Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Nero reached his parents’ private rooms twenty-seven minutes later, clean, dressed in loose dark trousers and a soft white shirt that made him look less like a prince prepared to terrify ministers and more like someone Chris would accept into his sitting room without making comments about blood pressure.

The doors had barely opened before Jax appeared.

He was seven, barefoot, bright-eyed, and holding a tablet with the solemnity of a diplomat carrying a treaty.

”Nero,” he said immediately. ”I need you.”

Nero stopped on the threshold. ”No.”

Jax’s mouth fell open. ”You do not even know what it is.”

”That has never protected me before.”

”It is important.”

”It is bedtime.”

”It is military.”

”You are seven.”

Jax thrust the tablet toward him. ”I need permission to move two training drones into the west corridor because the current patrol route is boring.”

Nero looked over the boy’s head toward the sitting room, where Chris sat curled into one corner of the sofa with tea, and Dax lounged beside him like a beautiful disaster pretending to behave.

Chris lifted his cup. ”No.”

Dax smiled. ”Absolutely not.”

Nero looked back at Jax. ”There. The last word has been spoken.”

”You are the Crown Prince.”

”And they are our parents.”

Jax looked betrayed by constitutional reality. ”You never help.”

”I help when the request is less likely to destroy antique vases.”

”It would only be two.”

”Go to bed.”

Jax narrowed his eyes. ”When you were my age, you probably destroyed more.”

”When I was your age, Hale had already aged ten years. Do not follow my example.”

”That is not fair.”

”No,” Nero said, bending to kiss the top of his head. ”It is family.”

Jax made a disgusted sound but leaned into him for one second before running toward Chris, who caught him by the waist with practiced ease.

”Bed,” Chris said, voice gentle and final.

Jax looked toward Dax.

Dax smiled. ”I would have said yes, but your mother is the law.”

Chris gave him a flat look.

Dax’s smile widened. ”A beautiful law.”

Jax groaned. Nero laughed despite himself.

For a few minutes, nothing in the room was prophecy or infection or Sebastian. It was tea, silk cushions, Jax complaining about injustice, Chris smoothing his hair, and Dax watching them with that quiet hunger he had never bothered to hide when it came to his family.

Then an attendant came to take Jax back to the west wing.

Nero waited until the doors closed.

Chris looked at him over the rim of his cup. ”You look better.”

”I showered.”

”That was not what I meant.”

”I know.”

Chris did not press. That was one of the reasons Nero adored him so violently. Chris could cut through a person with one look and still choose mercy.

Dax, unfortunately, chose timing.

”What did Arion give you?”

Nero’s gaze shifted to him.

Chris’s brows rose slightly. ”Should I leave?”

”No,” Nero said too quickly, then corrected himself. ”Not because of you. Because I gave my word.”

Chris studied him for a moment.

Then he stood, kissed Nero’s temple as he passed, and said, ”I will check if Jax actually went to bed.”

He did not ask.

He simply gave him space.

Nero watched him leave with something painful sitting behind his ribs.

When the door closed, Dax’s expression changed.

The lazy warmth remained, but the king had arrived beneath it.

”Speak.”

Nero sat across from him. ”Arion told me about temple visions involving Sebastian.”

Dax’s eyes did not move.

Nero told him only the important parts, as he knew Dax would have reached Otto to tell him if Nero didn’t. The shift. The mating. The infection breaking containment. Death. Roslew. The report Arion should not have made, and had made anyway.

Dax listened without interruption.

When Nero finished, the room felt too quiet.

Finally, Dax said, ”And you are angry because it says you can change him.”

Nero smiled faintly. ”Among other things.”

”You will not use it.”

”No.”

Dax leaned back, one arm along the sofa, his gaze fixed on him. ”Good.”

Nero almost laughed. ”That is all?”

”No. That is the only part that needed judging.”

For a moment, Nero did not know what to do with that.

Dax looked toward the door Chris had used. ”Something similar happened with Chris.”

Nero went still.

