Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 321: Swampy honeymoon

Both fortunately and unfortunately, Ethan’s doctors were in rare and complete agreement: he was not leaving Saha for at least another two months.

"There are too many variables," one of them had explained, careful and clinical. "His body is still adapting. The uterus and the supporting organs aren’t fully developed yet. Long travel, stress, a sudden complication - any of it could turn into internal bleeding we might not be able to control in time."

Ethan had listened in silence, then said dryly, "So, in short, I could bleed to death because an emperor wants to tick a witness off his list."

No one contradicted him.

In the end, he refused to testify at all.

Leon and Maverick, along with the other survivors and the recovered data, were more than enough to dismantle the network. There was no legal necessity, and certainly no moral one, for the public to learn that one of the victims had undergone forced secondary gender alteration. Ethan had no intention of becoming a headline, a medical curiosity, or a case study passed around conferences and courtrooms alike.

"I’m not turning into a miracle specimen for researchers to poke at," he had told Chris. "I already did my part in all of this. I’m not being examined for the greater good of the privileged."

Chris hadn’t argued. He had simply made sure the right doors stayed closed, the right files remained sealed, and the right people were reminded that Ethan’s privacy was not negotiable.

Some people were very unhappy about that. Chris did not lose a single minute of sleep over it.

—

Marianne and Heather eventually returned to Rohan, sweeping out of the palace with dramatic promises to be back for the coronation in three months, as if anyone had suggested they might not be welcome.

"You can’t get rid of us that easily," Heather had declared, pointing at Chris with theatrical menace.

Chris had smiled sweetly. "I wasn’t planning to try."

—

Mia and Andrew went back to Palatine soon after, which was how Chris discovered, entirely by accident, that the Second Prince of Palatine had decided to formalize his attempt at courting Mia by signing an actual dating contract.

Drafted and supervised by Lucas.

Because apparently the two of them were equally impossible, and Lucas had decided that if they were going to be a problem, they could at least be a legally organized one.

Chris had stared at the document in silence, processing.

"She didn’t tell me," he said at last.

Dax, reading over his shoulder, had lifted a brow. "Would you have wanted her to?"

Chris considered. "I would have worried. I would have interfered. And then I would have pretended I wasn’t doing either."

Andrew, standing nearby, only sighed and gave Dax a long, meaningful look - the kind that carried a clear message: ’If you ever make him regret trusting you, I will become a diplomatic incident.’

Dax met it with a raised brow, daring the older brother to find anything to complain about.

—

Life, somehow, settled into a rhythm.

Chris found that the reality of governance suited him far better than court etiquette ever had. Briefings, negotiations, social programs, and the careful weaving of influence and protection - this, at least, made sense. It had weight. It had consequences. It was exhausting, but it was honest work, oddly similar with what he was working before.

Dax, meanwhile, remained what he had always been: precise, relentless, and quietly terrifying. Adonis Malek was still at large, and Dax’s people were still hunting him with the patience of men who did not forget and did not stop.

It was scheduled to begin the following week, and, according to the carefully color-coded blocks of obligations, inspections, receptions, and "informal" meetings, it would last no less than two weeks.

Chris read it once.

Then again, slower.

Two weeks. In a swamp. Under a Sahan flag. With ministers, security briefings, infrastructure tours, and the type of ceremonial dinners that somehow managed to last longer than most wars.

Chris felt his left eye twitch.

"Our honeymoon," he murmured, "is in a marsh. With mosquitoes, ministers, and a full schedule."

Dax glanced at the map opened onto Chris’s tablet, untroubled. "Belvare is strategically important."

"That is not a romantic quality," Chris replied flatly. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"It is an honest one," Dax said. "I’ve never been there. The region has always been... neglected. It will be useful for me to see it with my own eyes. And for you to understand what falls under Sahan responsibility beyond the capital and the polished cities."

Chris looked at him. Really looked.

"So our honeymoon is an educational field trip."

Dax considered. "With benefits."

Chris stared for a long second, then deadpanned, "I would like to file for divorce on grounds of nope."

Dax’s mouth curved, slow and unapologetic.

"Denied," he said calmly. "The paperwork alone would take longer than the trip."

Chris huffed. "I am being dragged into a swamp under false romantic pretenses."

"You are accompanying your husband to a strategically important region," Dax corrected. "And you will look very regal doing it."

"With mud on my shoes."

"I thought you were used to it from your work as a civil engineer." Dax countered.

Chris shot him a look. "That was controlled mud. Calculated mud. Mud with safety protocols and proper drainage."

"And this," Dax said mildly, "will be mud with political consequences."

"That is worse."

Dax’s mouth twitched. "You married into consequences."

Chris leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it had personally betrayed him. "I married a man who thinks a swamp tour counts as bonding."

"I think seeing how your empire actually breathes counts as intimacy," Dax replied. "The parts that are inconvenient. The parts that are overlooked. The places where people live without marble halls and air-conditioned council rooms."

Chris lowered his gaze to him again, the irritation softening, reshaping into something quieter and more thoughtful.

"You’re doing that thing," he said.

"What thing?"

"Where you turn my complaining into a moral lesson so I feel bad for wanting room service and a balcony."

Dax’s eyes warmed. "Is it working?"

"...A little."

Silence settled for a moment, filled only by the hum of the air system and the distant noise of the palace.

Then Chris sighed. "Fine. Field trip. Educational. Strategic. Swamp."

He paused, then added, "But I am bringing boots. And insect repellent. And a very strong argument for why our next anniversary should involve beaches and absolutely no ministers."

Dax reached out, resting his hand over Chris’s. "Noted."

"And rum," Chris continued. "A lot of it."

Dax lifted a brow. "Wine."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Rum or whisky, or I’m staying home with Tania and letting you charm ministers alone in a swamp."

There was a beat.

Then Dax’s mouth curved, slow and conceding, in the way that meant he had already calculated the cost of pushing this any further. "Very well. Rum. And whisky."

"Good," Chris said, satisfied. "I refuse to face humidity, mosquitoes, and bureaucracy sober."

Dax’s fingers tightened lightly over his. "You won’t be facing any of it alone."

Chris glanced at him, irritation finally giving way to reluctant amusement. "You say that now. Wait until you see me in boots, threatening infrastructure officials with a hangover."

"I look forward to it," Dax replied calmly.