Elaine leaned forward, a wicked little smirk playing on her lips.
"Are you sure you don't have a certain someone in that dimension of yours?"
Eugene froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.
Gulp.
"Actually…" he began cautiously.
"I knew it!" Elaine squealed, slamming her hands on the table. "Mother, Eugene has a girlfriend!"
"Is this true?" Arturia asked, eyebrows raised with a delighted gleam. "I'd love to meet her."
Across the table, Artizea sipped her wine and turned to Arthur. "Seems you lost your bet."
Arthur, mid-bite, once again choked on his food.
"I wouldn't celebrate your victory just yet," he muttered,
Rhysand, not wasting time, stomped on his foot, earning a strangled yelp from Arthur.
But then—he glanced sideways at Eugene.
That look said everything: Tell him now. Or never.
Eugene's throat tightened. His hand clenched slightly on his goblet. "Father—"
Gilgamesh looked up from his meal. Green eyes locked with crimson.
For a moment, the table quieted.
"I—"
Then—
"Grandfather!" Seraphina called out, standing dramatically atop her chair.
Gil raised a brow. "Yes, Sera ?"
She grinned wickedly, her twin dimples deepening.
"Is it true," she sang out, ignoring the gasps and frantic hand-waving of her cousins trying to silence her. "that your real name is…" She paused for effect, throwing her arms wide."GILGAMESHIA?!"
The entire hall fell into stunned silence.
Arthur choked on his drink. Yet again.
Rhysand pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose as he murmured, " of course, it's mine."
Arturia tried and failed to hide her laughter behind her tea. She knew this day would come.
The imposter in question? He didn't flinch. He just set down his knife and fork with painstaking calm, and turned his head slightly towards his wife, who was struggling to keep a straight face. Slowly, he looked back at his wonderful children. The little bandits stared at him with wide, expectant eyes—desperately curious, and not at all repentant. He sighed long and slow. Then, with a shrug that somehow managed to look both regal and absurdly tired, he said:
"I just like Gilgamesh better." He leaned back in his chair, picking up his wine. "Nowadays, I prefer 'Gil.'"
The kids erupted into delighted laughter, pounding the table.
Even Arturia cracked, still attempting to hide her smile behind her goblet.
Across the table, Artizea leaned into Rhysand, whispering,
"I can't believe they found Eugene's scholar scrolls."
Rhysand shook his head in mock despair.
"I can."
He glanced at the mischievous cluster of grandkids.
Gil raised his goblet high, catching every eye.
"If anyone breathes a word of that name outside this hall," he said dryly, "I will personally assign your favorite uncle Eugene. To Babysitting duty for the next year. No exceptions. No mercy."
The kids squealed in protest.
Eugene faltered.
He couldn't do it. Not yet. Not with everyone watching.
So instead, he smiled tightly and said, "I would love for you all to meet her… when the time is right."
Gilgamesh studied him a moment longer, then gave a single, understanding nod. "Take your time."
"Yes," Arturia added warmly. "We wouldn't want to scare the poor thing. But at least tell us where you met her!"
"Yes, tell us!" Elaine practically bounced in her seat.
Eugene cleared his throat. "The night of the… masquerade ball."
It wasn't a lie.
Arturia clapped her hands together. "Aha! I knew that ball was a good idea."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
The table erupted into excited chatter. Everyone had questions—what she looked like, what she was like, what she wore to the ball.
The chaos blended with laughter, and warmth filled the hall.
Eugene tried to smile along.
But his eyes flicked toward Rhysand, who gave him a quiet nod—talk later.
And still, Eugene couldn't help the small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Because lying to the rest of them? That was easy. But lying to his Father… that stung.
Dinner was finished, and the royal family lounged lazily in the grand hall, bellies full, the children half-asleep on cushions scattered across the floor.
Gilgamesh stood from his seat, brushing invisible crumbs from his cloak with regal flair. "Are you ready, daughter?"
