Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 381: Diplomatic (1)

The diplomatic wing of Saha’s palace had been renovated twice in the last decade, and it still couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.

It carried the bones of old royalty - wide corridors, carved archways, guards placed like statues - but it had been dragged, kicking and offended, into a modern era where paperwork moved faster than bullets and press leaks could start wars without anyone leaving their office.

Sirius Alaric of Palatine walked through it like a man born to marble and pressure.

He wore diplomacy the way most men wore a coat - buttoned, smooth, and meant to hide how cold it was underneath. His escort moved with him in careful choreography, Palatine security and Sahan security matching pace, earpieces in, hands near holsters out of habit, and eyes always scanning.

Beside him, Ethan looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Not because Ethan wasn’t capable. He was. Too capable, when he had to be.

But politics made him itch. Politics made him think of rooms full of people who smiled while calculating how to bleed you without leaving a stain.

And right now, Ethan had a far more urgent priority.

He adjusted the toddler on his hip - small weight, warm body, soft hair against Ethan’s jaw - and felt his whole spine relax in a way it never did in meetings.

Zion blinked up at the palace ceiling with solemn fascination, as if judging the chandeliers personally.

He was two, compact and stubborn, with brown hair that curled slightly at the edges and eyes that were too green to be polite. The eyes didn’t come from Ethan. They didn’t even come from Sirius.

They came from Caelan.

Which was, frankly, rude.

Sirius’s gaze slid to his son and softened for half a second before returning forward, already in the mode where every corner could hide a problem.

"You stay with the delegation," Ethan said quietly.

Sirius didn’t turn his head. "We’re together."

Ethan shot him a look. "No. You’re together with Dax and the cabinet and whatever political ritual they’ve prepared to measure your spine."

Sirius’s mouth twitched faintly. "It’s called a briefing."

"It’s called a cage match with etiquette," Ethan corrected.

Zion chose that moment to pat Ethan’s cheek with a sticky hand, utterly unconcerned with statecraft.

Ethan kissed the toddler’s fingers automatically, then leaned closer to Sirius, voice low enough for only him.

"I’m going to see Chris," Ethan murmured. "You can survive ten minutes without me."

Sirius finally turned his head.

His eyes were calm, but his attention sharpened instantly, like the mention of Chris came with an invisible threat assessment.

"Is he alright?"

Ethan shrugged. "Probably. He’s just... been weirdly unavailable."

Sirius’s gaze flicked to Zion. "Take guards."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "I’m taking a toddler. That’s already a hostage situation for anyone who annoys me."

Sirius’s mouth tightened, fighting a smile.

Then his face smoothed again, the diplomatic mask clicking into place. "Don’t linger," Sirius said quietly.

Ethan’s grin turned sharp. "Yes, Your Highness."

Sirius’s gaze warmed faintly. "Ethan."

Ethan’s grin softened. "I’ll be quick."

He slipped out of the diplomatic flow with effortlessness. Sahan security tracked him for half a second, then tracked the toddler, then decided, correctly, that this was not the hill to die on.

Because Ethan wasn’t leaving the palace.

He was just going where the politics couldn’t follow.

The consort’s quarters.

The corridor grew quieter as he approached. Not empty - not with Dax’s paranoia and Chris’s existence - but quieter in that controlled way that meant security had been reorganized around a single point.

Ethan recognized the shift instantly. The placement. The spacing. The subtle absence of staff in the immediate path, like the palace itself, had been instructed to breathe more carefully here.

He huffed a laugh under his breath.

"If I didn’t know better," he muttered, adjusting Zion on his hip, "I’d think someone’s nesting."

Ethan knocked softly, more often out of courtesy than obedience, because Ethan didn’t do obedience unless it was to keep someone alive. Zion’s sticky hand pressed against Ethan’s collarbone like he approved of the plan.

A pause.

Then the door opened.

Rowan’s expression did that familiar thing where it became two emotions at once: relief and annoyance, like Ethan had brought comfort and chaos in the same package.

"You’re late," Rowan murmured, stepping aside.

"I’m a diplomat now," Ethan said back. "It’s mandatory."

Rowan’s mouth twitched like that was the worst thing he’d ever heard. "He’s awake."

"Tragic," Ethan said, and slipped past him. "Why wouldn’t he be?"

Rowan’s gaze followed him with the exhausted patience of a man watching someone walk into a trap that had already been labeled in bright red ink.

"You will find out," Rowan muttered.

Ethan scoffed on instinct, because scoffing was how he kept himself sane. "Is that a threat?"

"It’s a warning," Rowan replied, flat.

Ethan made a rude noise under his breath and rounded the corner into the sitting room.

He expected... something.

Silk. Jewels. A consort draped in expensive fabric like a weapon, lounging with the controlled elegance that made courtiers forget how to breathe. Maybe Dax nearby, looming with the quiet menace of a man who treated comfort like a battlefield.

Instead, Ethan found Chris in cotton pajamas.

No robe. No embroidery. No jewelry. Not even the petty little rings Chris sometimes wore just to remind people he had resources and could make them cry.

Just soft, pale cotton, slightly wrinkled, and a ruffled head of black hair that looked like it had been attacked by his own fingers and abandoned to fate.

Chris was stretched out on the couch like he’d claimed it as sovereign territory. A bowl of fruit sat on his lap - grapes, melon, and berries - arranged with almost insulting care, a type of concern that screamed Killian had been involved.

The television was on.

True crime.

A narrator’s calm voice described someone’s demise like it was a lifestyle tip.

At Chris’s feet, Tania was curled on the carpet, tail tucked close, eyes half-lidded but alert enough to judge every breath in the room.

Ethan stopped in the doorway and just stared.

Then he looked at Rowan over his shoulder, offended. "This is what you meant."

Rowan didn’t blink. "Yes."

Ethan looked back at Chris again - at the bare wrists, the lack of royal shine, and the way he looked like the old Chris, the one from before the titles and the weddings and the constant pressure. Like someone had handed him permission to stop performing, and he’d taken it with both hands.

Chris didn’t look up from the screen. He popped a grape into his mouth like a man committing treason against decorum.

Ethan walked in slowly, as if sudden movement might startle this version of reality into disappearing.

"What," Ethan said finally, voice low with disbelief, "is happening?"

Chris raised his brows without looking away from the documentary. "I’m resting."

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. "You don’t rest."

Chris pointed at the screen with a grape. "I do now." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Ethan’s gaze dropped to the fruit bowl again. "And you’re... eating."

Chris’s mouth twitched. "Against my will."

Ethan blinked. "You’re being fed fruit against your will."

Chris sighed like a martyr. "Killian is my guardian of health. He’s turned my body into a government project."

Rowan made a soft sound behind Ethan, like he was trying not to laugh and failing politely.

Ethan turned his head sharply. "Oh, you think this is funny."

Rowan’s expression went bland. "No."

Ethan turned back to Chris. "Where are your jewels?"

Chris finally glanced at him, eyes bright with lazy satisfaction. "I confiscated my own jewels. They were too heavy. This is my era of comfort and crime documentaries."

Ethan stared at him. "Your era."

"Yes," Chris said, deadly serious. "I am in my era."

Ethan looked down at Zion on his hip like he needed emotional support.

Zion stared back solemnly, then pointed at the TV. "Man."

Chris’s eyes softened a fraction. "That’s the narrator, sweetheart."

Ethan froze.