Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 309: Two wonders

Christopher fled.

He simply removed himself from the palace before the situation escalated into the sort of chaos that historians would one day politely label "unfortunate ceremonial complications." He left strategy meetings, security briefings, and a very determined king behind and retreated straight to the one place in Saha where logic still existed.

Ethan’s hospital room.

The imperial medical center carried that unsettling, expensive quiet of institutions where everything is sterilized, precise, and terrifyingly efficient. Every corridor looked like it had never known dust. Every door whispered instead of opening. Whatever Dax paid these people, it clearly wasn’t enough, because they did the kind of work that made gods nervous.

Christopher knocked once out of habit and walked in.

Ethan was awake, half sprawled and lazily combative in that uniquely Ethan way, his shoulder almost healed, posture looser, and irritation still firmly alive. He was scrolling something on a tablet with the deeply bored expression of a man recovering from a life-threatening injury but emotionally irritated by inconvenience more than trauma.

He didn’t look up.

"If that’s a doctor, I’m recovering, tell them to stop hovering. If it’s a research fellow, yes, I’m aware my biology is doing weird things, I am alive anyway. If it’s Dax... no, absolutely not." He paused. "If it’s you, fine. You can stay. You usually bring sanity."

Christopher sat down.

He didn’t say anything immediately.

Ethan finally looked at him.

Then he frowned.

Because Christopher had that expression again. The one that said something absolutely stupid had happened, and he had handled it gracefully until he physically could not deal with it any longer.

Ethan stared for three seconds. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"Okay," he said at last. "What on earth set you on fire this time?"

Christopher exhaled and rested his head against the back of the chair like a man who had reached his personal limit. "Dax wants to see the wedding robe."

Ethan blinked at him.

Then his eyebrows pulled together slowly.

"Oh. One of those robes."

"Yes."

"With the deep neckline and exposed upper chest."

Christopher just nodded.

Ethan exhaled in resignation. "And if he sees it, civilization collapses."

"Exactly."

"Well," Ethan said, voice flat, "good job retreating before the monarchy turned into a nature documentary." He shifted in bed just enough to really look at Christopher, eyes narrowing with entirely too much intelligence. "And here I thought you liked it when Dax is like this." He waved his good hand lazily. "You know... feral, incapable of coherent statecraft, doing questionable things to structural furniture. That’s why you chose the robe. Don’t lie."

Christopher looked personally offended. "I did not-"

"Yes, you did," Ethan cut in, ruthless and tired and deeply unimpressed. "You chose it on purpose. You absolutely picked the neckline knowing what it does to him. You’ve seen the results. Multiple times. Publicly inconvenient. Morally illegal. Possibly against international building code."

Christopher opened his mouth and then closed it again, jaw working like he was attempting to manufacture a lie and discovering he was fresh out of them.

Ethan watched it happen with deep, unrepentant satisfaction, a slow, predatory smirk stretching across his face. He looked like a cat who had discovered the cream, claimed the cream, and was now charging rent on it.

Christopher tried for dignity.

Failed.

He broke.

Laughter hit him hard enough to drag breath from his lungs, head tipping back against the chair, shoulders shaking. A genuine, helpless, and warm laugh that shattered all of his control. He had to press his fingers briefly to the corner of his eye because, fantastic, actual tears were forming.

"Of course I did," he finally managed, breathless. "Of course I did it intentionally."

Ethan’s expression turned smug in a way that should have required licensing.

"I knew it," he said, satisfied beyond reason.

Christopher wiped his eyes, laughter softening into smaller currents he couldn’t quite tame. "He loses functioning, Ethan. It’s ridiculous. He stops being... stoic. Or composed. Or contained. He just-" he gestured vaguely, helpless, "stares. Like everything else in the world can burn because I exist. And then the possessiveness hits, and the palace structurally suffers."

"Yes," Ethan replied dryly. "I’ve heard the rumors."

Christopher tried to school his expression back into neutrality and failed completely.

"It’s not..." he began, then hesitated, then admitted with a shrug, "...unpleasant."

Ethan snorted. "You like turning Godzilla into a lovesick golden retriever. I respect the power move."

Christopher huffed. "It is not that dramatic."

"You are Saha’s national weakness," Ethan said firmly. "If the military ever collapses, I’m blaming your collarbones."

Christopher laughed again, quieter now, shoulders easing, warmth sitting in his chest like something that belonged there. Ethan watched him with that tired, sharp affection of someone who would never bow to royalty but would always show up for a friend.

"Fine," Ethan said, softer but still biting. "So yes. You picked it intentionally. You’re not a victim. You weaponize beauty. Congratulations. How does it feel to be hazardous material?"

Christopher’s smile turned wicked for half a second.

"Empowering."

"Thought so," Ethan muttered.

"And how is it to be a human wonder?" Chris shot back.

Ethan went still.

For a second, he didn’t react. His mouth opened, then closed, and then he stared at Christopher like he’d just been unexpectedly complimented and personally attacked at the same time.

"A what?" he demanded.

Christopher leaned back, calm now, dangerous in that quiet way he had when he’d stopped laughing but the warmth hadn’t left his eyes. "A human wonder," he repeated simply, like it wasn’t an absurd, enormous thing to say. "You survived something impossible. You’re adapting to a body you didn’t agree to upgrade. Your physiology rewrote itself, and you’re still here, functional, biting, alive, and deeply inconvenient to everyone who thought you’d break. The doctors talk about you like a research paper. I talk about you like-"

He stopped there.

Because they understood the rest without him needing to say it.

Ethan blinked once.

Then twice.

"...I hate you," he muttered, voice rougher than before.

Christopher smiled faintly. "No, you don’t."

"I do," Ethan insisted, glaring at the wall now because eye contact was dangerous. "You’re insufferable and emotionally capable, and you weaponize sincerity the way you weaponize your husband’s love. I’m too hormonal for this. I was prepared to complain, possibly cry, and maybe assault another doctor verbally. I was not prepared for you to turn me into a sentimental monologue."

Christopher tilted his head slightly, amused. "You started the honesty war. I just escalated."

"You escalated to airstrikes," Ethan snapped.

Silence lingered for a second, with the unsaid admission that yes, the words had landed exactly where they were supposed to.

Ethan swallowed once.

Then, inevitably, the irritation returned like armor snapping back into place.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Yes. I’m a biological miracle. A scientific marvel. A medical anomaly with a personality problem. Put me in a museum. I’ll hiss at children."

Christopher’s lips curved. "I’d visit."

"Of course you would," Ethan muttered. "You’d bring tea and an irritating perspective and ruin the exhibit."

Christopher laughed softly.

Ethan shifted again, tugging his blanket up like he was hiding from feelings.

"...thanks," he added quietly, like it cost him physical effort to allow the word to exist in air. "Do not make a big thing of it. I will deny it later."

Christopher nodded, equally soft. "Naturally."