Artizea, now seven months pregnant, sprang up with the energy of a child sneaking out for sweets.
Her eyes sparkled, cheeks rosy. "YES—"
She leaned down and gave Rhysand a quick peck on the cheek.
"The kids are yours!" she said in one breath, already waddling (speed-walking) toward the door.
Gilgamesh chuckled, extending his arm.
They vanished down the corridor, laughter echoing behind them.
Back in the hall,
Eugene blinked, looking up from his book. "…What was that about?"
Rhysand exhaled dramatically, flopping back into a chair. "It's Father-Daughter Day. Aka—'The Kids Are Yours, Rhysand.'" He tried to mimic her and surprisingly made a corona copy.
Arthur leaned forward, stifling a laugh. "Good thing it's—"
Rhysand, without missing a beat: "Bro Night."
Eugene raised a brow. "…Then who gets the kids?"
They all turned slowly.
Arturia sat still, sipping her evening tea with elegant grace.
She froze mid-sip.
Elaine offered brightly, "Why can't I take them?"
Arthur deadpanned, "Because five minutes with you, and they'll come running back to us with questionable questions."
Eugene's brow raised ." What..?
Rhysand added, "We need—peace." He groaned. "Just one night."
Arthur put his hands together like he was praying. "Please, Mother—"
Arturia gave them a look only a warrior queen and seasoned mother could muster. "I don't know why you have children if you can't keep them."
Suddenly, a tiny voice:
"Grandma… you don't wish us?"
It was Lizzie, looking up with her big, watery eyes.
Calisto followed, lip trembling. "Are we… orphans now?"
Seraphina, very seriously, added: "I told you we were gonna be orphans."
They sniffled in perfect harmony, staring up at their grandmother like sad baby birds.
Arturia closed her eyes. Took a long breath.
"Fine. Fine. I'll take the children."
But when she looked up—
Arthur, Rhysand, and Eugene were already gone.
In The Bro Cave, aka the Wine treasury.
Deep beneath the palace, it was alive with laughing, card games, and questionable snacking.
Eugene, finally catching his breath, narrowed his eyes. "That looked suspiciously planned."
Rhysand, pouring into crystal goblets: "The best thing about being a parent…"
Arthur finished smoothly: "…is teaching your kids how to get away with murder—"
Rhysand added, "—at their grandparents' expense."
They raised their glasses.
"WINE—" Rhysand called.
"CUPS!" Arthur echoed.
Then, in perfect sync: "PEACE!"
Eugene just sighed, shaking his head as he picked up a deck of cards. But he was smiling.
As expected, the children did find them, and Arthur put them to bed.
At least they got a few hours in.
Eugene had waited until the world was quiet — because secrets like this couldn't live in daylight.
Rhysand was seated alone on the outer balcony, nursing a glass of wine, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes.
He didn't even glance back as Eugene approached.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
Eugene leaned on the opposite end of the balustrade. "Something like that."
They sat in silence for a while. Just the wind. Just the stars.
Then, finally—
"Rhys."
There was a pause.
"Hm?"
Eugene's voice dropped. He hated how nervous he sounded. "I need to tell you something. And I need you not to—react."
That got his brother-in-law's attention.
He turned, setting his glass down. "Alright."
Eugene didn't look at him.
"There's someone I've been seeing. For a while now."
A pause.
"It's… complicated. He's not from here. And no one else knows."
Rhysand blinked. "He?"
Eugene nodded.
A breath.A heartbeat.
Rhysand leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable — then softer than Eugene had expected.
"Okay, what's it like?"
Eugene's brows drew together. "What do you mean?"
"Loving someone who's forbidden," Rhys said quietly.
"I know something about that."
"His name is —" said Fin, casually landing on a wine bottle like it was a tree branch.
That was when Arthur arrived — right on time to miss the emotional nuance and all the subtlety.
