Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)

Max stared at him, deadpan. "For fuck's sake."

He pushed back his chair and rose, straightening his jacket with a sharp tug. The playful exchange with Damian was quickly overshadowed by a lingering thought. Elliot's audacity, coupled with Damian's flippant attitude, ignited something dark within Max. 'Elliot would be better off dead than Damian's new toy,' he thought bitterly, the words reverberating in his mind like a curse. His jaw tightened as he strode toward the door.

"I need to talk with Alphonso. Don't touch anything," he tossed over his shoulder to Damian, his voice taut but controlled.

The man nodded while sitting back in his armchair. "While you are at it, ask him to bring me some coffee; I think this day will be long for both of us." Max nodded and walked out of the room. 

Outside, the manor's corridors were dimly lit, with fading sunlight barely reaching the marble floors. Max's footsteps echoed as he sought out Alphonso, his butler. Finding Alphonso wasn't hard. Max knew where the man would be—likely fussing over something minor just to keep busy. He wasn't wrong. He found the tall butler was meticulously polishing an old brass doorknob. Tall and slender, with an upright posture and an air of quiet confidence, Alphonso's white hair and large hands gave him an almost statuesque presence.

The butler glanced up, his sharp, knowing eyes immediately catching the tension in Max's body language.

"Al, we need to talk," Max said, leaning against the doorway with a familiarity that belied their usual formalities.

Alphonso straightened, his white brows lifting as he saw Max's expression. "That bad?" he asked, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Did he finally throw something?" He was aware of the Emperor's short temper and Elliot's oblivious nature. Elliot's mother, Patricia Canmore, made certain that her precious son was safe from anything that was unworthy of him. 

"No," Max replied, exhaling sharply. "But give it time. Listen, while Damian is here, I don't want anyone else being shown in, no matter who they are."

Alphonso tilted his head, crossing his large hands over his chest. "You think I let Elliot in by accident?" he asked, arching a single, snowy eyebrow.

"Did you? If you are tired, please let me know and I will find a younger aide for you." Max shot back, though his tone lacked real heat. He knew Alphonso too well.

"Of course not," Alphonso replied with mock offense. "I was merely testing your patience. Congratulations on passing."

Max barked a short laugh despite himself, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "You're impossible. But seriously, no more visitors. Not while Damian's here. I don't care what happens to Elliot, but Uncle George does."

Alphonso gave a knowing smile, his usual formality softened by familiarity. "Understood, Master. No visitors. Should I also get started on your usual antidote for family chaos?"

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Just do what I asked, Al. And stop calling me 'Master'; when we are alone, you creep me out."

"Oh, and send some coffee to my office; Damian plans to stay all day here."

"Immediately." Even if their relationship was close, he took pride in his work and that he had the chance to meet the Emperor. "Will His Majesty stay for dinner?"

"Probably." Max had no idea what Damian's plans for the day were.

"Noted," Alphonso said dryly, returning to his task with an air of exaggerated dignity. But as Max turned to leave, he heard the butler call after him, his tone more genuine this time. "For what it's worth, you're handling it well. Keep your head up."

Max gave a slight wave of acknowledgment but didn't look back. Alphonso always knew what to say to steady him, even in the worst moments. It was part of why Max trusted him so implicitly—and why he knew Alphonso would keep his word.

As Max retreated toward his study, Damian, back in the sitting room, had taken the folder Elliot had thrown and begun reading. His earlier amusement faded as he delved deeper into the report. The Blue Ether Project's details sprawled across the pages, but Damian's golden eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing in concentration. 

Damian's calm, authoritative presence filled the space, as if the world itself bent to his will. His eyes skimmed the report with practiced ease, his golden gaze flicking over the data with the focus of someone who had been trained to assess quickly. There was no sign of irritation or frustration. He was the Emperor, after all. His gaze flicked over the data with practiced precision.

Max tried to push the thoughts of Elliot aside. He needed to steer the conversation away from him and onto something more productive, something that would refocus Damian's energy.

"Having fun on your free day?" 

Damian glanced up, annoyance flashing in his eyes before he returned to the report. "I hoped my little brother would entertain me, but he left me alone." He paused, flipping to the next page. "You should set aside time for yourself. The coming-of-age celebration will require your attention."

"Damian, I understand how annoying Elliot can be, but Uncle George will take care of him. There is no reason to waste your time with him." Max approached the man and took the other armchair after carefully removing his blazer before settling down.

Damian's golden eyes flicked up at him, the briefest flash of annoyance crossing his face. "Max, do not overstep your authority ever again." The words were calm, almost detached, but the weight behind them was undeniable. He was giving a reminder, one that was unmistakable. Max had always known where the line was drawn—Damian never hesitated to remind him when it was crossed.

Max stiffened, thinking if it would be wise to challenge him. 'Damn it. Maybe if I annoy him, he will leave me alone for a while.'

"Well, you are the one who chose to be there out of all places. This doesn't work with me." Max gestured at the man leaning forward, gazing at the man holding a heavy report in his hands. 

Damian remained silent for a long moment, reading through the report in front of him. The hum of the room seemed to stretch thin, his presence like a shadow casting over everything. Finally, he placed the papers down, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Three of the five portals will be used for the war with the Donin Republica, correct?" Damian asked, his voice now sharper, more serious. He was changing the subject. "That peninsula was part of the Empire before Aslan Primrose got his hands on it."

Max nodded, leaning back in the armchair, and decided to put the party topic aside for the time being. "Yes. The three portals in the city are positioned for tactical advantage. One on the eastern border, close to the Sea of Georia. The second, near the heart of the city. And the third, placed by the pass itself. The idea is to control the flow of magic and trade through the portals while we keep the Donin Republica in check."

Max paused and waited for Damian to open one of the maps from the back of the report before continuing. "Glassgow was part of the Primrose territory. They were responsible for its development. It is not surprising that the city is barely hanging on. They planned the Donnin Peninsula division long before we planned the coup d'état."

Damian raised a hand, palm out, silencing Max mid-sentence. It was a gesture so simple yet commanding that it seemed to still the air around them. There was no mistaking the gravity of the moment—an unspoken reminder of the emperor's absolute authority. Damian's gaze dropped to the report in his hands, scanning its final data with a precision born of years in power.

Max watched, a flicker of unease creeping in. Damian's demeanor shifted. His earlier warmth was replaced with an edge of cold detachment. "Who made this report?" Damian's voice was low, steady, and dangerous.

Max stiffened. "Gabriel oversaw it. Why?"

Damian's golden eyes flicked briefly to the report again, but something in the air had changed. The Emperor's focus wasn't on the data anymore—it was on something else. The scent of Gabriel's pheromones, too strong and too close, seemed to hover in the room. It was subtle, but to Damian, it was as loud as any shout.

A low growl rumbled in the back of Damian's throat, and Max leaned forward, recognizing the shift. The tension that had been gnawing at him only grew heavier.

Damian's eyes flashed. "Gabriel," he muttered under his breath, and then turned his gaze back to Max. There was no need for further words. The Emperor's annoyance and distaste were clear.

Max watched Damian, sensing the undercurrent of emotions rising. Damian's control was slipping, the scent of Gabriel still thick enough to make his skin prickle. Max's mind raced. There was no real issue with the report, but something about Gabriel had disturbed Damian.