”Not identical,” Dax said. ”Fate is rarely so polite. But there were versions of him before me, around me, taken from me. Adonis manipulated what he could in other branches. In some, Chris belonged to me. In some, one of us died before we reached each other. In others, the world bent until we still collided, just later, uglier, and with more blood on the floor.”

Nero’s throat tightened. ”And now?”

”Now nothing can be changed from there. Those branches are dead to us. Suggestions. Warnings. Ghosts with excellent dramatic timing.”

Nero stared at him.

Dax’s mouth curved, but his eyes were serious. ”Visions are not orders, Nero. They are not contracts. They are not permission. They show a road. Sometimes a likely one. Sometimes a road someone else wants you to believe is inevitable.”

”The temple thinks it is.”

”The temple thinks many things. Most temples confuse seeing a door with owning the house.”

Nero laughed under his breath despite himself.

Dax leaned forward. ”There are reasons why I burned all the temples in Saha to the ground when Chris became mine. Some wanted Lucas, and some targeted Chris. I will never have other temples than what we already control.”

Nero’s smile faded.

He had known that, of course. Everyone knew the public version. The reforms, the purges, the accusations of illegal influence over royal omega lines, and the beautiful speeches about protecting Sahan sovereignty from spiritual contamination.

The public version had always sounded almost civilized.

Dax’s eyes told the truth.

It had been personal.

It had been Chris.

”It was that bad?” Nero asked.

”Worse,” Dax said.

There was no performance in his voice now. No lazy arrogance, no kingly amusement, no beautiful cruelty dressed as charm.

Only memory.

”Temples are tolerable when they pray. The moment they begin arranging fate, they become political institutions with incense.”

Nero looked down at his hands.

”Adonis manipulated what he could,” Dax continued. ”Not everything. Men like him always want to believe they are authors. Most of the time, they are only opportunists standing near a door that was already cracked open.”

”But Chris—”

”Chris was always Chris.” Dax’s voice sharpened at once, possessive even in correction. ”No vision made him mine. No temple granted him to me. No dead branch signed a contract on his behalf. They saw where he could go. Sometimes one of us died before we reached the other. Sometimes the world bent until we still collided, uglier and with more blood on the floor.”

Nero swallowed once.

Dax watched him with terrifying patience. ”Do you understand the difference?”

Nero did.

He hated that he did.

”A vision can show the outline of want,” Dax said. ”It cannot absolve the hand that takes.”

Nero’s eyes lifted.

Dax held his gaze. ”Sebastian becoming a dominant omega in some future does not mean you are owed the act of changing him now. Sebastian mating you somewhere does not mean he has chosen you here. Sebastian dying beside you can be both devotion and a warning.”

”I know.”

”Good.”

Nero’s mouth twisted. ”It still made me happy for one second.”

Dax did not flinch from that.

”I understand that more than anyone.”

”That is ugly.”

”No,” Dax said. ”That is honest. Ugly would be pretending you did not feel it, then building law around the lie.”

For a moment, Nero could not answer.

Dax leaned back again, one arm stretched along the sofa. ”Be angry here. With me. In sealed rooms. In training halls. Do not be angry at Sebastian because his freedom ruins every easy answer.”

Nero rubbed his face with both hands. ”I have too many Sahan genes in my blood. Chris did not have a chance.”

Dax laughed under his breath. ”Well, that is good. You have my madness, but you also have more patience than I ever had. That is from Chris.”

Nero dropped his hands and looked at him. ”Patience?”

”Yes.”

”I have been interfering with Sebastian’s compatibility options.”

Dax hummed, amused.

Nero went very still.

Dax smiled faintly. ”Do not look so offended. You did not inherit subtlety from a stranger.”

”That is not something you should say with pride.”

”I did not say I was proud. I said I noticed.”

Nero stared at him for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. ”Arion noticed last summer.”

”Arion was raised by Otto and survived enough of my visits to learn pattern recognition.”

”He told me to be more careful.”

”Good.”

Nero’s mouth curved without humor. ”Neither of you would tell me to stop?”

Dax’s eyes remained fixed on him, a pale brow raised as he knew his son. ”Did you expect me to?”

”No.”