He took one look at Eugene's stiff posture and Rhysand's raised brow and promptly choked on his drink.
Before Eugene could even think of a response, a familiar voice cut through the silence:
"His name is Julian," said Fin, casually landing on a wine bottle like it was a tree branch.
Spit. Choke. Panic.
Arthur spat his drink across the table, coughing so hard that Rhysand had to slap his back.
"He?!" Arthur wheezed.
Rhysand raised a brow and looked at Eugene. "How does the bird know this before we do?"
"Because," Fin said primly, fluffing his feathers, "when you were off sucking face with the princess and left me to babysit. "
Silence
and he has huge teeth."
Eugene turned the color of dragonfire, yanking up his collar as Arthur squinted.
"Teeth?" Arthur muttered, staring suspiciously. "You said his teeth were sharp?"
"Like razors," Fin said dramatically. "I saw a fang. Or two. Or three. Possibly four."
Rhysand was already laughing, his shoulders shaking. "Please tell me you're not dating a mythical beast."
Eugene, completely cornered, rubbed the back of his neck.
His collar shifted — just enough to show a faint bite mark at the base of his throat.
Arthur's jaw dropped. "You got bitten?"
Eugene snapped, "Can I please explain before you two have a collective royal breakdown?"
They both leaned in.
"…Fine," Eugene muttered, avoiding their eyes. "It was the night we were in the ruins—"
"I was chasing a worm!" Fin chirped.
Eugene rolled his eyes.
"Anyway—I wandered too far past the eastern border, near the Faewild. I was trying to trace a surge in ley lines, but then… I felt something watching me. At first, I thought it was just the forest acting weird, but then I saw him."
He paused.
His voice softened.
Rhysand blinked."Romantic or terrifying."
"Both," Eugene admitted.
Julian leaned back against the conjured wall of Eugene's dimension, amused. "Fine. I'll help you," he said lazily. "As for what I get in return… I'll just put it on your tab."
"I don't have a tab," Eugene replied coolly, stepping closer. "You get me."
Julian blinked. For the first time, the demon's smile faltered. His eyes narrowed, searching Eugene's expression for a bluff—but there was none. Just steady, unwavering resolve.
"…A deal?" Julian said quietly, the shock almost hidden.
Eugene tilted his head, unbothered. "I offered it first. You just didn't notice."
Julian straightened, the air between them thick with a new tension—charged and unreadable. The demon had assumed control, as he always did… yet this boy, no more than eighteen, had flipped the game with frightening ease.
"Have you ever done this before?" Julian asked, voice low, almost hesitant.
"I read books," Eugene replied, blunt and unimpressed.
A soft, dangerous chuckle escaped the demon's lips. "A few books won't help you in this field, genius."
Eugene gave a lopsided smirk. "I'm a fast learner."
Julian stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His fingers found the string of Eugene's belt, tugging him just slightly closer. "Are you quite sure about this?"
Eugene's breath hitched, but he didn't flinch. "How many times are you going to ask me dumb shit?"
Julian's grin returned, sharp and wicked. "It's required by law. I have to ask three times."
"Then get it over with."
Julian's eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction. "Do you wish to—"
But he didn't finish.
Eugene grabbed the front of his shirt and crushed their mouths together. Julian's fang caught Eugene's lower lip, drawing a bead of blood—but Eugene didn't care. If anything, he pressed harder. Julian tasted the blood and licked it away slowly as they parted, his voice husky.
"Alright then," he murmured. "Contract sealed."
Arthur leaned in. "And you kissed said beast ?"
"No, idiot." Eugene flushed. "He—he claimed me."
Fin sighed wistfully. "He did. Very primal. Would make a great bard's tale."
Rhysand grinned. "Well, now I need to meet him."
Eugene's face paled. "No."
Arthur shrugged. "I mean, if he's gonna be biting you and haunting my family for the foreseeable future, might as well get to know the beast."
