determined king.

Christopher was moving through the palace with one purpose, walking like a man who had decided momentum was his only weapon left. He carried the garment bag over one arm with the same care one would reserve for irreplaceable relics or unstable explosives. Behind him, Dax followed with unwavering patience, matching his pace without any sign of giving up. And behind Dax, padding silently and confidently, came the white tiger, who had apparently decided that wherever Chris went, it must also be there.

"Chris," Dax called after him, still calm, still polite, which somehow made the whole thing more unsettling. "Let me see it."

"No," Christopher replied, without slowing, without turning, as if the refusal were built into the structure of the universe.

"It’s the royal wedding robe," Dax reminded him gently, as if this were an argument in his favor rather than against it.

"I am fully aware," Christopher said, his voice maddeningly composed.

They continued down the corridor like that: Christopher leading, Dax in unwavering pursuit, and the tiger trailing with the serene confidence of a house cat who believed it was helping.

"I’m the groom," Dax tried again.

"You are," Christopher agreed, "and you already have your attire. Be satisfied with that."

Dax lengthened his stride, as did the tiger, and a few members of staff flattened themselves against the walls with silent reverence. There was a special kind of hush that followed this trio wherever they walked, equal parts awe, fascination, and an acute awareness that it was safest simply not to interfere.

"I want to see yours," Dax continued, completely undeterred. "Before the ceremony. Preferably while you’re wearing it."

Christopher inhaled through his teeth, the breath a man took when deciding whether patience was still a virtue.

"Absolutely not," he answered.

Dax could have ordered anyone to unlock the wardrobe. He could have quietly given an instruction, and the palace would have obeyed. But he didn’t. He stayed there, walking just behind Christopher, because for some reason it mattered to him that Chris be the one to show him. It mattered that he be invited into the moment.

Christopher, unfortunately, understood that.

He just refused to reward it.

"I could ask Killian," Dax said thoughtfully.

"Yes," Christopher replied, still not looking back. "You could."

There was a contemplative pause. It lasted long enough for Christopher to feel it.

He finally turned, lifting an eyebrow with surgical precision. "Don’t even think about it."

Dax, who had in fact been thinking about it, accepted defeat on that front without complaint, but certainly not without regrouping.

They turned a corner.

Three foreign diplomats bowed with the solemn dignity of men acknowledging a head of state... and then promptly plastered themselves to the marble as soon as they registered the tiger. One of them made the faintest choked sound; the tiger, deeply satisfied with its intimidation ratio, flicked its tail and continued like it had a schedule to keep.

"I want to see yours," Dax repeated, relentless in a calm, almost reasonable tone that made this worse. "Before the ceremony. While you’re wearing it would be ideal."

"No," Christopher said again, crisp, decisive, and unyielding. "We’re not negotiating a hostage exchange, we’re respecting ritual."

"It’s also my wedding," Dax pointed out, unbothered and thoughtful, as though presenting a footnote to a contract rather than trying to ruin civilization.

Christopher did not slow. "Yes. And you will enjoy every part of it when appropriate."

They passed two guards who saluted and then wisely focused their eyes forward, because if there was one survival rule in Saha, it was do not visually acknowledge whatever emotional situation the royal couple is in.

Dax drew a little closer, lowering his voice just slightly.

"Is there a particular reason you don’t want me to see it?"

"Yes," Christopher answered immediately.

Dax waited.

Christopher did not elaborate.

There was silence-long enough for Dax to realize this wasn’t stubbornness for tradition’s sake. This was... tactical.

Something in his expression sharpened, definitely more interested now. "Is it... bad?"

"No."

"Scandalous?"

"No."

"Unfinished?"

"No."

The tiger emitted a soft, curious huff, like it was following the conversation and would very much like to be included.

Dax considered, brief and focused, like a general analyzing battlefield variables.

"...Is it because you look too good in it?"

Christopher’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second.

Tiny. Almost invisible. But Dax noticed.

Sahir, halfway down an intersecting hall, watched this microsecond of hesitation and immediately turned his back to the corridor like a man who had seen something dangerous and pretended the universe did not exist.

Christopher recovered with dignity. "No."

"Christopher," Dax said slowly, voice warming with dawning delight, "what kind of robe did you choose?"

"A sensible one," Christopher replied.

Dax’s brows lifted.

"A modest one."

Dax looked deeply unconvinced.

"With cultural meaning."

Dax nodded, polite.

"And all of Saha’s royal dignity."

The tiger blinked adoringly.

"...and a neckline," Dax said suddenly.

Christopher did not answer.

He kept walking.

That was the problem. Silence. Absolute, condemning silence.

Dax’s purple eyes widened slightly, delighted, the way a very composed man is delighted when the universe gifts him joyful chaos.

"You chose another one with a deep collar," he said, voice almost tender with admiration.

Christopher clenched his jaw. "It is called ceremonial confidence, and it is culturally valid."

"Yes," Dax agreed peacefully. "Very culturally valid. Very ceremonial. Very..." His tone dipped, lazy and far too calm, "...distracting."

Christopher refused to look at him. "It is structurally breathable. Perfectly tailored for the public ceremony. Practical even."

"Mm," Dax hummed, and somehow the sound was worse than anything else he had said so far. "Practical."

They walked past a pair of officials who instantly pivoted into another hallway like NPCs sensing boss-level tension.

Dax took another step closer, casually invading personal space with the quiet confidence of a man who paid for the palace.

"You remember what happens every time you wear a robe like that," he said conversationally.

"No," Christopher said.

"Yes," Dax replied gently.

"No, I do not," Christopher repeated, now absolutely lying.

"Chris," Dax said softly, very nearly affectionately, "last time, the council rescheduled three briefings because we did not leave the room."

The tiger perked up like this was the best gossip it had ever heard. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Christopher went rigid. "That is an exaggeration."

"It is generous," Dax replied calmly.

"And the balcony incident..."

"Do not finish that sentence."

"-with the reporters..."

"Dax."

"And the desk..."

"Stop talking."

Dax smiled to himself, satisfied. "So yes. I understand now."

"This," Christopher continued stiffly, "is why you cannot see the robe before the ceremony."

"Because I might get... distracted," Dax said, with grave seriousness.

"Yes," Christopher snapped. "You will become feral. You will stop functioning. The state will suffer. The country deserves stability. Therefore, you do not see the robe."

The tiger bumped Christopher’s leg in supportive agreement.

Dax considered this.

Then nodded like a responsible monarch acknowledging a valid parliamentary argument.

"That is fair."

Christopher blinked. He had not expected that.

He turned slightly, wary. "...really?"

"Yes," Dax said, completely sincere. "You are correct. I would lose focus. I would behave irresponsibly. Things would happen to surfaces. And furniture."

Christopher made a small choking noise.

"So," Dax concluded, utterly at peace, "for the safety of Saha, I should not see it before the ceremony."

Christopher exhaled in relief.

"Thank you-"

"But I still want to see it," Dax finished pleasantly.

Christopher stopped walking.

Very slowly.

The tiger stopped too.

Dax stepped right up behind him, entirely calm.

"And I am," he said softly, calmly, and infuriatingly composed, "a very patient man."

And that, just like that, reset the crisis timer to catastrophic.