Eugene groaned.
Fin preened. "I'd like to formally request not being anywhere near the next time your lover drops from a tree with glowing eyes and claws."
"He doesn't have claws," Eugene muttered.
"…Not visibly," Fin mumbled under his breath.
Rhysand raised his glass.
"To the mystery man who managed to fluster the smartest Pendragon alive."
Arthur lifted his, too.
"Cheers."
Eugene just buried his face in his hands.
Earlier that day
The sun filtered in through the tall windows of the royal solarium, casting golden light on the soft carpet where little Seraphina had left her dolls.
Artizea stood at the window, her hand resting over her belly—now gently round again, carrying the weight of a life not yet born, and the quiet ache of a goodbye she knew was coming.
Madeline stood behind her in silence. She hadn't spoken yet. She didn't have to.
Artizea turned slowly.
"Well?" she asked, though the smile on her lips was an already knowing one. "Are you going to make me pull it out of you?"
Madeline looked away, but her voice was steady. "He asked."
"And?"
"I accepted his proposal."
Artizea didn't blink. She only smiled, warm and unshaken. "About time."
Madeline huffed a quiet laugh. "You knew?"
"I hoped," she corrected, stepping closer. "And I prayed he was worthy."
"He is," Madeline said simply. "He's kind. Patient. Successful. Everything my father always wanted—and everything I didn't think I deserved."
"You deserve everything," Artizea said, taking her hands. "I told my father as such—'no poor-ranking lord will do for her,' I said. 'Only someone with a proper estate, a good name, and better intentions.'"
Madeline smiled, something wistful curling at the corners of her mouth. "He checked every box ?"
Artizea nodded. "And more. I see it in your eyes. You're happy."
They stood in silence for a moment longer, letting the reality settle between them. Years of service, of sacrifice, of standing in the shadows. And now—freedom. A life of her own.
Madeline let out a breath, something between a sigh and a scoff. "You know if you tell me to stay, and I'll stay."
Artizea crossed the room and took her hand—no longer as a queen to her handmaid, but woman to woman, sister to sister. "You deserve to be loved in return, Mads. Not just loyalty, not duty, not 'crown service.' Real, stupid, slow mornings and late dinners kind of love."
Madeline smiled softly, but it trembled. "I don't know how to live like that."
"You'll learn."
A beat passed.
"He's a good man?" Madeline added, quieter.
Artizea touched her cheek. "I wouldn't let you go if I didn't."
The door creaked open behind them. Rhysand stepped in, dressed down for once—his coat unfastened, his presence somehow gentler.
He took one look at the two of them and raised a brow. "This isn't the part where I get scolded again, is it?"
Madeline smirked faintly. "No. I'm retiring."
"From scolding me?"
"From service."
He blinked. "Wait. You're leaving?"
She nodded. "Today."
"Hmm," Rhysand said, folding his arms. "Then I suppose this is the part where I say Hell no. And… beg you to reconsider?"
Madeline shook her head. "No use. I'm already packed."
Rhysand chuckled, then gave her a look more sincere than most ever got to see. " I suppose there's nothing I can bargain with now."
She lifted her chin. "Then do me a favor."
"Anything."
"Prove me wrong."
She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to.
He gave a small, solemn nod. "I will, mark my words."
There was no dramatic goodbye. No handkerchief, no tears falling in poetic silence.
Just a long, long hug between two women who had shared a thousand hidden moments—of dresses laced, of tears wiped, of whispered comfort in palace halls that never slept.
Madeline pulled back, her voice tight. "I'll write."
Artizea laughed through her tears. "I'll answer."
She nodded, then she was gone.
And as the carriage disappeared down the main road of the capital, Artizea leaned into Rhysand's shoulder, her fingers twined in his.
"See?" she murmured to her husband, leaning back against his chest. "Told you she liked you." Rhysand grinned. "Only took 3 years of babysitting cover. "No, you didn't," she said, sniffling through her smile." Rhysand chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. And in the distance, a carriage rolled down the road, carrying a woman finally free to live for herself—for once, and at last.
Present
The soft light of evening filtered in through the tall, arched windows of the west wing studio.
The walls were covered in old, half-finished canvases—some elegant, some abstract, and one or two comically chaotic, each a testament to years of stolen moments.
The largest canvas yet stood tall before them, nearly the height of the wall.
It was still a mess of color—bold reds and royal blues swirled together with golden strokes dancing in between.
A wild storm of passion and love and power, just like them.
Artizea, her belly round with seven months of life inside her, stood barefoot on a cloth-strewn floor in a loose tunic, sleeves rolled up, and paint splattered on her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, red from laughter.
"Maddy left this evening ."
Her father stood beside her, robes rolled up, golden rings clinking as he mixed a deep crimson on the palette.
" Did she now? I hope he treats her well."
" He will or ill make her a widow and leave his estate to her," she chuckled.
"You've inherited your mother's sense of justice."
Artizea grinned. "And artist talent."
He raised a brow, then smirked. "You flatter her doodles."
She flicked a stroke of paint at him.
Gil dodged with practiced grace, laughing.
They worked in near silence after that, soft music playing on a nearby harp crystal.
The strokes became smoother, their rhythm in sync. The canvas began to take shape—a roaring dragon flying over a field of stars, with a crowned woman below, arm outstretched toward it.
It was wild, strange, and beautiful. Like their family.
As they stepped back, admiring their work, Artizea leaned her head against her father's shoulder.
"Thanks," she murmured, voice softer than the light in the room, "for staying true to your promise, Dad. And for Maddy"
He looked at her—not the warrior, not the queen-to-be, but his little girl.
He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead, his golden hand resting atop her crimson curls.
"Anything," he whispered, "for you, my pride."
The hum of magic flickered around him as Eugene stepped through the portal, the chaotic noise of his family vanishing behind him like dust in the wind.
He emerged into silence.
Cool. Controlled.Cunning
The kind of quiet that hummed with old power and forbidden spells.
A realm built by his own hands — warded so tightly not even his siblings could peek inside.
Well, except one.
And they were already here.
The moment Eugene's boots hit the stone floor, a voice met him.
Smooth. Low. A little amused."You're late."
Eugene froze.
A tall figure stepped from the shadows.
And gods, he looked like sin in silk.
Moonlight glinted off his strands of silver
His eyes — stars and fire and galaxies all at once — narrowed playfully.
He moved with inhuman grace, sharp and confident.
The only other soul in existence who could teleport directly into this place besides Eugene himself.
Before Eugene could offer an excuse, a single finger lifted under his chin.
And then — a kiss.
Claiming. Deep. Infuriatingly slow.
By the time they pulled apart, Eugene's breath had hitched, and his ears were still red from earlier.
"I was—" he began.
Julian's lips curled.
"You were…?" He gestured with a hand. "Continue, genius. I'm all eyes."
Eugene blinked. "You mean ears?"
"Nope." His smirk grew, and his eyes — those impossible, galactic eyes — flashed with amusement.
"Eyes. Definitely Eyes."
He stepped closer, the long hem of his coat whispering against the floor.
His fangs — faint, just barely visible behind a wicked smile — glinted as he looked Eugene over like a puzzle he already knew the answer to.
And Eugene?
He hated how fast his heart beat around him. Hated how this man could pull every thought from his head with a single look.
"You're annoyed," Eugene muttered, trying to sound casual.
"I'm always annoyed." He leaned in again."You're mine, and I don't like sharing."
"It was a family day—"
"I know. You smell like wine and embarrassment."
Eugene sighed.
Silence.
Then he spoke, "…You waited?"
Julian tilted his head.
"Always."His voice dropped."You're the only thing I wait for."
Hours passed.
Eugene lay still, thinking.